Chapter 18 A Visit From Mr Thwaite
The following day brought Simon a letter from the publisher.
He liked the idea very much, and was very honoured to be entrusted with the publication of such an endeavour by a gentleman of noble family.
He was sure it would be a great success, but the artistic nature of the contents and the high cost of the best quality of paper, and the finest binding, as such a prestigious enterprise would require…
and so on and so forth. In short, he wanted Simon to pay the cost of publication himself.
So that was the end of that little scheme.
Simon could not be too downhearted. There were other publishers who might be more obliging, and besides, how could he think of such mundane matters when he was betrothed to his Sophie.
It was not a real betrothal, he knew that, but every morning before breakfast, they met in the little gallery to talk and kiss.
Mostly to kiss, if he were honest. And every day stored up more memories against the dreary day when he would have to leave Staineybank.
The day that brought the publisher’s letter brought another event, of a most unexpected nature. Simon was reading to Juliet in front of the fire in her room when Froggett came in.
“Beg pardon, sir, but there is… a person to see you.”
“A person? What sort of person?”
“A male person, sir. A tradesman, by appearance. He says his name is Thwaite.”
Juliet uttered a squeak. “Oh, Simon! Perhaps he has changed his mind.”
“I know Mr Thwaite,” Simon told the butler. “He is a client of mine.”
Froggett’s face cleared. “In that case, sir, I shall place him in the Blue Parlour.”
“This is such good news!” Juliet said, as soon as Froggett had gone. “Thwaite would not come all this way just to pass the time of day and talk about the state of the roads. He must want to commission one of your designs at last.”
“We shall see,” Simon said neutrally. He no longer had much faith in good news.
Thwaite was standing in the centre of the Blue Parlour, a glass of claret in his hand, gazing at a vast portrait of an ancestral Duchess of Brinshire in a lace-encrusted skirt, with more lace covering her head.
Simon could see why Froggett had mistaken Thwaite for a tradesman, for his clothes were ten years out of date at least, and although the quality was good, they were not such as any gentleman might wear.
“Mr Thwaite! What an unexpected pleasure!”
“Ah, there you are, Payne. Well, this is a right fine house and no mistake. Is this what ye’d build for me, happen I wanted it?”
And the accent, of course. Simon smiled at him. “Something like it, yes. Perhaps not quite such a large house, since you are not a duke yet.”
Thwaite laughed heartily at this little jest. “Not yet, Payne, not yet. Maybe I’ll be a lord, though, before too long.
I’ve had some very gratifying approaches lately, if only—” He stopped, with a sudden frown.
Then, remembering the wine in his hand, he downed the contents in one. “Is this a good wine, would you say?”
Simon refilled his glass. “The duke keeps an excellent cellar. But I am sure you did not come all this way to talk about wine. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, sir?”
“To my conscience, Payne, to my conscience. That letter I wrote you… well, I’m a simple man, not clever, like you, but I deal honestly with folk.
Always have done, and always will. Noted for it, I am.
A man knows that when he deals with Timothy Thwaite, he’ll get a fair deal and no funny business.
And that letter I sent you… it wasn’t honest, and that’s a fact.
I’m not comfortable with it, so I’ve come to explain, on account of it’s best done face to face and not written down. ”
That was so surprising that Simon poured himself a glass of claret, and topped up Thwaite’s glass again. “I am listening, Thwaite. Will you sit?”
“Thank ’ee, but ’tis best said upright, if it’s all the same to you.
When you first came to my notice, Payne, I had every intention of building a house — something suitable to my current position, and a place where the children, who’ve had a proper education and learnt to be fine young ladies and gentlemen, can show off to their fancy friends a bit.
It wasn’t for me, so much. We’ve got the grand house in town, so now I was all for having a fine place in the country, and you were just the man to build it for me, you being an earl’s son, and knowing all about these things. And that was fine for a while.”
He took another gulp of wine, as Simon waited patiently for him to get to the point.
“But then… a man came to see me. Lawyer type, I’m sure you know the sort I mean. Very civil, told me I was being considered for elevation to the peerage — that was how he put it, ‘elevation’. Is that the proper term?”
“It is. Nobles are supposedly higher than commoners.”
