Author's Note: Sorry this is so late. Getting settled in a new house, along with some other less fun matters, have sapped time and energy.

I also want to thank the guest reviewer who took the time to explain the reason why Darcy and Bingley (and by extension John) would not have studied together at Eton. I will add that I did some (minimal) digging to see if the age span of students during the Regency period mirrored that of modern times (13-18) and didn't find much beyond an unreferenced mention of students as young as 10 being flogged. So I took that ball and ran with it, making John and Charles lads of eight when starting at Eton (even though at that age they would likely still be learning at home), my goal being to allow enough time to establish a strong bond with Darcy during their overlapping time there. So, that part is probably artistic license as well!

Chapter 28

The small front room of the run down boarding house provided them with ample opportunity for observation, while playing upon an old rivalry is what provided them with the room. Willie, with accent completely devoid of Etonian influence, was allowed to do the talking and was convincing in his role.

'My friend and me, we'll be lookin' for work and need a room for a few days, till either we get the work or the money runs out." A crown slid across the table as proof that such a thing existed. "We went to the house across the way, but didna' care much for that lady. That one's got a bee up 'er bonnet, she does."

Rendered sociable by the combination of money and the unflattering reference to her rival, the matronly woman clucked in agreement, "Two fine young lads, such as yourselves have no need to be stayin' in that place. You done the right thing comin' 'ere," her voice lowered to an almost whisper, and she leaned towards them in a conspiratory manner, "She calls that place a boardin' 'ouse, but you wouldna' believe the goin's on over there. It's shameful, is what it is!"

"Ach! That's too bad!" Willie's hand reached to retrieve his coin. "I need me sleep, miss. I was goin' ta' ask for a front room as I need the sun to wake early, but if we're in for a ruckus out that way, then maybe I need to go elsewhere?"

"Oh, no, no, no! Not a ruckus, lad! Her dirt's done all quiet and secret like. You'll get a good night's sleep, you will!"

Both John and Willie knew that a good night's sleep was the furthest thing from their minds, but they looked at each other as though taking this into consideration. Finally, John nodded tersely, and Willie once again released his crown, "All right, miss. We'll be takin' one of your front rooms then."

"Very good lads! You'll be glad you did," Looking at John for a moment, the woman added, "Your friend 'ere don't talk much, does 'e?"

"No miss, he's a mute."

"Oh, what a shame!" Making the common assumption that muteness meant deafness and that speaking louder would solve the problem, the woman addressed John with volcanic pitch, "Well don't you worry about a thing, lad! My name's Mrs. Parker, and I'll be takin' good care of ya', I will! Put some meat on them bones of yours!" To emphasize her determination she patted John's back with motherly enthusiasm, then led the two of them to their room.

Suppressed mirth had to wait till that good woman took her leave again.

By taking turns, the two were able to keep watch and catch a few hours of fitful sleep. So far they had to acknowledge that their landlady had spoken the truth. Mrs. Younge's house could just as well have been a monastery as quiet as it was, but it soon became apparent that something very un-monastic was going on there.

A tap on the shoulder was all that Barrow needed to come fully awake. Following the tilt of Willie's head John went to the window and peered down at the street below. A fantastic sight awaited him. It was a parade of sorts, a bizarre parade. Transposed against a solemn backdrop of acrid blue-gray sky and jumbled buildings rendered even more decrepit by darkness, five gaily plumed young women made their way from the boarding house down towards the docks. For all of their tawdry finery there was a weariness about them, as though they had made this trip countless times before. Mist rolling up from the river obscured their feet, giving the ethereal impression that they were walking on clouds. But John rightly suspected that no such heavenly destination awaited them.

"They're bound for the ships sir," Willie's observation was on the mark, and John nodded in acquiescence.

There were no further attempts at sleep that night, as John and Willie pondered over what they had seen. It would appear that their Mrs. Younge was an astute business woman with a practical talent for diversification. In addition to more conventional usage her boarding house did double duty, providing lodging for other less diversified business women. Women whose business took them down to the docks where they had but one thing in the world to sell.

"I'll wager that there's even more going on over there than we know at present. I wonder how much our Mrs. Parker knows?" John mused out loud.

"I would hazard a guess sir that she knows far more than we do."

"No sense in her keeping it to herself then, is there?"

Willie had seen a certain light in Barrow's eye, and knew that his master's curiosity was getting the better of him, and his growing excitement was contagious. "Absolutely not, sir. And, if you don't mind my sayin' it, I think you'll have no problem gettin' it out of that one."

