The Royal Perfects

by Jeremy Neeley

  Chapter 13: Duchess Josephina’s Secret

  Francis and Snoots did their best to draw a further explanation out of Timmy, but Wicketts remained tight-lipped. He wanted to lay it out in front of the entire troupe so that everyone could contemplate the idea all at once. With a newly sparked fervor, Timmy quickened the group’s pace back to Lester’s, and as the sun faded slowly behind the clouds, they squeezed through the back window of their temporary hideaway.

  Their presence was immediately met by the gleefully delighted Twitch. He let out a thrilling trail of tweets before landing upon Timmy’s shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. Joy filled the barren jam jar-sealing store. The gang had just been sitting down to dinner when the three missing members appeared. Warm hugs and hoorahs were showered upon them, as well as a bevy of questions concerning the experiences they had at the jail.

  Soon after the men had been taken away, word spread, and Bugs had put a hold on their blitzkrieg-style performances. They had opted to regroup and lay low for the past week, just waiting quietly for their convicted compatriots to return. Now that they had, all eleven men were energized and reinvigorated. The Perfects were reunited again. They made room for their mates and passed a fresh plate of beef to each. All looked toward Timmy, eager to hear what he thought they should do next.

  After scarfing down a slice of meat, Timmy stood to address his clan. “Gentlemen, the Grinder is no place to be. It is brimming with angry souls and bad intentions and has the ever-present stench of feces. Fellas, I look to spare you all the pain of experience. But, fate must have guided us there because our ordeal yielded two marvelous discoveries. The first came from a man who once employed John Smith. Smith framed him for forgery and crooked dealings, and the gentleman swore his innocence to no avail. He believes a ledger detailing Smith’s underhanded exploits exists, and that it just may set the record straight. If we can obtain the book, we may be able to get Smith locked away for years.”

  “But that coward Smith has protection,” Bugs interjected. “As long as the mayor is in his pocket, he isn’t going anywhere, even if we produce the damning information.”

  “Ah, you are indeed correct, Bugs, but a second revelation came at a place known as The Rosy Plume. It was a rather inconspicuous pub just north of Southrump. There we happened upon quite a sight. Our fastidious and morally concerned mayor stopped by to pay a visit. He was without his normal regalia, and when we prodded the barkeep with a few shillings, the man revealed Percival Snodgrass is a pretty routine customer of the brothel located above the bar.”

  “My word, if his wife, Madison, ever found out…,” began a stunned Smirks Puffchest.

  “My word indeed,” continued Timmy. “But she only makes up a fraction of the fearful fallout. Gents, there are two things our egocentric mayor craves more than anything else—women and power. The latter is dependent on the continued love of a specific member of the former. If we can prove his scandalous affairs to Madison, and her influential father, Admiral Strutney, that weasel Snodgrass will be run out of office faster than a pig chariot rounds a bend.”

  The pig chariot reference had the other Perfects momentarily perplexed, but they got the gist. All began to discuss the concept with heightened gusto.

  “How do we set him up? Do we just do it at the Rosy Plume?” Romeo asked.

  “No, his guard would be up. He obviously takes greater measures to ensure discretion when he heads there,” Brock countered.

  “Agreed,” supported Timmy. “We need to play on his insatiable passion. We’ve seen how he’s ogled lasses at our plays. He’s always seeking out possible prospects. We need to provide bait he couldn’t possibly forego. Something he will be so immediately enthralled with that he will throw caution to the wind. We need a woman of utmost beauty with a lineage of fortune. I’m thinking a Devin air damsel with royal connections and a foreign flare. We construct a story, a visiting duchess from a far away land. She’s in town for only a brief stay, looking to invest in a Southrump enterprise. She’ll be sophisticated, flattering, and willing.”

  “Um, Timmy,” Lancelot interrupted, “where are we going to find a woman like that?”

  “Especially one that would be so willing,” added Benedict.

