Valedictoria Scott and the Diplomatic Mission

By Patricia A. Leslie

Valedictoria has been hired as the executive secretarialist for three diplomats, on a daring secret mission for the Anglian government. To her surprise, one of them is her special friend Sir Anthony Harrow, personally asked to participate, by Sir Doug Cedarchest and Lady Bitsy. This assignment takes her on a journey across the Atlantic, to the Union of Columbian States of Americia. She soon finds herself a guest at the mansion of Lady Xenophilia Tingleworthy, Sir Anthony Harrow's expatriate aunt! It's a strange new land of spies and politicians, trade-unions and secret societies, fanatics and fantastic creatures, romance and treachery, and unpleasantly hot weather. Perhaps it was not the best timing for a break-up with Sir Anthony - a gentleman who could usually be counted on to step in and do a spot of rescuing, when needed! And what about Anthony's second cousin Tyrannia, who is so very certain that she is his fiancee? At least Valedictoria has two new allies and trusted advisors, in Doug and Bitsy's Scottish maids, Drusilla and Honoraria, who are not only servants, but also advanced initiates in a powerful secretive society known as the Lesbonic Order.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia A. Leslie
• Release date: Oct 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005143435

Patricia A. Leslie

Patricia A. Leslie is left-handed, and a Virgo. She loves dogs (and cats are her least favorite animal - which is a departure for a writer of speculative paranormal fiction). Her degree from UC Berkeley is in cultural anthropology. An interesting fact is that her admiration for Ursula K. LeGuin is what finally led her to studying anthropology in her forties (since Ms. LeGuin's work is all very deeply informed by anthropological ideas). And when Patricia did get an opportunity to go to college to study anthro, she in fact got her degree in the very anthro department that was founded and developed by Ms. LeGuin's father, Alfred Kroeber.The Arts have always been close to Patricia's heart. Although her life up through high school provided nearly no opportunities to enjoy the Arts or express herself through them, once she got out of school and away from her parents, the Arts did become central to her life. At various times she has studied and/or participated in: Scottish and English Country Dance, Ladies' Solo Scottish Dance, theatrical costuming, crochet, Balkan folk dance, Hawaiian dance ('Auwane and Kahiko), swing dance, folk siniging, classical style voice training, watercolor painting, sumi-e brush painting, drawing in ink or pastels, and ceramic sculpture. She has performed as an improv actor, directed stage plays, written, adapted, and translated for the stage, written poetry, songs, and parody lyrics, been an opera supernumerary, written and doctored screenplays, made a 20 minute documentary film about Neopaganism, and -- last but most gratifying of all -- in 2009, plunged deeply into writing fiction. She has, to date, written 7 novels, 4 novellas, 3 novelettes, a dozen short stories, and a variety of uncategorizable humor pieces.Other oddities include: still married to the same man after 41 years... she is a Second Degree Reiki initiate... she's a very good dog trainer... in addition to the BA in anthro at Cal, she has a certificate in museum studies, a cert in teaching ESL, has attended training in the use of Bach and North American flower remedies (essences), and has a mail-order MS in metaphysics. She started teaching herself French at about age eight, by means of Berlitz records. She spent her elementary school years in upstate New York, where she delighted in playing with toads, turtles, salamanders, frogs, and garter snakes. During two of those years (age 9-10) her family lived in a house with a poltergeist.

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VALEDICTORIA SCOTT and the DIPLOMATIC MISSION

Patricia A. Leslie

Published by Quailcottage Books at Smashwords

Copyright 2017 by Patricia A. Leslie

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VALEDICTORIA SCOTT and the DIPLOMATIC MISSION

Morriconia Dockside, Anglia

21 November, 1871

SIR ANTHONY S. Harrow! You utterly damnable wretch! What an inordinate amount of crude nerve you have! The very idea, thinking you could lure me back with such a transparent ruse! Valedictoria Scott was pale in her fury.

