black_wolf (black_wolf) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-06-28 18:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | bertie eden, lucien swinton |
Who: Lucien Swinton, Bertram Eden
Where: Night Watch Offices
What: A possible lead on a cold case
When: 28th June, 1888
Ratings: PG, description of werewolf attack
If pressed for a reason, Bertie would claim it was his rumbling stomach that caused him to overlook Lord Black's entrance into the offices of the Night Watch. It was, after all, past one in the afternoon, and a long way to go before evening supper. Bertie had dined before arriving at the office, of course, but he had slept in rather later than he ought, and so breaking his fast had been a hasty and slapdash affair. He had grown accustomed to keeping early hours, but that did not mean he was particularly fond of them.
It was not unexpected, then, that he should have been thinking of supper arrangements, and not of the reports in front of him, nor of the greetings in the main room by Detective Inspectors on duty. His first awareness of the visitor was in a faint wisp of fog in the corner of the room, curling into the outline of a not-unfamiliar face.
Lucy was not a strong ghost, nor a frequent apparition. She had died very young, and whatever force held her soul prisoner, it did not permit her much freedom to speak. Bertie only knew her name from the report he had managed to unearth regarding her death, and she rarely made any attempt to communicate. Bertie's eyes were fixed accordingly on her wavering features when her mouth shaped two words.
She made no sound, but in Bertie's straining to hear if she did so, he heard another voice, Detective Inspector Edwin Giles, saying heartily in time with the movement of Lucy's silenced mouth, "Lord Black!"
Bertie scrambled up from his seat, papers dashed everywhere and chair knocked back in his haste to greet their visitor. He made no effort to return the papers to his desk, as there would be time for that later on, but one of them did regretfully land just where his right boot followed a moment later, sending him skidding clumsily into the doorknob on its slippery surface.
He hoped to have recovered his dignity by the time he emerged and trotted over to where Detective Inspector Giles stood with Lord Black, only slightly breathless when he made a greeting of "Lord Black," turning his head respectfully to the side, averting his eyes and exposing his throat to the Black Park Alpha. He was bursting with questions, but managed to hold them in check for long enough to be acknowledged before he began pressing Lord Black for information.
It was inevitable, Lucien figured, that a visit to the Night Watch would be accompanied by the presence of one Bertram Eden. He tended to turn up at the most inconvenient of times, all eagerness and flattery despite the fact that he ought to have known better, and today was, apparently, no exception.
He’d come as early as he could -- there’d been a morning committee meeting he couldn’t get out of -- but the news story from the Telegraph had caught his eye, and he had to follow up on it. He looked over at Mr. Eden, inwardly sighing, before giving the man a brief nod.
“Inspector Giles,” he repeated, “I’m assuming I’m not entirely incorrect when I assume there was something more to the ‘unfortunate hunting accident’ that took the life of a French nobleman in Aquitaine yesterday?” He frowned. “I would like to make an inquiry, to see if it has any bearing on my own case.”
"Ah, of course," Giles replied, chewing for a moment on his enormous moustaches before continuing. "I was just on my way to the club for luncheon, but we can sit down here, or you're welcome to join me as my guest. It's the--"
"I can assist," Bertie chimed in promptly, although he mistimed his entry into the conversation, stepping on Giles' next sentence instead of smoothly insinuating himself into the pause that ended too quickly for Bertie to politely get a word in. "I've read the case file, I would be happy to aid Lord Black in his inquiry. With your permission, sir," he added with the last of his breath, turning hopeful capable and confident eyes on Lord Black.
"Well, if you're so eager, Mr Eden," Giles chuckled, but someone of Lord Black's rank was not generally left to the mercies of Trainee Inspectors, a courtesy which all of them knew. "If that arrangement is acceptable to you, Lord Black. I don't mind delaying luncheon if you'd prefer that we discuss it together, although I'm certain Mr Eden is capable."
"Yes, sir," Bertie piped up at once, although he belatedly thought he ought to have remained silent and not spoken out of turn, when it was Lord Black who had been addressed.
Lucien weighed the less-than-ideal options available to him -- while Mr. Eden’s attentions were awkward, he had no doubt that the man had thoroughly familiarized himself with the case in question which, while a touch overzealous, made for a great deal less that would need explaining. Inspector Giles also seemed entirely too fond of luncheons in general by the look of him, and he wasn’t entirely certain whether this warranted the full and undivided attention of the Inspector -- at least not yet. The case was nearly two years old, and very little progress (if any) had been made on it -- and he knew the odds this story would connect at all were slight.
