and vowed to claim me. If our friendship was to evolve I must accept Sebastian as he is too—intelligent, mischievous, beautiful, and criminal. And so I returned the silent lightning bolts of desire that his eyes fired in my direction. My fingers ached to reach for Sebastian, cup his clean-shaven face, and kiss those full lips until we gasped for breath, but the space between our chairs may as well have been as vast as a canyon. I could not touch him, not in my home with the possibility of discovery.
The mantle clock struck the hour and lost in one another’s eyes, we both near jumped out of our skins.
“Gods, is that the time?” Sebastian announced as he rose from his chair and placed his empty brandy glass on the side table.
“I’m afraid I will have to take your leave… and your clothes! But my dear friend, we shall meet tomorrow evening”.
“We shall?”
“Aye. Remember, you promised me dinner at your club! I’ll be there at seven p.m.” Cavell announced decisively.
I was rather alarmed at the thought of dining publicly with Cavell. “If you would like to dine, we could dine here. Mrs. Twigg is an excellent cook.” I suggested.
“Benedict! Let the poor woman have a night off. And anyway, I’ve always wanted to get my foot inside the door at the Athenaeum Club!”
The Athenaeum
Wednesday 29th December 1897
I found my once quiet and controlled life was suddenly no longer in my control. Cavell had put a spell on me with the offer of friendship, which was alluring enough to make me leave the house after dark. I was to dine with my new ‘friend’ at my club, and so I donned my finest dinner suit and full of nerves, left my house.
At six-thirty p.m. my carriage pulled up outside The Athenaeum Club at number 107 Pall Mall. The building was Neoclassical in style. The grand, meticulous architecture and the design of the interiors were the envy of lesser gentlemen’s clubs. As I passed under the Doric portico I looked up, tipping my hat respectfully to Athena, the gilded statue of the classical goddess of wisdom who kept watch above the entrance.
The Athenaeum private members club was a distinctly male domain, and when I entered the foyer the smell of cigar smoke, coffee, and masculinity that filled my nostrils always girded my loins and made me feel at home. The club was specifically for men with intellectual interests, which suited me very much. I enjoyed many conversations with men of merit in the fields of science, engineering, literature, politics, and the arts, and several of the members had in-turn become my patrons, purchasing art, and furniture from my auction house for their homes. It was near impossible to gain membership to the club nowadays but as a full member, I was permitted to invite a guest to dine with me at the restaurant we called The Coffee Room.
I gave my hat, coat, and cane to the doorman and left the name Mr. Foxford Robins with him to ensure Cavell could enter unmolested. Maybe it was wishful thinking and against my better judgment, but I also reserved one of the bedrooms in case I had a little too much to drink, or required a safe place to escape to. Then I made my way to the drawing room where I would await my guest.
The drawing room was large, with lofty high ceilings decorated in ornate plasterwork relief. It was laid out with comfortable chairs to encourage relaxation and conversation. I paused inside the doorway and saw that this evening the room was occupied by around forty men—politicians, Lords, military men, clergymen, and men of industry. The atmosphere was relaxed and all were doing as they pleased. Some members sat alone with their thoughts; others read a newspaper and smoked a cigar or pipe. Two elderly members slept, their snores counterpointing other members engaging in rambunctious conversations about politics and foreign affairs.
I noted a circle of men in the far corner of the room. They appeared to be paying court to a tall willowy man whom I did not recognize. His face was striking, and as he began to speak his voice rose confidently above all other's voices in the room. His accent was American, which was unusual as our club was a distinctly British affair, and although I did not hear the full extent of his speech, from what I did catch I understood that there was some kind of spiritual aspect to