The morning headline two days later read "Lord Cassandra Gladstone Exposed As Fraud." The story detailed an anonymous tip, with evidence, given to the police, and a confession given by the eldest brother of the bombing ring.
Needless to say, Gladstone protested the accusations with righteous indignation, though he was arrested anyway-the threat held a great deal of weight, much more than the amount of money given as bribes for silence. With the confession and article, the Yard was under a great deal of public pressure to make the arrest-not even an aristocrat could escape such a scandal unscathed.
Earl Hargreaves had succeeded in exposing Lord Gladstone, then… The trial date was set quickly, but Gladstone disappeared long before, rumors of cowardly suicide or avoidance of responsibility surrounding his escape.
Without a single close relative or a defined will, let alone a defined death, the estate would be bickered over by second and third cousins for months, if not years. Many of the other servants had already left. Lizzie had found a place at the word of one of her friends, Mrs. Elliot had been hired by the Jamesons. They were cutting the staff, drastically, and Riff knew he only had a limited time before he, too, would be without a job.
For the second time in his life, Riff had no idea what to do.
Earl Cain Hargreaves caught him on the street, when Riff was so wrapped up in his own thoughts the young man had to actually grab his arm to earn his attention. Needless to say, the earl was the last person he expected to see.
"You know," the nobleman said casually, looking up at him with a devil-may-care smile, "I don't believe I ever caught your name."
"…Riff Raffit," he said slowly, wondering what on God's good earth he was getting into now.
He continued to smile. "I'm glad I ran into you-I was not looking forward to coming to that ghastly manor again. I was thinking that, well, clearly there's been some trouble with that particular household recently, most of the servants must be looking for new employment…"
"…Are you offering me a job?" Riff asked skeptically. However interviews were supposed to go, and he'd never had a proper one, really, he was fairly sure this wasn't it.
"Yes." The smile widened. "As my manservant. Or valet, if you prefer."
If Riff hadn't already been blindsided by the offer, he certainly was by the position. "As what?"
"Don't pretend you're not intelligent, Mr. Raffit, we both know it's not true. I want to hire you as my valet."
"Surely, Earl Hargreaves, you have an appropriate one already-"
"Poisoned himself. Accidentally, of course. It was transdermal, and I did warn him not to try to clean up my laboratory. Besides, I have reason to believe his bookkeeping was never quite accurate. Once he recovered, I fired him. Though he did give me some decent qualitative data," came the flippant reply.
Riff blinked, trying to follow the quick subject changes. "Earl Hargreaves, I am a footman. Someone who actually has experience as a valet, who possesses those credentials, would surely be more helpful."
"I suspect you'd learn the job quickly enough. Besides, you're intelligent, clever, already make allowances for what idiosyncrasies you know of, and aren't afraid of me. I certainly consider those adequate credentials." The nobleman took a step back, cane tapping against the sidewalk. "I expect you to report to my manor house tomorrow by-oh, say, two o'clock?"
Riff blinked. "…Friday," he bargained instead. "I can't tomorrow."
Earl Hargreaves raised both eyebrows and tilted his head to one side. "You have plans?"
"Yes," Riff said firmly, hoping the earl couldn't see the flutter of joy reflected on his face, as seemed to always happen when he thought of Miss Mary. Tomorrow. He swallowed.
"…Very well," he conceded after a long moment. "Friday, but by noon on Friday. I would like to go over your salary and the duties expected of you."
"If I take the job," Riff reminded him. Miss Mary didn't seem to approve of Earl Cain Hargreaves as a matter of principle. Working for him might be difficult…
"…If you take the job," the earl agreed with a nod, though there was curiosity in his eyes. "Either way, Friday at noon?"
"…Yes, sir." Riff bowed to him reflexively, and, with one last unreadable smile, the earl turned to go.
A/N: Posting a little bit early, because things are happening to me tomorrow like classes and tests and studying and papers I really ought to finish. Something of a short chapter (sorry!), but I like this one. Oh, Cain. You just love to scandalize Riff...
Akami: The story is entirely completed, yes, and should be 20 or 21 chapters in total. I'm not sure whether to split up the final chapter into two or not, but it'll probably be just one. As for word count, it's over 20k... and for your worries about the summary-well. That would be telling, wouldn't it? I actually expected people to figure everything out pretty quickly-I'm surprised no one has.
I'm glad those scenes in particular amused you. I'm afraid that's the last we'll see of Lizzie, but she did, after all, find another job and settled down somewhere else. And I've always kind of wondered if, in the canon, Riff was aware of that particular talent of Cain's. (He picks the lock on his and Mary Weather's bedroom door in Butterfly Mansion, Volume 3 of Godchild, to cite the source of that moment's inspiration.) It's just something so blatantly CRIMINAL, I have difficulty imagining him actually approving, you know?
And I shall leave you all until next week, with a final plea for reviews! Again, tell me what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong, and if any of you have guesses about what may happen in the end... Feel free to send them.
