Who: Leah Allen and Bertie Eden What: Official Business Where: The Allen townhouse When: January 21, 1889 (backdated) Ratings/warnings: Mentions of death
Straightening his tie one last time, Bertie gathered his courage and knocked on the door of the Allen’s townhouse. He’d never been here, but after the weekend in the country with Gabriel, he felt less like an intruder on Gabriel’s personal life, and more a friend of the family.
In a way. A very particular sort of friend.
Sighing, Bertie tugged at his collar again and straightened up taller as the door began to open. He hoped it was Gabriel, although he’d need to explain himself.
It wasn’t, of course.
“Hello. I was wondering…” Bertie fumbled belatedly in his coat for a calling card, which he handed over to the waiting butler. “Sorry. Is Miss Allen available? Ah, at home?” His name was on his card, but Bertie still added, “It’s Bertie Eden calling. Bertram. Sorry.” He hastily reached out for the card, doing an awkward dance with the butler until he got it back when the man didn’t understand what he was after, folded down one corner, and offered it back again.
Bertie couldn’t tell whether the silent gaze of the butler was amused or judgmental. Possibly both.
“I’ll wait?” Bertie said weakly, hovering uncertainly in case he should be told the lady was not seeing visitors and that he should go.
Leah was quite surprised that Bertie of all people was at the door and asking for her, and not her father. It was just luck that he found her there at all. She needed to go to Miss Lydia’s later, having scheduled to go over the accounts as a way of familiarizing herself with the back end of things now that she was a part owner. Between that, keeping up the social scene and learning all she could about her target for MPC she was out of the house more than in.
She had the butler show Bertie into the library and smiled when he appeared. “That will be all Wheeler, thank you.”
“Bertie, what an unexpected surprise! What brings you by this way today?”
Bertie bowed his greeting and came through the doorway, offering a rather complicated smile at Miss Allen's pleasant welcome. "Business, I'm afraid. I'm..." She knew all now, but it was still strange to say aloud, rather than prevaricating, "...on Night Watch business. Not that it isn't a pleasure to spend this time in your company. Occasionally my work allows me to combine my time with pleasure. But it's...it's not a happy reason I'm visiting, I'm afraid."
“Oh?” Leah kept her composure and gestured to a pair of armchairs near the fireplace. “I’m sorry to hear that. Why don’t we sit down and discuss how I can be of help?”
Bertie offered his thanks and waited until they were both seated to begin his explanation. "A man was found," he started, avoiding any mention yet of foul play or vampires, waiting to see what Miss Allen had to offer, if anything. "He had this in his pocket--I wondered if the lady might be known to you, so that I could identify him through her."
He took out the photograph from the morgue, and smoothed it out before offering it for Miss Allen to take.
Leah accepted the photo and studied it carefully. “I do know her.” She said after a moment before handing it back. “That’s Ginerva Whitley-Smithe, Lady Carlisle. I won’t claim to be good friends with her but we are in the same social circle. She’s engaged to Sir Allen Bixby.” It took a bit of effort not to sneer the last bit out, she’d never liked Bixby much. Definitely someone resting on the laurels of a glorious family past than looking to make something of themselves for the future.
"Thank you." Bertie tucked the photograph away and produced a small black notebook, filled with equal amounts of case notes and poetic verses, and began to copy down the names. "Have you met Sir Allen Bixby? Can you tell me anything about him? A description, perhaps? In particular..."
It was a detail he'd have preferred not to share, but it was too important a clue to gloss over. "...do you know if or why he might have been wearing a servant's clothes? Did he have a habit of performing at the theatre, perhaps?"
“No, he didn’t.” Leah sneered at the question. “Allen Bixby is unremarkable in every way except he comes from a wealthy family. Average height, average build, blond hair and eyes, and a complete waste of good breeding. What Ginerva sees in him I’ll never know. He and a few of his friends like to go out dressed as common laborers or servants and visit the establishments that those sorts can afford.”
She didn’t have anything against the lower classes, but Bixby pretending to be one just for fun was something that could only end in tears. And apparently it had ended in worse than that for him. “Was it just him or were there others?”
Bertie was startled by the vehement disdain of Miss Allen's reply, when she seemed on the surface to be so sweetly-mannered, and when... "He's dead," Bertie said, wondering if she didn't realize, and if he'd been too blunt in saying so. "And no...none of his companions were found with him. I don't even know if they know."
Realizing he was making an assumption, Bertie hastily retracted his startled statement. "I mean, a man was found, I apologize. It might not be the gentleman at all. I'm merely investigating, and you've given me a place to begin, thank you."
Leah saw his reaction. “I know I sound harsh, but I can’t stand people who waste their potential. Allen Bixby’s family rank and connections enabled him to do whatever he wanted, but instead of serving the country or working in some capacity to uphold the family name he decided to be a wastrel. If he’s dead then I’m sorry for his family, his parents will be beside themselves.” She wasn’t heartless, after all. His parents seemed like perfectly nice people and she hated that they’d be crushed by their son’s death, if he was in fact dead.
She nodded at his clarification. “Well then I hope for his family’s sake that he’s still alive and it’s some other poor soul who met his maker.”
"As do I." Bertie's reply was professional and a little subdued--he wondered if Miss Allen would consider his years at Cambridge and general layabout tendencies after university a similar waste, and suspected so. He hesitated slightly before asking, "Would you like me to inform you, if it should indeed be Sir Bixby?"
“Please.” Leah insisted. “If nothing else I should try to be there for the family and for Ginerva.” Once upon a time she might have put Bertie in the same category she did Allen, though at least studying at Cambridge counted for something! Having joined the Night Watch counted toward serving the country in her book as well. His parents might disagree, but she couldn’t say she knew them well outside of attempts to get the two of them together.
“Thank you for coming Bertie, if I can be of more help let me know.”