A Visit To A Client Subject: A Visit To A Client Where: The London Streets and Lord Mountford-Miles' city residence Who: Harry Fisher Open to: Lord Eward, whoever else Harry might meet and converse with on the way
Harry enjoyed mornings. True, he had been delayed at Marguerite York's home for several hours and had missed the early morning rush of tradesmen, market-stall owners, cart-drivers, pickpockets and burglars heading home, but the streets were still busy enough. One or two even gave him a nod as he walked past, and he returned it, placing each of those who greeted him in the social map in his head. Fred Jenkins, gambler; Robert Ewing, debtor; Sarah Bristol, two-penny girl... And then he filed it all away and walked on, hands in his pockets, enjoying this walk through the cobbled and dirt-track streets.It wasn't more than twenty minutes walk, once he'd crossed one of the Ramsgate Bridge, and with his thoughts on the prospects of another job, and the pretty young widow he had danced with the night before. Lyttelton, that was her name. Pretty thing. He'd have to arrange to bump into her again at some point. And there he was, at the door of Eward's house. He lifted his hand to knock, and then had second thoughts. Why bother the staff from tending their master's delicate head? He could let himself in. And he did, moving through the garden of the house, finding himself an open window that led into the scullery, climbing through, and then calmly walking through the kitchens and servant's quarters tell he found himself in a rich, over-decorated hallway.