Clarissa's eyes are fixed on the clock as the hands slowly click nearer to 11. Savoy Street has been locked down since half 10, people are hiding in their dark homes having been warned not to venture out. Tension consumes The One-Eyed Duke, the occupants are anxiously waiting for the clock to strike 11. The tables have been shoved to the side apart from a few of the small square ones that have been pushed together to create one long surface. Clarissa sits at the table on the side facing the door, which is guarded by Jack and Tom. Chuck stands guard behind her to the left, his arms folded and a dark glower on his face. Peter has a chair to the right of Clarissa, but he doesn't wait in it. He paces up and down the length of the pub, his hands twitching at his waist, the lack of protection is evidently unnerving the second in command. He snarls to himself as he reaches the bar, he turns and continues walking.
"They will be here," Clarissa reassures, her eyebrows dancing with amusement at his antics.
"I don't like this," Peter replies gruffly, "This has the potential to blow up in our faces."
"Indeed," She agrees, "But I have little to no choice....unless you'd like to declare war on Daniel Cavendish yourself?"
He glares at her but halts his pacing when there is a knock on the door. Both men look at her for instructions. She corrects her posture, flipping her loose curls behind her shoulders and holds her head up high. She signals to Chuck to open the door. Peter sinks into his chair, stress radiating from his body.
Chuck opens the door and in strides Lewis Baines and Winston Lestrade. Baines is the taller of the two men, he has a wiry beard that makes him look older than his 35 years, his dull olive eyes are wide in his pinched face and his nose is wonky, no doubt it has been broken many times. His clothes are clean and smart, his black boots are slightly scratched and he hugs an expensive dark coat around his thin athletic body.
Lestrade favours his left leg as he enters the pub, his hand clutches at a walking stick but his stride is not weak. He has flowing chestnut hair and a youthful glow on his face despite the cuts on his jaw and temple. His suit is earthy green and checked, it compliments his creamy skin and brings out of the sea-green in his eyes. He can't be a few years older than Clarissa, his curved lips and pointed chin gives him the appearance of a cheeky imp when he smiles.
Chuck shuts the door as the men approach the table, Clarissa and Peter rise to their feet to greet them.
"Mr Baines, Mr Lestrade, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance at last." She says politely, holding out her hand. Baines shakes her hand, not smiling, but when it comes to Lestrade's turn to accept her hand he raises it to his lips and softly kisses the back of her knuckles, never breaking eye contact with her.
Clarissa takes her hand back, the spot where he kissed it is tingling slightly.
"Please sit." She gestures to the chairs and she and Peter retake their seats.
"Can I get you a drink?" She asks, her eyes flickering to Chuck's, who takes the hint and strolls behind the bar.
"I cannot visit The Strand and not sample their oh so good single malt," Lestrade says throatily, watching for her reaction. She recognises the praise with an inclination of her head.
"I'll have a bourbon," Baines says while glancing around the pub suspiciously. Blank walls and empty chairs stare back.
"Of course," Clarissa replies, she tilts her head and watches him shift sceptically. "I can assure you Mr Baines that none of my people hiding in walls to attack you, I wouldn't do you that dishonour."
His face snaps to hers, his expression unreadable. "I see." He says slowly, "I expected more...uh security for our first meeting, forgive me."
"Do I have a need for more security?" She questions, folding her arms on the table.
"I don't think that is what Lewis was meaning." Lestrade excuses quickly, "We worked with your grandfather and there was a trust between us but we haven't dealt with you. We are as new to you as you are to us." His eyes rave over the visible parts of her bare skin and they grow hungry, "A delightful change it is too."
Trepidation crawls up the back of her neck but she ignores his compliment, "My grandfather trusted you as much as was possible given our line of work, I think you will agree there is mutual trust and I am simply honouring that."
"You look like him." Baines says bluntly, "You have the same eyes."
"Thank you." Clarissa murmers, caught off guard, "I hope I am like him in many ways."
"It is a shame we are meeting in these conditions," Lestrade comments, "I would've hoped to have become acquainted on more pleasurable terms...."
His meaning is not lost on her, but she bites her lip to keep her words in her mouth. His sensual gaze drops to the lip in question and he looks smug. Peter clears his throat.
"Daniel Cavendish, you know him?" He says, glaring at Lestrade and then addressing Baines.
"That boy is causing a great shift in our world. He's fighting back." Baines responds, scowling, "He wants what he thinks he's entitled to."
