Authors: Anna Freeman
‘You are in good humour this morning, Perry. Glad I am to see it.’
‘It is a good morning, is it not? Listen, George, I wonder if you’d be good enough to assist me.’ He leant forward, the piece of kidney upon his fork dripping gravy onto the cloth.
‘Of course, old friend. I am at your service, as ever.’ I am not ashamed to admit that I expected some repetition of the threats of the night before, veiled in jest.
‘I wondered if you might go over to Ashton, to look at a horse I’ve a mind to buy.’
The relief was such that I said, ‘Certainly, I shall!’ far louder than I intended.
‘Then you shall have my gratitude,’ Perry said. ‘You have shown your aptitude for the choosing of horses.’
I would not rise to it.
‘You may put your faith in me, sir. As always.’
‘As always,’ Perry said, but there was a challenge in his eye.
I rode out with a smile upon my lips and rode back with my mouth framing curses. The fellow at Ashton said only to me,
‘I must say I’m surprised to see you, sir. I told Mr Sinclair I’d not have any beasts worth seeing till Tuesday next.’
I turned poor Blackbird around without a moment’s rest, though I’d ridden two hours to get there and must ride the same to get home.
My imagination grew wilder with every hoof beat – what was the dastard planning for me? Perry had schemed to keep me away and he had not even troubled that I should not know it. Would I arrive back to find Miss Sinclair locked away, or the doors barred against me? He wouldn’t stoop so low as to harm her, surely? He wouldn’t fulfil his old threat to harm himself?
My threadbare nerves wore out before I reached Aubyn and a kind of exhaustion set in. I should not have cared a jot if I never saw another Sinclair again.
Upon riding into the yard, however, my feelings turned again; there was a strange chaise there. Perry had a visitor. I should have liked to come upon Perry by surprise, but nothing could ever be kept secret at a house like Aubyn. At that very moment the butler would be announcing my arrival. So desperate was I to gain what little element of surprise I could over my friend that I went straight to the library in my greatcoat, my boots still fouled with mud.
I came upon a footman in the hall and ran past him, though he called out to me. Up the stairs I went, to burst, unannounced, into the library.
There was Perry upon the settee, close beside a young gentleman with hair cut into a waxed Bedford crop, both of them as guilty as cracksmen. Before them was a decanter of wine, almost emptied, and two half-drunk tumblers. They were both of them very pink about the face. There was a perfume I did not recognise in the air, belonging to the young fellow, no doubt. Perry held a snuff box in one hand and seemed to have been about to offer it when I came upon them. For a moment I could not take in the scene, so full had I been with conspiracies and murder. Here was the simplest betrayal of all; Perry had repaid me, like for like. I could not speak for a moment but only stood and huffed at them like a sweating horse.
‘Ah, George, this is Mr Prince. Mr Prince, George Bowden.’
I put up my hand to smooth my hair and found it disordered. Perry would never usually miss an opportunity to mock me. Mr Prince stood and came toward me, with a smile as heartbreaking as his name would suggest. His coat was exquisitely tailored, his cravat perfectly arranged. His handshake was a firm one. God alone knew where Perry had found him; the cove was as fine a dandy as I had ever seen. I could not tell if he knew what nest of vipers he came to make his home amongst. If he was aware of his situation he was unruffled by it.
‘A great pleasure to meet you, Mr Bowden.’ He gave me a bow and I am sure I returned it.
‘Come in, George, for the love of God.’ Perry seemed to be enjoying himself damnably.
I refused to turn and run; I went over to the fire and stood before it to warm my hands and gather my thoughts. Mr Prince’s footsteps behind me returned to the settee. I heard the sigh of the upholstery as he regained his seat and the glug of the wine being poured. I heard Perry ring the bell for the servant.
Damn his eyes
, I thought,
what does he mean by it?
Was I truly to be usurped, or was this a punishment only, meant to return some of the pain I had inflicted upon him? I could do nothing but compose my face and behave in a manner gentle enough to rival Mr Prince. I turned and walked to a winged chair opposite the two of them. I could feel the flesh of my jaw twitch.
