When Thursday visiting hours arrived at Thurloe, Ana found herself too distracted and worried to engage in any of the conversations or enjoy their usual visitors.
As if her anxieties had summoned him, Hollis arrived, dressed to the nines in a finely fashioned, green driving coat and matching gloves. He cut quite the figure; there was no denying that. And she was terrified to see him; there was no denying that either.
“Might I convince you to abandon your calling hours and join me for a drive through Hyde Park?” His eyes sparkled with charm. Was that sincere, or was he playing a part for the sake of the onlookers?
“I have not driven out during the fashionable hour in years,” she said.
“I suspected as much.” He held out his hand to her. “I think it is time you made a return trip.”
She could feel the other teachers around her silently urging her to accept. Elizabeth’s subtle nod held a note of emphasis. There would be no way of refusing without raising suspicions.
“I believe you are correct.” She set her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet, praying he couldn’t tell she was shaking. “Do you mind waiting while I put on my coat?”
“My dear Miss Newport,” he said, “I would wait a lifetime for you.”
No one in the room could have missed her blush. She dipped a quick curtsey and hurried up to her room. She hadn’t a proper driving coat, but her serviceable brown one would do. If she was about to endure a dressing down, being unfashionable was the least of her worries.
When she returned to the sitting room, he rose and offered his arm. They walked together from the sitting room into the entryway.
“I haven’t had a caller ask me to drive at the fashionable hour,” she said. “I admit I’m a little nervous.”
Hollis paused on the front walk and turned to face her directly. “If you would rather not, I will understand. But I do think it would be an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon. And we would be afforded a rare opportunity for some privacy.”
She suspected she knew what he wanted to discuss in private. At least he was doing her that courtesy, rather than revealing what he knew in front of her colleagues and friends. She allowed a slow breath. “A ride sounds lovely.”
He motioned to the open-top carriage waiting for them. It was not the staid and sedate enclosed carriage that belonged to his brother. They would cut quite a dash in this vehicle.
He handed her up, then assumed his place in the driver’s seat. She adjusted her skirts, smoothing and straightening them. Heavens, she was nervous. More than that, she was afraid. Some legendary sneak thief she was, trembling at the prospect of a conversation.
With a flick, he set the horse to a leisurely walk. They weren’t far from Hyde Park, and there was no need to hurry.
“Have you forgiven me yet for Saturday?” Hollis asked. “I am beyond upset with myself for not realizing I’d left you at my brother’s home with no explanation of my departure. I was upset with him—our conversation didn’t go well—and I left without thinking.”
That was the least of her concerns. “I assumed as much. No harm done, I assure you.”
He smiled, and they continued on. Hollis didn’t seem upset or disapproving. He didn’t even look like he had anything serious to discuss with her. Had he not realized she was the Phantom Fox? Was it possible she’d escaped detection?
They reached the crush of the park. Plenty of other fine carriages and smartly dressed people wound their way around the large green. After a few minutes with nothing but innocuous conversation, she began to relax and let herself enjoy yet another unexpected step back into the world she’d once known.
“Is something the matter?” Hollis asked.
She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, as was customary. “I was only thinking how very long it’s been since I did anything like this. Money gave my family entry into this world of fine carriages and high-class people, but it proved a feeble connection.”
“I have experienced Society’s fickleness like a dagger at times.”
“Then why do you continue being part of it?” She hoped he didn’t read any accusation into her words; she didn’t intend for there to be any.
“Because I love Eloise and Addison too much to take away their choices in life. Our family’s hold on this world is more precarious than anyone realizes. If their odd Uncle Hollis turns his back on it entirely, that might very well sever that hold.”
She hadn’t expected that answer. “But if they weren’t a consideration? If you could choose the life you wanted based on nothing more than your heart?”
An almost sly smile spread across his face. “I’d do what I do now when Society isn’t watching.”
Nervousness pulsed in her chest. “And what is that?” The question emerged in a whisper.
“Can you keep a secret, Ana?”
She nodded, her fears growing.
A gentleman hailed them as his vehicle approached, then slowed. “Mr. Darby.”
Hollis greeted him in return. “Mr. Lewiston. I’ve not seen you about recently.”
“Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong places.” The man clearly meant the observation as something of a lighthearted jest, but there was a heaviness in the bags under his eyes that belied his tone.
“Miss Newport,” Hollis said, “might I make known to you Mr. Lewiston. Lewiston, this is Miss Newport.”
Mr. Lewiston’s bushy brow pulled together and his jowls puffed a moment. “I knew a Newport several years back. He had a daughter who’d likely be about your age now.”
Oh, dear. “That might be my father.”
“Crawford Newport?” Mr. Lewiston guessed.
Ana nodded, then braced herself for the inevitable dismissal or insult.
But Hollis spoke first. “I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Newport. Delightful gentleman, nearly as delightful as his daughter.”
