Post by No Face on Mar 31, 2024 20:11:15 GMT -5
(Adeline and John Slake speak)
Those was certainly looking for trouble if there ever was. They were watching the Flynns and they paid a visit to The Knightsbridge House. Adeline was under no delusion that her own flat, which was known for having multiple people coming and going, wasn't being observed as well.
Especially since her dislike for Slake was made clear in the Garden.
All she needed was to be patient and to watch.
A log book was created to keep track of those coming and going at the complex. She kept a careful eye on the streets below, watching to see who was interacting with those girls - did they come back the next day? Was there anyone who lingered long enough? She paid an extra amount of coin to be notified if anyone asked about her. Did someone ask? Or was she simply paranoid to think John Slake would keep a watchful eye on Adeline Webber?
No, Miss Webber; no one has enquired after you. May I ask why? --Mm, no; no; definitely not. Just the one mistaken delivery, but I told them No. 3 was not your room, and all was set to rights.
A mistaken delivery?
Of what? From whom?
Adeline inquired for the information.
I'm sure I don't know. It wasn't for anyone here, and therefore was none of my business. Some other Webber. I suppose there are a number of those. I feel for that young man, though, given entirely the wrong street!
What did the young man look like? Did he wear a delivery uniform? Remembering the details of that night, Adeline would describe the dairy delivery uniform.
I'm sure I can't remember. He seemed pleasant enough. Nothing remarkable. --Miss Webber, I'm sure you remember the rules about fraternizing with young men, and respect those rules. If I find that this was some prank or trick meant to circumvent the rules, I'm afraid I'll be forced to respond with some severity in the interests of my other tenants.
Not necessary. Did he say what Webber he was looking for? Surely he had to give a first and last name to learn that this was the wrong Webber.
How can I remember, I have so much to do? It was a Webber in a No. 3 somewhere, and not you at all. I don't understand your persistence.
Someone was watching, Adeline was certain of it.
If they were looking here... then that meant they might have been looking at home.
Setting off towards the nicer side of town, Adeline went to pay a visit to old neighbors and see if anyone had inquired there.
The results were similar. No, of course no one had asked about her. But, oh yes, there had been a letter a man had been trying to deliver, but it was the wrong person, or the right person but he'd carry it himself. What did the man look like? Nothing memorable. A man. What more could be said? Nondescript. Average. Forgettable. Why, was something the matter? And just how are your dear parents? --They departed so suddenly.
Frustrated with the results, Adeline returned back to her flat. With an extra pence laid down for payment, she asked for a note to be given should someone else make a mistake of looking for the wrong Webber.
I know you're watching. The letter read. Perhaps we should talk. A.W.
All there was left to do was wait.
Uniformly, the encounters she heard about had been pleasant. Perfectly, utterly polite. What blurred away to nothing about descriptions of men who in no way registered as affecting anyone's lives hinted also at what might have blurred away to nothing in the forgettable chatter that acquaintances might make. Brief though the encounters had been, no doubt there had been some. My, what a lovely house, but it seems deserted! Who cares for it? My uncle had such a house, when I was a boy-- or I don't suppose your Miss Webber might return at this time of day, if I were to wait, so we might have her word on it? No? A working woman? How curious! But I suppose these are new times. Who hires girls such as her, do you know...?
Adeline's letter would be safely ensconced in a slot near the door, placed there rather skeptically but never discarded.
It was two weeks later that it was gone from that slot, and another three days before she had a caller at the door in the evening, rather rudely around dinner time.
"Stay here, Zephyr." She told the little blue bird that still had no name. "I do not want them to know about you."
With an affectionate pet along through little blue birds' backs, Adeline left her room and her dinner (a very simple cold cheese sandwich) behind to meet her caller.
She arrived in the front lobby wearing a pair of black slacks, cream colored shirt and a leather brown waist trainer over top. It was completely out of fashion and she could still hear the gasps and whispers when she made the commute to The Watchful Citizen that day. Hair pinned up in a loose updo, she skimmed the front entry for this mysterious caller.
John Slake himself stood in the entry, hands clasped one over the other, one holding his hat. Gentlemen were not allowed to progress deeper in the house, and that was what he presented, of course. A neatly dressed, perfectly clean, highly respectable man. He'd been disinterestedly eyeing a portrait on the wall to his right while he'd waited, but when she emerged she'd seen, first, how his attention shifted like a searchlight toward the hallway, and second how, after a second of flat observation, a puzzlement came in with a curious narrowing of his eyes and a tilt of his head. Not unpleasant, this puzzlement; not aggressive. Surprised, perhaps. He nodded hello. "Miss Webber? I received your message."
