Who: Leah, Bertie, and Gabriel What: Hey doesn’t that look like Vicky? Where: Sanderson Summer Fete, London When: August 23rd 1888 (backdated) Ratings/warnings: slight mentions of sexual activity
The Sanderson Summer Fete tended to be a riot of colorful dresses worn by flitting young things doing their best to attract some belated attention. Despite the fact the official season ended in July, there was still a bloom of hopefulness in the air and a frothy, heady sense of possibility in every raise of an eyebrow and well-timed glance.
Gabriel was doing his utmost to play the role of Proud Papa this evening, and divert attention towards his daughter rather than take center stage -- he was decidedly not on the market at the moment (much to the disappointment of a few in the crowd, no doubt -- he was certainly an eligible widower), and he knew she’d shine all the brighter from his appreciative glow.
And she was, indeed, luminous, currently attracting no end of admiring and jealous looks in a dress that set off her golden hair and skin, and appeared to be holding her own in a conversation about the latest news in politics and industry with a cluster of officers -- he knew his daughter was far more than a pretty face, and any who thought otherwise did so at their peril. Of all the pretty young things there, he had no doubt that she was the cream of the crop, and that gave him no small degree of satisfaction.
He was sipping at a glass of champagne, and as she turned her face his way, he raised it in approval. Even though it was unlikely Leah would find a good match here, among a decidedly human crowd, it was still gratifying to see her working the room with a skill he knew would only grow as she got older.
Leah was in her element surrounded by handsome young men, most of whom were in uniform. She hadn’t quite meant to get into a discussion of why women should have the vote, but one of the men had mentioned a bill in Parliament and that had been the catalyst. They’d been going for a good five minutes now and none of the men seemed inclined to leave.
Of course, most might be too busy staring at the hint of cleavage in the fashionable dress that otherwise covered nearly every inch of her. It was a far cry from what she wore in her occasional stints at Miss Lydia’s, an arrangement she was still working to eliminate as soon as possible. There the idea was to cover just enough to make them wanting more, not to see how little skin could be exposed and still be able to move in the outfit.
Thank goodness that fashions tended to change over time. Who knew what things would be like fifty years from now in the 1930s? She’d barely have aged at all by then and the fashions would be completely different from today.
“Excuse me gentlemen, I need to freshen my drink and my father wants my attention. I’ll be back shortly.” She smiled brightly at the flock of young men and pulled away.
Gabriel laughed at the disappointed and decidedly hungry looks she left in her wake as Leah left the cluster of young men, and smiled as she approached, kissing her on the cheek. “Dearest,” he said, his voice low, “you are most sorely missed already by your adoring public. I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it?” He added, grinning. “Keep them on their toes. Shall we fetch you some more punch?”
"Bertram. Stop pulling at your collar." Mrs Eden descended on her son like a fluffed-up hen, discreetly patting at his coat until Bertie ceased tugging the starched material away from his throat. It was warm in the room, August unrelenting indoors even with the doors open to the garden, and Bertie would have suffered the smell of patrolling the docks just for a breeze.
"Sorry, mother. Shall I fetch you a drink?" Bertie didn't wait for an answer, simply made a dash for the refreshments table, stretching his neck out of the uncomfortable noose society had tied around it for the evening. Metaphorically and otherwise, as the starched collar and bowtie could surely count as allegory.
He wasn't the only one seeking an escape, it seemed, or else the young lady with her back to him really did want a drink and wasn't - as Bertie was - simply hiding from her parents. Bertie decided that striking up a conversation couldn't do much harm--if nothing else, it would delay the inevitable return to his progenitors.
"You're not avoiding someone as well, are you? If so, would you perhaps like to avoid them together? It seems altogether more efficient if we..."
Words dried up and then left his head entirely, and Bertie stared with wide eyes as he recognized Vicky, the working girl he most often spoke with at Miss Lydia's. He told himself that it couldn't be her, simply someone very like her, but he knew her features, and surely there could not be two such lovely young women in London.
Bertie found his voice, quite without his brain catching up. "Oh my God."
Then he saw who was just beyond Vicky’s shoulder, and somehow his eyes managed to widen impossibly further. "Oh my God."
Leah would never claim to be a great actress, especially when she didn't expect to perform. Her own eyes widened at the sight of Inspector Eden, who looked a mix of incredibly uncomfortable and scandalized at seeing her outside of Miss Lydia’s. Damn it!
“I'm sorry, have we met?” Aside from her initial reaction Leah wasn't going to acknowledge having met the young man before. She extended her free hand towards him. “I'm Leah Allen, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you all right?”
Surely he wasn't going to have a heart attack or stroke on the spot?
The name jarred oddly for a moment, and then the pieces fell into place. Small wonder those at Miss Lydia's had been so friendly and uninterested in Gabriel as a customer--he'd been there to visit his wife.
