“I’m surprised you’re able to get something at this stage,” Chalmers said. “Someone told me the other day he couldn’t even get an appointment with a tailor.”
“I still might not get the clothes in time,” David said glumly. “But he said he might be able to do something for me. Though if I don’t make this fitting, I haven’t a hope, so I’d better be off.”
“Then on your way, Lauriston. We can’t have you disgracing the faculty or Sir Walter, can we?”
It wanted ten minutes till five o’clock when David reached the tailor’s. He was on time, thankfully, if only just. But when he pushed at the door, he found it locked.
Frowning, he rang the bell. When there was no answer, he rang it again, pulling the rope several times, but still no one came. Stepping away from the door, he went to the window and peered in through one of the small, thick panes. The shop was gloomy, but he saw the dim outline of a figure moving around.
“Hello there!” he called, rapping sharply at the glass. “Let me in, will you? I’ve a fitting arranged.”
The figure moved forward into the light, and David could see now that it was a young lad, the tailor’s assistant, presumably. A few steps from the door, he froze and looked over his shoulder towards the back of the shop, then glanced back at David and gave a helpless shrug.
Angry now, David rapped at the glass again. “I’ve an appointment!” he cried. “You can check—the name’s David Lauriston. Mr. Riddell knows all about it.”
The boy gave another shrug, his expression apologetic, then scuttled off. Was he going to see Mr. Riddell? Or was he just escaping?
Damn.David hadn’t a hope of getting a suit made to Sir Walter’s ridiculous specifications if Mr. Riddell didn’t see him today.
He rapped the door sharply with his knuckles and rang the bell again, but after several minutes of this, it was beginning to look hopeless. Furious, he turned from the door, ready to stalk off, when the scrape of a key in the lock made him turn back.
The door opened, and a boy’s anxious face poked out. “Mr. Lauriston?”
David stepped forward. “Yes.”
“You’re to come in, sir, please.” The boy opened the door a little more, though not by much, as though he feared a multitude might storm the gates.
With an exasperated sigh, David stepped past him, frowning to find the shop floor empty.
“Where is Mr. Riddell?”
“He’s in the back, sir,” the boy whispered, “with a customer. Alord, sir!”
A lord. A peer who had sailed in and stolen David’s appointment.
“Is that why the door was locked?” he demanded, frowning.
“Yes, sir. He came an hour ago wanting to order new clothes, so Mr. Riddell bade me lock up and turn anyone else away.”
“Despite their appointments?”
The lad nodded and eyed the back shop nervously. “Aye, but when you kept knocking, I went back and told Mr. Riddell you wouldn’t go, and the lordship, he said to let you in if you have an appointment.”
“So I have the man who stole my appointment to thank for it being kept after all?” David didn’t know whether to resent the man or not. “I certainly don’t have your master to thank for it, do I?”
“I shouldn’t have told you,” the boy said, flushing. “Mr. Riddell always says I prattle on too much.” He swallowed, perhaps contemplating the scold he’d get for his loose tongue.
David sighed. “I won’t say anything—so long as Mr. Riddell honours my appointment, I don’t much care. But I need this new suit before the King comes.”
The boy sagged with relief. “Thank you, sir. May I trouble you to take your coat off, then? Mr. Riddell asked me to start taking your measurements.”
“Very well,” David said and took a step towards the back shop.
“No!” the lad protested, colouring again when David turned to look at him in surprise. “There’s only one room back there, and Mr. Riddell’s seeing to his lordship in there. We’ll have to do it here.”
“In the front shop?” David said disbelieving. “Where anyone might walk in?”
“The door’s locked, sir, and you only need take your coat and boots off, if you please.”