  Timmy got a wilily look in his eye. “Come on, lads, we’re The Royal Perfects. We can be anyone. John, you were a woman for months there, and Francis, you’ve crafted quite a feminine persona on stage.”

  “Yeah, But look at the two of us,” John Ladyfist said in objection. “I’m a middle-aged hag at best, and Francis has a beak that would turn off a blind man.”

  Francis frowned while wiggling his rather elongated nose.

  “They’re right, Timmy,” agreed Bugs. “There’s only one among us with the skill and fair looks to pull it off.”

  All eyes were on Wicketts. Butterflies began to stir in the pit of his belly. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew they were right. Only he possessed the necessary qualities.

  “Then it shall be me,” he stated with purpose. His friends let out a resounding cheer of approval. “Okay, so her name will be Duchess Angelina Josephina. She’ll be of royal heritage, coming from a small fiefdom in rural Italy. I can do an Italian accent.”

  Bugs could see the whole thing coming together. “Yeah, that’s good, and she should have a couple of royal escorts, being a duchess and all. Brock and I can handle that.”

  “But how do we get the mayor and Ms. Josephina in a proper predicament?” Francis wondered.

  “The Summer’s End Gala,” said Sir Snoots. “It is only a week away. Per tradition, it is held at the Mayor’s mansion. All the luminaries of Upper Southrump are invited. If we can get the duchess an invite, she could make her introductions and hopefully enchant the ravenous rascal. I can try some of my past industry connections and talk up her arrival and mission of investment. I’m sure at least one ambitious merchant will be able to appropriate an invite for her in the hopes of establishing a financial partnership.”

  “That sounds great, Sir Snoots,” Bugs said with excitement. “First thing in the morning, get out there and start spreading the word.”

  “In the meantime, we have to make you something absolutely stunning to wear.” John Ladyfist began to riffle through some of their boxes, pulling out bits of fabric and old gowns.

  As the night rolled on, the energized crew worked over the details, smoothing out the range of possibilities and "what if?" scenarios. Timmy began to commit a solid and plausible back-story to memory, all the while practicing an Italian accent. The plan was now in motion. If successful, they would be one step closer to recapturing their legacy.

  The Royal Perfects crafted an intricate facade for Duchess Josephina. It was logical and detailed, but not overly cumbersome in its content. While the character needed to be believable, she was to be more about looks than substance. Timmy’s thin build and high cheekbones proved a worthy canvas for creating the elegant Italian. John Ladyfist tailored a marvelous ball gown. Its silky white swatches shimmered with pearlessence. He also sewed added padding into the interior, giving Timmy a very appealing set of womanly curves in all the right places. Beautifully ornate, yet entirely bogus, gold- and diamond-jeweled accessories added a sense of wealth.

  With Romeo’s assistance, Timmy was given a fine makeup makeover, accentuating his eyes and lips and really pulling forth his most girlish qualities. To top it all off, a wonderful blonde wig was combed and styled into a grand pompadour of curls and ribbon.

  Timmy was a very attractive woman.

  Brock and Bugs were also decked out in formal attire fitting royal Italian security. They changed their facial appearances through grooming and makeup, and worked on very rough verbal accents that were believable, but harsh. This gave them the added ability to keep any conversation short, blaming their curt communication on poor English.

  Duchess Angelina Josephina and her two royal escorts were well-schooled and looking marvelous. All they needed was access to the event, and Sir Snoot
s came through a day prior to the gala. Many of his past business leads had shrugged him off, still wary of his infamous reputation-killing debacle. But in the end, one came through. Lured by the promise of meeting a wealthy Italian investor, Madame Teresa Tittlebop agreed to give Angelina Josephina her invitation to the gala, provided Duchess Josephina met with her to discuss a business proposition.

  Madame Tittlebop was a rare woman of her time. Despite the commodities business generally being deemed a man’s world, Teresa was able to carve out her own niche in the high-quality, custom-designed doilies industry. Her products were top notch and beyond compare. The Queen herself had even purchased several dozen doilies for use around the palace.

