The Warlock's Grandfather Read online

  "There's no danger of that, at the moment."

  "I should say not!" Robin declared. "He wants to be as far from the factory as he can!"

  Rupert turned to stare at his brother. "You understand his feelings?"

  Robin's smile slipped. "Well, let us say I can envision the situation from his perspective."

  Rose turned to gaze at her husband, musing.

  "But don't be concerned, old fellow," Robin said. "If he attempts anything of the kind, I daresay I can talk his sort of reason with him."

  "No doubt you can." Rupert was eyeing his brother a little oddly, but all he said was, "Stay close to him, will you, Robin?"

  "At least I'm doing something beneficial here."

  "Oh, darling, you so undervalue your own accomplishments!" Rose sat down on the bed beside him. "You have three patents in your own name, Robin, and the firm is making a very handsome income from two of them!"

  "Yes, and we could do quite well with the third." Robin smiled ruefully. "Too bad Pater chose to refuse it; Msimangu Mannikins is doing great business with it."

  "Yes, and your father was quite right—clothing design is not what d'Armand Automatons is known for. Please don't object, darling—I do like some royalties, in our own name." Rose didn't count her own inheritance, or her copyrights.

  Robin frowned. "You don't suppose Pater did it deliberately, do you?"

  Rose smiled, amused. "I'm sure he had excellent business reasons, my dear."

  "Which means he was quite aware of the leg-up he was giving me," Robin sighed.

  "Or of allowing you to gain the repute you had earned," Rose corrected, "before he turned the reins over to Rupert."

  Robin smiled, taking her hand. "That's true, isn't it? Rupert can't very well show much interest in any of my designs following in that vein now, can he?"

  "Not really. Your father has cleared the way for you to make your own name, my dear. We really have so much to thank him for—and he is so little trouble to put up with, that I really feel I should be doing more for him!"

  "Well, you do keep Elaine from worrying."

  "No I don't, though I try. At least I can reassure her and allay her concerns as soon as they arise." Rose shook her head. "Why can't the woman see how much she owes to him?"

  "I rather think she believes we should be grateful to her, for condescending to join the family."

  Rose's mouth tightened, but she didn't quite say it.

  "I can see the strain that it puts on you, though," Robin sighed, "especially since little Rollo has started trying to lord it over our boys."

  Rose managed a wan smile. "There isn't much danger of that; they're quick to put him in his place."

  "But then you have to deal with Elaine's complaints." Robin smiled sadly. "You do it so well, my dear!"

  "But can I for much longer?" Rose sighed. "There's bound to be an explosion between us, my dear—two women under one roof was never a sign of tranquility. I think it would have happened months ago, if we hadn't all been distracted by your father's..." Her eyes widened. "Oh, Robin! You don't suppose the old dear did this for us, do you?"

  Robin smiled fondly. "I don't really, darling. Of course, with Pater, one never can tell."

  Rose sighed and shook her head. "Oh, if only we could just whisk him away to a house of our own! I know we could abide him easily enough, if we just didn't have to be concerned about smoothing Rupert's and Elaine's feathers!"

  "We have money enough, now," Robin said, his gaze steady. "Say the word, and I'll buy a plot and rent the robots to start building."

  "No, we couldn't, I'm afraid," Rose sighed. "Rupert and Elaine just wouldn't understand, and they'd be far too hurt. Family should live in the same house, after all, especially when there are so few of us."

  "Traditions," Robin sighed. "I begin to understand why Pater slipped his moorings."

  Rose stroked his hand, and hoped he wouldn't come to understand too well.

  "I do wish there were some way we could have avoided the ball this year, Elaine." Rupert yanked his stock into an angry knot.

  "My dear, the d'Armands have given a Christmas ball for three hundred twenty-two years," Elaine answered, "and I will not let it be said that I was the hostess who broke that tradition."

  "Yes, I know," Rupert sighed, "but this is such an inconvenient year."

  "Because of your father's behavior, you mean? Why Rupert, what makes you think he'll be any different next year?"

  Rupert froze, staring in the mirror. "What a truly appalling notion!"

