☆ Round One!

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Fill: What the Master Doesn't Know (6/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Hanover Square was in need of a housekeeper again, no thanks to Lascelles for convincing Mr. Norrell that such a presence was obviously needed in any respectable household.

Once 'respectability' had been mentioned, Mr. Norrell was - of course - easily persuaded.

"Why do we not have a housekeeper?" he asked Childermass that evening after dinner.

"Oh, we manage fine without," Childermass answered in his casual, offhand fashion while busy at his desk.

"That may be, but every respectable gentleman has a housekeeper. Did we not have one, once upon a time?"

"Five months ago," Childermass answered. "A Mrs. Ridgiton. She gave notice after three months here, and off she went to take a position in some townhouse in Gracechurch Street."

"And you've not bothered with filling our own position here?"

"We've gone near a year without, in times past."

"A year?!"

Childermass finally looked up at his master then, and told him frankly, "You never noticed, nor complained. Sir."

"But…"

"Lucy is a fine housemaid and all we need. Oliver and I see to the needs of the kitchen. All else is in order. What need have we for a housekeeper?"

"Well-- But-- It's only respectable!" Mr. Norrell finally managed.

"I'll hire one on then, shall I?"

"Immediately!"

= = = = =

Mrs. Pryer came at the recommendation of Mr. Lascelles. This predisposed Childermass to take a dislike to her, sight unseen, which all the other servants quickly observed and took to heart. (To be frank, Childermass took a natural distrust of anything that he did not have a hand in himself.) And he went out of his way to warn each of the servants to watch their tongues around this particular housekeeper. Not to mention their various comings and goings.

But the night before the new housekeeper was to arrive, Childermass caught Lucas sneaking out of the upstairs servants' corridor.

"Lucas."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Is there a reason you're creeping about up here?"

"Reason, sir? I-- I-- was needed. To give a hand. Ah, the ladies… Needed help. Lifting. A thing."

"Mm." Childermass stared thoughtfully at him, his eyes raking up and down the young man's form, taking in his slightly disheveled state. "You'll have to do far better should Mrs. Pryer catch you where you've no business being. Any excuse will do. But it would be my preference she does not catch you at all. Am I understood?"

"Understood, sir? Yes, sir. Clearly understood. Sir."

"Lucas. Call me 'sir' one more time and I will kiss the tendency right out of you."

"Do you mean it, sir?!"

"That was meant to be a threat," Childermass grumbled.

"I'll take it as a promise!" Lucas said brightly, taking the stairs down with a skip to his step.

Childermass looked up to find Dido and Lucy peering out of their room.

"Can we watch?" Dido asked.

Childermass shrugged and rolled his eyes so hard they might as well have rolled right out of his head.

"Will you all just… please go to bed," he sighed, as Sarah was making her way upstairs.

"Oh," the little scullery maid said, "Hannah's not been in her own bed these past three nights together." She stopped, set down her buckets of water, and looked up at him. "Is it true that she sleepwalks? She never has before."

"True as the King's letters," Childermass told her. "Go on now. All of you."

Dido and Lucy disappeared back into their room with a giggle after taking in the hot water Sarah had brought them.

Childermass took his own hot water up to his room as Sarah returned to fetch the last for herself and Hannah-- if she ever turned up, apparently.

That night, he went through his evening ablutions with his usual haste, and he took his shadows with him to sit at his open door and listen to the nighttime wanderings of the other servants.

He heard Sarah return with her water, as well as a continuous stream of conversation and laughter from the room Dido and Lucy shared, though he did not stoop so low as to pick out their words.

He heard Hannah come up, though he did not think she went into her own room, and later heard someone go downstairs-- Dido, if he knew her steps as well as he thought he did.

At one point, he heard raucous mens' laughter echoing up the stairs all the way from the servants' hall. He hoped it would not wake Norrell and finally went to bed himself.

= = = = =

In the morning, he woke everyone before their usual rising time (with a self-satisfyingly vicious knock upon their doors), and told Sarah that as a special gift she could sleep in, so long as she was washed and cleaned and ready to work by eight. Sarah smiled with glee and plucked Cat from where the tabby was curled at the foot of her bed, and it allowed itself - with the sourest face a cat ever wore - to be snuggled. Childermass considered it a small miracle that everyone was in their own bed.

In short order, the staff was arrayed by seniority before the cold fireplace in the servants' hall.

Oliver stood, scratching his nose and giving Childermass a wary look.

