16 February, 1892 — Greengrass Home, Bartonburg
Mr. Farley, sitting in the armchair nearest the unlit fireplace, said something in a tone of voice which seemed to require a response, so Ford nodded. He had not been properly listening for at least ten minutes, but if Mr. Farley had noticed he did not particularly seem to care, so long as Ford offered up nods and vague murmurs of assent at the appropriate intervals. I didn't actually sleep with your daughter, Ford thought, for at least the fifteenth time since Mr. Farley had entered the parlor that afternoon. He may have even said it, once or more than once — it was hard to stay grounded in reality during all of this. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, and a far less pleasant one that the kind brought on by spiritus sancti. He wasn't sure whether it would have done him any favors to have said it out loud. It was impossible to say without sounding vulgar, and it changed exactly nothing, but there was still a part of him that wanted Mr. Farley to know he hadn't actually been carrying on with Miss Jemima in a coatroom.
I suppose that's all settled, then, her father said, and again Ford found himself capable of very little except a mute nod. He hadn't made note of the details as they'd talked and had a fleeting thought that he hoped someone (her mother?) would send an owl after this with all the particulars written down — but of course it didn't really matter, he realized, because it wasn't as though they were going to let him forget anything important. Her father had left very little doubt in his mind on that front, when they'd started this conversation; they were in control of everything, now.
Mr. Farley announced that he would show himself out, and did. Ford was left sitting in the same parlor chair he'd sank into when the man arrived, feeling more off-balance than anyone had a right to feel while sitting down in a stationary room. At some point Noble appeared in the doorway. Ford suspected his sense of time was off; he could not actually tell whether Noble had appeared in the doorway at an appropriate interval after Mr. Farley had left it. For all Ford knew, he might have been lurking in the hall with his ear to the door. In any case, the appearance of his brother and the resulting change of atmosphere in the room was enough to jog Ford out of the fog Mr. Farley had left him in, and he sprang in agitation to his feet.
"I have to go," he said, patting his pockets to find his wand and light the floo. "I have to see someone."
I suppose that's all settled, then, her father said, and again Ford found himself capable of very little except a mute nod. He hadn't made note of the details as they'd talked and had a fleeting thought that he hoped someone (her mother?) would send an owl after this with all the particulars written down — but of course it didn't really matter, he realized, because it wasn't as though they were going to let him forget anything important. Her father had left very little doubt in his mind on that front, when they'd started this conversation; they were in control of everything, now.
Mr. Farley announced that he would show himself out, and did. Ford was left sitting in the same parlor chair he'd sank into when the man arrived, feeling more off-balance than anyone had a right to feel while sitting down in a stationary room. At some point Noble appeared in the doorway. Ford suspected his sense of time was off; he could not actually tell whether Noble had appeared in the doorway at an appropriate interval after Mr. Farley had left it. For all Ford knew, he might have been lurking in the hall with his ear to the door. In any case, the appearance of his brother and the resulting change of atmosphere in the room was enough to jog Ford out of the fog Mr. Farley had left him in, and he sprang in agitation to his feet.
"I have to go," he said, patting his pockets to find his wand and light the floo. "I have to see someone."
Set by Lady!
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