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Post by Isabel Maddox on Jan 4, 2021 6:24:28 GMT
It was the weekend. Saturday to be exact. The mill was closed on Sundays to give the workers their day off. They sometimes got Saturdays off if they were ahead of schedule, or John was feeling generous. Isabel ran the books, played gracious hostess to any business meetings Johns had at the Mill, the works. Saturday was a day she dubbed her half day. Spending the mornings to go to town with the housekeeper and get their weekly shopping done.
The carriage ride over to the shopping district wasn't a long one, and she was helped down from the step. Minding her skirts, she was dressed in a dark green dress, buttoned up to her neckline. Her hair was up in it's usual tight bun, and she'd exchanged the bowler's hat from the night previous with a sun hat that matched the dress she wore. A wicker basket was in the crook of her arm.
Looking very much so like the rich lady she was. The only slightly off about her was her hand left hand was wrapped in a white bandage from a burn she'd received from the night prior. Her late-night activities finally catching up with her, as she'd finally been caught on. She had to consider her blessings, however, that Mr. Jeckyll had let her off with a minor warning. The burn was her own doing as she'd held his wrist until she couldn't physically bear it anymore. A salve had worked wonders, and now her hand was nicely bandaged. "I was clumsy and let go of the hot kettle. Reached out to catch it as a reflex." The lie had come easily when the housekeeper had tsked at her and asked her what she'd done.
No one needed to know she'd been caught at a gaming hell disguised as a man, and that the man she'd planted on his ass had burned her for it. Mr. Clyde... She thought of him now as she was walked past the stalls casually, the Maddox housekeeper already beginning her hunt. Isabel usually had a routine when she came to the shopping district and the housekeeper knew it far too well. Isabel was a stubborn one much to the older woman's disdain, and after several arguments, had finally allowed Isabel to walk down to the poorer part of the shopping district.
Despite being a woman from a rich family, Isabel had always thought she should use her status for good, rather than rub it into other's faces. The working class was hardworking and for a reason. She saw it every day with her own eyes how the men came to work in the mill and Saturdays? Saturday was when Isabel came and supported their women that were trying to make a living by selling whatever goods they could. "Miss Izzy!!!" She heard her name called out by a little voice, and her head turned to see a gaggle of children suddenly racing towards her. Many she knew, because their father's worked for her brother. This was another reason she liked to come down here. To spend time with some of her favorite little people. They were excellent helpers in judging the best potatoes and carrots, and after repeatedly telling their mothers it was quite alright, and that she meant no harm, several had warmed up to her and even welcomed the hour distraction so they could get their own shopping done, or tend to their stands without children running around.
"My my! I swear you've all grown at least an inch since last week!" She exclaimed, holding her arms out for her dose of hugs. "No we're not!" Little Hank exclaimed. "I did I did!" Little Timmy said jumping up and down. "Miss Izzy! What did you do to your hand!?" Mae, asked. She was the Williams daughter and oldest of the small group at 7. Followed by Hank Michaels at 6, Timmy Dreiling at 5, Charlie White at 4, and..."Oh nuuuuuuues!" Came a small cry, as little Ada White came toddling over. Instantly scooped up, and put on Isabel's hip. She was nearly three, and the younger sister of Little Charlie. "I'm quite alright sweets, It's not so bad." She told them reassuringly. "You must be wary of hot things, or they can hurt you." She explained. "Did you touch something hot?" Timmy asked, and Isabel smiled at him. "I did, I held on so tight, it nearly burned my hand off." She remarked. The children gasped in mock horror. "You're going to be okay though right?" Mae asked, gingerly reaching out to touch her bandaged hand. Isabel gave her fingers a squeeze to prove her point. "Quite alright. I'm stronger than I look." She winked at them.
