Chapter Two #2
“After that, there was a loud crash, and the house caught on fire. Uncle Sol came to fetch me and told me to stay put, near a trough. It was very cold,” his daughter added, rubbing her little arms.
After counting to ten twice in his head, Roger turned back to his friend. “Sol?”
This time the other man removed his hat before bending his neck for a moment. “That’s more or less a decent summation of this afternoon and early evening’s events, though some might quibble with a few of the details.”
“Quibble?” he repeated, halting his glare at the oddly serious and resolute look in the younger man’s eyes. Roger resisted a sigh before turning back to his daughter. “Fannie, why don’t you wash up for your meal as well?”
And, like her brother before her, his daughter happily skipped down the hall, leaving them alone. He returned his attention to his friend. “Explain, now,” he commanded.
The man took a deep breath. “Fannie caused an explosion in the Adler house.”
Of all the words that could’ve sprung from his friend’s mouth, those were not the ones Roger had remotely imagined.
“Pardon?” he asked, as his mind stuttered over the word “explosion.” And the name “Adler.” A wave of dread washed over Roger.
“From what I’ve gathered, after she snuck in through a window, she spent some time in the workroom,” his friend explained, now gesturing with his hands rather rapidly.
“The Adler women are midwives who render their own supplies. They—well, Miss Adler primarily—creates various tonics and devices for the practice, so the room contained a decent amount of chemicals—”
“Which were clearly stored improperly,” Roger retorted, now beginning to picture the scene. And the players. Really, one of the players. He’d made the mistake of—for lack of a better word—fucking Miss Adler seven months ago. The night of his brother Louis’s exile.
He’d not been himself, filled with regret, as well as the fear he was not and never would be quite what he should.
It had been a hot and angry joinder, the kind that could only be accomplished by two people who absolutely despised each other.
Thus, naturally, the best sexual intercourse of his life.
Fortunately, except for that singular lapse in judgment, he’d always been able to transcend his baser inclinations and would continue to do so. Because it could not, under any circumstances, be repeated.
While their law did not require marriage after such an act between two unattached people, if certain members of the community learned of the incident, there’d be pressure for them to bind themselves all the same.
Which would be a disaster. Yes, Miss Adler had proclaimed such would be an inconvenience for her and her profession, but it would be a catastrophe for him and his children.
Apart from their business partners—and, there only out of obligation—no one on his side of the community invited Miss Adler anywhere.
Rumor had it that her own also avoided her whenever possible due to both her sour disposition and unremarkable features that she made no attempt to ameliorate through decent dress or enhancements like anyone with common sense did.
Not to mention, permitting her anywhere near the ton… He shuddered at the concept. She’d probably use the wrong fork while correcting the host’s grammar, then conclude with a lecture on the wrongness of their political opinions. Thus, she was the last woman to whom he should be connected.
“Not based on my information,” Sol said, interrupting his thoughts. Roger frowned—was his friend actually suggesting Fannie could be at fault? She was a child.
Though it’d be just like Miss Adler, blaming his daughter for a problem of her own making.
“That remains to be seen,” Roger said, before catching at his friend’s worried expression. “What?”
“The consensus is that the primary fault lies with Fannie,” Sol said, his eyes serious.
“Whose consensus?” he asked, even if he could guess, given the location of the house and the synagogue his friend attended.
The Ashkenazis. The newer, coarser, troublesome additions to their community, who brought with them a host of provincial customs, unbecoming habits, and discordant language, not to mention inferior scholarship.
“Strauss and Friedland, among others,” Sol affirmed.
Roger stifled a groan. The worst of the lot. Or close to it. Two of the newer members of the Commission of Delegates. Neither of whom deserved their seats. Neither of whom cared for him.
While some Ashkenazis, like Sol, had decent sense, far too many, Strauss and Friedland, chief among them, were arrogant arrivistes who believed a few lucky advances in business, and more freedoms than they’d dare to dream of in the hovels from whence they came, gave them the ability to navigate British society without properly learning its customs and, more, their vulnerabilities.
Ingrates, all of them.
“Strauss and Ricardo have recently become friendly,” his friend added, breaking his thoughts once more.
Ricardo? Roger grimaced. The man hated his family ever since his daughter—like more than a few others in the community—developed an unhealthy infatuation with Louis.
God only knows why. His older sister, Maria, theorized that certain women had a mania for brooding men who might turn their passion to them alone.
Fortunately for them, considering who his brother was, except for their business partner’s daughter back in June, the man never showed interest in anything or anyone beyond his own obsessions. Though even that pursuit lacked a romantic je ne sais quoi.
But Ricardo, instead of being relieved, took matters personally and had developed a near vendetta.
Blasted Louis.
“Fine.” Roger took several deep breaths to calm his temper.
What was done was done, and right or wrong, he now apparently needed to mend matters.
“Fine,” he repeated, his mind settling on the proper courses of action.
“I’ll send the funds to replace and repair whatever was damaged.
” Make the Adler family whole, as was proper under Jewish law.
Not a hardship given his family’s fortune. Though really, how expensive could it be to repair a little charring or replace a few bits of furniture? What could a decent chair cost these days, anyway? Two pounds? Three?
Yes, matters should be easily resolved. Though, as his older brother’s employee, Sol had more experience in such matters. “How long will that take? A week or so?”
“I’ve heard six given the weather and the fact that half the roof and the entire center staircase require replacement, but you’ll have to discuss that with whatever foreman you hire.” Sol shrugged.
Roger boggled at the suggestion that he become so involved. “Wouldn’t providing the funds and permitting the Adlers to do as they pleased suffice?”
“It’s a large job,” Sol returned. There was a pause, as if he was choosing his words very carefully.
“And while it would be possible for the Adler women to handle their affairs on their own… matters would go a great deal faster if someone with certain connections was able to assure the job ran smoothly.”
“Perhaps,” Roger conceded. “Though perhaps not, as often when someone with my rumored funds is involved, invoices have a funny way of being padded. With delays to justify the same.” Which would make his involvement a net negative for all.