A Hidden Past (Part V)

Althorpe fell suddenly silent, as Sir Nigel and Josephine Rumbleton appeared in the hall and began to walk towards them. Carmichael smoothed her agitated features into her normal demure expression to betray nothing of her concerns given what Althorpe had just said to her. She would tell Sir Nigel in due course, that Miss Rumbleton worried Althorpe very deeply and the matter needed to be investigated as soon as possible. Carmichael noticed that both of them seemed to be in a relaxed, mildly amused mood, obviously due to some remark that had just passed between then when they had first entered into the hallway.

"Everything all right with you, Althorpe?" Sir Nigel asked in passing as the four of them joined up and began making their way towards the Scotland Yard Annex, where the specialized internal branch of the Dead Watch which Sir Nigel and his team belonged had it's offices. Althorpe gave a brief nod to Sir Nigel, but said nothing more. Josephine Rumbleton noticed the uneasy, almost worried gaze the man gave her for a long moment before withdrawing into silence as they walked.

Millicent Carmichael on learning from Sir Nigel that Josephine was definitely going to be added to the team after taking the required 'examination' became rather more chatty, in fact downright gossipy as she traded high lights of some of the team's less classified investigations. Josephine added some of her own investigations experiences from her time with the street patrol and regular detective force, although she felt compared to Carmichael's commentary that her own experiences were rather less interesting. To her surprise, both Carmichael and Sir Nigel disagreed, to them all investigations had value or merit no matter how common place they might seem, as all too often they found in their own investigations the simplest item could have enormous importance when put in it's proper place in the solutions and operating theory of an investigation.

In many ways the building they were now in referred to by most Londoners as the Old Scotland Yard had become the offices, laboratories and records and evidence collection establishment of the Dead Watch, much of the regular police detectives and street patrol types had moved their offices to the newer and purpose built cluster of  buildings now increasingly called the New Scotland Yard. Technically the Dead Watch was actually called the Special, Paranormal and Occult Investigations and Studies Bureau. Although almost nobody inside or outside the British Police forces called it that, at least not for very long. The Bureau's chief was Sir Duncan Baird, a quiet, hard headed Scot, and an accomplished veteran of British and Imperial police work in all it's varied forms since Prime Minister Robert Banks Jenkinson, the 2nd Earl of Liverpool had set up the new model national British police administration back in 1822 through to 1829 under the guidance of the then Home Secretary Sir Robert Peel .

Originally the whole Special Investigations and Studies Bureau as it had then been called at the time, the Paranormal and Occult being added in much later, confined to the odd cluster of buildings adjacent to Old Scotland Yard, dubbed the Scotland Yard Annex. This had given the old Bureau it's nickname of the Annex Bureau, and this name still clung to the Paranormal and Occult section of the Bureau as it now largely occupied the Annex in its entirety, when the Special Investigations (now referred to by both the public and the regular police and detective force as the Dead Watch) part of the Bureau took over Old Scotland Yard as it's new place of business and operations.

My brother's first step into Cosplay

My brother Adam, tried out his Victorian attire for Hamilton Comic Con 2017. He garnered considerable attention and quite a few interested comments from others present. Adam was taken to be various characters ranging from Doctor Who, Doctor Jekyll/Mister Hyde and even Jack the Ripper amoung others.

  

Marine Nationale Armoured Cruiser, the Vauban, readies for action

Naval Fortresses of the Future, circa 1887

by Albert Robida

Memories of Past 2017 Conventions

Sir Leo, Cosplayer Vamptress LeeAnna Vamp & my brother Adam, Toronto Fan Expo 2017

 

Sir Leo and Cosplayer Ashley Du, Toronto Fan Expo 2017

 

 

Sir Leo and Cosplayer Riki "Riddle" Lecotey, Toronto Fan Expo 2017

 

 

Sir Leo and Cosplayer Violet Love , Toronto Fan Expo 2017

 

 

Sir Leo and Cosplayer Vera Bambi, Toronto Fan Expo 2017

 

 

A Hidden Past (Part IV)

"Constable, I am well satisfied as to your professional conduct and abilities which have won you a deservedly high regard amoungst your peers and superiors. I think you would be a definite asset to my special investigations detachment." Sir Nigel finally said aloud into the silence that had filled the room after his two companions had abruptly left.

Rumbleton, looked surprised and not a little pleased at his remarks, and her gaze briefly dropped to the center of the table top as she gathered her thoughts to make a response.

