Chapters 1 - 3
Guttersnipe
Chapter IV - The Beautiful Life of Extravagance
“Why did I let you talk me into going to this stupid soiree?"
Archie caught the glimpse of a smile on Henry’s face. He frowned at his stilted appearance in the full-length mirror.
“You're just too soft, ol' boy. No wonder the Merciless Bastard hasn't presented you at court you'd be ripped apart in a matter of moments."
He turned towards Henry and tried to draw some courage from the man with the easy smile.
Archie was inclined to agree about the court, imagining himself lone against a battalion of Cerberus’. "Well then, explain to me why I am even going, then?"
"Because, lovely,” Henry grinned fiddling with one of the buttons on Archie's coat, "I refuse to go alone.”
Henry was right, Archie mused, I am too soft. He grimaced as he remembered the incident earlier when Henry had presented Archie with the ensemble he was now itching to get out of. He flinched as he remembered Henry’s stern face as he ordered him to get dressed. Damn.
They were in the coach now, headed towards some winter palace owned by an acquaintance of Henry’s- Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So, one in the endless list of the wealthy residents of Bethel, who in Archie’s opinion, held parties just to show of their immense wealth. It was some kind of challenge between the elite that he did not understand. And yet, again, Henry had convinced him to appear. The costume was itchy, his head ached with prophetic visions, and his palms were drenched in sweat. Henry beside him exerted confidence, as always, and seem un-affected by Archie’s fidgeting.
Before Archie could ask who Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So were this time, the carriage came to a stop.
“Ready?”
Archie sent Henry a withering glance, “I hate you.”
Henry only laughed.
The ballroom was ancient Greek in structure, marble Corinthian columns rose to meet the painted ceilings: pink cherubs dancing across a blue sky, Aphrodite cradling the golden apple; her nymphs frolicking around her their faces full of foolery. Henry nudged Archie with his elbow as they crossed the threshold.
“Welcome to the beautiful life of extravagance.”
Henry pointed out their hosts, instantly. They were an aging couple, the man was thin and wore thick glasses perched on his nose (crested by massive, bushy eyebrows), and the sides of his hair were slicked back. He was deep in conversation with another smallish man. The woman wore her white hair up, the curls cascading down the back of her neck. Her vibrant violet evening gown, which would have been popular decades back, fit snugly, and three strands of pearls attached to a shimmering pendant were centered on the top of her large bosom.
As Henry approached them, the woman squealed and embraced him. “Henry, dahling, you actually made it!”
“Never fear, Hettie dear, for where there is free food, free drink, and free merriment I shant be far away.”
“Oh, you, scoundrel.”
“And, who is this?” Mrs. Hale had turned her eyes on Archie.
“This,” Henry said with glee, “is the one and only Archibald Gant, who favours the people who call him Archie, and lives entirely too much like a hermit. I thought I‘d drag him away from his laboratory, for a spell.”
Archie fought the urge to strangle something, and bowed curtly. “Mrs. Hale, it is a pleasure.”
She squealed. “Oh, and civilized too. Where did you find him?”
“You know to be honest ma’am I haven’t a clue,” Henry beamed.
Mrs. Hale beamed, “Well now, Archie, dear, make yourself at home. You know as the natives say, ‘Mi casa es su casa.’. She then extended a vibrant, purple-gloved hand, “And don’t let Henry here monopolize the conversation, you know how his mouth can run away from him sometimes.”
“I won’t let him, ma’am,” Archie assured her.
“Good, good. Now you two enjoy yourselves.”
A serving man appeared at Mrs. Hale’s elbow with a tray of champagne.
“Oh, goody. Please,” she gestured to both Henry and Archie, and then to the tray of full champagne flutes, “have some free drink, gentlemen.”
Then, as her fingers grasp a glass, she smiled, coy.
Henry purloined a drink for himself and gestured for Archie to do the same. Carefully, and methodically as if examining a prize, he sniffed and then sipped the bubbly liquid.
