Georgiana and the Wolf
By DJ Clawson
This is the seventh story in the "A Bit of Advice" series. You'll probably find it more interesting if you go catch up with the others, but this story is rare in that it stands somewhat alone if you're attempting to just read about a daughter of the Bingleys, though you may find her a bit odd.
Chapters posted twice weekly.
Author's note: Some of the Japanese has not been translated yet. If you speak Japanese, please PM or email me.
Chapter 10
Audley gladly shook the man's hand, so stunned that he had not decided to put himself in the categories of belief or disbelief, either one reasonable. "You – you are?"
"Yes," Maddox said, reaching into his waistcoat and producing the very letter Audley had written him, now almost two weeks ago. "I came immediately upon reading it. Couldn't help myself – very interesting stuff. And I'm obviously a bit of a nomad. But you look exhausted – would you sit with me?"
"Of course," Audley said, scrambling into his seat. "Of course. You have no idea – well, I'm a bit surprised to see you, to say the least. I only requested a translation – "
"– of the kanji. It's wolf, of course. I had to look it up myself." Brian Maddox, a man with graying black hair and probably in his forties or fifties, had a very pleasant manner of speaking. "But the story you told was very interesting. Not the sort of thing we see every day. And I had to be in this area on some business anyway, so I thought, why not stop by? I hope I'm not intruding on your investigation."
"No! Not at all," Audley stammered. "Not at all. Though you did translate the kanji in the French edition, which I only discovered yesterday in someone else's home. It seems your book is quite popular."
"Good for me, I suppose, but bad for your case, no? It doesn't narrow down the list of suspects, assuming we're looking at your murderer."
"No," Audley said, still flustered that Brian Maddox was sitting across from him so casually. He gratefully took the wine Camille brought for him. "But that is assuming it was written by the murderer. And that there is only one." He continued, "Mr. Maddox, since I wrote you, there have been two more murders."
This seemed to disturb Maddox. "Two?"
"Yes."
"Goodness. I didn't know my work was going to be inspirational in such a fashion!" he said. It was meant to be lighthearted, but it didn't come out that way. Maddox was suddenly rattled, possibly by the severity of what he was facing – but what else was he expecting to find? "Well, I suppose you can hardly tell me everything. I'm no French detective."
"Just as you left things out of your book."
This did bring a smile to Maddox's face. "So, you figured that out? I suppose so, as you're an inspector. I'm more regularly accused of making things up to put them in than purposely leaving things out. Except for names and places, of course. I don't want to force the publicity on my family."
"I read your book recently," Audley said, "and I admit that parts of it were a bit – hard to believe – but there were definitely things you left vague. Like what happened to your bodyguard in the Japans."
A shadow crossed over Maddox's face. "Yes. Miyoshi. That was very personal and Nadezhda – my wife – and I decided to leave out the details."
Audley nodded. So it had all been true – Maddox was too invested in it for it to be otherwise. That or he was a terrific actor. "There are things that amused me and fascinated me, but at the moment, I seem to be called to a thousand places at once. Perhaps we will trade details later tonight?"
"I would be honored, Inspector Audley."
Audley raised his eyebrows. "I would be honored, Mr. Maddox."
Now that the infamous Brian Maddox was in town and at his disposal for some unknown reason, the last person Audley wanted to speak to was the marquis. He recognized, however, that it was a necessary part of the job, and so when he was fed and his face washed, he went quickly to the de Maret Manor. He was ushered into the marquis' study. The marquis himself did not acknowledge him at first, seemingly rifling through some book instead. Audley knew the tactic – making him wait in humiliation.
The marquis finally closed the book. "It is good to see you back on the case, Inspector Audley."
"I was never off it," Audley said. "I had investigations elsewhere."
"And they were?"
"Once again, I am forced to remind you – I am not obligated to report to you, Your Lordship. I keep my own counsel and will until this matter is settled."
The marquis turned to him angrily. "And when will it be settled, Inspector? We have three dead people and four dead livestock. Your only lead – these so called 'bandits' in the woods – disappeared while you were gone."
Audley swallowed, but did not verbally reveal that this was new information to him.
