angelic_gabe (angelic_gabe) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-08-14 23:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | bertie eden, gabriel allen, leah allen |
Who: Gabriel Allen, Leah Allen, Bertie Eden, and Miss Lydia (NPC)
What: In Which Bertie Queries, Miss Lydia Passes Judgement, Leah is Frustrated, and Gabriel Creates a Diversion
Where: Miss Lydia's
When: 8 August, 1888 [Backdated]
Rating: PG-13
News of the gruesome stabbing in Whitechapel spread quickly, so much so that Bertie knew about it even before he burst through the Night Watch’s doors for his morning shift and Jamie said unhappily, “There’s been a murder.”
Bertie had gone out to the site to see if the victim had left a ghost behind, but there was nothing, no witnesses, and after that the inspectors assured him that he was mainly underfoot. There was no proof that this was even a supernatural case; no one knew the victim to declare it one way or another.
She might have been a newly-arrived mermaid, which led Bertie and a reluctant Cavendish out to the docks for the second time that week, but they found nothing out of the ordinary. There were no leads, no suspects, and nothing, at that point, to investigate.
As soon as his shift ended, Bertie had a bite to eat while he waited for the evening establishments to open, and then took himself to Miss Lydia’s Music Academy.
He’d been here before, twice now; the first time to ask for help with Lord Black’s inquiries, and the second to follow-up. During that second visit, he’d been given the distinct impression that he ought to sample the wares or cease taking up room in the shop, which had kept him away in the intervening weeks. Bertie wasn’t opposed to a pleasant tumble, but he’d recently parted with a considerable amount of money to pay a witch who had been worth every penny, and besides that, it rather ruined his argument of being a trustworthy confidant to go around bedding the ladies he was hoping would trust him.
It was a pity, though. There were some truly lovely ladies.
The loveliest of all, he saw as soon as he entered, and he hadn’t realized the extent of his tension until he saw her whole and well, and a little of it left his shoulders. There was no reason to think any of the women here would have come to harm, but fear wasn’t always rational.
“Miss Vicky,” Bertie greeted her, relief in his voice. He made his customary half-bow in the doorway to the parlor. “I’m glad to see you well.”
Leah’d heard about the murder of course, and the relief in Inspector Eden’s voice wasn’t a surprise. While not the largest headline in the paper it was the subject of just about every conversation between the denizens of the Music Academy that day.
She wasn’t particularly worried about the death of one street walker, though god knew she felt horrible about what had happened to the poor woman. Hopefully the murderer would be swiftly identified and sent to the gallows. Some of the more ‘full time’ members of the Academy were less sanguine about the incident, but bad things were known to happen on the street.
It was just another reason to be thankful for the shelter of the Academy, everyone agreed on that.
“Inspector Eden, it’s good to see you again.” She hadn’t been here the second time he’d visited the Academy, but Leah’d heard all about it. Miss Lydia had (extremely politely, she was told) instructed him not to return unless he was actually intending to be a paying customer, so she was a bit surprised to see him here.
"And you. I won't stay long, I only wanted to see that everyone is all right. Is everyone all right?" He'd have expected a very different atmosphere if they hadn't been, but making assumptions was a dangerous business.
Bertie moved close enough to lower his voice, without taking a seat as if he intended to stay. "Miss Vicky--I understand very well that some of your colleagues have every reason not to speak to the authorities, and I would respect their wishes, but the young woman in the news hasn't been identified. If she belongs to, ah, a community here--"
Bertie still wasn't certain which of the young ladies was supernatural, and if so in which way. It seemed an impossible thing to ask outright, but it left him at a disadvantage in these conversations.
Left with few options and well-aware of the imminent presence of the formidable madame of the house, Bertie offered hastily, "I would pay for their time. And privacy, for the conversation."
Perhaps, he thought hopefully, he had been approaching this incorrectly, and one of the women would speak with him if she knew she wouldn't lose money or incur the madame's wrath by doing so.
Miss Lydia was keeping a steady eye on the goings-on with the eager Mr Eden -- she was nothing if not observant, and while none of her girls knew the unfortunate, recent events had put her teeth on edge and made her less tolerant of potential threats.
She tended to look askance at young men as a general rule -- even towards the ones who were monied enough to be able to afford the going rate at her establishment. Young men were impressionable creatures, far too easily driven by their passions; they could vacillate between callousness and deep, sometimes frightening jealousy and possessiveness at the drop of a hat, and she’d had to bar more than a few from the premise who’d gotten too involved.