Lucy slumped with arms folded, expression unreadable.

Lucas dug into the stone floor with the toe of his shoe, eyes down.

Dido bit casually at a thumbnail, eyes wide.

Davey bounced on the balls of his feet, quite unable to be still as his gaze darted all about the room.

Only Hannah stood like a proper servant, facing forward, arms at her sides.

Dusty crouched beside her, batting at the hem of her skirts.

Childermass stood before the wide window that overlooked the table, and the light of false dawn illuminated his tall silhouette there with his crossed arms and cocked head. He sighed and rubbed that spot between his eyebrows that collected tension like a well's bucket collected water.

"And now the proper order, please," he grumbled.

They shuffled themselves so that the men stood together, and the women likewise. Dusty decided Childermass would be fun to climb upon.

Attempting to ignore the little cat trying to climb his leg, Childermass stared them down. "Do you know Mr. Lascelles?"

They all gave some nod of acknowledgement.

Lucas and Davey had met him, Lucy had seen him, and the others had all heard of him.

"Do you understand that he is insinuating his own agent into our household?"

They nodded solemnly.

"Do you understand what will happen if she catches any of you - of us - at our tumblings?"

"But she would not have the authority to dismiss us," Oliver said baldly.

"Oh? And if she tells Lascelles? Who takes it upon himself to remark to Mr. Norrell upon the disrespectful behavior of his servants? I can only keep you here so long as Mr. Norrell keeps you here. Give her no reason, no reason at all to tell Lascelles anything. Must I make myself any plainer?"

They all shook their heads, some calmly, others vigorously, as Dusty hooked herself into Childermass's breeches with four sets of claws.

*Mrow?* she asked.

Childermass scooped the little thing into one hand before returning his severest glare to the help.

As one, the help smirked.

Childermass sighed and set the cat on the floor and put his fists on his hips and he said, "You're my family. I don't want to be the one to turn you out."

He left them then, to start their mornings how they wished, and to turn his final words over in their heads. No one saw him again until Mrs. Pryer arrived at the back door, at noon precisely.

= = = = =

Mrs. Pryer had never been married, but like any respectable housekeeper, she went by the title of a married woman. She had grey hair and grey eyes, and something of a grey tinge to her skin. None of this was aided by the greys she perpetually wore, though she could not be much past fifty, if that.

She spoke very little and asked only sensible questions as Childermass showed her about the house, lined up the servants before her, and then called in Mr. Norrell to view them all in the upper hall.

Mr. Norrell made his usual highly awkward speech to his servants, welcomed Mrs. Pryer to the best of his ability, and then sent them off to, "Do whatever it is that you do."

They scattered quickly and Childermass left Mrs. Pryer to Oliver's tender mercies in the kitchen before slinking back upstairs to his desk in the library's corner. It was a good location, giving him natural daylight to work in when the sun was out, and natural shadows to lurk in when it wasn't.

Lascelles was sure to show himself that day, and Childermass did his utmost best to ignore the man completely.

= = = = =

That night, Sarah and Hannah served the senior servants their dinner, as was their duty, and so sincerely had everyone taken Childermass's warning that morning that they ate in a silence that was only broken by the clink of silverware.

Childermass just shook his head and ate his dinner, supposing it was better than some of their more raucous evenings.

But after dinner, Lucas and Davey brought out their deck of cards to play a game, and (after her own dinner) Hannah sat beside Childermass with her most recent book, and Dusty curled up on Lucy's lap, and Dido and Sarah went chattering off into the kitchen. Oliver sat beside the new housekeeper and made the closest he could come to polite conversation.

An air of hesitance still hung about them all until Sarah came back from scrubbing out the scullery and tugged on Childermass's sleeve and said, "Sir, will you read my cards this night?"

Childermass gave her a small smile through the blue smoke that had gathered around his head from his pipe, and said, "If I must."

Sarah smiled at his teasing and sat opposite him at the table as he reached into an inner pocket.

Childermass flashed a look at Mrs. Pryer, who watched with the usual curiosity of someone who had never seen such a thing, and told her around the stem of his pipe (as though confiding a secret), "The master doesn't care for it."

"But everyone else does," Oliver said eagerly. "Come on then. Tell Sarah her fortune."

So Childermass shuffled his cards, and Sarah cut them, and he laid them out, two rows of five.

Everyone gathered to watch, unable to do anything else.

Childermass casually handed his pipe over to Oliver, who drew unthinkingly on it as Childermass read out the cards.

