by Ginn Hale
“I shan’t take offense,” Archie replied.
Pugg appeared to relax slightly then, so maybe it had just been a matter of having three aces tucked under the broad cuffs of his shirt.
“Oh, never fear,” Lupton said as he shuffled the cards. “Archibald here is a great sport. He even let Charlie claim a tie after a boxing match, when we could all see half Charlie’s stuffing had been knocked out of him.”
As Lupton dealt, Nimble declared his great admiration for the elderly Mr. Burns. Apparently, the magician originally hailed from the same ward of Hells Below as Nimble and was still highly regarded there for having once performed for the young Queen. That was as near as any Prodigal could hope to come to a world tour. The old man grinned when Nimble admitted that as a lad, he’d scorched his eyebrows on several occasions attempting to swallow fire as Burns had so famously done.
Archie accepted his cards, noting that Pugg immediately switched one of his out, while Burns hardly glanced at his own hand. He appeared far too taken with Nimble.
“Oh, it’s all catching bullets nowadays,” Burns said, and he pointed his crooked index finger like the muzzle of a pistol and pretended to fire at his own chipped front teeth.
“Fire a real pistol for the audience. Then your assistant switches it for a fake?” Nimble asked.
“Of course,” Burns replied. “The tricky bit is slipping the spent bullet into your mouth while you’re tying on the blindfold…”
“No, the tricky bit comes when some drunken sot staggers onto stage and demands to take a shot with his own iron barker,” Pugg put in.
Alarm at the notion zinged through Archie. Nimble, too, looked horrified. But to Archie’s surprise, Burns laughed and Lupton grinned.
“You should have known it was contrived, Pugg,” Burns said. “Though your stricken expression did thrill the entire audience.”
“Lady Wedmoor looked like she was going to rush the stage and murder me!” Lupton told Archie. Out of the corner of his eye, Archie noticed Burns shift ever so slightly on his elbows. He felt certain the motion had hidden Pugg passing him a card.
“What’s your game, then?” Burns inquired of Nimble, who as far as Archie could tell was playing the hand dealt him and showing no sign of Archie’s own desire to cheat even a little.
“I dabble in quick changes, as no one expects a cove my size to move too fast, but recently I’ve been trying to work out a disappearing girl routine.”
Both Pugg and Burns scowled.
“That’s all props and trap doors. Nothing of the real art to it,” Burns said dismissively.
“Oh, but it never does hurt to have a pretty lady on stage. She draws the eye and everyone wants her to come back. She gives an act a compelling sort of story, doesn’t she?” Lupton commented. He gazed at one of the passing dancers, but then returned his attention to his hand of cards. “You know, the trick I can never work out is the reverse of the rabbit coming out of a hat. The one where the magician stuffs rabbits back in. I keep expecting that the creatures ought to kick the hat over.”
“Nah. You just train them right,” Pugg responded, and Archie felt certain the man was being facetious. As Archie understood it, the trick was to use dead rabbits, which were obliging of any amount of manhandling.
After that, the conversation skimmed over a number of subjects, from newly opened ice cream shops to the Queen’s decision to at long last entertain the Nornian ambassador at her palace.
“We’re all going to have to brush up on our Nornic at court, I suppose.” Lupton frowned and Archie understood. It was hard to feel any warmth toward a nation he’d nearly died fighting, and at the same time, they all wanted peace. Lupton’s gaze met Archie’s, and surprisingly he smiled. “But you know, before the war, the Wedmoors owned lands over there. Charles and Agatha both vacationed there as nippers, so Agatha could school you in the language, I’d imagine…. Come to it, I suppose Charlie could as well.”
“If this ambassador becomes a permanent fixture, I suppose I will need tutoring,” Archie replied. “Only phrases I ever learned would certainly be inappropriate for the Queen’s court.”
That earned him a laugh, and they played on. Burns won the first three hands and Pugg the next two, by which time Archie had to concentrate so as not to slip into the habit of counting cards or secreting any away when it came his turn to deal. He lost with good grace, though it made him want to gnash his teeth. It must have shown to some extent, because Nimble cast him a look of amused camaraderie at one point.