She bounced Ada in her arms and glanced at her. "What do you think Ada, shall we start the shopping?" She asked, reaching up to tuck one of the little girl's curls behind her ear. "Yeah!" The little girl said happily, and Isabel grinned at her. "Alrighty then let's get started!" Being the next second to youngest, Isabel took Little Charlie's hand and the three older children hurried on ahead. Knowing her routine. From what she knew, Charlie and Ada didn't have a mother. Influenza had taken her years ago. Leaving them both motherless, and their father forced to work even harder. They spent most days with a babysitter. Ada babbled at her, and Charlie held her bandaged gently. He was a quiet boy, but he liked the attention when he could get it.
As they moved down the street, Isabel couldn't help but feel like there was a pair of eyes watching her. She glanced around several times before the children drew her attention away. Time seemed to go by quickly then, as the children were called one by one back to their mothers. Isabel giving each one a hug goodbye until Charlie and Ada were last. She bent down to set Ada down, poking her nose lightly before she asked Charlie to come here. His birthday had been in the previous week, and she had a small surprise for him.
Not caring if the hem of her dress go dirty she asked him to pick a hand. Holding each of her fists out to him. He picked one and she turned her palm over, showing it was empty. "Wait a second what's this?" She gasped before she reached forward, and then acted like she'd just pulled a coin out from behind his ear. He looked at her in shock. His brown eyes going wide, and his little mouth forming a small 'o'. She took his little hand and then pressed the coin in the middle of his palm before curling his fingers around it. Holding his hand between hers. "Happy Birthday Charlie." She beamed at him. "Don't spend it all at once all right? Save it." She told him. "Thank you Miss Izzy." he said quietly, but he gave her a sheepish smile. "You're most welcome. Now off to your nanny. Mind your sister, bye Ada!" She said waving to both the children. Charlie pocketed the coin and then took Ada's hand where they proceeded to run towards their waiting Nanny who waved at Isabel. She waved back. A faint smile on her face while she staid crouched for another moment before rising to her feet.
That feeling of being watched suddenly intensified again. Sending an uneasy feeling down her back. The smile soon faded from her face, and in its place was the cold expression she normally wore. She adjusted her skirts for a moment before she picked up her basket and turned around. Laying eyes on what was making her so uneasy.
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Post by Mr. Jeckyll on Jan 5, 2021 4:18:19 GMT
What were the chances?
Was it chance?
He wasn't sure anymore.
What he was sure of, though, was that he couldn't follow her forever before she noticed him. Better to be spotted on purpose than let her catch him spying.
He'd just been out about his business--ironically enough, he'd been collecting payment from that selfsame Mr. White whose two small children were hanging all over his mystery woman from last night. He nearly hadn't recognized her, what with the glowing smile on her face--it was quite the contrast to the outrage and irritation from the dark alley. But her injury confirmed it. She could hide it with clean bandages and a pretty dress, but it seemed that he knew her secret.
A shame that she didn't know Mr. White's. The man was a regular at that same gambling hell where she'd been caught--or he had been, anyway, until Clyde had cut off his credit line. Randal didn't know, and what Randal didn't know, could hurt Clyde and White both. But he'd covered the man's debt for the sake of that curly-headed child whose chubby arms had been wrapped around "Miss Izzy" only a moment before. She and her brother reminded him too much of himself and Cel. His weakness. But he wasn't giving the man the money for anything. He expected every cent back.
It was a bitter reminder of all the children whose parents threw their lives away. What had his parents done to lose them? Had they been gamblers too? A prostitute and her john? Preying on the wealthy and stupid was one thing--harming an innocent child was another.
He had caught himself scowling from the alley as he waited for the children to leave. As soon as the nanny (her cousin Elizabeth, he knew) had hold of Ada's hand, he stepped out of the alley. He kept one hand in his jacket pocket and his posture relaxed as he pulled his cigarette from his mouth and blew the smoke toward her.
"Guess you didn't learn that lesson as well as you hoped, Miss Izzy," he teased, face impassive save for the smallest hint of a smirk lingering around his lips. "But at least you have a fan club."
