Discovering the Devil

T e n

Penelope's eyes fluttered innocently. "Who said anything about a gun?"

"My valet told me you were asking where they were kept. He said he didn't know if he should be concerned, but he thought it best to tell me." Harry produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the drawer, and extracted a black case. "Don't try looking for it again. You won't find it."

"You'll find that I'm very resourceful."

Harry opened his mouth to issue an ugly retort and then closed it. There was a foggy look in his eye. "The duel is tomorrow, Penelope. If I couldn't find my gun, I would've just gotten another." Before Penelope could give a word, he was gone. It took a very long time before Penelope could find the will to move.

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HARRY woke up when the sky was still choked with blackness. He didn't waste time lazing underneath his covers, contemplating his fate. He picked his clothes with uncharacteristic choosiness, compulsively smoothing out wrinkles and rubbing at flecks of lint. After he dressed, he went to his study and poured a glass of brandy. He was careful not to be too generous, he refused to do this with a liquid head. Snatches of a hymn rolled round in his head.

When peace like a river attendeth my way,

when sorrows like sea billows roll,

whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say

"It is well, it is well with my soul."

"I thought you hated that song." Harry looked away from his glass, which was still untouched. Zachary was awake and dressed too.

"What song?"

"The one you were just humming."

Harry decided to take a sip of his drink. He hadn't realized he was humming. "How do you know I hate it?"

"You said so at Arthur's funereal. That's the song they sang." Zachary's voice was soft. "You said you never wanted to hear that blasted tune again."

Another blaze of brandy down his throat. "Oh." Harry cleared his throat. "I have a few good cigars here." He remembered Zachary loved them.

"You hate cigars too."

"The duke started visiting." Harry didn't need to say more. Fatherly spite was understood.

"Are they good?"

"Excellent."

Harry and Zachary lit their cigars and smoked in silence. "Where is Percy?" Harry asked.

"He says he won't watch you kill yourself over a girl."

Harry blew out an impressive plume of smoke. "I suppose I cannot blame him." The sky was starting to warm to a deep blue. "Thank you, Zachary."

"I wouldn't ever have refused you. No friend would."

Of course he would say that. Zachary was right and honorable and good. He felt the slightest swell of jealousy, even though it was pointless. Why couldn't he have inherited all that goodness without all the tragedy? They sat in silence, finishing their cigars, breathing in the bittersweetness of the room. The sky was a lighter blue now. Harry stood up. "We should go."

Harry gathered his coat and Zachary gathered his own and the black box, and they solemnly made their way to the door. There, Miss Redwood was already waiting. She gave a very small curtsy.

"What is it?" Harry asked wearily. He couldn't believe his last moments on Earth had to be spent dealing with her. "I'm coming with you."

Harry would've laughed if he hadn't seen that stubborn streak in her eye. "You're not going anywhere."