do some writing first. She sat at a small table, took a quill and parchment, and began.
----
A fter a hearty dinner and a couple of good brandies, Evan readied himself to return to the printing house. He would damn well find out who was behind the obscene literature.
Evan was very well acquainted with the night staff. They were responsible mainly for daily news journals that had to be delivered at first light. The day staff, under Jenkins, dealt more with books and other such literature, which were Evan’s main interests and why he got into the printing and publishing business in the first place. He had nothing against erotic literature, but he didn’t want his business associated with it because it was illegal under the Vagrancy Act of 1824, more specifically its amendment in 1838.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the business. The front door would be locked, of course, since normal business hours were during the day. Though Evan had a key, he chose to go around to the back entrance.
He strode in nonchalantly. “I need to speak with Mr. Charles Gunderson, please.” In actuality, he had never met Gunderson before. All the night staff had been hired by Jenkins and his superior.
“He’s in the back, sir,” a workman said. “May I ask who wishes to speak with him?”
“Lord Evan Xavier. I own this business.”
The young man, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, arched his eyebrows, his lips trembling—only a touch, but Evan noticed.
“Yes, of course, my lord,” he said, his voice shaking. He went into the back room where the presses were rumbling.
A few moments later, the boy returned with an older man greying at the temples.
“Good evening, my lord. What brings you in at this hour?”
Evan cleared his throat. “I did not realize I needed to have a reason to check on one of my own enterprises.”
“Of course not, my lord.”
“I have had word from a reliable source that a piece of underground erotic literature is being printed here on my presses.”
“I don’t know what material you’re speaking of,” Gunderson said, “but I can assure you that any business we do here is completely legitimate. If any erotic literature is being printed here, you have my assurances that it has been properly paid for, and profit is being made.”
“Let me make something clear, Gunderson. I believe in freedom of expression and all that, but I run a clean operation here, not one that prints what some people consider to be obscene. There are laws against that, you know.”
“Let me check the records, my lord. If we have any clients who are printing material of that nature, what would you like me to do?”
“Cancel the contracts, of course.”
Evan said the words, but in no way did he believe that there was a contract with his business to print such literature. This was going on under the table, and he had a feeling Gunderson knew all about it. Jenkins seemed to be in the clear because he had clearly not warned the night staff that Evan had made inquiries. Whatever was going on, Evan would find out about it and put a stop to it.
“I think I’ll take a look around back and see what’s going to print tonight,” Evan said.
“Absolutely, my lord. The morning journal is about to go to print in a few hours. They haven’t sent over the final copy yet. Right now we’re finishing up a pamphlet printing for the ladies’ garment store on Orchard.”
“Excellent,” Evan said. “I’d like to take a look for quality control. If you could please show me around, I would appreciate it.”
During his tour through the presses, Evan found nothing to indicate that anything untoward was going on. However, something did not sit right with him. Either Gunderson or someone who worked under him was lying. He could feel it in his gut. He had become the businessman he was not only because of his business sense, but also because of his gut instinct. He had learned to trust it.
“Thank you,
----
A fter a hearty dinner and a couple of good brandies, Evan readied himself to return to the printing house. He would damn well find out who was behind the obscene literature.
Evan was very well acquainted with the night staff. They were responsible mainly for daily news journals that had to be delivered at first light. The day staff, under Jenkins, dealt more with books and other such literature, which were Evan’s main interests and why he got into the printing and publishing business in the first place. He had nothing against erotic literature, but he didn’t want his business associated with it because it was illegal under the Vagrancy Act of 1824, more specifically its amendment in 1838.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the business. The front door would be locked, of course, since normal business hours were during the day. Though Evan had a key, he chose to go around to the back entrance.
He strode in nonchalantly. “I need to speak with Mr. Charles Gunderson, please.” In actuality, he had never met Gunderson before. All the night staff had been hired by Jenkins and his superior.
“He’s in the back, sir,” a workman said. “May I ask who wishes to speak with him?”
“Lord Evan Xavier. I own this business.”
The young man, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, arched his eyebrows, his lips trembling—only a touch, but Evan noticed.
“Yes, of course, my lord,” he said, his voice shaking. He went into the back room where the presses were rumbling.
A few moments later, the boy returned with an older man greying at the temples.
“Good evening, my lord. What brings you in at this hour?”
Evan cleared his throat. “I did not realize I needed to have a reason to check on one of my own enterprises.”
“Of course not, my lord.”
“I have had word from a reliable source that a piece of underground erotic literature is being printed here on my presses.”
“I don’t know what material you’re speaking of,” Gunderson said, “but I can assure you that any business we do here is completely legitimate. If any erotic literature is being printed here, you have my assurances that it has been properly paid for, and profit is being made.”
“Let me make something clear, Gunderson. I believe in freedom of expression and all that, but I run a clean operation here, not one that prints what some people consider to be obscene. There are laws against that, you know.”
“Let me check the records, my lord. If we have any clients who are printing material of that nature, what would you like me to do?”
“Cancel the contracts, of course.”
Evan said the words, but in no way did he believe that there was a contract with his business to print such literature. This was going on under the table, and he had a feeling Gunderson knew all about it. Jenkins seemed to be in the clear because he had clearly not warned the night staff that Evan had made inquiries. Whatever was going on, Evan would find out about it and put a stop to it.
“I think I’ll take a look around back and see what’s going to print tonight,” Evan said.
“Absolutely, my lord. The morning journal is about to go to print in a few hours. They haven’t sent over the final copy yet. Right now we’re finishing up a pamphlet printing for the ladies’ garment store on Orchard.”
“Excellent,” Evan said. “I’d like to take a look for quality control. If you could please show me around, I would appreciate it.”
During his tour through the presses, Evan found nothing to indicate that anything untoward was going on. However, something did not sit right with him. Either Gunderson or someone who worked under him was lying. He could feel it in his gut. He had become the businessman he was not only because of his business sense, but also because of his gut instinct. He had learned to trust it.
“Thank you,
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