There was not a rake to be as well-known, or as ill-known as Christopher Fanshawe among all of Oxford students. He was charming for sure- he had an alluring smile, an appealing demeanour, an appearance of an amiable disposition, a face youthful enough to make everyone admire, nay, even worship him. While most of it is true, the real Christopher Fanshawe the future Duke of Everstonshire is far from what he appears to be. Being liked by all enables him to conceal the parts of his life he may not necessarily want to dwell upon.

Clara Waverley decides to take an instant dislike to Christopher Fanshawe. She does not have to make a decision in that direction, for it happens as naturally as clouds may pour rain, or the sea may have waves. Her arrival at Oxford is not be sullen by an image of a man kissing a woman in the middle of the night, and that too, loud enough to let those around him know his present actions. It is, to Clara, the most ungentlemanly behaviour. Victor's actions seem negligible, and forgivable when contrasted with Fanshawe. Still standing with her back to the door in her nightgown, she only hopes for Christopher Fanshawe to have not noticed her peeping through the door. If he demands an audience now, she would have to give it. Time would then be insufficient to change into a man's clothes and look like one.

The only thing she hears, however, is a door being shut. Christopher Fanshawe has retired to his room. This however, irks Clara further, for he did not deem it essential to explain such a scene to the new tenant. Inappropriate behaviour as such must be followed by a clarification. She is displeased at Mrs. Mortimer for having constructed that extra stairway allowing men to engage in sinful acts without notice, and destroy propriety. Being a woman herself, Mrs. Mortimer must ensure that no women may be entertained in a lodging such as hers, and thus their virtue be violated. Clara is aware of the futility of her argument- she is one woman who is lodging at the inn dressed as a man, and there would be none like her. In this situation, the owner would merely do what satisfies men, and a woman's concern's would go unheard. Money, after all, seems to be of prime importance here. Utalitarianism-- something that Clara recently read about and has been hearing about-- seems to be the governing principle of this place. Pleasure has been made the ultimate goal, much to Clara's annoyance.

She decides that, from Mr. Fanshawe, distance must be maintained.

At dawn, Simon departs for Crestwood, leaving Clara all alone in this new city. He reassures her about finding Victor so that her sufferings may end soon. She might however hope for a delay in finding in Victor since it provides her more time alone to discover the world on her own terms. She has already dressed up as Victor, ready to take on anything that might come her way.

When she reaches the upper floor, she witnesses a rather shocking sight. Christopher Fanshawe is at his door, kissing the woman from the previous night, a goodbye. The kiss is not on the cheek, but lips. Clara shuts her eyes at the sight. She grabs the railing tight, and starts moving towards her own room with slow, calculated steps, to not be caught witnessing their act of lovemaking. Unknown to her, such acts as her do not bear a successful fruition, rather, stand a chance to be misinterpreted owing to their circumstances.

"Why would you do that?", comes a rather deep voice belonging to Mr. Fanshawe. His boyish looks and his voice are incompatible in nature, just as much as he and the Victor Waverley standing in front of him would be.

Clara stops in her tracks and opens her eyes. The woman moves towards the stairs and begins descending. Christopher Fanshawe approaches her.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. ..." He looks at Clara imploringly.

"Mr. Victor Waverley." Saying thus, Clara makes her first acquaintance with someone from Oxford. "And I am not pleased to make your acquaintance." She gives a stiff smile to Christopher before entering her room and bolting the door behind her.

Christopher stands outside for a while, largely due to disbelief. For the first time ever, someone has refused to make his acquaintance and get his favours. Being in Christopher's good books may bring numerous advantages is a fact well-known at Oxford. While this has brought much popularity and visibility to him, it has also brought in young boys who seek nothing more than the benefits that come out of being connected to the Fanshawes. True friends, Mr. Fanshawe, surely lacks, except one, a certain Rupert Brown. He retires to his room, for this little new tenant is not what he expected, and definitely not what he seems to be.

*****

Clara decides to embark on a tour of the city before lectures at Oxford commence. She should, at least, know the surroundings where she may have to step out. Sliding a knife into her pocket-- for she may need it-- she bolts her door and leaves Mrs. Mortimer's inn. Upon stepping out of the house, she once again comes to face Mr. Fanshawe, and with a curt acknowledgement of having seen him, she leaves.