Turning at the sound of her much-missed voice, Anthony thought she had never looked lovelier. A flush was now suffusing her livid cheeks; heightened colour had come to her lips as well, and her eyes had an almost electrical flash about them. His first impulse was to hasten back the intervening eight feet, take her in his arms, and kiss her until she either stopped struggling or kicked him in the shin. However, the last time they were together, that particular choice of alternatives had not really worked out to his advantage. And this time, their both being on a steep, narrow gangplank, part-way up to the deck of a large steamship, made it a decidedly awkward place for either a lovers’ quarrel or reunion. Particularly, with a large number of onlookers, including the first mate and bosun up on deck, and Anthony’s two fellow diplomats stepping up in single file, only a few paces behind Valedictoria.

He, of course, was not much concerned about his own reputation, having had none, since he was eighteen or nineteen. However, he had, to date, gone to excessive lengths, to be careful and solicitous of hers. So, smiling back down at her, he responded with the first moderating words that occurred to him. Ah. Miss Scott. How pleased I am, to see that you remember me.

"Remember you? Barely! Only to forget you, as thoroughly as may be! So now, I see there was never – never any actual job at all! So! This was all a cunning ploy, to try to get me alone on a boat, where I could not avoid you?"

A snort of indignation, and Boat! was heard from near the deck-railing.

Oh, come now, Miss Scott. If I wished to compel you to meet me, I have a variety of options at my disposal. Being a magistrate, I could always simply have had you arrested, and come to interview you in a cell at the gaol.

She gasped. "You. Would. Not!"

"Well, I had rather not. But if you wish to persist in being so very difficult? he smirked at her, enjoying this witty teasing. There is the matter of a certain unsecured loan, and a lapse in payments."

"What? Do you mean to say you would? Oh! You absolute monster! If she had been angry before, now her rageful indignation was white-hot. You, you domineering brute of a man! Just like them all! And I fell into your trap! For a while. Only a while. I see through you, now!"

Anthony laughed pleasantly, still trying to protect Ria from making herself an object of scandal. Ah, ever the comedienne, Miss Scott! I make no mistake we shall have a gay and witty time of it in the Great Saloon, with yourself along on the crossing! He glanced past her, with a grin and nod at the woman waiting not far behind.

"Hum! You are quite, quite mistaken, Mister Harrow, if you think for a moment that I have the slightest intention to- eeeeeeeeEEE!" Her monologue ended abruptly, due to a sudden loss of footing on the damp, algae-slicked wooden incline. She had made a most dramatic turn on her heel, in preparation for marching back down, squeezing past the people who stood in the way, regaining the solid Earth, and walking away stiffly, without a backward glance. However, in practice, she only got as far as the dramatic turn. Then, unplanned slippage intervened and cancelled the rest of the performance.

Exhibiting the graceful agility for which he was justifiably famed amongst his gentleman-adventurer peers, Anthony sprang forward, closing the gap between himself and her, in three long paces. Just as she was beginning to slide sideways over the gangplank edge, he swooped in low, and one-armed, grasped her firmly about the corset (just below the bosom, in fact). This prevented her from further, helpless progress towards the dark and noisome harbour-water in the treacherous thin gap betwixt ship-hull and dock.

His other hand, gripping fast to a handrail of thick hemp rope, was securing them both from a potentially deadly plunge. He thanked a well-aspected astrological chart that (the morning being chill despite its being the end of June), just five minutes sooner he’d pulled on an elegant, bespoke pair of gloves personally crafted by Lorenzo LaGiubba. Not being wearing them, could have led to a nasty rope-burn. They were a perfect complement to his new, low-crowned travelling hat (both being of dove-grey, heavy-spun SynthiSilk by Rondollo), but the gloves bore a significant addition, in the form of Suppé’s Excelsior Brand Grippi-Leatherette being neatly hand-appliquéd to the undersides of palm and fingers. He’d had no inkling that this superb design would come in so handy, so soon.

Although, he observed to himself, nothing, of course, is more likely to come in handy, than gloves. He thought Ria would appreciate this play on words, and nearly mentioned it; but then reminded himself, that perhaps she would not be at her most receptive, just now. They were in a seated attitude – nearly lounging against the walkway – she reclining against him, her back pressed to his chest, his arm still quite solidly clamped across her front and holding her assertively (lest she wriggle too much and go over the side after all). His new hat was, remarkably, still on his head, at which he felt gratified.

