The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (4 page)

Daisy’s eyes widened, she had not a clue as to what the gentleman was talking about but she could certainly bring him more gin. After all, most who came in here were looking for something, and gin usually provided it. Who knows? She shrugged, maybe there
were
haunts flying about the ceiling, at least she did not have to serve them too.

The house was filling quickly with its normal complement of patrons. Jerard could smell the soot and dirt and grease of the great unwashed mass that descended to join his private hell. He normally heard the factory’s whistle that signaled the arrival of this noisy lot but today he had completely missed it, “Damned memories,” he muttered. He placed his back against the wall and put his booted feet up on bench to prevent any from sitting too close. He needn’t have bothered, the regulars had grown used to the ‘gentleman’ who sat in the corner and kept to himself. In fact they were quite happy to leave him to it and carry on in their own ways of forgetting.

It took Jerard a moment or two to become aware of the stranger that had entered the squalid gin house. He was so out of place as to appear comical. It was obvious that the man was trying desperately to avoid contact with the bar’s other patrons. And yet he scanned the crowd with determination and purpose. Unfortunately it seemed that the man’s purpose might be him. Dear god, Jerard thought, he looks like either a solicitor or an undertaker, all dressed in black with his beaver-hair top hat. Jerard sighed as he realized that indeed this little raven was making his way toward Jerard’s table. What now, he thought
,
haven’t I been through enough?

“Mister Jerard Phillips?” The dour little man inquired politely.

“Maybe, Sir. However, I am neither dead nor in need of a solicitor; be gone man before you contract a disease.”

Jerard nearly laughed out loud at the black clad man’s reaction to his words. If possible he shrank even tighter into his fine wool coat and he paled as if he had looked into the eyes of the plague itself. Jerard watched as the man’s emotions played across his face and for the briefest moment Jerard had to admit, the fellow
had
courage.

“May I sit Sir? I have several things to discuss with you that I believe you will find of great benefit.”

“Really?” Jerard said, not bothering to keep the amusement and bitter sarcasm out of his voice. “So you are prepared to buy a round of drinks? You know, share a cup with your newest
old
friend?” Watching the little raven, it was obvious that his barb had struck some kind of mark. Although the quiet realization that the man would rather do anything than have a drink with me echoed at the back of his mind. Oh how the mighty have fallen, he mourned.

“Ah, well…yes of course. I feel that a spot of refreshment might be just the thing right now.” The man drew himself up, “My name is Lovelace Sir, William Bennett Lovelace, at your service.”

The little man bowed and preened so much that Jerard could not help himself; an unfriendly laugh escaped. “Mr. Lovelace, I sincerely doubt that you have been at anyone’s service save your own since you became a solicitor or would that be undertaker? I am still not clear on this point.” Phillips sighed. “Go on man, sit down if you dare and have a drink with me.”

Lovelace stood sputtering at the coarse rudeness of this blackguard before braving the rough wooden bench. “Now Mr. Phillips, I want…”

“I care not what you want Mr. Lovelace, at least not until you have drunk with me. Hold a moment in your obviously rehearsed diatribe while I order a fresh round.” Jerard caught Daisy’s eye and signaled for two gins before turning back to coldly study the man sitting across the table from him.

It was obvious that Lovelace was of the over-bread London minor nobility, the weak chin, watery eyes, beak of a nose and pasty skin clearly marked him so. Jerard immediately hated him all the more for it. Paper pushers had become the very bane of Jerard’s existence and he decided that to play with this puppet might be amusing. After all, weren’t we all just puppets, playthings of authority? He turned his head and, in a most un-gentlemanly gesture, spat on the floor in disgust.

Daisy deposited the mugs on the table and looked expectantly at Lovelace. Oh good girl! Jerard silently applauded and managed a wink at her when Lovelace finally realized what she was waiting for. Nonplussed, Lovelace fished a shilling out of his pocket and dropped it into the waiting girl’s hand. Daisy returned Jerard’s wink and flounced off.

“Bottom’s up my new, old, friend!” Jerard declared as he toasted Lovelace and downed the brew in one swift motion; his hazel eyes never leaving the finicky solicitor/undertaker sitting across from him.

