Sanji lifted a spoonful of the brown soup up to his mouth, savoring the familiarity of it and feeling it warm him gently from the inside out. Cossette had outdone herself. The chunks of beef and lamb required no effort to chew through. He could taste the carrots and parsnips, their earthy sweetness blending in the Madeira.
And has he ate another spoonful, the words of the stooped man back in White Chapel came back to him. The soup became bitter in his mouth. There was a time in his life when Sanji had eaten spoiled food. He remembered the bitter taste on his tongue still after all these years and how his stomach rebelled, forcing him to vomit it back up. He remembered being on his hands and knees, crying with frustration at his own body for being to weak to keep moldy bread down.
Sanji had been but a young boy, only nine years of age, when his father threw him into a long-forgotten prison cell hidden deep in the manor's dark basement. He and a neighbor boy, Lady Didit's son, had been caught by his brother Niji reenacting a scene from one of Sanji's favorite books.
Sanji played the part of Rowena and Sabo, being older and stronger, was Wilfred of Ivanhoe. It was one of their favorite games, to reenact and reinvent their favorite books, to get new life out of old stories. Sanji had tried explaining to his father that he didn't always play the role of the lady, but it only made sense for it to be him as he was smaller.
His father's face turned such a deep shade of red that it looked purple. Using the back of his hand, he struck Sanji hard across the face, knocking him to the ground and causing his ears to ring.
"I will not have a degenerate for a son. If I have to strengthen your character by starving the flesh, so help me, I will."
Reaching for his glass of port, Lord Sanji wished nothing more than for this day to end. It was full of only difficult memories and burdensome emotions. The one silver lining was the kindness of the police constable and even that made his heart heavy. He could not think of those small coins and how brief the comfort they would bring the poor child.
A dry cough brought him out of his reverie. Kuro stood at attention, his hands behind his back. He addressed Sanji's father, his eyes and expression invisible behind his glasses. "With your pardon, Lord Vinsmoke, but Mrs. Robin Nico has arrived with her companion, the Mr. Cutty Flam. They are currently ensconced in the parlor."
"Ah, unexpected news, but not unwelcome. Let them know I'll be joining them shortly."
"Very good, my Lord." Kuro gave a short bow and exited with Sanji trying to carefully watch him. Everything the butler did was above reproach, but Sanji could not shake the feeling there was something off about the man.
As Sanji's father stabbed a piece of pork from his plate and brought it up to his mouth to chew, he addressed his sons. "Finish up, quickly now. You're to join me in the parlor. We need to present a united front when I speak to this Russian minx." He chewed his meat, pocketing in one side of his mouth and then said thoughtfully. "I do enjoy a good battle of the wits. Steel sharpens steel, as they say."
At least the day would end on a good note. Mrs. Robin Nico was extremely intelligent but, unlike most of his father's friends, she actually looked as if to enjoy Sanji's company. She always made a point of speaking with him at length about the writers and books they liked in common. In was one of the few social situations where his father seemed almost pleased with him.
Sanji finished the rest of his soup with careful efficiency, today's events still high in his mind. He could not bear the thought of wasting one drop of it, as doing so seemed but an act of arrogance when there were so many going to bed hungry in the East End.
He finally excused himself from the table. Only his father and Ichiji remained, deep in quiet conversation. His father appeared to be giving his oldest brother instructions, though Sanji could not hear what was being said.
Knowing it was going to be a long night of talking and posturing, Sanji sought first the lavatory before heading to the parlor. There was a discreet one hidden near the kitchens and he headed down the poorly lit hall going its direction.
Turning a corner, though, Sanji stopped himself short. There were two voices, one which recognized as Niji's and the other he had more trouble making out at first, but he knew it was a woman and that she was quietly crying.
Leaning back against the wall, he held his breath and listened.
"I told you. I don't want anything of you except some money to get rid of it! I tried already but the tea didn't take."
It was Cossette.
Sanji heard his brother snarl, "How do I even know it's mine?"
"You know! You know!" Cossette sniffled.
With an icy chill starting in his stomach and spreading outwards, Sanji realized what the conversation was about, and he knew his brother was a complete villain. Recalling her bruises, he knew Cossette did not lay with Niji willingly.
He heard the sound of a hand smacking a wall.
"I don't have any money. Do you only ask to mock me? Or do you want me to ask father for it? Would you like that?"
Cossette started crying in earnest now. "No."
Sanji heard the wall being hit again. His brother was trapped. If Cossette had a child, there was a strong chance it would carry the distinctive Vinsmoke eyebrows. It was a hereditary feature that never skipped a generation.
"I'll meet you in the kitchen, early. I'll find some damn trinket that won't be missed. You can pawn it and pay for what you need. And this better be the last I hear of it. Do you understand me?"
Sanji did not wait to hear Cossette's response. He retreated from the hallway, walking away as quickly as he could still do so quietly. He found the other lavatory and splashed cold water on his face. He felt completely helpless, just as he had earlier today in the East End.
Here he was, surrounded by the trappings of wealth but without two crowns to rub together unless he begged his father. He had a title, but no purse to go with it. He was just as useful as the empty suit of armor gathering dust on third floor stairwell.