"Ah," Childermass said upon turning over the first card, "You've a bright and tender heart. Best take care with that, Miss Sarah. …What's this I see? A change in your future. Soon, I should think. And not for good nor bad, but different, I think you'll find it…" And so it went.

Sarah took all this in with the wide-eyed gullibility of youth, while everyone else fondly watched.

"And," John Childermass concluded her reading the same way he always did as he turned over the Dame de Deniers, as he always did, "You will move to Yorkshire, be married, and have five children."

The girl laughed and clapped her hands for joy, even as she said, "But it is true, Mr. Childermass?"

"O'course it is, lass. True as the King's Book."

"No such thing, is there?" Oliver whispered in his ear.

"Hush, Oliver. All right," Childermass said as he gathered the cards and shuffled them and eyed the eagerly assembled crowd. "Who's next then?"

"Can you really read them, Mr. Childermass?" Mrs. Pryer asked.

"Oh, he's always right, when the reading's clear enough," Lucas said, smiling.

"Then, can you read for me?" Mrs. Pryer asked, and there was something of girlish wonder in her tone and brightness in her mirror-grey eyes.

So, John Childermass turned to face this strange grey woman and set the deck before her. "Cut it anywhere you like."

Mrs. Pryer's thin fingers separated the deck into two parts and Childermass restacked them and laid out his two rows of five.

The other servants watched all this with interest and a certain amount of anticipation.

Childermass turned the first card.

"Neuf d'Épées…" he murmured. He stared at the card thoughtfully and offered no initial comment. He flipped the next card to reveal, "and the ten of swords." He tapped the card for a moment and looked intriguingly at her. "Yours has not been a life graced with many gifts. The death of… a child. The betrayal of friends." He moved on to the next.

"Ten of Bâtons… it is a card of false-seeming. But on your part? Or another's?" Childermass asked, not expecting an answer (nor giving one) as he turned over the fourth card: The King of Coins, reversed.

"Oh, him," Childermass grumbled. "Roi de Deniers. Here's your Mr. Lascelles, and no mistake…" he quickly turned the next card to show Le Diable, but he made no comment on it.

Childermass began the second row of cards, and it started with The Hanged Man. "Le Pendu. He's for you and the many sacrifices you've made in your life… too many." His deep and unfaltering gaze looked up to her in a shrewd evaluation and then back down.

"Your wheel is turning," he observed of the seventh card and then flipped the eighth. "L'Hermite, reversed… you've come here to serve Mr. Norrell, but your purpose is not so straightforward as we've been made to believe."

The ninth card: La Justice. "Hm," Childermass remarked and was quiet for a very long time before he told the group at large, "I think, then, you've little to worry about, Mrs. Pryer, nor do we." Then, just as he had for Sarah, he turned over the final card of the Queen of Coins.

Mrs. Pryer raised a single slender eyebrow and said, "You don't mean to tell me that I shall move to Yorkshire, be married, and have five children?"

Childermass smiled gently. "I should say not. For you, the meaning is otherwise." But he did not say what that meaning was as he gathered the cards to shuffle them again and Davey sat down to cut the deck.

= = = = =

After the maids had gone to bed, Childermass escorted Mrs. Pryer to her room at the top of the servants' stair.

"Is it not improper," she asked him after he pointed out his own room, "for a man to be situated so near the maids?"

"Oh, we don't stand much on propriety here, Mrs. Pryer. The men are below stairs and the women above and I have my attic room, 'tis true."

"But you might share with the cook, Mr. Priddy?"

"You've had to put up with Oliver for less than a day," Childermass said with a wry twist to his lips. "Can you imagine anyone sharing a room with him? Besides, I don't mind the attic, and none other cares to take it, small and much exposed to the elements as it is. …If there's aught else I can do to ease your worries or aid you in your duties here at Hanover Square, let me know."

He turned away then to seek his own bed, when Mrs. Pryer stopped him.

"Mr. Childermass… what is your position in the house?"

He turned back to her with a lopsided grin. "I serve as Mr. Norrell's man of business. And I see to what needs seeing to. Have a good night, Mrs. Pryer."

She did not stop him then as he made his way up the narrow attic stairs beside her own door.

= = = = =

Re: Fill: What the Master Doesn't Know (6.1/?)

[(Anonymous)]

As far as Childermass could tell, no one stirred out of bed that night, but he also knew that such good behavior might only last so long, and despite what small reassurance he'd received from his cards he thought he would do well to learn more of Mrs. Pryer.

