Page 38 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“It just keeps on growing, doesn't it?” Kenneth said, watching the poverty roll past.
“What does, Your Grace?” Daniel inquired.
“All this sadness.” Kenneth whispered, rolling his knuckles past the window at children running barefoot through the uneven street, skinny as skeletons.
“It's not all bad, Your Grace.” Daniel insisted. “Look here, we’re coming on now.”
Kenneth turned to look forward as they rolled across the river, catching glimpses of the elegant bridge and the tall dome of the Old Bailey. She promised justice from afar, standing tall over the London labyrinth. She was the center of criminal court, although a criminal was only tried if the prosecutor could pay for it, so justice was very rarely and selectively dispensed.
Coming around Piccadilly, however, the tone of the city shifted swiftly. Suddenly there was no visible squalor; all the bricks seemed to stack just right and all the lamp posts were evenly spaced, cleaned, and operating.
“It is another world.” Kenneth mumbled, thinking of Leah's brutal descriptions surrounding criminal life. He had seen it himself, several times. In the spirit of his bill, he had made his way down around White Chapel and other such slums of ill repute.
“A better one, I should say, Your Grace.” Daniel offered, glancing ahead to see their destination closing into sight.
“Perhaps.” Kenneth uttered. Already he was thinking of Leah, despite this trip meant to distract him from her.
“Here we are, Your Grace.” Daniel gave him a glance that Kenneth could have interpreted as worry, but instead he paid it no mind.
They disembarked the coach at the big blue doors belonging to Kenneth's family business. It was a fine building, newer than most surrounding it, and stretched up three stories.
The blue entryway had been his uncle’s idea, for Kenneth cared not at all about the color of doors.
There was, in fact, very little about this building that Kenneth cared for. Even as he pulled his boots up the smooth stone stairs, he looked distastefully at the shoe scraper beside the door. The ugly, wrought iron head was crusted with flakes of mud, and it seemed to gape up at him, piercing into his soul, looking through his social disguise just as she had.
The Duke shrugged this strange feeling aside as he entered the business.I will not be dominated by this uneasiness.
“Morning, Thompson.” Kenneth bobbed his head to the respected office clerk as the front desk came into sight.
“Your Grace, good morning.” Thompson looked surprised to see him, which struck Kenneth as odd.
“Was my arrival forgotten by the agenda?” Kenneth asked with a bit of a joke in his voice, but Thompson's nervous glances at the schedules confirmed his suspicions.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, I had not heard of it.” Thompson said finally, looking up from the pages.
“It is no matter.” Kenneth waved his hand. “It is not as if I require the attendance of tea to my entry, hmm?” He raised his eyebrows at Thompson, who returned the friendly expression. “Now where is the esteemed Lord Wilson?”
“Lord Wilson is in his office.” Thompson gestured towards the oaken double doors that stood imposingly against the east wall.
“Of course, he is,” Kenneth murmured, and swung open the grand slabs that were once trees in the Americas.
Cornelius Wilson looked up from his papers and smiled as Kenneth entered with gusto, taking up the whole of the passage with his grandiose stance.
“Uncle,” Kenneth said, approaching the desk. “good morning.”
“It is not morning any longer.” Cornelius mentioned, shifting several papers aside. “But a good day to you nonetheless.”
“I have brought the licenses.” Kenneth made a gesture with his head, and Daniel stepped forward, drawing several documents out of a leather-bound carrying case.
“Very good.” Cornelius took them and began reading them over briefly, thumbing between the corners. “This all seems to be in order.”
“Why would it not be?” Kenneth mused.
“Why indeed.” Cornelius muttered, and he shuffled at the papers into a neat stack, which he then directed into the bowels of his desk, comprised of many drawers.
“Was that all?” Kenneth looked dumbly at his Uncle. “Why did you simply not take the documents back with you from Worthington?”
“Because, dear nephew, we are both needed today for a hearing.”
