“Cully is well?”
“Fair to middling. Of course, it’s his birthday today, so he’s in the drink already, though I hate to say it. But that’s Cully.” He stopped just outside a tall door.
“They’re in the courtyard, enjoying the sun. But I should tell you that the foreman stopped by and we’ll be having a new man with us, any day now. The name is Berket. Can’t say that I remember him very well, but he was beginning when I left, I expect.”
“There’s room enough?” Elijah asked.
“More than enough! We’ve got that room from when Lasker left us, a month ago that’s been. And there’s Nicholson’s room open still, and another one too, when Miss Sophisba ain’t choosing to stay there. She’s here today and will be glad to see Yer Grace.”
“Anything you need, just send a boy to Towse,” Elijah said. He glanced down at Jemma. “Towse is one of my solicitors.”
“We need nothing,” Knabby said merrily. “We admired them fruits as you sent from yer conservatory, Yer Grace, but to tell the truth, none of the men would eat them. They’re set in their ways, and they’re not adventuresome, if you know what I mean. The children snapped them right up, though.”
“Who is Miss Sophisba?” Jemma whispered as Knabby opened the door. “And—”
“You’ll see,” Elijah said, and there was something so grim about his voice that Jemma stopped talking.
At first sight the small courtyard seemed to be hosting a children’s party, but after a moment Jemma realized that there were more chickens than people, and though both groups were making noise, the three children chasing a puppy were winning the contest.
“Now look who’s come to celebrate Cully’s birthday,” Knabby announced. “The duke is here, you group of lazy scubblers!”
The courtyard was dominated by a circle of dilapidated armchairs mostly occupied by men, all of whom turned toward Knabby’s voice. And all of whom, Jemma realized immediately, were blind.
They were a curious bunch. For one thing, not everyone had chosen to put on clothing. Two men were entirely without trousers; their scrawny white legs stretched out in the weak sun. One of them had a beard so long that it was tucked into the waistband of his apron, which he wore, incongruously, on top of a plaid coat.
There were two women, one a hard-mouthed matron whom she assumed must be Mrs. Nibble, as she looked precisely like someone who wielded a mean saucepan.
The other must be Miss Sophisba. She was younger, and while not exactly pretty, she had the air of someone who made an effort. Most of that effort involved lip rouge and improbably golden hair. It appeared to be directed toward attracting male attention, which seemed odd, given that no one could see her except Mrs. Nibble. And Mrs. Nibble was definitely not the sort to enjoy crimson lips and yellow hair.
One of the half-naked men stood up. “Get up, ye flea-bitten knabblesquabbers,” he bellowed suddenly. “The duke’s here. You should be on yer feet and doing the pretty! It’s my birthday and I’ll have everything in—in—”
He sat down suddenly. Knabby was definitely right. Cully had been in the drink, and never mind the fact that it was morning.
“And the duchess is with me,” Elijah said easily. The frown had dropped from his face and he looked as genial as if he had entered a tea party in Kensington. “I’ve brought along my wife, the prettiest duchess in all the kingdom.”
“I wish we could see that,” the bearded man said, staring into space. “I’ve never seen a real duchess. Though I did see the queen once. She had a fearsome wig, the queen did.” He elbowed Mrs. Nibble. “Is there a wig, one of those tall ones?”
“She’s wearing a velvet dress,” the older woman told him. She had risen and given a quick bob of a curtsy and then sat back down directly. “She doesn’t have one of those wigs on her head. I think she has her own hair, but with some powder on it, like nobs wear.”