Not the One

Not the One, Part Three

Noteo tho the Victorians there was a great difference between a 'woman' and a 'lady'. Les huîtres sont très efficaces--The oysters are very potent. Je n'ai pas besoin d'aide dans ce secteur--I do not need help in that sector. Vous êtes trop familier--You are too familiar. potage clair--clear soup (consommé), Truite d'amande--almond trout, médaillons de veau--medallions of veal, gâteau de chocolat--chocolate cakeNot the One by ScribePart ThreeIntroductionJonathan stared at the menu, forehead crinkling. Jamey said, "Come now, Harker, don't tell me that you can't read it?"

Jonathan felt himself flush. "I only took one semester of French."

"What? But you had to have a language other than Latin."

"I studied Hungarian with Mister Lugolas."

Jamey blinked. "What on earth for?"

Jonathan shrugged. "It was the only Romanic language being offered." Jamey gave him a disbelieving look, and Jonathan explained, "Every other man entering the business world will know French." He smiled. "How many will know Hungarian?"

Jamey blinked in surprise. "That's very clever of you, Harker! Bravo. Now then, shall I order for you?" He started pointing out different items on the menu, and Jonathan became absorbed in it. He'd never gone hungry, but the food had always been plain. The menu offered exotic and elegant items that he had heard of, but never tasted.

The waiter gave Jonathan a glance, then leaned toward Jamey and murmured. "Les huîtres sont très efficaces."

Jamey arched an eyebrow. "Je n'ai pas besoin d'aide dans ce secteur. Vous êtes trop familier." The waiter bowed apologetically. Jamey looked at Jonathan, watching as he thoughtfully bit his bottom lip, studying the menu. He shook his head minutely, smiling to himself, and said, "How about a half-dozen oysters as a starter?"

Jonathan made a face. "The vicar had them once on his birthday. Then entire household was ill for two days."

"That is because they were carted off into the hinterlands, and sat in a barrel God knows how long before they reached your table. Here, you get them with the kiss of the sea still fresh upon them. They oysters," he told the waiter. "You needn't have any if you don't want, Harker, but I am certainly not going to pass up such a delicacy. We'll get a bit of caviar, too, I think. Then potage clair, truite d'amande and médaillons de veau, and we'll let them decide on the sides, eh?"

"Well, I know that potage is soup and truite is trout, so it sounds good." He fidgeted a bit as Jamey returned the menu, and finally said, "Will we be having sweets?"

Jamey regarded him with amusement. "We certainly will, if you want it, but let's wait a bit. Now, as to the wine." He looked at the waiter. "I'll trust you on this--just don't try to foist on us some over-priced swill with a better reputation than taste."

As the waiter left, Jonathan murmured, "Really, water will do me very well, or perhaps milk..."

"Milk?" Jamey sounded horrified. "Good God, Harker, it is my sacred duty to drag you into civilization. You can have your water, but I expect you to take at least a few sips of the wine. You have to start somewhere."

When the starters arrived, Jamey instructed Jonathan on how to eat the caviar, spreading it on toast and sprinkling it with a bit of minced onion and flaked egg yolk. He watched in amusement as Jonathan munched thoughtfully. "Well?"

"It's a little odd, but nice," Jonathan concluded. He watched as Jonathan lifted one of the oyster shells, squeezed a lemon wedge over it, and tipped the contents into his mouth. Jonathan winced. "I don't see how you can do that. It looks alive. ."

"There's something to be said for that." He offered one. "Try it." Jonathan sat back a little, eyeing the oyster suspiciously. "Come on. You never know--you might like it."

"I don't know."

Jamey wiggled it enticingly. "Try one, or no sweets."

Jonathan blinked. "I think that's blackmail."

"Haven't you noticed, Harker? I'm a wicked man, willing to do anything necessary to get my way. Come on, now--just one. You might even enjoy it."
Jonathan accepted the shell, holding it gingerly. Jamey quickly squeezed a lemon wedge over it.

"I don't chew it?" Jonathan asked.

"No, you do not bite," Jamey advised. "Just hold your breath and let it slide straight down your throat." Jonathan took a breath, closed his eyes, and brought the shell to his lips. Jamey watched with a small smile as the other boy tipped his head back and slid the pearly, quivering oyster into his mouth and gulped. "Well?"

Jonathan licked his lips, brows drawn together. "Odd, but not nasty, like I thought. It tastes rather salty."

"Do you think that you could learn to like it?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I don't know. It isn't as if I'll have the opportunity to develop a taste for them."

Jamey patted his hand. "I promise you that I can provide all you desire."