  The Great Hall was decked in the symbols of the winter that never came to Maxima—frosted evergreens, holly and mistletoe, and plastic icicles. The happy throng of guests trooped in, Elaine and Rupert receiving them graciously with a little cheery chit-chat before they went on in to pick up an intoxicant from a passing robot.

  "Whenever I envy them, I think of this." Robin was watching from across the hall. "I would find it absolutely beastly to have to be so cheerily welcoming to people I can't abide."

  "Yes, I know." Rose's face was haunted with longing. "But it would be so pleasant to be able to welcome friends into one's own home."

  "True," Robin admitted, "but would you really want to have to 'welcome' Dame Hithers?" He nodded at a skinny lady who was gliding across the floor with a hungry, malicious look about her.

  "Perhaps, but I certainly would prefer not to speak with her if I can't welcome her." Rose turned away and began strolling toward the punch bowl. "Your father really should be in the receiving line, though."

  "He certainly has taken the slightest excuse to step out of it." Robin smiled. "Still, he does seem to be doing his share to welcome the guests he likes." He nodded toward the northwest corner, where Count Rory was chatting with a middle-aged matron.

  Rose followed his nod—then stopped, staring. "Yes, he certainly is, though I think he may be going beyond mere welcome. A pinch on the cheek is one thing, but a hand on the shoulder is entirely another. We might wish to be closer, Robin." She turned toward Rory.

  As they came up, they heard Lady Copious tittering, "O, la, my lord! Certainly I am far too ample for such compliments!"

  "Not a bit, milady, not a bit! Why, the more there is of a woman, the more there is to admire!"

  "Admiration befits publicity." Lady Copious deftly deflected a low hand. "But you have always been the soul of propriety, Count Rory."

  "Its letter, perhaps, milady, but never its soul..."

  "Why, you have always been an example of propriety, Beau-Papa!" Rose burbled. "Surely you do not wish to retire from so illustrious a career?"

  "Oh, do I not?" Rory turned to them with easy grace, withdrawing his hand. "Lady Copious, my son and daughter-in-law."

  "Charmed, my dear." In fact, Lady Copious was looking both nettled and relieved. "Robin, I trust you will emulate your father?"

  "I solemnly assure you." Robin inclined his head. "I only flirt with my wife in private."

  Rose darted him a mock-venomed glance, but Lady Copious tittered. "So good of you! But I prefer my flirtations to be public. If you will excuse me, I'll seek out my husband." And she glided off before Rory could object.

  "For shame, Beau-Papa!" But Rose couldn't quite hide her smile. "Will no woman be safe from you?"

  "Only insofar as she wishes to be." Rory gave her a roguish glance out of the corner of his eye.

  "Come, Pater!" Robin throttled a grin down to a smile. "Must I repeat all the rules of conduct you taught me?"

  "Of course not, son—I don't wish to examine you at the moment." Rory tracked a new arrival, a gleam in his eye. "Lady Spriteleigh, however, is another matter. If you will excuse me?" And he sauntered away so quickly that they had no chance to protest.

  "I fear no lady will be safe from him tonight." Rose looked after him, worried.

  "True, so long as she's over forty and well-married." Robin turned her toward the nearest champagne-bearing robot. "The old gentleman still has some notion of courtesy, after all—h
e'd never flirt with a lady who wouldn't enjoy it."

  "True," Rose sighed. "I shouldn't worry. But Robin, what will happen if one of them flirts back?"

  "That," Robin admitted, "could prove difficult."

  They were right to worry. Rory was the life of the ball, though perhaps not in the best of fashions. In fact, he made quite a spectacle of himself, flirting with all the married ladies, and even going so far as to pat the bottoms of the serving-robots.

  "How dare he!" Elaine's face flamed scarlet. "In public!"

  There was no point in telling her there was no harm in it; the harm, so far as she was concerned, was to herself.

  "Fess is trying to moderate his behavior," Robin pointed out.

  "But he needn't heed a robot, need he? Oh, Rupert, you must talk with him."

  "I suppose I must." Rupert turned toward his father, visibly bracing himself for the task.

  But Duchess Hidalgo reached Rory first. Unfortunately, she was in excellent voice. "My lord Count! How dare you commit such improprieties in front of us all!"