The footman appeared and Perry called for more wine and another glass for me. I took off my greatcoat as gracefully as I could, and the footman took it from me with not a quiver of surprise that I should have worn it upstairs. Mr Prince made some pleasant enquiry about the comfort of my ride and I replied, in as merry a voice as I could muster, that it had been tolerably pleasant.
‘Then let us continue the pleasantries,’ Perry clapped his hands, ‘and invite Mr Prince to dine. I expect no small enjoyment this evening. Do not you, George?’
‘I am sure we shall all be very merry,’ I said.
‘I am positive that you are right, my old friend,’ Perry fixed me with a gaze already glassy with wine. ‘You are always right, in both thought and deed.’
At that moment I could have taken my boot to his face.
The dinner hour found us arranged around the table thusly: Perry seated beside Mr Prince and opposite me, and Mr Prince facing Miss Sinclair. I had thought at first that she would not come down. The three of us were waiting for her at least a quarter of an hour before she deigned to descend. I could see Mr Prince regarding her with an expression of faint surprise; he had expected someone livelier.
The broiled mackerel was brought. Perry barely glanced at the dish before he called for more wine. He took the decanter from the butler’s hand and insisted on pouring a generous dose for each of us, even Miss Sinclair, who quivered in silent protest.
Mr Prince said, ‘You must find great joy in the gardens here, Miss Sinclair. What I have seen appears charming.’
I could not look at her. I caught Perry’s eye purely by mistake; his look was a black one. For a moment the full extent of his displeasure showed hellfire in his eyes and then he snuffed it out and turned his eyes to his sister.
‘I should think all places have their own charms,’ was all Miss Sinclair said. Her voice was so soft as to be barely audible.
‘You have no basis for comparison.’ Perry drained his glass and waved for more. ‘My sister is entirely unworldly, Mr Prince.’
‘An admirable quality in a young lady.’
‘Perhaps you are right. And yet, a little knowledge of the ways of the world might be considered prudent. My dear sister would not, I daresay, be able to determine the attentions of a true gentleman from those of a rogue playing at chivalry.’
‘You speak of your duty of protection, I think,’ Mr Prince said.
‘I do,’ Perry replied.
‘It is a man’s duty to protect and guide the fairer sex,’ Mr Prince said, ‘and of course you must feel the need for vigilance. But I cannot think that any harm could befall Miss Sinclair under such watchful patronage as yours.’
‘I do hope not,’ said Perry, who could not have told you the whereabouts of his sister for days at a time. ‘I am fearful passionate on the subject. I should not hesitate to run a fellow through with my sword, should I detect a hint of trespass.’
‘You begin to sound like Macbeth,’ I said, ‘seeing shadows where there are none. Can we not be tranquil?’
‘And you, I suppose, become Banquo?’ Perry said. ‘But you are right, my old friend. Tranquillity is my dearest wish; I would sacrifice almost all I own to gain it. The bloodiest wars are fought to bring peace.’
I grew tired after that, and drained my own glass.
Dinner progressed; Perry grew more loquacious and less subtle the more wine he quaffed. Miss Sinclair barely ate and did not speak. I, too, grew sullen and did not attempt any longer to interrupt Perry’s sermonising. Mr Prince responded to Perry’s inanities with smiles but I thought he began to have the look of someone soothing a troublesome invalid. I recognised myself in his manner, if I am truthful. I was spitefully glad; he could hardly admire Perry now. Whatever chance of revenge my friend had engineered was spilt with the wine that spread a yellow stain about his place, like the bed linen of an incontinent. When Miss Sinclair withdrew I thought she would have picked up her skirts and bolted like a horse, had convention permitted. I had never before wished to be a lady.
The brandy was produced, our pipes lit. The gentle protests of Mr Prince were entirely ignored as Perry served him a portion of the brandy hefty enough to set any man reeling. He helped himself to the same. He seemed to forget entirely to serve me; I helped myself to a modest amount.
