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The last time I was here, he practically kicked me out of the door when I left. I’m surprised it didn’t leave my arse bruised. Today, however, he’s all grace and niceties while he ushers me through the chequered hallway, along portrait-draped, panelled walls. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s got my insides knotting anxiously.
When I look back, Mary is watching us from the bottom of the stairs, holding my backpack in one hand and my violin in the other. A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth before she starts up the imposing staircase.
“Mr. Kent asked to see you,” the butler tells me when we reach what looks like the door to a study. After a brief knock, he opens and holds it for me to enter.
The rich scent of leather and cigars hits me instantly, followed by the warmth of burning pine. There’s an indistinct murmur of music coming from the gramophone to the side of the doorway.
Weird place to put a record player, I think to myself, listening to the scratchy vintage sound. This place is a time warp. History engulfs every one of my senses as I walk deeper into the space of dark floor-to-ceiling panelled walls, brass fixtures, and rich, jewel-toned furnishings.
“Eve,” Percival sings from behind a large mahogany desk.
Although the evening outside is balmy, a fire is crackling in the hearth below a group portrait of men. They’re all in similar dinner suits to the ones the men were wearing when I was here last. On their faces, they carry stern expressions that make them look cold and auspicious.
“They’re the founders of the club,” Percival tells me as he comes to stand beside me. “That right there—” He points out the man in the bright red jacket. “That’s King George the Fourth. He was one of the more extravagant and frivolous monarchs. He had a penchant for collecting precious things…beautiful things.” With a side glance, he grins at me. “Something that hasn’t been lost in his kin.”
Percival’s not a small man, but his presence now doesn’t feel at all as imposing as it did the other night when the other men were present. Maybe it was the sombreness of their mourning. Perhaps it was the novelty and the curiosity of being in the same room as those powerful men. It doesn’t matter how many maybes I think of, it’s him that comes to the forefront of my mind every time. It’s him I remember as clear as rain. Dark eyes, warm skin and a volatility that kept my heart chasing its own rhythm for dear life.
“I have your contract for you to sign.” Percival extends the papers towards me. “You’re going to see things that might make you uncomfortable. Hear things that might shock you. But what you must always remember is that what goes on in these walls stays within these walls.”
“I understand.” I take the papers from him, glancing over the page before I read through it.
“If you have a problem, you come to me first.” When I nod, he offers me a gold pen. “If anyone comes to you with questions about the club, you come to me directly.”
“I don’t talk to many people, so…” With a shrug, I take the pen from him, weighing it in my grip as I read through the last clauses of the paperwork.
It’s near on identical to the one I signed for my one-night stint, barring the clause that stops me from taking on any other jobs while I’m employed here and another that demands regular health checks by their appointed physician.
“People will approach you about the club, Eve, and you must maintain confidentiality at all times. In all things. If you fail to do so, there are consequences beyond the termination of your contract.”
“I have my own doctor, and I get checked over regularly.” I change the conversation because I know what working at these places entails. During my time at Heath House, I learnt very quickly that the men who frequent these places guard are precious about their privacy. They guard themselves with everything they have.
“Yes.” He smiles, moving on. “I’m aware of your medical history. I told you before, it’s my job to know everything about everyone that walks through the door of the club.”
“But…but you can’t—”
“There is no I can’t, won’t, or shouldn’t when it comes to protecting the club and its members. I know everything, Eve, as I need to protect and look after you. I’ll provide you with the medication you need, and you won’t say a word to anyone about it. Especially not the Duke.”
I nod. It’s obvious he knows more than he wants to vocalise, and if he’s going to help me get the medication I need, I’m not going to argue with him. Even if I feel completely vulnerable.
My condition isn’t something I share with many people. When I was little, it made teachers treat me differently to my classmates, and as I got older, having a nontransmissible blood disorder made people around me uncomfortable. So I stopped talking about it to anyone. Von Willebrand doesn’t make me a leper; it just makes paper cuts sort of deadly.
“The men are going to like you, and it’s important that you don’t fight them. For your safety.”
“You said no one would touch me,” I snap back, peeling my eyes from the dotted line that I was about to sign.
I’ve already quit the coffee shop and my bartending gig at Heath House. I need this job if I’m going to pay my rent and afford to pay for my prescriptions as well as food.
But… “I don’t want them to touch me. I-I’m not a—” I stop myself from finishing the sentence. I’m not in any place to judge anyone for doing what they have to in order to get by. It’s simply that I’m not comfortable going to those lengths myself.
“Trust me, if everyone knows what’s good for them, they won’t even look at you for too long.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s an order to things in this world.”
The Duke’s remark from the other night rings in my thoughts. He’s here to serve and please, just as you are.
“You mean rank.”
