Yearn by Tobsha Learner Page A

ceremonies, so to speak?”
    â€œI will be directing the movements of the ritual,” D’Arcy replied cautiously, settling on the word
movements
because of the musical connotation, and thinking of the ritual as a benign symphony somehow gave the whole notion a dignified legitimacy. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his last ten crowns. “See this as a deposit.” He held out the crowns. Finally Prudence’s fingers closed around the money. “The rest we get on the night?”
    â€œGentleman’s word.”
    â€œWell,” the prostitute said, sliding the money into the large purse she always kept hanging off her belt, “at the very least it will be an education. And I’m always looking for original ways to educate meself. I think this new girl Amelia has talent. She’s very pretty and has an enthusiasm for the theatrics. Just tell me the time and place and what we should be wearing and I promise prompt and professional service, as always, Mr. D’Arcy,” she concluded with a tiny flick of her very pink tongue.
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    The young sweep glanced about the private garden square, then slid closer to D’Arcy on the park bench. “You mean to say that we will all spoon together for the sake of . . .’ow would you call it . . . magic?” His voice was a tense mixture of incredulity and excitement.
    D’Arcy stared out at the small pond, upon which a drake was strutting his prowess to a disinterested mate. If only his life was as uncomplicated as that of the lusty drake. Swallowing his own nervousness, he mustered up the last of his resolve. “It is more in the pursuit of a native science, young Harry, and I will be following the words of the diary to the last letter.”
    â€œAnd these are definitely the words of the great man himself?”
    â€œAbsolutely; I have verified both the handwriting and Banks’s very turn of phrase. It is indisputably his reportage. You have made a great find, and I shall see to it that you are mentioned in my book.”
    â€œAn honor, sir, but I was hoping for a more fiscal kind of reward. . . .”
    â€œIndeed, and I will, naturally, pay you well for partaking in our little secret ritual.”
    â€œHow well?”
    D’Arcy knew he would not be able to borrow more than the sum of sixty crowns and already his expenses were mounting up. Disheartened, he ran through a mental inventory of all his assets, attempting to calculate which he could more or less happily part with. Finally he arrived at an old set of pewter drinking mugs he had inherited from his grandfather. At least one hundred years old, it was safe to assume they might be of value to the pawnbroker. “I was thinking of the sum of fifteen crowns?” he ventured, assuming the young man’s services might be worth less than the professional Prudence as, he reasoned, another man might actually be willing to pay as opposed to being paid to be included in such a venture.
    â€œI’m in. Harry is always one to mix pleasure with commerce,” the chimney sweep retorted swiftly, winking and licking his lips as he broke into a broad smile. “As long as I’m back at the chimneys by nine the next morning.”
    â€œNine? Oh, I can get you back to London well before nine—after all, the whole ritual climaxes at the crack of dawn. Then we all go our separate ways. . . .”
    â€œI’m rather looking forward to it. Very titillating, Mr. Hammer, even if I say so meself, making love and making history! Something to tell the grandchildren, I daresay.”
    â€œSomething you cannot ever tell of, sir. Unless you wish to condemn both of us to both notoriety and prison,” D’Arcy snapped back firmly.
    â€œI was joking, Mr. Hammer. I am as discreet as a monk in a nunnery. As far as I’m concerned, as soon as it’s over it never