Page 58 of Infernal Vices

CHAPTER 30

GOOD FRIDAY NIGHT

As was usual, we went our separate ways after dinner. The ladies retired to the parlour to converse and play cards. The gentlemen went for a smoke, and then to the games room for billiards, dice, and card games. Leo, Nissa and the Cavendish twins returned to the music room to entertain one another with songs and dancing.

Mr. Fairfax did not join us for gaming. A bad hand of cards gave an excellent reason for a tantrum and an out for Charles, so he left the games room first! Ten minutes later I feigned exhaustion and followed, and as arranged, Jack Dancer sidled away next.

We all met up in the Gentleman’s Parlour. When I arrived Sebastian was already there. He had set the fire, and arranged the chairs in a circle. Ashe locked the door when Dancer entered. We each took a comfortable leather chair and shared pensive gazes. Neither Ashe, I, nor Cavell knew how Dancer would react to the troubling news we were about to share.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve invited you for a tête-à-tête at this late hour,” Ashe began cordially, easing his way into Dancer’s confidence.

“I must say I am intrigued by the secrecy and mystery,” the detective said, his expression unreadable. “We have not yet had a chance to converse, Mr. Fairfax, and so I wonder what your involvement is in all of this.”

“That will become clear quite soon, Milord. I must say first and foremost, there is no need for lies and obsvucation. I am aware of the…appetites you share with your select friends. We are all friends here, are we not?”

Jack Dancer sent his vulpine gaze to fix on Charles and then on me, and seeing that neither of us was alarmed, he nodded.

“I’ll begin by asking, how long have you known Lawrence Blake?”

Dancer sat back, relaxing into his seat and he answered with a casual air, “Ah, so this is about Blake. Very well. Benjamin introduced us around nine months ago, I’d say. At the Garrick if I’m not mistaken. Benjamin is an old friend from prep school and because of that we were aware of one another’s…appetites, as you say.”

“What of you? How long have you known Mr. Blake?” He directed the question to Charles.

“I met him at the Athenaeum with Benjamin.”

I jumped in then, “As did I, if I recall correctly, he was holding court, discussing theosophy with a group of erudite men. I must admit I was intrigued.” Then Dancer looked at Fairfax for an answer. “And you, Mr. Fairfax, where did you meet our mesmeric American friend?”

“Oh, we go way back, at least seventeen years,” Fairfax said his elderly character voice, rich and cultured. “You could say were old friends.”

Dancer did not appear convinced. “Really? I didn’t think Blake had been to London before? Have you travelled to America? ”

“Is that true?” Charles said with surprise aiming the question at me. “You’ve known him for seventeen years?”

I raised my hands, palms out to calm my alarmed friend. “Can we tell you a story, Jack, Charles?” I asked. The two men sent their gazed back and forth between Fairfax and I.

“Look. What is this all about?” Dancer said sounding frustrated and confused.

“I have important information to impart to you about the man known as Lawrence Blake,” Fairfax said.

“What do you mean, the man known as Blake? Who the devil are you?” Dancer exclaimed unable to cage his anger.

“Now that, Detective Inspector is the wrong question. Ask the right question and you’ll get your answer,” Fairfax said smoothly.

Dancer’s vulpine gaze flitted between us again, “A game is afoot, aye!” he paused for a moment of consideration before saying, “Very well, very well. Who is Lawrence Blake to you?”

Fairfax smiled and nodded. “Before I answer I must add a caveat as we have all reached a place of, what could be called mutually assured destruction. I know of the work of Fratres Seminis, of favours for favours, and of your…predilection. And soon you will learn something about me. The situation now stands that none of us in this room can act on the information we know, or are about to learn of one another.”

The silence that fell was fragile, each of us eying the other, making measure of who could be trusted. Dancer spoke first, “Very well, proceed.”

“First, I would like to answer the question you asked moments earlier. Who is Lawrence Blake to me?“ Fairfax rose from his chair began pacing in a circle around us. “Lawrence Blake is a fiction, a charlatan, a fraudster.”

Dancer gasped “Sir!” and sat up straighter. He was not expecting this turn of events. His accent became more northern as he blustered. “What the devil are you talking about? You cannot make accusations about a gentleman without proof!”

“Blake is no gentleman,” I interceded fiercely. Sebastian raised a hand to quieten me, and a look passed between us. Sebastian needed to do this, to take control and share his truth. I nodded and he continued with his sordid tale.

“I met the man you call Lawrence Blake in Paris in 1879. He went by the name of Nathaniel Everett back then.”

“I beg your pardon!” Dancer exclaimed.