"I guessed you'd send Evans first. It looks as though we are both surprised." Adeline Webber replied. She spared a glance to the entryway where a woman with a crooked nose and silver hair watched with hawk eyes between the pair. "I believe it's high time you and I have a chat. Shall we?" Her ungloved hand gestured towards the entrance of the flat.
I guessed you'd send Evans--
Slake's eyebrows twitched upward a little at that, and when Adeline glanced to the woman (presumably her landlady), he stepped back and made a very slight bow from the waist. "It would be my pleasure to walk with you." If he eyed her attire, or reacted to it, it was hidden behind a talent for a general control. That eyebrow twitch might have been a breach of that control, or something he let through; either way, he said, "After you, Miss. --And thank you, madame; I'll see her back safe."
"I will be back before curfew." She added before stepping through the door and into the London street. No rain yet but the weather was known for taking a turn at a moment's notice. Adeline Webber began walking.
The man who came to her side had put on his hat and matched whatever pace she set. He didn't smell of any particular thing--not pipesmoke and not iron, but not factory soot or the sweat of a day's labor, either. He was, at least by appearances, of a class that didn't have much to do with any of those things. Her father's class, maybe. The comfortable working class.
His nose had a minor hook to it, and his mustache was tidy and the same dark brown as his thinning hair. He was handsome in a serviceable, average way. He could have been anything, anyone. A clerk. Yes, a banker. He could have been an accountant, or even perhaps a schoolmaster.
"Is this to be a random walk, or are you taking me somewhere, Miss Webber?"
Adeline walked a short distance, eyeing the man next to her from the side and realizing how easy it was for Slake to blend in. Even now, she had to keep some thought of him at the front of her mind like the clean trim of his mustache or the little hook in her nose. It was not magic. She was sure of that. But perhaps some people carried with them their own quiet kind of magic. A personal brand that made someone like Slake easy hard to spot in a crowd of people.
"A random walk will do just fine, Mister Slake." She answered. "Your men have been speaking to my neighbors and mistake deliveries to my flat. Why?"
He smiled a little--quite openly, and nodded. "I'm impressed that you noticed. I don't mind admitting it: I have an interest. --Professional, I assure you. --Tell me, did you notice before or after the word got out that I'd paid a visit to one of your acquaintances?"
He smiled while she did not.
"I anticipated you would do something - though I did not expect you to directly pay a visit." She looked at him with a skeptical eye. "You are much more hands on than I assumed."
His brows furrowed a little, though the smile was still there, and the mix of the two lent the impression of an easygoing curiosity. "May I ask why you anticipated that I would do something? And what, pray, you anticipated that I would do?"
"Because you are a snoop." Adeline answered.
"I beg your pardon?" The question was laughed out of him.
Adeline looked at him. "Am I wrong?"
He laughed again. "Well," he said sobering only a little, "I would then ask just what you hoped to talk to a snoop about."
"I attacked you, on purpose I might add, and yet you're watching me out of professional interest?" She quirked a brow. "I find that hard to believe."
He glanced at her. In the main, the look was mild and curious, but there was a blink there that came quick with surprise. "Then you left that note for my man to read--to bring to me, I presume--out of anticipation of arrest?"
"Yes." She nodded. "After all, I did try to attack you in front of former key members of the government and our King."
One eyebrow went up, and he looked to the side, dipping his head slowly as he processed that before his brow furrowed. "I suppose...." Slowly; he took it slowly, and was watching her again. "... a civilized man might ask why, exactly, a woman attacked him and then took pains to tell him about it." His look changed. "Would you like to be arrested?"
"It would save me from having to pay another month for an overpriced flat with little to offer. The food might even be better." Adeline said almost thoughtfully. "But no. Why would you have professional interest in someone like me - who is obviously very willing to lash out at you?"
"I admit that I'm puzzled by the tack of this conversation," he said after a moment, his expression showing exactly the confusion that he claimed. "I thought I made myself clear when I visited Miss Wickham. What different outcome are you pressing for, here?"
"Visiting Miss Wickham is not the same as visiting me." Adeline replied. "We are not the same nor should we be treated as such. What exactly is it that you do, Mister Slake, that makes you think I am qualified for a job?"