"Thank you, Sir Nigel. I have heard a great deal about you since joining the Dead Watch, I am honoured and not a little flattered that you would think me worthy of joining your investigations unit."

Sir Nigel smiled at the young woman's candour although she was right very few of the members of his team were mere police constables with only a few years service to their credit. Still, if his suspicions were correct about this young lady before him, she was no mere let alone average constable either.

"I would like you to come down to our offices so you can meet some of the team and they can evaluate you, and we can best decide who to pair you up with." Sir Nigel said crisply as he rose from his seat, extending his hand towards her in welcome. Josephine Rumbleton rose swiftly and clasped the offered hand firmly, she felt an electric thrill go through her. On a professional level, joining Sir Nigel's team enhanced her career prospects although they also enhanced the dangerous situations she was likely to wind up dealing with from now on, but that was par for the course in any of the divisions and bureaus of the Dead Watch. Whatever was going to happen it would be interesting and worth doing, and that mattered to her a great deal.

"There is a test you have to undergo, everyone who joins us does, myself included when I joined." Sir Nigel remarked as he guided Rumbleton to the door. "It's a deuced annoyance really but it has proven useful so it's been retained by every director of my bureau since before I even joined."

"Understood, Sir Nigel. What do I have to do?"

"Basically, sit in a special monitoring chair and answer a flurry of questions, the chair records and makes evaluations of your physical reactions. Its generally more tedious then anything else. It also administers a test for latent or potentially active magical or psionic abilities."

Rumbleton considered that remark for a few paces as they walked down the hall, then nodded to herself in understanding and agreement.

"Given the weirdness I have experienced in my first year with the Dead Watch I am not surprised, Sir Nigel."

Sir Nigel chuckled softly and gave his own nod of agreement and long experience.

"Too true, weird and dangerous, definitely comes with our territory."

The Imperial Russian Navy underway and leaving port

 by Ewoud Luppens

Attendence at the Kendal Ball (Part X)

Kendal Palace, Grosvenor Square, London, Great Britain: January 1886

Sir Leo suddenly for his part, felt as if a decade has just slide backward in time, he saw a young, mildly nervous and prettily attired young lady making her first presentation to formal society. His lips quirked into a smile at the memory. Ursula saw the smile and the twinkle in his brown eyes, and tilted her head slightly to one side questioningly.

"My apologies, Your Grace, I was suddenly reminded of the first ball, we both attended some years ago."

Ursula smiled in response, that particular ball in 1874 had been memorable for a lot of reasons not all of them pleasant of course given the circumstances, but it had lead to a close platonic friendship between her and Sir Leo which endured to this day. Then Captain-Lieutenant Leo Stanley Worthing-Topper had just returned from Africa on a delayed but necessary medical leave after being seriously wounded twice in action against the Abyssinians the pervious year to discover on his arrival back in Great Britain that he had just been elevated to the rank of Viscount upon the death of his father, the 6th Duke of Shromburg a month earlier. His older brother Stephen, had of course succeeded their father as the new 7th Duke and in doing so passed on his own family courtesy title of Viscount Worthing to his younger brother Leopold along with it's associated holdings, civic duties and feudal responsibilities and the rents, tithes and investments.

In all it had been a thoroughly bad start to the year, and Sir Leo had been in no mood to attend a society ball at his mother's insistence. He had been even less of a mood to stand idly by and watch a young girl be humiliated by a bunch of self important snobs and social butterflies. A man who had recently endured both a sword thrust to the jaw and been run through with an Abyssinian pike was not the sort to quail before the threat of mere social barbs. There were some compensations to being both a decorated military hero and being a member of the British Peerage and Sir Leo decided to make ruthless and entertaining use of them that particular evening.

Ursula's own white eyes began to twinkle brightly at the memory and something like a mischievous grin graced her lips, Sir Thomas saw the look and raised an eye brow in silent question and not a little curiosity. He knew that both Ursula and Sir Leo had a history together and while their closeness gave him occasional twinges of jealousy it never gave him cause for concern otherwise.

Before anyone of the three could speak a word, someone cleared their throat quietly but none to subtlety at Ursula's side. Both Sir Leo and Sir Thomas watched in only partially concealed amusement as Ursula's lips tried to flex into both a bemused smile and a grimace at the same time. Ursula's aunt, the Lady Penelope Wraithdale, took a step forward and tapped her niece gently and reprovingly on the shoulder with her lace fan.

"You still have a great many people to greet, young lady. Time to socialize with old gallants and admirers, later."

"Yes, Aunt Penelope."

