"Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - The Spider Glass" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yarbro Chelsea Quinn)

THE SPIDER GLASS
An Edwardian Story
By
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
==========

ItтАЩs only fitting, I think, that we end this volume with one of the seriesтАЩ most favorite contributors.
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro was one of the first women to establish what should have been known by
editors and publishers all alongтАФthat women can write тАЬthis stuffтАЭ just as well as men. Sadly,
she and the other women in the field still have to prove it, it seems. That is, not to put too fine a
point on it, dumb. A writer is a writer is a writer, by God, and what the hell does sex have to do
with the price of apples ? Nevertheless, she perseveres. She grows. She gives us some of the best
writing the field has ever seen. And when Shadows finally, inevitably comes to an end, I can only
hope that it will end with something she has written.

==========

тАЬTHERE IS A curious tale behind this mirror, actually. IтАЩm pleased you noticed it,тАЭ their host said to the
select and exclusively masculine company that had gathered in the Oak Parlor at Briarcopse after dinner.
He reached for the port and rather grandly offered it around. тАЬSurely youтАЩll have some. It was laid down
the year I was bornтАФsplendid stuff. My father was quite the expert in these matters, I assure you.тАЭ

Five of his guests accepted with alacrity; the sixth declined with a polite, Continental bow, and the Earl
put the decanter back onto the silver tray set out on the gleaming mahogany table. тАЬDonтАЩt stand on
ceremony, any of you,тАЭ he said with a negligent wave of his long, thin hand. He then settled back in his
chair, a high-backed, scallop-topped relic of the reign of Queen Anne, and propped his heels on the
heavy Tudor settle before the fire. Slowly he lit his cigar, savoring the aroma and the anticipation of his
guests.

тАЬFor the lord Harry, WhittenfieldтАжтАЭ the rotund gentleman with the brindled mutton-chop whiskers
protested, though his indignation was marred by an indulgent smirk.

Their host, Charles Whittenfield, ninth Earl of Copsehowe, blew out a cloud of fragrant, rum-scented
tobacco smoke and stared at the small, dull mirror in its frame of tooled Baroque silver. тАЬIt is a curious
tale,тАЭ he said again, as much to himself as any of the company. Then, recalling his guests, he directed his
gaze at his wiry, middle-aged cousin who was in the act of warming his brandy over one of the candles.
тАЬDominick, you remember my motherтАЩs Aunt Serena, donтАЩt you?тАЭ

тАЬI remember all the women on that side of the family,тАЭ Dominick said promptly. тАЬThe most amazing
passel of females. My mother refuses to mention half of themтАФshe feels they arenтАЩt respectable. Well, of
course theyтАЩre not. Respectable Women are boring.тАЭ

тАЬYes, IтАЩm always amazed by them. And why they all chose to marry such sticks-in-the-mud as they did,
I will never understand. Still, they make the family lively, which is more than I can say for the malesтАФnot
a privateer or adventurer among them. Nothing but solid, land-loving, rich, placid countrymen, with a yen
for wild girls.тАЭ He sighed. тАЬAnyway, Dominick, Great-aunt SerenaтАФтАЭ

Dominick nodded with vigorous distaste that concealed a curious pride. тАЬMost misnamed female I ever
encountered. That whole side of the family, as Charles saysтАФthey marry the most unlikely women.
Serena came from Huguenot stock, back in the middle of the seventeenth century, I think.тАЭ He added this