Mr. Lewiston’s eyes darted from Hollis to Ana and back again. “Isn’t he the one who—”
“You didn’t tell me where it was I ought to have been looking for you,” Hollis said. “Obviously not at soirees or musicales or the theatre, as those are places I have been and you have not.”
Mr. Lewiston assumed an expression of great secrecy. “Ask your brother. He knows.”
“He might very well.” Hollis offered Mr. Lewiston a brief dip of his head before making a quick farewell and resuming their drive.
“It is likely uncouth of me to say as much,” Ana said, “but there was something very off-putting about him.”
“Agreed. Even more odd, he didn’t used to have that air about him.”
Ana resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at the man. “What did he mean ‘your brother knows’? That sounded unsavory.”
“I believe his comment touches on the topic I was discussing with Randolph on Saturday.”
“A topic so upsetting it made you forget about my very existence?”
With his eyes still on the road, he said, “Forgetting about your existence has proven utterly impossible for months.”
It was not a sentiment he would express if he knew who she really was.
They were hailed several more times as they made their circuit of the park. Only one other of those they spoke with pieced together who she was and who her father was. And, once again, Hollis made it quite clear that she and her family had his approval. To those who hadn’t a history to connect to her, he treated her as one would a lady of full standing in Society. He was gentle and tender, respectful and kind.
Hollis Darby was a comforting person to be with. He set her at ease. He offered her a measure of peace that she desperately needed. If he hadn’t pieced together her secret life as a thief, she couldn’t afford for him to. He would turn on her as everyone else had.
“You never did tell me what it was you would do with
your life if you had your choice,” she said.
His expression turned serious. “The first bit is that my grandfather gambled away most of our family’s fortune years ago. My father then made short work of nearly all the rest. Randolph has done a remarkable job of accumulating enough to begin pulling the family out of dangerous financial waters, but the empty family coffers have required that I earn my living.”
“I’ve not heard your name attached to an occupation,” she said.
He smiled at her, the same almost sly smile she’d seen before. “There are things I do when Society is not looking.”
She swallowed. “What—What things?”
He laughed. “Now you are imagining something dangerous and possibly criminal, aren’t you?”
He might have been describing what she did when Society wasn’t looking. Something he didn’t seem to have realized he’d discovered.
“I know you enjoy Mr. King’s work,” he said. “Those stories would make anyone assume criminality lurked in the heart of every nobleman.”
She found she could laugh. “I know you enjoy the works of your friend, Mr. Walker. His books paint a compassionate picture of the little criminals in London.”
“I’ve come to know one of those criminals quite well,” he said.
She swallowed. “You have?”
“Yes. A little urchin by the name of Very Merry. She had been stealing as a matter of survival, but the police, unfortunately, do not always see things that way. She is now living at my house, under the watchful eye of my housekeeper and valet.”
“You’ve taken in an urchin?”
He nodded. “She is an absolute demon. And I adore her.”
“You are a remarkable sort of gentleman, Hollis Darby. I’ve found few of your station are so accepting of those who’ve fallen from grace.”
“I was raised in poverty,” he said. “My family resides within a breath of returning there. That has made my brother fearful, but it has taught me empathy.”
How far could that empathy stretch, though? The secret he’d shared with her was nothing compared to the one she held back from him. Society might look askance if his family’s financial situation were revealed. If her secret were made known, she might very well be hanged.
Even the most remarkable sort of gentleman would draw a line there.
by Lafayette Jones
Chapter III
The more time Ace spent with Pudding, the more he liked him. He had gumption. He was funny. And, Ace suspected, he would always be up for a prank or two.
It was a deuced shame the boy wasn’t dead.
“Is that enough chalk?” Bathwater eyed Pudding’s pale face.
“Can’t be,” Pudding said. “I can still breathe.”
“Are you accusing us of trying to kill you?” Snout laughed.
“It’d make this transformation easier.”
Ah, yes, Pudding was funny.
Snout had sewn a uniform for Pudding, a feat that had amazed all of them—including Snout. He hadn’t been a tailor’s apprentice or anything like that during his Perishable years.
“Do you think we’re ready?” Bathwater asked. “If he’s caught out, we’re all in the wringer.”
The risk was most of the fun. “We’re ready,” Ace declared.
Pudding stepped lightly as they made for the dormitory door. He’d been practicing and could move almost as silently as the others. If only Ace could figure a way to make it seem as if, now and then, Pudding unintentionally slipped through the ground like First Forms so often did.
They took the stairs down to the ground level and sauntered out into the open-air commons. The school didn’t hold classes one day each week, giving the students some leisure time. This was one of those days, so the commons was busy.
Students took note of Ace as he passed; they always did. He was always about with friends, so that didn’t cause much of a stir. One of the four of them held his breath each time someone looked too closely. The scrutiny, though, always ended with the other student moving along.
“We’re managing it,” Snout said.
“The ‘we’ feels questionable.” Pudding kept his voice low, apparently remembering that he didn’t sound quite like he ought.
“You could always saunter about on your own,” Ace said.