‘I have had the blue room made ready for you,’ Perry said, placing one hand upon Mr Prince’s shoulder. Mr Prince did not drop his smile but I thought it acquired an edge.
‘You are most kind but I think I will be obliged to return home this night. I have much to attend to in the morning.’
‘Oh, I am most disappointed.’ Perry did not remove his hand. ‘Can we not persuade you?’
Mr Prince shifted slightly so that Perry’s hand fell back to his side.
‘Regretfully, no,’ he said.
I could have laughed aloud.
Perry must have sensed my mirth for now he looked at me as though he wished I might fall down dead upon the spot. He shrugged, drained his glass and seemed to forget us both in favour of the bottle, pouring liquor only for himself and staring past me into the fire. His lips moved slightly as though he muttered or cursed beneath his breath.
I was left in the unpleasant position of making conversation with the cuckoo in our nest.
‘Are you fond of gaming, Mr Prince?’ I tried.
‘I confess I try to avoid it, Mr Bowden. Not, you know, through any piety on my part, but rather I fear my own weakness. Lead me not into temptation.’
‘Ha!’ Perry said.
Mr Prince ignored him. ‘Perhaps it is why I went into law,’ he said instead. ‘In law, you know, the way is clearly set out and all we must do is follow.’
‘I studied law for a time,’ I said. ‘I never had any aptitude for it.’
‘You could not follow the law if it led you on a rope,’ Perry said.
Perry rang the bell for the butler and ordered more brandy to be brought. He was gathering himself for some undignified outburst; it hung in the room like fog.
‘Well,’ Mr Prince rose and bowed. ‘I think I must take my leave of you gentlemen. Thank you so much for you company. Do bid farewell to Miss Sinclair on my behalf.’
Perry roused himself enough to make a polite goodnight, at least.
In my own mind a thought had raised its disloyal head.
‘I will accompany you out,’ I said.
Perry looked up but his look was a bleary one and he did not protest, nor offer to accompany us.
We walked out to the yard.
I said, ‘I confess I had a motive for coming out, Mr Prince.’
Mr Prince nodded as though to say, of course.
‘It is a theoretical question, I suppose. I was wondering what it might take to alter the agreed inheritance of an estate. If the beneficiary should displease the family in some grievous manner.’
‘By marrying someone of whom the family could not approve, for instance?’
‘Exactly so. Can the instructions of a will be ignored, in such a circumstance?’
‘Do not think me too bold, sir,’ Mr Prince said, ‘but I think I know your meaning. Mr Sinclair and I have begun the process this evening, in fact. In the case of an elopement or other grave injury to the family’s reputation the entailment can very easily revert to the nearest male Sinclair – a cousin, I believe.’
‘Ah,’ I said.
‘These things are better halted before they begin, of course,’ he said.
‘Yes, indeed,’ was all I could muster.
Mr Prince climbed up onto the seat of the chaise.
‘A pleasure meeting you, Mr Bowden. If I may make a general observation, it is a fact often overlooked that an elopement or similar rash act can be quite as detrimental to the fortunes of a young gentleman as to a young lady. All in such a case must be cautious.’
‘Of course, very wise,’ I said. The cove was looking at me with something akin to pity.
‘Well, goodnight,’ he said.
‘Goodnight, go well,’ I replied and watched him drive that pretty little chaise out of the yard, taking a good portion of my hopes with him.
6
I
did not return to Perry’s company that night. I contemplated my future in earnest; it was not an enjoyable experience. I began seated at the window, then moved myself to the chair beside the fire. Then I found I could not sit and paced about the room. Then I sat once more, only to leap up again and begin my restless walk anew.
Perry had seen all that I was about and he had trumped me. I had to admit defeat. Oh, I knew that I could go to Miss Sinclair and beg her to run to Gretna Green. I could have her Mrs Bowden within three or four days. If I were to do that we should be poor as church mice with only my allowance to live on and no home besides. I had lost or spent every penny I had made from Perry’s investments. No, I did not love Miss Sinclair enough to live with her in poverty, and without Perry’s companionship.