"Ah--what?" Nonplussed at last, the man stared at her as they walked, slowing down and stopping. Then he cocked his head and squinted again. "Oh! No, no, no! I did not mean 'professional' to mean that I was interested in hiring you...? Especially after--well, I must say, I've not ever had anyone so eager to outline to me in what way they are a menace to society, or so eager to bring the idea of 'arrest' to my attention."
"Then what professional interest?" Adeline stopped and looked at him.
He blinked at her again, as if it should be obvious. "My job is to be interested in certain sorts of people. But you know this already, Miss Webber. I only emphasized it in front of your landlady because she looked like she could curse anyone who fell short of expectations."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she did." Adeline said mildly. "So what is it that you want beyond, what - keeping an eye on people like me?"
"Miss Webber," he said patiently, "I feel I should remind you that you invited me, today. Otherwise, watching very likely would have remained merely watching, don't you think?"
"I did invite you." She said with a nod. "And you arrived. I believe my intentions are more for an understanding - much like how you presented to Miss Wickham."
His smile was crooked. "So you invited me, but hope for a lopsided conversation. I'm afraid I can't help you there, Miss Webber."
This time Adeline did quirk a small smile. "Can't blame me for trying." She shrugged one shoulder. "There is one thing I would like to know, if you are willing to indulge a young woman's curiosity."
"I've come all this way," he noted kindly, tipping his head toward her again. "But if I indulge a question of yours, I would hope to have your word first that you'll indulge one of mine in turn."
"Counter proposal - you present your question and I shall present mine and see if we come to a mutual decision before blindly agreeing."
"You like playing games," he noted. "I could simply leave, and lose little or nothing."
"The choice is yours." She offered.
John Slake reached up to tip his hat to her. "In that case, it was a pleasure to see you, Miss Webber, and I appreciate the lack of fisticuffs."
"Until next time, Mister Slake." Adeline replied, stopping her walk forward.
"I suppose so," he agreed, replacing his hat and stepping off the curb to cross away from her.
Three days passed since Adeline Webber's meeting with John Slake.
On the third day, she dressed for work. Packed what little she owned in a small work bag and made sure the little blue bird named Zephyr went with her that morning.
On the third day, Adeline Webber left the woman's boarding building for work and did not return.
Those was certainly looking for trouble if there ever was. They were watching the Flynns and they paid a visit to The Knightsbridge House. Adeline was under no delusion that her own flat, which was known for having multiple people coming and going, wasn't being observed as well.
Especially since her dislike for Slake was made clear in the Garden.
All she needed was to be patient and to watch.
A log book was created to keep track of those coming and going at the complex. She kept a careful eye on the streets below, watching to see who was interacting with those girls - did they come back the next day? Was there anyone who lingered long enough? She paid an extra amount of coin to be notified if anyone asked about her. Did someone ask? Or was she simply paranoid to think John Slake would keep a watchful eye on Adeline Webber?
No, Miss Webber; no one has enquired after you. May I ask why? --Mm, no; no; definitely not. Just the one mistaken delivery, but I told them No. 3 was not your room, and all was set to rights.
A mistaken delivery?
Of what? From whom?
Adeline inquired for the information.
I'm sure I don't know. It wasn't for anyone here, and therefore was none of my business. Some other Webber. I suppose there are a number of those. I feel for that young man, though, given entirely the wrong street!
What did the young man look like? Did he wear a delivery uniform? Remembering the details of that night, Adeline would describe the dairy delivery uniform.
I'm sure I can't remember. He seemed pleasant enough. Nothing remarkable. --Miss Webber, I'm sure you remember the rules about fraternizing with young men, and respect those rules. If I find that this was some prank or trick meant to circumvent the rules, I'm afraid I'll be forced to respond with some severity in the interests of my other tenants.
Not necessary. Did he say what Webber he was looking for? Surely he had to give a first and last name to learn that this was the wrong Webber.
How can I remember, I have so much to do? It was a Webber in a No. 3 somewhere, and not you at all. I don't understand your persistence.
Someone was watching, Adeline was certain of it.
If they were looking here... then that meant they might have been looking at home.
Setting off towards the nicer side of town, Adeline went to pay a visit to old neighbors and see if anyone had inquired there.
The results were similar. No, of course no one had asked about her. But, oh yes, there had been a letter a man had been trying to deliver, but it was the wrong person, or the right person but he'd carry it himself. What did the man look like? Nothing memorable. A man. What more could be said? Nondescript. Average. Forgettable. Why, was something the matter? And just how are your dear parents? --They departed so suddenly.
