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2039 Words
“Bring her out of here, my good Gerwin.”
Gerwin Kroes threw himself into this dispirited hole, making sure he couldn’t be
contaminated by the befouled of human abuse, and he didn’t mind as van Laan removed his long
coat and covered it with her.
In the coach he was quieting.
“Take her to the house, Gerwin.”
“Where are you going, Great Magnus of Laan?”
“Another matter to attend, my dear Gerwin. You’ll tell Roneske the importance of
Mademoiselle’s well-being and I’ll return home shortly.”
He stood at the corner of Newgate. He was gradually thinking how he could plan Micheline
Purcell’s well-being for his own advantage, and he had to do it so quietly. On arrival at Ona’s, he
found Giacomo and Rhys.
Giacomo was the first he perceived he did not see van Laan wearing his coat.
“She is Sohini Cornellis, a dame by her own rate, and a private lady-in-waiting for
Marchioness Gazelle Gibbons. She is the daughter of Duke Louis Gibbons who is a friend of Graf
Bernard Krauese.”
Van Laan paced in this isolated room.
“And Bridget, Chanelle, or Clayton?”
“Unclear.”
“I won’t need you any longer tonight, Giacomo, but I need to know each of them before I
departure to France.”
“You will have who they are.”
“Would you please take me to Madame Noxx, my dear Rhys?”
“Of course.”
Madame Noxx, an attractive Parisian Londoner resident of Gateway Bridge, received van
Laan along the entranceway of the house.
“Magnus Dux van Laan,” she said, when her servant and assistant, Nellie Beaumont,
inquired, giving her the information someone was asking for her. “I won’t expect you so late at
this evening. Please, I’ll call for your servants.”
“I won’t stay, my lovely friend. I need to change if you allow me, please.”
“A bath then.”
“I’m afraid I’ll be awful late.”
The diplomatic house under van Laan’s cautious arrangement with Madame Charlotte
Noxx was lighting up with huge candles. The third section of the mansion she held, then removed
a key from her neck and opened the door. “It will be so important you won’t stay. I’ve already
taken my bath and smelled of Persian tulip. You’ve smelled it, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have. But this matter is important.”
“I hope it isn't about another woman. I should kill one or two to be at peace.”
“You’re one of few.”
She leaned forward and kissed him and at the same time she caressed his p***s over his
pant.
“Let me have this during this weekend.”
“I cannot promise it will be but let’s hope it may.”
She withdrew from him.
An hour later, the carriage of van Laan made a stop in front of the gate of the House of
Ottis, a kilometer outside London. A sleepy footman, with the judgmental knowledge of van Laan’s call, quickly led him to the chamber of Marchioness Gazelle Gibbons. He found her radiant
and held a book: Plotinus, The Six Enneads, in Latin. She had changed. She wore a light flannelette,
seated up with elaborate stripes. In full size pattern, it brought her perfect body of a slim woman,
with loosen hair all over her shoulder. She was remarkable, and desirable, making van Laan see
not all before he was for sale, and he could not ignore what was in front of him.
“I’ve started reading the Third Ennead of Fate, and it appeals to anyone I know. Have you
read it, Magnus Dux van Laan?”
“We’ve the assumption cause, the power, which can be externally invariable, and it must
be held.”
“I cannot deny you have already read Plotinus.”
“I have.”
She came over to him. Her eyes, having those mysterious flames of composition, set
appealing within their sockets, moved quietly, making him follow them. “Is that fate that underlies
the realm of process universally and is part of what we breathe?”
“It can be authentic, my adorable lady.”
“For a woman as well, perhaps.”
“There is no distinction of s*x and of inspiration as a Roman or Greek if we lead at the
head of a procession in which we should smash all roads, crucifixes, and religious images of our
own spectrums.”
She looked at him, challenging him, and then, she smiled, and it was a fetching smile,
sterling up across her face, a scrumptious expression of her already marked enchantment.
“You’re a dangerous man, van Laan.”
“I have been called in, Marchioness Gibbons, and I received the invitation to a matter of
faith.”
“Yes, you are, of course. Please, can you have a seat.”
Van Laan chose the site where a table was prepared near the window, and a dark side of
the countryside did not grasp anything else, rather a moon covered with shadows of its own
dimension of heaven and here and there were few stars.
“I’m engaged, van Laan and his name is Bernard Krauese. A duke by his grandfather’s
side, a Prussian, actually. He’s a good friend of our family, most importantly, of my father, Louis
Gibbons, and an enemy to one who has a chat with you. Aston.” Preparing two glasses of drinks,
she paused. Then she added: “All has come to a halt because of disappearance.” She approached
him, and she gave him one of glasses. “To be honest I don’t like to be engaged with Bernard, but
I am worrying about my father. You should have wars and changes, and I am scared for him.”
Van Laan wasn’t a drinker, but he drank when he wanted. At this moment it wasn’t the
moment.
“What are you asking me, Marchioness Gibbons?”