Even before dawn was a threat on the horizon, Childermass set out to track down the coachman that had delivered their housekeeper the previous day and learned that she'd come from a ladies' boarding house in Stepney. So he made his way to the place (known as Woestalls) and spoke to the proprietress, who was very tightlipped until he passed her palm with a guinea, after which she was quite free with her speech.

Mrs. Pryer - whose Christian name was Twyla - had taken a room at Woestalls four months before and paid for her room up front every week, and never caused anyone the slightest amount of trouble. When at home, she often confined herself to her room and spent little time in the common areas with the other women, but she was also out quite often, though none could say where she went or how she came by her money.

"Surely, she cannot have much money," the proprietress went on, "for I never saw her in any but two dresses and the same of everything else each time I saw her, though she was in her cups as often as she could be. Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr…?"

"No," Childermass said, "but I'd hear aught else of her you know."

"Well, tis very little. She confessed her father came from up north somewhere and her mother was from Prussia or some foreign place and she'd been in service all her life."

"And where was she situated before she came to Woestalls?"

"Well," she said, (as she began nearly every sentence she spoke) and this time leaned in with an air of conspiratorial confidence, "she would not say, but I had it from the boy who carried her valise when she arrived that she had lately come from a house in Kensington and was dismissed under very mystifying and secretive circumstances."

"Thank you," Childermass told her, and left before the woman could ask any questions of him.

In the market gardens of Kensington, Childermass found any number of folk willing to speak what they knew, some for a coin and others freely, and Childermass had to sort out the truths from the fictions. Finally, he found his way to the back door of an affluent townhouse, and he watched the comings and goings there until a young footman came out on some errand and Childermass loomed into his path.

"Your Mrs. Pryer-- why was she dismissed?" he growled at the youth, who stumbled backwards into a shrubbery.

The youth quaked in terror and stared owlishly up at him.

"It-it-it-it was a gentleman acquaintance s-s-s-s-said she'd borned a child out of wedlock. Th-th-the master turned her out that day."

"And the gentleman's name?"

"L-Lascelles."

"And how long had she been at service here?"

"Three y-y-y-y-years, sir."

"And how was her work?"

"B-b-but it was e-e-e-e-e-excellent, sir."

"All right," Childermass said, dropping a coin in his lap. "You may go."

The boy took off like a fox hounded from its den.

= = = = =

That night after dinner, Childermass was sure to casually open a bottle of wine, which excited Oliver and Dido greatly, was of mild interest to Lucy and Lucas, and which Davey and Hannah politely refused. Sarah requested to try it, and Childermass only narrowed his eyes at her.

When he came to Mrs. Pryer, he asked, "Care for a drop?"

Mrs. Pryer looked at the bottle and then gave a small nod. One bottle of wine did not divide generously between six people, but Childermass poured as evenly as he could and Davey passed out the glasses.

"Sarah," Childermass then said, "you know you are too young yet, even for but a taste of wine. So we shall sing whatever you like this night."

"'Pratty Flowers'!" she instantly demanded, bouncing in place.

Everyone looked to Oliver, who began the choral song, and which everyone shortly joined in, singing it through once before taking it again from the beginning to let Sarah sing the first lines of each stanza before everyone else joined in the four-part harmony, and in the end Sarah held the last note longest, her little voice ringing through the hall. She clapped with glee and then sat quietly in her chair, waiting to see what would be next.

"Sarah, run and get my fiddle," Oliver told her.

"Yes, sir!" she said at once and jumped to her feet.

When she returned, he played a joyful jig and smiled around the table at everyone as he did.

They clapped along and applauded him when he finished, but then Oliver turned to Lucy and said, "Why don't you sing for us tonight, Lucy? So fine, your voice is."

"I will, if you like. Sarah, what should I sing?"

"Sing that song about the pink, the violet and the rose."

"All right," she agreed, but then when Lucy began to sing in the most haunting way, a solemnity drew itself like a pall about the room.

"When I was in my prime
I flourished like a vine.
Along there came a false young man
And stole this heart of mine…
And stole this heart of mine."

As she sang the final 'mine', Dido and Hannah joined in with a soft and wavering 'ah' that sucked the soul from the room with its mournfulness as the note fell.

"The gardener standing by
He made three offers to me:
The pink, the violet, and red rose,
To which I refused all three…
To which I refused all three."