Frustrated with the results, Adeline returned back to her flat. With an extra pence laid down for payment, she asked for a note to be given should someone else make a mistake of looking for the wrong Webber.
I know you're watching. The letter read. Perhaps we should talk. A.W.
All there was left to do was wait.
Uniformly, the encounters she heard about had been pleasant. Perfectly, utterly polite. What blurred away to nothing about descriptions of men who in no way registered as affecting anyone's lives hinted also at what might have blurred away to nothing in the forgettable chatter that acquaintances might make. Brief though the encounters had been, no doubt there had been some. My, what a lovely house, but it seems deserted! Who cares for it? My uncle had such a house, when I was a boy-- or I don't suppose your Miss Webber might return at this time of day, if I were to wait, so we might have her word on it? No? A working woman? How curious! But I suppose these are new times. Who hires girls such as her, do you know...?
Adeline's letter would be safely ensconced in a slot near the door, placed there rather skeptically but never discarded.
It was two weeks later that it was gone from that slot, and another three days before she had a caller at the door in the evening, rather rudely around dinner time.
"Stay here, Zephyr." She told the little blue bird that still had no name. "I do not want them to know about you."
With an affectionate pet along through little blue birds' backs, Adeline left her room and her dinner (a very simple cold cheese sandwich) behind to meet her caller.
She arrived in the front lobby wearing a pair of black slacks, cream colored shirt and a leather brown waist trainer over top. It was completely out of fashion and she could still hear the gasps and whispers when she made the commute to The Watchful Citizen that day. Hair pinned up in a loose updo, she skimmed the front entry for this mysterious caller.
John Slake himself stood in the entry, hands clasped one over the other, one holding his hat. Gentlemen were not allowed to progress deeper in the house, and that was what he presented, of course. A neatly dressed, perfectly clean, highly respectable man. He'd been disinterestedly eyeing a portrait on the wall to his right while he'd waited, but when she emerged she'd seen, first, how his attention shifted like a searchlight toward the hallway, and second how, after a second of flat observation, a puzzlement came in with a curious narrowing of his eyes and a tilt of his head. Not unpleasant, this puzzlement; not aggressive. Surprised, perhaps. He nodded hello. "Miss Webber? I received your message."
"I guessed you'd send Evans first. It looks as though we are both surprised." Adeline Webber replied. She spared a glance to the entryway where a woman with a crooked nose and silver hair watched with hawk eyes between the pair. "I believe it's high time you and I have a chat. Shall we?" Her ungloved hand gestured towards the entrance of the flat.
I guessed you'd send Evans--
Slake's eyebrows twitched upward a little at that, and when Adeline glanced to the woman (presumably her landlady), he stepped back and made a very slight bow from the waist. "It would be my pleasure to walk with you." If he eyed her attire, or reacted to it, it was hidden behind a talent for a general control. That eyebrow twitch might have been a breach of that control, or something he let through; either way, he said, "After you, Miss. --And thank you, madame; I'll see her back safe."
"I will be back before curfew." She added before stepping through the door and into the London street. No rain yet but the weather was known for taking a turn at a moment's notice. Adeline Webber began walking.
The man who came to her side had put on his hat and matched whatever pace she set. He didn't smell of any particular thing--not pipesmoke and not iron, but not factory soot or the sweat of a day's labor, either. He was, at least by appearances, of a class that didn't have much to do with any of those things. Her father's class, maybe. The comfortable working class.
His nose had a minor hook to it, and his mustache was tidy and the same dark brown as his thinning hair. He was handsome in a serviceable, average way. He could have been anything, anyone. A clerk. Yes, a banker. He could have been an accountant, or even perhaps a schoolmaster.
"Is this to be a random walk, or are you taking me somewhere, Miss Webber?"
Adeline walked a short distance, eyeing the man next to her from the side and realizing how easy it was for Slake to blend in. Even now, she had to keep some thought of him at the front of her mind like the clean trim of his mustache or the little hook in her nose. It was not magic. She was sure of that. But perhaps some people carried with them their own quiet kind of magic. A personal brand that made someone like Slake easy hard to spot in a crowd of people.
"A random walk will do just fine, Mister Slake." She answered. "Your men have been speaking to my neighbors and mistake deliveries to my flat. Why?"