"His arrogant ass has taken Cuthbert and Alderbridge without mercy," Lestrade states with venom, "He is a poison."
"I've met him twice. He's coming for us and I don't intend to lie down and wait for him to snap my neck. I want him gone, as I am sure you do." Clarissa says, "But I can't destroy him on my own, and I am not prepared to lose to him, of all people. My family have fought and survived too much to let a rich posh boy take it all away."
"With all due respect...The Lenoirs have hardly suffered," Baines sneers, "Not like us."
Clarissa feels Peter stiffen at her side and under the table she places her hand on his knee. He doesn't look at her, content to glare at Baines but he does relax a bit. At this moment Chuck approaches the table with a tray of glasses. He sides the whisky along to Lestrade and slams the bourbon in front of Baines, a little harder than necessary. Chuck hands Peter a glass of port and places a glass of champagne by her elbow, before returning the tray to the bar and retaking his protective position on her left. She picks up the stem of the glass and takes a sip of the bubbly liquid. It tickles as it runs down her throat, she sets it down.
"You are right, I don't know what it is to be poor or to go hungry, but I know the pain of being ridiculed. I know what it is like to be hunted down and beaten until you can't stand. My grandfather made certain that I knew where I came from. He ensured that I experienced the pain, the anger and the fear of my ancestors. The Strand wasn't always the beautiful bounty that you see today, it was a terrible lawless place where people came to die, but my family changed that." She smiles with no emotion, "I don't know your suffering but do not presume to know mine."
Baines considers her words, looking at her with an odd expression. Lestrade remains quiet, almost bashful. Clarissa can't tell whether she's impressed them or amused them.
"We all want Cavendish gone, that unites us, it gives us a common cause, one we should fight for." She says, "I am not asking for your land or your people. I am simply proposing that we make an alliance, one that will benefit everyone." She glances at Peter who gives her a small jerk of his head, signalling for her to continue.
She looks into Baines's face, "After me it's you, Cavendish is not the kind of man to stop, he wants everything, he wants what is not his. He wants London. Are you going to let him take it?"
She sits back in her chair, nothing more to say, it's their move now.
"What kind of alliance are we talking about?" Lestrade asks. Peter leans forward and pulls three contracts out of his jacket, he slides two along to the guests, and one to Clarissa.
"It's a straightforward agreement, an equal partnership, you will bring down Cavendish together and equally divide any profits, land and work ect." He explains, "You can run your territory any way you see fit after the war is won."
Baines's brow furrows as he reads but Lestrade doesn't bother to even look at it. He addresses Clarissa with a cocky confidence, his fingers dancing over where his signature would go.
"I will sign on one condition."
"And that is?" She inquires, her eyes flashing.
"I want a bullet in Cavendish's head."
Clarissa feels her throat stick but she doesn't react to his request, her poker face holds. That wasn't what she expected him to say, part of her is relieved, but the other part is quietly freaking out.
"If Baines is in agreement then I will add it in." She says nonchalantly, "I have no need to keep him alive."
Lestrade looks pleased and he settles back into his chair, "This is excellent by the way." He holds up the glass, "Stellar stuff."
"Thank you." She replies in a clipped tone, her attention on the other man. Baines looks up from the contract.
"It's not enough," He says. "I want the whole family dead."
Clarissa can't stop herself from letting out a little sigh.
"I am not sure that's completely necessary," Peter answers for her. "The Cavendish family is extensive and it will be difficult to..."
"It's not about necessity," Baines cuts him off, he slides the contract away from him, "It's my condition."
"What did he do to you?" Clarissa asks, watching as the regret in his eyes is disguised and overpowered by a brutal vengeance. He scowls at her. Lestrade looks towards him with added interest, the same question on his lips.
"He took my sister and killed her." Baines curses, "He took a defenceless innocent girl and broke her until she was nothing."
"I see," Clarissa purses her lips, surprised at this new information, she never knew he had a sister. Rage fills her mind as she imagines losing her own siblings, she fixes him with a dark look.
"Their lives are yours."
Baines smiles at last but it's more of a murderous grin.
"Well, this is excellent." Lestrade claps his hands together and looks to Chuck. "Another one on the house big man." He holds up his empty glass. Chuck gathers up the glasses and stalks over to the bar. He meets Clarissa's eyes over the heads of the guests and he pulls a vexed face.
"I will have the contracts emended and Peter will deliver them to you personally tomorrow," She says. Peter nods.
