Page 33 of A Gentleman’s Offer
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Not for the first time since her arrival in London, Meg cursed the restrictions that her age, unmarried status and position in society placed on her movements. She told her sympathetic audience of one that it was immensely frustrating to be so constrained by propriety, and not at all what she was accustomed to. She was excessively tired of being obliged to have almost all life’s important discussions al fresco, and wondered if the haut ton was even now whispering about her conduct. For herself, she went on to say, she wouldn’t have cared what people thought of her, but Maria simply could not afford to gain a reputation for eccentricity – not when her private conduct would bear so little scrutiny by the censorious and her future remained so uncertain. But where to meet her brother was a puzzle.
It was obviously impossible to ask Francis to call on her at their father’s house – the world would not think it in the least odd, but Lord Nightingale certainly would if he came to hear of it, and he was almost always at home in the daytime, though closeted in his library, which his female relatives were forbidden to enter. It did not feel safe to have such a conversation with him present in the building; the thought of being the cause of an accidental encounter between father and son in the entrance hall, before she had had a chance to speak properly with Francis, made her feel quite cold and sick.
Although it ought surely to be unexceptionable for a young lady to call innocently upon her brother at his lodging, apparently it was not, unless she was accompanied by a parent or some other older relative. A gentleman’s lodging house, it seemed, such as the one in St James’s Street that Meg had heard that Mr Nightingale inhabited, was a scandalous, tainting sort of a place in and of itself. Such a den of iniquity was not to be entered by a young lady without very visible and efficient chaperonage to preserve her fragile virtue. A maid would not do; maids could be so easily bribed. Meg thought of asking her aunt to accompany her, but swiftly discarded the idea. Mrs Greystone was surely respectable enough for anyone, but the outing was unusual, and would entail explanations. If those explanations were at all honest, they would provoke a return of spasms and palpitations and complete nervous collapse. Nobody wanted that.
Sir Dominic told her that his escort to Francis’s residence – though he was perfectly willing to give it – would make matters worse rather than better. He explained that it might be thought by anyone who observed such an unconventional visit that Francis was in some manner colluding at a private meeting between his sister and her fiancé from which he would, naturally, immediately absent himself. When Meg understood what he was implying, she said hotly, ‘It seems to me that the people of the haut ton have all of them extraordinarily filthy imaginations! They could with advantage find other ways to fill their precious time, rather than spend it in putting the worst possible construction on every harmless encounter!’
Sir Dominic appeared to be amused, saying, ‘They – I will not say we, for I have always prided myself on the elevated tenor of my mind, you know, Meg, even before I fell under your good influence – do have such an enormous amount of leisure time, and so very little to fill it. Such is their cruel fate, butterflies that they are rather than worker bees. Gossip is highly useful in that regard, and the thing about gossip, of course, is that it doesn’t need to be true, or even remotely credible, to be believed. One might even say, the more outlandish it is the better, for people will enjoy spreading it about so much more, and it will have all the success of novelty. So it really is better not to risk it unless we are absolutely devoid of any other alternative.’
They found themselves at a standstill until Sir Dominic proposed that his mother could help, if he informed her that he needed her assistance to get to the bottom of the blackmail she was enduring. It was perfectly permissible for him to take his betrothed to visit his parent, so that they might take tea together in an unexceptionable fashion. And if Mr Nightingale should happen to call in Clarges Street shortly afterwards, why, Francis was a close member of one of the two families which would quite soon be joined, the bride’s own brother, and would be admitted to Lady De Lacy’s presence as a matter of course. Meg agreed that this was a capital notion, and her only concern was how precisely Francis was to be induced to cooperate with it.
‘For you must admit that it is a very odd thing to suggest to him, quite out of the blue!’ she said. ‘I can write to him – in fact, I must – but I am sure he will think it very strange in me to initiate a correspondence, when we have had so little to do with each other up till now.’
‘I think,’ Sir Dominic replied soothingly, ‘it is best if I seek him out in person on your behalf, not revealing that you are Meg and not Maria at this stage, since we are not sure yet if we can trust him with that particular delicate matter. I could perhaps take your letter to him, and explain it – not your real purpose in arranging a meeting, of course, but merely the fact that you would very much like to see him. I dare say he will not find anything so very odd in that. Is it not natural? He is your brother, you have no other, and you are not likely to acquire one, I assume, at this stage in your parents’ lives.’
She agreed that such an eventuality was extremely remote, which could not be a matter for regret in the circumstances. ‘And I must admit that I would indeed like to know Francis better,’ she mused. ‘It would be a pleasant notion, to feel I really had a brother. Perhaps it may turn out that he feels the same about having a sister. It is an uncomfortable sort of thing, to have so few relatives one can be on good terms with.’