Lady Penelope's own lips quirked into a very alluring full lipped smile, her dark eyes sparkled at her niece. She was actually only a few years older then her niece, being closer to Sir Leo in age, although greatly surpassing him in looks as far as he was concerned. Lady Penelope was quite as beautiful and iron willed as all the Wraithdale women were, although her hair was a soft blond, with darker highlights and her eyes were dark brown rather then silver-white of her late sister, the Duchess of Kendal, Ursula's mother. She was also one of the seven appointees that acted as trustees to the Wraithdale fortune.

"Do not take that tone with me, young lady!"

"Oh dear..." Sir Thomas said half aloud, half to himself and exchanging a side long glance with Sir Leo, who was obviously trying to avoid breaking out into outright laughter at the two women's discourse. This unfortunately brought him to Lady Penelope's attention, her fan snapped shut and rapped him soundly in the chest.

"Sir Thomas! I expect you of all people, to set this incorrigible young lady a good example before the guests."

"My apologies, Lady Penelope." Sir Thomas said contritely, Ursula for her part eyed her man with scant favour at this moment and a wicked look glimmered in her eyes, which promised loving trouble for him later on.

Attendence at the Kendal Ball (Part IX)

Kendal Palace, Grosvenor Square, London, Great Britain: January 1886

Sir Thomas Jameson, stood close to Ursula, dark haired, dark eyed, handsome with an erect carriage and trim figure, he looked every inch the experienced and dashing sea captain that he was. The Jamesons had originated in the Isle of Bute, in the Hebrides, Scotland before putting down roots in the County of Barcestshire, England sometime in the 1300s. The Jamesons had become overtime, gentlemen farmers, artisans and county officials over the next five hundred years, they had acquired a baronetcy some three generations back due to service in the American Revolutionary war and quietly become part of the English Gentry.

One of the few things that Sir Thomas and Sir Leo had in common, aside from Ursula, was they were both members of the London Travelers Club and had attended Barchester College. Sir Thomas had studied with an eye to the medical or military profession, and had hopes of becoming either a physician or a surgeon. Family connections had garnered a commission as a midshipman in the Royal Navy and Sir Thomas had entertained hopes of a long and distinguished career. Illness in the form of an extended and nearly fatal bout of fever contracted in India ended his military career after six years. Sir Thomas was forced to retire from active service at the rank of Lieutenant. Family financial constraints had then forced Sir Thomas to turn to the merchant marine to find gainful employment, as a ship's doctor. While not Sir Thomas's first choice, he would have preferred to establish himself in a lucrative London practice, he had made the best of it and gained both experience and a solid professional reputation in the Locke & Key Line. Over time he had become the doctor of choice for the Line's fast passenger ship captains.

In 1882, Doctor Thomas Jameson's world changed forever, a routine passage from Britain to Brazil turned into a bloody disaster when three pirate airships and two privateering surface ships attacked the Liner S.S. Laura, which he was aboard as chief surgeon. In the space of half an hour, Jameson wound up being the only ship's officer still standing unwounded or killed. By dint of hard effort he rallied the crew and passengers and managed not only to retake the liner from it's captors but turn the tables on them, capturing one of the surface ships, while sinking the other pirate ship and blowing two of the airships out of the sky. The surviving pirate airship fled the scene, leaving Jameson in command of the field of action and the spoils so to speak. One Lady Ursula Wraithdale happened to be one of the passengers about the S.S. Laura on this occasion, and in the course of events, the two made considerable impression upon each other. A very lasting impression as events would later show.

Sir Thomas, as he became after the affair, knighted by the order of the Queen, had become something of a celebrity in nautical circles. The Locke & Key Line, had transferred him from the medical branch to the command branch of their service, and from then on placed him in command of a variety of their fast passenger liners. His captaincy of the various Liners had been to date a success and much to his credit. Energetic, charming, capable and an extremely pushy young man, many expected him to rise to the post of senior commodore of the Locke & Key Line within a few years.

Sir Leo expected that once Ursula and Sir Thomas were formally engaged, although he suspected that the two were secretly engaged already that he would be seeing a lot more of both of them together whenever he was in London.

Ursula turned to greet Sir Leo, who moved to stand before her.

Battleships of the French Marine Nationale

Battleship of the German Kaiserliche Marine under way with torpedoboat escort

A Hidden Past (Part III)

Millicent Carmichael followed her fellow investigator swiftly into the hall, jerking him to a sudden and painful stop when she caught up with him. The man seemed momentarily oblivious to both his immediate surroundings and to her all too unladylike steel hard grip on his wrist, his eyes flashing with conflicting emotions as he grappled with whatever vision now had him in it's possession.