I had set my heart on Miss Sinclair largely because she was Perry’s sister. Perry and I had been side by side since we were boys of ten years old. He might have been a drunkard, and a jealous man besides, but he was mine as much as I was his. We were bound by blood, more than soldiers. Who else on earth cared for me as Perry did?
The following day, coward that I was, I avoided both Sinclairs until the dinner hour, when I knew that Granville was to join us. I hoped that his company would provide a mitigating influence.
I made a great effort to appear in good spirits at table and talked amiably to Granville and Perry of boxing and business. I barely spoke to Miss Sinclair. I tried not to smile when she caught my eye, and was relieved to note that although I felt a tug at the loss of her, it was not an unbearable one. In contrast, when I imagined Perry lost to me – even while he glowered at me from beneath those pale lashes – I knew I should feel a worse pain. He was as a part of myself. No lady could hope to fill the void if he were gone.
Perry, of course, had no idea that I had resolved to cleave to him. He was not in good humour and grew even more sauced than was his habit. He ate but little and pressed the wine upon Granville and myself with an insistence that left little room for refusal.
Granville could not have been blind to Perry’s mood. For his part he tried to lighten the atmosphere by telling Miss Sinclair of a ship he had invested in, lately returned with a good profit from the sugar islands.
‘Only imagine where the ship has been,’ he said. ‘The birds there have the brightest feathers, though I have heard tell that their song is not as sweet as the birds one finds in England.’
Miss Sinclair flushed to be spoken to. She seemed about to reply, when Perry growled, ‘What good is a song sweetly sung, when its words are falsehoods?’ He fixed me with his eye and seemed to believe himself the lord of subtlety.
‘There are some birds who can speak words, are there not,’ I said, addressing Granville. ‘Parrots, of course, and I believe some others.’
‘I have seen a parrot,’ Miss Sinclair said quietly, ‘at St James’ Fair, when I was a girl. We fed him peanuts.’
‘And did he speak?’ Granville asked her kindly.
I could feel Perry readying to say something and studiously avoided his gaze.
‘He said, “Barrel of rum”,’ Miss Sinclair said, ‘and “Ho there, my beauty”.’
‘He would not say so to you now,’ Perry said. ‘Likely he would mistake your countenance for a bag of peanuts and peck you to death.’
He laughed and drained his glass. Then the humour of the thing struck him anew and he very nearly choked. I am sure I was not the only diner who felt sorry for an instant that he did not.
Miss Sinclair started a little and bowed her head, but she did not cry. I appealed silently to Granville. He only stared back at me, shocked by my own ungallant silence. Of course he could not understand why I held my tongue. At last he determined to pretend that Perry had not spoken.
He turned instead to Miss Sinclair and said, ‘Your parrot sounds a fine fellow. I have a book at home, with the most wonderful engravings of exotic birds. I shall bring it for you, perhaps, the next time I come to dine.’
Miss Sinclair managed to thank him and we ate the rest of the course in near silence. She did not look up again for the rest of the meal and even when she stood she bid us stay seated with lowered eyes.
Miss Sinclair having withdrawn, we took a glass of rum. Perry, clod-handed, over-filled our glasses so that we could not lift them gracefully to our mouths without a spillage.
With Miss Sinclair absent, the mood in the dining room grew pleasanter and the subjects returned to those that gentlemen most enjoy: business, boxing and gaming. I took care to reply admiringly to every observation Perry offered, until at last he grew soft enough to announce, ‘There is nothing that can so much set me at my ease as the company and conversation of gentlemen.’
Granville and I nodded and harrumphed in the affirmative.
‘It is a curious thing,’ Perry continued, ‘that in this day and age, when so many advancements are being made, we should still find ourselves plagued by the company of females.’
‘Ho, sir,’ said Granville, ‘here I must disagree. A lady may not be a gentleman’s equal in conversation, but she is not designed to be. I myself take great pleasure in the simplicity and innocence of the feminine mind.’