  Rory turned to her with a wicked gleam. " 'In front' is scarcely where I have been improper, Duchess."

  "Oh! And you boast of it! What has possessed you, Rory? You have always been such a gentleman!"

  "Yes, and it's been damned dull, if you really want to know." Rory was getting louder, matching her decibel for decibel. "Come, Duchess! Surely you cannot object to a bit of life in our dotage!"

  "Dotage! How dare you, sir! I'll have you know I'm in the prime of my life!"

  "Your 'prime,' Duchess, was—"

  "Sir!" she bellowed, outshouting him. "Mind your manners! What a boor you've become! You are no longer fit company for any lady of..."

  "Avaunt!" Rory staggered backward. "A rescue! The lady has transformed! She has become a fire-breathing dragon! Fess! My sword!"

  "Dragon!" the Duchess howled. "How dare you so insult me, sir!"

  But Robin, at least, realized it was no mere insult. He hurried forward as Rory managed to wrestle one of the prop swords down from the wall. It was only rolled iron, of course, and had no edge, but it could still do damage.

  Robin got to the duchess first. He took her elbow and turned her away by main force, then slipped an arm around her waist and virtually hauled her away. "Come, Duchess, it's time to dine! May I have the honor of bringing you in?"

  Behind him, Fess had deftly caught the blade, and was saying, quite firmly, "No, boss milord master. It is not fitting for a knight to take up his own weapons when he is attended."

  "Was I attended? Did you give me my sword when I demanded it?"

  "No, sahib, because you bade me leave it in your chamber. Do you not remember?"

  "Oh." Rory frowned. "Yes, I do recall you recommending something of the sort. But the dragon, Fess!"

  "Certainly the lady cannot be blamed for the evil enchantment placed upon her, boss man."

  "True." Rory's grip on the sword slackened. "Her mother was something of a witch..."

  Fortunately, the Duchess couldn't hear the remark, mostly because she was herself making too much noise to hear it. "I shall not retreat from the field of battle!" she protested. "No matter how gallantly you attempt it, sir!"

  "I must ask your indulgence," Robin answered, puffing. "My father still suffers from his bereavement."

  The Duchess's resistance lessened. "But it's more than a year, now..."

  "Some take longer to heal than others, Duchess, and my father was extremely attached to my mother."

  "You don't have to tell me that!" the Duchess sniffed. After all, she had propositioned Rory three times down through the years, and he had never once shown the slightest inkling of infidelity.

  Robin reflected that his father probably could have avoided the whole conflict if he had just flirted a bit with the Duchess, too. On the other hand, he might have had to do more than flirt. "But the dinner gong really is sounding, Duchess." He gave the nearest robot a meaningful glare, and it flashed a radio message to the domo-bot, which promptly rolled over to strike the gong. "And I really do wish to take you in to dinner."

  "Well, if you insist," the Duchess muttered, and began to move of her own accord, while Robin reflected that the sins of the fathers might not be visited upon the heads of the sons, but their penances certainly were.

  But the climax of the evening came when Rory sat down next to Lady Prone against the wall in the ballroom, about two in the morning. Exactly what passed between them, nobody knew, but they could hear her gay peals of laughter, and could see his hand on her knee. Robin hurried toward them, and saw Baron Prone closing from another direction, but Rory was saying, "You cannot blame me, when you persist in being so tempting, Madame!"

  "La, sir! I'm far too ripened for such talk, and I'll never..."

  "Never see twenty again? No you won't, but you've come into your prime now, Veronica. Your hair is so rich an auburn, your lips as sweet as cherries! Your eyes are the night sky, and I wish to become your astronaut!"

  "Oh, do you, sir?" Lady Prone swayed closer to him. "I have always preferred older men! Come, can your velocity match my ardor?"

  But before the Count could start matching velocities, Robin came up, caroling, "Ah, Lady Prone! So there you are!"

  The lady started, then glared up at him. "I am as I have always been, sir!"

  "Indeed, and the very picture of loveliness..." Rory began, but Robin turned to him with a firm smile. "Pater, you have wronged your squire."

  Rory stiffened, glaring at him. "Wronged! Why, how say you, sirrah?"