"What did you see? Whatever it is has you spooked, Althorpe."

"I... I saw death that walks..." Ebenezer Leighton Althorpe's eyes flickered eerily with luminous witch-fires glowing from their depths, his voice was curiously hushed, laced with deep shock and something rather like fear and yet strangely crisp and detached.

"Do not go cryptic on me, Althorpe. If your vision is important, Sir Nigel needs to know it."

"I am not being cryptic." He retorted with some asperity creeping into his vague but troubled tone. "I am being exact, Josephine Rumbleton, is amoung the dead and yet amoung the living. I saw her past and it terrifies me."

Carmichael looked searchingly into Althorpe's eyes, measuring his agitated expression, she did not like what she was seeing and she understood it even less. Althorpe was typically unflappable in dangerous or strange circumstances, he had a cool, collected calm you could not crack with a pick axe. That customary calm was not in evidence now.

"I... I do not follow you?"

Althorpe nodded absently at the remark and made a serious effort for the first time to pull himself together and give something like a coherent report to his colleague.

"When I looked at her with my mystic sight, her appearance abruptly altered before my eyes. That was not supposed to happen, I was trying a protocol to determine if she possesses any magical ability or hidden items. Suddenly  I was seeing both what she was and what she had been."

"As I watched, her hair shifted... becoming tangled, wild and unkempt. Her skin paled, bruised and in places it rotted while overall her flesh became marked with grime and bloodstains. Her constable's uniform faded away from my sight like smoke and was replaced by more... feminine garments that were as despoiled, bloodied and disheveled as the rest of her rapidly changing appearance."

Althorpe shuddered, ashen faced at the image his excellent memory was again calling forth from his unconscious to his rebelling conscious mind. After a minute he continued, his voice low and strained.

"Her face was the worst of it, her irises had paled from light brown to a ghostly white-grey, her lips and teeth were clotted with blood, while a ragged scar traversed her face from just under her right eye kinking over her nose and angling down her left cheek. She looked a perfect horror and yet... strangely attractive... almost beguiling..." his voice trailed off with the last words, making Carmichael feel like she had abruptly gone deaf.

"Is she some sort of vampire?"

"No, she seems to be or rather at sometime in the past was of the living or walking Dead. A zombie to be precise, rather then one of the vampiric Undead proper."

"When I looked into her eyes, at first they did not appear to notice me. They were vacant, soulless, absolutely blank save for the fact that they were filled with a mindless hunger for the flesh of the Living. Then without warning they shifted and turned upon me. " He paused and swallowed, absolutely chilled by this part of the vision. "You have heard various expressions over the years about gazing into the Abyss?"

Carmichael nodded. She was beginning to get just a little creeped out now, Sir Nigel and his team dealt with some strange and ghastly stuff on a regular basis, but this was definitely out of the ordinary. People did not ever come back from being zombies, even the most accomplished necromancer, skilled in the white or black magics, could not manage it.

"Well, sometimes when you do, the Abyss gazes back at you. There was a terrible will, an intense focus unlike anything I have experienced before, behind those eyes. I am not sure if it was her or that some other power or directing intelligence was looking at me through her."

"Then... it... her... Smiled. She or whatever was looking out of her eyes, knew who and what I was, it was reading me like an open book. Up till then I had merely been scared, now I knew sheer terror. I had to get away from it whatever it was, I broke the mental and mystical link that I had established with her. I could bear no more of it."

A State of the A.A.S.S.I. Blog

To date, Wednesday, March 22, 2017, I have received the interest and attention of the following countries and the consequent number of page views.

Brazil - 78

Canada - 78

United States - 62

Portugal - 33

Ukraine - 2

Australia - 1

United Kingdom - 1

Total - 255 page views

To all of you have dropped in and I hope continue to follow my blog, thank you. Your interest is very much and sincerely appreciated. When I started this project in October 2016, I wasn't sure what would become of it, or how it would evolve. I do know that I have a long way to go yet, before it's finished, so I hope you will all be with me for a long time to come.

Victorian Great Britain, the Orkney and Shetland Islands

Scottish Highland & Lowland Clans

Attendence at the Kendal Ball (Part VIII)

Kendal Palace, Grosvenor Square, London, Great Britain: January 1886

Sir Leo signaled the attendants to leave him and see to the next group of incoming carriages. The sturdy walking stick he had with him would suffice to help keep his own balance. Both men nodded and walked swiftly back across the pavement. Sir Leo turned back to the great entrance and walked casually towards it taking in the architecture, he was no stranger to this place, but the beauty of the place even at night lite only by gas light was impressive. The architects had managed to blend the various often contrasting styles of the various buildings added at various times into a comfortable and unified whole. The gentle frosting of ice and snow covering the roof tops and grounds reflected the light and twinkled in the darkness like gems.