John replied by way of raised brow.

"It's as plain as day sir," Willie's mock innocent smile nearly split his face in two, "She's sweet on you, she is."

As though in confirmation of this, there came a knock at the door. The subject of their discourse entered with a tray laden down with ample sustenance for breakfast. Willie's brow arched significantly upon noticing that Barrow's portion was nearly twice his own. This was, as explained by that generous woman, to compensate for John being such a 'poor, thin, deaf little thing'. Determined to see that he would eat it all she stayed, hovering over him in her attentions.

"Ain't he a dainty one though? Just look at 'im. You'd think he were a gent'l'man for all his fine manners and sparse appetite," Her voice raised in pitch as she turned to address John, "Come on now, lad! Buck up! You'll need your strength, you will!" From time to time she gave him pats on the back by way of encouragement, once with violence enough to send whatever was on John's fork over to Willie's plate. Willie, who was not overly scrupulous about such things, continued to dine with only the briefest of pauses. Wearing an almost imperceptible trace of a smile, Willie made certain to meet his master's eye before returning with full attention to his eggs, toast and rasher of bacon. The lady showed kindness enough to take her leave not long after this, and fortunate for all, it did not take Willie very long to divert his flush faced employer out of an uncharacteristically foul mood.

Chapter 29

Since John was now, for reasons unknown, more than willing to put measurable distance between himself and Mrs. Parker's attentions, whatever information that good woman might have at her disposal would have to wait. As it was already understood that they were to go 'in search of work' first thing in the morning, they left for the docks immediately after breakfast. There would be more than enough to keep them occupied where they were headed. Willie still had connections on the docks, former work mates who would find a way to steal a moment or two of idle gossip with an old friend. Someone there was bound to have some knowledge of Mrs. Younge's activities.

Knowing by prior instruction which questions to ask, and by instinct how to be discreet about it, Willie would once again do the talking. John, whose accent would certainly brand him an outsider, kept up his role as mute, this time playing the role of Willie's cousin. As such he was conveniently ignored, leaving him completely free to concentrate on everything said and seen. There was one person in particular that Willie was anxious to speak with, a man known to all as 'Stumpy'. Stumpy Smithers was so named in honor of his right arm, or what was left of it after an unfortunate encounter with a grappling hook many years ago. No longer able to do heavy manual labor, he had been reduced to performing simple, menial tasks for his bread. But no one knew this place as he did.

"Ah, so you done seen the midnight promenade, have ye' lad? Right reg'lar, like clockwork. But only for certain ships, mind. Let me tell ye' lad, that mistress 'o theirs is a fine piece of work..."

Stumpy briefly considered if, and how much, he should tell Willie, then decided there would be no harm in giving him a tidbit or two. A little friendly gossip wouldn't harm anyone, especially if you were careful who you told. Willie was one of their own. He was a smart lad too, and would know better than to go spouting off. And so Stumpy let down his guard. Without going much into detail, he told of an unusual business arrangement involving smuggled spirits, a tavern, and a brothel. A partnership of sorts, of the highest order. The very best alliances of this nature provide a balance whereby all profit to satisfaction, and all the principles involved were very well satisfied indeed. They dealt only with goods of the highest quality, and not a shilling ever passed between them. If one end of it fell, it would be difficult to connect the other parties involved. And what went on was enough to stand one's hair on end.

One thing Stumpy did not tell was that he knew of these activities for a reason, as he played a small but vital role in them. For an extra bob or two it was his job to help divert the authorities' attention away, allowing a well-covered cart to pass under additional cover of darkness on its way to a certain tavern. Suddenly thinking his candor ill advised, Stumpy gave his friend fair warning. Willie should not be asking about these things, for around this place idle curiosity could kill a man.

"Mind who you go 'round askin' a'boot such things, lad."

And Willie would have done well to take such advice, for although certain his friend had asked in all innocence, Stumpy would find a way to cover his possible error. And even better, he would be loyal to both sides and make a bit of change in the process. While never naming Willie's name, for the few extra few shillings it would bring, Stumpy let Bert Younge know that someone had been lurking around. Leave it to Bert to find out who it might be.

But Albert Younge did not need to find it out, for in his mind he already knew who it was. His errand boy had first pointed the man out to him, and his face was now committed to memory. If he ever saw that man again he would kill him without a thought.

~~O~~