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Post by Isabel Maddox on Jan 5, 2021 5:04:04 GMT
What were the chances indeed?
Luck, or Chance?
Now that it was daytime, Isabel’s bright green eyes were able to take in Mr. Clydes features far more easier then she had the night before. She’d guessed right, he was more rugged than handsome, but what caught her eye, were his eyes. Ice blue contrasted against his pale skin and hair so dark brown, it looked nearly black. She couldn’t forget his voice either. The deep cadence of it. The danger of it.
Her eyes narrowed at him, and she held her basket in front of her with both hands. Had he followed her last night? No, she was sure she hadn’t been followed home. She always wore the disguise, this really had to be luck or chance, or god’s will, or...The Devils work.
She let her gaze give him a once over. Tall, thin, a man that could blend in, and yet he had those dangerous looks. She tilted her head thoughtfully, bringing a finger up to her chin, as she tilted it up a bit in thought. “And what lesson would that be Mr. Clyde?” She asked him curiously. “You caught me doing what? Hanging out with my fan club?” She asked. A small smirk appearing on her face. Thankful the brim of her hat hid part of her face. She hadn’t done anything of the gambling sort since last night, so there would be no way for them to have that little chat he’d warned her about.
The smirk fell as she leveled her eyes at him. With the children gone her more cool, aloof was back as she considered him, and what he might want. “Isabel. You only earn Izzy if by some chance we become family, or you’re under the age of ten.” She remarked, Giving him another look over, the corner of one mouth quirked up. “And since you are neither, Mr. Clyde, just Isabel.” Hell would freeze over if Mr. Clyde ever became family. Unless he was a long lost bastard of either of her parents, or a cousin she didn’t know about. She didn’t dare toss out her last name for fear of what that might lead to later. She didn’t want no trouble, and she certainly didn’t want to get involved with the likes of Clyde. The Maddox's were certainly very well off thanks to being the Mill owners. She didn't want Clyde thinking she owed him favors for letting her go free with the minor burn.
She noted he didn’t have anything with him shopping wise, and could only assume what he was doing out at the shopping district aside from following her around. "Come to watch me haggle the stall owners Mr. Clyde, or just watch me in general?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. Indicating she knew he'd been watching her earlier, even if she hadn't know it was him at the time.
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Post by Mr. Jeckyll on Jan 5, 2021 23:37:47 GMT
Clyde shrugged one shoulder. The lesson was to stay as far away from Clyde Jeckyll as possible--one most gamblers learned without a repeat performance. But she had a point, he supposed. She wasn't in trouble this time. "You said 'if we meet again;' you didn't specify that it had to be for business."
The distance of calling her 'Isabel' instead of 'Izzy' seemed to fit this colder self. Last night, dressed as a man, ready to fight, she'd been as full of fire as he was. This time she was made of ice. Still...he was intrigued. She hadn't tried to run or told him to leave. In fact, she was continuing the conversation.
He clasped his hands behind his back, nodding his head down the street to signal that he'd walk with her. As they walked back toward the nicer part of town, he decided he may as well humor her question.
"If you must know, Miss Isabel, meeting you was only by chance. Or perhaps you might call it luck...? Though whether it is good or bad luck you'll have to decide for yourself." He looked at her sidelong, eyes dancing with laughter for a brief moment.
"But no, I was here on business of my own. One of the other patrons of our fine establishment was behind on a payment. I was visiting to remind him of his responsibility." He clenched his jaw without quite meaning to, and his hands as well. "Merely one responsibility of many that he's been neglecting of late."
He wondered what she'd think of Mr. White if he let her in on the man's secret. Would she fly off to berate the man herself? Settle the debt for him with her own winnings? He had a hunch at least one coin worth of her winnings would be making its way home--the coin given to the child was likely to be claimed by the father. Still, he hadn't gotten violent with the man, only threatened it, this time. He'd had mercy once, he wouldn't do so again.
