George tackled another sugar-encrusted work of art. 'Remarkable young lady, wouldn't you say? I mean, coming over here to study and all that. Keen intellect.'
'George, you don't have to convince me. I think highly enough of her as it is.' He rubbed his cheek. 'We're in Lutetia, she's in Lutetia. She's at the university, we're close by. I'm sure an opportunity will arise.' An opportunity this time, he thought, not a crisis.
'Excellent.' George dusted sugar from his chin. 'She said she'd teach me that shoulder rolling thing, the one where you send an attacker flying through the air.'
'A person of many talents is our Miss Hepworth.'
THE SUMMER MORNING WAS BRIGHT AND SUNNY, WITH A cloudless blue sky welcoming them. The streets were busy with carts, carriages, bicycles and motorcars. Pavements thronged with pedestrians, some ambling along, others walking briskly. Aubrey felt he could tell the tourists from the natives by the velocity of their gait.
As he studied the passers-by, he thought he had another way to pick the local citizens: their garments. By and large, the clothes of the Lutetians were well cut and smart.
The women wore long dresses that were softer and less bulky than the fashion in Albion. Hats were large, often fastened under the chin with a scarf, but they avoided the extravagant feather and flower adornments that always puzzled Aubrey at home.
He paid close attention to the garments the men wore. Suits for the men were trim and comfortable, and it seemed as if the Lutetians had done away with high, starched collars, a trend Aubrey was in favour of. Hats seemed to signify the demeanour of the wearer – jaunty straw boaters, cheery bowlers, as well as more sombre homburgs and even some top hats on the older gentlemen.
The Lutetians wore their clothes with taste and style, often adding a brooch or a silk handkerchief to an outfit to add a touch of individuality. This approach appealed to Aubrey and he made a note to see what he could do in that department.
Having gained directions from Madame Calvert, Aubrey steered their way toward the Central Market. He'd mapped the day carefully; the market was between their apartment and the university.
Aubrey smelled and heard the market long before he saw it. Shouting, cackling, sizzling and braying announced its location, and then he smelled hot food and farm animals. When they turned off the Boulevard of Honesty and saw the market precinct, the assault on the senses was complete.
Rows of stalls stretched out in front of them, with barrows doing their best to push through the mass of people. Most of the customers were laden with bags crammed full of fruit, vegetables, and mouth-wateringly fragrant wrapped packages.
They stood near the base of a monument, an ancient stone cross. George sniffed the air. 'These Lutetians know a thing or two about food.'
'It's a way of life,' Aubrey said. He stood on tiptoes and tried to see over the heads of the crowd. 'Buy some cheese, if you like. Have it sent back to our rooms.'
'Excellent idea. Any preferences?'
'Not for me, thanks, George. I'm making preparations.'
George raised an eyebrow. 'What are you expecting?'
'It's the unexpected I'm preparing for, not the expected.'
'Splendid, old man. What if I take responsibility for buying edibles so you can concentrate on your stuff?'
'Excellent idea.'
In truth, Aubrey wasn't sure what he was after. 'Useful Purchases' was how he thought of this sort of provisioning. With George ploughing a way through the crowd, he ignored the shouts of the stallholders, instead drifting along and letting his gaze roam over the offerings from across Lutetia.
After seeing all manner of fruit, vegetables, cheese, meat and fish, they pushed into the part of the market that was dominated by garment and cloth merchants. He stopped at a stand with second-hand clothes neatly hanging from racks. 'Wait here a moment,' he said to George.
'Certainly. Would you like a peanut?'
George held out a paper bag. The aroma of warm nuts rose from it. 'I didn't see you buy these,' Aubrey said as he took a few. They were fresh, salty and very good.
'You have to be quick around here.' George shook the bag into his hand and then threw the nuts into his mouth.
'So I see. No more left?'
George crumpled the bag in his fist and shook his head. 'Sorry, old man.'
Once Aubrey had inspected the clothes and convinced himself they were clean, he bargained his way into a reasonable price for an assortment of vests, trousers and caps. Then he negotiated a fee to have them delivered to their rooms. The gnome of a stallholder grinned broadly when they were finished and Aubrey realised this was a sure sign he'd paid much more than he needed to.
The stalls became more various. Books, bric-a-brac, flowers, more clothes, second-hand musical instruments – the market was a treasure trove of stuff both useful and useless. Aubrey made some considered purchases, but a number of things he bought on impulse, simply because they caught his eye. Some cheap costume jewellery. Skeins of wool. A tuning fork. A bag of glass beads.
After parting with a handful of coins for a pair of brightly coloured spinning tops, Aubrey took stock.
'Done?' George asked. He was finishing a strawberry ice-cream.
'I think so.'
'So, you're now prepared.'
'If I have to distract a small child while tuning a piano and mending a pullover, I'm all set.'
'Marvellous.' George scratched his nose. 'Promises to be a ripping holiday, this.'
THE BOULEVARD OF WISDOM LED TO THE UNIVERSITY. Intrigued by Lutetia's street names, Aubrey consulted his guidebook. After the revolution in the eighteenth century, Louis Gant, one of the senior committee members, had been fanatical about renaming all the thoroughfares in the city. The old street names were remnants of an oppressive past when the monarchy ruled, and the liberation of the people would only be complete when their addresses were liberated too.
Thus, many streets were renamed after admired revolutionary qualities such as equality or fortitude. The move met with little resistance, particularly since arguing against the reforms of the revolution usually ended up with more names added to the list of those about to be executed for anti-revolutionary sentiments.
Some of the old street names survived, however. Louis Gant's program had faltered after he went on to express the view that cheese was inherently anti-revolutionary and needed to be stamped out. He was quickly promoted to the head of the 'To Be Executed' list and wasn't missed at all.
George kept up an admiring commentary as they strolled, extolling the virtues of the architecture and the young ladies with equal verve. Aubrey, however, had his mind on sorting out his priorities. Which of the multiple demands on his time would he undertake first? He was tempted to try to find the Faculty of Magic for himself, but duty suggested he take on his father's requests first. Then again, locating Dr Romellier for his mother might be straightforward. Or perhaps he should approach the police officer, Inspector Paul, about his grandmother's stolen letters? And while he was there he could inquire about Monsieur Jordan's progress . . .