This time, as the women sang out their mourning 'ah', Oliver joined with a graceful draw of the bow upon the strings of his fiddle, reverberating a physical ache through the room.

"The pink's no flower at all;
Its blossom withers too soon.
The violet has too pale a hue.
I think I'll wait till June…
I think I'll wait till June."

Nearly every voice in the room found that falling, hollow 'ah' that rang out in perfect sorrow.

"In June the red rose blooms
But it's not the flower for me.
It's then I'll uproot the red, red rose
And plant a willow tree…
And plant a willow tree.

"And plant a willow tree.

"And plant a willow tree."

After the final 'ah' faded from their ears, a sweet silence filled the hall like the glow of the fire in the grate.

Mrs. Pryer dabbed discreetly at her eyes as Childermass shooed Sarah out to begin her evening chores.

Shortly after this, Lucy, Dido, and Hannah said their good nights and filed upstairs.

Childermass gave Oliver a subtle look and gesture and the cook rose to fetch a bottle from his room.

Lucas and Davey sought their beds as Oliver returned with a bottle of brandy, which was served up to Childermass, Mrs. Pryer, and Oliver himself.

Between sips of the brandy, Oliver would pick up his fiddle and scrape out a song or some melody he half-remembered. Childermass droned a heavily accented version of 'On Ilkla Moor Baht 'at', which made his listeners smile.

"Have you any favorite songs, Mrs. Pryer?" Oliver asked.

"Oh, not as such," she said. "Most houses I've been in don't have such singing as this. Does it not bother the master?" she asked, looking to Childermass, draped all in his shadows at the end of the table.

"If you were to ask him," Childermass said slowly, thoughtful with his words, "Mr. Norrell would have that it gives him the most trying headaches, and he would lay claim to how vexatious it is to have servants always yodeling about below stairs. He might complain that Lucas and Davey ought to drive the carriage and not sing away like fools as they do, or that Lucy could as easily tend to the dusting in silence as in song."

"That's what he would say?" she asked.

"Oh, yes."

"But sir, you smile so knowingly."

"I do."

"And why?"

"Because when he does not think I'm watching, he turns his head to listen. And once, he plain forgot I was in the library with him, and he got up to go to the door, and I felt sure any moment he'd go yelling down to tell them to stop their racket."

"And didn't he?"

"Nay," Childermass said, still smiling. "He stood at the door and listened. That's all."

Mrs. Pryer smiled back at him, but tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes.

Any number of things could have been said about loneliness then, but all was silent until the night was late and the brandy dwindling.

After Mrs. Pryer went to bed, Oliver - with a rather deliberate look at Childermass - pointedly went to bed in a direction that firmly was not his own.

Childermass shrugged and went about securing the house a final time before stopping outside the boys' room downstairs. He had to be content that he could hear only very little before heading to bed himself.

= = = = =

Mrs. Pryer had Sunday mornings for church and Wednesday evenings to herself.

For three weeks, Childermass mostly ignored her, but on the fourth Wednesday, he donned his hat and heavy coat, his shadows and his vigilance, and followed her out the back door.

He trailed her at some distance along Hanover Street, and then a bit closer as she joined the thicker foot traffic on Regent Street. This long path she followed until Regent became Coventry and then she cut across Leicester Square Garden to Irving Street. From there, Charing Cross Road took her to St. Martin's Place and William IV Street and then George Court to the Strand and finally to Fleet Street. At the last, she turned down the narrow Cheshire Court to the public house that was her destination.

It was not the most direct route, but Childermass well understood that a woman alone may not take the same back streets he felt so at home in.

Lingering in an opposing doorway several storefronts down, Childermass waited. Not even an hour had passed since leaving Hanover Square, and all the churches round about rang out the hour of six. St. Bride's, being nearest, was the loudest, but he could hear the nearby St. Paul's ring out down the way.

Childermass eyed the people roundabout going along their various ways on their various businesses and allowed himself to be seen.

It was not long before a young beggar approached him, hoarding his attention while a small hand slipped into his pocket from the other side.

Childermass grabbed the thieving wrist in an unrelenting hold. The little boy who'd had his hands cupped out before him took off like the hounds of hell might be after him and swiftly disappeared into the crowd. Childermass turned to regard the lass who'd tried to pinch the wrong pocket.

She was about sixteen, gaunt with hunger, with lank brown hair and wide brown eyes, glassy with fear. She did not speak.

"Running about Fleet Street with your eager hands… must be one of Pyewacket's gang."

"How-- how did you know, sir?"

