It was impossible for Jenkins to approach the Marquis and ask for entry. He wasn't even sure if Marquis Mikhail would recognize him.
After a short wait, an unmarked carriage pulled up at the corner, almost directly behind the dessert shop. Jenkins scanned it, his Eye of Reality piercing through the carriage walls to see the Enchanter within.
"I think I have an idea."
He signaled for Audrey to wait, then donned his hat. Shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders, he pushed open the door of the dessert shop, affecting the posture of a dejected man after a disastrous date.
He walked down the cobblestone street, rounded the corner, and once again paid a few boys playing in an alley to deliver a note for him. Before long, Hathaway Hersha appeared before him. By then, Jenkins had dropped the act and returned to his usual self.
"Jenkins," she began, "I do hope that the next ti you send a note via ssenger, you'll at least specify the intended recipient."
She seed rather irritated, raising a hand as if to jab him in the chest, only to think better of it and let it fall back to her side.
"My apologies. Was there soone else in the carriage?"
"Yes, Briny was there as well. She opened the note and saw that dreadful little violin you sketched..."
The girl recounted the awkward scene with a pout, then added, "Well, this is a rare occasion. The great author, seeking out of his own accord."
It was, in fact, the first ti Jenkins had ever initiated contact with her since they'd beco acquainted.
The red-haired young woman had ant the words as a light jab, but when she saw his pensive expression, she felt a profound sense of helplessness wash over her.
"Fine, fine," she sighed. "What is it, Jenkins?"
Her expression returned to normal.
"I need to get into the Brontë Club. Can you help ?"
A look of disgust imdiately crossed the young woman's face, and she instinctively recoiled. But then she rembered who she was talking to, and her anxiety subsided.
"You couldn't possibly... I must be going mad. You're Jenkins Williams. Why on earth would you want to attend one of *those* parties?"
"What do you an?"
"It's nothing."
Hathaway's expression remained one of pure revulsion, though it clearly wasn't directed at Jenkins. "It's just... one of *those* parties. I don't think you can possibly imagine it. Disgusting n... oh, and disgusting won, too."
Jenkins let his imagination run for a mont, and the corner of his lip twitched. He understood perfectly what she was implying.
"Don't tell you understand?"
Hathaway looked surprised for a second, then her expression shifted to one of knowing resignation. "Tsk. n."
Knowing full well that Hathaway's interests lay with won, Jenkins had no desire to waste ti on the subject.
"I just saw Marquis Mikhail enter the club."
"Oh, yes. The Marquis wouldn't deign to attend such a lowbrow party, of course. The nobility has far more... creative pastis. Hmph. Briny suspects her father has found a new mistress, so we followed him to see. He's probably eting soone important in private."
"Why not hire a detective? With enough money, they'll do anything," Jenkins asked.
"It's complicated. The affairs of the Mikhail family are more dramatic than anything a court novelist could invent, and Briny doesn't want any of it getting out... In any case, you need to get inside, is that it? Well, as it happens, I have a way."
Hathaway waved a dismissive hand, then motioned for Jenkins to listen closely. She didn't pry into his reasons, and after a brief exchange, they prepared to part ways. But before she left, Hathaway warned him to keep his distance from his "man in the black robe" friend, as he was apparently responsible for yet another major incident.
The "major incident" was, of course, the night the demon was summoned. Although there was no concrete evidence linking the black-robed collector of strange artifacts to the event, the consensus was shockingly unanimous: it had to be him.
In a way, they weren't wrong.
"Are you worried about ?"
Jenkins asked suddenly, just as Hathaway was about to turn away.
She turned back, her face flushing slightly. Her eyes darted away, feigning interest in a broken steam pipe on the wall. "I just don't want to see one of my few trusted friends get hurt."
"Thank you."
He nodded. Seeing that she still hadn't left, he added, "I have few friends myself. You should be careful, too. The Gear Disease incident isn't over, and the city is still dangerous. If you run into trouble you can't handle, you can co to ."
The red-haired young woman blinked. "If I didn't know you better, I might think you were trying to court ..."
She trailed off, giving Jenkins an odd look before turning and stalking away, her shoes clicking sharply on the stones.
"How bizarre."
The man muttered to himself, then shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.
Wincing at the expense, he used another disguise charm before rejoining Audrey. They made their way to the back door where the man had vanished.
Audrey's divination confird that the man was still inside the club; he hadn't left through so secret exit.
Following Hathaway's instructions, Jenkins rapped on the door with a specific pattern: three long knocks and one short, followed by two short and two long. A mont later, the iron door creaked open a few inches, and a nacing, dark-skinned man peered out.
He sized up Jenkins and Audrey. Seeing they were well-dressed and clearly not destitute, he snatched the ten-pound note from Jenkins' hand and swung the door wide open to admit them.
The establishnt, the Brontë Club, periodically hosted so rather indecent parties. However, due to the exorbitant annual fees, few were eligible to attend. Therefore, with the mbers' consent, the club permitted a few wealthy and presentable non-mbers to join the festivities, but only by mber recomndation. The secret knock corresponded to one such official mber. Hathaway and Briny had originally planned to send soone in to investigate, but had since abandoned the idea.
Thus, the opportunity had fallen into Jenkins's lap.
The whole affair was rather awkward. Audrey had initially been reluctant to proceed, but for so reason, she had changed her mind.
After entering through the back, the burly man led them toward a party hall in the basent. Audrey shot Jenkins a aningful glance, and he let out a sudden, sharp cough. The man in the black suit startled and turned his head instinctively, only to be knocked unconscious by a single punch from Audrey.
Jenkins, lacking any professional training, did not yet possess the advanced skill of knocking a man out with a single blow.
Reviews
All reviews (0)