Why did he want to tell this woman he hadn't harmed the 'victim' of this gambling den? Why in the hell was he trying to gauge what would get her approval? He flooded with disgust. Let her think whatever she liked of him--for all she knew he'd left the man covered in burns. He had done that enough before. He could easily have done today.
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Post by Isabel Maddox on Jan 6, 2021 7:25:20 GMT
Isabel arched an eyebrow at him as he pointed out the lack of specification she presented. “I’m a businesswoman Mr. Clyde, and you’re a businessman, no?” She asked. “Everything is business.” She turned and fell then fell into step beside him. Casually walking as he decided to join her as they walked back up the street. She lifted her basket up into the crook of her arm, watching him out of the corner of her eye for a moment, she glanced ahead of her again.
The corner of one side of her mouth began to curl up as he spoke of luck and chance again. “I’ll have to wait, the jury is still out on that.” She mused. Glancing at him and seeing the small hint of mirth in his eyes before he seemed to go back to being his serious self. Explaining what exactly it was that had called him out here. She’d been right in guessing he worked for the gaming hell as some sort of guard or some sort, and he was only confirming the fact he was a dangerous man not to be messed with if he was taking home visits for his collections. She noticed the way he clenched as he said responsibility. Wondering if there was something else there.
A shiver went down her spine. Any normal woman would have run screaming as soon as she saw him, but Isabel was used to men. She thought she could judge them well too, though Richard proved to her just how bad the eyes could lie when they were blinded by love. “Well, for his sake I hope he gets more responsible.” She said softly before she turned her head to look ahead of them. Her hand tightened around the basket as she proceeded with caution with Mr. Clyde walking beside her. He hadn’t done anything to cause possible harm yet, other than tease her with the fact he could openly smoke his cigarette and she’d be chastised if she dared think it. She didn’t even think he realized he was taunting her.
She let her eyes wander a moment before she drifted towards one of the stalls she usually visited. It had an odd assortment of things. Random things that you might have collected in a junkyard or pawn shop. Isabel always like to see what sort of hidden little treasures you could find within it. “Have you ever looked for buried treasure Mr. Clyde?” She asked as they arrived and offered a slight smile to the stall owner who was busy tinkering with something while while Isabel looked began to look through the items.
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Post by Mr. Jeckyll on Jan 8, 2021 3:00:55 GMT
A businesswoman, hm? He re-evaluated what he knew of her so far. Pants at night, dresses in the day--but not gaudy ones, ones in deep green like forest shadows, and a look on her face as guarded as the castle gates. He got the impression she was equally comfortable in both, but that wasn't particularly comfortable at all. She was defensive in the dark and in the day. He wondered what exactly had put a woman who clearly had the funds to live comfortably in a position where she treated everyone she met as a threat--provided, of course, they were above the age of ten.
He nodded silent agreement when she suggested that Mr. White become more responsible. He'd like that too--in fact, he was trying to encourage it, in his own way.
She drifted aside in her path, apparently distracted by one of the stalls. It was a junk shop, run by a wiry looking man with a large mustache. The man glanced at Clyde, recognition flashed briefly in his eyes, and he immediately returned to what he was tinkering with, although his hands were clumsier than before. Clyde resisted the urge to allow a smug smile across his lips. Apparently, his reputation preceded him in this part of town.
He looked back to Miss Isabel as she questioned him, then turned his attention to a child's doll whose porcelain face bore a spidery crack. He ran his finger under the doll's chin, tilting her painted face to catch the light as he considered his answer.
"I suppose it depends on what you consider treasure, Miss Isabel. Are you looking for monetary value, or sentimental?"