  Madame Tittlebop’s entrepreneurial knack had garnered her great success, and she could relate to Angelina Josephina’s drive. She also saw an opportunity to expand her market into Italy, leveraging the support of a duchess. So it was set, Angelina would be given Madame Tittlebop’s invitation to the mayor’s party, and the next day, Duchess Josephina would meet with Teresa to discuss a doilies partnership. Sir Snoots had come through, although there was a fraction of guilt knowing that if all went well, Josephina would disappear for good after the gala and never fulfill her end of the bargain.

  When the night arrived, Duchess Angelina Josephina pulled up to the mayoral mansion in a luxurious horse-drawn carriage. This rare occasion was one time when Timmy put aside his detest of the steed coach industry. It was, after all, for the greater good. The Perfects had borrowed the transport from Gabriel Goldhand, who lent the ride without hesitation and had no objections when told the men planned on painting and priming the vehicle, giving it a royal treatment.

  Stepping out of the coach, a lovely Duchess Josephina smiled to a waiting reception of manor servants. Brock and Bugs were quick to dismount and usher their charge into the mansion. After handing the official invitation to the door butler, the trio was welcomed inside and formally announced to those already in attendance. They were received with cordial applause.

  The grand lobby was decked out in splendid form. Golden garland and rows upon rows of tea lights lined the banisters and second level balcony. The scent of fresh flowers permeated the air and the chatter of upper crust communication echoed about the vaulted chamber. Timmy took a deep breath before descending the staircase and entering the throng. It was time to put Angelina Josephina to the test.

  The wait was not long. A young man in a fine suit and mighty top hat approached the Duchess, bowing at the knee with respect upon stepping before her.

  “Duchess Josephina, I am Lord Todd Trappings, and it is my sincerest pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Timmy extended his white-gloved hand, and Lord Todd placed a light kiss upon it. Bugs and Brock paid careful attention.

  “Duchess,” Todd continued, “I saw you enter and, I must say, I was taken aback. You are, by far, the most magnificent creation. Michelangelo himself could not have sculpted a more perfect form.”

  “Your kindness is touching, Lord Todd,” replied Timmy in his most seductive womanly tone.

  Todd snatched a couple flutes of champagne from a passing server, offering one to Josephina. “I wish you may steal away with me for a moment so that we can talk in a more intimate setting.”

  Todd was a handsome young man with a chiseled jaw and strapping build. Obviously, the illusion of Josephina was paying off, but the duchess had only one goal that night.

  “Oh, I mustn’t yet. As the saying goes, business before pleasure, and I have business with the mayor.” Timmy feigned disappointment and left the lad a glimmer of hope. “Perhaps afterward we can meet once more. I will look for you.”

  Lord Todd politely smiled and nodded his head in willing acceptance before bidding Josephina adieu. He trailed off to join a nearby conversation about the pros and cons of employing children as factory workers.

  Some reasoned juveniles did not have the skills and intellect needed to navigate the sometimes-dangerous conditions of mass manufacturing. Others argued that their diminutive builds made them excellent small space mechanics, able to enter the tiniest nooks and repair automated machinery without having to shut down the whole assembly line.

  Sure, a child may lose a hand here, a foot there, but what was that cost compared to a loss of production? Furthermore, there were dozens upon dozens of homeless whelps in the streets of Upper Southrump, and anyone would be more than happy to risk limb loss if it meant a chance at earning a couple slices of rye.

  Bugs spotted Percival Snodgrass across the room among a group of partygoers. He motioned to Brock and Timmy, who proceeded to make their way toward the target. As Angelina Josephina moved among the crowd, she was met by more than a few fawning glances. She also caught wind of a rude comment here and there. Men were drawn to her beauty, but women were threatened by it, and some of the more snarky ladies made it known through half-whispered insults. It only served to bolster Timmy’s confidence that his disguise was garnering the intended reactions.