“We could always saunter to wherever the food is,” Pudding tossed back.
Ace shook his head, managing not to accidentally spin it all the way around. “You Perishables and your obsession with food.”
Pudding shrugged. “It’s more an obsession with staying . . . perishable.”
“Hush, lads,” Snout growled. “Rattlebag’s coming this way.”
They formed something of a clump, chatting like nothing was odd about them. Pudding tucked himself a little behind Bathwater. It’d be best if he weren’t too easy to see.
“Professor Rattlebag,” Ace greeted. “I hope you’re proud of us; we haven’t made any mischief lately.”
“Proud?” Rattlebag hitched a pearly eyebrow. “I think the better word is suspicious.”
“Of us?” Ace used his most innocent voice. “We’ve been perfect angels.”
“I doubt that.” Rattlebag glanced over the others before returning his gaze to Ace. “Remember, I have my eyes on you.”
He floated away. The professors had been practicing ghostliness for centuries and could manage all the tricks with hardly any effort. Someday Ace would as well.
The other three were grinning broadly when Ace looked in their direction.
“We snuck Pudding past Rattlebag,” Ace said. He’d have given them a one-ghost round of applause if he’d learned yet how to make actual noise that way. That was a Second Form skill. “We’re well on our way to becoming legends, my friends.”
“Including me?” Pudding asked.
“The only Perishable to ‘attend’ Higglebottom’s? That’s legendary in anyone’s book.”
From across the lawn, Cropper approached. He wasn’t a regular in their group, but he wasn’t an enemy either. Further, he was clever. Would he see through Pudding’s disguise?
“Who’s the newdead?” Cropper asked, nodding toward Pudding.
“Not entirely newdead,” Ace said. “But still fresh. We’re taking him under our shroud, so to speak.”
Cropper watched Pudding a moment longer. “How far under your shroud?”
“What do you mean?” Bathwater asked.
“Whispers around Higglebottom’s is that you need a fourth for your Spirit Trials team.”
A Perishable on their Spirit Trials team? That would be the prank of the millennium. But it also might cost them the opportunity to skip ahead to Second Form. Another term in First Form would be a dead bore. Literally.
“That explains the addition,” Cropper said, nodding like he’d just answered a puzzling question. “We’d all wondered why the Gang of Three now had four. He’s your new teammate.”
Snout and Bathwater looked to Ace, keeping their expressions unreadable to anyone who didn’t know them as well as Ace did. If they said Pudding wasn’t their new teammate, those wondering about him would wonder more. They’d be caught out for sure and certain.
“We’re being charitable,” Ace told Cropper. “Showing up newdead so close to the Spirit Trials is a recipe for failure. We’re going to save this new arrival from that fate.”
“That’ll cost you the top prize,” Cropper warned.
He knew it. He knew everyone else knew it. But knowing something was impossible had never stopped Ace before.
“Oh, we’ll take the top prize. And we’ll be the first team to manage it with a newdead.”
Cropper shrugged. “I wish you luck, then.”
“We won’t need it.”
Cropper walked away, only slipping a foot through the ground twic
e—not too rubbish for a First Form.
“Pudding’s going to be on our team?” Snout asked.
“He’ll have to be, or this whole thing’ll fall apart.” Ace eyed them all, including their chalk-covered new friend. “It’ll be the most ambitious prank we’ve pulled yet. And we only need one thing to make it work.”
“What’s that?” Pudding asked.
“A whole heap of luck.”
For the poor and infirm, the hopeless and voiceless, we do not relent. We do not forget. We are the Dread Penny Society.”
Hollis dropped back into his seat in the Parliamentary room at headquarters, feeling quite pleased with the world.
“A penny for your thoughts, genn’lmen.” Fletcher made the expected call for business.
Hollis did his best to pay attention, but his thoughts were on Ana. Their ride in the park had been heavenly. He’d shared aspects of his life that he never told anyone, and she hadn’t balked or dismissed him. He’d made no real effort to hide his partiality for her, and he felt certain he’d seen that same preference reflected in her eyes.
He hoped to be able to share more of what he kept hidden, to trust her with the bits he hadn’t told her yet: that he worked for his living, and that work was crafting low literature. She would understand; he felt certain she would.
“Blue Bill was taken in by the police two days ago,” Martin said to the group. “They got him first.”
“Did he prove to be as young as Very Merry?” Fletcher asked.
“A little older, but not much.”
Fletcher looked to Brogan. “What does Parkington say?” Parkington was their contact at the Metropolitan Police.
“They found the lad with enough pilfered loot that there was no question what he’d been up to, and they’re certain he’d been doing so on behalf of someone else.”
Just like Very Merry. How many urchins were being forced to work for Four-Finger Mike, risking so much with so little hope of escape?
“Which area of Town?” Hollis asked.
“Don’t worry,” Irving tossed out. “I’m sure that bull of a valet of yours won’t let anyone break into your flat.”
The Gentleman and the Thief Page 13