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Post by Isabel Maddox on Jan 8, 2021 7:56:08 GMT
Isabel missed the way the stall owner reacted to seeing Clyde, too busy looking at the little knickknacks with interest. She often looked for toys when she came here. She’d take them, fix them up like new if they were damaged and then give them to the children that worked at the Milk for either Christmas, their birthday or when she felt the need that they needed a small treat. The best way to keep your workers happy? You treated them right. You took care of them, Isabel knew that much.
She turned as Mr. Clyde asked his own question. Seeing he’d found a doll, she walked over beside him. Ignoring that cigarette of his again and tantalizing smell of it. Her green eyes considered the doll for a moment, estimating how long it would take to fix those cracks and if it would be worth it. It was always worth it. “Both.” She said reaching up and plucking the doll up off the shelf and away from him before she turned and placed it in the crook of her arm. Cradling it gently. The monetary value was what she gained my giving it away and earning an even harder worker, while the sentimental value was for her in knowing exactly what the little girl who received it would feel like upon getting a new doll even if it had been used.
“My guess Mr. Clyde,” she drew out in a small sigh as she glanced over some tarnished silver rings, ignoring them for the most part expect for one on the end that had rose engravings on it. She picked it up, examining it, before going so far as to slide it up onto her right ring finger. She held her hand out admired it for a moment before she slipped it off and put it back down. It was dainty little thing that had fit like a glove. She looked over her shoulder at him. “You like monetary.” She said. He seemed the type considering what she could only guess what his profession was, and he didn’t look the sentimental type at all. Still, he could surprise her. She arched an eyebrow at him as she waited to be too she was either right or wrong.
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Post by Mr. Jeckyll on Jan 10, 2021 22:41:05 GMT
Clyde frowned slightly as the woman snatched the doll up out from under his scrutiny and carried it off as if it were a child she was protecting from him. With a roll of his eyes, he followed her toward the other display, one of old jewelry. He hardly looked at any of it--he knew right away all of it was old silver, only worth a few shillings, if that. Instead, an old oil lamp with colorful enamel across the top drew his eye. He blew his breath against it slowly enough to fog it up, then polished it off with his sleeve. The pictures seemed to be some kind of Indian or Oriental lotus whose complicated swirls shone through the dust and grime. He raised an eyebrow and turned to show it to Miss Isabel, but she was clearly occupied with a pretty rose ring that looked quite at home on her dainty hands. She put it back as she accused him of being a skinflint. His blue eyes narrowed. "We live in a world that runs on money. Should I be ashamed that I'm clear-eyed enough to see the reality of things? He pulled a coin from his pocket and tossed it to the shopkeeper, who fumbled to catch it in time without dropping his other work. While the man was distracted, Clyde's hand darted out and took the ring that Isabel had been admiring before, sliding it smoothly back into his pocket, along with his hand that he left there as if he were merely letting it rest. He gestured with the hand that held the lamp as he continued. "Sentimental value is only for people who can afford it. And to be frank, Miss Isabel, I can't afford that kind of bullshit." He shrugged one shoulder. "I've got more pressing things to worry about."He looked away from her again, feeling oddly exposed. He'd hardly said anything revolutionary, or anything too intimate, but... He got the feeling she was going to be making judgments with those cool eyes of hers, and he wasn't in the mood to see or hear it. He lit the lamp with the tip of his finger to distract himself from whatever dirty looks she might be giving.
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Post by Isabel Maddox on Feb 10, 2021 6:12:19 GMT
Isabel tilted her head slightly, watching the man in silent contemplation. She didn’t even blink as he narrowed those eyes at her, and told her what he thought of her assumption. “No,” She began. Watching him pay for a lamp by the looks of things. What could Mr. Clyde want with a lamp? To have a possible genie in it? To have three wishes granted? She looked at it curiously. “It makes you smart.” She mused, turning away from him. Missing the fact he’d pocketed the ring she’d been looking at before.