Sir Leo felt his mood lightening, the strains of music were audible to the ear, as people ahead of him passed through the great double doors of the Kendal Palace inlaid in bronze with the combined Ducal arms and the Wraithdale arms. A group of plain clothes detectives and several uniformed and heavily armed police constables stood at either side of the doorway as he approached working with one of the Wraithdale family chamberlains and several foot postilions. This hardly surprised Sir Leo given the wealth and social precedence of many of those on the guest list for tonight.

Big Ben, the great clock of Westminster, struck the hour, silhouetted like some giant castle tower or keep against the night sky. Sir Leo  had always thought since he had first seen it in childhood of Big Ben as the sentinel of London, with four giant eyes watching out from it's four faces to the four major points of the compass. A glance at the hands of his watch with the aid of the soft light coming from the Great Door, showed it was 10:00 pm exactly. The formal reception for the ball would start shortly.

Sir Leo passed through the imposing security cordon, showed his invitation to the chamberlain, and was cordially ushered through the great doors and into the reception hall beyond. He paused only briefly to discard his heavy cloak and coat into the custody of one of the waiting cloak room postilions, along with his heavy helmet. Sir Leo then was directed into the hall itself, the Senior Butler of Kendal Hall greeted him quietly, and turned to announce him to the general throng of people who already occupied the spacious reception hall. Henry Addington had once been a classically trained and very successful Opera and Shakespearean actor in his youth, before he had found himself by hard times and happy circumstances in Sir Geoffrey's employ and he used his still powerful and crisply articulated voice to good affect when announcing the guests as they arrived. The staff in his gloved hands struck the hard stone floor three times.

"The Right Honourable, the Viscount Worthing." He boomed with a voice worthy of a sergeant-major on a battalion drill field. The excellent accoutics of the cavernous hall did not hurt either as nearly everyone in the hall hear it clearly and turned to view the newcomer, standing at the top of the ten steps that lead from the Door Hall into the Reception Hall. Some three hundred eyes turned on him, as he walked slowly down the ten steps. He knew a great many of these people, Sir Geoffrey and the Wraithdale family as a rule moved in varied and interesting circles of society, although not always circles some of their aristocratic contemporaries approved of. However being a Duke meant as a rule that one could safely if politely ignore most of the other peers below oneself and get on with enjoying yourself.

At the moment his attention concentrated on one person and one person alone. Ursula Wraithdale. She stood some twenty feet from the foot of the stairs, receiving the guests who had entered just before him, greeting each cordially and being greeted warmly in turn. The light airy and soothing notes of the opening to Vivaldi's Four Seasons floated through the room, setting the tone for the evening. Ursula herself looked absolutely vibrant tonight, every inch the aristocratic duchess and accomplished woman of society, although her rich sun tanned colouring would have sent many a more conventional society dame's teeth on edge. Her flaming red hair worn long and heavily curled and coiffed was set off by both her golden hued skin and her fabulous dark green dress, trimmed in decorative and expensive black lace and a hint of white silk or satin at neck and wrists. Her jewelry while deceptively plain, being confined to arrangements, around her throat, brow and ears, of diamonds and pearls were of excellent quality and beauty.

Her dress left her shoulders daringly bare, while falling in a figure hugging cascade of beautifully cut cloth all the way to the floor. The shallowly plunging neckline of the dress was formed into a crescent of black lace with its sharply contrasting line of white against her skin, neatly framing her very appealing bosom. A tiara of diamonds with pearl ornaments adorned her forehead, while a black silk, white laced pearl decorated choker encircled her throat, it's centerpiece was a large flawless stone of more then unusual brilliance. Her ears were decorated with diamonds clasps to which a single large tear-drop pearl was hung. Two pearl necklaces encircled her neck, then fell at two lengths down the front of her dress, the first just below the edge of her laced bust, the second, fell three hand spans lower to stop at her midriff just above her hips. Her arms were covered in long sleeved gloves, which terminated just short of her shoulder, and were like her throat decorated at wrist and just before the shoulder with bands of diamonds and pearls.

