Chapter Text
“Take the hand that’s given. Oh, this dance is endin’, Bow before the curtain, Bow until you’re certain.” Adam Agin “Whisper Low”
Lucy Carlyle looked at the sheet of paper in her hands and believed, with her whole heart, this was the worst thing that could happen to them.
“Surely this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen,” Quill Kipps said from his place leaning against the counter next to the kitchen sink. “I mean, nobody died. This time.”
It was bizarre enough to see Kipps here in the kitchen of 35 Portland Row, all tidy blonde curls and dimples and blue eyes extremely out of place. His uniform was neatly pressed and Lucy wondered just how many of those the Fittes agents were allowed because she’d seen his filthy and bloody and ruined in the past. Under any other circumstances, the owner of the house, Anthony Lockwood, would have never allowed his longest-standing rival across the threshold.
But these were not the usual circumstances and Lockwood hadn’t been the one to answer the door. Lucy had. And while she didn’t like Kipps much better than Lockwood did, she’d been understandably impacted by this new turn of events and thus hadn’t given it sufficient thought when he asked to step inside to talk about some business.
His words now fell on deaf ears as he watched the morose motley that was Lockwood and Co. slumped around their thinking cloth, the trappings of afternoon tea left unattended for hours now. Half-empty mugs of tea and plates of biscuit crumbs lingered in the spaces between notes and doodles on the cloth, the quaint lived-in feeling quite the opposite of what Kipps was accustomed to at Fittes.
“The new guideline wasn’t supposed to pass,” George Karim grumbled. All the news channels and articles had been saying for weeks how unlikely it would be. They’d trusted the official sources in this, to their eventual despair. “You wouldn’t understand. It feels like the worst thing that could happen.”
“I don’t understand how this has happened,” Lucy said, rereading the page in her hands for a third time. “A new requirement that all agencies have a person above the age of 21 to act as supervisor is preposterous.”
“But not unwarranted,” Kipps responded. “I mean, you lot gave them reason enough all on your own. Not to take into account the copycat agencies who’ve sprung up in your footsteps who’ve been far more reckless still, believe it or not.”
“I swear Kipps,” Lockwood started. “If you try and tell me it’s ‘all about the journey’ or ‘think of the friends we made along the way’ I will forcibly kick you out of my house.”
“I mean Tony, think about it, you’ll always have—”
Lockwood stood abruptly, chair screeching back across the floor, and pointed toward the door. “Get the hell out of my house. Only warning.” His hand absently went to where his rapier usually hung but was currently absent, resting in the entry hall with the rest of their weapons.
Kipps grinned and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright Tony, no need to get your pants in a bunch. Lucy, can I have a word with you on the way out?”
She sighed and let the paper she held, an official letter from DEPRAC informing them of the canceled status of their insurance in light of their inability to perform as an agency within the bounds of the new law, fall to the table. George reached across the thinking cloth and picked it up to read it again as Lucy gestured for Kipps to follow her through to the hall.
She could hear Lockwood’s chair drag back across the floor as she closed the kitchen door. He’d been as inscrutable as ever with the news, plenty of thoughts ticking behind his eyes but his expression betraying none of them. That was fine for now. She and George had plenty of emotions to go around to make up for what Lockwood lacked.
“What do you want, Kipps?” she asked as they approached the front door.
Kipps paused in front of the door and his posture changed. Gone now was the easy nature he’d shown back in the kitchen, the teasing left behind. Here was the leader of a team. He tucked his hands behind his back and straightened himself up. Lucy raised an eyebrow.
“Lucy Carlyle, I’m here in an official capacity as liaison for Fittes Agency,” he started and Lucy immediately understood why he’d asked to speak with her alone. “With your status newly changed to unemployed, there will no doubt be a flood of offers for you at other agencies. You are highly Talented, Miss Carlyle, and any agency would be lucky to have you. We at Fittes think you would be a fine addition to our team.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the first time she’d been offered a job at Fittes after they callously cast her aside upon her initial arrival to London. It wasn’t even the first time they’d sent Kipps to do it. “The ink is hardly dry on the decree and you’re already here?”
Kipps shrugged. “I’m not kidding, Lucy. You’re about to have your pick of agencies.”
She shook her head. “I doubt that. No one would have me when I first got to London. No one but Lockwood and Co.”
“Who are now defunct. So you should really consider your options.”
“I’ll consider my foot in your arse if you ask me about this again. Now, I believe you’re supposed to be getting the hell out of Lockwood’s house,” she said, pushing past him to open the door for him. It wasn’t quite dusk out and the ghost lamps wouldn’t begin to flicker to life for at least another hour but she thought Kipps gazed warily down the street anyway.
He stepped out but paused in the doorway, turning to face her. “Don’t decide right away. If you want more information on the offer, if you need to compare, you know where to find us.”
She reached forward, placed a hand on his chest, and pushed him the rest of the way through the door. The look of surprise on his face was satisfying as she slammed the door in his face.
When she returned to the kitchen, she found George tidying up the table, presumably to get ready for dinner. Lockwood sat in one chair with his feet propped on another, reading through the letter again. “How much are they offering?” he asked without even looking up at her as she came through the doorway.
“I didn’t ask,” she replied, resuming her seat at the table.
“So they did send Kipps to poach you,” George said as he tipped the dishes into the sink with a clatter.
