The Third Uncle

Chapter Three: 'Tick, tock, tock'

Chapter Three: ‘Tick, tock, tock‘     

                                                                                                                                                   

    Well, honestly! How did he expect her to fall asleep now?! Francesca lay the pages down and picked up the envelope again. She ran her finger along the rough edges of the paper, and then frowned, something caught her eye. Blowing into it she saw that there was very fine writing along the inside of it. She carefully pulled the envelope apart and held it up to the candlelight, it seemed to be nothing more than a reduced collection of old newsprint articles about home and abroad.

    ‘What to do, what to do?’ She hummed quietly to herself. ‘Well, when in doubt ...’ She opened a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a gold and silver gilt mirror with small translucent jewelled rosettes that wound around a vine that, in turn, wound around the glass and ended by twining itself into a leafy handle. Francesca looked into the slight imperfections of the mirror and her reflection. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled over the surface of it, fogging it slightly, and produced her prettiest pout. ‘Specchio, who is the fairest of them all?’ The mirror slowly came to life in her hands, turning all shades of violet before settling upon the very pale pink of the sky just before sunset. Her reflection re-appeared beneath the fogged surface and looked at her, much as one expects a mirror to do until it frowned when Francesca did not frown and opened its mouth to yawn an enormous yawn. ‘Francesca, darling, what time is it? God, you really must look at yourself, you’re getting old before your time, really ...’ 

    ‘Specchio,’ Francesca interrupted, a little annoyed. ‘I need your help.’

    Her reflection gazed critically at her nightgown. ‘Don’t I know it! What are you wearing?’ Don’t you know that pyjamas are all the rage right now? And look at your hair!’ It giggled. ‘Come now sugarplum, you’re making me look bad, and that takes some doing -’ 

    ‘Oh my God, enough!’ Francesca placed the mirror face-down upon the duvet, and happily waited out the muffled protestations. It was evidently not happy, as it had now turned quite red. ‘I’m not going to pick you up unless you behave.’ Said Francesca glancing down at it. ‘Well?’ She asked. The mirror slowly turned back to a soft pink colour again and spoke into the duvet. ‘Mmm-k.’ It grudgingly replied.

    ‘Good.’ Francesca picked up the mirror and read her uncle’s letter aloud. ‘You see my problem?’ She asked, finally. We both know that uncle Leo is continuing his travels throughout Italy as an ambassador of the Empire, and we both know Uncle Leo is definitely not a Bonapartist. In fact, she smiled to herself, he secretly worked against Napoleon’s machinations in their homeland ... but what he was on about was anyone’s guess. 

    Her eyes wandered over the typeset articles and she noticed that they were tedious descriptions of past battles, what could possibly interest her less?  She held up her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn and lay back against her great big, embroidered pillow. Skimming over the page, she read old news of the Peninsular War and how, during 1808 to 1813, the Spanish Guerillas aided by British troops under Wellington and his Portuguese allies drove the French out and eventually invaded southern France ... ‘What?’ Francesca blinked. The Specchio showed her reflection chewing on a hangnail, it turned to her. ‘That wasn’t right, dear, everyone knows Napoleon pushed Wellington out of Spain and defeated him in Oporto in what is known to be one of his most celebrated victories.’ 

   Francesca turned the page toward the candlelight and looked at the remaining articles more carefully. ‘Why, every single one of these articles describes the important military defeats of Napoleon. The final article describes the bloody battle of Waterloo as that which saw Napoleon’s remaining elite guard destroyed, and himself exiled to St Helena from where he was to never return. ‘This is absurd!’ The mirror exclaimed. ‘He didn’t lose - he won! What is this? What is your Uncle Leo doing sending us news that makes no sense?’ Francesca looked again at the page, and then picked up the first part of the letter and re-read it.