“Ah,” he breathed, “fancy stuff, Hettie. Surely, you are not spoiling the best on us scoundrels?”
Archie, attempting to hide behind his own drink, agreed, it was high class champagne the Hale’s’ were serving. He took another sip, and then another, letting the smooth liquid slip down and settle in his belly. At last, he was beginning to relax, and his nerves were settling. Archie almost smiled; anything that calmed his nerves this quickly had to be expensive. But, he was still on edge. He wondered if Henry actually expected him to say anything.
“Good God, Henry, you have seen Everett’s labyrinth of a cellar. We have enough of this fancy stuff, as you call it, to sink a whole squadron of battleships, not to mention their Captains.” She smirked, and toasted them.
Henry nodded his head in ascent, and Archie watched quietly as she flirted back. She was a very engaging woman, and he wondered why he had not met the Hale’s before. But, then, he had never been one for socializing.
Archie even managed to contribute to the conversation as Henry and Mrs. Hale talked about
As soon as another guest distracted Mrs. Hale, Archie glared at Henry, who seemed oblivious to his ire. The champagne may be good, but the party was another monster to cower from.
When he got close enough, Archie leaned in and muttered, “I hate you.”
Henry only laughed.
Archie was introduced by Henry to a few more of the guests, before they were buttonholed by an aging Captain Junah whose dress was impeccable, and proceeded to speak at length about some passed battle he had been in, in said battle he had commanded a 76 gun Ship of the Line: the Arabella. Before long, Henry was apprehended by a Mr. Rowle to discuss some governmental maters, of which Archie had even less interest in. After he managed to extricate himself from Captain Junah, Archie retreated to a corner of the ballroom, out of sight from most of the guests. Henry had cajoled him into coming, but that didn’t mean he had to be friendly about it.
More guests flittered in and out of the ballroom, and Archie did not venture from his corner, even when the dancing started. After the first four sets, Henry appeared in his vision with a tall, curvy redhead on his arm. Her dress was in the latest fashion; she wore all white ensemble, low cut, with ruffles and a large beryl flower in the center of the neckline. She nodded her head at something Henry said, before walking off. Henry, now void of company, scanned the room. Then he focused on Archie, and since he was in a corner there was no plausible way out.
“Come, Archie,” Henry frowned, “I wont have you standing about by yourself in this foolish manner. There is many a maid without a partner.”
Archie sent Henry a scathing look, “When I come to woo ladies, I fright them.” Archie paused, “Besides, you are dancing with the prettiest girl here.”
“Now, there you see is your fallible logical at its best, and fear not ol’ boy, your pretty words won’t deter me from my mission. At least let me introduce you to some one, I swear she won’t bite… hard.”
As Henry herded him away from his haven, Archie caught sight of the same redhead he had seen with Henry was there with another woman. As they approached Archie grew nervous, and fought to keep his hands from messing in his hair. The other young woman was short with a figure that made men, unfortunately for her, think of their mothers. Despite having plain features her hair was a rich, deep brown intermeshed with mahogany highlights. It was long and curly, and she wore it down, the top half brought up away from her face with a blue ribbon that matched her dress.
Henry was the first to speak. “Alice, Miss Banvard.”
“Henry- I mean Lord Roseden, what a surprise!” The brunette exclaimed showing off the dimples in her freckled cheeks.
“Please don’t flatter him, Adele, he needs no encouragement especially from you,” Alice -the redhead- remarked.
Adele ignored the comment, and turned to Archie, “And you sir, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Archibald Gant, Miss.” Archie’s arms felt curiously stiff at his sides.
Before anyone could reply, Henry cut in, “While you two children are getting to know each other, Miss Borland, may I have this dance?”
Although Alice‘s lips twitched with the hint of a smile, her comment was terse, “If you call me Miss Borland again, I may have to smite you, severely.”
As Henry departed, Archie itched to flee, and compromised by tangling his figures in his coat seam. The young woman at his side did not seem to notice this. Archie not wanting to seem arrogant, or aloof, so he made the best of the situation.
