The Last Philosopher

The strangest of meetings

Waiting for the ladyship, Charlie scrubbed, dusted, and wiped the already clean office. If the place was a person, it'd be missing the first few levels of skin. While taking her restlessness out on the innocent dust bunnies. Time and again, she found herself back at the window. Pushing aside the flower-patterned curtains that Earl was always putting down. But as no one was coming across the square, her hope faded a tiny bit. Herschel was no help. His disregard for his own mortality was driving her mad.

It was getting late when she sneaked another peak, and finally saw the odd couple. Since there was neither rain nor sun, Patrick was walking behind the ladyship holding a black umbrella over her sun-hat. Still, at least she had the sense to wear a hat, Charlene still hadn't given up on getting one on Herschel.

Squeezing the knob until her knuckles went white, she waited to open the door. She'd be even faster than Patrick, that'd finally get a reaction out of the knobhead. When the somehow formal knock came she flinched ripping the door open. Even so, the butler's expression was as blank as ever.

"You're not usually this prompt my dear. Can we assume we were expected?" Ms Skvosip stepped in like she owned the place.

"I guess I was waiting?"

"Of course you were, but perhaps you could consider putting as much effort into your work?"

Sauntering around, the old woman peeked into nooks and crannies. Taking of her glove, she even ran her finger across the top of a window frame frowning with disgust. Charlie was stunned, she could only watch as Patrick handed her his handkerchief.

"This Herschel character, he's not going to try anything peculiar, is he?" The old woman meticulously wiped her finger before removing her hat.

"No, he's very nice, didn't I say that earlier?"

"I don't think you did. But I suppose we should get on with it, we don't have all night."

Ms Skvosip moved into her spotless corridor, closely followed by 'the man' as she called Patrick. Charlie took a moment to recover before going after them. Entering the jail, she wasn't sure what she was seeing. But something amazing had happened. It was almost mesmerising. Herschel and the ladyship were locked in some kind of epic staring contest. It was like watching the moon try to stare down the sun. The tension was deafening. All of a sudden, they broke the trance and smiled at each other like old pals.

"Patrick! Get a sheet for this man to drape himself in, a nice one, he looks ridiculous in that getup."

Herschel was wearing the clothes Charlene'd picked out. Blue work pants, a white shirt, and a grey wool west.

"Madame?" Patrick sounded baffled, but Charlie was too distracted to enjoy the moment.

"What's the problem, do as you're told! Then take the young lady to Bern's, we want to be alone. I'll see you there when we're done."

"Herschel?" Charlene wanted to be reassured this was okay.

"I agree, it would be best if you left us, and I'm in no way opposed to the sheet either."

"Okay, come on let's go," Charlie said to Rascal, but she wasn't budging.

"The dog can stay, she's a good girl, isn't she? Besides, obedience is not the same as intelligence." Ms Skvosip's voice was doting as she bent down to pet Rascal, the whole scene was uncanny.

Before Charlie had time to think about any of this, Patrick came back with the sheet. He respectfully grabbed her arm and led her away. But she managed to overhear the old woman saying. "No one likes a smart-arse, so you'd better tell me everything."

Charlie couldn't help wondering how the ladyship'd known Rascal was a girl now. She could've asked Patrick, but she was too filled with questions. If she opened her mouth they would all spew out over this relative stranger. As they entered Bern's, they were greeted by the gawking regulars. Men like Patrick, who wore fancy suits, were queer enough in Stagna. But to wear them to work, and as a servant no less, that was dangerously far from the norm. They were saved by Earl waving them over to his table.

"Don't see you in here a lot Patrick, how about a beer?"

"I thought you didn't drink marshal?"

"You're well informed, I didn't think that was common knowledge. So, how did the old man and the ladyship get along?"

Patrick's lips tightened, he wanted to say something. If it was about the ladyship thing or what they'd seen in the jail, she had no idea. Earl gave Charlene a quizzical look, but the only thing she could do was shrug.

"I wouldn't mind trying the supper, I've heard about it but Madame has never consented to bring it into the mansion."

"I'll get it!" Earl and Charlie both yelled and raced from the awkwardness at the table, but she got to the kitchen door first.

It was kinda late and the only warm thing was the perpetual stew. A great pot that the Bloomer family'd kept cooking for generations. Fannie added a bit of this and that when it started running low. Herschel'd wondered whether it was the really the same stew, since every part of it must have been replaced by now. Backing through the kitchen's swing doors with a steaming plate, she found Earl'd moved to the counter. He gave her a wink that said, better luck next time kid, so she stuck her tongue out at him. After she put the food down in front of the butler, she turned to join him at the bar.

"No knife," Patrick asked looking at the lonely fork.

"Fannie feels if ya need a knife, it ain't been cooked enough," Charlie joked and reluctantly sat down.

As the hours passed, they took turns sitting with Patrick. One would think he might relax a bit with the ladyship absent, but he had no problem maintaining his air of superiority. Fannie usually closed long before midnight, but he refused to leave until Ms Skvosip came to get him. Not even willing to move over to Maguire's, the ale-house next door. That place stayed open as long as anyone had a drop left in their pint, or a coin in their pocket. But even Maguire's was closed when Charlie woke the following morning. To the sound of agitated whispering.

"But Madame, you can't be serious, you're going to help this man?"

"We'll talk about it later," Ms Skvosip hissed turning to Charlie.

"Ya're really gonna to help 'im?"

"Taking a stand for what's right has value, even if it doesn't change the outcome."

"What?" Confusion stopped Charlie's tears.

"Just something your friend said."

"Yeah, tha' sounds like 'im."

"Understand that I'm not giving any guarantees, and I have some terms before I talk with the judge."

"But ya can convince 'im to let Herschel go?"

"Perhaps not let him go. But I've known Bres since he was a lazy little boy, who grew into a lazy little man. I'm confident we can work something out." The old woman smirked with malicious compliance.

"Okay... what's the terms?"

"The terms are secrecy, you never came to my house, we never spoke about Herschel, and I most certainly never met him. As far as anyone knows none of this ever happened, understood?"

"Got it,"she said with a lump in her throat. There was no stopping her tears now.

"Come now dear, this is no time for crying. I expect you to make sure these other two comply." Fannie and Earl were still asleep at the next table, holding each other's hands.

"I will, I promise!"

"I'll wait until two days into the trial before I speak to Bres, so make sure you do. If I hear even a whisper about my involvement, I'll forget about this matter!"

Ms Skvosip gave her a stern look before she took Patrick's arm and left. The others woke to Charlie's heavy sobs of relief. Rambling, she explained what'd happened. They had lots of questions, but she had no answers. Yet, they both agreed to keep what she promised. Now they just had to wait for the trial.

Updated: 23.11.2023