Whilst they still vaguely floundered together on the grimy planking, the tall, attractive, well-dressed woman standing calm but alert just a few feet down-plank, now asked kindly if there were anything she might do to assist. The tall, attractive, well-dressed, somewhat older gentleman just at her shoulder, who seemed to be with her, echoed the query.

No, no, I am quite all right, thank you though, muttered Valedictoria. She was just now regaining her self-awareness, and a glance over her shoulder discovered to her that it was Anthony – damn it – who had saved her. At least her limbs. Possibly, her life. How extremely annoying, she said to herself, that of all the people to have to be obliged to be grateful to, why – why?! – must it be him? Unhand me, Anthony! she stated.

Paying her no heed,Thank you, Lady Bitsy, Lord Doug, said the object of her resentment. Instinctively, he shook a dark, wavy lock back from his eyes, making himself look even more rakishly attractive. "Well, in fact, I do think you might be of help. If the two of you could just take careful hold of Miss Scott – perhaps, each, a hand? But do also secure yourselves with a hold on the hand-rope, she can be quite lively when distressed – and hoist her a bit. I shall boost from behind, to insure a fundamental sense of support. With a blithely confident smile of apology, he acknowledged the first mate up on board, who had been anxiously watching the unfolding of events (which happened to be completely blocking the captain – now right behind Lord Doug – from coming on board and giving the order to cast off). We shall then be able to proceed with embarking."

Valedictoria was already recovered enough from her shock, to find insulting, his references to hoisting her. If he had not been, at that moment, exerting skilful leverage to her posterior (whilst in front, two titled strangers conducted the corollary elevationary exercise) she would certainly have considered giving him a tight slap. As it was, she felt only able to defy him with words. "I say, I am. Not. Going. Anywhere. With. You, Sid- ah – Anth- um – Mister Harrow!"

Oh dear, Anthony replied with infuriating equanimity. Then, I take it you are not, at present, in need of an extraordinarily well-paying job? In particular, the short-term secretarialist position currently going here?

On her feet now, she turned about to confront him (after taking a careful, secure grip of the rope railing)."Certainly not! To Hades with that! Not if if means being stuck with you, on a boat!"

There was another offended snort from the first mate, and a plaintive, "Ship. It’s a ship," drifted to their ears.

Anthony’s smile fell away. Oh, come now, Ria. Don’t you think this silly little tiff has gone far enough?

Ah, if I may, Anthony? interjected Lady Bitsy, who had been observing the gathering clouds of argument with great curiosity, and now sighted imminent signs of an emotional storm – if not outright hurricane – breaking over their colleague. She stepped close to the freshly-travel-stained young woman and tapped her on the shoulder, with the authority of a person accustomed to dealing with the help.

"Now, I say, Miss Scott, do be reasonable. I can assure you that there is most definitely a real job, arrangements for which Sir Anthony had no involvement. Your agent did, in fact, legitimately contract the employment with myself and my husband here, Lord Douglas Cedarchest, Duke of Chestboro. I am Lady Ethelberta, Duchess of Chestboro."

It was with a sinking feeling, that Valedictoria received the news that these were, in fact, her new, contracted employers (before whom she’d been swearing, acting emotional, exhibiting hints of having some history with Anthony, and executing a most humiliating pratfall, which necessitated their helping to hoist her off of that gentleman). With an effort, she forced a blandly polite smile, and directed more attention to what the Duchess was saying.

"But you, being a certificated executive secretarialist, you will be permitted to call me Lady Bitsy. We are tasked – by the Parliament – with a most significant diplomatic mission. Indeed, we sail on the tide, within the hour – that is, if we can ever finish boarding the bloody ship – for the Americian Alliance. To be specific, the portion called the Union of Columbian States in Americia. I do think certain, that Anthony could have known nothing about your being the one employed, until he saw you arrive. You see, he joins us at Lord Douglas’s particular request, as a most effective adjunct, in case the whole mission goes south."