It was hardly the first time a man had married a woman with whom he'd found, ah, carnal delight, and Gabriel's circumstances were unusual already. Bertie's face went hot and humiliated at the memory of leaving with Gabriel, clearly to seek their own carnal delight, right in front of the woman before him.
"Mrs Allen," Bertie said, recovering some poise at her graceful handling of the situation. "No, I apologize, I saw someone across the room behind you and spoke quite without thinking. It was unforgivably rude. Bertram Eden."
As he bowed politely over her hand, still reeling, he heard one of the last voices he'd hoped to hear right now. Which meant, unfortunately, that the other wouldn't be far behind.
"Good evening. Fine party, isn't it? Damn hot, but..."
"William," the second voice chimed in, just as expected. "Language. Bertram, would you introduce us to your friend?"
Gabriel had likewise had a quick moment of worry at the initial exclamation, and the source of it -- after their run-in at the brothel, he’d had a talk with Leah where, among many things, she’d revealed her general frustration at his tendency to pluck all the young eligible men out from under her nose (at which he’d told her she’d be competing with him on a more even footing soon enough, he was sure), and he’d provided his intent -- not to show her up, but to find a graceful way to bundle Bertie out of Miss Lydia’s -- but one thing they’d parsed (and finely) was the importance in general of establishing one’s role in any given situation -- a thing not easily done on the fly.
She’d revealed inadvertently that she’d known Gabriel by name at the brothel, and shown him a certain degree of deference, which had made it a touch more limiting in terms of what he could tell Bertie. They’d talked about how in future, at Miss Lydia’s, letting him take the lead as to establishing the part he wished to play would most likely be best -- and how he might suggest to her what his wishes were through making an introductory gesture -- one either of familiarity, or uncertainty.
Miss Lydia’s clientele were somewhat assured of a need for mutual discretion, and dipped their toes in both human and not so human circles as a matter of course, but he hadn’t anticipated Bertie.
Bertie and Bertie’s parents.
He was pleased (despite his concern) that the lesson had taken well -- Leah was asking Bertie to take on a certain fiction, and Bertie (thank God in Heaven) seemed to be accepting the challenge, and he swooped to her side with his own glass of punch as his parents likewise came circling.
He caught Bertie’s fishing for appropriate title, and figured it was best to jump in and take a turn at the helm before he got too far in.
“Mr. Gabriel Allen,” he said, extending a hand to Bertie’s father and shaking it firmly, laughing a little. “It seems as though the punch bowl has drawn quite the crowd. In all this heat, who can blame us? My daughter, Leah. And this must be your son?” He smiled, looking Bertie’s way, and extended a hand. “Delighted to make your acquaintance.”
It was a tricky situation, and he had absolutely no doubt that Bertie would want to talk about it extensively after, but for the time being, the best they could both hope for is that Bertie was willing to roll with what they were tossing his way.
Leah hadn’t been upset with her father for the actions at Miss Lydia’s. No, her reaction had more to do with the general frustration that here was yet another young man her father had already plucked from the pool. It was water under the bridge now of course, but she reserved the right to be annoyed if it happened again.
In her opinion she could hardly be blamed for the error of calling her father by name at the Academy: how to address her employer in mixed company had never come up in any of her conversations with her fellow musicians or the madam. Perhaps they’d assumed that she would know the proper thing to do, or that surely someone else had already gone over that scenario and they didn’t need to. Regardless it had put them in a bit of a spot and it was something that Lydia would address specifically with new hires in the future.
She curtsied slightly to acknowledge the presence of Bertie’s parents before shaking their hands, smiling and turning on the charm. Hopefully they could get through this mess quickly without requiring her sudden relocation to California. “A pleasure to meet you all. It is dreadfully hot this evening isn’t it?”
"Miss Allen, what a lovely gown, you look a picture," Bertie's mother cooed. "Doesn't she, Bertram?"
"William Eden," Bertie's father introduced himself. "And my wife Elizabeth. This is indeed our youngest, Bertram."
"Not so young anymore," Bertie's mother laughed, which made Bertie wince internally at the unspoken it's high time he was married and settled down implied by her tone. Sure enough, her next comments made him feel as though he were a yearling calf being paraded at auction. "They grow up so quickly, don't they? It seems just yesterday he was leaving us for Cambridge. He's with Scotland Yard now, and not as constable either--I expect by next year he'll be a full inspector."
Bertie shook Gabriel's hand in a sort of numb, horrified despair, unable to quite process his mother, his lover, his father, and his lover's wife or possibly mistress or possibly daughter all in one room, making casual conversation around him.
"Fine school, Cambridge," Bertie's father carried on. "Did you catch the boat race in the spring?"
