Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The Darien Chest

Lord and Lady Wellesley pulled in to the driveway of Lord Palmerston-Napier, on their way to the airport to attend the wedding of Miss Dwynedowers in New York. "Palmy, old sport, we've left the keys to Windfroth Manor underneath the pygmy garden gnome. If that Mancunian dolt ever gets his act together then I'll be in touch, because someone will have to let him in to work on the renovations."  Palmerston nodded obligingly, but in truth was too indisposed with the ongoing death of Lady Edgeworth-Box to really be of any help to Wellesley. "And one more thing Palmy, I've found the bylaws at last. I've left them in a sealed envelope on the chest in the study. Please ensure they are filed with the Auxiliary Arcadians this week. Double Cuneiforms depends on it."

Hearing this, as he stood hidden in nearby bushes, Thuggery Sven decided that it was about time he ought leave the grounds of Lord Palmerston-Napier in favour of finding more comfortable lodgings. Not even Robin Hood would think it much fun to roam about the forest these days. Besides, following the untimely demise of Lady Edgeworth-Box, some officials had been known to visit, and it seemed best to stay out of their way. 

The next day, upon finishing the last of one of Doris' brethren, Sven picked himself up and headed down the road towards Windfroth Manor. At about exactly the same time that Lord and Lady Wellesley finally arrived at The Waldorf Astoria, Sven was sitting with his feet up by the fire, smoking one of the Baron's pipes. "Its like I've lived here all my life" he thought to himself, the way white people tend to do. Throwing papers in to stoke the fire, he noticed a fascinating chest. It looked old and he was determined to break in and find what was inside. Relenting only for now, he decided it would have to be an ongoing project.

At that moment Sven could hear someone coming. Quickly realising it was Palmerston coming to look for the by law papers, (which were now burnt to cinders), Sven set about making a replacement. He ran into the study and grabbed the first scribbles he could find, before rapidly putting out the fire and hiding in the cellar. Funnily enough. it turns out that Wellesley had all along been an inheritor of an investment in a middle-eastern hydroelectric scheme, and unwittingly among his copious financial correspondence, was receiving regular investment reports. The most recent one, as just handled by Sven, spoke of a new school that opened up in the mountain town nearby the hydroelectric dam. The report also attached an interesting new book that had captured the imagination of the townsfolk.

At roughly the same time that the 119th official bylaws of the Double Cuniform club were stamped, filed and fully ratified by the summer intern at the office of the Auxiliary Arcadians lodge, Wellesley was drinking a toast to the new Mrs St Regis of the Upper West Side. He turned aside, "Lady Wellesley, do you care to dance?" and the happy couple made their way to the dance floor, knocking back one of many celebratory gin and tonics.

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