She smiled at his explanation of sentimental value, though it was more to herself. What did he make of the sentimental value that those had nothing but one sliver from their old lives? A mother’s bracelet, or heirloom. The only thing they had left? Did they not deserve that too? “Mmmm, a lot of things are bullshit Mr. Clyde, and sometimes,” She found an old knight figurine that had certainly seen better days. She used a finger to gently lift the arm that seemed to move. He was missing his sword or spear. “I don’t think it’s about affording it, it’s about wanting it.” She said, removing her eyes from the toy, to glance over her shoulder to see him touching his lamp.
“What kept these object owners from tossing them away? Not their sentimental value, clearly.” She turned to walk down a small shelf in the back of the stall. It was simple. You kept an object because it meant something to you, and you wanted to keep it, or to have it for whatever the reason was. A small bit of bitterness entered Isabel as she thought of wanting something, only to find it wasn’t worth it. She clearly hadn’t been worth it to Richard. “I suppose you do have a point though.” Looking at the clutter, she let her fingers brush over the things she passed. “That sort of thing is for those that can afford the time and prioritize being sentimental.” She paused at a particular shelf. “If you want to talk about what people can afford though, we should speak of feelings.” She said with a wrinkle of her nose. She peered at him through a space in the shelf. “Now that, is bullshit.”
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Post by Mr. Jeckyll on Mar 10, 2021 2:32:18 GMT
Her disgust at the mention of 'feelings' caught his attention, and he looked back to her with a brow raised. Feelings, hm? He understood what she was getting at, or at least he thought he did. But to hear it from a woman of higher status than himself...that was interesting.
"Aye, I suppose you've a point. But I think you're thinking more of 'sentiments and sensibilities' than just plain feelings. I can feel annoyance and anger and pain, and the sweet schadenfreude of watching some bloody moron get what's comin' to him." He grinned, but only for an instant. "Plenty of those things, for any human being who has a heartbeat."
He took a long drag of his cigarette and flicked the ash outside the stall. The fun fell out of his face and his voice as he recalled the way that he and his sister had dragged themselves out of the gutter by clawing their way up the ranks of the gang. Yes, plenty of 'feelings' in that. Just not the pretty kind.
"What we can't afford, though, are the lofty sensibilities that are reserved for high-class noblewomen." He paused and stood a little straighter, affecting a better accent than his usual low-brow drawl. "True love, honor, and charity."
The affectation was dropped just as quickly as it came, and he rolled his eyes. "That is bullshit."
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Post by Isabel Maddox on Mar 10, 2021 3:06:07 GMT
Isabel was finding Mr. Clyde to be more and more interesting with the more time she was spending in his presence. Her jade colored eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she looked at him through that shelf, hearing what he had to say. He was intelligent, and maybe it was her ignorance showing, but she could only assume he was of a lower class. Her upbringing had raised her to think those of the lower class couldn't be smart, or witty. They were to be dumb and stupid who didn't know what they were talking about.
Mr. Clyde was proving her quite wrong, and rather then bristling, she was incredible intrigued. For the first time in a while, Isabel actually wanted to be in a man's presence that wasn't her brothers. She nodded in agreement with him, moving back along the shelf until she came to the end of it. Catching that grin of his made her appreciate his wit all the more. It made him look mischievous almost, or smug. She couldn't decide which.
Lofty sensibilities... Now that was rich. Hearing it was reserved for only high-class noblewomen actually made her laugh. A genuine one that wasn't directed at a child. When was the last time she'd actually laughed like that? Her shoulders shook with the laughter, and her head actually went back to look at the ceiling of the stall, letting a wistful sigh out as she laughter trailed off. She turned her head to look at Mr. Clyde then, all mirth gone from her eyes as there was a cold bitterness that had settled in her green depths.
"True love, honor, and charity are reserved for the dumbass's that believe it exists in the first place. The bullshit, is anyone who thinks they exist. Because they don't." She paused for a moment, considering him before she straightened. "For everyone. Not only for high-class noblewomen, Mr. Clyde." She was being cynicle, but life wasn't sunshine and rainbows for the rich either. Take the mill, and the man she thought she'd loved for prime example.