  "You have left him to the mercies of the maidservants, milord, and they are making sport of him."

  Fess had extremely good hearing. He ambled a few steps away to place himself strategically between two servitors.

  "The devil you say!" Rory looked up, glaring, and saw the tableau. "Why, the shameless hussies! Know they not the obligations of chivalry?" Thus reminding himself, he turned back to Lady Prone. "Your pardon, milady, but duty calls."

  "What? Why..." But by the time the lady figured it out, Rory was already halfway across the room. She could only turn her indignation on Robin. "How rude of you to interfere, sir! You have spoiled the most delightful encounter I have had in years!"

  "I am truly sorry, milady." Robin bowed low. "But the obligations of propriety..."

  "Obligations of nonsense! What was this fluff about 'maidservants'?"

  "It was, um, a sort of family code," Robin improvised. Fortunately, young Baron Prone came up just them, saying cheerfully, "Did you know it's two in the morning? Really, I'm afraid we must be off home! ...So good of you to intervene, d'Armand. ...Now, really, you'll take a chill; we must fetch our cloaks..."

  And he bustled away with his grandmother, taking her home unmolested, if disgusted.

  Rose came up just in time to prop Robin up as the air went out of him in a sigh of relief.

  "A little to the left, there... yes, that's it." Rupert relaxed with a soft moan as the robot placed the icebag just right.

  "What was that wretched stuff you forced down my throat, Robin?"

  "Just the old family remedy, Rupert. I should think you'd recognize the flavor by now."

  "I've never had it before," Elaine groaned. "You could have warned me, Rose!"

  "Ah, but if I had, you might not have taken it, Elaine—and you did need it."

  "Certainly I did! What was left for me but intoxication, after the Count made such a shambles of my ball?"

  "Oh, the last hour was really quite pleasant," Rose assured her.

  "Only because the old maniac went to bed. Really, Rupert, we must do something!"

  "Absolutely!" Rupert winced at his own loudness. More quietly, he went on, "His delusion has inconveniences we've only begun to realize."

  "It does seem to be a bit more than we can just quietly live with," Robin admitted.

  " 'Ignore' is the term you need, I believe, brother. And we certainly cannot continue to ignore it!"

  Robin stiffen
ed. "I didn't think I had, Rupert!"

  "No, certainly you didn't," Elaine said quickly. "The two of you were wonderful, Robin. You prevented a major disaster from becoming a total debacle."

  "What's the difference?" Rupert moaned.

  "That at least we will continue to be invited," Elaine answered, "though I doubt anyone will accept our hospitality again!"

  "Perhaps we could persuade Pater to stay in his rooms?" Robin ventured.

  "Perhaps you could," Elaine retorted. "Really, you have an amazing talent for calming the old man, Robin—both of you. It really surpasses understanding."

  " 'Understanding' is the vital term," Rose answered, with a glance at Robin.

  Rupert peered up around his ice-pack. "You really do understand him, don't you? How he feels, I mean."

  "You don't need to hammer the point home, brother," Robin sighed. "I plead guilty."

  "We do, I'm afraid," Rose agreed. "He gave up everything to stay with his wife, and fulfill his responsibilities to his family—but with her gone, he must feel so alone..."

  "And so absurd," Robin agreed, "so much without purpose, as though all his life, all his sacrifice, was for nothing. He wanted to leave, you know—he wanted adventure, excitement. He treasured his few trips to Terra, how he delighted in seeing Paris, Lisbon, London, Vienna, New York, at last..."

  "Quite like a child," Rupert muttered. "He all but clapped his hands and danced."

  "He wanted to live there," Robin explained, "but now the chance is gone."

  "He wanted to go away," Rose added.

  Elaine frowned, not understanding.

  "So he has," Rose finished.

  "Not really," Elaine answered, "and I wish he had. And taken that hideous old robot with him."

  "But Fess is wonderfully loyal," Robin protested, "and still most remarkably deft! I certainly couldn't have calmed Pater without his help!"

  "Oh, I'll admit it functions well enough," Elaine said quickly, "and it surely proved its worth last night, managing to get that sword away from the old Count."

  "He is still in excellent operating condition," Rose pointed out.