"Yes, that's right. A group of men from town got together, put the pieces together themselves while the famous inspector was off gallivanting to G-d-knows-where, and went into the woods. It would have been a blood bath, but it seemed the bandits had already moved on, and quite hastily. Their camp was still set up, the fire still lit – or so I am told. But now the killer – or killers – are gone."
Audley was not cowed. "It seems as though someone must have tipped them off for them to leave so conveniently quickly. I wonder who could have done that. Someone with something to gain for the killers not to be found?"
"What are you implying, Inspector? Or attempting to imply?"
Robert Audley made the decision to have no more patience with this man. He was still standing, not invited to sit or offered refreshment like a normal guest. He was still tired from his journey and he was eager to get back to the tavern and speak with Mr. Maddox. "If you are attempting to cover up your previous records by dismissing your servants, then it does seem convenient that the last remaining former servant, an old woman with no connection to Simon Roux or the bandit found outside the Murrell house, would be killed as soon as people start asking questions. You would certainly benefit from that, would you not?" He stepped forward. "And what of Miss Murrell, or Sophie as you know her? Surely your intended would not take well to the idea that you took liberties with your female servants, willing or unwilling. Unfortunately for that man, still unnamed, he met with the real Wolf, saving Sophie's life. Had she been killed, it would have been another victory for you – if not for the Wolf."
"Very clever, Inspector Audley," the marquis snarled, not backing down either. "And Simon Roux? The very reason you are here? The very reason I hired you?"
"That you bribed my superiors to get me here is of no concern to me. I answer only to the law. And no, I have not made that connection yet – but I intend to, if it is to be found."
"So you will forget his killer, then?"
"I will find his killer, and however many more there may be. And I sense I will not be terribly surprised with the outcome." He bowed, excusing himself. "Good day, Your Lordship." And then he turned, and walked out.
"Audley!" the marquis howled. "Don't get foolish ideas in your head from town rumors! It is dangerous to accuse a noble."
"It is dangerous to kill a noble," he replied, "but it was only a quarter century ago that they were so readily doing it. Remember your place, Maret."
"And you remember yours! Audley! Get back here!"
But Audley ignored him, and turned his thoughts to other things as he breezed past the doorman and back out into the afternoon sun.
"Is it true?" he asked Anton upon returning to the tavern. "Did a mob really descend upon the woods to look for the bandits?"
"Yes, Inspector," Anton said. "But they found nothing – only the camp."
"Which they ransacked, of course."
"I imagine. I was not there."
Audley rubbed his chin. "I don't suppose any of it is left – or maybe something is." Already, a plan was forming. "Well, we shall see. Tell me, where is your other guest?"
"Mr. Maddox? I believe he has gone out on some business. He said he will be back before dark, hopefully."
Yes, Mr. Maddox said he had some business in the area. But what could he possibly have? Maybe he was just interested in the case. From the way he wrote and the way he spoke, the Englishman was obviously an obsessive fellow, curious about all kinds of oddities, and rumors of a werewolf and a murder mystery would entertain anyone. Maybe Audley had revealed too much in the letter when he briefly summarized the case to explain why he needed a quick response – he just hadn't expected the response in person.
Or maybe Maddox would be an asset. If his stories were true, he was an incredibly resourceful person, and he owed allegiance to no one, though he seemed to favor Audley. Audley did not dismiss him yet. He decided to proceed cautiously. These new developments would take thought. "I will take my meal upstairs. And will you have Camille prepare an overnight package of food?"
"Going on another journey, Inspector?"
"We shall see," was all he said as he nodded to the barkeep and headed up the steps to his room. He would need his energy for tonight, and not just to talk to Brian Maddox.
Audley took dinner early. Not finding Mr. Maddox in the tavern, he knocked on the door next to his room in the upstairs inn. "Hello? Sir Maddox?"
There was some shuffling before Maddox opened the door. "Sir Maddox is my brother. Unless there's a tall, blind doctor staying here, you're out of luck." He was dressed in a multi-colored blue bathrobe and sandals.
"I'm sorry – I hadn't realized you'd retired," Audley said, bowing.
"What? No, I haven't. I just – have been rather distracted." He stepped out into the hallway.