Isabel moved towards the stall owner then, paying him for the doll and putting it in her basket before she waited at the entrance, raising a brow at Mr. Clyde.
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Post by Mr. Jeckyll on May 8, 2021 0:50:39 GMT
Now that was interesting. This lady might be even more cynical than him, and that was a fucking challenge, right there. He hadn't thought it possible. Not after the way and his sister had grown up.
He watched her with curiosity as she went and paid for her doll, waiting to continue the conversation until they were free. He motioned for her to walk ahead of him out of the little tent, and continued to stroll calmly alongside her as if he belonged there.
"You don't think you could invent some pretty new emotions, given enough money and leisure, Miss Isabel? They've got to have something to make them feel like they're better than us heathens, after all. So they worry about their manners, and their honor, and doing pretty little acts of charity that don't actually help anyone. Their 'good Christian charity' is often just an excuse to stick their noses into the business of people 'round here and tell them how to live their lives. As if a bible and a fruit basket is goin' to help some poor beggar quit drink, or get a lady of the night off the street." He sighed and shook his head.
"There's always more to people's story. Still, not all acts of kindness are bad, I s'pose."
He pulled the ring from his pocket, now that they were far enough away, and casually offered it to her. "Some are just to see the look on someone's face."
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Post by Isabel Maddox on May 23, 2021 7:15:25 GMT
Mr. Clyde was quickly proving to be a presence that Isabel wasn’t quite sure what to make of. The man was a criminal, or at least one that gave off a dangerous aura. She’d seen it first hand in the alley when he thought she was cheating, and had tried to catch her. Despite this, she found his presence welcoming. Something that might have had her brothers paying closer attention too, if they actually paid attention to the way Isabel behaved around other men. Richard Faarquad being one…
She fell into step easily with Mr. Clyde as they continued on their way, setting the doll safely in her basket among the other things she’d gotten. Her green eyes flickered up to look at him as he continued their conversation. Studying the way he spoke, and watched things. Oh yes, definitely a man that watched people she assumed. How else had he managed to not only find her that day, but pick her out in a busy club that she might have been cheating his players.
He’s a sharp one Is, remember that. She warned herself.
A bitter smile appeared on her face, and she gave a slight shake of her head. “Some higher society women, but not I.” She said, glancing away as she let her eyes wander over the passing stalls. “Money and leisure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Mr. Clyde. At least in my experience.” There she went being all cynical again… But if money and leisure were all you needed, then her mother wouldn’t have taken her own life now would she?
An amused smile appeared as he continued. Nic would certainly have words to say about good Christian charity considering his position at the church, and she felt her brother really was trying to do good. He wanted to help people of all class. The church wasn’t supposed to play favorites. They were all gods children were they not? And yet if that was the case, then how could god let what happened to Izzy go by unpunished? What about the other women that had far worse? The poor children? Did they deserve not better?
She ground her teeth at the thought. Knowing what had happened with Richard had put a large dent in her relationship with the man upstairs, and that things had become slightly tense with Nicodramas as she didn’t go to church on Sundays as much as she used too. “You should discuss with my brother about that way of thinking.” She mused with a small smile. “Something tells me I’d enjoy the discussion.” She said. Wondering how the difference of views would go.
“I think there’s corrupt people in all classes of society just as there are good ones. The real question is finding out who's what.” She trailed off, noticing he was pulling something out of his pocket. She thought it might have been the lamp, but instead her eyes caught that flash of silver and saw a ring with the rose she admired earlier. She stared at it for a moment as he offered it to her. For a moment she was confused, but her face didn’t show it. She raised a brow, and rather than doing what any good “christian woman” would have done, which was take it right back and apologize profusely, Isabel took the offered ring.
