Wellington

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All that really belongs to us is time; even he who has nothing else has that. -- Baltasar Gracian

Wellington’s friend turned out to be Jasper Holmes, the very man we had been looking for in our foray in the seedier side of New Orleans. [Insert description of Jasper here.] The tavern, a dark hole called The Green Man Pub, was busy but Mr. Holmes offered us a private room at Wellington’s request.

“For you my friend, of course!” He said giving David a hearty clap on the shoulder. “I’ll send Rose to attend to ye.”

“Just have her bring us something to eat and drink, Jasper. My new acquaintances and I have some business to discuss.” Holmes ducked his head slightly in a bow to Harold and myself, giving me a sort of leer out of his one good eye. Wellington shifted his weight slightly towards me sending a quiet signal of ownership to Holmes. While I appreciated the protection from the letch, I certainly did not appreciate his proprietary actions towards me. Harold seemed not to notice.

“Of course, my friend! I shall send her immediately. Wine with dinner? Or something stronger for the young man?”

“Wine for the lady,” Wellington replied. “Whisky for him if you have it.” Holmes bowed again and left us in the small room above the main room. It was sparsely furnished with a small divan that had seen better days and a rough table of oak with four chairs. A fire burned merrily warming the room and my chilled bones. Harold dropped on the divan and buried his head in his hands.

“Oh Harold,” I said sitting next to him. “Why did you have to play hero?” He didn’t lift his head but moaned slightly. I ran a hand over the bump that was forming where he had been hit. The cut there was clotting already but he likely had one hell of a headache. “It’s not so bad, Harold.”

“I know that,” he hissed. “I’m allowed to be embarrassed Kate.”

I removed my hand from his head and pulled away from him. “Why should you be embarrassed? It wasn’t your fault.”

Wellington cleared his throat from across the room. I looked up at him, annoyed that he should be eavesdropping. He gave me a slight shake of his head. I narrowed my eyes at him, still not sure of the man. After all, he was still a stranger to us. “Your head hurts, Mr. Weems?” He said to Harold.

Harold lifted his head. “Like someone tried to split my skull.”

Wellington smiled. “I’m sure they had something like that in mind. Perhaps you would like to lay down for a bit while we wait for our food?” Harold nodded and gave me a nasty glare that clearly said ‘go away.’ I glared back but obliged and rose from the divan. He stretched out throwing an arm over his eyes, effectively shutting me out. Frustrated with him, I crossed the room to the table and sat still wrapped in my wet cloak. I really did like Harold but right at the moment I wished Kim had come instead of him. Kim wouldn’t have hesitated to try my plan.

Wellington pulled a chair out and sat opposite me. He laid his hands on the table, one finger tapping gently on the tabletop. “Shall we start over?”

“Pardon me?”

“We met under unfortunate circumstances. I would like to remedy that,” he said with a simple shrug.

“Oh? Well how would you like to start over? I can’t begin to imagine a more impressive introduction,” I returned coldly.

“Very true. But I would like to explain if you will allow me?” I rolled my eyes not seeing that I had much of a choice. “You will remember me from Madame d’Arbanville’s?”
I looked at him in surprise. I didn’t remember him being there actually. “You were there?”

“Yes. We weren’t introduced there despite my intentions.”

“You wanted to meet there? Why?”

The door opened and the serving girl entered with a tray of food and drink. Wellington leaned back and smiled pleasantly at her waiting for her to finish her task and leave before answering. “Therese thought I could help you find your brother,” he said simply.

“She did? But she sent us here to find Mr. Holmes,” I said confused.

“Yes, and Jasper was supposed to send you to me. Unfortunately, you and Harold stumbled across me first while I was conducting a little interview with Mr. Wolfe.”

“The man with the gold tooth.” He nodded. “I’m still confused. Why were you with them when they attacked us?”

“As soon as Harold flashed that coin at the Tavern, I knew Wolfe would try something. He’s a violent man who can smell an easy target.” He lowered his voice considerably. “Harold is unfortunately very easy to read and a little foolish. I think you will agree with me.” I didn’t have to answer. He could see how I felt about Harold just by looking at me. “I decided to join him to see if I could stop it. I failed in that respect but you’re both still alive.”

“How do I know you aren’t in league with that man Wolfe?” I asked. It wasn’t in me to trust him just yet.

“You’ll have to take my word for it. Of course, you could always ask Madame d’Arbanville. She would tell you that I am not a criminal.”

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