“Ha! Well, perhaps, or perhaps not. But this fellow intimated that giving work to you would hinder my elevation. There were those who were prepared to sponsor my elevation, but only if I keep you dangling but don’t actually give you the work.”
“Good heavens!”
“Aye, you might well be surprised. I was myself. But I’ll wager you can’t guess who was behind it?”
“My father,” Simon said at once. “No one else is vindictive enough to play such games against his own son.”
“Well, don’t that beat all! You already know what sort of man your pa is, but then who’d know him better, I suppose?
Quite took me aback, I can tell you, when I eventually found out.
I had no idea for a while, but eventually I got wind of who it was.
And him an earl, too! An honourable, like you, and not a shred of honour in him, in truth. ”
“An earl is addressed as The Right Honourable,” Simon said with a wry smile, “but no, my father has not much honour about him. Very affable to his friends, and despicable to his own family. So your story does not shock me, Thwaite, and you may be sure I bear you no ill-will. I should have enjoyed building your country house for you, but if it cannot be me, I can at least give you a list of others who would do a fine job for you.”
“Well! That’s noble behaviour indeed, sir!” Thwaite said. “I thought at the very least you would rant and rave a bit, and with every justification, but you take it as calm as anything. I salute you, sir.”
“Ah, but you have given me something I have sought these many years,” Simon said, “and that is a reason why I made no progress in my chosen profession. I thought, you see, that it was my own fault — that my designs were inadequate, or my person or temperament gave cause for disgust. But if it was all my father’s doing — I can live with that.
My opinion of him could not be any lower, but my opinion of myself is raised up a little.
So for this boon, I thank you, sir, most sincerely. ”
***
Simon was not inclined to rant and rave, but Juliet was very much minded to do so.
“Do you mean to tell me,” she said, eyes flashing as she abandoned her slumped posture to sit bolt upright, “that all this time our wretched father has been turning off clients and keeping you in poverty? Well! Of all the low-life, despicable, disgusting, abominable, infamous, unbelievably detestable things to do! I have not the words to describe how much I loathe that man!”
After which she found enough words, and with very little repetition, to abuse him soundly for a half hour, at least.
“But what can we do?” she said at length, her railing having wound itself down into no more than intense irritation. “What can we do, if every client can be bribed or blackmailed or cajoled into dropping you?”
“About the clients? Nothing, except to find some who are not afraid of him, perhaps. But I shall tell you what I will do, Juliet. I am going to Edlesborough to confront him, and ask him what he means by it. Do you know what is the worst of it? When I left Edlesborough, he made me promise not to go into society, and not to go to White’s, for I was already a member by then.
In essence, I was not to take my place in society, and meekly I did as I was bade.
I did not want to shame him by letting it be known that there had been a breach between us.
I abandoned my friends from Eton, who might have been some help to me.
I could even have lived in some degree as a gentleman, instead of hiding myself away.
I kept my side of the bargain, and all he did was cut my feet from under me. ”
“I suppose we are lucky he did not take away my little inheritance,” Juliet said.
“He had no power to do so,” Simon said. “The house was Aunt Tabitha’s, and her small amount of money, and when she left all of it to you, her executors were duty bound to see it done. Even our father cannot overturn the majesty of the law.”
“I would not put it past him,” she muttered darkly, making him laugh. “Simon, you are remarkably sanguine about this. You should be outraged. Why are you so calm?”
He laughed again. “Nothing can dent my good humour just now, sister, for I have a pocket full of gold.” That was not the only reason, but there was no need to tell anyone about his secret joy.
“Thwaite cannot commission me to build his house, not without prejudicing his own future, but I persuaded him to recompense me for my time over the last couple of years. Five hundred sovereigns, in gold, if you please, no linen, so nothing traceable. Nothing that my father will ever know about, anyway, and enough to keep us in coal and claret for quite some time, and to pay for a post chaise to Edlesborough. Will you come with me?”
“Me? Go back to Edlesborough, and see that man? I could not! I have avoided him all these years, and that can continue indefinitely as far as I am concerned.”
“You could ask him about your mother.”
“I would not ask any favour of him.”
“Are you not curious to see him?”