Beside her stood a smartly dressed and turned out gentlemen in the dark blue uniform of the British Merchant Marine, with the four gold lace rings of a full captain on his cuffs. A cluster of mercantile decorations for service and medals of merit as well as several British and foreign decorations for gallantry were fitted neatly to the upper part of his tunic. A splendid Lloyd's Patriotic Fund presentation sword decorated his left hip.

Captain Sir Thomas Jameson.

A Hidden Past (Part II)

Sir Nigel looked at the young woman across the narrow width of the oak interview table. Behind him stood two members of his special investigations team: a man of middle age and a young, demure woman both in civilian dress rather then the formal dark blue and black police uniform that Rumbleton wore. The young woman wore a dress made entirely of black cloths; velvets, stains and laces. The only contrasting colour in her attire was the deep purple silk ribbons that decorated her dress and light brown, heavily curled hair. She possessed an attractive oval face which was at first glance surprisingly pale but had an attractive amber colouring that suggested some foreign or exotic parentage. Wide, sparkling blue eyes took in her surroundings with guarded interest.

Her male companion, by way of contrast could be described as almost nondescript: he wore a dark grey frock coat, black boots and an unadorned tan coloured vest and light grey trousers. His face like his body was lean, narrow almost to the point of gauntness. His hair was the colour of freshly burned ash as were his eyes although they had a suggestion of an almost luminous green tint to them. While the woman was as still as glass, the man moved restlessly even when standing still not even his eyes remained fixed upon anything for more then a few seconds. Rumbleton ignored both of them, her attention rested firmly upon the older, white haired man seated before her.

Sir Nigel mentally ticked off things about Josephine Rumbleton, that he either knew from her records or from simple direct observation. She wore her regulation police constable's uniform as if it was perfectly natural to her to, perhaps with a bit of careful hand tailoring to enhance it for cut and style. She wore her dark brown hair loosely but neatly combed and an artful minimum of makeup. Although this did not distract from the fact she had an attractive face and pleasing deep brown eyes. Her records were remarkably vague to the point of being cryptic regarding her past life, which intrigued Sir Nigel. Take her education for instance, under the entry for her elementary education were the words: School of Hard Knocks and for her higher education were the words: University of Life. Her birthdate and even her exact age was a matter of some interested speculation if not outright conjecture amoung her fellow constables and detectives. In fact there was practically no information regarding her life before joining the London Police other then she had worked by her own admission as a seamstress, although that had not been successfully verified by anyone.

Information concerning other details of her early life were just as maddeningly nonexistent in her professional record, the entries for her parents or siblings if any or extended relatives were mysteriously blank. It was assumed that she was born in London but there was no actual hospital paperwork or local church baptismal certificate to back that assumption up, only her extensive knowledge of the city consistent only with someone who was or had been a long time resident. For some reason the name Rumbleton jogged a warning note in his memory but nothing immediately presented itself to Sir Nigel's mind when he considered it.

Suddenly something in Sir Nigel's memory clicked into place. Rumbleton Alley was a part of what was known to Londoners as the Devil's Courtyard, an ancient, largely derelict and labyrinthine selection of buildings and twisted streets and narrow alleys in the oldest part of East London. A street called Hobb's Lane formed the area's main concourse. Until about five years ago, the place had been a major point of trouble for the London Police in general and the Dead Watch in particular. Around that time a mysterious fire had gutted much of the area, killing many of it's inhabitants, human and otherwise.

The middle aged man behind Sir Nigel suddenly stiffened, his eyes fixed upon Josephine Rumbleton with a terrible clarity, as if he was looking straight through her. Surprisingly, the constable did not react to the scrutiny which typically unnerved most people. In point of fact she seemed to fail to even notice it. Sir Nigel felt his interest pique, something was afoot, his psychic investigator was having one of his clairvoyant episodes. After several moments, the man shook himself then abruptly turned on his heel without a word and left the room, the woman followed him after a nod from Sir Nigel.

A Hidden Past (Part I)

Constable Josephine Rumbleton looked out the soot begrimed window of her small office in Scotland Yard's special investigations annex. The skyline of London was bathed in a deep velvety blue-black tinted with a warm red-orange, the sun was just beginning to creep steadily up and over the horizon. It heralded the beginning  of another morning, a new day was dawning with that warm glow, meaning she had survived yet another night. She looked back absently at the report upon her age and work worn desk, she had spent the last hour recording and indexing. It made grim reading but that was not all that unusual in a police criminal report. Moreover it was all too normal for a night's work in the secretive and quietly dreaded London Metropolitian Police's Dead Watch.

