Chapter 12 #3
“Lady Barclay only need kick her heels in Yorkshire until the courts have officially appointed me as the children’s guardian.
” Bernard had reached this conclusion while staring at a stack of correspondence that might have been written in the language of unicorns, so little did he comprehend or recall of it.
“Huxley, I am accounted a dull fellow. Please explain your thinking, and without reference to law Latin.”
“Jordy has encountered several incidences of bad luck. A fat pony might maintain a trot if compelled to do so, but the creature was unlikely to run away with his rider when summer grass was to be had instead.”
“True, but Jordy still could have been dragged a good way, stepped on, and otherwise banged about.”
“He was banged about some, but suffered no lasting damage. The bellyache was gone within two hours—his second bellyache apparently, there having been a sour stomach at some point adjacent to the fall. This bump on the head will likely be healed within a week. The point is not to injure him, but to prove that he needs a competent guardian, and I am not the right party for the job.”
“The saddle slipped last summer. You weren’t in the picture.”
“But Jordy was already without a guardian of record, the old duke having gone to his reward. Greer might have been nudging the present titleholder to appoint someone, preferably Greer, to that office. Cousin Coraline, all unbeknownst to her adoring spouse, might be trying to make that point. In the alternative, we accord the fat pony the status of an unhappy coincidence or an inspiration.”
A gentleman was not supposed to pace, or Bernard would have worn a path in St. Didier’s lovely carpet.
“If Greer was not responsible for the incident,” Bernard went on, “he was still well aware of it. He might have concluded that repeated instances of Jordy coming to harm would reflect poorly on the duke’s preferred prospective guardian.
I am the problem, in other words, and if Chanderton can be made to view me in a dubious light, then Greer is the logical alternative. ”
St. Didier stared at the fire as if it were a chessboard with all pieces still in play.
“Far-fetched,” he said. “Fanciful, even, except that your theory explains the facts to a nicety. I agree that Coraline might well set these wheels in motion without consulting her spouse, or the two of them might be advancing this scheme together. Still, the whole theory has a castles-in-Spain quality to it.”
No, it did not. It had a makes-perfect-sense quality.
“My theory,” Bernard went on, “also encompasses Coraline recommending an agency that has provided only the most dubious of candidates for the post of governess. To the casual observer, Lady Barclay’s nursery is not well staffed.
Jordy’s tutor, an aspiring scholar with few pedagogic credentials, is also connected to the Greer household.
Entwhistle tutors the young ladies in French.
To say that Jordy’s studies are behind is a charitable characterization of where such a lively little boy’s academics ought to be. ”
“I thought lively little boys and academics were sworn foes from time immemorial.”
No vicar would survive long laboring under that assumption. “Jordy has a lively mind, a lively imagination. He sees sums as a game. He’s a gifted mimic, which is half the battle with foreign languages. Nonetheless, if Chanderton should ask, any report of Jordy’s progress would be discouraging.”
St. Didier settled more deeply in his chair and steepled his fingers.
“Because of the laggardly tutor and the lack of a suitable governess to date. Greer or Coraline could have engineered both situations. You have given this some thought. When presented with an instance of the Quality behaving badly, an examination of the relevant ledgers can be illuminating. Do you have any idea of the state of Greer’s finances? ”
“He has four daughters to launch and a wife determined to be fashionable. Might you look into the particulars?”
“You’d be better off asking your solicitors to do that. That lot hear things one wouldn’t mention behind the door of a confessional.”
Bernard schooled himself to patience for the thousandth time in two days. “If my solicitors, or the Huxley family solicitors, are seen to nose about the Greer family’s finances, what do you suppose the gossips in the clubs would make of it?”
“Dear me. They will assume you intend to court the fair Annette, because Coraline has doubtless intimated as much—very discreetly, of course—to half the women married to the gossips. Right. You’d best leave the nosing about to me, though to be truthful, becoming Jordy’s guardian shouldn’t put Greer any closer to Jordy’s funds. The courts are fussy about that.”
Oh right. The courts. The courts were a reliable source of comfort to exactly nobody.
“I beg leave to differ with you, but money might not be the primary motivator, St. Didier. Greer will become responsible for the heir presumptive to the Chanderton title. Coraline’s status will rise as a result, and her daughters’ prospects will benefit. ”
“Roundabout, but you are right: Guardian to the next duke would matter to Coraline and her sort. One does wonder what exactly went on in that Yorkshire parish of yours. All manner of intrigue, apparently.”
The urge to pace was nigh unbearable. “Most of the mischief was engineered by, and intended to benefit, my very own mother. I was too willing to overlook Lady Josephine’s machinations, too willing to pass them off as the annoying games of a hopeless busybody.