‘That rather depends on the relatives, I find. My mother has a dreary set of cousins I’d run a mile in tight shoes to avoid. You met them at the engagement party, did you not, and must have perceived how excessively dull they were? But yes, you may well be right. I would not wonder if he turned out to be delighted to establish a more human sort of relationship with you. We will have to tell him that you are not Maria soon enough, I suppose? It scarcely seems avoidable.’
‘Yes, I think we shall be obliged to. But I would not share any more of her secrets with him until we see how he takes that news. I can only hope he is nothing like my father.’
Sir Dominic left her now. It had been a long and tumultuous interview, but they found themselves in perfect accord at the end of it. He carried with him Meg’s letter to her brother, and promised that he would not rest until he had delivered it, and would, furthermore, supposing his mission was successful, arrange a meeting at his mother’s house as soon as possible.
It was early evening now, and he thought that there was a good chance that Mr Nightingale might be at home, dressing for dinner or otherwise preparing for the evening ahead. St James’s Street was, of course, conveniently close to his own residence, and so he would look in there on his way home, and might, if he were lucky, track down his quarry with his first effort and not be obliged to pursue him relentlessly through the clubs and taverns of the West End, like some fashionably dressed Nemesis.
Francis had his lodgings in a most respectable-looking sort of house, he found when he arrived, clean and well maintained, with bright brass fittings to the front door. Meg would have been even more irritated to see it than she had been at the thought of it, he was sure, as nowhere less disreputable could really be pictured and yet as a young lady it was effectively barred to her. He wasn’t sure if she knew that her reputation would suffer gravely if she so much as walked down this particular street, which was home to White’s and its notorious Bow Window Set of ogling so-called gentlemen, but he could easily imagine her reaction to the news.
The soberly dressed manservant who answered the door did not blink when he received Sir Dominic’s carte de visite . He would enquire, he said, if Mr Nightingale was at home. A few moments later he returned, and intimated that he was.
Dominic was shown into a pleasantly untidy sitting room decorated with a great many sporting prints; the manservant expressionlessly removed a riding-crop, a dog-eared copy of Boxiana and a large sleeping cat from a comfortable armchair, so that he might sit in it. The fellow endeavoured to brush away the copious amounts of hair that its previous occupant had shed, and Sir Dominic reflected that if he had missed any, which seemed quite likely, Pargeter would be absolutely appalled to come across it on his master’s clothing, which would do him good. The cat leapt up to sit upon the windowsill, the better to glare at Sir Dominic in massive ginger indignation.
He did not have long to wait; his host appeared in a few moments and stood in the doorway, smiling in an uncertain manner, clearly puzzled by such a caller but too polite to say so. He was tall, well-built and fair, like all his family, but sandy-haired rather than the golden blonde of his sisters. He had the pinkish English complexion that so often accompanied light hair, and his face was open, amiable and guileless.
Dominic rose at the sight of him and went to shake his hand warmly, saying, ‘It’s very good of you to see me, Nightingale, when you can’t have the least idea why I’ve come to visit you.’
‘Not at all,’ said Mr Nightingale with polite untruth. ‘Won’t you have a seat, De Lacy?’ He removed another pile of miscellaneous objects from the only other armchair and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor so they could both sit.
Dominic said easily, ‘In fact my presence is simply explained; I bear a commission from your sister.’
Francis seemed puzzled for a long moment, but then his brow cleared and he said, ‘Maria!’
‘Yes. I’m not sure if you know that I am betrothed to her.’ Dominic reflected that although this statement was objectively true, more or less, it failed entirely to do justice to the complexity of the situation. But this was not the time to entangle himself in such matters.
‘I did know, as a matter of fact,’ his host replied a little awkwardly. Dominic was beginning to realise that he was not stand-offish at all, but rather shy. ‘Should have written to congratulate you, I dare say. Sorry I didn’t, hope you’ll be good enough to overlook it! Wish you both very happy! The truth is, it’s an awkward sort of situation, but that’s no excuse for rudeness on my part. Can’t claim to know my sister at all well – either of my sisters, there’s two of them, you know. Twins.’ Dominic indicated with an encouraging nod that indeed he did know. ‘Not much of a one for dancing and that sort of thing, myself, so I haven’t happened to come across Maria since her debut. Feel a perfect fool surrounded by ladies who might expect me to partner them, or make polite conversation about the latest on-dits. Ugh! But I’m sure she’s an excellent girl. Wish I was better acquainted with her, to be truthful – with both of them. Would you care to take a glass of Madeira with me, De Lacy?’
After ascertaining that his host had no urgent appointment, or if he had one he was too diffident to feel able to divulge it, Dominic agreed to this. The wine was poured, his engagement was toasted, and they sat together in an atmosphere more conducive to the sharing of confidences, especially since Francis plainly had a far better taste in wine than his father. The cat made its way across the room and jumped confidently up into Francis’s lap, and he stroked it absently. Dominic imagined that Meg would see her brother’s obvious love of animals as a good sign, and was inclined to take it so himself.