There was no one he could ask for help, not without betraying Cossette's secret and risking her job. Mrs. Nico would likely be sympathetic, but she was an acquaintance and not a close friend. He could not ask her to intervene in such a private family matter.
He thought over his own belongings, if there was anything he could pass on to Cossette as well. He had his books, some of them were quite desirable. A plan began forming and he felt better for it as he finally made his way into the parlor.
There he found Mrs. Nico on the divan. She smiled at him as he entered the room and patted the empty spot next to her. "So glad you made it, Lord Sanji. I was beginning to think you had retreated upstairs to pen more charming missives to that adorable Miss Pudding."
Sanji opened his mouth to protest, but she turned to Sanji's father, who was seated next to her, with a small table between them.
"What a terribly clever boy you have. Men scheme and hatch a dozen plans to secure their futures and to amass fortunes and here he has, with only mere manners and sweet courtesy, seized his. You must be so proud."
"Well," said his father, sitting upright. "It was actually under my direction - "
"You tutored the boy in the ways of love?" asked Mrs. Nico in teasing disbelief. She laid her gloved hand over his bare one. "Please, I must hear more of these lessons."
Sanji could tell that Mrs. Nico was emphasizing her accent, knowing what it caused many a weaker man to fall under her spell. His father was no exception.
"Well, you see, my little nightingale - "
"Or perhaps, instead, you could sing for me? You have such a striking baritone."
"How could I turn down a request from such a beautiful woman?" Sanji watched his father kiss Mrs. Robin's gloved hand, his lips looking especially large and fleshy against the white, unspotted satin. "Shall I play for you as well?"
"But of course! It would be an honor, my Lord."
The arrogant look on his father's face normally would have caused uncharitable thoughts to cross Sanji's mind, but he had an inkling of Mrs. Robin's ploy. Shortly after Lord Vinsmoke began to play the parlor piano and had started singing, Mrs. Robin, pretending to pay attention, directed a question at Sanji.
"I heard you had an interesting day in Whitechapel. How did you fare?"
Perhaps it was Mrs. Robin's enigmatic, Mona Lisa smile that drew Sanji in, convincing him that she was a worthy confidante. Or maybe it was because, over the past couple of years, she had kept his secrets. At least, as far as Sanji knew. He had never suffered any consequences so far for speaking freely with her.
Sanji told her the story of the entire day, leaving out any mentions of Cossette.
"Your constable sounds like a good man in a hard line of work," Mrs. Nico told him after he finished his tale. "You and the Daughters of Paradise were quite lucky that chance intervened. From what you told me, it sounds as if the crowd was ready to tear you all apart limb from limb."
"Providence granted us a divine mercy. He shall deliver thee in six troubles: yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee," Sanji replied back with more serious than she had given him.
"But evil touches Whitechapel still, does it not?" quipped Mrs. Robin. "I understand that was, besides Ms. Pudding's ample charms, part of the reason you accompanied her today?"
"The murder - " Sanji started.
"Murders," corrected Mrs. Nico. "I have it on good authority that the police are covering up a similar murder."
"What? Why?" asked Sanji incredulously, only remembering to keep his voice down at the last minute. He and Mrs. Nico both made sure to look over at Lord Vinsmoke, but he was focused on his sheet music.
"I imagine they are under orders from someone quite powerful. As corrupt as the police force is, most of the men do have a line they will not cross. Only a very small handful know that the two murders are related," Mrs. Nico answered.
Sanji nodded his head in agreement. The constable he met today, he was certain, would not try to hide the connection. "They're putting those women in danger by not revealing this truth."
"Indeed. And they are protecting the killer as well. I wonder why that is and if it's intentional."
"This man, this despicable, foul - I hardly dare call him a man, for he is truly a monster, must be stopped!"
"Who says it has to be a man? Women are capable of violence as well, as much as you may be loath to believe it. Why even the good Judith cut off the head of Holofernes and I sorely doubt she ever felt any guilt over the act."
"That's apocrypha," argued Sanji.
"Not in the church I was raised in," admonished Mrs. Nico. "You're a sweet boy, but there is more to the world than your Book of Common Prayer. You are far too intelligent to stay bound within its covers."
"Please accept my apologies. I didn't mean any offense. My tongue and passion got the better of me. I simply cannot imagine a female committing these acts of violence, especially against one of her own. As if Ms. Pudding could - "
And here Sanji paused, remembering his fiancee's words about the little pickpocket. If she has legs to steal, she has legs to work.
"As if she could ever hurt another creature," he finished with far less conviction than he had started with.
Mrs. Nico watched him for a moment, her smile replaced by something that wasn't quite a frown but very nearly there. Then she spoke, lowering her voice to make certain only he could hear. "From what the coroner's report said, someone with a hunting background and access to medical textbooks could have killed the women. Plenty of women hunt, Lord Sanji, including your Ms. Pudding."
Sanji drew in a breath, but before he could respond his father finished playing and was looking around the room. Mrs. Nico was already standing up, the smile returned to her face, and she was clapping softly.
If one was cynical, it would look like she was mocking Lord Vinsmoke. However, Sanji could never believe that of such a beautiful and intelligent woman. Even if their conversations sometimes left him feeling most uncomfortable.