Strange sets down his hand as well. He also has two matching suits, so it's a loss for him—not that he cares about the game anymore. The young elfin man sitting next to Strange who laid down four of the angels won that round. Chattering, the rest of the players pass their cards back to Childermass while Strange grapples with this revelation.
Arabella was in Faerie. The thing that he buried, it must be a changeling or something of that sort because she was alive. She was alive and here he was, wasting his time at the Carnival and playing card games instead of going out and freeing her from whoever put her there in the first place. How long had she been there and what sort of a husband could he call himself if he left her for that long? He's so lost in thought and regret that he almost misses that last important bit of information Childermass let slip. Him and Norrell? When had Norrell sought the help of faeries? Certainly not during any of his tenure as the man's student, he was far too dead set against the idea. No, the only person who had stirred up nonsense about faeries was himself—well, and Lady Pole, he supposed, with those stories she told Arabella to tell him.
The pieces all slowly start dropping into place. The faerie stories that Lady Pole felt so important that he know, perhaps it wasn't a sign of madness but a sign of magic. After all, he knew madness, he had been mad himself, madness wasn't babbling about faerie stories, launching into tales of tiny men waging war against carpets, it was something much more than that. And now that he was able to look back at her ramblings with the knowledge of what madness was...perhaps she wasn't mad at all.
"Childermass," Strange asks in a worryingly calm tone, "what sort of faerie nonsense has Norrell stirred up?" Cause oh he's got an idea. But it would be nice to have some confirmation before he flies off the handle.
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Arabella was in Faerie. The thing that he buried, it must be a changeling or something of that sort because she was alive. She was alive and here he was, wasting his time at the Carnival and playing card games instead of going out and freeing her from whoever put her there in the first place. How long had she been there and what sort of a husband could he call himself if he left her for that long? He's so lost in thought and regret that he almost misses that last important bit of information Childermass let slip. Him and Norrell? When had Norrell sought the help of faeries? Certainly not during any of his tenure as the man's student, he was far too dead set against the idea. No, the only person who had stirred up nonsense about faeries was himself—well, and Lady Pole, he supposed, with those stories she told Arabella to tell him.
The pieces all slowly start dropping into place. The faerie stories that Lady Pole felt so important that he know, perhaps it wasn't a sign of madness but a sign of magic. After all, he knew madness, he had been mad himself, madness wasn't babbling about faerie stories, launching into tales of tiny men waging war against carpets, it was something much more than that. And now that he was able to look back at her ramblings with the knowledge of what madness was...perhaps she wasn't mad at all.
"Childermass," Strange asks in a worryingly calm tone, "what sort of faerie nonsense has Norrell stirred up?" Cause oh he's got an idea. But it would be nice to have some confirmation before he flies off the handle.