"Are you always armed?" Audley said. He had noticed Maddox's sidearm, in the form of a small blade tucked into his cloth belt.
"Yes," Maddox said. "A samurai is always armed."
"You weren't when I met you before."
"Of course I was."
"You were not."
"Think hard, Inspector."
Audley focused on their first meeting at the bar. "Your walking stick."
"Very clever. Come in, Inspector Audley."
There were no changes to Maddox's room – it was identical to Audley's except that Brian Maddox had a few more personal items with him. Audley noticed a curved sword on a stand that certainly didn't come with the room. There was a rack for another blade, and Audley noticed the matching, smaller version was the one in Maddox's belt. He said nothing about that as Brian picked up his walking stick and held it up vertically. It looked like an ordinary English walking stick from afar, complete with the copper top but the wood was a lighter shade than normal. Now that he saw it up close, Audley noticed a small line in the wood.
"Observe," Maddox said, and pulled open the stick, revealing the hidden blade. It was straight but still bizarre, and he handled it with great skill, holding it up for inspection.
"What is that?" Audley said, not daring to touch the wavering line in the steel.
"The hame line – where the steel was folded to create the blade." He closed it back up in a quick but elaborate ritual of drawing it to the side against the case and inserting it. "Not a great blade, but good enough to take a man's head off."
Audley huffed. "That's still an excellent blade." He tapped the cane on the wood. "Is this – "
"- the walking stick I was given in Japan, yes. I added the English top to make it look the part when I returned."
"And you say it can take a man's head off?"
Brian smiled coldly. "As we discussed, I left things out of the book." He put the cane back in its place, resting against the wall. "Now, I apologize, Inspector, but I find myself quite exhausted from all my traveling and will be retiring early. I must be getting old. Can we perhaps delay our discussion until tomorrow? Unless you have a question relevant to the case, of course?"
"No, nothing I can think of. It can wait, certainly." Audley bowed again. Brian returned it, and Audley exited the room. "Good night."
"Good night, Inspector."
Audley doubted it, but he smiled anyway.
Audley set off early in the evening, not waiting for the witching hour this time. By now he knew the woods well enough to find his general direction without much trouble or a light. He moved in relative silence, heading in a straight direction to the old bandit camp. The trip took him well over an hour, or so he guessed.
It was, in fact, abandoned – and hastily so. It was recognizable not only because of the remains of the fire, but also because some of the tents were still up, at least in part. There were crates around, and he rifled through them, finding them empty of anything interesting. These people had left in a haste – but not too much of a haste. They had long enough to collect all of their important things, leaving behind only enough remains to make it look like they scurried away at the sounds of the approaching horde of townsfolk. In other words, they had been warned in advance.
Sighing, he wandered away from the camp, having exhausted his leads there. He did not dare head towards the wolf den, knowing full well they had not killed all the wolves. I am just lucky this forest is now un-trapped.
He headed slowly in the direction of town, lost in thought, but not ready to return to the road. I'm near the marquis' manor, am I not?
That was when he heard it – the distinct shuffling of leaves not from himself. He had stopped moving to ponder his location, so it was someone else. He spun around, drawing his pistol. "Hello?"
It was knocked out of his hands with a long metal bar. Where it went, he did not know, but he had the instincts to reach for his other pistol, hidden in his coat. He fired at the man approaching him, but it missed as the bar swung again, this time hitting him square on the head, near his left temple.
And then howling; the terrible howling. Not from the man. He recognized that much as he helplessly dropped to his knees, at least trying to maintain upright. His attacker didn't strike again when it came out of the trees in a flash of light grey fur, landing between Audley and his assailant.
The last thing he saw before his vision faded was the furry back of the Wolf, and as he collapsed, the human legs on wooden sandals.
"Inspector? Inspector Audley?"
The sweet voice was not as insistent as it was gently prodding, to draw him out of his state while a soft compress was applied to his head. "... Georgiana?"
The figure, blurry as he painfully opened his eyes to daylight, stepped back. "Since when have I been 'Georgiana'?"