"You are as efficient as Roderick," Lestrade affirms with admiration.
"I agree, I look forward to working with you," Baines says, but she can't help but hear insincerity in his tone.
"And getting to know you more," Lestrade winks. She snickers.
"I must confess that I am more familiar with you than you are aware." She points over to the bar, "Once or twice I hid over there and listened to my grandfather's meetings. I couldn't help my curiosity as a child,"
Baines looks impressed and Lestrade chuckles something about curious women.
"Very sneaky," Peter observes, looking proud, "Clarissa is a true Lenoir."
She smiles at her lap, it feels good to have Peter in her corner, backing her up.
Lestrade leers at her, "It's good to see that your mother's dirty french blood hasn't corrupted your mind or intelligence."
His words chill her blood and her smile vanishes, but she is saved from replying as Chuck places down the tray of four whiskies. She snatches hers and holds it up in a toast. The men follow suit.
"To a successful alliance," She says clearly, "May the future of this city be ours."
"To London." The men echo and their glasses chink together.
~
The rest of the meeting consists of a lot of drinking for Lestrade and quiet brooding for Baines but she and Peter still politely listen to their stories as Chuck tops up the drinks. Baines and Lestrade leave the pub around 12:30, several pints later. It's a relief for Clarissa to close the door on their backs. She stretches her limbs, feeling a dull ache in her joints. Chuck starts to put all the chairs and tables back in their original position and Peter disappears to the office muttering about work. She grabs her fur from behind the bar and throws it around her shoulders.
"You can open later today." She yawns, circling her stiff neck, "Make sure you get enough sleep."
"Thank you miss," Chuck says as he places the chairs around the tables. "But the One-Eyed Duke will be ready for evening service by 3:30 as usual."
"If you are sure." She shrugs. "I shall bid you good night, uh good morning, farewell." She falters and gives him a confused look, "What time is it?"
"Indeed miss." Chuck half-smiles, "Do get home safe,"
"I'll walk you," Peter says as he comes out of the office, buttoning up his jacket.
"Alright, " She says, "Goodbye Chuck,"
"See you tomorrow," Peter calls to the barman as he places a hand on Clarissa's back and escorts her out into the early morning. The light is dim and the gas lamps wash the cobbled street in a dull orange glow. The pair don't speak for several paces, they both breathe in the crisp air and admire the growing light in the distant sky. It is nice to be out in the quiet and serenity after the tightness and stress of the meeting.
"It went well," Peter says shortly as they reach the end of Savoy Street. Clarissa half glances at him.
"You think so?"
"I know those two, you could hardly expect a better result, they were always going to be tough to crack."
"They are still going to be tough to manage, I have a feeling they aren't done making demands of me, of us." She says before groaning. The thought of dealing with more of Lestrade's suggestive comments has her stomach curling with disgust.
"You handled them and you will continue to, like the boss you are," He says assertively.
"Was that a compliment....?" She replies slyly, "Did you just agree that I am the boss?"
Peter grumbles but his face is relaxed. She nudges him in the ribs and smiles.
"Thank you."
He rolls his eyes and shoves her off the pavement, she stumbles onto the road but it doesn't knock the grin off her face. Peter walks her back to her house, he says goodbye to her at the door and then heads home.
Clarissa slips upstairs using the hidden backdoor key to let herself in. She leaves her hairdo in, too exhausted to take out all the pins and feathers. She strips off her dress and throws it at her wardrobe before collapsing into bed in her undergarments. She stares at the ceiling, relishing the feeling of the soft mattress on her back. She snuggles down into the thick covers and closes her eyes.
A loud thumping wakes her up only a few hours later, along with the sound of her bedroom door being forced open. Clarissa sits up, panicked, her hand immediately reaching for the knife in her top drawer. She pulls it out just as she registers the person who has stormed into her room.
"Flo!!" Clarissa cries, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Her nose wrinkles at the strong smell her friend as brought in, she sniffs, "And what's that smell, is that...ash?" Only then does she see her friend's tear-stained and blackened face.
"You have to come quick," Florence sobs, her dress is torn and dirtied. "You have to come now!"
"Flo, what's happened?" Clarissa asks in a soothing tone, despite her panic threatening to rise, "Take a deep breath and tell me what's going on."
Florence takes three huge gulps of air, tears still spilling from her eyes. Once she has regained control of her breathing she speaks.
"The ports are burning."