Mr Eden had all the trappings of the capacity for letting things get to his head -- but thus far, he’d been an annoyance moreso than a true worry, and she knew her establishment’s existence was tolerated by the Night Watch in a way she didn’t wish to jeopardize -- unlike establishments of a more mundane variety, there was no need for bribes, or special going rates for law enforcement, an arrangement she’d rather avoid.
The investigator’s attentions to Leah -- ‘Vicky’ -- were also a matter requiring greater scrutiny; the safety of her employer’s daughter’s reputation was paramount, and excessive attention by a party who might be motivated and have the means to make more pointed inquiries about her identity was troublesome.
She raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips upon overhearing his suggestion, not knowing quite how to take it -- it was possibly a laughably transparent attempt to bed one of her girls in the name of an investigation, but she didn’t care for the thought that he’d try to question one of them alone. Not one bit. Especially if it was Leah Allen.
She shot Leah a significant look -- while the young succubus didn’t have the same degree of understanding that Lydia shared with her father, the intention was clear enough. If you want to be rid of him, I will toss him out, she communicated with a tip of her chin and a fierce snap to her eyes.
For the time being, however, she kept her tongue.
Leah caught the glance and understood it for what it meant. Her reply was roll of her eyes and a slight shrug when Bertie wasn’t looking. It’s up to you. So far he seemed harmless enough, but Leah’d leave that decision in Lydia’s more experienced hands. If he crossed the line the madam would probably have a better idea of that than Leah herself.
“Miss Lydia looks after our interests as well, Inspector.” She chided Bertie in a mild tone, more a reminder or correction than truly being irritated with him. The young inspector reminded her of a puppy, all eager and full of enthusiasm but perhaps not very experienced in the world. Of course, the same could be said about her to some degree. “But I’m sure payment for our time wouldn’t go amiss. As far as I know the poor thing wasn’t a member of any...group, but I wouldn’t claim to have all the information on what happens in the area.”
"I should have brought a gift," Bertie mourned, although the ladies would surely appreciate good coin more than a box of chocolates. He hesitated briefly, then decided, "I will leave something with the mad--with Miss Lydia, in apology for taking up your time. If you should learn of anyone who should like to...ah, sing, privately, for me, I would of course be glad to pay for their time."
An informant of any kind in a high-profile murder case that had no leads was something Bertie felt fairly confident that he could expense. Even if it had the appearance of being payment for a tumble in a brothel.
"Thank you," Bertie finished with a quick sigh of relief. "I won't trouble you further. You still have my card--I wouldn't wish to continue being an uninvited guest."
And then it was incredibly difficult not to glance around the parlor, to take in the ladies in their revealing gowns, with their knowing smiles and likely experienced hands. Bertie hadn't been with a woman in months, since his father had unquestionably ended Bertie's affair with the also-experienced Mrs Pemberton. He couldn't say that their charms weren't tempting.
Lydia sniffed a little and relaxed some, only to straighten her spine once more at none other than Mr Gabriel coming into the room.
She knew the man as well as she knew herself, and saw his usually easy gaze narrow a fraction upon seeing Mr Eden, and a slight pause in his step before shooting a glance her way and raising an eyebrow. So he recognized the young man, then. She tipped her shoulders slightly, willing to play it however he thought best and knowing the musicians would be canny enough to take his lead, and he grinned by way of reply as he walked further into the room.
Leah’s occasional presence at Miss Lydia’s still required a bit of an adjustment -- he had to be scrupulous about not showing her too much attention, and he knew it was more than a little challenging for her to have him there to witness her at work.
He wasn’t however, anticipating Bertie.
The sight of the young investigator talking to his daughter gave him bit of a pause and a glance Lydia’s way before he made his way over.
“Mr Eden!” He called out, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Leah had to restrain herself from getting up and walking away as her father walked up to the young Inspector. The signs were obvious enough by Gabriel’s reaction that they’d been involved at one point or another. Honestly, was there a man her father hadn’t slept with in her orbit at the moment?
She didn’t quite know what to say or do, and glanced over at Miss Lydia while the men were distracted with each other as if to say get me out of this?
Bertie jumped at the unexpected touch, twisting and nearly falling backward into Miss Vicky, and the sight of who had come up behind him only made him flail further, arms windmilling in surprise.