‘Simplicity?’ Perry said. ‘I could not describe any lady of my acquaintance so. They all scheme to catch a husband and take over every inch of his home. When they have done so on their own behalf they scheme on behalf of others of their sex.’
‘Ah,’ Granville said, ‘here we find the crux of the matter; to you, sir, a lady seems to do you harm by seeking to attach herself, and to me she bestows the greatest favour.’
‘Even with your sweet mistress,’ I said, ‘do you wish to marry?’
‘I do,’ Granville said, ‘and as soon as I find a young lady sensible enough, I shall.’
‘If good sense is your ambition you may be searching long,’ Perry said. ‘I advise you get a dog and be satisfied. A dog, you know, is always loyal.’
He bent to scratch the ears of the hound sprawled beside his chair. He graced me with another glower; evidently all this talk of marriage was rekindling his own ideas of my betrayal.
Soon enough we retired to the library and settled to a game of cards just as we had as boys at school, with only objects admissible as wagers; a gentleman could not hazard a guinea, but was welcome to lay down a pen, or a watch.
We played so long, and drank so heartily, that there came a time when Perry had been stripped of possessions and his pocket emptied. Granville had taken it all, and good use might he put it to, having so few handsome things ever about him. At last he said that Perry might have a chance to win it all back, if he would only put up his chestnut mare as a stake against them all.
‘Wager Fleet?’ Perry said. ‘I cannot, good sir.’
‘What, are you so fond of the beast then?’ Granville said. ‘I am surprised at you. Can it be that there is one female creature for whom you profess an attachment?’
‘Pish,’ I said, ‘he cannot wager his horse because he does not own her. I won the animal from him yesterday and only allow Perry to ride her out of charity. I have owned every horse in his stable at one time or another, but he drives them just the same.’
Perry snorted. ‘Charity, my eye. There is no charity in it. When George wins a horse of mine I continue to shoulder the cost of it and stable his own mount besides. Do not you forget that.’
‘Be that as it may,’ I said, ‘it seems you are lost, Perry. Granville has stripped you bare, unless you wish to pillage the rest of the house?’
‘That will not do,’ Granville said, ‘unless Perry has a mare in his dressing room. I am interested in giving you one chance, to win back all you have lost. Surely you have something of good value you can hazard. I will take any good horse you can vouch for. You have a stable full of the creatures, do you not?’
Here Perry’s expression grew thoughtful. After so much liquor his eyes, usually so clear, sat in pools of moisture, like winkles from a barrel.
‘I do have one thing of great worth to lay before you,’ he said.
‘Pray, fetch it out,’ Granville said.
‘I do not need to fetch it, for I hold it here,’ Perry pounded a fist against his breast.
‘By Jove, Perry,’ I said, ‘do not tell us you mean your honour as a gentleman, or some such intangible? Surely you are not brought so low?’
‘No,’ said Granville, ‘I believe it will be the secret to eternal youth. Come, sir, tell us that you are many thousands of years old, and give me the recipe for your potion.’
‘Dash it all, I mean no such thing,’ Perry said, ‘though it is an intangible, perhaps. I mean to wager the hand of my sister, Charlotte. Upon my honour, Granville, if you best me this time, you shall call me brother.’
‘Ridiculous!’ Granville said.
Perry did not reply, but fixed me with a slightly unfocused eye. I looked back at him, though my own vision swam a little.
‘Ridiculous, sir? How so?’ I said, my eyes upon Perry’s. ‘She will make you a good wife.’ I had taken so much rum that I felt nothing; neither relief nor pain. We might indeed have been discussing Fleet.
‘The hand of Miss Sinclair? How could you promise such a thing? Only she could bestow it, and she has never showed the least sign of wishing it.’
‘My sister will do as she is bid,’ Perry said. ‘She must marry someone, and you seem to me as good a gentleman as any. Perhaps a better man than I, or Mr Bowden, might hope to be.’
‘This is most unorthodox, sir,’ Granville said. ‘I cannot accept.’
Perry leant close enough to Granville that he was forced to move back, or feel Perry’s damp breath upon his face.