“Miss Banvard was it?”
Her eyes lit up as he addressed her, “Yes, but please everyone calls me Adele.”
“Under one condition, you call me Archie.”
“Of course… Archie.” She answered softly.
Archie could not help but smile.
“So tell me, how do you know Henry?” Archie asked. He was most interested in how Henry knew her.
“Alice introduced us a few summers ago when I was first in Bethel - Aunt Geraldine insisted on having a welcoming soiree for me, and Alice designed the dress.”
“I did not know Ms. Borland was a dress maker.” So, that is how Henry knows her.
“Oh yes, after her husband Leigh died she took over the business - she fought tooth and nail for it. I’m surprised you have not heard of her before, she is the first most dressmaker in Bethel, and Henry’s cousin, after all.” She eyed Archie for a few moments. “What do you do, Archie?”
Cousin? That explained things even more.
“I’m a, I’m a printer; Temple Press. It is rather dull, I work the machine, set the blocks, order the engravings, set the press…”
“Oh, how fascinating - Do you have a favorite book to make?”
“Hmm, that is tricky, probably William Blake’s Book of Thel; the intricacy of Blake’s carvings are fantastical. Each of the blocks has to be hard carved.”
She nodded in ascension. “And for pleasure?”
“Well, I am sunk Madam, a tie between Shakespeare and Wordsworth will have to do. You?”
“Jane Austen.” Her eyes narrowed, “Oh, don’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing.” Archie fought to keep a straight face.
“Yes, you are.”
“No… I… uh…” Damn, how did one talk to women without making an ass of yourself?
He felt his hands getting clammy, and her heart was pounding in his chest. His throat felt like an invisible hand had gripped it harshly. The gong of the dinner bell spared him.
He tried to smile, and failed, while he offered his hand. He had a feeling she would decline his offer. “May I escort you, Milady?”
Instead, she canted her head towards him. “Certainly, Sir.”
Unfortunately, when they arrived in the dining room Adele and Archie were ushered to opposite ends of the table. Henry was near though, and was holding out the chair for the lady besides him. As Archie adjusted his chair, Captain Junah bumbled in taking the seat at the end of the table, nearest Archie.
Archie inwardly groaned.
Their host, Mr. Hale, tapped the side of his raised glass, “Ladies. Gentlemen.”
On cue, glasses were raised.
“I shall start this off with a short toast - To the Empire,” Mr. Hale spoke.
A chorus of voices rose up in reply, “To the Empire.”
On cue, as soon as the hosts were seated, servants filed in with the nights dinner. Archie was glad that the food had come, as it gave him an excuse for not speaking with any of the guests. Archie tried his best to ignore Captain Junah on his right, and he sipped at the soup.
“An exquisite musicale was performed at the Theatre Royal last Saturday, Henry, I did wonder why I did not see you there, cavorting around.” The Captain spoke as he attacked a piece of bread.
Henry looked up from his dinner, “I have no ear for music, sir; you well know that.”
Archie smirked: No ear for music, my arse…
The Captain grumbled, “Pity, then, Henry, for it is the theater is the best place to be seen, moreover seen with the right people. Of course the music was enjoyable, as it should be.” He dabbed at his lips with his napkin. “I often enjoy the merriment and fantasy of the theatre, after all a man of status has a duty to support the arts.”
Archie was itching to speak, his mind bolstered by the fine drink and Henry’s presence. He put his spoon down, and spoke. “Sir, in my humble opinion, there is no man so small, so base that he is not better for music or beauty, that he is not bettered by art.”
The man scrunched his face and shook his head at what he clearly perceived as impudence. “Really, lad, what good is music if the audience is deaf. There is only reason these artisans exist and it is to do diligence to the rich and powerful. If every man were so base who would commission the paintings, the theater, the music, the art? They are at our beck and call, a means to an end. We, those in power, I assure you, hold the purse strings; a man cannot dine on Utopia alone, he must feed himself and his family on more than just idealism. Those who are not so comfortable have needs, after all if we did not support them, they would undoubtedly find work elsewhere, and thus the institution they call the arts would be extinct, most probably, non-existent, it would be nothing.”