  Near a table stacked with fruit and pastries, the trio begged the pardon of a compacted clutch of friends, hoping they would part for a moment to let the duchess and her men pass by.

  “Excuse, Sir,” Bugs grunted in a thick Italian accent as he tapped a tall slender man on the shoulder.

  The fellow swung about to see who had spoken to him, and there, standing face-to-face with Bugs was none other than John Smith. Genny was at his side, held fast by the wrist as always. The rest of the So-Sos rounded out the gang.

  “Excuse you indeed,” Smith responded with classic conceit. He gazed at Timmy, and worry immediately began to set in. Smith looked long and hard at Wicketts’ Angelina. His eyes were fixated and face devoid of expression. Timmy knew Smith could see through the disguise. He knew his cover was blown. He thought of turning to hide his face, but did not, fearing the action would be a sure sign of deceit.

  Smith cracked a widening smile and took a sly step toward the duchess. The end was near.

  “Madame, may I say you are absolutely stunning.” Smith bowed his head in reverence.

  Timmy was shocked. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied in charismatic Italian fashion. “Sir, dare I say I know you. Are you not John Smith, the world-renowned actor and master of The Illegitimate Sons of Sophocles?”

  Timmy knew Smith well, and he knew compliments were very disarming. The best way to get Smith’s focus away from the costumed Timmy was to direct it upon Smith himself. There was no person more intriguing to John Smith than John Smith.

  “Why yes, I am John Smith. It’s a pleasure to meet a fan.” His chest puffed, now filled with ego.

  “Ah, I thought so. Did you know your troupe has a small, but fervent, following in Italy?"

  Smith was happily surprised to receive the fib, but his machismo conveyed an air of expectance. “Oh, that is nice to hear. We have many fans all over the world,” he stated, adding a lie of his own to the conversation.

  “I would think so. But rest assured, no one loves you more than the Italians. You should truly consider moving your act there on a permanent basis.” Timmy hoped Smith would actually consider the relocation.

  “Duchess,” Bugs interrupted, “we must move on.”

  “It was a pleasure, Mr. Smith.”

  “The same.” Smith placed a kiss upon Angelina Josephina’s hand.

  As Timmy, Bugs and Brock continued toward the mayor, Timmy looked back. Smith was discussing the promising prospect of life in Italy with his So-So cronies. Genny, however, was staring directly at the departing duchess. They gazed at one another, and Timmy could not resist. He gave Ms. Jenkins a wink and a smile. Genny’s eyes bulged with surprise before giving way to a satisfying smile of revelation.

  “May I present her Duchess Angelina Josephina,” Brock announced, now in the presence of Percival Snodgrass. Percival excused himself from the conversation in which he was engaged, and turned his attention toward the Duchess.

  He took her hand and warmly kissed it, as
the previous acquaintances had. “It is my pleasure, Duchess. I saw your late addition to the guest list, and I must say, we are honored to have such an esteemed figure visiting our humble town of Upper Southrump.”

  “Why thank you, Mayor.” Timmy curtseyed with grace, batting his long eyelashes at Percival.

  The mayor glanced around the room for a moment. Bugs watched his actions carefully and realized the mayor was attempting to locate his wife, Madison. Both men saw her far away, talking with the chief constable and his wife.

  “Duchess, had we more forewarning, we would have laid out the red carpet for you.” Percival was now giving Timmy a thorough looking over.

  “Oh Mayor, that is hardly a necessity. My visit is one of business, not leisure.”

  “Why not both?” Snodgrass grinned. His face revealed intended innuendo.

  Timmy could tell Percival was taking the bait. He pushed further.

  “Mayor, I have heard you are a collector of fine artifacts and works. It has been said you even possess a few items of Italian heritage. The people of my province have desire to establish a partnership with you and Upper Southrump. We, too, value art and culture and wish to propose a collection exchange.”