He ignored this question to ask one of his own, "Should you like a pound?"

"A… a whole pound, sir?" Her fearful look turned mutinously suspicious. "For what?"

"I may have a job for a cunning young lass who can go about unnoticed. If I release you, and you do not run away, I shall give a shilling, and we'll talk then, yes?"

She stared him in the face for a long moment before agreeing with a single sharp nod.

Childermass released her and she rubbed her wrist and gave him a foul look, but did not run away.

Childermass produced a shilling, though from where she did not see, and handed it to her.

"Do you know the place?" he asked, with a nod down the street.

"Ye Olde Cheshire? O'course. But they don't let such as me in."

"I doubt they'll turn away a paying customer, howsoever… untidy she might be."

She looked across the street at the place and at the customers who came and went, and then at the barrel organ player down the way, and at the folk coming and going all about. She looked back to Childermass.

"A'right, then. What would ye have me do?"

"An acquaintance of mine is inside. I suspect she is meeting someone. Stand here with me awhile and we shall see."

The girl crossed her arms and gave him a sulky look. He did not see what she had done with the shilling.

"What's your name?" he asked, as he looked down the ends of the street at the passing carriages, Cheshire Court being itself too narrow for all but the smallest dogcarts.

She eyed him thoughtfully.

"No need to lie," he told her. "I'll know if you do."

"Edlyn."

"And I'm John."

She blinked at him.

"Ah," he said as a fancy carriage stopped at the Fleet end of the Court. "Stand back and hold still," he instructed, laying a hand over her wrist as though to inform her how to be so.

They watched as a well-dressed man descended, donned his hat, and sauntered down the center of the narrow street, forcing those before him to part to one side or the other. He looked neither left nor right as he made his way and entered the public house they'd been watching.

Childermass released his light hold on the girl and told her, "That is Mr. Lascelles." He held out a pound. "Go in. Order whatever you like to eat. Keep as close to that man as you can without being noticed, and report back to me when all is over. I'll give you whatever I think your information is worth, so long as it be truthful."

Edlyn nodded and pocketed the coin and dashed off across the street without question.

= = = = =

Re: Fill: What the Master Doesn't Know (6.2/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Childermass waited for almost three hours.

It was dark when Edlyn emerged, staggering across the street toward him.

"You're drunk," he said when she stopped and swayed toward him before righting herself.

"Only a little," she defended.

"How much did you have?"

"Two pints."

"Have you ever had such before?"

"Only a tot of gin from me mum when poorly."

"Well," Childermass sighed, "tell me what - if anything - you learned."

"That Mr. Lascelles, he sat in a shadowy booth at the back with the lady-- she was older and all grey about the edges…"

"That's Mrs. Pryer."

"Yes. He called her Twyla. I sat at the end of the bar nearest and had hot soup."

"And?"

"It was very good."

Childermass glared.

"I jest, sir. I could hear some of what they said, but not all. They spoke of trivialities the way rich folk do. Then he asked about how she was getting on in her new position. I figured she must be in service for the way she spoke. She said she saw her master rarely, and that all was as could be expected in such a place."

"And they spoke so for three hours?"

"Nay." Edlyn swayed toward Childermass, caught herself on his chest, and slowly righted herself again.

"Mr. Lascelles came right up beside me and spoke to the barkeep about a room for an hour. They did not notice me at all or should not have spoke so freely, I think. Mr. Lascelles paid and went up, and Twyla followed not long after.

"I thought it best to stay for to be sure I got what you would pay me, and I could not just sit there, the barman eyeing me so funny, I felt I should order something. They had stout. The woman came back down after an hour or so and went out the back way. I waited but did not see Mr. Lascelles again."

"What else can you tell me, girl?"

"Mr. Lascelles is much impressed with himself, and other people not at all. Your Mrs. Pryer is very quiet and I think she was afraid of him. Mr. Lascelles asked her a number of times about a man she works with. He has a funny name."

"Childermass."

"That's it! Yes. But she only said he was diligent in his duties, if a bit lax with his toilet and insolent at times, but Mr. Lascelles seemed to know all this already."

Childermass sighed before producing a handful of coins, which he poured into her eager hands.

"Now I have to get you home, I suppose," he said, eyeing her drooping eyelids.

"Yes please," she said, leaning into him, half asleep already as she tucked the coins away into a reticule sewn from scraps.

He wrapped an arm about her waist and followed her mumbled directions back to Fleet Street and then toward the Thames. She led him to a ramshackle structure near the water, the stench of the entire place rather obvious.