‘You must accept,’ he said, putting his strong hand upon Granville’s smaller one, ‘I insist upon it. It is an advantageous match for you, this you must concede. She is far above you in station, if not as handsome as she was. She will have a dowry, of course. You will find me willing to negotiate terms.’
‘She is a very pleasing young lady,’ Granville turned his head to the side as Perry leant closer still, ‘but I could never think to impose myself upon her in such a way.’
‘Damn it, man, you will take her!’ Perry cried, far too near to Granville’s face.
Granville stood, as dignified as could be. He brought out a handkerchief and wiped his cheek. I put a hand upon Perry’s arm but he behaved as though I were not there, even when I pulled at him.
‘Come, dear Mr Dryer,’ Perry said. ‘You do not need to play for her. She is yours. You said you wish to marry, and now you shall.’
Granville was carefully placing all the objects he had gained back upon the table. I hastily fumbled in my pocket and withdrew the silver visiting-card holder I had taken from him earlier. I held it out and he accepted it from me with grave courtesy. Perry slumped back into his seat and informed Granville and me that we might both go to the devil.
I saw Granville to the door and into the hall beyond. As the valet fetched his overcoat I said, ‘He will doubtless be ashamed on the morrow.’ I was not at all sure if I spoke truthfully.
‘Tell me, George,’ Granville said, ‘I have had her acquaintance for years and yet I could not call myself familiar with Miss Sinclair. Do you find her to be foolish or overly fond of frivolities?’
It was only in that moment that a pain set itself about my heart.
‘On the contrary,’ each word dropped heavy from my lips, ‘she has a most retiring nature.’
‘Then please, offer my apologies to Perry for departing so abruptly. Tell him I shall call on him tomorrow and if he should be remorseful, he may recant his offer himself.’
With that he bid me goodnight. I stood in the hallway until the butler came to enquire if I needed anything. I waved him off and slowly made my way back to the library. Once there I found that Perry had swept everything off the table and was drinking straight from the decanter.
I spent an unhappy breakfast and did not speak at table. Miss Sinclair, always quiet, would not break the silence but only looked at me sometimes with a questioning gaze. I ate quickly and spent the rest of the day at Perry’s desk, staring blankly at the list of accounts. Perry, when he finally rose, said nothing of the matter to me and I did not tell him that we might later expect Granville.
Perry spent the morning by the library fire, gazing into the flames with an intense expression, as though trying to divine the secret of their heat. He was in an ill humour and long before the dinner hour the strong liquors had been begun. He did not proffer the decanter and nor did I express a wish to join him.
When the butler announced Mr Dryer’s presence Perry looked up in surprise and then turned triumphant eyes to me.
‘You misjudge me,’ I said. ‘I advised him to accept.’ I walked from the room.
I heard Granville admitted to the library and Perry’s loud voice, although I could not make out what was said. I returned to my chamber, surprising the chambermaid sweeping the grate. I sent her from the room and sat upon the bed, feeling like a foolish coward and unable to think of where I should go or, if I should return, how it might be gracefully done. Before long the dilemma was solved for me by the arrival of the butler, saying that Perry had asked that I join himself and Granville, if I so pleased. Here was my test. I went down immediately, pausing only to smooth my hair. Outside the library door I paused again to affix a smile to my face.
I opened the door and cried out, ‘Well, am I to offer my congratulations?’
Granville came toward me and took my hand.
‘Not yet, perhaps, but soon. That is my hope, at least.’
‘I am sure you will be accepted, old friend.’ The sincerity in my voice surprised even me. ‘She would be a fool to reject you. She will not, indeed.’
Behind Granville, Perry looked at me with something of his old warmth.
‘Let us call for spiced rum,’ he said, ‘it is your particular favourite, is it not, George?’
‘We should call for whatever Granville wishes,’ I said. ‘It is his celebration.’
‘It is celebration enough to have the company of my two oldest friends,’ Granville said.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Perry pulled the bell for the butler. ‘For God’s sake, George, come in and sit down!’