Actors, actresses, singers, and dancers came and went around them. Most greeted Lupton warmly. A few flirted with Archie or teased Nimble about joining their company. Burns looked on and offered advice with the air of a sage elder. The stage hands in particular were keen to hear his thoughts.
Throughout it all, Pugg chatted and cheated with a blithe smile on his pretty face. He gave away very little that Archie could see as suspicious. Since all of the Prodigal entertainers appeared to know one another, the fact that the people who’d disappeared had met Pugg seemed to wane in significance.
And it was growing late. Soon the green velvet seats would fill with club members, and Archie’s place would be out there among them. He folded while the others played out this last hand. Behind Pugg, the three deerhounds seemed to sense the hour as well. They stood and stretched, yawned open huge gaping mouths filled with long white teeth. They truly were immense animals, originally bred not just to hunt stags, but to hold off wolves that might attempt to claim the kills for their own. Of course, wolves were all long dead, but the huge hounds lived on. Archie wondered how Pugg managed to convince these three brindle-coated beasts to wear the elaborate costumes he paraded them around the stage in.
Train them right. Yes, that was likely the answer.
By chance Archie’s gaze fell on the letters etched into the steel of the cages. At first glance he read it as Pugg. But there was something not quite right about the messy engraving of blossoms that followed the name. And the top of the capitol P was slightly too scalloped, almost as if adornments had been scratched in over a different letter. An F, Archie realized, and once he saw that, he easily picked the rest of the name out from beneath the flurry of blossoms: Fuggas.
***
Archie paid terribly little attention to the actual performances, despite his best efforts. The strange pleasure of being able to sit so very close to Nimble in the darkened theater distracted him. Every so often his hand grazed Nimble’s. Nimble’s leg nudged against his occasionally. He was reminded of the winter nights they’d shared blankets and foxholes. Only cannons weren’t firing now, nor were either of them shaking with cold. No, they were warm, comfortable, and companionable. Such simple luxuries likely went unnoticed by the majority of the club members surrounding them, but Archie felt the enormity of them as a sharp flush of happiness. He wished this moment would never end, the lights never come up again.
But all too soon the performers took their final bows and applause quieted. The house lights, dozens of little gaslights on the walls, blazed to life. Archie felt Nimble’s weight shift away from him, a slight chill crawling in where the heat of Nimble’s calf had rested against his own.
In the seat to Archie’s right, Lupton gave a few more claps. Then he gestured to someone across the room. Charles Wedmoor, Archie thought, though he couldn’t be certain.
“What a show!” Lupton turned his attention back to Archie and Nimble. “I sponsor Lilly Vale and her father, Dickey, so my opinion may be a little biased, but by God, I swear Lilly is just as talented as any of the girls currently entertaining the Queen or touring the great cities!”
“I won’t argue with you,” Nimble replied. “Fine pipes on that bird, and not a bad set of lungs on her dad either.”
Both of them looked to Archie. He couldn’t for the life of him remember if Lilly had been the vivacious blonde soprano or the lively brunette. Both hit notes like sharpshooters shattering the highest-flying clay pigeons.
“Yes. Very impressive,” Archie said.
Really the only acts he’d watched attentively had been Pugg’s and those moments when Pugg had donned a white satin mask to play the role of Burns’s assistant. He wondered what Nimble had been paying attention to and what he’d seen through the gloom that Archie had missed. Perhaps he ought to accompany Nimble back to the Briar, where they could be alone and discuss matters. The bed there was comfortable so, if the hour grew late, then perhaps they could lie together for a few hours and maybe….
Archie rose from his seat. Nimble stretched, his limbs testing the strength of his chair. Then he, too, stood. He cast Archie a sidelong look that seemed particularly hungry. They’d neither of them had any supper. Maybe they could snatch up a couple of pasties on their way back to the Briar Hotel. If they were fish-filled, it would no doubt offer Nimble the opportunity to recite another poem.