Having taken some directions from the footman of Mrs. Mortimer, she makes way towards the lane where bookshops are supposed to be found. There is quite some hustle on the lane for lectures at Oxford are to commence soon and students must buy books. She sees young men from across the country, and hears more than a few dialects, some of which she understands better than the others. She hums to herself, but does so rather quietly. Clara congratulates herself on having entered a world she never fathomed she could, but she did. Victor's Grand Tour is a blessing from the heavens. The lane smells of people, far more than she as Clara has ever known. She realizes that printing presses might not be so far away since the smell of ink reaches her as well.

She stops at a bookstore where she hopes she might find novels too. Upon entering, she is accosted by a young man, who might not be much older than her. He is alone in the store, standing on a ladder in order to stack some books on the top shelf. Upon realizing that he has a customer, he climbs down. "How may I assist you, sir?", he asks.

Clara beams at him. "Do you happen to have novels?"

The man raises one eyebrow curiously. "A young man as you needs novels? Not some philosophical thought? Or polity?"

"Philosophical thought my education at Oxford may provide. Leisure and enrichment of the mind beyond scholastic, practical, and philosophical pursuits, only novels may."

"You appear new here."

"I am to commence my instruction at Oxford this year."

"This would be my final year at Oxford.", he quips. "And so, which novel do you seek?"

"Not one in particular. I would like to peruse through them. I hope you do have them though."

"You came to the right place.", he says, showing her the way to the aisle. "Few booksellers here sell novels. Most of them have books pertaining to the University"

"Then how do you come to keep them?"

He is now leaning against a shelf, his hands folded at his chest. "We have our printing press. We sell what we print."

Clara picks up a novel and turns it in her hand. She sees a small symbol with a name written under it- Schmidt Printers. "Are you not English?"

"Partly, yes. My family has its origins in Austria. My forefathers came to England some fifty years ago. My father married an Englishwoman. I am a half-Englishman."

Clara smiles at him. She picks up three novels and heads towards the counter. The man follows her. "What is your name?", Clara asks him.

"Wilhelm Schmidt. And you are...?" He takes the books from Clara to wrap them in a piece of paper.

"Victor Waverley." She feels uneasy for having lied, but choices are what she lacks. A choice was already made, and she may not bend them according to convenience just becaise she finds this bookseller amiable. The truth, she must withhold. She accepts the parcel from Wilhelm and pays him the amount. "I shall see you at Oxford."

"If I make it, sure." He grins at Clara.

Clara bids him farewell and leaves the shop with a bundle in her hand. She smiles along the way, receiving some curt salutes from men around her. Clara finds this strange. She feels uneasy for she has never had so many men around her. Even though she is dressed as one, they instill in her a sense of fear. In her haste to reach the end of the street, she brushes against a man, who starts calling her out. She glances back, still walking forward, increasing her pace. She bumps against someone, who holds her by her shoulders. The parcel of books which was just now in her hands, is now on the ground. She looks up and finds Christopher Fanshawe staring into her eyes.

"What did you even do to be rushing this way?"

"Nothing." Clara says, freeing herself from Christopher's grip. She picks up the bundle from the ground and dusts it.

Christopher ignores her for a moment and looks at the man who was following her. "Leave, Thomson. Don't scare young boys."

"I shall see him at Oxford, Fanshawe. Your ally shall be my enemy.", says the man Thomson as he walks away furiously.

Clara, who turned back in the course of Christopher and Thomson's short, but heated exchange sees him storm off. She clutches her parcel tighter. She faces Christopher and tilts her head to thank him.

"Why shall you not speak to me?", Christopher asks.

Clara starts walking away, and is followed by Christopher. Men might be dangerous, but a rake is the most dangerous of them all. All books she picked today narrate stories about rakes and their exploits. It is mere curiosity that drove Clara's decision to choose those books. She must know the ways of the person she shares the floor with. Additionally, this man brings women to his bedchamber, which is a far more dangerous act. Wilhelm might have thought of her as an aspiring rake, but that is far from the truth. "Do I need to provide you with one?", she asks Christopher.

"If you will, it would be much better. We are to lodge at the same inn. It would only be better to know each other. We might be of help-"

"I do not know what help you suggest, my Lord, but I assure you, I'll do very well without it. Distance, from many, I seek to maintain."

"Why?"

"May I ask you your reasons for attempting to befriend me?"

"I told you already."

"Your reasons lack ground." Clara comes to a halt and so does Christopher. She turns to face him. "Now, if you would excuse me." She touches her hat and walks away, not allowing Christopher to reciproacte her bow.

Intriguing, mysterious, and secretive- these are the words Christopher might now use for Victor Waverley. This young man surely amuses the rake. He looks forward to what is to come, still feeling that there is more to Victor. What, only time will tell.