"William, no one wants to talk of sport," Bertie's mother chided, before Bertie could go and drown himself in the punch bowl. "Miss Allen, won't you tell us about yourself? You must be so proud," she continued to Gabriel, with a familiar and terrifying gleam in her eye. "Such a beautiful daughter."
“My pride and joy,” Gabriel replied, honestly enough. “I’m afraid she gets all of her virtues from her mother, God rest her, and if she has any vices, which I am highly doubtful of, I’ll take full blame for them.”
He couldn’t help but notice that Bertie seemed temporarily at somewhat of a loss, and clapped him a little on the back. “A Cambridge man, eh? And about to become an Inspector of Scotland Yard as well. Quite an accomplishment. I believe there’s plenty of pride to go round, Mrs Eden. And your youngest, you say?” He added for good measure, with a smile. “Impossible.”
“Cambridge is a fine school.” Leah agreed, giving Bertie a smile and trying to ignore his mother’s hints. While she would like to be married, one of her father’s lovers was not on her list of possible suitors. Of course his parents probably (hopefully?) had no idea. “A pity they don’t allow women as full members. My degree is through London University, I read business there.” If they didn’t like women who were educated and thought for themselves then hopefully that would scare them off. “What degree did you earn at Cambridge?” The last was directed at Bertie.
She did her best to ignore her father’s flirting too, which was like breathing to him. He couldn’t help it.
The punch bowl was looking more and more appealing. Bertie cleared his throat, looked somewhere that was not quite at Vicky - Leah - and not quite at Gabriel, and said, "Literature. Poetry."
"Business," Bertie's mother repeated, slightly taken aback but hiding it well, Bertie thought. "What an unusual choice. Do you have a business in mind? Not that you have to make use of your degree, of course--we worried when Bertram went for poetry, but he's turned out well, don't you think?"
"Nothing to worry about," Bertie's father interjected. "Scotland Yard didn't seem to mind, eh?"
Bertie smiled weakly at his father's wink, and found himself glad that his parents didn't know that he hadn't been recruited as an inspector by any show of skill, but because he had an unusual ability that no one around him had. He didn't know what they would have thought to say about him otherwise. 'Bit useless all around, what with the poetry, but at least he can see ghosts, eh?'
"And you're a widower? Poor man," Bertie's mother sympathized, looking a touch flushed and almost coquettish at Gabriel's compliment. (Bertie gave the punch bowl a longing look.) "It must have been so hard, raising your daughter alone. Are you in business as well? Is she taking after you, is that it?"
“I dabble,” Gabriel replied, modestly. “Leah’s the one who has a real head for it. I’m sure she’ll go far. And poetry -- ah.” He caught Bertie’s wince, and he looked over at him, briefly. “The sign of a truly refined mind, I’ve found. No doubt, the Yard appreciates an eye for subtlety and detail.” He smiled a little, and gestured magnanimously, shifting his weight to step a little between Bertie and Leah and Bertie’s parents. “I’m sure our hovering is no end of annoying. Shall we leave them to get better acquainted?” He clapped Mr Eden on the shoulder as they started to walk away. “You can tell me all about that boat race,” Gabriel said, shooting one more brief look back towards Leah and Bertie.
Leah watched them go with a mix of fondness and exasperation. Trust her father to flirt with anything that moved. She wondered if her own selectivity was an abnormality or if Gabriel was simply a force of nature. Something to ponder at a later date she supposed. Right now she had to deal with Bertie.
“If that’s what you have to deal with all the time, then you have my sympathies.” Judging from his reaction to his parents she didn’t think it was going out on much of a limb that the man had difficulties with them. “Have you been at Scotland Yard long?”
Bertie started to give Miss Vicky - Miss Allen - a look, then remembered that she was unaware he was Night Watch. Because she might be unaware such a thing existed, although if she was that close to Gabriel, in some fashion, it seemed likely she did. Not that he could reveal anything without being sure.
Bertie took a breath. "Two years. How long have you been...?" Miss Allen? He cast a look Gabriel's way, tried not to notice whether or not his mother was still being charmed the same way her son had been, and then had a horrible thought about the ménage à trois he'd nearly tried to arrange with Vicky and Gabriel and felt briefly ill.
Leah could almost see the gears spinning in his head and decided to take pity on him and put him out of his misery. “All my life, but I didn't start to understand until I was older.” After making sure they both had full glasses she put a hand on his arm and smiled in what she hoped he’d take as an understanding way. “Come, take a walk and your parents will see we’re getting to know each other. Maybe they'll leave you alone for a while. While we walk I'll explain.”
Bertie was sweet if more than a bit bumbling, hopefully if she explained things he’d keep his mouth shut. But standing next to the punch bowl was not the place for that conversation.
Comportment had been drilled into him thankfully until it was second-nature--Bertie adjusted to properly offer Miss Allen his arm, and accompanied her away from the worst press of guests in tailcoats and summer gowns.
