“A pleasure,” Jemma said.
“What a lovely voice,” Knabby said, cocking his head to one side. “Yes, it sounds like a duchess. I shall remember that, indeed I shall. So that is what a duchess sounds like!” He wasn’t squinting due to the dark, Jemma realized. He had a permanent squint.
Jemma looked up at Elijah. “Knabby has lost his sight,” he told her.
“I see a bit, I see a bit,” Knabby put in. “Light and shadows, really. Better than many.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Jemma said. She knew Elijah had to be involved in a charitable project. It was so like him. But her smile died at the hard look in his eyes.
“Knabby lost his sight because he worked in our glassblowing factory,” Elijah said, and his voice was flinty.
Knabby had turned and was making his way briskly along the dark corridor. “Do come along to the birthday!” he called. “Oh my yes, I was a glassblower, m’lady. Is it my lady? Or is there something else I should be a-calling her? Is she a grace as well? Or duchess lady?”
“You may call me whatever you wish,” Jemma said, picking up her skirts and following him.
“Do you wish to give me a report, before we go to the birthday party?” Elijah asked Knabby.
Knabby stopped suddenly, and Jemma almost ran into him. Then he started jabbering so fast she could hardly follow. “Nibble’s wife has been staying with him for a spell, but they do fight something terrible. So I moved them to the back of the house where no one can hear her a-beating on him.”
“Beating on him?” Jemma said, unable to stop herself.
Knabby turned his face toward her. “She’s a devilishly strong woman, and if you give her a saucepan, she can make a right rumpus,” he said. “Especially when he’s been in the drink. ’Course, Nibble isn’t easy either. Many’s the time that my hand has itched for a saucepan, if you take my meaning.”
“How’s Waxy doing?” Elijah asked. “Waxy is a quite elderly gentleman,” he told Jemma. “He must be around sixty now, isn’t he, Knabby?”
“Well, he has his lung problems. He has those. But his daughter’s been visiting him regular-like, with a couple babes in tow, so he’s right as a flea in a cup of tea.”
“Has the doctor been coming weekly?”
Knabby started down the hall again. “A waste of your ready that is, Yer Grace. A waste of the ready. There’s nothing the man can do and we’re all happy. Though he did pull a tooth for Cully the other day.”
“Cully is well?”
“Fair to middling. Of course, it’s his birthday today, so he’s in the drink already, though I hate to say it. But that’s Cully.” He stopped just outside a tall door.
“They’re in the courtyard, enjoying the sun. But I should tell you that the foreman stopped by and we’ll be having a new man with us, any day now. The name is Berket. Can’t say that I remember him very well, but he was beginning when I left, I expect.”
“There’s room enough?” Elijah asked.
“More than enough! We’ve got that room from when Lasker left us, a month ago that’s been. And there’s Nicholson’s room open still, and another one too, when Miss Sophisba ain’t choosing to stay there. She’s here today and will be glad to see Yer Grace.”
“Anything you need, just send a boy to Towse,” Elijah said. He glanced down at Jemma. “Towse is one of my solicitors.”
“We need nothing,” Knabby said merrily. “We admired them fruits as you sent from yer conservatory, Yer Grace, but to tell the truth, none of the men would eat them. They’re set in their ways, and they’re not adventuresome, if you know what I mean. The children snapped them right up, though.”
“Who is Miss Sophisba?” Jemma whispered as Knabby opened the door. “And—”
“You’ll see,” Elijah said, and there was something so grim about his voice that Jemma stopped talking.
At first sight the small courtyard seemed to be hosting a children’s party, but after a moment Jemma realized that there were more chickens than people, and though both groups were making noise, the three children chasing a puppy were winning the contest.
“Now look who’s come to celebrate Cully’s birthday,” Knabby announced. “The duke is here, you group of lazy scubblers!”
The courtyard was dominated by a circle of dilapidated armchairs mostly occupied by men, all of whom turned toward Knabby’s voice. And all of whom, Jemma realized immediately, were blind.
They were a curious bunch. For one thing, not everyone had chosen to put on clothing. Two men were entirely without trousers; their scrawny white legs stretched out in the weak sun. One of them had a beard so long that it was tucked into the waistband of his apron, which he wore, incongruously, on top of a plaid coat.