Chapter 10
The much-admired gunmaker’s shop was on Davies Street, just a stone’s throw from Berkeley Square. A brass bell gave a sonorous ring as Wrexford—with Eddy and Raven right at his heels—clicked the latch and pushed open the dark mahogany front door.
“Milord!” A man of middling height with the callused hands of a craftsman turned from arranging several inlaid rosewood boxes on one of the displays. “I’m so sorry, but Uncle Durs is away visiting a sick relative and won’t be returning for at least another fortnight.”
“No need for apologies, Mr. Egg,” responded the earl to his friend’s nephew, who was an acclaimed, skilled gunsmith in his own right. “I’ve actually come to see you.” A pause. “Things have been rather peaceful of late …”
An exaggeration, perhaps, but the remark brought a wry smile to Joseph Egg’s leathery face. “Peace is to be welcomed, of course. But alas, it’s not overly good for business.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” replied the earl. “Human nature is such that mankind never seems to tire of picking lethal fights with each other.”
Aware that the presence of Eddy and Raven—who were behaving with remarkable restraint by standing quietly in his shadow despite the glittering array of firearms on display—was piquing the gunmaker’s curiosity, Wrexford shifted his stance.
“On a more positive note, allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Eddylina, and my eldest ward, Master Thomas Raven-wood Sloane.”
Egg inclined a courtly bow. “It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, milady and Master Sloane.”
“They are both keen on learning the art of marksmanship, and as I’m of the opinion that it’s an excellent skill for both men and women to possess, I see no reason why they shouldn’t begin to learn now,” continued Wrexford.
“So I wish to commission a pair of your special designs for them—the ones that have become known as Baby Eggs.”
Joseph Egg’s expertise was in crafting beautiful but deadly over-and-under double-barreled pocket pistols capable of firing two shots in succession due to the innovative spring and trigger mechanisms.
“It would be my honor, milord.” Peering at Eddy and Raven over the top of his spectacles, the gunmaker fixed them with a solemn stare. “It is a great responsibility to be trusted with a lethal weapon, but it appears that His Lordship considers the two of you mature enough to understand that.”
They both were quick to reply with equally solemn nods.
Wrexford’s eye had been caught by a pair of dueling pistols on display in the main case of the showroom.
“Your workshop’s pistols are always technically impressive, and beautiful to the eye …
” He leaned in for a closer look at the detailed decorative engraving on the silver butt cap.
“But this is particularly exquisite workmanship.”
“Yes, well …” A smile. “Joe Manton is beginning to add decorative touches to his weapons—I am the first to admit that they are superb—so Durs and I set out to find a talented engraver to make our pistols even more beautiful.”
“You appear to have succeeded.”
Eddy edged up to the case and let out an admiring gasp. “Hawks! What magnificent birds!” she exclaimed, pressing her nose to the glass as she studied the intricate images decorating the lock and hammer plate.
“My sister is very fond of birds,” murmured the earl.
“Excellent! My new engraver is very skilled in drawing all manner of winged creatures, milady,” said Egg. “You may choose any bird, real or mythical, that captures your fancy for the decorative detailing on your new firearm.”
“Really?” Her eyes flared wide in delight. “In that case, may I have a merlin hawk?”
“Absolutely!” He looked at Raven. “And you, Master Sloane? What embellishments would you like?”
“Oh, there’s no question—you must choose a raven, of course,” interjected Eddy.
Raven hesitated, his gaze on the pistol featuring a dragon breathing fire. “May I think about it for a bit, sir?”
“Indeed, you may.” To the earl, Egg added, “Most lads his age tend to be impetuous, but Master Sloane seems a very steady and thoughtful young fellow.”
Wrexford repressed a sardonic snort.
The gunmaker moved to a set of cabinets beneath the reception counter. “Let us begin by looking at some different models and sizes. And then I shall need to take some measurements.”
After placing several boxes atop the dark-grained oak, he added a tape measure and a notebook to the pile and then gestured for Eddy and Raven to step forward. “You first, milady. Please allow me to trace an outline of your shooting hand …”
Once the technicalities were completed, Egg gestured for the earl to follow him into his office.
“While the young people look around at the display cases to see what embellishments are available, allow me to show you some of my new hexagonal barrel designs, sir, and discuss the appropriate weighing and trigger tension for the young people …”
Eddy was immediately drawn to a case displaying more examples of sterling silver caps for the butt of a pistol, along with several pen and ink drawings of fanciful beasts and birds that could be engraved upon them.