He swallowed. His senses were not coming back quickly, especially with the pounding in his skull, worse than any hangover. At least he had the good fortune to be lying down with his head on a pillow. Somewhere, he heard the rushing of water. Everything smelled of nature – were they still in the woods? "I'm sorry," he mumbled, as his vision focused on the red-haired figure that was, indeed, Georgiana Bingley, seminary girl. She was dressed up properly too, nothing askew in her appearance as she wiped a wet towel across his forehead. "Miss Bingley."
"Inspector Audley," she said. In her position, kneeling beside him as she tended to his wound, it was impossible for her to curtsey. His scope of vision limited by his position, he immediately tried to sit up – and the wave of dizziness brought him back into that blackness that had engulfed him earlier.
"Don't try that again," the voice came, and when he reopened his eyes, she was in a different position, on the other side. Some time must have passed. "You're concussed. You shouldn't sit up yet. Here – drink."
"I – "
"I said, 'drink.' I won't say it again," she barked, forcing the cup to his mouth and leaving it there until he swallowed all of the water inside it. It tasted a bit odd, like she had added something to it – perhaps honey, because it was also sweet. "There. Now for goodness sake, stay still."
He settled into his pillow and the blanket he was laying on – not uncomfortable at all, but not matching his surroundings. They seemed to be in a cave of some sort, with light coming in from behind him – that much he could tell – and down at the end, a blur. A wall of water. "Where am I?"
"My little grotto. No one else has used it in a long time because now a waterfall runs over the entrance – you have to get soaked to get in. I discovered it a few months ago," she said, putting the cup away and seating herself on the rock formation that served as a sort of bench. "In case your investigative mind is not working at full speed, which I wouldn't blame you for, the Wolf brought you here."
"How – how long was I out?"
"Since midnight, at least. It's nearly nine now." She appeared tired, as if she had been tending to him for a long time.
"You – don't you have school?"
She rolled her pretty green eyes. "The headmaster and I have an understanding."
He raised his eyebrows. It was quite painful, but it had its effect.
"I haven't reported the lax security in the seminary, what with allowing girls to walk along the roads at night, and I haven't reported the attempted violation of two of them by Mr. Roux. And other incidents I won't go into." She stood up, moving in and out of his range of vision as she tended to whatever things she had behind him. "My uncle owns half of Derbyshire. My father nearly owns the other half and has a monopoly on the silk trade to England. My other uncle is a knight of the realm for his loyal service to His Majesty. In other words, despite my lack of a title, I am in a position of extreme influence, should I care to use it."
"You could have Robinson's shut down," he concluded.
"Precisely. And in return for not doing that, I come and go as I please. Within reason, of course. I still have to attend the classes I haven't already completed the final exams for – most of the time. Besides that, my time is my own."
"Very clever," he said with a smile. "Blackmail."
"If money were exchanged I would call it that, yes." She had this self-bemused look on her face that distracted him from his pain.
"And you're working for the Wolf."
"No, Inspector, I am not." She said it and he believed it – he was fairly sure he could tell when she was being outright dishonest. She lied by changing the subject or answering with a question.
"But you just said – "
"Whatever relationship you perceive me to have with the Wolf is irrelevant to me. The point is, you are here and I am going to see to your well-being until you are well enough to return to town."
"Did you alert the authorities?"
"The authorities want you dead, Inspector Audley."
To this, he had no immediate reply.
"Not officially, of course. But there is an unofficial price on your head – 500 francs."
"Quite a sum."
"Yes," she said. "It does narrow down the candidates for who is offering it up in exchange for your head." She leaned in – another thing he did not mind at all. She did have such bewitching eyes. "You are upsetting his bandits, Inspector. That is a very bad idea."
"His bandits?"
She sighed. "Why do I have to do all of your detective work? The marquis controls those bandits. He supplies them with food and supplies in exchange for their loyalty – and their willingness to do certain deeds."
"Like killing Mrs. Bernard."
"Precisely. And attacking Miss Murrell's house."
"I did find her – Miss Murrell," he said. He did not give a thought as to why he was seeking her approval so eagerly. "She's safe in Mon Richard."
Georgiana's face legitimately brightened. "Thank you, Inspector. I am in your debt."
"It was my duty to see to her safety – to everyone's safety. Including yours."
"Mine?"
"You don't think you're making an enemy of the marquis by aiding me?"
