Free Pentecost Alley by Anne Perry

would be able to help. She is a delightful creature, and most kind.”
    “She is a flighty young woman with whom I should rather you did not associate,” Mr. Alcott said suddenly. “You are too generous in your opinions, my dear.”
    “You should listen a little more to what people say,” Mrs. Alcott added. “Then you would know that her reputation is becoming less attractive as she grows older and does not marry. I am sure she must have had offers.” She made a delicate gesture with one gloved hand. “Her father has money, her mother has breeding, and the girl herself is certainly handsome enough, in her way. If she does not marry soon, people will begin to speculate as to why not.”
    “I agree,” Helliwell said hastily. “Far better you are no more than civil to her, if you should happen to meet, which is unlikely. She moves with a set you would have nothing to do with. I think ‘flighty’ is a very kind word, Mama-in-law. I should have chosen one less flattering.”His tone was final. He turned to Pitt. “Delightful to have met you, sir.” He swung up into the carriage and closed the door. “Good day to you.” And he signaled the driver to proceed, leaving Pitt standing on the footpath in the sun.
    Superficially, Mortimer Thirlstone was a vastly different man. He was tall and lean and affected a manner and dress of an artist. His long hair was parted in the center. He wore a soft silk shirt and widely flowing cravat tied meticulously, and a casual jacket. But he had the same easy air of confidence as Helliwell, as if he knew he looked well and was perfectly comfortable that his appearance would continue to earn him the courtesy to which he was accustomed.
    He stood in the center of the pathway that wound gently through Regents Park towards the Botanical Gardens. He stared upwards into the hazy sunshine with a smile on his face. It had taken Pitt since mid-morning to find him, and only by dint of persistent enquiry had he succeeded.
    “Mr. Thirlstone?” he enquired, although he was already certain of his identity.
    “Indeed, sir,” Thirlstone answered without lowering his gaze. “Is it not a magnificent afternoon? Can you smell the myriad aromas of the flowers, indigenous and exotic, which lie just beyond our gaze? What a marvelous thing is nature. We appreciate it far too little. She has given us senses, and what do we do? Largely ignore them, sir, largely ignore them. What can I do for you, apart from bringing you to mind of your olfactory perceptions?”
    “Some years ago I believe you used to belong to an organization known as the Hellfire Club …” Pitt began.
    “Organization.” Thirlstone lowered his head, then looked at Pitt with amusement. “Hardly, sir. Organized it never was! I abhor organization. It is the antithesis of pleasure and creativity. It is man’s puny attempt to layhis mark on a universe he cannot begin to comprehend. It is pathetic.” A bumblebee meandered lazily by. He watched it with delight. “Nature organizes,” he continued. “We merely watch in profound ignorance, and usually fear. Awe, sir, that is proper. Fear is stultifying. The difference is the span of all pure feeling. What about it?”
    Pitt was lost.
    “The Hellfire Club, sir!” Thirlstone explained. “What about it? Folly of youth. Personally, I have moved on, woken to the better pursuits of life. Did you want to join?” He shrugged, his face lifted again to the sun. “I cannot help you. Start one of your own. Don’t wait for others. Begin anew! Try some of the gambling clubs, horse races, music halls, houses of ill repute and so on. You’ll find like-minded men. Pick and choose as you will.”
    “That was the sort of place you frequented?” Pitt tried very hard to make his voice sound interested and yet not naive. He knew he failed. It was an impossible task.
    Thirlstone lowered his gaze and stared at him as if he were some rare plant he had just observed.
    “What else would you expect, sir?