After settling his resolve, Benedict soon bid Darwin farewell.
"I shall fetch your lodgings, and once settled, we will reconvene," Benedict had told him.
He also mentioned that, when Gabriel wasn't following a case, he was usually buried in bureaucratic work.
Until Darwin officially joined the Hemlocks, Benedict would act as his stand-in messenger.
Just then, Darwin realized there had been no mention of a contract, nor had he been asked to complete any paperwork.
He would not have gone back on his word.
He sighed and turned on his heel. "No sense lingering in an empty hall."
The floorboards groaned as he descended the stairs.
Stepping into the narrow lane, he drew his coat collar up against the breeze.
As he stepped out into the narrow lane, Darwin tucked his coat's collar up against the breeze.
He waited a heartbeat before grasping the trailing silk of a receding carriage, while lanterns swayed along the drive and guided him away from the sunrise.
. . .
As dawn spread beneath the overcast sky, the streets of Dorrawyn dulled into pencil-sketch outlines.
Darwin had napped well past noon. When he finally woke, it was to the creak of floorboards above his small flat.
Darwin peeled the covers away and rubbed a hand across his brow, then swung his legs free of the bed.
He changed out of his clothing from the early morning, and put on a crisp white shirt before placing a brown waistcoat over top, and dark trousers.
His gaze drifted to the stack of letters strewn across the small table beside his bed.
He checked the clock. There were still hours before his evening shift at the printing house.With a low sigh, he eased into the armchair facing his oak shelves.
He had barely settled when—
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Darwin lifted his head at once, briefly perplexed. Rarely did anyone have either the courage or the reason to seek him out.
He remained still, listening for more sounds.
When nothing came, a thin smile touched his lips. 'Probably some solicitor,' he assumed. 'Few hereabouts could afford one.'
Then another tap sounded, swiftly followed by a third.
He rose, smoothing his sleeves, and moved toward the door.
It creaked open by a cautious inch. Darwin wedged the tip of his boot against it.
The evening light outlined a familiar figure on the threshold.
"Afternoon," said Benedict White.
Darwin's eyes narrowed, and his lip curled into a look of faint distaste.
The man was now clad in a longer dark coat.
"I don't recall offering you my address," he said coolly. "But of course, how remiss of me to forget Gabriel's habit of keeping a spare key about."
"Not quite. He thought it prudent that I collect you in person. There's work to be done, and I doubt you entertain many uninvited callers."
"Brilliant deduction," Darwin drawled.
Benedict gazed up through the narrow gap.
Darwin clicked his tongue and made a languid survey of the room behind him.
At length, Benedict cleared his throat. "Might I step inside, Mr. Darwin?"
Darwin raised a brow. "And why does this pressing business require you to enter my home?"
"Our… assignment," Benedict began, then paused, eyes darting toward the street as though measuring the shadows for eavesdroppers. "Best not discussed where prying ears might linger. Unless, of course, you relish being tailed. We've already had to dismiss a few under charges of negligence."
Darwin's brow furrowed into a flat line.
With a resigned sigh, he moved aside just enough for Benedict to pass.
"Do come in, rookie," he said, mock-benevolent. "And if you can manage not to trail in the street on those gleaming boots, I might even be impressed."
Benedict's lower lip twitched.
He stepped inside and swept the room with a professional glance.
His eyes paused on the small writing desk stacked with papers along the left wall. 'So he dabbles in writing by daylight, he thought. How curious that such a nondescript gentleman can seem so entrancing through another's gaze.'
'He is most assuredly not so substantial a figure as Mr. Gabriel made him seem.'
"Quite the immaculate gentleman, sir," Benedict finally said aloud, as he removed his gloves and slipped them into his coat pocket. "It's no surprise you would make such a request before you even invited me in."
'He seems delusional.'
Darwin closed the door with a quiet click.
"I confess I was unprepared. Most bachelors in your… profession," Benedict paused, voice light with formal restraint, "are inclined to clutter."
Darwin's features remained composed, though his eyes darkened with impatience. "The lower working class?"
