The Medium

Chapter 7, Part 2

"This is not Whitechapel," I said, answering Jacob.

George dropped his hand. "Pardon?"

"I'm speaking to Jacob."

"It's not exactly Belgrave Square either," Jacob said, referring to the exclusive area where his family kept a house. He jerked his head towards George. "What's your puppy doing here?"

"Protecting me. Aren't you George?"

George puffed out his chest and looked pleased with himself.

"Protecting you?" Jacob snorted and crossed his arms. "From what? The newspapers fluttering down the street? Because that's all he's capable of defending you against." He sounded annoyed. I couldn't think why.

"He's an effective deterrent against a thief thinking of taking advantage of me."

Jacob's nostrils flared. It was the only movement on his otherwise still person. "You're right. A visible deterrent works better than an invisible one."

My heart plunged into my stomach. "That's not what I meant." Stupid girl! It was precisely what I'd meant and now I’d made Jacob feel useless and less...human. "Jacob, I'm sorry."

"Forget it. Come on, knock."

"What's going on?" George asked. "What's he saying?"

"Well, he...uh...he thinks I should have brought some...more protection to walk though these streets. But he seems to be forgetting that this isn't Whitechapel."

Jacob gave me a lazy smile, my slight seemingly forgotten. "If this area is so safe then why do you need to bring him along for protection at all?"

Darn. Foiled by my own logic. "Stop being so...male!"

"Male?" Jacob and George both said.

I lifted a hand and knocked.

Jacob leaned down so that his nose almost touched my cheek. "Well?" he said in a quiet, ominous voice that spread across my skin like warm sunshine.

My face heated. I adore sunshine. "You're being overbearing. It's a very irritating manly habit that...men have." I knocked again. Why wasn't someone answering the door?

"You're such an expert on men, are you?" Jacob asked, straightening. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye but I couldn't determine if he was teasing me or if it was a serious question.

"I know a few. Now, either be quiet so I can concentrate or go away."

"Yes," George said, fiddling with his necktie again. "Let us handle this."

"I'm not leaving you alone in this place," Jacob said. "And I'll not allow you to walk home alone either."

"I am not alone," I muttered although I think George heard me anyway if his wince was any indication.

"You might as well be," Jacob said. He looked skyward as if he'd find some patience there, or some way of convincing me I was being a fool. "Bloody hell, Emily, coming here is dangerous. Do you understand?"

The door opened at that moment and I smiled at the maid in relief. We introduced ourselves and George asked to speak to someone in authority.

"Mr. Blunt the master's gone out," she said, "but Mrs. White'll receive you." She showed us into a room that appeared to be either an office or a drawing room or perhaps acted as both. It had a small, unlit fireplace, a large desk with hard, unpadded chairs on either side of it, a sofa and two armchairs, none of which matched, and a threadbare green rug on the floor. There were no decorative items on the mantelpiece, no paintings on the walls and not even a bookshelf near the desk. On second thought the room couldn't possibly function as an office as there wasn’t a scrap of paper in sight and the inkwell appeared empty. It must be entirely for the use of visitors then.