All her life, but she hadn't known it. Had Gabriel kept her in the dark about her parentage for reasons of his own? Or had he only just discovered her in a brothel where he must have known her mother, and elevated her into society out of guilt and remorse? If so, why was she still at a brothel, of all places?
"I don't think it's a good idea to encourage my parents," Bertie offered finally, in an attempt at more frivolous conversation while they walked. "They've been hoping I'll marry for years. I'm the last one of the Edens left unwed. My mother feels that twenty-four is time enough, for a bachelor."
“Nonsense!” Leah chuckled at the remark as they made their way to a less congested area. “She ought to let you get your feet under you at the Watch first before trying to fix you up.” And God help the poor woman who finally tied the knot with Bertie Eden.
A subtle glance about and Leah decided they were isolated enough for a short, quiet conversation. “You understand what my father is, don't you?” He was a member of the Night Watch, surely he knew Gabriel wasn't human.
"I do," Bertie replied with equal gravity. "He's entrusted me with it. And you know I'm Night Watch?"
He wondered if her father had told her, or if she'd just known. That many secrets disclosed could clear the air considerably between them, and make several things easier to speak about. "When I first met you, and asked about women who might have been assaulted," he said, quickly and quietly, "did you understand what I meant?"
“I wasn’t entirely certain but I thought you were, yes.” Leah nodded. “And yes, I did understand what you meant. None of that has happened at the Academy as far as I know.” And she would know, given how Lydia trusted her now that the madam knew her parentage.
“But the reason I asked you about my father is that I’m the same, though his tastes are a little more...diversified than mine.” Honestly she wasn’t sure there was anything or anyone her father wouldn’t do. “It’s a bit more difficult for a woman than a man in this society to have a varied ‘diet’ if you will, especially in this class. The academy is a temporary solution to the problem while I explore longer term arrangements.”
That wasn't anything Bertie had spent any time considering, but he nodded as if he understood, and phrased his reply carefully so as not to be indelicate. "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to pry into your affairs--I had no idea, which...well, you covered very well, so you must know that already, but I do apologize for my boorish reaction. I was...taken off-guard."
“Apology accepted. Of course you were.” Leah nodded, unsurprised. “Why wouldn’t you have been?” She’d been caught off guard as well as Bertie Eden was the last person she ever expected to run into again outside of very specific circumstances. “Please understand, you won’t find that person outside the Academy, just as you won’t ever find me there. If there’s ever a problem for the Night Watch, the musicians there will make sure you know about it.”
While Gabriel was capable of listening to Mr Eden go on about boat races and provide just enough details about Leah’s will and independence to give both parties a graceful out, he was still just listening with half a brain, and as soon as he could, he took a graceful out of his own -- clapping Mr Eden on the back, and leaving Mrs Eden pink-cheeked and giggling, he set off to find Leah and Bertie, his heart pounding a little in his chest.
He knew Bertie would keep confidences -- of course he would -- but he’d seen the man’s shock, and how uncomfortable he’d been, and he was concerned about where that placed them all moving forward. He managed to catch a glimpse of them, heads close together, and his shoulders relaxed a little in relief as he hovered a bit, not sure whether it would be appropriate to interrupt, or simply leave them to it.
Bertie had his mouth open to reply when he caught sight of Gabriel, looking ready to interrupt, and he abruptly wanted to be anywhere but here. He couldn't bear to meet Gabriel's eyes after his earlier humiliation, and any conversation was sure to be awkward. Particularly if they were both pretending not to know one another. Making small talk over subjects they already knew was a thought that made Bertie's stomach turn.
"I should leave you to get on with your evening. I believe Mr Allen is waiting for you." Bertie sketched a short bow and stepped back. "Good evening, Miss Allen. It was...an unexpected surprise to meet you."
Leah raised an eyebrow at Bertie’s abrupt departure, then turned to see her father hovering nearby. “It’s all right Papa.” She sighed, the energy of the unexpected encounter wearing off. The punch glass came to her lips and she drank deeply. That had been embarrassing, and one of her deepest fears almost come to life. At least Bertie was relatively harmless from what she’d gathered in her interactions with him and talking with her father.
Still, it made it that much more important to find an alternative to the Academy, and soon.
Gabriel frowned a bit as Bertie wheeled off in the opposite direction without so much as a glance back, but he turned back to Leah with a nod.
He’d talk to Bertie later.
“It is, yes,” he replied. “I know it was no end of awkward, kitten, but you’ll have no reason to worry on his count. He’ll keep his tongue, and hold our confidences.”
It could’ve been a great deal worse, really, and while it’d been a rather frantic and thrown-together affair, at the very least, he knew Leah’s reputation was safe.
He paused, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I never want you to feel ashamed of who you are, my darling girl,” he said, quietly. “You are magnificent. It’s the rest of the world who has to catch up.”