A few moments later, the man who bore that unappealing name materialized. He bowed deeply before Edmund, his slightly crooked back painfully obvious, his entire body somehow out of proportion. He was holding his hat in his gloved hand, the fingers of which lay bare. Edmund never understood the purpose of gloves without covering for the fingers. The man was squeezing the rim of his hat tightly.
“My Lord,” Loveless’ voice was coarse. He was a smoker, surely. “I am most grateful for your audience.”
“Good day, Mr. Loveless,” Edmund nodded, gesturing at the man to sit down. Then, he himself walked around his desk, and seated himself opposite Loveless.
Upon closer inspection, he could guess that the man before him had had better days. His beard was unshaven. Dark circles hung underneath his small, squinting eyes. He appeared somewhat ill, although the nature of his malady Edmund could not venture to guess.
“How is it I may be of assistance?” Edmund asked out of sheer politeness.
There was an order to these affairs, and he preferred to uphold it. Loveless would tell him why he was here. Then, Edmund would explain why he was not able to help. He would see the man out, and that would be the end of it. It all sounded so simple in his mind. What he forgot was that life rarely went according to one’s plan.
“Well, My Lord,” Loveless spoke carefully, choosing every word. Edmund wondered if he was trying to soften his own voice to sound more appealing. In any case, it didn’t work. “I’m sure you’ve ‘eard of my business endeavor, the House of Wonders.” He paused, expecting Edmund to nod, but there was no reaction.
Edmund had heard of it, of course. He found it as distasteful as he found this man who came to beg him for money so he could continue to exploit those poor souls for profit. There was nothing even remotely appealing about it.
Loveless then continued. “We bring joy to those who be thirsty for the unusual, for the strange. They’re all marvelous, me wonders! ‘ave ye seen me show?” Edmund shook his head in reply. “Oh, but ye must! It’s a once in a lifetime chance! Ain’t none like it, I swear! But I fear we run ourselves into a bit of a rough patch, me and my wonders, and we need ‘elp.”
Edmund had no particular interest in hearing the details of this story. The only thing that made him keep this audience were his manners and patience.
“I know that yer dear father, God rest ‘is soul, was very ‘elpful, so I came ‘ere, ‘opin’ ta see if yer Lordship would be interested in investin’ in me business, seein’ as we’ll be spendin’ some time ‘ere, in yer province.”
Edmund felt a sudden rush of irritation upon the mention of his father. It was true that his father was indeed an altruistic man, one who cared about the wellbeing of others as much as he cared about his own wellbeing. However, Edmund was certain that this wellbeing had nothing to do with the exploitation of those who were born different.
He immediately thought of Rosalie. He couldn’t explain the sensation or its origin, but he was even more uneasy now than he was a minute ago. His stump started to itch at first, barely noticeably. But now, the pain he hadn’t felt in weeks was back with a vengeance, as if trying to remind Edmund he had forgotten about something - something crucial.
Edmund believed he would remain patient with the man, until the very end of their meeting, but instead, he was overtaken by a sudden urge to throw him out right that very instant.
“Mr. Loveless,” Edmund spoke with dignity, even though anger was seething underneath the calm surface of his words, “I know quite well the nature of your… shows.” He had to pause to find the right term, then continued. “You seem to make profit off the backs of those who are unable to fend for themselves, and their fate rests in your unskilled hands. Honestly, I pity them, almost as much as I pity you, for even considering the fact that I would bestow my patronage upon the likes of you.”
As he spoke, Edmund’s arms appeared from behind his back, now resting by the side of his body. That dull pain was still present, still coursing through the invisible limb whose phantom presence kept torturing him. He had forgotten all about propriety. He had no concern for it any longer.
He disliked the way this man looked at him, the way he seemed friendly, but darkness lurked beneath those words. Edmund was certain of it. All he wanted was to see this man out of his study and out of his home. A strange sense of urgency and danger spread all around him, making his body shiver.
“It seems I’ve offended ye, My Lord,” Loveless kept talking in a sickly, sweet manner, the tone which he most certainly resorted to when speaking to those he could benefit from. Edmund saw right through him. “I assure ye, it was not me intention.”
“I know very well what your intention was, Mr. Loveless,” Edmund scoffed, losing a little bit of that dignity as he did so, but he didn’t care. “I understand your reasons, but you have come to the wrong place to ask for help.”
It took all of his strength to say this calmly. However, he was surprised to see that the man was completely indifferent to his words. Edmund had just refused his patronage, and yet, Loveless was still smiling, like a sly fox with a plan of its very own. Edmund’s stump burned as if he had shoved it into a fireplace, itching violently. The desire to scratch was unbearable, but he managed to resist it.
“Ah well…” Loveless shrugged, wrenching the hat in his hands. “I thank ye for yer time, My Lord.”
Edmund was taken aback by this non-violent acceptance of the state of affairs. He wasn’t expecting it, especially not from a man like Loveless. He had been fortunate enough not to socialize with many such people, but he had heard enough stories to know what their character was like. And yet, Loveless seemed to take it almost like a gentleman.
“I am much obliged,” Loveless added, bowing.
He waited, looking as if he wanted to ask something else, but changed his mind in the last minute. His half-parted lips dangled open, and his eyes stared Edmund down.
“If that is all, Mr. Loveless…” Edmund spoke curtly, deciding he had had enough of this show.
He gestured at the door. He was a moment away from calling Hastings to see this man out.
“Per’aps just a moment longer,” Loveless grinned, as Edmund eyed him suspiciously, his stump burning with sharp, incessant pain.
* * *
“Is everything all right, Miss. Blake?” Hastings wondered, as they stood in the corridor of the grand mansion.
He was looking at a dainty handkerchief, with embroidered initials R.B. which now rested in Rosalie’s hands. It was a simple handkerchief, the color of pale peaches, and nothing more. One he had seen a handful of times in the possession of ladies such as Miss. Blake herself.