"Mr Allen!" Bertie's eyes went wide, and he froze up, tongue-tied in his inability to explain his presence here, uncertain if he even needed to give an explanation or make an excuse, and knowing that even if he did, making a guilty apology to a gentleman for enjoying the company of young ladies would only attract bewilderment and suspicion, especially when Bertie had yet to sample the charms of any of these particular ladies.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, grasping after words before he realized that Mr Allen might also know the reputation of this particular brothel, and therefore would understand Bertie's business here. Regrettably, he still had not recovered his footing, and in his desperation not to fall onto or accidentally strike Miss Vicky, he ended up overbalancing and falling face-first into Mr Allen's chest.
The irrepressible Mr Eden did seem to have a habit of careening about. Gabriel couldn’t quite tell if he was off-balance due to him, or whether it was simply a general part of his nature -- but he managed to grab Bertie’s elbow to keep him from falling to the floor and let him get his feet under him a bit, and gave Leah an apologetic shrug.
“Apologies for taking you by surprise,” he said, smiling a little as he looked down. The circumstances were awkward, no doubt, for a few different reasons, but at least the flailing gave him time to gather his thoughts a bit more. “Come now,” he said, giving Bertie’s arm a pat, “no harm done, I hope. Ankle still intact?”
Lydia, meanwhile, took the opportunity for the commotion to swoop in. “Vicky, dear,” she said, looking up at the young Miss Allen, “A word regarding your next appointment for the evening, when you’ve the chance.”
She sniffed a little as she looked up at Mr Eden, who was gawping like a fish, and raised an arch eyebrow.
“Of course Miss Lydia!” Leah jumped up from her spot on the couch, then curtsied (as ridiculous as that was in what she had on, it was still good manners) “Mr. Gabriel, sir. Inspector.” With that she made a hasty escape toward the diminutive madam, though she and her father would end up having a long talk about this, she was sure.
"Miss Vicky," Bertie replied courteously, flushing a bit in embarrassment. Miss Lydia's disapproval had cast his eyes downward, but he looked back up at Gabriel a moment later. "Hello."
Bertie's smile was tentative, and there was a hint of apology along with the unhappiness in his voice when he lowered his voice and explained quietly, "I wanted to check in, after the news this morning. I was hoping that someone here might have a story they hadn't told, about...attacks," he temporized, with a glance to the side to see whether any ladies were still close. He sighed quietly. "So far, no one has spoken to me."
The ladies' easy familiarity with Gabriel struck him a moment later, and while he wasn't surprised - Gabriel was an incubus, and a healthy man, of course he must indulge certain appetites - it did seem slightly odd that among them, Miss Vicky, Miss Lydia, and the other ladies in the parlor were all ignoring such a well-dressed and handsome customer. Not avoiding, as if they didn't wish to...ah, sing...for him, but rather as if they didn't feel the need to welcome and seduce him.
That was interesting.
Bertie's smile quirked a little, losing its uncertainty. "Perhaps I should have asked you to make inquiries on my behalf. You certainly seem to be at home here."
“Ah,” Gabriel replied, tipping his head to one of the unoccupied couches and raising an eyebrow in an invitation. “Here on official business, then? I’m not surprised they’re a little wary,” he replied, not unkindly.
The murder at Whitechapel had been an unpleasant business, and he was sending out feelers of his own -- a touch more discreetly, of course -- but he hadn’t heard much beyond the first round of newspaper reports. “It was rather terrible, wasn’t it?” He added, frowning. “Have you reason to believe the poor unfortunate wasn’t human?”
He shrugged off Bertie’s query with a hearty laugh. “And Mr Eden, of course I’m at home here. It’s a fine place to put up one’s feet, and I am a great lover of music.” He shrugged. “I can ask around, if you’d like,” he said, taking the opportunity to settle on the sofa himself, and reach for some champagne.
"Thank you, but perhaps it's better that they're not suspicious of you, and may talk more freely. If you do hear anything..." Bertie paused in the process of sitting, casting an immediate wary glance toward where Miss Lydia had retreated with Miss Vicky. Upon not seeing her narrow-eyed glare, he cautiously eased the rest of the way down. "Ah...sorry, that is to say, I would like to hear about it. If it wouldn't be breaking any confidences."
Bertie glanced around the parlor again before answering Gabriel's question. "There's currently no cause to believe it's anything but a human matter, no. But as...other...communities tend to be more tight-knit, I thought that I might hear something here first. And besides that..." Bertie fell silent again, looking again after Miss Vicky. "I suppose I just wanted to see for myself that everyone here was all right. Which seems silly, I know, I hardly know any of them, but I couldn't go home until I'd come here."