“I’ve been watching you for the past months.”
“Haven’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve admitted my dare, whether in a sensuous way or whether from a woman’s point
of view, but I am not a seducer, recognizing you’re intellectually adapted to have any woman you
want. And there is a fascination from any part of your knowledgeable approach to have any woman
and to make her to do what you please. To man, either you destroy him or make him willingly to
work for you. The latest encounter was at the House of Kai Hansen, in the reception party.”
“I see you know a little bit of me, Madame. And yes, I do, and that is a moment of suspense
before me. I should show myself in an ostentatious way.”
“I’ve overheard a lot of you from women and their desire and your enigmatic presence and
beyond any men put together.”
“I am a simple man beside that, my lady.”
“I’m afraid you’re more than that, Magnus Dux van Laan, and that’s the way I want you.”
“As a woman, or something else?”
“First, as a daughter, then as a woman. Either way I am the only one.”
“Prussian Rolf Herricht is a man who is easy talk to, Lady Gibbons.”
“He may ask for a favor rather than to accept my father’s willingness.”
“Will I not?”
“No, van Laan. You’re those men who prefer their own path and quest. That’s the reason
you make us wonder what kind of man you are.”
There was silence. Gysbert van Laan wasn’t ready to fall whatever Marchioness Gibbons
would like to take him. He slid the glass onto the surface of the table, and with refinement he got
to his feet. He came to where Gazelle Gibbons sit. He stretched his arms and took from her the
glass and deposited it on the table.
“There is one thing you’re right about me, Marchioness Gibbons,” he said, removing one
of the rainbows when he faced her again. “I am a dangerous man.” He removed the other rainbows.
“Few know that.” He opened the flannelette and had a long look of her body. “You’ll receive a
letter from one of my associates soon, Marchioness Gibbons, where and when you’re going to
expect your beloved father.”
“Are you going to leave me to pay for my own discretion?”
He touched her face sensuously. “From now on, yes.”
“Is there a limit to wait?”
“It’s up to you.”
When he arrived at the house, it was almost twelve o’clock and his most trusted servants
were waiting for him.
“Miss Krikke, have you followed what I instructed?”
“Yes, Magnus van Laan.”
“How is she?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Come with me Gerwin, Ewan, Nino, and Henriette.”
In his private library on the other side of the mansion, he entered, and he took his time to
come to that level of relaxation for which Gerwin Kroes, Ewan Austin, Nino Bunbury, and
Henriette Krebitz knew quite well. Breathing, pacing down in this large room stuffed with books
and portraits, he finally stopped from a flame that appeared to be unbelievably valuable for him.
He pulled out the white cloth over the frame, and it was discovering a chronicle of faces and names.
He brought to his mind this face of Baron de Féliz. He was unable simply to take his eyes from
Baron de Féliz’s eyes and from his lips wrested the question involuntarily. Have you done that,
Monsignor de Féliz?
He moved to the table and lifted five letters, stamped, and sealed by the red line of his
mysterious names – Magnus Dux van Laan. By the time he came to Gerwin, his personality
reached the stage of perfection, and for a moment silence reigned in the library.
He handed him two letters. “You’ll leave today through the route of Spain and give these
letters to Prince Leonardo who is isolated by his father in the Castillo de Iznájar. You'll first give
a visit to Raúl Duala at Mecaliu as a commissioner. Then, you’ll have time to return via France.
I'll meet you at Palais de Castle. Ah, I want you to enjoy Carolina’s company.”
“I’ll, Magnus Dux.” He paused. “Would you be alright?”
He tipped Gerwin’s shoulder with his hand. “I will be.”
Considering the events and the delivered letters to Spain, Gerwin thought it seemed to him
that his master was not. He was incapable simply of questioning him for the serenity of his voice,
and from that smile immersed his own mystery.
“My lady Krebitz, you’ll be Nino’s mistress to cross the channel to Austria, and you’ll
deliver this letter to Marquis Rolf Herricht. The man in question is Louis Gibbons. I want the letter
to be delivered to Madame Noxx. Would you and Nino be able to fulfill this task?”
“Yes, Magnus.”
“If for any reason there will be a problem from the Prussian military forces, this sealed
letter is for Fürt van Wahistaff, Gerhandt.” He handed both a medium bag of gold and currents at
both sides of the continent by the seal of British bank and Austrian value notes. He checked a note
on the desk. “The commercial fleet to Prussia will depart by 2 o’clock.”
Doing his business with them, van Laan faced Ewan Austin. “Lord of House, Duke
Mosdell, is a powerful but weak man, Ewan. He’s fragile for human flesh. The younger the better.
His rickety is about under twelves or less. You find how many of them have fallen under his talons.
Looking for either upper-class or lower ones. Don’t be afraid to spend money. You use one of the
houses in my possession. 71 Gaber Street for instance. It’s an inconspicuous one for a bachelor
like yourself. There is one family he did not silence.
- Writer