Inspector Sir Nigel Redfern, seated a floor above and two halls away from the room Rumbleton occupied, examined the cluster of official ledgers and police dossiers before him on the interview room table. The young police inspector at his side shifted uneasily in the silenced that seemed to cloak the room. The older man's stern patrician profile was highlighted by  the lights and shadows thrown up by the shrouded lamp that hung over the table. The white haired, clean shaven senior police inspector spoke not a word, merely turning the pages of each document that lay before him then moving to the next when his examination was completed.

"I am not sure, Sir Nigel, if our Constable Rumbleton is the right person for you."

"Hm?" Sir Nigel responded absently as he continued his inspection of the police career dossier in front of him. After another few minutes, Sir Nigel looked up from the papers and fixed the young inspector with a cool, searching gaze.

"Why would you think that, Inspector? Is there something against her? From what I have seen so far, her service with the street patrol and investigations branches seems to have been exemplary." Sir Nigel tapped the dossier in front of him with his folded reading glasses for emphasis.

"Whistler, is.... well... a bit of an odd duck, sir."

"Whistler... " Sir Nigel said flatly, it was not a question, the young inspector coloured briefly and visibly in embarrassment as the older man's gaze settled even more firmly upon him. Sir Nigel as a rule did not altogether approve of nicknames and even less of ones that he surmised were designed to mock of denigrate the person they were applied to.

"Inspector Mathieson, you have some explaining to do."

The Dead Watch was Scotland Yard's oddball division, it was literally the graveyard shift working through the dead of night from dusk till dawn, and all too often got the worst the London police and detectives had to deal with from the merely strange or out of the ordinary criminal cases to the terrifyingly grotesque in occult or paranormal investigations. For someone in the Dead Watch to be referred  to as "odd" was no mean feat considering some of the truly epic characters found within it's ranks.

Inspector Edward Mathieson winced inwardly, he was most definitely not going to enjoy the next few minutes of this conversation.

"How odd?"

"She has an affinity for horror, she does not frighten easily. Hell, she does not frighten at all!" Mathieson said with a trace of bewilderment. "She even appears to enjoy it. Which is probably a good thing I suppose given the horrors we wind up routinely investigating."

"how long has she been with the Police Force?"

"Hm, almost four years now. Two years with the street patrol service, a year with the regular detective branch and then a year with us in the Dead Watch."

"The nickname?"

"That followed her from her time with Street Patrol. Evidently she had a pronounced tendency to whistle when she spoke, particularly the letter 'S' so her fellow constables took to calling her 'Whistler'. I gather she got into a few... well, altercations about it. Several were serious, she was reprimanded for attempting to pummel the stuffings out of at least three of her male comrades in Street Patrol at one time or another."

"Tormentors, more likely, Inspector." Sir Nigel remarked coolly.

"Another thing, she seems to be able to sense death or the supernatural. Several times she's gotten our lads out ofa jam by either turning them clear of potential trouble or at least give them a vital few minutes prior warning that we were going to be hip deep in it!"

"Did Constable Rumbleton, ever explain or account to you or anyone else for this peculiar ability?"

"Not that I know of, for most of us in the Dead Watch teams that worked with her on a regular basis, it was enough that it worked and helped make the difference between life and death quite often literally for us. Come to think of it, it often seemed that her physical senses were even more acute then normal at such times."

"In any event, Inspector Mathieson, I would like to see Constable Rumbleton for a few minutes before I make up my mind."

"Very well, Sir Nigel. I can have her called in, she is still filing a report at the moment, if you would feel comfortable enough to wait a few minutes."

"Thank you, Inspector. I appreciate it."

Further Writings and or Postings

My apologies for not posting more often, however my writing regime has been affected by my getting a new job after being unemployed for three months, and mastering it to the satisfaction of my new employers. I will however be resuming regular posts after the third week of March, by  which time I hope to have assembled enough materials and short stories and or snippets. Please be patient with me.

Thank you, everyone for your interest in my blog to date.

Attendence at the Kendal Ball (Part VII)

Grosvenor Square, London, Great Britain: January 1886

The next four days had flowed by following their own predetermined course dictated by custom, social standing and occupation. For Sir Leo, reflected wryly as his carriage trundled towards the Wraithdale residence through the streets of West London. The Duchess of Kendal's Ball, was to be one of the first society balls of what was considered the London Season. Most of fashionable London had begun filtering back into the capital right after Christmas, most of them to take their seats in Parliament either as members of the House of Lords or the House of Commons. The real social season did not get underway until after Parliament's Easter Recess, then it when straight on hell for leather until August 12th, when everyone in London who was part of the aristocracy, gentry and fashionable set quit the city for the countryside for the grouse season. Parliamentary adjournments for the following  partridge season on September 1st, pheasant season October 1st and fox hunting on the first Monday in November acted as periodic breaks on the London Season, which amounted to some one-hundred days, and one-hundred nights of non-stop parties, balls, dances, and sporting, artistic, theatre and musical events.