She stopped walking, placing the basket in a crook of her arm, before she slipped the piece of simple jewelry up onto her finger. Holding her hand out to admire it just as she had in the shop. Now, she was curious. What had possessed him to do that? Clearly he’d been watching her enough to know she might have liked it. Which she did. But what was his motive? Why do the small act of kindness for her?
“And what if they have a good poker face? Are you content with the look on mine?” She asked curiously, lowering her hand. Making no move to remove it, as her eyes met his and she started to walk again. Or my face in general? She wanted to ask but stilled her tongue. Her thumb curled up into her palm, reaching up to subtly rub the silver ring with her thumb.
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Post by Mr. Jeckyll on May 23, 2021 19:52:43 GMT
Clyde smirked at her suggestion that he debate her brother. He was sure it would be interesting, though he knew nothing about the man. Perhaps he'd have to find out. She was certainly proving to be a most interesting companion, he had no doubt her family would be the same.
She merely raised her eyebrow at the ring, but she didn't scold him or demand he take it back to the seller. Instead, she accepted it and slid it onto her finger. Clyde couldn't restrain a fleeting grin. She held her expression as severe as ever, but she wasn't protesting or pushing him away. He'd take that as a positive reaction.
“And what if they have a good poker face? Are you content with the look on mine?”
Clyde shrugged one shoulder and tried to smother another grin. It was like a match of tennis between the two of them, whipping the conversation back and forth, trying to make the other falter and miss. He was enjoying himself. "I already knew you had a good poker face, Miss. It wasn't your expressions that gave you away, back at the club." He glanced sidelong at her, catching the way she toyed with the ring on her finger. "A good poker player knows how to hold his face. A great one knows how to look for his opponent's tell."
Apparently, Miss Isabel's habits gave away far more than her lips or eyes, pretty though they may be. It was still odd to see her this way, looking so prim and severe, after their rough and tumble beginning. Neither getup seemed to make her particularly comfortable, and it made him wonder where she actually would be at ease. He doubted it would be a party, and definitely not the church.
At home, perhaps, with no one to bother her? A book in one hand and tea in the other? Or perhaps at a half-decent club, gambling with someone who gave her a real challenge. Someone like you? chimed a snide voice in his head. And what if it was? he argued with himself. No harm in a few hands of cards. It's not often I make a friend.
That would take a bit more contemplation before he was ready to make a move like that. For now, he was happy to observe. Better to know what he was getting into before he went forming any social attachments.
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Post by Isabel Maddox on May 24, 2021 15:51:49 GMT
Isabel would never admit that she was actually enjoying herself as well. This was a different Saturday to her usual routine, and some might not like the interruption or change of plans, but Isabel liked this interruption, and the change of pace of conversation.
She glanced at him as he said it hadn’t been her face, but the fact she’d kept winning her hands. Something she was going to have to be careful with from now on, and actually lose. A lesson she’d learned. She canted her head slightly then, eyes narrowing as she glanced at Mr. Clyde. “Alright, Mr. Great Poker player, what’s my tell then?” She asked curiously. Clearly he’d been watching her play enough to possibly pick one up, and she was curious to know what she did.
Maybe she could be aware of it and throw him off later. “You seem to be a watching me a great deal Mr. Clyde. What’s a lady to think about that?” She asked. For a moment a bit of mirth entered those green hues, as the small smirk flickered across her face. “You were watching me with the children longer than you led me to believe weren’t you?” She asked him. She’d had that sense that she was being watched while she’d shopped with her fan club, and a small voice in her mind told her it had been him.
Rather than feel creeped out like she would with catching Richard watching her, Clyde's gaze was another thing all together. One she wasn’t sure how to explain, but uncomfortable wasn’t it.
He’d waited until the fan club was gone before showing himself, and wondered why, other than maybe adult conversation away from little ears. There was a challenging look on her face as she turned her head to look at him, daring him to deny it.
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