Henry winked at Archie. “If all we are is money, sir, then, I fear for the human race. With everything you have done, Captain, I challenge you to produce something that will be remembered long after you are dead and buried in your grave.”
Blotches of red blossomed on Junah’s face, “I will have something better than any piece of art to leave behind, as Lord Captain Adolphus Junah I shall be remembered in the history books far longer than any dilettante.”
Henry was covering up his laughter with a coughing fit, while Archie kept his amusement very much on the inside.
“Oh, my dear Captain,” came Mrs. Hale voice from down the table, “are you trying to turn Henry from his wicked ways? It is a lost cause, sir, I must insist, we’ve been trying for years.”
Archie gulped down more of the wine to keep from making a fool of himself. Turning away from Junah and Henry to save himself from embarrassment, Archie looked down the table at the other guests. And, there she was, cutting up the chicken, taking small bites, and ignoring the elderly gentleman that was chattering at her.
Every so often she would rest her fork, and sigh, then brush some tendrils of her hair back. Archie thought she would look his way each time, and his heart would flutter with anticipation. He was confused and fascinated by Miss Adele Banvard. She was not the beauty of the current trend, willowy and stick thin; there was a spark in her eyes that most the young ladies either fought to hide or never had to begin with – intelligence, a substance that lighted her whole face. Looking at her seemed to chase all the thoughts from his mind for moments at a time, and he had this odd urge to foolishly quote poetry; an act, which, he grimaced, had infamously drowned him in the past.
Finally, she did, look his way, and he smiled, rather idiotically, but before she turned back to her meal, he saw the faint blush that had crept into her cheeks. It made him think: maybe coming with Henry had not been a horrid plan after all.
When dinner was over, Mr. Hale called the men to retire to the salon for some brandy and cigars. Archie declined, even under the insistent glare from Henry. Instead, he walked back into the main ballroom, where the ladies had gathered, and approached Adele Banvard.
“Ladies.” He bowed slightly to the small group. “Miss Banvard, would you care for a turn in the gardens?” Archie fought against his marauding fingers and kept them out of his hair, as he nervously awaited her response.
She was staring at him, as if to judge his intensions.
Alice Borland nudged her, “Go on, Adele. We will be just fine without you.”
Adele Banvard’s mouth dropped slightly at Alice’s remark, but quickly recovered.
“Well, I suppose. Yes.”
Archie led Adele out into the garden, her hand was warm upon his arm, and he knew he was smiling that idiotic smile, again. He was not even concerned about not offering up any small talk.
She sighed, and he turned to look towards her, as she spoke. “This is nice.”
“And it is made more splendid by your lovely company, Miss Banvard.”
She mumbled something under her breath that Archie could not quite make out.
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
She stopped, and her lips curved downward. “No. Not at all. I uh… I am not accustomed to receiving compliments that is all.”
“I do not understand.” Archie was shaking his head now. “I thought ladies preferred to be flattered, sorry, I must have received the wrong memorandum.”
She pressed her lips together. “I meant I…” she licked her lips, “I am not pretty, sir.”
Archie was sure his brain had stopped, for a moment, at least. He stood there looking at this lovely, spirited woman who liked Jane Austen, of all authors, and he could not think of a word to say. Or rather, he could, he just could not figure out how to voice it. No, that word was pure gut reaction. He wanted to blurt it, but was sure doing so would be much too forceful. Well, he could see why some men would overlook her, but that was no reason not to be courteous. He looked back to Adele; she was staring off into the darkened garden of rose bushes.
“Well,” Archie swallowed, “I don’t think that.”
She twisted towards him, her eyes narrowed.
The silence was pressing upon his like a vice. “I, I am sorry for all the words never said…”
She was staring at him now, a confused expression on her face. He felt his lips stretching into a smile.
