Harry remained silent. For he had three sisters and though he did not give them too much thought, the mere idea that an upstart might force his attentions on one of them was too horrible to think about.

Robert sat back and drank his ale quietly. Then he added: "Perhaps we could hire some kids to trash the house too. Or some guys to trash Blacke himself. Difficulty is, it shouldn't be traced back to us, because my father is on his side, God knows why."

The following day, intrepid idiot Harry Hardcastle entered the Gardener’s Arms to try and solve the case of the undeserving urchin. The main bar was mostly empty except for a few elderly regulars and a quiet drunk.

“Allo, sir. What can I get you?”

“Yes. I’m looking for someone, I was wondering if he drank in here?”

The publican was non-committal as he polished his bar

“People that drink in ‘ere don’t like questions like that.”

Harry was actually intimidated by that answer so changed his approach.

“Well, you see, I am a lawyer. My name is a Castle, I am trying to find this man - a Joseph Blacke, to give him a bequest from the estate of my client.”

“'ow much?”

“Excuse me?” Harry blinked.

“'ow much is Joseph Blacke getting?” the man behind the bar asked.

“30 pounds.” Harry answered, pulling a number out of thin air.

“For 30 pounds, I’ll be Joseph Blacke!” a regular piped up from down the bar with a chuckle of laughter from his drinking pals.

“Sorry, ‘e’s not been in a while.” Damn.

“My client’s estate is most keen to see that this money is not, well, spent in a place a like this -” Harry realised his surroundings and the error of his words “- at least not entirely. What sort of a man is Mister Blacke?” Harry produced a small notebook and pencil.

The publican leaned close to Harry “Oh Joesph Blacke is a terrible man... the worst sort:” a few chuckles. Harry nodded eagerly. This was the information Robert had wanted. The landlord continued, “‘e’s prophane, ‘e beats women and children,” Harry nodded scribbling hurriedly. More titters. The publican continued louder, so that all present would hear the evils of Joseph Blacke and beware. “’e even throws bags of kittens off the West Pier. Louder sniggering. E boasted in this very bar that ‘e was plannin’ on stealin’ the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London…”

It was then that the barman winked and Harry realised he was being publicly mocked. The barman snatched up the notebook and tore out the page of notes.

“Like I says, Mister Castle ‘e's not been in a while.”

"Joesph Blacke... Joseph Blacke." The fair haired Constable Neil thumbed through the catalog of crime at the police station as Harry looked on. It was a long shot if the constabulary had anything on the ruffian, but this Joe Blacke seemed just the sort to mix it with police.

"Here we go. Oh him. Stupid with drink he was. Charged with public drunkenness, breach of the peace, and insulting a police officer." Neil's voice sounded bitter at that last charge, for he had arrested him and there was nothing fishy about his parentage. "He went before the magistrate. Why do y-" Neil began to ask, but Harry cut him off with a curt 'thanks' before disappearing out the front door of the police station.

Harry plopped himself down on a bench and pouted at the lack of progress made in the case against this Blacke chap. He hadn't been seen in the pubs recently, but the drinkers hadn't said too many bad things about him. Were they right? Was this man as bad as Robert claimed? Harry waivered. Blacke had run afoul of the law and been before the bench, so surely a decent man wouldn't do that sort of thing? Anyway, Robert had said this fellow was a bad sort, and Robert wouldn't lie to Harry of all people. Would this information please him?

Finally the bastards at the station had given him a free day. How did the working classes survive it? Of course, he wouldn't pity them. They were made for it. But one wouldn't give a fine thoroughbred horse born in the country's best stables the work of a burly but dumb country pony. So why should a Carrington work like slum rat? Ugh, the stupidity of his uneducated colleagues. And their filthy habits. Their food. Their way of speaking. All of it disgusted him.

And things were only getting worse.

He had dressed in his best suit, just show the world who he really was. But that and his walking cane did not match his gait. He was striding along with a scowl on his face. Pearl. Bloody Pearl had eloped with the cur, and his father.... His father could go to hell. Or to prison, if his mother had her way, and he would support it. But the asylum seemed their best shot at this point. And serve him right too! Father still supported Pearl over the rest of his children.

They should have framed him for the disappearance of Olivia's fiancé while they had the chance.

Robert's feet suddenly halted when his eyes landed on the red-haired young man on the bench ahead of him. His scowl deepened. So much for Harry's help. He walked over, slower, and stopped nearby. "Harry."

At the sound of his own name, Harry's eyes brightened at the arrival of his friend. He rose from his bench and joined him.

"Robert! Am I glad to see you. Listen, I don't have much on this Joseph fellow you wanted me to find. The police said he'd been up in front of a judge for being drunk, but none of the people in the pubs I went to would talk to me, about him, or anything really. I'm sorry. What about you? Did those brutes at the railway mention anything we can use?"

Harry's stream of words sounded like the buzzing of an annoying fly to Robert's already irritated ears. He sighed and planted his cane forcefully into the ground. "Never mind that. The rat's run off with my sister. This is only the beginning, I tell you. Those slum dwellers will take more and more things that don't belong to them."

"I say!" Harry exclaimed at this new development. "Which one did he go with?" He asked foolishly, for Robert had several sisters and Harry couldn't keep them straight.

Robert stared speechlessly at Harry for a few seconds, contemplating how his friend had gotten into university. Probably because Robert had always let him use his notes in return for Harry's service as body guard back in school. "Pearl," he finally stated. "The one he had been seeing." He wished Magnus was still alive, so he could shoot Joe Blacke as well.

Robert pulled his cane loose, walked over to the bench and sat down with a sullen expression. "My father has lost his mind. Still decided to give everything to her. We need to bring both of them down. That rat and Pearl."