A group of ragged children ran out to meet them, including the boy who had earlier run from them. They were all in amazement that she had not been clapped in irons and wanted to know what he'd been doing with her for so long. He told them he'd hired her for a job and that she made an excellent spy, but oughtn't drink quite so much.

Finally, a raggedy woman of middle age ambled out, brandishing a rolling pin and demanding to know what exactly he'd been doing with her daughter.

Before any time had been allotted for an answer, she attempted to strike him over the head.

Childermass plucked the offending item out of the woman's hand and explained that he'd paid her for a job, nothing untoward, and it was on her own account that she'd drunk too much, and if Edlyn ever had a mind to turn to honest work, she'd likely be quite good at it. He returned the rolling pin then, and tipped his hat, and said, "John Childermass at your service," before turning his back on the whole lot of them and disappearing into the darkness.

= = = = =

He expected to find the help at their dinner when he let himself in the back door, but only found Mrs. Pryer quietly crying into a greyish handkerchief.

She sniffled as he entered and attempted to compose herself.

Childermass made nothing like a fuss, only hung up his hat and coat like usual and sauntered about the shadows of the room before approaching the table with a bottle in hand.

"You are unwell, Mrs. Pryer."

"No. Not-- It is only… something in the air. Very dry…"

"I've something to help with that, then," he said, sitting at an angle to her and setting down two glasses.

"You are very free with the master's liquor."

"Who says it is the master's?" he responded, pulling the cork from the ruby red wine.

"Well, then, I thank you."

He poured out the wine for both of them and after they had settled into their first glass, he asked, "Are you in some trouble, Mrs. Pryer? Anything I can help you with?"

She stared into her cup then, thinking. "There isn't a soul on earth can help me," she said.

"That is a sorry state, then," he answered, watching her carefully all the while.

She drank only sparingly, and Childermass could see her fretful mind at work, as the worse and worser thoughts crossed her face like descending storms of clouds.

"Mr. Childermass. My first night here, you read those cards for me. You said things no one could rightly know… Did you know ought of me before I came here?"

"Only that Mr. Lascelles was adamant about your taking a position here."

"But… so you didn't know I'd had a child? And lost it? Or that I'd been betrayed? By Mr. Lascelles himself?"

Childermass shook his head. "I did not know. Only the cards told me."

"But you never did say what the last one meant. The last card… what was it?"

"The Queen of Coins. It augers something good for you. Freedom from your troubles."

"But how can you be so sure?"

He shrugged. "The Cards of Marseilles have their own surety. I only read them."

"Oliver told me you'd been gone all day and missed dinner. …they all ate early, for the master took it in mind to have an early dinner."

"I'm gone from here much of the time. And the master eats when he pleases. And Oliver knows I look out for myself when I am not home for meals."

"Where did you go?"

"I followed you."

Mrs. Pryer sucked in a breath and made a tight, unhappy line of her lips as she bowed her head and tried not to cry. "Will I be dismissed, then?"

"And for what should I turn you out?"

"For betraying the house… for laying with a man not my husband."

"Do you wish to leave?"

"No, I-- Mr. Lascelles pays my way when I cannot make my own. If I am dismissed, I do not know what should happen to me…"

"Have no fear. I've no intention of turning you out, so long as you listen to what I say now."

Mrs. Pryer rallied her strength to look him in the eyes.

"Whatever Mr. Lascelles holds over you, I do not care. But I will not have you telling him anything at all of what goes on in the house… He's here often enough and can look all he likes for himself above stairs. He seeks to have me turned out and no mistake, but I can tell you right now that no inducement he could make to Mr. Norrell would bring such a thing about. I shall leave of my own accord one day, may be, but Mr. Norrell will not see me go, not for all Mr. Lascelles' pleas and complaints. Now, if you consider your salary fair, and have no complaints of your working conditions here, I see no reason why you should not stay as long as you like in Mr. Norrell's employ."

Mrs. Pryer breathed heavily as she turned all this over in her mind. Finally, she wondered, "And what of Mr. Lascelles? When I do not meet him, he shall surely tell Mr. Norrell about… about my unsuitableness."

"Will he?" Childermass asked, with something of a smile. "Will he tell Mr. Norrell that the housekeeper he himself so highly recommended is in any way inferior or disreputable?"

"He might. If… if he took great offense at my leaving off his demands."