“… My sex can be fairly dense and rather mercenary it seems.”
She dipped her head and smiled at that, it made his heart flutter for a moment, and then she pushed some hair back behind an ear, in what seemed like common practice.
“That is rather astute of you, Mr. Gant.”
He chuckled. Maybe the alcohol finally taking effect, or perhaps it was her presense, but he was actually at ease, enjoying himself. “It’s Archie, remember.”
“Archie, right…”
She looked up at him, then, and it did not feel odd when he raised his hands to her face, nor did it feel odd when he pulled her close. Nor did it feel odd as he bent his head towards hers, breath against lips, warmth against warmth. Her lips did look rather inviting, when he thought about it…
Then, he sneezed.
Adele jerked back, her mouth agape, an expression of disbelief on her face. Archie blinked at her, she looked stunned and mortified. Oh, gods, in the middle of a romantic moment, you actually sneezed on the poor girl. This is will give her favorable impression of you, you great git. Way to make a fool of yourself, again.
“I, oh, Adele, I am so sorry…” he stammered, “this, well, I…”
Her eyes were wide and wet.
Oh, now that’s fantastic, you mutilated this just spectacularly, not to mention You’ve Made Her Cry.
Her shoulders had started to tremble and she started to shake, Archie was berating himself still. Then, to Archie’s bewilderment she laughed. She gripped Archie’s arm to steady herself as she bent over, tears were streaming down her face.
“Oh… my… word,” Adele gasped, wiping the tears from her face.
He blinked at her, and frowned. But, then, the absurdity of the whole situation penetrated. He started to chuckle, and the laughter just bubbled out of him.
Archie could not remember a time he had laughed harder, and looking at her he had a very strange thought.
“I. Think. I. Could. Fall. For. You…” Archie struggled with speech, as he tugged her even closer.
The laughter had stopped now, and Archie smiled to Adele.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?”
She smirked at him. “I’ll say…”
Archie bent to kiss her most inviting lips. As he broke their first kiss, Archie murmured against her lips, “Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates all that is won and lost: give me a kiss; even this repays me.”
***
Regan paused as she entered Mr. Raines’ pawnshop. It was a crowded place with many odds and ends, knickknacks and such, stacked and stashed everywhere. Regan had to skillfully manoeuver her way through, so to not knock things over. She passed rusted scabbards, tattered books, outdated china, and fake gold-leaf jewelry. In the very back of the narrow shop, she found a shadow of a man, peering through a glass at some minuscule item. After a few minutes of waiting with no response from the man, Regan cleared her throat loudly, the man, startled, jumped.
“Can I help you?” His raspy voice grated.
Without preliminaries Regan fished out the items she wished to pawn and dropped them onto the table. “How much for these?”
Like a mouse inspecting fine cheese, the man perused the handkerchief, the cravat, the date-book, and the wallet.
“Hm… eight shilling for the lot.”
“Eight shilling?” Regan started to reach for the things. “Hardly, eight? This,” she picked up the purple cravat, “This, could fetch at least ten shilling on its own.”
The man frowned severely, but seemed to consider her and the merchandise with his beady little eyes and blunt, plump fingers.
Regan shifted from one foot to the other, impatient and eager for the man to make his decision. She was in an unfamiliar part of town and did not fancy staying any longer than she absolutely had to.
“Well, now, Missus, I’ll give you three sovereigns for the lot, I don’t reckon you’ll find a better offer.” He shifted his eyes from her to the items and back again.
“I’ll take it.”
The man counted out the coins for her.
Regan took her leave, oblivious to the eyes that watched on.
***
Archie hopped lightly from one foot to the other, bright smile igniting his face. He and Henry were just down the street from the Hale’s.
He looked upwards and spoke out into the night, “Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air: and, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”
“So, tell me, did you actually manage to have some fun?” Henry asked when Archie had finished, and then smirked at him as Archie bowed gracefully.
“Yes,” Archie said, a smile still plastered to his face.
