Page 14 of Tattered Huntress
I wasn’t sure how I’d manage to get inside to speak to Sir Nigel, but I was confident that my background as a delivery driver would help considerably. To that end, I took the long way around, passing behind several expensive restaurants and shops until I found the perfect cardboard box to serve my needs. It smelled slightly of old cabbage but its appearance – if not its scent – was good enough to pass muster. I tossed the necklace and its wooden box inside and did what I could to seal the edges. There; that ought to be enough. Then I straightened my shoulders and marched up to the grand entrance.
Two burly elves stood on either side of the door. They were clearly high born, although the bronze clips on their ears indicated that they weren’t as well-placed as the likes of Hugo Pemberville. I didn’t bother to smile as I approached – I was a bored delivery driver looking to finish my shift as quickly as possible. I wasn’t trying to sneak inside to speak to one of their vaulted guests. No, sirree. Not me.
Both elves stared at me as I walked up to the door then the dark-haired one on the right held up his hand to stop me. They didn’t appear any more disposed to friendly smiles than I was.
I halted, took out my phone and pretended to consult it then looked up at them. ‘I’ve got a delivery,’ I said. ‘Parcel for Nigel Harrigan.’
‘There’s no-one here with that name,’ the blond on the left said.
I pretended to check my phone again, this time affecting an edge of irritation. ‘Hannigan, then,’ I said. ‘Nigel Hannigan.’ I peered more closely at my screen. ‘SirNigel Hannigan.’ I jiggled the box. ‘I need him to sign for it.’
‘We’ll give it to him.’ He held out his hands.
‘Are you Sir Nigel Hannigan?’ I asked. ‘No? Well then, I can’t give it to you. I have to pass it directly to him.’ I tapped the phone screen. ‘I’m on the clock here. I don’t have a lot of time.’
‘That’s your problem. Not ours.’ Blondie folded his arms, probably because he thought it made his biceps look bigger. ‘Deliveries are only allowed between the hours of ten and four.’
Damn it. I did my best to look unruffled. ‘Look, mate,’ I said. ‘I don’t care what your rules are. I’m only trying to keep my minimum-wage job. I won’t be long – you can escort me in, if you wish. I just need to give this to Nigel Hannigan, get his signature and then I’ll be out of your hair. Alright?’
I stepped forward to walk past them but, sadly for me, theywere having none of it. These two were better trained than I’d expected.
‘You’re not getting inside,’ said the dark-haired elf.
‘And,’ added Blondie, ‘you’re not my mate.’ His eyes snapped to someone behind me and his expression transformed. So hecouldstretch to a smile. ‘Good evening, Mr Bridger.’
I half-turned my head and clocked a tall man striding past me with a female companion on his arm. ‘Good evening,’ he said, with a disarming doff of his hat. ‘This is my friend, Eleanor Dixon. She’ll be joining me this evening.’
I glanced at the woman and suddenly I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. I guessed she’d ditched the boyfriend, then. ‘Hi, Eleanor,’ I said brightly.
She peered around the elf. When she saw my face, she also gave a wide smile. ‘Hey!’ She thumped Bridger on the arm. ‘This is the woman I was telling you about! She’s the one who saved me from being killed by that vampire!’
Bridger, who hadn’t so much as glanced in my direction, turned to me and bowed. ‘My goodness! How utterly fortuitous that you happen to be here,’ he said.
I blinked. He was talking as if he’d walked out of the pages of a Regency romance. He bowed again and my mouth dropped open. He was acting that way, too.
‘You are a true heroine,’ he told me. He took my hand and kissed it, even though my fingernails were still caked with dirt from my earlier digging efforts. I’d done my best to clean myself up in the train loo but I’d only been able to do so much. If Bridger noticed the dirt, he was far too much of a gentleman to react.
I gave Eleanor an approving nod. This guy was good.
‘Are you here for dinner, too?’ Eleanor asked, despite thefact that I looked as if I’d been rolling around in grassy dirt for half the day – which was exactly what I had been doing.
‘Uh,’ I scratched my head. ‘No, I’m working. I have to give this to Sir Nigel Hannigan. I need him to sign for it.’ I widened my eyes until they were suitably doe-like and pretended not to notice the very obvious glares of the two bouncers. ‘These gentlemen won’t let me in.’ I dropped my voice sadly. ‘But I’ll lose my job if I don’t deliver it tonight.’
Eleanor gasped. ‘That’s terrible!’ She turned to the two men. ‘She’s an elf, you know. She’s a good person. Why won’t you let her in to do her job?’
I could tell that both of them were simmering with rage but dared not show it. This was almost too much fun.
‘It’s policy, ma’am,’ Blondie said.
Bridger raised an eyebrow. ‘Fiddlesticks! This lady is only trying to do an honest day’s work and you’re getting in her way. I can’t imagine Sir Nigel would be very happy if he learned that he couldn’t receive his parcel because of some balderdash policy.’ He hooked his arm through mine. ‘You can come in with us, dear.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Humphrey Bridger and guests, Eleanor Dixon and?—’
‘Daisy Carter.’ I bobbed a curtsey.
‘Daisy Carter. What a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’
‘The pleasure,’ I said honestly, ‘is all mine.’ Then the three of us strolled past the two grumpy elves and into the Institute. It was glorious.
Humphrey Bridger kept up a running commentary as he led us into a grand lobby with a marble floor and expensive looking objets d’art lining the panelled walls. ‘I cannot tell you how wondrous it is to meet you in person,’ he said. ‘Dear Eleanor told me about her horrible encounter and how brave you were. The entire affair puts me in mind of this beautiful painting.’ Hegestured to a very large – and very ugly – battle scene that adorned one of the panels.