They finished, with Jonathan happily making his way through a large slice of gâteau de chocolat. He'd drunk about a half glass of each type of wine. He stood up very carefully after Jamey had signed the check. "I believe I would have actually gotten tipsy if I had drunk much more," he observed.

On the way out, Jamey threw his arm around the other boy's shoulders. "But you needn't worry about that, Harker. After all, you're with a friend. I'll look after you. Now, then, we'll finish the night off with a trip to a little place I think you'll like."

Jonathan felt a little uneasy. "It's not a public house, is it? If my father found out I'd been in a tavern."

"No, it's a private club, only members and guests. I'm a legacy, from my uncle, and you're my guest." There was a hansom waiting for them, and Jamey beckoned the driver to lean down, murmuring the destination to him.

The driver's eyebrows went up as he looked at the two young men. "Yer sure about that, guv?"

Jamey rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Mm. Front entrance, or back?"

"Front," said Jamey coldly.

The cabbie shrugged. "No offense meant, guv. It's just that yer both look a bit young ta be members o' that place. I usually takes tha 'guests' round ta tha back."

As they climbed in Jonathan said, "I'm a guest."

"Not the sort of guest he means, Harker." This puzzled Jonathan, but he didn't ask for an explanation.

The drive was not long. They alighted before another large house, one that was well lighted. Jonathan noticed several elegant carriages parked on either side of the street, the drivers clustered under a gas streetlamp, talking. They quieted and watched the two young men walking up to the front door, then again began talking animatedly.

A man dressed in dramatic livery, black and scarlet, answered the door. He eyed them closely, frowning. "Are you trying to ruin us? Go to the back."

He started the close the door, and Jamey caught it, saying sharply, "You had better be more sure of your judgment." The man paused, taking a closer look at Jamey. His expression became doubtful. Jamey took out a card case, flipping through the cards, selected one, and passed it over.

The man handed it back, bowing deeply, "I am sorry, Mister Roswell. It's been a good while since you last visited us." He looked at Jonathan, saying, "I apologize for misjudging you, sir."

They entered. Jonathan heard the murmur of many quiet conversations coming from different rooms. There was also music--piano and violin, and someone was singing.

"Let's go into the main salon--you don't need to go to the gaming rooms." As he steered Jonathan into a large room just off the main hallway he said, "Oh, and Jonathan? You're not to go upstairs, no matter how anyone coaxes you, do you understand?"

"Certainly," Jonathan knew that certain areas of all clubs were off-limits to non-members.

"Good. You're not ready for the upstairs."

The room was very large, almost the size of a small ballroom. There were fireplaces on two sides, and a large mahogany bar across the back of the room. There were a scattering of footmen in the club's livery, all watching the club members and guests with eagle eyes--ready to leap into action to fetch a drink, light a cigar, or run an errand.

Most of the other occupants of the room wore either evening dress or good suits, though Jonathan was surprised to see a few men dressed in flashy, cheap clothes. These seemed to be the youngest men, most of them probably even younger than Jonathan. They were all exceptionally handsome, Jonathan thought absently, and they were invariably surrounded by several older, attentive gentlemen.

What really surprised Jonathan, though, was that there were several ladies present. Or perhaps, judging from the vibrancy of their dress, he should say 'women'.

"There's a seat," said Jamey, steering Jonathan toward it. Jonathan sat, and Jamey called a footman over. "Bring him a brandy." When Jonathan started to protest Jamey said, "Don't be silly--do you want to look completely out of place? Just hold it if you don't want to drink it. I see a friend of my uncle's over there. Just sit tight, and I'll be back soon."

The footman brought the drink and Jonathan sat holding it, looking about, wide-eyed. Some of his classmates were well to do, but Jonathan had never been in the presence of so many of the upper class.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" The voice was warm and husky. Jonathan looked up to find a woman standing before him. She was tall and slender, and she wore a gown of jonquil yellow trimmed with bright green. Her hair was a bright copper that Jonathan found a bit doubtful. If it hadn't been for her dress or her obviously false hair color, Jonathan would still have known she wasn't quite respectable, because her face was painted. Her skin was powdered white, save for the bright patches of rouge high on her cheeks, and her lips were shiny crimson.

Despite the evidence that she was a bit common, Jonathan stood up, giving a small, polite bow. "Good evening, miss. Would you care for a seat?"

She spread her hand over her bosom. "My word! Such a polite thing it is! Yes, thank you, I'd be pleased." She settled lightly on the small sofa, and Jonathan sat beside her. "Since there is no one here to give us a proper introduction, we'll have to do the honors ourselves." She offered her hand. "I am Andrea."