Recognizing the challenge, Lovelace picked up the mug and attempted to imitate Jerard’s gesture but instead wound up sputtering and coughing and nearly spilling the awful contents of the mug. It was obvious to Jerard that all of Lovelace’s training had not prepared him for the Piston’s unholy gin.

Lovelace narrowed his eyes and regained his determined expression. “Now then Mr. Phillips,” Lovelace’s voice was strong despite the beating his throat had taken. “I bring to you a proposition.”

“Really now?” Jerard rudely interrupted.

“Yes really Sir, if you would just take a moment to listen I believe that this will benefit you greatly.”

“And why, Mr. Lovelace, should I listen to you? And furthermore why should I care? I only have your word that this would benefit me, it’s more the like that it will benefit
you
. You still have not made clear as to whether or not you are a solicitor or an undertaker or something far more nefarious. I must warn you now that I am not my father’s heir and therefore I have no money to invest in any scheme, additionally I am not about to die and I am NOT a criminal, I may be a bit down on my luck at the moment but that does not mean that I am willing to stoop to base perfidy.”

Lovelace leaped to his feet. “Now see here Sirrah! You go too far! I am William Bennett Lovelace of Lovelace, Binder and Morcombe, London Solicitors. I would
never
have thought to attend
this
establishment seeking investors much less involve
my
valued clients in “schemes”. And Sirrah, I know of
your
past. I can only surmise that
your
lack of recognition of my name and the name of my firm is the result of
your
being far too occupied with being cashiered out of Her Majesty’s service. You don’t seem to be able to notice anything aside from yourself and your own ‘above board’ behavior!”

This last was said quite loudly and with so much acid that heads turned from several tables over to stare at the two men. In fact the entire room had grown quite quiet; so much so that a little snap could be heard when Lovelace whipped out a white card from the breast pocket of his coat.

“My card Sir, should you ever gain the status of a reasonable man!” The solicitor flung the card at Phillips and turned on his heel. The crowd parted quietly to let the enraged man through.

Jerard broke the silence and the stares by lifting the gin mug to his lips. He listened carefully as the conversation volume slowly rose from whispers to outright laughter and gossip. So glad that I have amused you he thought bitterly.

“Sir?” Daisy inquired tentatively waving Lovelace’s card.

“Yes?”

“Well Sir, this is a nice bit of card here. I was wondering, if you’d not be wanting it, could I have it? I’ve not seen anything so fancy in me life! All black and gold it is.”

Jerard rescued the card from Daisy’s dirty hand before the girl could drool on it. “Let’s have a look at it before I say yes or no.” He replied kindly. Jerard looked at the card, and raised an elegant eyebrow. The girl was right it was a nice card; printed on the finest linen in crisp black ink, the firm’s name picked out in gold. Jerard felt the color drain from his face as he read the name of the solicitor’s firm over and over again: Lovelace, Binder &
Morcombe.

John Morcombe was his father’s oldest and dearest friend, not to mention the family’s solicitor. Jerard rubbed his hand over his face several times and tried to recall exactly what the little raven had said. It was something about benefiting me greatly, and yet the man seemed to know the sordid details about his dishonorable dismissal from Her Majesty’s Service. Oh dear god! This was probably a summons from his father. He had carefully avoided seeing the old man since he left the Service. Mostly because he was embarrassed and ashamed of the black mark he had brought on his family’s name. This must be serious if his father sent the solicitors to find him. What if something had happened to his father? Or his mother?

“Sir?” Daisy inquired softly as she tentatively held out her hand for the card.

“Damn, damn and thrice damn!” Jerard exploded. He jumped to his feet and shoved the card into Daisy’s hand. “I have to go, I will return to settle my bill. I’ve got to find out what that man had to say and I’ve got to apologize! On my honor or what is now left of it I hope I can fix this!” Jerard shoved his way to the door, leaving a confused Daisy gaping at his back.

The street outside was empty and the rain seemed to have abated for the moment. Jerard took off at a run down the street. He knew he could find a hansom three blocks over, he only hoped he could arrive at the offices of Lovelace, Binder and Morcombe in time to repair this disaster. You idiot, he berated himself, it is not enough you embarrass yourself, now you’ve gone and blackened your family’s name again! Oh god, please let my family be well, I can deal with anything but that.