“Charlie!” Lupton called, and Archie’s attention lurched back to his current surroundings as Charles Wedmoor approached. He wore a smile like death rictus and looked to Archie like he’d lost more than one round in the boxing ring quite recently. A tiny sprig of snapdragons poked up from the buttonhole of his charcoal satin jacket.
“Lupton, Archibald! Just the gentlemen I was hoping to see.” Charles didn’t quite meet Archie’s gaze. “Would you care to join me for brandy and cards at Wright’s? We could take my carriage before everyone else—”
“The company sounds delightful,” Lupton answered over Charles’s mumbling about busy streets. “But I don’t see why we should decamp when there’s cards and plenty of fine brandy to be had right here. On top of that, I’ve found Wright’s terribly iniquitous. They won’t allow Lilly to accompany me in, and I’m certain they’d turn up their noses at Archie’s friend, Mr. Hobbs, here. I don’t fancy spending my coins there.”
Charles took in Nimble’s presence as if he was a specter materialized from the ether. “Oh. I hadn’t realized that Archibald had managed to….”
“Fascinating fellow, Charlie! A stage magician and a poet!” Lupton waved his hand, and a nearby servant placed a snifter of brandy in his grasp. “He even sent the older Granville slithering away. That cad, Silas, had the gall to sound off about how edifying we must have all found the bloody damn war.”
“Yes. I think I heard something about that.” Charles words came out flat, but he smiled and thrust his hand out to Nimble. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Charles Wedmoor, Lord Umberry. But everyone here calls me Charlie.”
Archie couldn’t recall Wedmoor ever before introducing himself to a Prodigal instead of waiting for another club member to provide his name and title. There was something almost apologetic about his tone. Archie wondered if Lupton’s objection to Wright’s had shamed him a little.
“Nimble Hobbs.” Nimble shook his hand. “Hobbs, if you like. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Archibald has said very good things.”
“Has he?” Charles stole a quick glance to Archie. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint. We shall stay here and play.”
After that, Archie supposed they were required to tromp over to the smoky card room if only to demonstrate that they weren’t the sort of pigs who’d exclude a man like Nimble or a woman like Lilly. A few hands of cards wasn’t the worst fate to face, nor the card room a dank sty. The paintings adorning the walls were beautiful, and the dishes of mustard and sausages, as well as oysters, were generous. The crowd of gamblers and onlookers exuded a noisy air of boozy geniality.
Lilly Vale—the lively brunette, as it turned out—joined their company, as did her vivacious blonde friend Gina Wydly. Both of them did an admirable job of picking up any lulls in the conversation and smoothing over the charged moments when Charles tossed down his cards in frustration but then insisted they all continue to yet another hand.
A number of other Prodigal women, many still wearing stage makeup, circulated between the tables where male club members sat drinking and gambling. Archie noted that one seemed to linger a little too long near their table before hurrying back to the dark corner where Silas sat brooding over his port. Nate and Mike stood to either side of him, while a stocky man in in his fifties hunched in front of Silas. Something about the man’s tweed clothes and the display of gin blossoms spread across his nose reminded Archie of the dozens of old sports forever on hand at country houses, harrying the maids and riding their horses lame at hunting parties. Whatever the man had gotten into, Archie imagined Silas would blackmail him for every penny in his possession. Or perhaps the payment had been made already, because the man gave a quick nod and then skulked away.
Archie turned his attention to his own company.
Across the table from him, Nimble appeared preoccupied with the framed seascape hanging on the far wall. Lupton drank and rambled from subject to subject. Lilly and Gina shepherded his gossip away from any real scandals and covered his gaffes with jokes and gentle flirtation. Archie warmed to the two of them greatly for that. Charles played his hands poorly and shifted in his seat so often that Archie wondered if he’d become afflicted by piles.
Archie limited himself to winning only every third hand. He found Gina and Lilly delightful conversationalists, though twice Nimble took it on himself to kick Archie under the table.
After an hour, Silas’s spy contrived to spill a little of her sherry on Charles’s sleeve. She apologized and fluttered around Charles quite believably. Charles made a stiff show of excusing himself to clean up, and then slunk back to Silas’s table. Nimble arched a brow at Charles’s retreat and Lupton shook his head sadly.