Jonathan waited a moment, then when he realized that a surname was not forthcoming, took her hand and said, "I am honored, miss. My name is Jonathan Harker."

She gave his hand a squeeze, and her grip was surprisingly firm. "Charmed. This is your first time here, Jonathan? I'm here most nights, and I know I haven't seen you before. I would have remembered such a handsome young buck."

Jonathan was a little taken aback by her casual use of his given name. But I've never been to a club, so I don't know how they do things. I suppose they don't stand on ceremony. "No, this is my first visit."

"Did you come with someone, or were you recruited?"

Jonathan looked at her, uncomprehending. "Beg pardon?"

"Oh, come now, pet. There's nothing to be ashamed of it they brought you in." She studied him with shrewd eyes. "You'll do very well here. In fact, I believe that you might even find yourself a good friend who'd like to have you to himself."

"My friend Jamey Roswell brought me. He's about somewhere."

"Jamey Roswell? Oh, no, pet, not Jamey! He's far too young to be able to do it up right. Now, his Uncle Darius is another matter. Rich as Midas, and quite generous," she tapped him on the shoulder with an ivory fan, "provided you're willing to be generous in return."

"I don't understand."

"Darling, really! You can't mean that..."

"Andy, dearest, shut your cake hole." Jamey, carrying a brandy, came up behind the sofa. He leaned over and dropped a peck on the proffered cheek. "Jonathan, don't listen to her. She's the most godawful tease in the entire club." He came around and sat on Jonathan's other side, casually laying his arm across the back of the sofa behind the other boy's back.

"Rosy, I've just been having a chat with your delightful companion. Where on earth did you find him?"

"Right under my nose, if you can believe it. He's a year behind me in school."

"No!" She looked at Jonathan with bright, delighted eyes. "You've brought us a schoolboy!"

"No, I have't," Jamey's voice was firm.

"Rosy, you can't be so cruel as to dangle him and not..."

Jamey stood up quickly. "Come with me for a moment, Andy." The walked a few paces away, and Jamey whispered to the woman. She turned yearning eyes back toward Jonathan, but Jamey gripped her arm, speaking even more firmly. Finally she nodded, gave Jonathan a small wave, and went to join another group.

Jamey watched Andrea (known as Andy, born Andrew) till 'she' was situated with another group, thinking, I'll just never understand what some of the members see in creatures like Andy. If I want a woman, I want a woman. If I want a man, I want a man.

He went back to Jonathan. "Come on. There are a few people I want to introduce you to. And for heaven's sake, sip that brandy! It isn't going to kill you." He led him over to a group of men, thinking, And since I had a word with them, I don't have to worry about them saying anything to alarm you. They know what it's like to try to coax a reluctant innocent along.

It was a pleasant evening. During the few social events he'd attended, Jonathan had been considered too young to be of interest to the adult men. After one or two rote questions about his school work he was always dismissed to join the younger guests, but these men spoke to him as if they believed he had a brain, and knew how to use it. He was caught up in the conversation, and was a little surprised when one of the footmen discreetly asked if he'd like another drink. Jonathan looked and, sure enough, the glass was empty. He didn't remember drinking it. He'd already had more alcohol than he'd ever had before. Almost more than the sum total of my drinking to date, he thought. I don't want to look foolish. He declined politely.

Finally Jonathan jogged Jamey's elbow. "It's half-past eleven, and we're supposed to be home by midnight."

"Oh, very well." Jamey pointed. "Go tell that man to call us a cab. I'll be with you in a moment." The little group watched Jonathan as he walked away, and Jamey said, "You can all congratulate me now."

The group laughed. One of them said, "You conceited dog! Yes, you've done very well for yourself, Rosy. Is he really a virgin?"

"I'd stake my immortal soul on it."

"Well, I'll take that as an affirmative, but we all know very well that you'd happily hazard your soul for something that delicious. Will you be bringing him back? Do say yes--I'd love a chance with him."

"Cool down. If all goes well I might, but I'll warn you now that I'm going to be a selfish cow, at least at first."

Another man shrugged. "Can't blame you for that, old boy. Beautiful, innocent, and clean. That's the sort you want to set up in a little flat so that you can have a cuddle and a tumble whenever you want."

"I don't think so," Jamey demurred. "Perhaps if he was of the lower class he might be practical, but he's middle-class, through and through. Far too respectable to be a kept boy, I'm afraid. Still," Jonathan was hovering near the door, looking back toward Jamey. Jamey sucked his teeth thoughtfully. "I do believe we'll come to some sort of an understanding."