Page 4 of The Artisan and the Duke
The door from the living area that opened onto the terrace burst open with enough force to rattle the glass in the wooden frame. Lady St Claire put her hand over her heart. “Fredrick St Claire, you are going to break that door. It was a gift from the French ambassador,” Lady St Claire said sternly.
Fredrick did not look abashed at the scolding, instead he came over to the table unsteadily. He had not yet gotten the knack of walking on the wooden leg that he had been fitted with, and he refused to use the crutches even when at home. “Thought you might be interested in this,” Fred said as he dropped a newspaper onto the table near Gregory before slumping down in a chair.
Gregory picked up the newspaper. He had thought it would be another of those horrible gossip papers that spread all sort of rumours about anyone of any importance. Gregory had found himself in a few over the years.
Instead of the gossip rag, Gregory found it was the daily newspaper. There were an account and a depiction of a fire at a factory over near where Gregory had been the day before. His thoughts flicked to the spokesman briefly. “What a horrible thing,” Gregory said as he pushed the newspaper away.
“Horrible thing? Children died,” Fred spat. “What’s worse is there’s a clamour already that it was set deliberately.”
Lady St Claire gave a strangled cry of distress. “Can we please not talk about such things while breaking our fast?”
Fred grew silent, but he stared at Gregory with a glare. Gregory nodded and tapped the paper. “I might see what I can learn about all this while I am out today,” he said lightly.
“You will do no such thing,” Lady St Claire said then she added, “I am sorry to treat you like a child, but you have to take your responsibilities seriously.
Gregory agreed, “I know, and that is exactly why I need to know the truth.” He sighed, “I promise to be careful, but I have to satisfy my curiosity on this.” With his mother somewhat distracted, Gregory turned to his brother, “Fred you should take a jaunt with me and get out of this stuffy house.”
“You know that I cannot do that,” Fred said as he folded his arms across his chest defiantly. Although he was two years Gregory’s junior, one would have thought him much older with the deep lines that etched across his face in the early morning sun.
Gregory reached across the table and grasped his brother’s arm. “Are you truly unable, or are you merely adopting an attitude of ineptitude to keep from facing the world outside?”
“Leave me be about it,” Fred warned as the man shoved to his feet.
After Fred had made his exit, Gregory took his leave of his mother’s breakfast table. He went back upstairs, and instead of putting on his commoner’s disguise, he pulled on his travelling coat. The sun was bright and shining without giving any clue to the fact that a tragedy had occurred the night before.
***
The street the fire had happened on was one filled with small businesses and residencies. The buildings had smut on them from the smoke of the fire, and everywhere lay bits of ashes or burned wood. Gregory stepped over a piece of debris, wary of the sharp nails sticking out of it.
The rancid scent of smoke filled the air, and Gregory pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket to hold over his mouth and nose. He looked around at a sound and saw movement from the burned-out building. Three youths were carrying a bundle out wrapped in a blanket. Bile rose in Gregory’s mouth. He had not realized that the bodies of the workers were inside still.
“Not something a Lordly sort sees every day,” a voice said behind Gregory causing Gregory to turn abruptly to face the speaker. The young man from the day before stared at Gregory with an air of distrust.
Gregory coughed to clear the smoke scent from his nostrils. “Yes, I guess I thought they would have the bodies moved by now.”
“Odd for someone like you to be here at all,” the young man said. There was a pause before he continued, “It takes a long time to find bodies, especially the ones that are more badly burned.”
Gregory could see the ash and smut that decorated the young man’s clothing and face. A group of men came by, and one of them clapped the young man on the back and said, “Ready to go back in?”
The young man nodded and said to Gregory, “Feel free to hop to it, your Lordship.” The men guffawed and turned to go to the building with the young man in tow.
Gregory did not get offended easily at the indifference to his title, but he still bristled at the distaste that the people here seemed to treat him with. He stepped into a bakery across the street.
“Your Lordship, it is an honour,” the old baker gasped. “Can I get you a cake or some honey bread?”
Gregory waved off the man’s offer. “I’m actually here enquiring about the fire.”
“The fire, Lord?” The baker’s brows furrowed together. “No need to worry about that. They’ll have it sorted soon enough. The boys are just getting the remains so the families can have their dead. They’ll probably start tearing it down soon.”
Gregory frowned and looked at the building across from the baker’s. The factory sat like a stark skeleton on the corner where one street met another. “The building does not concern me. Have there been any guardsmen to check into it?”
“Doubtful the guards will worry over us, Lord,” the baker said with a shake of his head. The man seemed confused as to Gregory’s motive. “Do you own some property near here?” The man asked the question as he tried to reason out what Gregory had to do with the burned building.
Gregory was doubtful the baker would give him any information. “Yes,” Gregory said, but he did not elaborate. To compensate the man for his time, Gregory laid some coins on the counter which the man profusely thanked him for as Gregory left.
He would have been better off coming in disguise, Gregory realized. He had thought that perhaps a noble checking on his property would be a reasonable excuse to make enquiries. However, the locals appeared to be wary at best and hostile at worst towards their betters.
Now his cover was blown since the young spokesman had seen him the day before. The young man had clearly recognized him. Gregory sighed in dissatisfaction. He walked towards the street where he had left his horse with a young girl.