‘Miss Nightingale is also sorry that circumstances have prevented you from becoming as close as siblings should be,’ Dominic told him. ‘She would like very much to mend matters, if possible. She thought, though, as you did not attend our engagement party, that you also might not care to call on her at your father’s house…’
‘Dashed right about that!’ Francis agreed with emphasis. ‘I remember she seemed clever, back when I used to see her every now and then. The fact is, I don’t see eye to eye with the old man, never have. Very few people do. Can’t imagine what a time of it the poor girl’s had, living there all these years. I know people might have expected me to take Lord Nightingale’s part when m’stepmother left him, but not a bit of it. Wasn’t in the least surprised, hated to see the way he treated her. Couldn’t stomach him for as much as a sennight, myself. Pompous old windbag, cares for nobody and nothing but his dusty old manuscripts. Not at all the thing to say about one’s father, and I wouldn’t run about the town saying it to just anybody, naturally, but I don’t hesitate to tell you, old fellow – you’re one of the family now, ain’t you?’
‘Almost,’ Dominic said with a small smile.
‘If you don’t know what he’s like yet – dare say you don’t – I expect you’ll find out soon enough.’ And then, abruptly, ‘D’you know what my middle names are, De Lacy?’ Dominic, rather surprised, confessed that he did not.
‘I’m telling you in confidence, would ask you not to spread it about, but should let you know, so’s you realise the sort of creature he is. First name Francis, after his father – nothing too terrible about that. Lucky escape, really, though fellows will insist on calling me Fanny every now and then, teasing, you know. Middle names, though, devil of a mouthful: Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus! I swear it’s true. What do you have to say about that?’ Francis Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus Nightingale leaned back, apparently satisfied with the impression his revelation had had upon his visitor, and took a healthy swig of his wine.
‘That’s… unusual,’ Dominic said rather inadequately, feeling grateful for the first time in his life that he’d been named Dominic Justin in a reasonably innocuous fashion for his father’s cousin and close friend, his godfather, rather than for a Roman emperor and philosopher with at least two too many excessively grand sobriquets.
‘I’ll say it is! Cursed unusual, sort of ridiculous name a street mountebank or some tumbler at Bartholomew Fair might give himself to impress people. Imagine being saddled with that at school. Every time someone taunted me with it, I knew whose account to set it to: thank you kindly, Father. People seem to have forgotten about it now, and I’d like to keep it that way. Did you happen to hear what he wanted to call the twins, though, before m’stepmother managed to talk some sense into him?’
‘Yes,’ replied Dominic, wincing at the recollection. ‘Maria Major and Maria Minor, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it dashed well was! I was only a boy at the time, but I remember the uproar it caused in the house. And when I was born my poor mother was in floods of tears, apparently, when he informed her of his intention to inflict that horror on me. She couldn’t get him to think better of it, no matter how much she begged him. Sort of name you wouldn’t give to a D-O-G, eh, Tiger?’
After a second’s puzzlement, Beau De Lacy realised that his host was not addressing him in this curious manner, but had spelled out the word in order not to offend the sensibilities of his pet; the cat made no audible reply, though its expression could be interpreted as sympathetic. Dominic agreed that one would not.
He took out the note Meg had entrusted to him and passed it over, saying, ‘Miss Nightingale would like to see you, and since she can’t come here and you quite understandably don’t care to go to Grosvenor Square, I suggested that I might take her to my mother’s house in Clarges Street for tea – tomorrow afternoon, perhaps. You may call on her there without the least awkwardness and without Lord Nightingale knowing anything about it.’
‘Ingenious!’ Francis’s open face was wreathed in smiles as he took the missive, opened it and scanned the few lines inside intently. ‘You know,’ he confided presently, ‘I’m devilish glad you called, Nightingale. Thank you for going to the trouble. Let me know what time tomorrow, and I’ll be there all right and tight. It’s about time the damage the old monster has caused this family is set straight. One thing I’m sorry about, though, is I won’t get to meet my other sister. I understand she’s down in the country somewhere with her mother and never comes to Town. I heard a rumour – servants’ gossip, maybe – that Father refused to pay for her come-out this year, wouldn’t even have her in his house.’
Dominic admitted that as far as he knew this was true, and agreed that it was very shocking and not at all the thing. ‘Dreadful, you know, to have such a shabbaroon as a father,’ Francis said, his cheerful face clouded again. ‘And the worst of it is, it’s not even the money – he is a nip-cheese, right enough, unless he’s spending thousands on a mouldy old book he wants, but the whole point of it is to punish his own child for her mother’s actions.’
‘If all goes well,’ Dominic consoled him, ‘I shouldn’t wonder if you are able to meet and become better acquainted with both your sisters much sooner than you might imagine!’