Henry nudged him conspiratorially. “I told you so. Come on, walk with me, my club is near. How would you like to work on your conversation skills a bit more.”
Archie looked at Henry quizzically. “Do I have any say in this new development?”
Henry just grinned.
Archie shook his head and muttered, “Why do I even ask?”
As Archie followed Henry away from the Hale’s and towards this Gentleman’s Club, he felt this warm glow of happiness surround him, thoughts of Adele had him smile in which he supposed was a lazy, loony manner, but he didn’t care.
Just as they rounded a street corner, Archie spotted a figure coming towards them, though it seemed to be more in the shadows than not. As the person approached, Archie realized it was the woman from the shop, Miss Ware, if his memory was anything to go on. She looked up, and he saw realization catch fire; it was too late to cross the street and pretend they were strangers. Soon they were near enough.
Henry nodded his head and touched his hat in a sort of bow. “Ms. Ware.”
“Hullo.” She tipped her head towards Henry.
“Well, Ms. Ware, I’m sure we will meet again, but for now I must bid adieu.”
Archie twisted towards Henry, frantic. He was confused, hadn’t Henry offered to introduce him at his club. Why was he leaving him, then?
But, Henry just winked at Archie and sauntered away, before he could get his brain to work.
Archie turned to Regan then unsure of what to say. “Shall we walk together, Miss Ware?”
“I suppose…” She went quiet for a moment, before speaking again, “Actually, it seems I am very, very lost.”
“Oh, okay. Where are you headed then?”
“Mulberry House.”
“Mulberry House, really?”
“Yes.”
“Er, it seems that we are headed in the same direction, Miss Ware. I live just a few streets over.”
She didn’t reply, and they continued on in silence.
Archie could feel the frustration, and with the frustration the pressure starting at the base of his skull. He affirmed his earlier conclusion about Regan Ware: she was certainly a strange person.
“What brought you to this part of town?”
“Had some business,” she murmured, before, “I thought you’d be going after Roseden, I suppose I should thank you, really. I really wish you wouldn’t call me Miss though, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
Before Archie could respond, a man in a ragged coat stalked out of one of the alleyways up ahead, and demanded his attention, it was something about the way he carried himself, hands buried within his coat. He turned to Regan and found she too was staring at the man. She watched her stiffen and the man got closer. He found himself herder by Regan’s steps as she started away from the man. He felt a tingling sensation creeping up the back of his neck, a sensation that always seemed to herald some kind of danger. But, the man countered each of Regan’s moves, as soon they found toe to toe with the stranger. Archie tried to snatch the man’s concentration, but he seemed to be exclusively interested in Regan. Looking down the length of the man, to assess the situation, Archie saw the knife.
Then he did the only thing he seemed able to do, he shifted himself between Regan and the stranger, and spoke. “I suggest you keep moving, sir.”
The stranger leered at him, showing off crooked, decaying teeth. “I don’t take kindly to suggestions, mister.”
Archie looked from the man, the blade of the knife bright like it had just been cleaned, to Regan, who was standing there her eyes narrowed. She attention was fixed on the knife.
He caught Regan’s attention and hopped his expression was void of the fear that had started to creep up into his brain like a maggot, eating away at his previous sense of annoyance and even the happiness in the wake of Adele and that kiss was being devoured.
“Go on, Regan.” He twisted towards the man, hoping he made a foreboding enough appearance, “You have no business here.”
“Oh, now, don’t listen to him ma’am, he don’t know what he’s talking about.”
As soon as the words were out of the man’s mouth, he thrust the knife forward as if to ward off Archie and reached to grab Regan. Archie spun, and in attempted to regain his balance knocked into the man toppling them both to the ground. Archie smacked into the cold cobblestones, his arms outstretched to stop his fall. He scrambled upwards, his fingers digging into the sharp stones, winded, trying to force breath back in his body; his chest ache as if someone had smashed into it with a plank of wood. He saw the man was scrambling too. But where was Regan? When he finally got to his feet, she was gone. The man scowled at Archie, but before he could do anything else scampered off the way he and Regan had come.