He smiled a little--quite openly, and nodded. "I'm impressed that you noticed. I don't mind admitting it: I have an interest. --Professional, I assure you. --Tell me, did you notice before or after the word got out that I'd paid a visit to one of your acquaintances?"
He smiled while she did not.
"I anticipated you would do something - though I did not expect you to directly pay a visit." She looked at him with a skeptical eye. "You are much more hands on than I assumed."
His brows furrowed a little, though the smile was still there, and the mix of the two lent the impression of an easygoing curiosity. "May I ask why you anticipated that I would do something? And what, pray, you anticipated that I would do?"
"Because you are a snoop." Adeline answered.
"I beg your pardon?" The question was laughed out of him.
Adeline looked at him. "Am I wrong?"
He laughed again. "Well," he said sobering only a little, "I would then ask just what you hoped to talk to a snoop about."
"I attacked you, on purpose I might add, and yet you're watching me out of professional interest?" She quirked a brow. "I find that hard to believe."
He glanced at her. In the main, the look was mild and curious, but there was a blink there that came quick with surprise. "Then you left that note for my man to read--to bring to me, I presume--out of anticipation of arrest?"
"Yes." She nodded. "After all, I did try to attack you in front of former key members of the government and our King."
One eyebrow went up, and he looked to the side, dipping his head slowly as he processed that before his brow furrowed. "I suppose...." Slowly; he took it slowly, and was watching her again. "... a civilized man might ask why, exactly, a woman attacked him and then took pains to tell him about it." His look changed. "Would you like to be arrested?"
"It would save me from having to pay another month for an overpriced flat with little to offer. The food might even be better." Adeline said almost thoughtfully. "But no. Why would you have professional interest in someone like me - who is obviously very willing to lash out at you?"
"I admit that I'm puzzled by the tack of this conversation," he said after a moment, his expression showing exactly the confusion that he claimed. "I thought I made myself clear when I visited Miss Wickham. What different outcome are you pressing for, here?"
"Visiting Miss Wickham is not the same as visiting me." Adeline replied. "We are not the same nor should we be treated as such. What exactly is it that you do, Mister Slake, that makes you think I am qualified for a job?"
"Ah--what?" Nonplussed at last, the man stared at her as they walked, slowing down and stopping. Then he cocked his head and squinted again. "Oh! No, no, no! I did not mean 'professional' to mean that I was interested in hiring you...? Especially after--well, I must say, I've not ever had anyone so eager to outline to me in what way they are a menace to society, or so eager to bring the idea of 'arrest' to my attention."
"Then what professional interest?" Adeline stopped and looked at him.
He blinked at her again, as if it should be obvious. "My job is to be interested in certain sorts of people. But you know this already, Miss Webber. I only emphasized it in front of your landlady because she looked like she could curse anyone who fell short of expectations."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she did." Adeline said mildly. "So what is it that you want beyond, what - keeping an eye on people like me?"
"Miss Webber," he said patiently, "I feel I should remind you that you invited me, today. Otherwise, watching very likely would have remained merely watching, don't you think?"
"I did invite you." She said with a nod. "And you arrived. I believe my intentions are more for an understanding - much like how you presented to Miss Wickham."
His smile was crooked. "So you invited me, but hope for a lopsided conversation. I'm afraid I can't help you there, Miss Webber."
This time Adeline did quirk a small smile. "Can't blame me for trying." She shrugged one shoulder. "There is one thing I would like to know, if you are willing to indulge a young woman's curiosity."
"I've come all this way," he noted kindly, tipping his head toward her again. "But if I indulge a question of yours, I would hope to have your word first that you'll indulge one of mine in turn."
"Counter proposal - you present your question and I shall present mine and see if we come to a mutual decision before blindly agreeing."
"You like playing games," he noted. "I could simply leave, and lose little or nothing."
"The choice is yours." She offered.
John Slake reached up to tip his hat to her. "In that case, it was a pleasure to see you, Miss Webber, and I appreciate the lack of fisticuffs."
"Until next time, Mister Slake." Adeline replied, stopping her walk forward.
"I suppose so," he agreed, replacing his hat and stepping off the curb to cross away from her.
Three days passed since Adeline Webber's meeting with John Slake.
On the third day, she dressed for work. Packed what little she owned in a small work bag and made sure the little blue bird named Zephyr went with her that morning.
On the third day, Adeline Webber left the woman's boarding building for work and did not return.