Page 57 of Infernal Vices

“Aye, fear not, boy. I’m just here to have a word with Mr. Ashe. Don’t forget your sketch book, my friend!” I winked and then turned and made my way out of the stables. I waited outside for Charles to emerge, looking a little sheepish.

“How did you know where I was? Are my intentions that easy to read?”

Charles hooked his arm through mine and we walked together towards the gardens. “Please, Charles, do not insult my intelligence. You and that strapping young man shared sparks on your first meeting. I was in no doubt as to where you’d be.”

“Am I that transparent? Hmmm, fair enough. Isn’t he exquisite though? William is a delightfully needy lover. I must say, when he looks at me my tummy goes all fluttery. That’s never happened before.”

I turned to see Charles was blushing. “So that wasn’t just a tumble? You like him!”

“I do. He’s sweet and wild and so funny. You should see him with the horses, they adore him.”

I reached up and picked a strand of straw from his hair.

“Gods! Am I covered in straw? I need to bathe; I am feeling…a little itchy downstairs,” he admitted, his hips writhing as he walked. “Maybe there’s straw in my underpants?”

I laughed, “No, you’re not covered. You did quite well under the circumstance, just a little in your hair. Let’s hope the itching is just from the hay!” Charles gave me a playful thump on my arm.

“Why were you looking for me anyway?”

“Curiosity…about the letter you received from America.”

“Oh yes, that. I was going to tell you. It was the documentary evidence I was waiting for–the proof of identity and documents detailing the crimes he absconded from. I have a dossier full of evidence now.”

As we got closer to the house Charles pulled my arm directing me away from returning to the terrace. Shallow marble steps led down to a spacious lawn with a pathway bisecting it that led to an Italianate manicured hedged garden designed in a grid pattern. Between the evergreen hedges there were flagstone paths that lead to sculptures in the Greek style, of nymphs, satyrs, goat and bull-headed men.

“Why are we not going back to the terrace?” I grumbled.

“Forgive me; I’m trying to remain circumspect. One of the Cavendish ladies seems to have taken quite a shine to me and she has sought me out several times to speak about my art. Apart from my mother and dear Cecily I’m not at my best in the company of women,” Charles admitted.

“Ladies want to mother you, don’t they?”

“Yes, and it makes me feel more uncomfortable than this itching in my drawers! Miss Martha has taken it upon herself to pursue me as a suitor.”

“Oh dear, you did foresee this possibility,”

“Only in jest though!” Charles harrumphed. “But I’ve seen the moony way she looks at me and it makes me unnerved. Come now, we’ll walk to the pond. I’m actually glad you found me as I also have something else I’d like to discuss.”

I unhooked our arms and we continued side by side. I was grateful that we were taking a more leisurely pace now as the afternoon was becoming quite warm and I was beginning to perspire. I undid the top button on my collar and loosened my cravat as we walked in silence. What Cavendish had named the pond, was actually closer to a large boating lake. Jack Dancer and his wife were in a boat at the far end, his young wife holding a parasol as Jack rowed. We waved and they waved back. A summerhouse of bright white stone sat on the far side of the pond looking at peace in the landscape, surrounded by budding trees and verdant shrubs. We took a seat on a wooden bench and Charles then removed a cigar from his jacket pocket and struck a match. He puffed on the cigar for a moment and the fragrant blue grey smoke lingered lazily before a breeze took it away.

“I think we have another ally in our midst,” he announced.

“Who?”

Charles gestured to the couple in the row boat. “Jack. We both know how seriously he takes his job and that he’s a stickler for the rules.”

“Yes, I’ve seen him in action and he is a fierce investigator. He has quite the reputation of being, relentless. They call him the hound, you know!”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that moniker but it does suit him–especially when it comes to the way he gives a good hard fucking!” Charles laughed.

I recalled what Sebastian had told me and I did not find Dancer’s disdain for the fairer sex funny at all. “Dancer is a married man. He may be moral when it comes to upholding the laws of the land, but he’s yet another bloody hypocrite—happy to bend his rules of morality but only when it comes to his desires.”

“Many of our proclivities are married,” Charles said. We were silent for a moment before more testily he added, “Look, not one of us is beyond reproach, but in this endeavour, Jack can help us. I want to tell him the truth…about Blake.”

“Why the sudden wish to bring another into the fold?”

“Jack and I were up late last night playing cards. We drank too much.”

I raised a brow; this was quite the habit for my younger friend!

“I mentioned that I was a little concerned about the final ritual—that according to the translated scroll Leo and Lawrence would need to find true death, even for a moment, before the supposed power in the Staff of Asklepios would work and resurrect them.”

I was worried too. Sebastian and I had conversed, wondering what they would use to invite death. Sebastian believed Blake would prefer a drugged elixir, as he was partial to mixing narcotics.

Charles took a deep inhale of his cigar and then puffed it out. “Jack told me that things had gone far beyond what he was comfortable with. He didn’t believe a glass cock could actually resurrect a dead person and he’s been feeling deeply torn about the whole affair, but he couldn’t back out for fear of exposure.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, we both love the companionship and sex but…what Blake is proposing isn’t even theosophy, is it? What Blake proposes is a bastardization of spirituality and ancient Greek ritual. Leo is naïve and desperate for attention. Jack is as worried as we are about what Blake will do to bring on death. Can you imagine the scandal when Blake’s plan doesn’t work and he kills the boy? We would have an international scandal on our hands…two dead bodies at the country house of a member of parliament, and one of them a twenty-two-year-old visiting German aristocrat,” he shook his head. “The guest list for this little country excursion alone would be called into question.”

“Very well. Having Scotland Yard on our side would be of benefit. We’ll need to have a private chat with our Detective Inspector Dancer and make him aware of the real sordid story behind Blake’s great work.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement, my friend. I’ll make arrangements for after dinner, tonight.”

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