Feeling somewhat better now all around, Bertie found himself relaxed enough to appreciate the sight of Gabriel, on a couch and sipping champagne. Miss Vicky was a striking woman, but Gabriel was artistry of a different kind, broad and tall where she was slender and curved. To see Gabriel on the couch where Miss Vicky had been not long ago jarred in a confusing - and not a little bit arousing - manner in Bertie's mind.
Bertie's gaze drifted down over Gabriel's strong shoulders and arms, and returned to his face with an accompanying smile. "A great lover of music, hmm?"
Gabriel looked over at Bertie, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I don’t think it silly in the least,” he said, quietly. “And I shall let you know, should I overhear anything,” he added, with a sly, playful look, “although heaven knows, there’s not usually a great deal of talking going on at these sort of places.”
“And Mr Eden,” he added, grinning wickedly, “you know I am quite a fan of an artful rendition of a song… or a particularly inspired recitation of poetry.”
Recalling a certain morning in France, which Bertie was certain had been the intention, he laughed aloud and returned Gabriel's grin. "You are an accomplished singer yourself, and a skillful orator."
He should not be thinking it, much less suggesting it aloud, but Gabriel was here, and Bertie was here, and there were bedrooms in plenty, occupied by women who had seen and done more than Bertie had, he was certain. Bertie glanced away and cleared his throat before remarking, with a false casualness that was belied by his quickening heartbeat, "You know, at Cambridge we used to come to places like this all together, I suppose so we wouldn't lose our nerve. There were some who liked to watch their classmates. Who appreciated, ah, diverse aesthetics."
Mal had been one of those, though Bertie didn't think he'd gone back after they'd become lovers. Mal had told him, though, about watching, the things he'd learned and seen. And of course, hand-in-hand with those who liked watching were those who liked to be seen. Bertie didn't know if Gabriel was one of either of those, but it was as close as they could get, here, and the idea gave Bertie a thrill of the forbidden.
The thought was beyond tempting, and if Gabriel had been a patron and not the owner of this establishment, there would be a distinct appeal to it. But he made a habit out of not sleeping with his employees -- it was beyond messy when it came to issues of consent, and led to circumstances ripe for rivalry besides.
He looked over at Bertie, who was being so wonderfully daring, and grinned. “I’ll admit,” he said, tipping his head, “I do have a healthy appreciation for diverse aesthetics, as you put it.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to overly complicate things here,” he said, honestly enough, “but should you wish to make another detour before heading home, I believe I know a rather enthusiastic and delightfully discreet lady who’d be willing to do more than simply let one of us watch,” he said quietly, eyes flashing a bit.
Bertie's lips parted, but he somehow managed not to produce the undignified sound of want that caught in his throat. Since he'd been making himself unwanted here on the very grounds of not wishing to complicate things, he could hardly argue--nor would he wish to, when given that alternative.
"I've been trying to avoid such, ah, complications here myself," Bertie admitted, feeling oddly bashful about his lack of conquest in this particular arena. "I believe my welcome has worn somewhat thin because of it. But if it wouldn't be interrupting your evening..." Bertie gestured vaguely to their surroundings, because Gabriel had obviously come here for company, and Bertie didn't wish to make him unwelcome. He had quite captured the madame's disapproval enough already without stealing her customers.
Bertie's tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, eyes somewhat dazed at the picture Gabriel had painted, and he finished, "I would very much enjoy your company." And someone else's, perhaps, as well. Bertie's imagination, having run wildly through a variety of possible combinations, seemed to have melted his thoughts into a generic tangle of limbs and lust.
“Well, then,” Gabriel replied, his grin widening, entirely far too pleased with himself for his own good. “What do you say we catch ourselves a cab? This can wait for another day,” he said, tipping his head to the room, encompassing both his and Bertie’s unfinished business with a laugh.
Leah wished she could let the ground open and swallow her whole at the moment. She understood her father had lovers, would have been shocked if he hadn’t in all honesty. But Bertie of all people? And here of all places?
It was a struggle not to glare at him and give away the illusion she’d worked so hard to craft and protect that she was just another employee of the Academy. She turned her head to look away from the scene and decided to go ask Georgie about something, anything, that would get her out of there for a few minutes.
Gabriel noticed the slight tightening of Leah’s mouth and Lydia’s look of relief as he swept out of the room with a rather eager Mr Eden at his heels, and figured there’d be a need to smooth some ruffled feathers with his daughter later.
For the time being, however, he had a rather pleasant detour to make.