Most people in society did not realize how regulated their lives were by custom and habit, most people of his own class rose at 7:30 or 8:00 am, and their day did not often end until 3:00 am that night. Sir Leo had grown to manhood in a military family, many of his forebears had been generals, admirals, estate owners, governmental councilors and the like, so a life guided by details, regulations and system did not particularly bother him, but he was all too aware how a clock and a calendar could and did rule his life. Most of the aristocracy and gentry did not think about: it was the way things were, the way things were always going to be. Sir Leo for his part often found London Society; smug, conceited and vapidly stupid, it's obsessive concern with outward appearances, oh so poised manners and things that were not of the slightest moment. Sir Leo put it down to the fact that all too many of people in London Society, had never had their lives endangered, never had to face what was really important or worthy in life. Sir Leo had served Queen and Country for fourteen years; he had seen a side of life, in all it's darks, shadows and lights, that few of his pampered fellow aristocrats had ever seen.

Sir Leo shook the thoughts aside, he was not going to turn up at Ursula's first ball in a black mood, it would spoil the evening's ambiance if nothing else. Tonight promised to be as bright, lively and entertaining an evening one could have. His carriage continued down the line of mansions, palaces and courtly houses of Gorsvenor Square. Their architectural styles were as varied as the great families that resided within them, Tudor, Gothic, Baroque and Rocco, amoung other styles could be seen and distinguished against the glow of the street lamps. Finally he came to the imposing Wraithdale Gate, the entrance to Basilscourt, the great courtyard that joined the older Wraithdale House, the slightly  newer Wraithdale Hall and the Kendal Palace, which made up the Duchess of Kendal's new ducal palace in London. Originally the three buildings had been separate buildings in their own rights, the Wraithdale House, as it was called, was more like a medieval castle then a house, it glowered over its surroundings with turrets and battlements, it's architecture neo-Romanesque and Gothic in tone. Wraithdale Hall was lighter, more Baroque with a touch of the Rocco about it, more the splendid urban palace or chateau then fortress. Kendal Palace, the London home of the various Dukes and Duchesses of Kendal was just as imposing as it's two neighbours, mixing Baroque, Rocco and Gothic features.

The carriage rattled up to the gate, stopping briefly to present his invitation to the Wraithdale family attendants guarding the gateway. Current social custom required, a guest who was invited to a ball, to arrive approximately thirty minutes to ninety minutes of hour of the time specified on the invitation. Sir Leo snapped his pocket watch open, he was in good time the ball was set to start for 10:00 pm exactly. The bulk of the guests coming to the Kendal Ball had already dined at 8:00 pm in a series of sumptuous dinner parties arranged in Sir Geoffrey's honour by the Duchess of Kendal's staff, at Calvary's. The place had been packed to bursting, Sir Leo thought with amusement and George had made more then a pretty penny on it too, if that night's receipts were anything to go by. Still everyone had enjoyed the evening meal, the music and the shared memories of the late Duke and Duchess of Kendal. Still the attendants did nothing by halves, they were on the watch for party crashers of various sorts, and checked his invitation against a master list. The attendant passed back his invitation and gave Sir Leo a crisp salute, and then waved Sir Leo's carriage on and into the great courtyard. Various carriages were already drawn up in the paved space before him. A glance even with the with his vision hindered by the winter darkness, revealed several of the carriages had coats-of-arms as ornate as his own. The society gossips and reporters watching the gateway would be flipping through Burke's Peerage and the Royal Calendar before morning trying to identify all the attending aristocrats and gentry.

Sir Leo alighted from the carriage with practiced ease, the pavement was slick with patches of ice and frost, his breath fogging in the night air. Straightening his long dark cloak and inverness coat, which covered his full dress uniform, Sir Leo paused long enough to don his black cloth and yellow metaled spiked helmet. The badge of the British Army, combined with the badge of the Royal Corps of Engineers gleamed dully in the lamp light of the courtyard. Right, best foot forward, Sir Leo thought, two attendants trailed him making sure he would come to no harm if he took a miss step on the pavement on his way to the main doorway.