  “That is an interesting proposition, Duchess,” Percival was only half-hearing Timmy’s words. Angelina Josephina’s looks and soft voice were stirring the mayor’s more primal instincts.

  “I should wish to see your collection, Mayor Snodgrass. We can then determine what items may be of worthy display back in Italy. In turn, you should come to my province and do the same. We could hold joint art exhibitions that would both fill the coffers and illuminate the minds. Mayor, may I see your collection?” Timmy delivered the last line as suggestively as possible.

  “Oh, yes you may. I have one piece in particular I hope you would find pleasing.” The comment was delivered without confusion.

  The mayor again scanned the room. He noted Madison still in conversation and decided his window of opportunity was present.

  “Come with me, Duchess,” Percival said coyly as he gently grabbed Timmy by the hand.

  Timmy ordered his escorts to stay back, a pre-arranged cue signaling them to give him ten minutes alone with the mayor before following. All three Perfects were ecstatic Snodgrass had so willingly and easily taken the bait. Now it was up to Timmy to reel in the catch.

  The collection was housed in a large study on the second floor of the mansion. The mayor had it secured during the gala for fear an inebriated guest might confuse it for the lavatory. He drew a key from his pocket and unlocked the cherry wood door. Once inside, he turned the latch, sealing himself and the Duchess inside. As the mayor moved further into the room, Timmy quickly undid the bolt once more with swift secrecy.

  Percival Snodgrass playfully strolled through a line of pedestals upon which sculptures and busts stood on display. “As you can see, Duchess, my collection is fairly expansive.” He took a seat upon an antique ottoman. “Please have a look.”

  Timmy walked the length of the room, feigning interest in the art. He took his time to act out contemplation and intense examination.

  “You should know that piece, Duchess. It is a Giovanni Bellini, and a fine one at that.”

  Timmy looked at the painting to which Percival was referring. “Oh yes, very fine.” He had no idea it was a Bellini.

  As he continued to look at the contents of the room, he made his way over to the mayor, flashing a teasing look here and there.

  “Here, have a seat next to me,” Percival offered, tapping the fine upholstery. Timmy obliged.

  “This ottoman is believed to be of ancient Egyptian origin. The man I got it from even suggested it spent some time in the possession of Elizabeth Hamilton, Countess of Orkney, and was housed in her bedroom. I can’t verify that fact, but if it is true, imagine the things it must have seen.”

  Timmy pretended to blush at the remark as he wove his web of womanly charms. He then locked eyes with Percival and slid a bit closer to him.

  “Duchess Angelina, I think your proposition for partaking of one another’s treasures is a fine one,” Percival said as he slid his arm slowly around Timmy’s shoulders.

  “As do I, Mayor. Your collection is superb and worthy of exhibition in the grandest halls of Italia.”

  “Then it is almost settled. All that remains is a formal act of agreement.”

  Percival gazed longingly at Angelina Josephina for a moment and then lunged in, planting a sloppy wet kiss upon the man-duchess’ rosy red lips. A weird mix of disgust and satisfaction coursed through Timmy’s body. This is exactly what he needed to happen, but it was thoroughly unpleasant to be sure. Still, his committed inner actor would not let him spoil the deceit. He embraced Percival and went with it.

  Pausing only momentarily to take a breath, Snodgrass’ lustful appetite increased. He was now staring directly at Angelina’s bosom as he wet his lips with a lizard-like tongue. “You have the taste of sweet nectar, the voluptuousness of ripe fruit.”

  Timmy fought hard to hold back a giggle, for his bosom was, in fact, fruit—two large and soft grapefruits.

  “Dear Mayor, your words are like wine, flowing and intoxicating.”

  Percival was fully enamored at this point. He leaned in once more and tore open the back of Timmy’s gown. Worried that the further undressing of his character would reveal the truth, Timmy turned toward Snodgrass, unbuckling his belt and thrusting him back upon the ottoman. The act of womanly aggression set Percival’s desires ablaze.