He shook his head, a slight frown of annoyance flickering over his face as he came to a decision. “Please don’t let me keep you, Inspector,” he said, a little regretfully. “Thank you -- Mr Eden will suit for the time being. I’ll be sure to follow up with you personally if necessary,” he added.
"Splendid," Inspector Giles agreed, and slapped Bertie companionably on the back, which only endangered his balance for the briefest of moments before he regained his footing. "It's our privilege to assist the Lord of Black Park."
Taking his cue, Bertie gestured for Lord Black to accompany him. "This way, sir, if you please. Would you like any tea?"
He'd forgotten the spill of papers surrounding his desk, and flushed upon opening the door, stooping hastily to gather them up. The rest of his small workspace was not too poorly-off today, only a few piles of unfinished paperwork and a half-cup of long-cold tea that Bertie had meant to rinse out for at least two days now.
"I'll just take out the file for you, Lord Black, and--did you say you wished to compare it to another? A personal case? I can find that one for you as well, if it would be of any help to you. Is your pack well? I'm glad to hear you are not here on their behalf for some trouble. I hope there is no trouble, I mean. I beg your pardon, did I offer you tea?"
Lucien’s sigh was fully external this time, but he caught himself short of pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tea would be appreciated, thank you,” he said, a little shorter than he might. “The Stanbury case, yes. Charles and Marguerite, nearly two years previous. And any details of this Aquitaine incident would be much appreciated.”
He looked up at the eager young Mr. Eden, trying so very hard to please, and did his best to not judge him too harshly for it. There’d been a bit of a near-scandal a few months back that’d very nearly scuppered the impending engagement between his aide and a lady from a respectable Liverpool pack, and while Mr. Eden had thankfully finally taken the incredibly obvious suggestions thrown his way to leave off, it’d still been a headache to manage at the time, and given Mr. Eden’s mournful and lovelorn glances tossed their way every time they had a run-in at a social event or the halls of some government building or another, it was far from done with as far as the young man was concerned. If he kept this up, Lucien feared he’d have to pack his aide and the blushing bride back to the countryside to gain some distance from the entire affair.
Still, Lucien was determined to be professional -- and while it presented some awkwardness, it didn’t hurt to have an employee of the Night Watch so blatantly determined to get into his good graces again.
Bertie provided both tea and case files with alacrity, clearing the mess on his desk to one side so that they could spread out the papers between them. "May I ask some questions of you, Lord Black?" Bertie asked hopefully, wanting to acquaint himself with the Stanford case as quickly and intimately as possible. "Is there some reason for your inquiry about a connection? Was there a Frenchman under suspicion for the earlier incident, or a scent? Someone visiting from a pack on the mainland? Or some similarity, perhaps, in the manner of attack as it was reported by the papers?"
He had the Aquitaine file laid atop the Stanbury, as it was the reason for Lord Black's inquiry, open to the first summary report. Bertie scrabbled a notebook and fountain pen from beneath the loose papers on his desk and poised to take notes.
“There’s good reason so little progress has been made in the Stanbury case,” Lucien replied, “because so very little is known. And don’t get me started on the French Inspectors -- they’ve been of next to no use.” He took a sip of his tea. “The attack is in a roughly similar region to that on Lord and Lady Stanbury. I had just completed a visit with some cousins who reside in a small village outside of Bordeaux -- the attack wasn’t quite on their territorial ground, but they were able to come by a few days after and ascertain that the scent was unfamiliar to them, and naturally, it was unfamiliar to myself as well -- and I have yet to catch wind of it again.” He paused, raising a finger to stave off immediate questions. “And before you ask, yes, I’ve written them about this just this morning, to see whether there’s anything they might be able to ascertain.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts. “The news story was spare on details, obviously,” he said, frowning, “and the main of it is that I am trying to determine the answer to some of those questions myself. If it was indeed a Frenchmen, then this might be part of a greater pattern -- I have so little to work from in my own case, that when I saw a member of the gentry had been attacked, and where, I figured it was worth pursuing -- and after nearly two years without much progress made, I know I’m grasping at straws, but I’ve still no idea of the motive or identity of the beast who attacked Charles and Lady Stanbury.”
