The Devil's Fever

1

Weston hated these things.

The clinking of the tea cups as they returned to their saucers, the tension in the air that he knew would lead nowhere, the painful gaps between topics of conversation.

His Aunt, however, was in her element.

"So you're a keen rider I hear?" She arched a look over to her nephew, her giddy optimism causing him to turn his gaze upwards and suddenly become interested in the fresco he'd seen a thousand times before.

"Yes Mrs. Argyle."

"Please, call me Binnie"

"Of course."

These were the exact kinds of conversational flotsam that made his insides burn. It wasn't that he thought he was better than them (though he did think he was better than them), it just felt like a terrible waste of everyone's time.

"I find them majestic when they get up to pace and there's a real stillness amongst the chaos when you ride."

She was nice enough. Carried the conversation well, seemed excellently read and had a real sense of character to her. But Weston wasn't interested. He was never interested.

"Oh Elizabeth you really do have a lovely turn of phrase, doesn't she have a lovely turn of phrase William?"

Weston, bumped out of his self-imposed stupor, finally joined the conversation, "Yes."

Aunt Binnie was not the violent type, but her face in that moment indicated she may be reconsidering.

----------

"Don't bother to come next time", crashed Binnie, her constant flittering around the room indicating how physical her displeasure with her nephew was.

"No, I find these meets very engaging", lied Weston.

"You spent half the time looking at the fresco", Binnie had come to a stop to deliver this dart, her eyes firmly fixed upon the object of her ire.

"Yes, there's a couple of spots that need touching up now that you mention it."

Binnie swallowed her response, she didn't want to dignify his obtuseness. Weston could sense his Aunt's upset, and quickly tacked a course to rectify.

"I do really appreciate you doing all of this Aunty," no reply came. He tried again, "and it's really very nice of you to find so many-"

"You are going to die alone James, is that what you want?"

A smile crept across Weston's face, he did so enjoy his Aunt's flair for the dramatic.

"I will be fine Aunt Binnie."

"You shall be lonely. When everyone else is running around with grandchildren and all you will have are browning pages of old scientific papers and memories of meeting a thousand perfectly eligible women and turning them all away", a haughtiness had crept into Binnie's chastisement, a sure sign she now thought she had the high ground.

"I don't think we're quite at the thousands yet."

"I don't think we're far off, do you?" Binnie's tart response brought a pause from Weston, she did get rather pointed at times.

"I will find the right woman soon, don't fret on my account Binnie."

"I do not fret for you James, I fret for whichever poor woman you settle upon after you have rejected every other one on the planet."

And at that Aunt Binnie swept out of the room. She still enjoyed ending a scene with a flourish, a hangover of her fondness of nights at the theatre Weston thought, as he unfolded the day's newspaper and settled in for the read.