Coraline has much of that Lady Busybody quality, and Greer’s interests coincide with hers. ”
St. Didier slanted a puzzled look at Bernard. “These people are your family, Huxley.”
“Precisely, and Lady Josephine is my mother. She committed multiple felonies simply to keep me from pursuing a new post.”
“So she did. Is the brandy not to your liking?”
“This isn’t the vintage that you served before.”
“Gracious, a parson turned connoisseur. I’m impressed.
I ran out of the other, and Fournier hadn’t any of my usual preferences on hand.
I’m left with the dregs of my cellar. He claimed he would soon be in a position to sell me the most exquisite brandy he had yet encountered in the whole of France. He was very jolly about it.”
“Gallic exaggeration, surely.” Bernard rose, leaving his drink unfinished.
“One other consideration that you may attribute to my churchyard experience: If Greer controls the upbringing of the ducal heir, he will have indirect access to the funds required to raise that heir. Every pony Jordy outgrows must be sold. Every tutor hired on his behalf must negotiate wages. Presumably with Jordy’s guardian. ”
Most definitely with Jordy’s guardian, in fact.
“If Greer was careful,” Bernard went on, “he could make a packet off his ward without touching a penny of the boy’s actual funds.
I would be remiss if I did not mention as much.
When one is in trade, the ledgers are never very far from one’s awareness. ”
When one was in love, one’s beloved was never very far from one’s awareness as well. Bernard’s imagination had never been so busy or so full of worrisome conjectures.
St. Didier got to his feet, taking both glasses to the sideboard. “If Fournier is willing to do business with you, Huxley, your prospects are looking up.”
“So are Monsieur Fournier’s. He’d never heard of your little family operation in the Charente department.
I am not in the business of importing spirits.
He is, and he understands that he owes this new opportunity to you.
You will have a steady supply of good brandy at a bargain price.
The French family will have more revenue, and Fournier will have both more revenue and some delighted customers. ”
“Why do that? Why pass along to an émigré an opportunity that could have been profitable for you?”
The question left Bernard profoundly weary.
“The golden rule is the golden rule, St. Didier, applicable in all contexts, universally sensible and honorable without reference to creed or crown. I am no less answerable to my conscience in a business context than I would be in a cathedral. I could import that brandy, but I’d have to learn an entirely new line of products, deal with a supplier in a foreign country, and find customers in a competitive market.
Better to do a fellow merchant a good turn and know that you’ll be enjoying your preferred nightcap. ”
St. Didier took up the candle snuffer and doused the candelabra on the sideboard. “More vicars ought to go into business, methinks, though who would mind the flocks in their absences?”
“The Lord and Lady Busybodies would give it a good go. I’d best be off. Commerce waits for no man, and I’ve been absent without leave from my desk far too much of late.”
“You’re going to the office at this hour?” St. Didier sounded genuinely horrified.
The pull of unfinished business was relentless, also seductive. “I have an office at the town house. Camden bequeathed me that as well. I’ll look over a few ledgers as a soporific and be that much less behind in the morning.”
Though tomorrow morning, Bernard was to hack out with Sorcha, and not for all the ledgers in the City would he miss that appointment.
St. Didier set aside his snuffer. “Camden would tell you to take a good book to bed with you and forget the ledgers, but far be it from me to keep a man from his medicine.”
“Camden hardly went to bed at all before his baroness got hold of him. Their reports of marital bliss continue unabated.” Short, merry epistles that until recently had been more annoying than informative.
St. Didier led the way to the front foyer, which was illuminated by a single sconce.
“When I hear from Lorne at all, he seems to be very much in charity with the world. How is Lady Barclay taking all this potential family intrigue swirling about her son?”
“She is politely skeptical of my concerns, though not entirely dismissive.” Bernard accepted his greatcoat, leaving it unbuttoned.
The evening air was cool rather than chilly, and a brisk walk was in order.
“She has also given me leave to court her, though we haven’t announced that to the family or the children. ”
Which was fortunate when Bernard and the children’s mama disagreed pointedly on their present best interests.
St. Didier’s expression was hard to read in the shadows. “You are to be congratulated, Huxley. Please believe I mean well when I also caution you to be careful.” He passed Bernard his top hat.
“We will be careful. I am well aware that if Greer is trying to discredit me as a guardian, then for me to marry Jordy’s mama is a long step toward thwarting his plans.”
“If she’ll marry you.” St. Didier handed Bernard his walking stick. “I cannot imagine her ladyship enjoys the prospect of enmity within the family ranks. One should never presume on a lady’s affections.”
When had St. Didier learned that lesson and from whom? “One does not presume, but one does hope for the best. Good night, St. Didier.”
“Be careful, and give my regards to her ladyship when next you see her.”
He held the door, and Bernard passed into the darkness of the spring night.