“I told you they would,” Lockwood said. He tossed the paper on the table and ran his fingers through his hair. Lucy liked his hair better when it was tousled that way and she hated that she had any opinion at all on his hair.
George bent down to rummage through a lower cabinet, pulling out the pans he wanted to cook with. “I never said you were wrong. It’s why I wouldn’t take that bet, remember?”
Lucy frowned. “You had a bet about me?”
Lockwood shrugged. “We figured other agencies would come calling for you. I figured Fittes would be first but they were awfully quick on the draw.”
Her feelings were conflicted on this. On the one hand, she didn’t like the idea they were talking about her when she wasn’t around, making bets. On the other, it felt nice to know they both had a high estimate of her value and what she brought to the agency, the idea that they thought other agencies would compete to have her.
“So what now?” she asked, brushing aside her annoyance. “We have to bring in some kind of money or else you’ll end up losing the house.”
“That really shouldn’t be your responsibility,” Lockwood said, tapping his fingers on the table. He wouldn’t quite meet her eyes as he said it, staring off over her shoulder instead.
“I mean we live here, don’t we?” she asked. “Unless you’re about to kick us out and have us lose our jobs and our home in the same fell swoop.”
George paused his work at the counter to turn and listen to Lockwood’s answer.
His hesitation was nerve-wracking.
“Well of course not,” he eventually said. “But it also doesn’t feel fair to ask you to contribute to something you don’t get anything out of.”
Lucy scoffed. “Okay, just because my name isn’t on the deed doesn’t mean I’m getting nothing out of contributing. Honestly, don’t be an idiot. This might be your house but it’s our home,” she said. When he still wouldn’t meet her eyes, she kicked out under the table and pushed away the chair he’d had his feet in. They fell unceremoniously to the floor and just like that, she had his attention. “I’m serious, Lockwood. We can figure this out together but we are not letting you lose the house. Right, George?”
George turned back to his work at the counter, cutting up something she couldn’t see from where she sat. “Sorry Lockwood, I’m with Luce on this one. You’re pretty much stuck with us so you may as well let us help.”
Lockwood’s jaw tightened and Lucy got the impression this wouldn’t be the last time they would have to convince him that his situation wasn’t a burden to them, that this was absolutely their own choice to make. But she set that thought aside as he flashed both friends a brilliant grin of determination. “You’re right. Okay, Lucy. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but in that case, you should probably consider the offer from Fittes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Kipps will never let me live it down if I go in there after turning him down twice.”
“So shop around first. Get a few other options. Let Fittes think you’re doing them the favor.”
It was easy for Lockwood to say. But as far as she knew, he’d never gone from agency to agency, having one door after another slammed in his face. He was all grace and charm and could flash that smile any time he wanted something and usually get it. She knew she was powerful, that her Talent was special. But she still couldn’t feel the attention was earned. Surely they were all wrong about how the other agencies would want her now. They hadn’t wanted her before and the hurt from that rejection went deeper than she’d realized. It still colored her opinion of herself in ways she hadn’t been able to unravel.
“In fact,” Lockwood said, leaning his chair back on two legs and crossing his arms. “I’ll go to Fittes with you. Surely they’ll want all of us after the jobs we’ve pulled this year.”
“I won’t go back there,” George said as he moved over to the hob. The sound of sizzling vegetables preceded the aroma by only seconds and Lucy realized, for the first time in hours, she actually was hungry. “Didn’t like it the first time. Won’t like it a second. I have a few ideas though. I’ll let you know how they pan out.”
Lockwood let his chair fall back down and he hopped up, moving over to the cupboard to pull out dinner dishes. “Maybe Kipps had a point. Don’t tell him I said that. But maybe we can make something good out of this. At least until we can find a way around the new ruling.”
Lucy thought his bravado might have been a bit forced but she didn’t mention it to him as she moved to the sink to do the washing up from tea as the boys went about getting dinner set. She wanted to be optimistic, truly she did. She wanted to believe her Talents were desirable enough to land her a good position with wages that could help keep Lockwood’s house from being reclaimed by the bank. She wanted to believe they could make the best of it while finding a way to bring Lockwood and Co back to business. But right now, in the immediate aftermath of finding herself, once again, without an agency, she could only feel anxious.
Lockwood stepped up behind her, reaching past her shoulder for a plate she’d just washed, in order to dry it for the table. His arm brushed hers and if she’d taken even half a step back, his chest would have pressed against her. She swallowed hard and tried not to freeze as she continued washing the plates and mugs. He didn’t notice how her hands fumbled for a moment and then he was gone again, pulling the tea towel from its place on her shoulder and setting about drying the plates as she finished them and setting the table, leaving her stomach a tumble of butterflies and frustration.
Truly, she had to stop letting his physical presence affect her this way. She couldn’t make her brain quiet the argument it often fought between being convinced he never noticed their contact and wondering if it was purposeful. And if it was intended, to what end?
An aggravating one, either way, she was sure.
She supposed the one upside to their current situation was the fact that Anthony Lockwood was no longer her employer. She paused a moment, watching the water draining from the sink.
Now that was interesting.
“The hum, it lingers long. I’m sure we’ll carry on. Careful for your step, Careful for what’s next.” Adam Agin “Whisper Low”