"One might say they're far too entangled in ink-spills on their papers and their person to master the art of folding them neatly."
Benedict cleared his throat before a chuckle escaped from his chest.
Shortly after, he unfastened his coat at the collar and shuffled his stance near the door, caught between sitting down and remaining upright.
Darwin tilted one shoulder against the wall, lifting a hand in invitation toward the armchair. "Now, if we may," he said briskly, "let us speak of why you've come. I trust this is no mere social call, unless your sole errand was to procure more information of my status."
Benedict's brow lifted faintly. "Not at all," he clarified. "As I've begun with, Gabriel deems it prudent to acclimatize you before fully drawing you into Hemlock affairs."
"'Acclimatize,'" Darwin echoed with a shred of derision at his lips. "A genteel euphemism, though I have no intention of fleeing, as long as I am paid what I was promised. Training, then."
Benedict pressed his fingertips together and inclined his head. "My apologies, training, indeed."
Darwin hummed and glimpsed outside the window.
The London sky was quickly succumbing to hues of ash and violet.
He'd soon need to depart for the printing house, and thus this "training" would need to be sorted out with timeliness.
"I'll need to return before my shift," he remarked.
"When is your shift?" Benedict inquired.
"Half past eight."
Benedict remained silent a beat too long before producing a silver pocket watch.
He snapped it open and brought it close to his eyes so that he could study the small numerals behind the glass face.
After making a satisfied nod, he closed it with an assured click. "You'll be back in time. Gabriel had already instructed me to ensure it."
Darwin inclined his chin, shrinking his eyelids into a thin slit.
Skepticism lingered at the edge of his expression.
After a moment's pause, he detached himself from the wall and strode half across the room to take up his outer garments.
"I trust you'll don something with a brim should you ever intend to drag me out in the broad daylight," he said crisply. "Unless you intend to haul me about like a stack of manuscripts and watch me crisp in the sunlight."
"It's late enough that your coat and scarf should suffice. Still, I'll note your preference for future outings. Perhaps a parasol? Though I do not possess one, I would gladly procure one if it proves useful."
Darwin draped the scarf over his shoulders. "Unlikely we'll need it, with most of our work commencing at night."
As he smoothed the final crease of his frock coat, he cast a sidelong glance toward Benedict.
"So tell me, rookie…" The title escaped once again on his lips.
"…How old are you? You seem as though you've only just stepped out of the schoolroom."
"Twenty-one." Benedict's reply came without hesitation.
"Mm. Quite remarkable. Only three years younger than I," Darwin replied, drawing his hat over his head. "And yet here you stand, shepherding me about as though I were the fledgling."
"You are the fledgling," Benedict returned evenly. "And I already knew you were twenty-four. So neither of us has cause to call the other senior."
Darwin made a dismayed expression. "Three years' difference. Curious, isn't it?"
"Curious?"
"You and Gabriel," Darwin said, flicking a lazy hand toward the stairwell. "You look young. Yet the two of you could pass for brothers, not uncle and nephew. Unless he began very early."
Benedict's lips curved faintly.
He did not answer at once. They went down the stairs and passed through the outer door before he spoke.
"I never asked after his age," he said. "But his file places him in his late twenties. Early thirties at most."
Darwin glanced his way and reached for the latch.
Outside, he drew his scarf higher around his throat until the pale line of his jaw disappeared beneath the wool.
"Does that surprise you?" Benedict asked.
"A little. I thought we were of similar age."
Benedict frowned slightly.
"It is strange," he said. "Your address. Your age. Even your daily habits. Our file is very thorough, for someone not yet in our employ."
His gloved fingers flexed at his side.
"Perhaps only enough to prepare us," he added. "Not enough to make you uneasy."
Darwin slowed his step.
"I am not uneasy," he said. "Only wary."
After a moment, he continued,
"I merely find it strange that any record exists at all. For many years, I believed no one even knew I was here."
Benedict inclined his head, his gaze passing over a nearby gaslamp.
"It seems," Darwin said, "that I am not as invisible as I once thought."