  “Yes, Duchess, do your worst,” he demanded.

  Timmy placed another kiss upon his neck and then slid slowly down, dropping the mayor’s drawers. He cast a devious smile and fiery glance toward the prone politician, and at that precise moment, the study door swung open and Madison, accompanied by Bugs and Brock, entered the room.

  An audible gasp echoed throughout the chamber as Madison stood speechless in the doorway. The mayor and Duchess were frozen in a very suggestive and compromising position.

  Percival stuttered to explain. “Madison, my love, this isn’t… I mean, the Duchess and I were only…”

  A growing fury was rising in Madison’s stomach. “These men were interested in seeing our art collection, but I can see you were already in the midst of a private showing! You pig!”

  Percival leapt to his feet, frantically tugging at his britches. He stumbled, with arms outstretched and pleading, as he approached his wife.

  “No, my dear, we were only…”

  “Seconds away from full nudity!” Madison shouted.

  Timmy acted the part of a shamed mistress caught in the act. He averted his gaze from Madison and slowly crept toward the exit. As he passed by the shouting wife of the mayor, she would not even look at him, only whispering, “whore” as he slinked by.

  Bugs and Brock quickly escorted Timmy from the room. As they continued speedily down the hallway, they could hear Madison giving Percival more than an ear full. Vile name-calling and promises of ruin were thrust like daggers into the mayor’s cheating heart. Madison’s distressed tone could even be heard downstairs, and the sound sent her father, Admiral Dottingburn Strutney, sprinting to see what had caused the commotion.

  Duchess Josephina and her men boarded their carriage as quickly as possible. Brock took the reins, and within moments, they were off. Inside the coach, Timmy and Bugs shared a laugh of relief. The plan had worked superbly thus far. It was perhaps their most important performance to date, and each man prayed the fallout would yield a royally perfect result.

  The following day’s Ballyhoo said it all, MAYOR’S MANSION RIDDLED IN SCANDAL. The heading was the best news the Perfects had heard in days. Sitting in Lester’s, around a table full of breakfast loaves, all the men listened as Smirks read the story aloud.

  The report contained the illicit details of the previous night’s disgraceful affair between the Mayor and a visiting Italian dignitary. It explained how the Mayor’s own wife had caught them red-hande
d and was currently filing formal papers for divorce. Admiral Dottingburn Strutney had deemed the incident the most contemptible act of dishonor to which his family had ever been subjected. Not only was it a crude and distasteful move perpetrated by a husband, it was clearly not indicative of the values to be demonstrated by the highest-ranking position in all of Upper Southrump. The article ended with a formal call for the resignation and disbarment of Mayor Percival Snodgrass.

  It was music to the Perfects’ ears, and everyone shouted their happiness.

  Between bites of bread, Timmy stood to address his friends.

  “A fine job, fellas. Fantastic! We now have the Mayor exactly where we want him. It’s only a matter of time before he buckles under the pressure of public disapproval. With the Strutney house now at odds with Percival, his political power is all but dead. That will leave an interesting opportunity for us. We have to be prepared to support a Perfect-friendly successor to the position, and I know just the man. He could gain sympathy from the Strutneys because he, too, had been wronged by Percival. I propose we suggest Gabriel Goldhand as the next mayor of Upper Southrump.”

  “I second that,” Bugs said emphatically.

  “It would be a logical choice,” added Snoots. “Gabriel Goldhand has ample qualifications. He was a long-standing and successful businessman prior to being shut down by Snodgrass. His taverns have allowed him to schmooze and connect with hundreds of Upper Southrumpians. He’s shown keen judgment and well-reasoned risk.”

  “That’s for sure, he risked a lot on us,” Romeo chimed in.

  “So, unless anyone has an objection, I’ll take the idea to Mr. Goldhand,” stated Timmy.

  Not a single concern was uttered amongst the group, only nods of agreement. Hope had been reborn within the thespian troupe.

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