Chapter 5

five

Five years later

A FTER FIVE BLOODY years in a small town in the middle of the Alps, where even the birds never chirped too loudly and the thunder apologised for its booms, Perry wasn’t used anymore to the loud chaos and crowds of London.

He’d returned to London a few days ago after a tortuous, painful trip through the Continent that made him question how people could travel for enjoyment.

Nothing in London seemed familiar. Not even his house. The city had turned into a vast, chaotic metropolis with too many carriages and people who were always in a hurry.

He wondered if he’d recognise Edith. She was a Doctor of Medicine now, and he looked forward to congratulating her in person.

Drinking his tea, he watched Belgrave Square from the window and winced at the crowded pavement. People nearly jostled each other so packed the streets were. He would shout if someone bumped into him. How he’d managed to be around so many people and even find it pleasurable, he couldn’t fathom.

“Good morning, Perry.” Oliver, his best friend and personal physician, strolled inside the dining room.

“Have you recovered from the trip?”

His speech was nearly flawless now, only a little hesitant. Lots of practice, determination, and patience worked miracles. Especially since he took the opportunity to learn German to exercise his speech. Just pronouncing the name of the town where the clinic was— Eichhornchenstadt , literally, Town of the Squirrels—had been his main speech exercise for weeks.

Oliver arched his back, his hand on his hips. “I still feel sore. We took literally every type of transport humans have created since the dawn of time. All that up and down those bloody mountains. Now I understand why nobody wants to invade Switzerland.”

“Have some excellent English tea, the cure-all.”

“How are you today?” Oliver took out a notepad and a pencil from his pocket and waited for Perry’s reply before writing.

Always the same question. “I’m tired of London already. I didn’t remember the air being so thick with smoke.”

“Yes, that’s all fascinating, but you know what I mean. I need data, data, and more data. I can’t make bricks without clay. Nausea, headache, anxiety, tingling?” Oliver stuffed a piece of buttered scone in his mouth.

“Trouble sleeping.”

“Interesting.” Oliver scribbled that piece of information on his notepad. “Anything else?”

“No, I’m quite all right. Just annoyed by the noise.”

“Irritability,” Oliver muttered while writing. “Mobility?”

“My left leg becomes a little numb sometimes.”

“Hmm.” Oliver took note of that as well. He’d been diligently recording Perry’s life for the past four years. Everything from what Perry ate to how many hours he slept and how his mood changed. “Great. If the horrible trip didn’t break you, you have an excellent chance of being able to do everything you want. I think you’re ready for your debut in polite society as the new Earl of Ravenscroft.”

Perry nearly spilt his tea. “Not bloody likely. Too soon.”

“Nonsense. You can’t escape your duties.”

“The fact I’m the earl now doesn’t change anything. I don’t have to change my habits.”

Oliver pointed the pencil at him. “It changes everything. You must accept your new reality and embrace it. Think about me as well. Me, Dr. York, the official physician of the Earl of Ravenscroft. It has a nice ring to it.”

“No. It’s too early. I still hope Albert will change his mind. Hell, I’m sure he’ll change his mind and come to his senses. His decision was a fleeting affair.”

“Really?” Oliver sorted through the pile of letters and messages resting on a silver tray. “Did you take a look at the correspondence arrived yesterday?”

“Only to check if Miss Winkworth sent a message.”

But she hadn’t. Likely, she was busy being a doctor. He was so proud of her. Dr. Edith Winkworth. That had a nice ring to it.

He’d buy a plaque with her new title for her to hang on her study door. In fact, celebrating her success was one of the reasons that convinced him to return to London now.

“Did you read all the other letters?” Oliver asked.

“I believe I pay a secretary to do that for me.” He turned his back to the window.

Enough people for today, and Edith wasn’t in sight. He hoped she’d surprise him and come to see him.

“Well, sometimes you should do it yourself.” Oliver handed him a postcard from Bahia, Brazil.

Perry hadn’t read the message yet, but annoyance already soured his mouth. Yes, the postcard was from Albert. His writing had acquired a flourishing quality since he’d moved to the other side of the pond.

Dear Perry, Salvador is the most beautiful, vibrant city in the world. Gabriela and I are happier than ever. Thank you for understanding. Wish you were here .

“Does his decision to renounce the title look like a fleeting affair?” Oliver said.

Fantastic. Really bloody fantastic. He tossed the postcard on the table. Frustration caused his vision to darken.

“Your brother isn’t going to change his mind.” Oliver put the postcard back on the tray. “And even if he did, unfortunately, his wife, no matter how famous she is, will never be accepted as the Countess of Ravenscroft. A Brazilian singer with no connection to British nobility? I wouldn’t wish on her the type of reception she would receive in London.”

Perry took deep breaths lest his body start to quiver. The quivering was sometimes the prelude to a seizure, but not always. Still, controlling his emotions was a good idea.

He also bit down a comment about Albert being selfish, regretting his bitterness. Albert had sacrificed years to follow Perry’s recovery, and those years had taught him to enjoy life more. Hence his renunciation of the title.