"I think you'll find," Childermass said as he poured her more wine, "that when it comes down to it, I have greater sway over Mr. Norrell than all the Lascelles and Drawlights of London together, even if your past should come to light. Now," he said, sitting back and crossing one leg over his knee as he took a sip of wine, "shall you tell me your story? So that there may be no unpleasant surprises later?"

"And if I should like to keep my secrets to myself?"

"Then they are yours. Only mind: I will not betray you, like others have. A secret is as safe with me as a stone in the King's pocket."

Mrs. Pryer considered this for a long time, biting the insides of her cheeks as she pondered the matter.

Finally she said, "You seem a very fair man."

"Despite following you against your knowledge?"

"Well," she granted, "You had reason to."

"Aye," he agreed.

"My father was from Harrogate," she said, "and was in the King's service. He met my mother - who was from Saxony, but serving a Spanish Marquesa - shortly after the Battle of Valencia de Alcantara. They fell in love and she left her service to follow him and he brought her home with him at the end of the war." She shrugged. "His family disapproved of his marrying a foreigner, but such was his will. They cut him off and he was forced to return to military service to earn a living. He left my mother with me to care for during a hard northern winter. She took ill and never quite recovered. Father died abroad-- the West Indies. I was orphaned at the age of six, and his parents would not take me in, and no one knew anything more of my mother's family.

"So I was sent to an orphanage, and received my education, what there was to be had of it. I thought I might serve somewhere as a governess, if my learning was good enough. But no one ever responded to my letters, so when a newly married couple was looking for a ladies' serving maid, I took the position. But the husband was not content with his wife alone and took a liking to me as well. He would not have turned me out, I think, for he liked me well enough, only I had gotten with child. His friend, Mr. Lascelles, took pity on me and said he would help me… You can guess the rest. Mr. Lascelles took what he wanted and paid me for it, like a proper whore, and when I was too fat to please him, he sent me off to serve an old man in a cottage in Shropshire, who did not mind that I was round with child.

"It was a difficult birth, and Mr. Lascelles said I must send my child to an orphanage, for there was no such thing as a respectable unmarried woman who had a child. I… I longed to keep her, for she was mine. She was my own daughter, no matter how I came by her. But he convinced me in the end that it was not only my choice, but my only choice.

"Mr. Lascelles installed me in a home where he wished to know more of the family. I did my work as a housemaid and paid more attention than I should and answered back to Mr. Lascelles, who still took what he wanted from me, when it pleased him to do so. And so it has been for too many years now, Mr. Childermass."

"Would you have it come to an end, then?" he asked.

"Is it even possible?"

"I have found that many things are possible, when one is willing to seek a solution. Pay no attention to Mr. Lascelles, and do not believe anything he says, no matter what it is. He is a snake. And he has made you his snakelet. You are one of ours now, and answer only to me. Do your duty to Hanover Square and to Mr. Norrell. That is all I ask. I shall handle Mr. Lascelles."

Mrs. Pryer had abandoned her drink to better clasp her frayed handkerchief in two hands. "Can it be so easy?"

"I think you will find it is not. The other servants will have questions, and Lascelles may yet make trouble for us. But I shall stand by you."

"Why?"

"Because that is what ought to be done. Because I myself am a bastard. Because you have such a need as I can fulfill. Take your pick." He drank then, emptying his glass. "Do you meet him every Wednesday?"

"Yes."

"Then you have a week to make your decision."

"I-- I have already decided. I will not be beholden to Mr. Lascelles, not if you can help me avoid it."

"All is well, then," Childermass said, rising to deposit his glass - and Mrs. Pryer's, when she held it out - in the kitchen. He took his turn about the house, securing it, and returned to the servants' hall to see to the fire and put out the candles.

"Shall I see you upstairs, Mrs. Pryer?"

She slowly nodded and rose to her feet, and then led their slow ascension up to the servants' corridor.

She opened her door and stepped aside as though to invite him in.

Childermass merely stood upon the threshold, regarding her.

"I thought you would…" Mrs. Pryer began. "When a man escorts a woman to her room…"

"Let me make one thing very clear, Mrs. Pryer. I like women. Very much, in fact. But never against their will. Not coerced, nor through some 'understanding', nor because one feels owed to the other. I hope you will not dwell too much on what is past, but can look toward a new future. And I will help you how I might. You will sleep well, I trust?" He sketched something of a bow to her before turning to climb the steps to the attic.

Mrs. Pryer wonderingly closed the door.

= = = = =