“I have,” said Jasper. “I know the proprietress.”
“‘Proprietress’?” asked Mrs. Templeton-Rath, suddenly sounding interested. “Ah, perhaps wewillpop in. Mr. Townsend, I’m glad we’ve caught you. We’ve brought you a pie.”
“‘A pie’?” Jasper repeated stupidly, his eyes falling to the dish suspended in Miss Templeton-Rath’s hands. “Thank you?”
“It’s from me,” said Miss Templeton-Rath, clarifying with a slight flush in her cheeks. “To thank you for saving Hubris and Squalor that day on the pier. I should have sent it a week ago. You must forgive my tardiness.”
Jasper opened his mouth, but no response came out.
“We also wished to come and thank you for your prompt delivery of the laborers we needed,” Mrs. Templeton-Rath continued, nodding toward the pie. “They have already begun clearing out the parcel we purchased and identifying repair needs in the current building, which should be sufficient for a forwarding post. We are going to sail out to the nearest crane today to get the lay of the land, and we wished to invite you to join us.”
“Oh,” said Jasper, blinking. “Oh, I can save you that trip. It is covered in rust but well-oiled for mobility. It has a bit of a reputation for giving sailors who use it the lockjaw.”
“‘The…’ ‘The lockjaw’?” the husband repeated, frowning. “Good Lord. Well, that won’t do. Surely, there’s another one nearby.”
“Not for several knots down,” said Jasper, eyes still on the pie, but mouth grateful that they were talking of cranes. “There’s Big Belle on one side and the Ballast on the other, but they are both very busy. I recommend petitioning or financing a repair of the Reaper for your purposes.”
“‘The Reaper!’” Mrs. Templeton-Rath gasped.
“The Rusty Reaper,” Jasper confirmed, flicking his eyes up to meet hers. “They all have names here.”
“Well, of course they do, young man,” she returned with a sniff. “Seafaring culture is not that different on our side of the globe, I’ll have you know. But we shan’t finance it entirely ourselves; that’s hardly sporting. We’ll need to find a barrister and petition Brighton herself.”
“I don’t suppose your usefulness extends to barristers, Mr. Townsend?” Mr. Templeton-Rath asked, his lips twitching at his wife’s ire. “It would save us some time.”
“I know one,” Jasper admitted, a queasy trepidation swimming in his kidneys. “But he’s a good one.”
“Well, we only need the one,” Mr. Templeton-Rath replied sportingly. “Shall we go deposit this pie in your office? It’s made with our own cinnamon and honey, you know.”
“Oh,” said Jasper for the dozenth time, blinking his vision back into order. “Yes, erm… this way!”
He turned on his heel to lead them back to the EIC office, only to see Malcolm walking through the doors just ahead of them.
Why? Whynow?
Had Jasper offended God?
“Actually,” he said, dishonestly, “I’ll carry it. The clerks will descend upon it if I leave it in the office.”
“Carry it where?” Mrs. Templeton-Rath replied, a hint of her husband’s amusement in her voice as Jasper reached out to balance the dish atop his folio.
“Erm,” said Jasper, frowning, “I was going to go work in a nearby public house, but I could take you directly to the barrister, if you like?”
“Capital,” said Mr. Templeton-Rath, bouncing on his toes. “Both? I say both. Let’s get an early lunch and then go grapple with the law.”
“Both,” Jasper repeated, cursing the mire he’d put himself in. “Right. Follow me.”
*
He realized afterthey were seated that he should have taken them toanypub in Brighton other than the Coin and Cauldron.
Any of them. But this one.
“What’s lunch today?” he asked the barman as they filed in, knowing it was too late to turn around and flee.
“Oh!” said Mrs. Templeton-Rath happily. “Aprix-fixe.”
Which had only made Jasper stare at her.
