BY ELIZABETH ELLEN CARTER
The Promise of the Bells
A SWEET SHORT STORY
“It is not the promise that makes us believe the man, but the man the promise.” – Aeschylus
A sweet reframing of the story of Dick Whittington and His Cat – the English folkloric rags-to-riches tale which grew up around the real-life Richard Whittington (c. 1354–1423), a wealthy merchant who became Lord Mayor of London.
Richard Whiting, a boy from a poor family, is given a golden opportunity – to move to London to further his education.
On the way there, he is helps and is befriended by Lord Ambrose and his young daughter Catherine Swanston.
As time goes by, childhood friends Richard and Catherine become sweethearts. However, Lord Ambrose cannot consent to his offer of marriage to his daughter, believing that a young solicitor, newly called to the bar, would not have living enough to support Catherine in the manner to which she was accustomed.
In order to make his fortune, Richard is pulled into a different life, but not before, beneath the tolling bells of the churches of London, he and Catherine vow to always be there for one another.
A few years later, now an up and coming barrister, Richard learns that Catherine needs help. Her father is missing, and his Lordship’s business partner refuses to provide any information.
It will take her bravery and his legal cunning for there to be a happily ever after.
The Promise of the Bells was one of the stories in The Bluestocking Belles’ A Legend To Love series. It is available as a standalone novella and has recently been released as part of the ‘A Legend To Love Box set.
Excerpt
Catherine’s letter had come out of the blue, he hadn’t even known she’d returned home from Jamaica.
Did any of their old circle of friends know Catherine was back in London? Richard thought that somehow he ought to have known that she’d come back. Shouldn’t he?
They had been so much in love back then. Their parting tore him in two. He glanced over at the brandy decanter on the sideboard by the fireplace. It was too early for that.
Sitting on the mantelpiece was an ornament quite at odds with the understated and elegant pieces he picked up on his travels. A box of hammered silver from India; a pair of vases from Italy – they were the choices of a grown man. The object which fell to his hand now, however, was a little piece of molded porcelain, naively painted.
It was a blue and white cat sitting on a green glazed cushion. It was an inexpensive piece, a frippery really – a beloved trinket belonging to a child.
As he was, and indeed they both were, when he and Catherine first met.
How old was he? Nine-years-old? Ten?