"How does the marquis know I'm aiding you? He barely knows my name. Besides, the Wolf is aiding you, no?" She passed him a small bread roll. "Eat. And don't be fussy about it."
It was fresh bread, not the stuff he had in his bag. It was delicious. "Thank you."
She let him digest his breakfast and disappeared out of his vision for a while, messing with something behind him, probably supplies. His headache was getting better, but he didn't dare sit up. If she was right and he had a concussion, that would put him out for a few days, at least. "Will I be safe at the Verrat if I return there until I am recovered?"
"Yes. I've asked your new neighbor to guard you."
"Mr. Maddox?" How had she arranged this? It mystified him. "How do you know him?"
"You mean Uncle Brian?" she said. "Did you even read the book?"
"I did," he said defensively. "He doesn't name his relatives, except his brother Danny – who he said is now a knight – "
"Right. Daniel Maddox, who married Caroline Bingley, my father's sister. In the second book he mentions his business partner Charles – they work in the silk trade, I told you. Charles Bingley is my father." She offered him another roll, which he declined, but he took a sip of wine from a flask. "I confess I haven't read the book properly. I know the stories by heart because he used to tell us when we were children – it was terribly exciting stuff. A little gruesome, but exciting."
"Then you probably know the real versions."
She smiled. "When my father and uncle returned from India – which is the subject of the second book – they came home with two differing accounts of what they did while there. Papa's was much more sedate. He wouldn't admit to entering a martial contest with a wushu master just for the fun of it in Cathay. Uncle Brian paid the guy off not to kill Papa. He just knocked him over three times before my father had the good sense to give up."
Audley laughed. It was more than a bit uncomfortable, but he felt, well worth it. "You come from a very cultured family."
"No, I just have a father obsessed with the East and an uncle who ended up there while fleeing his father-in-law. It's all happenstance."
"Do you speak any of the languages?"
"Japanese. Some Hindi, but it's too strange, and no one knows it but Papa. Unfortunately, the 'language of the Orients' is not considered an acceptable language to fulfill my seminary requirement and I still must take Latin, a language that has not been spoken in over a thousand years."
"Clearly, they are not as enlightened as you."
She smiled at him. He was lost in it for a moment, saying nothing. She must have noticed, because she said in a slightly louder and more insistent voice, "Are you tired, Inspector?"
"Yes." He had to admit his strength was fading. He was just enjoying the conversation too much to let it overcome him. "A bit."
"Then you should sleep a little. I have to return for drawing class anyway, so if you wake up and I've not returned, promise me you will not try to leave on your own."
"I promise."
"Good." She replaced the bandage on his head, which she had removed to clean. "Sleep well, Inspector."
He was sure he would.
When Robert Audley woke, he was indeed alone. Having no idea what time he fell asleep, even checking his pocket watch would not help tell him how long he had slept. If Georgiana had been telling the truth – and he could find little reason to doubt that she was – he was safer here than he would be returning to town alone, wherever "here" was. She had left him some food and his satchel. A quick inspection revealed that nothing inside it was disturbed, or appeared to be so. The only other thing in the cave besides the mat and pillow was a locked trunk in the corner. Normally he would make some cursory attempt to pick the lock, but he could barely sit up, much less navigate with his pick. Holding his head up on its own made the room spin, so he settled for leaning against the cave wall. He opened his notebook, but the words were too hard to focus on.
He'd fouled this mission, he was sure of it. His health was already in serious danger, and without aid he would not solve the case – when he was so close. He knew the marquis was guilty of murder. He knew the Wolf was guilty of murder. At least one of them was guilty of assaulting an officer of the law. But did he have evidence? Did he have witnesses?
He cursed and fought another wave of pain as the world went blurry.
"I told you not to," Georgiana said as she straightened him out, putting a pillow behind his head. "Now look at you. Do you even know what a concussion is?"
"You've touched me," he said. "On somewhere other than my hand. Ungloved. I think we must be married now by English law."
"How unfortunate that we're not in England, then," she said, without skipping a beat as she guided him back down. He lay on his side this time.
"Littlefield said you were promised to someone – back home," he mumbled. "Is it true?"
She looked away quickly. "Is that what she said?"