Bertie placed the official report on Lord Black's side of the desk, so that he could read it at his leisure. If there were any details to be held back, Bertie expected that Inspector Giles or one of the others would have said as much to all of them. "May I ask--when you say motive, do you mean the motive that would cause someone to wish them harm? Or the motive for such an attack as it refers to the desired result? Do you believe the assailant intended Lady Stanbury to be turned, or was that an unexpected outcome?"
He took down Lord Black's statements on the past incident, although they were likely already there in the file, and thought furiously as he did so. "An assault upon a gentlewoman...one not resulting in the lady's death, I should say...is far less likely to be reported than a murder. It may be possible that other such incidents have taken place, and been kept quiet by the families of any victims."
Bertie bit his lip, feeling guilty for the luxury of distance he had from this case, which Lord Black did not. "I apologize if my line of inquiry is insensitive," he said after a brief moment. "I mean no offense, to you or Lady Stanbury. I only wish to help however I may."
“The way I see it,” Lucien replied, “there are a few possibilities I can possibly think of, none of which are particularly palatable.” He sat the tea down carefully on a part of the desk that wasn’t too covered in papers. “Either the attacker intended to target Charles, and Lady Stanbury was simply in the way… or he intended to kill both, and did a poor job of it -- it was a near thing,” he said, shortly. “A very near thing. But the damndest part of it…” he shook his head. “He would’ve known there was a wolf in their company. I’d stayed back at the house to finish up correspondence when they were attacked, but he would’ve smelled me on both of them, and that makes me wonder if that wasn’t part of the picture as well, somehow.”
He frowned again, thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought to inquire if there’d been a rash of gentry who’d been turned rather than killed -- has there been? You’re right in that it’d receive far less notice.”
Shaking his head, he picked up his cooling tea again. “Of course, the fact it’s in France makes it all a great deal trickier to begin with.”
"I shall look into it," Bertie assured him, all earnestness. "You are correct that it may take more time to pursue an investigation, and matters may be more delicate, but surely they would wish to set at ease the mind of a gentlewoman so cruelly used. I will state the matter very clearly, unless you wish me to leave Lady Stanbury's name out of it. She has suffered enough."
Bertie did not know the lady directly, but she was a personal friend of Lord Black's and understood to be under his protection, so Bertie could not believe her without merit. He paused again before venturing cautiously, "If it were to be an attack against you, my lord...have there been any other incidents, prior or since, which might provide us with further clues?"
Surely Lord Black had already addressed this, likely in the file Bertie hadn't yet perused. But just in case he had not committed such thoughts to paper with the Night Watch, Bertie felt it prudent to ask.
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that angle too,” Lucien replied, quietly. “Nothing since I can directly put my finger on. And as to before…” he frowned. “Nothing of note as far as I’m concerned. But I’ve taken some unpopular stances over the years, and I’m well aware I’m a public figure of sorts in our rather small circles -- and my father…” he paused and shook his head. “My father likewise had his share of controversies, and died far before his time, but the coroner definitively ruled the causes natural, and I have no reason to believe otherwise.”
No reason, but the fact he brought it up was implication enough that he’d thought about it -- even though it had a hint of the spectacular about it, and it took on a flavor of paranoia he didn’t particularly care for, not without adequate evidence.
He sighed. “Discretion would be ideal, given the international scope of this, and the fact the French may balk at the implication they’ve been inadequate to the task of solving the Stanbury case.” He looked over at Bertie. “Given it is a matter requiring… diplomacy,” he said, as politely as he could manage, “you might ensure your superiors are involved throughout.”
Bertie startled. "Oh, yes," he assured, hardly flustered, as if that thought had ever crossed his mind, and he hadn't been planning to investigate entirely on his own initiative in order to impress Lord Black. "Of course. I shall speak with the Detective Inspectors at once. And be circumspect for the sake of the lady's privacy. Was it, ah..."
Bertie stopped himself, thankfully, before asking if the former Lord Black's death had been investigated by magical means, and where, if he were to perhaps go looking, Bertie might find his ghost. There were some questions that went beyond rudeness or forgiveness in the name of investigative inquiry.
"Would you care to read the file?" Bertie offered instead, gesturing with the hand not occupied by a ballpoint pen. "If there are any questions you have, I would be honored to answer them afterward. Or I can read the highlights for you, if you prefer."
Lord Black was an educated man who valued knowledge--Bertie suspected he would prefer to read for himself, but that was entirely his lordship's prerogative.