“Don’t think too badly of him,” Lupton said. “He gets jumpy now and then. Been that way ever since the war, you know.”
“He served?” Nimble asked.
“Oh yes! Charles and I were both cavalry. He got thrown early on, poor fellow. Ended up in some god-awful hospital, which the Nornians overran right away, of course.” Lupton’s expression turned almost bleak for a moment, and then he took a long drink of his brandy. “A Prodigal nurse stayed to tend him and the other wounded. Charlie swears that she was the only reason he survived, and the reason he started this club.”
“Nurse Fuggas?” Archie asked, because her name was in his mind; he’d been thinking that she was the right look and age to be Pugg’s sister. Now he recalled that she’d served in the war, as well.
“Yes. Well, no, not the Nurse Fuggas who works here now,” Lupton replied. “Her younger sister, Lucia. Prettiest thing you ever saw. Died before the war ended. Don’t know that Charles ever got over that, really….”
There was a quiet at the table. Both Lilly and Gina opened their mouths to speak, but Lupton went on in a lighter tone.
“Myself, I only saw action twice. Lost my horse to shelling both times. Then our regiment was ordered off to sunny Applebrooke to amuse the local milkmaids and put on parades to buoy public morale. Meanwhile, our infantry—” Lupton cut himself off as he looked to Archie and then Nimble. “Well, I don’t have to tell either of you, do I?”
Archie shook his head.
“Cavalry wouldn’t have fared well at Sollum, in any case.” Nimble took another card. Queen of hearts, if Archie’s count was correct, which set him up with four of a kind. “Wouldn’t have been enough cover or feed for the horses,” Nimble went on. “Certainly no point in sacrificing men and animals in direct charges against those Nornian guns. The only way for it was to make them come up after us and then knock them back down the hill. We just had to keep doing it until they had nothing left.”
“I suppose so.” Lupton swirled his brandy. “Still, I can’t help but feel like there should have been something more we could have done. Other than bother milkmaids.”
“I’m sure you amused parlor maids and goose girls, as well,” Lilly suggested. “You were certainly wiser to spend time entertaining them than wasting your pay for a clap from a Gold Street seamstress, I’d say.”
Archie smiled at her play of words, Nimble inclined his head as i
f awarding the woman a point on some invisible scoreboard, and Lupton laughed. They all turned their attention back to the cards. Archie won the hand, and Nimble gazed at him as if pondering whether he wanted to make the next round a challenge.
Then Charles returned. He appeared more agitated than before and more intent that they should all depart for a different club. Maybe slum it at the Crone’s Crib. Archie had no intention of padding along to whatever dark corner Silas had prepared for him, and he was also past tired of the Dee Club.
“Kind as your offer is, Charles, I’m afraid I must decline. My bed calls with her siren song.”
“I ought to be on my way, as well.” Nimble, too, stood and added in a stage whisper, “I’m hoping to prevail upon the most generous Viscount Fallmont to offer me a jaunt in his carriage. Certainly his four-in-hand offers a far more handsome conveyance than my own two-on-foot.”
Even Charles smiled at Nimble’s turn of phrase, though it was a tired smile.
“If he won’t give you a ride, Mr. Hobbs,” Gina said with a wink, “I’m sure there’s one or two others here who will.”
Archie caught her eye, recognized the friendliness in her expression, and didn’t bother to pretend to take offense. Charles, on the other hand, seemed disturbed and spent nearly a minute offering to lend Nimble use of his carriage and, failing that, the comfort of his personal rooms at the club.
“I won’t be staying, so you could certainly sleep there for the night….”
Even Lupton—inebriated as he must have been after so much brandy—gave Charles a quizzical look. Nimble simply smiled and repeated that he was flattered but wouldn’t want to take advantage.
Archie put an end to it by gathering his winnings and starting for the door. “Coming, Mr. Hobbs?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Right behind you, my lord,” Nimble replied. “Lead on!”
Outside the club it was dark but not too quiet. The river roared and ships’ bells sounded. Bats chased insects around distant streetlamps, and black clouds of coal smoke billowed from a multitude of industrious chimneys.