Aye, quite right, interjected Lord Doug. "We might indeed be obliged to travel to that damned backwards southern part of the Alliance: the benighted Americian Confederation of Confederationism. Damn silly mouthful of a name for a nation, if you ask me. Takes up a whole line, too, if one’s got to write it out in longhand. Union of Columbian States in Americia – that one’s got a certain elegance, at least. If a bit pretentious. Anyhow, they themselves like to shorten it to UCSA – can’t argue with that kind of efficiency. We chose Anthony ‘cause he’s a good man with weaponry, good man with horses, good man with electrical devices. What else, Bitsy? Oh yes, well-versed in history and political science. And he’s been on the stage. Devilish useful, when going incognito, hey? In short, just the sort of fellow a fellow wants at his side, both in diplomatic negotiations, and if things get rough. But you hardly need worry your pretty blonde head about that last bit, little lady. With any luck, we’ll be able to resolve everything whilst remaining entirely on UCSA land, where they’re measurably more civilised."

Lady Bitsy now took up the narrative again. "We would of course, be much inconvenienced, if you were to change your mind now, at this late hour. There is no more time, you see, to go seek a replacement secretarialist. We would have to try and find someone competent, on the Americian side. But over there, they don’t get the thorough training, you see. And beyond that, there is the diplomatic nature of the journey. We could never be certain that all our communications were entirely secure, if entrusted to the knowledge of an Americian. Hopeless people at keeping secrets. so, you see? I’m afraid you would be rather letting down our side."

Valedictoria made several rapid mental calculations. One, was that this assignment, including seven days’ travel round-trip, had been presented to her, as being a minimum of sixty-six hours per week, four weeks, all paid at time-and-a-half of the going rate for executive-secretarialist services (that amount guaranteed at the assignment’s end, even if it were to be completed in less than four weeks). Lodgings and meals all found, in addition to a per-diem allowance for personal necessities, made the already-excellent pay even better. There was also a generous hazard fee, simply because it was Americia (but she did not imagine there would ever be any serious danger – diplomacy, she’d read, was all about expensive suppers, hand-shaking, and long meetings in large buildings full of architecture).

She then compared the probable earnings, over against the loan amount for which she was already indebted to Anthony, for what she herself had always insisted, was to be temporary and repayable support, after they’d become paramours. Which, of course, they were no longer. Deciding to forgo this job, would leave her accounts still very far in the red – close to purple, in fact. Whereas, this one assignment would go a long way to reducing that debt – perhaps, halving it or better. Moreover, she’d been assured by the agent, that if the Cedarchests liked her work, there was a very good chance they would keep her on permanently afterwards, as a private secretary. That would be still more helpful, to her economic situation. After surviving her first secretarial employment at Barkingmede Ventures Ltd., Finest Tea Importers (which had lasted not quite a fortnight), she’d taken another, better-sounding job. However it had not turned out to be very good either; she’d left that one after only three weeks. She quickly put that place out of her thoughts, as usual.

The other large item in the deficit column, was the almost certain damage to the goodwill of the employment-agent, in regard to arranging any further work assignments, if she should cause him embarrassment with titled clients, by walking away from a contract.

Really, there was no good reason not to keep the job, since she did feel, in truth, quite equal to the task of keeping Anthony at arm’s length, and insisting that he treat her with civility. Finally, glancing about, and seeing that everyone in her view, had her in their view, and that none of them was looking greatly pleased with her (except Anthony, who appeared far too entertained) she coloured up again, and concluded that the only reasonable way to publicly save face, was quickly and calmly agreeing to proceed with the assignment for which she’d contracted.

"Of course, I would never wish to make any difficulty for the affairs of our nation, Lady, um and Lord, um – Cedarchest. Naturally, I have every intention of carrying out my duties as your secretarialist. Professionalism is my watch-word. I am so sorry that the shock and fright of that dangerous fall – really, they ought to see about making these walk-ways safer, don’t you agree? – seems to have left my thoughts a bit confused for a few moments. Almost lost in some sort of waking dream. In my mind, I was, um, back at my very first job, and being, um, intimidated by the, um, man of the establishment. (Meaning, of course, scullery-maid to Sir Trethergill Bawluckis – but the Cedarchests didn’t need to know any of that.) She smiled brightly. But my head is quite clear now! Do let us all embark, I now am certainly equal to climbing the ramp-plank! Shall I go ahead, or