Timeless by Gail Carriger

flawlessly as Biffy. A murmur of suspicious talk circulated as they made their way to the bar.
    The barmaid remembered Biffy. Most women of her class did. Biffy was a good tipper and he never groped or expected anything. Plus he dressed so well he tended to make a favorable impression on females of the species.
    “Well there’s my fine young gentleman, and ain’t it been an age since I clapped eyes on you last?”
    “Nettie, my dove”—Biffy put on his most extravagant mannerisms—“how are you this
delightful
evening?”
    “Couldn’t be better, ducky. Couldn’t be better. What can I get you boys?”
    “Two whiskeys, please, my darling, and a little of your company if you have a mind.”
    “Make that three and I’ll sit on your knee while we drink ’em.”
    “Done!” Biffy slapped down the requisite coin, plus agenerous gratuity, and he and Lyall made their way over to a small side table near the fire.
    Nettie hollered back for a replacement barmaid, then joined them, carrying the three whiskeys, sloshed into tumblers. She settled herself, as threatened, on Biffy’s knee, sipping her drink and twinkling hopefully at both men. She was a buxom thing, perhaps more round than Lyall favored, if Biffy was any judge of the man’s taste, but of very pleasant disposition and inclined to chatter once steered in the correct direction. Her hair was so blond and fine as to be almost white, as were her eyebrows, giving her an expression of uninterrupted wonder that some might have taken for stupidity. Biffy had yet to determine whether this was actually the case.
    “So, how’s the pub fared since I visited last, Nettie my dove?”
    “Oh, well, let me just tell you, love. Old Mr. Yonlenker—you remember, the bootblack down the block?—tried to clean his own chimney just last week, got himself wedged right proper for two days. They had to use lard to get him out. And then…” Nettie chattered on about all the various regulars round the neighborhood for a good twenty minutes. Biffy let the wave of gossip wash over him. Professor Lyall paid dutiful attention and Biffy asked enough questions to keep her going.
    Finally he prodded gently, “I hear there was a bit of a flutter at the station the other night.”
    Nettie fell obligingly into the trap. “Oh, wasn’t there ever? Gunshots! Young Johnny Gawkins round Mincing Lane said he’s sure he saw a man taking off by private dirigible! Round these parts, can you imagine? And then of course there was the fire, same night. Can’t say ashow the two are linked, but I ain’t saying they’re not, neither.”
    Biffy blinked, confounded for a moment. “Young Johnny say anything about the man’s looks?”
    “Gentlemanly, think he said. Though nothing up to your standards, of course, me young buck. You sure ain’t half curious about it, aren’t ya?”
    “Oh, you know me, Nettie, terrible one for scandal-mongering. Tell me, has Angie Pennyworth had her baby yet?”
    “Not as how! Twins I tell you! And her without two pennies to rub together, and no da never did come forward. Crying shame, that’s what I say. Though of a certainty an’ we’re all thinking it’s
you know who
.” The barmaid gestured with her pale head at a skinny lad lurking in the far corner, nursing a pint.
    “Not Alec Weebs? Never!” Biffy was appreciatively shocked.
    “Oh, believe it.” Nettie settled herself in for another round.
    Biffy gestured at the replacement barmaid for more whiskey.
    Professor Lyall nodded at Biffy imperceptibly in approval. A gentleman in a private dirigible wasn’t much to go on since the recent upsurge in dirigible popularity, but it was better than nothing. And at least there were records of dirigible sales. That narrowed their suspect list.

CHAPTER SIX

     

In Which the Parasol Protectorate Acquires a New Member
     
    L ord Akeldama was back from his walk, Prudence was down for her nap, and Tizzy and the nursemaid were relieved of their duties for the moment.