Lucien nodded briskly and took the proffered file, flipping through it. “Hm. It appears as though the gentleman in question was outside of his typical patterns of travel -- and there doesn’t appear to be a great deal about his companions, but I’m assuming from what little there is here that there were no wolves among the party,” he said, raising an eyebrow in Bertie’s direction. “I don’t see a good reason as to why he decided to go haring off to hunt in Aquitaine in particular -- that would be good to know.”
“And the injuries. Ah. The throat. The wolf was going for the kill, not to turn. Charles had similar injuries. And the timing is likewise outside of the full moon, and in broad daylight too.” He winced a little at the provided description of the coroner’s report. “We might compare the width of the canines -- I made certain they took measurements as part of the inquiry into Charles’s death.”
He looked up at Bertie, his expression steady. “When I wrote my cousins, I made sure to ask whether they knew if the gentleman had any associates of our particular persuasion in his circles, and I ought to hear back within the week. Is there anything of substance you’d add, or believe to be missing?”
"I'm afraid not, Lord Black." Bertie's disappointment over that fact was entirely clear when he spoke. He hesitated, well aware that it was a foolish line of inquiry, but wishing to have something to contribute all the same. "May I ask...the first incident, the Stanbury case. Had Lady Stanbury not survived, do you believe that you would have been a suspect? Is there...that is to say, do you believe there might be someone similarly implicated in the Aquitaine incident? You did mention that your scent was on Lord and Lady Stanbury. Without a witness, could you have been accused of the crime, and your reputation brought to harm, if only temporarily until you were cleared of guilt?"
Lucien paused. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, quietly. “There’d be the other wolf’s scent, of course, but the investigator could’ve claimed some conspiracy -- I so rarely travel outside of the country, I…” he frowned, absently picking up his tea, and making a face when he found it to be lukewarm. “I may have to look back through my notes to determine whether there would be a particularly good reason to want to keep me out of the country for an extended time. I already had to extend my stay by two weeks, to ensure the lady’s recovery and safety, and be there for her first full moon…”
He huffed, a little annoyed with himself that he hadn’t explored that particular angle. “And there’d be the scandal, of course, but it would’ve taken a great deal more effort to make any sort of charges stick beyond a brief, possibly embarrassing inconvenience.”
"It could lead to nowhere," Bertie hastened to assure him. "I wouldn't wish for you to waste your energy on nothing at all. Surely if the goal had been to frame you, such a lead would have been pursued. I only thought...well, a strike against your acquaintances, marked by your scent, is a strike against you, and by extension your pack. I only hoped to know if another in Aquitaine might find himself in such a predicament. Your cousins, I am certain, will be able to settle the matter either way when they write to you."
Bertie set down his pen, feeling that he'd contributed nothing of note to the conversation, and wishing he had studied the Stanbury case and been more prepared for this meeting. He wished to show himself to advantage if he could, and this had not been his best showing.
"I give you my pledge, Lord Black, the Night Watch will do everything in our power to look into this matter, discreetly and thoroughly, to your satisfaction. If there is anything we can do for you, I pray you do not hesitate to come to us."
Lucien was still stuck on the last point Bertie had managed to stumble upon, and his forehead wrinkled in thought. “Regardless, it’s an angle worth exploring -- whether a wolf associated with him might be framed unfairly for this death.” He made a mental note to look back at the schedule of votes and speeches in the House of Shadows during that timeframe, even though he detested the thought that anyone would be so callous or that he would be so important that Charles’s life could be used in such a pitiably mercenary way. There were far, far too many possibilities, each of them plausible, which led to a tangled muddle.
He waved at Bertie’s impassioned little speech. “Please, Mr. Eden,” he said, drily. “It’s been almost two years without progress thus far, and with so little to go on, I’m not expecting you to work miracles.”
His expression softened a touch, knowing he’d been a little overly sharp. While the young man was frustrating on many levels, he had broken off his indulgent fling with Lucien’s aide when asked, and he had done his best here, given there was so very little to work from. “Still. I do appreciate your continued efforts in this matter,” he added.
"It is my privilege, Lord Black," Bertie replied at once, still puffed up with pride at the compliment, and entirely undaunted by any perceived lack of confidence on the Alpha's part. "You may depend upon me."
Bertie might not be able to work miracles, but he did have...sources. Unnatural ones. Perhaps he could call upon outside aid to get to the bottom of this mystery.