By the time Gopal had the carriage brought around it had finally stopped raining. Tash noted that Gopal had changed his jacket and she wondered for the first time if she should have changed as well. Fortunately the serviceable dove gray wool did not wrinkle much, even after an entire morning of sitting and the matching hat was already to hand. She did stop for a peek in the hall mirror to be sure the ribbons were tied straight and to tuck up a stray lock of dark auburn hair. Tash had never been much for fashion and was used to relying heavily on her friends Millie and Constance to keep her wardrobe in line. Despite the distress her friend must be under at the moment Tash could picture her dear friends admonishing her for leaving the house in the afternoon in a “morning” dress. Millie! Dear god! I am coming and we will fix this! Tash mentally straightened her resolve much like she straightened her hat ribbons.

“Gopal, we are going to Lovelace’s office first and then we shall proceed to the hangar on the Isle of Dogs and tell the crew to make ready. We depart for Scotland tomorrow morning. If Lovelace does not have a captain for us I will have to rely on Beardmore & Co, they have never let us down before. I feel certain that they will have someone we can at least borrow.”

Gopal held the door for Tash and nodded in acknowledgement. He handed her into the carriage and paused to inform the driver of their destination before joining her inside the luxuriously appointed cab.

Tash waited for the vehicle to begin moving before she spoke. “So, I know you heard all that Lord Mansfield had to say. What are your thoughts?”

“You have gone off without your cloak again madam.”

“What?” Tash was yanked out of the mass of lists and plans she was busily forming in her head. She turned to Gopal and focused on him for the first time since Mansfield had left.

Gopal smiled. “You have forgotten your rain cloak Tash, I sincerely doubt that the rain has ceased for the evening.”

Tash rolled her eyes. “Alright, I shall calm down, I suppose what you are trying to say is that if I have forgotten my cloak what else have I forgotten?”

“That is precisely correct. Tash, you used the term “we” shall I remind you that Lord Mansfield demanded your presence in his office tomorrow morning? It sounds to me like you are planning on being in attendance on this expedition.” Gopal offered up a slight smile before continuing.

“As for my thoughts, I found Lord Mansfield’s behavior deplorable, he did not so much as ask for your and Mr. Starblower’s assistance as he demanded it. The very notion that an airship, worth thousands of pounds, be turned over to a complete stranger “to be used as he saw fit” is completely outrageous. However I understand that you were not in a position to refuse nor would you have as it sounds as if Dr. Nordstrom may well be in danger.”

Tash fidgeted and opened her mouth to speak but Gopal held up his hand. “Another point of consideration here is that Lord Mansfield seemed intent on contacting Mr. Starblower and I am afraid that he will not give up until he speaks to our honored gentleman; despite the fact that Mr. Starblower is completely unreachable at the moment. How are you going to get out of this one?”

“I am not going to “get out” of it Gopal. I will be on board the Soul of Discretion as Mr. Starblower’s mouthpiece. It will not be the first time I have acted as such. I plan to send a man from Lovelace to Lord Mansfield’s office and tell him exactly that. If he can’t understand then, tomorrow after we depart will be a little too late to stop me!” Tash grinned, “Besides when I tell William the story, I am betting that he will enjoy going himself to meet with Lord Mansfield.”

“Perhaps, Tash, perhaps.” Gopal sighed. “I rather thought you would do something like this, I left instructions with Mrs. Hoskins to pack your trunk and let her know that we are not sure of our return date. She is to forward all inquiries for yourself or Mr. Starblower to Tumbledown House in Scotland. That should delay anything “urgent” for a few days at least. It will also put her in doubt that we will be returning to London anytime soon.”

“Excellent! Oh Gopal, what would I do without you?”

“Honestly Tash? I do not know. Now, you
are
going to tell Mr. Lovelace all of the details? It would be a good idea for someone to know where we are.”

“Yes of course, you’re right.” Tash muttered. But Gopal had already lost Tash to her lists and plans. With a small smile Gopal settled back to work on his own list of things that needed to be done.