Page 29 of Six Types of Apology

Vincent seemed pleased with the interest. “Those, my curious husband, are pumps. The city of Faast, the way it’s situated below the mountain range up there.” He pointed to the horizon line where Orion could see a line of hills. “It means any time there’s a heavy rainfall, these streets can be prone to flooding. Mother had the pumps designed and installed when I was about eight years old. Everyone is taught as part of their schooling how to operate them. In the event of a flood, anyone closest to the pumps can turn them on. The excess water is sucked into the hoses, and then pumped underground where there is a series of pipes that send the water out from where it might do damage to homes and businesses. It’s very effective.”

“That’s an ingenious idea,” Orion said, smiling. He looked around some more. “Do you not have an open air market here?”

“Why?” Vincent chuckled. “Are you thinking of setting one up?”

“I’m just getting my bearings.” Orion shook his head. “In Tyrion the citizens there love the idea of the marketplaces. It is another area where people can congregate, but more importantly it’s a venue where the regular townsfolk can sell handmade items and crafts on a smaller scale without having to outlay for the expense of a shop or permanent retail building. This allows them to sell their items directly to their customers, for cheaper than they might have to if they had a shop. But then if you have a flooding issue…”

“No. No. Our rainy season here is only about one month in twelve.” Vincent had his thinking face on. He always tapped his chin with his forefinger when he had something on his mind. “Having a market though, doesn’t that take business away from established companies that have bought or lease a building to sell from?”

“It doesn’t seem to, no. Established businesses have already built a reputation for the types of goods and services they provide. In fact, many of them appreciate the increased foot traffic the market brings into the retail area in town. And there are some businesses that start off in the market space, testing out their new products or craft items, who will then go into a permanent building if they build a similar reputation themselves. It seems to work.” Orion chuckled and pointed a discreet finger at a young girl who was waving madly at the carriage. “It looks like you have a fan.”

“Good day to you, Lady Molly.” Vincent waved madly and then did a half bow as the carriage went past. “She’s adorable. Her parents run a bakery that we will visit before heading back to thecastle. The sweet pastries there are incredible. But first we need to visit with our tailor.”

/~/~/~/~/

Orion had a love hate relationship with royal tailors. The one in Tyrion honestly acted as though he was doing his clients a favor being in the same room with them. Mr. Grainger, in Faast, was cut from the same cloth.

“I will endeavor to do my best to create you something similar in time for the event tomorrow evening, your highness,” he said in a lofty voice, fingering the material on Orion’s waistcoat and then checking his fingertips as if to make sure he didn’t get any dirt on them. “The color choices in this particular piece are an unusual combination…”

“And that’s what I want, Humphrey.” Vincent beamed at the dour man. “This was made in Tyrion. I told my husband that I was sure our royal tailor could make something that would compare or even rival his garment, which was originally a betrothal gift from me. I’m sure you won’t let me down.”

“I wouldn’t dream of letting you down, your highness.” Mr. Grainger pulled himself up to his full height of four foot ten. “It’s just…the material is definitely unusual. Crown Prince Consort, do you know where your tailor sourced the unusual threads that make up this garment? It is, without doubt, beautifully crafted in its construction, it’s just the threads are…unusual.”

“That would be because Martha, the lady who makes and sells these waistcoats, spins, dyes, and then weaves the fabrics herself.” Orion smiled, seeing the horror Mr. Grainger was trying to hide. “Each item is entirely unique, and no color combination is ever repeated. My husband bought me three of these, and he will attest that while they all share the same cut and size, each waistcoat looks very different from the others.”

“They are so beautiful, Humphrey.” Vincent slipped his hand around Orion’s arm. “You should’ve seen her stall. It was so bright and colorful, it stood out from everything else in the marketplace.”

“A marketplace stall. How quaint.” Mr. Grainger seemed to want to say more on the subject, but then perhaps he remembered who he was speaking to. “I have no doubt that as the only royal tailor in Faast, my associates and I will have no trouble creating a suitable similar garment for you, your highness, and it will give me a great sense of pride to know you will be wearing it to such an auspicious event.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Humphrey. I’ll expect delivery at the castle no later than tomorrow afternoon. Come along, Orion. We have a bakery to visit.”

Orion managed to keep his laughter to himself until they were well clear of the shop. “That man,” he said, laughing so hard he almost fell as he was helped into the carriage. “Did you hear the way he said marketplace stall? And calling it quaint? He must’ve used the word unusual at least four times.”

“Humphrey is one of those businesses who prides itself on his closeness to the crown, although he was devastated when my father passed away.” Vincent jumped in beside him, closing his door before the driver even had a chance. “With having four sisters, I was the only one left he can outfit now, as he doesn’t do women’s fashion at all. And now you of course. My mother has a wonderful dressmaker for herself and my sisters. But I do feel sometimes Humphrey doesn’t understand my fashion sense.”

“I’ve seen you in two formal outfits that are very dashing, and one might say unusual. That lavender outfit you wore for our wedding wasn’t what you’d call a traditional color a person might wear to get married in.”

Vincent leaned closer. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had those made for me in Monce. Prince Serron put me onto his tailor, who also does amazing work.”

“You do realize that the waistcoat you’re going to get is not going to look like anything Martha made, don’t you?”

“He said he would make me a similar garment, so we will just have to wait and see.”

Orion sat back in the carriage as they moved through the streets again, a quiet smile on his face. He’d wager Martha’s skills against Mr. Grainger’s any day of the week.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“That ridiculous man has made this out of gold and black threads, and look…look. It covers my butt.” Vincent stormed out of the room where he’d been dressing, getting ready for the night’s event, into the sitting room where Orion was waiting with John and Morgan.

It was the next day. The package had arrived from the tailor an hour earlier, but Vincent had resisted opening it. “I want it to be a surprise for you when you see it on me,” he’d told Orion, even though he was secretly excited to see the new waistcoat for himself. Or at least he had been until he actually saw it. It was worse when he put it on.

“Look at it.” Vincent waved his hands at the offending material. “This is meant to be a waistcoat, just like my husband’s. Covering my shoulders, but leaving my arms bare, and cut into the waist here,” he pointed to his waist. “This thing,” he tugged at the bottom of the offending garment. “This thing goes way past my waist, and hips, and is almost down to my knees!”

Orion, who was already dressed and had been sitting reading, smirked from where he was seated. “At least it’s not robe length,” he offered. “It’s very demure, and the color looks dashing on you.”

“I have got coats and robes in this color already.” Vincent stomped into the bedroom and grabbed a handful of material items from his closet. Going back into the sitting room, he said, “Look at this. A robe in gold and black. A coat in gold and black. Oh, look here, another robe in…wait for it…gold and black threads. Oh, here’s something different.” Dropping the other items on the floor, he held onto one piece that looked like a robe as well. “He’s used silver for this one. Silver and black. How radical of him.” He dropped that one on the floor and walkedover them. “There’s no color. Why are the only colorful items I have in my closet clothes I bought from somewhere outside of Faast?”

“You’re going to have to wear it.” Orion wasn’t looking at him directly, but Vincent could still see the smirk. “You told Mr. Grainger you would when you impressed on him you needed it for the event tonight. He will be gutted if you wear something else.”

---