"In not so many words."
"... I'm not betrothed," she said, her voice wavering before she regained it. "No. I don't know why she said that."
He blushed. He had overstepped himself and it was agonizing. "She only told me – it was for your own good. I can't explain it." Without making it worse. "It was part of a larger conversation."
"Of course," she said coldly. "Because you ask so many questions." She stood up, walking out of his line of vision. "Even ones that are none of your business, Inspector."
"Miss Bingley, I'm sorry."
She said nothing. He heard some movement behind him – she was doing something or another and he couldn't see it. He swallowed and sat through the awkward silence before saying, "How was your class?"
"Fine."
And then, silence again. He sighed, and closed his eyes. It was too tempting to lie there, pretending to be asleep. He only realized he hadn't been when he awoke with the metallic taste of sleep in his mouth.
"You're sleeping too much," Georgiana said, slipping into his view and kneeling beside him. There was nothing dismissive or playful in her voice – it was more like genuine concern. "Have some tea. It should keep you up a bit longer this time."
"I assume you don't know an apothecary that can be trusted? Perhaps Monsieur Lambert?"
"He's a mortician and you're not dead yet," she said, some of that playfulness returning to her voice. "Can you sit up on your own?"
He tried – he really did. Eventually he was sitting up, and each time he wavered, she caught him and got him upright again – something that, while frustrating, he could not help but enjoy quite a bit. When he could hold his own, she forced him to drink two cups of tea, which did something to straighten his senses. "Can I stand?"
"I don't know. Can you?"
He smiled. "May I, Dr. Bingley?"
"The sooner you are returned to civilization, the better, I think," she said. "Try. Here." She offered her hands and with a surprising amount of strength, helped him to his feet. "How do you feel?"
"All right," he lied. "Just – give me a moment, please."
"I'll carry your things."
"Thank you."
"And you, if I must."
"Thank you," he muttered, half out of his wits for a host of reasons. In the end, she put his arm around her shoulder and guided him along the walkway. The waterfall did cover most of the entrance, and they had to walk on a path along the stone ridge and at one point, through a wall of water before emerging into the sunlight soaked. "Ow." The water hitting his head had been enough to rattle him. She helped him sit down, resting his head against a tree. The sound of the water was soothing, and the sunlight dried his hair and his clothing. She must be wet too, he imagined, because his eyes could not focus to see Georgiana in her muslin dress, clinging to her body –
G-d help me.
"You will keep my secret?"
Which one? "Of what?"
"This is my haven. Not even my uncle knows of it and I have no intention of telling him."
He smiled weakly. "I won't say a word." He had only the vaguest idea of their current location, but imagined he could re-find it easily enough by simply following the stream.
"Why are you helping me?"
Georgiana returned to him, holding a stick. "Because you need it. Here. We can't be seen with you leaning on me or Iwill have to marry you."
"I would laugh, but I think it would hurt," he said as he got to his feet, leaning heavily on the makeshift staff. Her red hair against the green trees was easy to focus on, and their slow walk continued until he saw blue in front of him.
"Jorgi-chan, (are you sure this is the right thing to do?)"
"(I need him)," Georgiana said. "Please. He can barely stand."
Audley wasn't going to deny it. Brian Maddox – as it apparently was – took the sword he had been holding and slid it into his belt to free his arm to take hold of Audley's swaying body. "Audley-Keibu," he said, his voice deadly serious, "I've been hired to protect you. That includes guarding your health. We must return to the tavern." Brian, Audley now noticed as his eyes refocused again, was wearing a patterned blue robe and navy pants as wide and pleated as a skirt. "Georgiana, are you coming with us?"
"I have some time before I should be back."
Audley was honestly struggling too hard to stay upright to notice Maddox's expression as the three of them walked back to town. In fact, he remembered little as he was practically carried up the stairs and allowed to pass out on his bed in the inn.
It was night when he woke again. Definitely sleeping too much. His head still hurt.
He had been injured. The case was out of control. The most logical thing to do was to request help from Paris – but he would be dismissed by the arriving investigator, who would not do half the job, and it would go on his record. And Audley had other reasons. Once he got himself inside a case, he couldn't drop it. It was why he was so successful, so early in his career. He wondered if all the great inspectors were so obsessive.