A part of Perry understood Albert’s choice. Albert had always worked hard to take care of the estate and family business, and Perry’s incident had vexed him more than Perry could probably comprehend.

Then one night, Albert had gone to a theatre in Geneva to watch the Aida , met the prima donna , Gabriela, and hey presto! They’d fallen madly in love and got married. Goodbye title and responsibilities. Never mind that Albert’s brother was learning to speak and walk again. Perry was perfectly able to be the next Earl of Ravenscroft—Albert’s words, not Perry’s.

“There must be a cousin who wants the title,” Perry said. “I can certainly ask my uncle, Neville. He’s my age, born quite late in my grandfather’s marriage. He’s young and fit.”

“What else do you know about him? I remember him writing to you a few times, but he never visited you.”

Perry shrugged. “He’s a quiet man for all I know. He likes to gamble sometimes, but he doesn’t squander his money, and his name never appears on the scandal sheets. Although we had a row years ago.”

“See?” Oliver said. “He isn’t fit to be the earl.”

“We were lads. He meant to court a lady who at first was pleased by his attention, but then she changed her mind. He believed I’d influenced her decision.”

Oliver’s eyes grew wide. “Tell me the truth. Did you seduce the lady?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. My uncle looked for someone to blame and chose me. Father intervened and settled the matter. But it’s all water under the bridge. I shall write to him.”

“You don’t really mean to renounce your title.”

“I do.” He sat on a chair, suddenly tired. “Look at me. I can’t be the earl, not when I can have a seizure in the House of Lords or during a ball. People will say I’m unhinged and that I should be locked up in an asylum. Not to mention that my speech is a little hesitant on a good day, terrible when I’m anxious. Public speeches are out of the question.”

Oliver waved dismissively. “Every member of the House of Lords has fits caused by rage when in Parliament, and I don’t understand half of them when they speak, anyway. You’ll blend in without problems.”

“I’m serious.” Perry tapped the table with a finger.

Oliver took more notes. “Think about your father and your mother, bless them. They would have wanted you to be the earl.”

“No, they were more than happy Albert inherited the title. My father didn’t have any faith in my skills, and Mother said I was a rascal and a good-for-nothing.”

“Then think about me!” Oliver stopped writing, outraged. “I can’t be the personal physician of the third cousin, twice removed, of the Earl of Ravenscroft. Nobody cares about that.”

“Neville is my uncle.”

“You’re missing my point.”

“Your salary will remain the same,” Perry said. Money was often a good argument with Oliver.

“Exactly! This is your family legacy, and you shouldn’t let your condition limit your possibilities. Your condition doesn’t define who you are. Embrace your title, become famous, and…give me a raise.”

Perry sighed. “There are things I can’t do.”

“Like what?” Oliver gave him a smug look.

“Like mingling with normal people. Enjoying a party without the constant worry of having a seizure in front of everyone. I can’t even have a simple conversation without wondering what people are thinking of me, if there’s something wrong with me, or why I trip on words when I speak.”

“Tosh.” Oliver scribbled on his notepad, muttering, “ The patient shows a lack of confidence, vision, and pride .”

“I don’t lack confidence, and would you please stop referring to me as the patient ?”

“I’m a professional.” Oliver clicked his tongue. “You do lack confidence. But I have a remedy for you.”

Perry held up his hands. “Absolutely no. No more experiments with supposedly magical herbs from distant lands or calming techniques from the far east that involve sharp needles.”

Oliver shook his head. “This remedy is here in London, and it’s called the Scarlet Room.”

“Oh, sod off. What is it?” Perry rubbed his brow. “Not another spa.”

Oliver scraped a chair closer to him. “It’s a club, an exclusive and expensive one, but you can afford it, and well, so can I since I’m your physician.”

“Oh, really? I guess your sudden interest in a seedy club has to do with the medical treatise on human behaviour you’re writing for your specialisation in alienism.”

“More or less,” Oliver said. “That quiet town in Switzerland didn’t offer many opportunities for collecting data. And the Scarlet Room isn’t seedy. It’s underneath London. Everything is possible in the Scarlet Room because there are no rules. You can do whatever you want, be whoever you want. What happens in the Scarlet Room stays in the Scarlet Room. No etiquette either.”

Perry stared at the overexcited face of his friend. “How do you know about this place?”

“Because I, unlike you, enjoy talking with people, and Geneva was filled with Londoners.”

“How can an indecent club help me?”

“You’ll have the chance to be around people without any obligation of being polite, introducing yourself, smiling, and talking about the latest cricket match. You can ignore or be ignored, mingle or be on your own, observe or participate. You can do what pleases you while getting familiar again with being around people. Also, the other people will leave you alone if you want to. Perfect.”

Not the word Perry would use. “I’m not sure.”

“Don’t say no immediately, as usual. Before throwing your life, money, and title out of the window, start by reintroducing yourself to people. After that, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

Perry absolutely, utterly doubted that.