But instead of joining her, Raven drifted away to the far end of the showroom to examine the different types of molds used to cast bullets.
On hearing the sound of hammering coming from one of the small workrooms located along a corridor leading to the back of the building, he ventured into the shadowed passageway, curious to see how a pistol was put together.
However, after another step, he hesitated, not wishing Egg to deem him “impetuous” for venturing into the area without permission.
Raven was about to turn when he heard an agitated whisper, sharp with worry, from the half-open door nearest to him.
“I told you never to visit me here. Egg must not suspect—”
“But what are we going to do about the discovery?” interrupted a second voice, pitched lower and rougher than the first one. “If—”
“Shhh! Not now. We’ll meet tonight at …” Agitated Whisper lowered his voice a notch and Raven couldn’t hear the rest of his response.
A shuffling sound from inside one of the other workrooms alerted Raven that at any moment, he might be discovered in the corridor.
He quickly retreated to the main showroom and slipped into an alcove with a display of ornate wood pistol cases, relieved that Eddy hadn’t noticed his absence.
“Excellent, excellent—we now have all the details in place!” Egg’s jovial announcement floated into the room a moment before the gunmaker himself reappeared, followed by the earl.
“Wrex, you must come have a look,” called Eddy. “The drawings in this case are quite marvelous! Hawk and Charlotte must see them.”
“My wife is a very fine artist,” explained Wrexford. “And our youngest ward is quite talented as well.”
“I am no expert on art,” replied Egg as Wrexford joined Eddy to view the display. “But to my eye, Jack—the young man I recently hired—is quite gifted with both a pen and an engraving burin.”
“Indeed, they are quite striking,” murmured the earl.
“Come, allow me to introduce him to you.” Egg waved for them to follow him into the corridor that Raven had just left and escorted them into one of the side rooms.
A young man—he had removed his jacket and had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows—was so engrossed in his artwork that he hadn’t yet realized he was no longer alone.
On the wall in front of him was a large cork board with a profusion of fanciful sketches depicting birds, mythical beasts, and botanical motifs pinned to its surface.
Eddy held her breath until he paused and lifted his pen from the paper before exhaling a sigh of wonder. “Lud, these drawings are remarkable.”
Startled, the young man sat back with a grunt of surprise.
“Forgive us for intruding,” said Wrexford. “We were admiring your artistry in the main room and—”
“And seeing as the Earl of Wrexford has just commissioned two custom-made pistols for his family members—to be embellished with your art—I wished for them to meet you.”
“T-Thank you, milord,” stammered the young man.
“Milord, allow me to introduce Jack MacArthur to you, and your sister and Master Sloane.”
MacArthur managed another barely audible acknowledgment to the trio of smiles that greeted him.
Wrexford noticed that Raven was staring at the fellow with a strange look … which perhaps had something to do with the wide-eyed expression of awe on Eddy’s face.
The earl looked back to the artist engraver, hoping it had merely been a quirk of the light and shadow. “My wife and my youngest ward are very interested in art—especially botanical art—Mr. MacArthur. I’m sure they would very much appreciate your work.”
“Please tell them to stop by anytime,” urged Egg.
A frisson of unease seemed to ripple in Jack’s eyes. But he merely mumbled a polite platitude.
“As I mentioned earlier, Jack is prodigiously talented,” said Egg.
“Not only is he a dab hand at drawing, but he was apprenticed to a silversmith as a boy and learned the art of engraving.” A grin.
“But luckily for me, he decided to come to London in order to seek his fortune, and a colleague of his former employer suggested that he inquire here about a job.”
Jack bobbed his head in acknowledgment of the compliment, but his grip appeared to tighten on his pen.
Rubbing shoulders with the so-called Polite Society— especially those gentlemen and ladies who possessed titles— often intimidated the working classes, reflected Wrexford.
“It is I who am the lucky one, Mr. Egg, as you were kind enough to take a chance on a mere nobody,” replied Jack after a quick swallow. “I’m aware that I have a very desirable job, while so many returning soldiers are struggling to survive.”
A young man with a sensitive soul—as well as a conscience? Wrexford found himself musing on how much Charlotte would enjoy meeting the young man …