He was improving, in that he could sit up and see clearly, but not for terribly long. He made no serious movements. He needed time to think.
"What do you think?"
"I don't know."
If he closed his eyes and focused, straining his ears, he could hear them. It was Georgiana and Brian Maddox, he realized, talking on their porch next to his. Why was she still here? He slid into the chair beside the window as quietly as possible, leaning his head against the wall for strength.
"How could you not know?"
"I know how this has to end. I don't know how to get there."
He heard Brian Maddox sigh in response.
"You don't have to say it!" Georgiana said rather sharply, hard on Audley's ears. "I know I'm in over my head."
"At least you admit it." Maddox's voice was half-passive, sort of depressed and anxious. "But you don't know everything, Jorgi-chan. Even if you think you do."
"I know you didn't tell Papa you were coming here."
"Hmph. So you could have logically concluded by the fact that he didn't run here himself like a madman. Your parents sent you to seminary because they were concerned for you."
"They sent me because I asked to go."
Whether this was new information to Maddox, Audley could not tell. He was only listening to voices, and they were still a distance away, and his own perceptive skills were not at their peak.
"How is everyone?" Georgiana asked more softly, perhaps seeking to change the subject.
"Fine. Except for Geoffrey, of course. You succeeded in your plan to put him in a foul mood. We had to put up with it at Christmas."
"What? Does everyone think that?"
"No. Just me. And perhaps, Charles."
"Papa wrote me a Christmas letter."
"And he said the same thing?"
"Basically."
Again, silence.
"What about my patient?"
"Your patient? A young lady has no business nursing a man. Unless she is actually a nurse with medical training. Which, of course, you are not." His tone was a bit harsher than before. "Unless the customs are different in France."
"I saved his life!"
"Yes, congratulations."
There was a noise. Audley was not sure what it was – perhaps Georgiana storming off. Realizing he might soon have guests, Audley returned as quickly as possible to his bed. He was not wrong in this assumption – Brian appeared with a candlestick and a tray of food. "Good evening, Audley-Keibu." He was dressed in a similar fashion, two swords tucked into his belt. This is what a Japaner person must look like, Audley thought. He was also wearing sandals with white socks. They were not made of wood.
"Why do you call me that?" Audley said with curiosity, not accusation, as he slowly sat up.
"Keibu means Inspector. It is a very honored position."
"Is there a lot of crime in Japan?"
"Very little. He is more of a hero to the peasants, who have no one else to protect them. They cannot afford samurai and samurai don't care for them." Maddox sat down next to him and offered up a plate of food. "Eat."
"Is that an order?"
"It's a good idea."
He slowly consumed his food under the watchful eye of Mr. Maddox. Maybe it was the swords on his side that made the Englishman that much more intimidating, but his concern seemed genuine enough – and genuine enough for him to enforce it.
"Are you dizzy?"
Despite the fact that he had been upright for some time now, Audley replied, "No."
"Does your head hurt?"
"Like I was trampled, yes."
"I hear you practically were." Maddox took the empty plate from him, setting it on the tray. "As far as we know, you can trust the owner – Anton?"
"Yes."
"And the girl. Camille. But I'll be on guard, anyway." He turned back to Audley. "Do you need to write to anyone?"
"If I report this, they'll take me off the case."
"So?"
"So? Someone will just come in and do whatever the marquis says, hang some innocent rogue for being the Wolf, and leave. Like it should have happened, if all went according to plan. But they got me instead, and I have this rather silly idea that the law is not upheld to the whims of nobility."
"How unfortunate for this marquis that I've heard so much about."
"All good things, I'm sure."
"He seems to be a rather infamous character."
Clearly, Georgiana had told her uncle her version of everything. Audley had no doubt that she would. This newcomer probably knew more about the Wolf than he did. Could he trick the information out of him? It depended how good his bodyguard was with his swords. "Indeed."
"Inspector, you look tired. The color's gone out of you. Here," he said, passing him a cup. "Drink this before you pass out."
Audley did as he was told. It turned out to be a very sweet wine, and it was the last thing he remembered as he slid back into bed.
To Be Continued...