Adjusting his clothing, Archie sighed, he hoped Henry wouldn’t mind his clothing returned in a less than perfect condition. Rubbing his still aching chest, he searched the street again, still no Regan. Well, he breathed deeply, at least she had some sense to run.
Archie continued his way home hoping that Regan had found her way without too much trouble. He was convinced that the stranger was a thief, maybe he had been following Regan, and seen something worth stealing—the knife gleamed malevolently in his mind—seen something worth killing, or at least hurting someone for.
As he turned the corner onto another street, two hands whipped out of the darkness, one smothered his half-open mouth, the other jerked him backwards. Suddenly there was a voice, the warmth of someone breathing against his ear. It smelled of black licorice.
“He’s still here. I saw him double back.”
Archie jerked at the familiar voice. “Miss Ware—Regan, is that you?” He twisted in the strong grasp.
“Yes. Now stop wriggling and keep quiet,” she hissed.
It was indeed Regan; she let him go a few moments later, but brought a finger to her lips in a motion to keep him quiet. He nodded to her and slumped against the wall. It seemed, though in the darkness Archie could not tell definition exactly, that they were under some sort of scaffolding, that had been built up beside a building or a church, he couldn’t quite remember if Saint Agnes’ was here or on the other end of the boulevard.
Not a moment later, a figure passed under the street lamp on the opposite corner. It was the man. The knife was nowhere to be seen and though Archie though, his hands looked suspicious, stuffed into his coat the way they were. He would bet his next month’s salary that at least on of those hands was clutching the knife.
The man passed them by, though, without note, and prowled down the road. Archie let out the breath he had been holding, and turned to Regan to speak. But, before he did the rustling of something overhead caused him to pause. He looked up. Two pairs of eyes were blinking back.
“Miss Regan, up here. It’s Ari, remember me.”
The voice was high-pitched but distinctly male, like a child’s voice, but Archie could not make out the body it belonged to.
He looked to Regan; the edges of her lips were twitching like she wanted to smile but was repressing the urge to. “How could I forget a disturbing, little urchin like yourself? What in hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed, sleeping or some such nonsense?”
Archie thought he saw movement, like a shrug of little shoulders in the darkness. “Momma doesn’t know I scrambled out the window, Ephraim didn’t wanna come, too chicken. He won’t tell; he’s just chicken.”
“How exciting.”
“You won’t tell my momma, then, will you Miss Regan?”
Regan pursed her lips, “No. You never answer a question straight do you, you little heathen? Oh, never mind that…”
There was no answer, and Archie thought he heard more rustling again, maybe the boy was leaving and then—
“Quick,” the boy’s voice was hushed, “Miss Regan, you are the Nice Mister need to get up here faster than fast, that scary man is coming back.”
In seconds, Regan had reached upwards grabbed onto the scaffolding and lifted herself up into the darkness. There was more rustling, what was it that was making that noise, newspapers? Without warning hands grabbed at his shoulders.
“God damn, Gant give me your hands!”
The hands were off his shoulders now and stretched out in front of his face, he reached up and grasped them. With a jolt he was lifted up. His right hand was guided to some kind of pole and he grasped at it and managed to haul himself the rest of the way. At last, his other hand was let free. Blinking owlishly, he could make out Regan and a small boy sitting on some sort of platform that had been lashed to the scaffold.
Regan eased herself down next to the boy and padded the place next to her.
“Come on and sit. No doubt that fool will be searching the street awhile. He seemed pretty bent on me.” The light was a little better here and he carefully crossed to sit down next to her.
When she spoke again he could see her smirking, “Well, this certainly is the last time I let you take me home.”
Endnotes
1. Both things that Archie quotes, the first after he kisses Adele for the first time is from Antony & Cleopatra by William Shakespeare, the second as he is leaving the Hale's with Henry is from The Tempest by William Shakespeare.
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