Well Met by Gaslight

By George Berger

Somewhere in England, in the mid 19th century, a handsome but disreputable man is hired to assault a young woman. This ill-conceived plan immediately falls to ruins when he attacks the wrong person - an angry young lady with a fondness for violence, who is not afraid to speak her mind, at length. Discovering that there is much more afoot than first meets the eye, the most unlikely duo become improbable and uneasy partners as they seek to confront the plot's evil mastermind. Their plans may not proceed as expected, but they may still manage to escape a night neither will forget alive, and perhaps even together.

A slightly dark Victorian anti-romance in 10,000 words, Ill Met by Gaslight is a touching if disturbing tale of ego, arrogance, and familial violence sure to entertain and delight young and old alike.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Berger
• Release date: Mar 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458148179

George Berger

George Berger has written for Sounds, Melody Maker and Amnesty International amongst others. His previous book was a biography of the Levellers: State Education/No University.

Book preview

Well Met by Gaslight

A Hortence and Zedock Adventure

Copyright © 2011 George Berger

ISBN 978-1-4581-4817-9 (ePub ed.)

Electronically published by Smashwords

Visit the author's website at http://www.mendacities.net

First Edition

It was a bright and pleasant night in that genteel backwater town, and the silvery rays of the moon, full as a pregnant dog with promises of intrigue and romance, shone and sparkled through the cloudless sky, casting their tender illumination without discrimination upon sights both mundane and intriguing. Counted without question among the latter was a dark-suited, fair-haired figure who made his way with modest quickness up the vertical expanses of an ivy-covered wall that stoically supported one end of the sprawling mansion which had belonged, for at least five generations, to the local branch of a certain family of some small renown in richer and more sophisticated surroundings than this. He–with the sureness of hand and foot with which he scaled the greenery, gone dark grey in the moonlight, there could be no doubt that he was a he and not a she, even without seeing his ruggedly handsome face–moved silently and with great determination, growing ever further from the sweet embrace of terra firma even as he approached a large and dramatically Gothic balcony.

As he reached, at last, the level of that balcony, finely assembled years ago of carefully-crafted stone now worn and weathered by decade after decade of exposure to the whimsical furies of nature itself, he pulled himself with practiced ease onto and then over the railing, finally coming to stand suavely upon the very surface of the balcony itself. There he paused for a brief moment to double-check his impeccable sartorial excellence, before, having done so, pausing once more to admire his reflection in the glazed doors before him. He was tall, with well-cut hair, a square chin, and a handsomely aristocratic nose, and dressed in a three-piece suit of fine imported wool, expertly tailored to fit his lean and muscular frame. On his average-sized feet were laced a matching pair of hand-tooled shoes made from the tough and gorgeous hide of an exotic and unpronounceable foreign animal.

He was, in short, a stunningly handsome man of indeterminate age, blessed with a supple body, a keen mind, a comprehensive if occasionally ignored sense of right and wrong, and–not least–the sort of face that launched a thousand inappropriate and sin-filled fantasies. Oh, he was not without his faults, it must be said–he had a relentless, almost enthusiastic inability to appreciate fine liquor, his left foot was half a size larger than his right, and he had eyes–deep rich swirling orbs that twinkled when he laughed and fairly glowed when he was taken with strong emotion–that were occasionally and not entirely without cause described upon some occasions as weaselly and even squirrelly. In sufficiently poor light, however, and from the right angle, it could not be denied by anyone save perhaps his debtors that he was a dangerously attractive gentleman.

Having examined his reflection and found