He brought the tea out and sat back down, his voice carefully neutral as he spoke again. “How much are you asking for?”
“I think three hundred should do the trick.”
Silas nearly choked on his first sip. “Pounds?”
“Well, I don’t mean shillings!”
He rubbed a hand over his brow. “I don’t know how much you think a midshipman earns, but you’re sorely mistaken. Don’t you have anyone else who can contribute? Is it just the two of you?”
“Three of us,” James corrected. “Marian stole Jack’s brewmaster because the fellow’s sweet on her—”
“He isnotsweet on me. Would you stop being so unprofessional? We’re discussing business.”
“But we don’t know any more rich blokes to come up with the funds.”
“I’mnot a rich bloke,” Silas reminded them. “Even if I were sure about this, I don’t know where I can find us three hundred pounds. Could you do it on two? I might be able to come up with two.”
If he took all his prize money, plus the sixty pounds from Miss Williams, plus the hundred and twenty she’d promised him to come back today, he was nearly there.
That was assuming that he could still make it to Mayfair in time.
“What time is it?”
James pulled out a rather worn pocket watch. “Half ten.”
“We need to keep this quick.” It would take him several minutes to find a hansom cab, and there was no telling if the roads would be clogged. He might have already missed his chance.
“We came all the way to London to find you!” James protested, indignant.
“It isn’t that I don’t want to see you, but the only place I can think that I might be able to find that sort of money comes with a very precise time limit. Now, can you do it with two hundred or can’t you?”
Marian shot a doubtful look at James. “I don’t know,” she replied, fishing a small, leather-bound notebook out of her things. “It’s easier to start out small than it used to be since they lowered the price of a brewing license, but we’d still need money for supplies and workmen. And there aren’t many buildings up for rent with the space we’d need. I’d want to stay near Burton, where I know all the suppliers and pub owners, but I wouldn’t want to be so close to Jack that he thinks we’re trying to run him out of business. That only leaves a few options. I drew up an estimate of the initial costs based on what Grandpa spends.”
She pushed her notebook toward him, where a list of rents and potential expenses were neatly laid out.
“Areyou trying to drive Jack out of business?” Silas asked absently, skimming through the numbers. It looked like Marianhad done a thorough job of planning, at least. “You could set up shop somewhere else.”
“Why should I have to run away when I haven’t done anything wrong?” She scowled, which made her look more impish than threatening. “If you can’t get us the money, do you have any friends who might want to invest? We’d rather keep it to family, but beggars can’t be choosers.”
“No.” Most of his friends had disappeared when his fortunes had turned. He couldn’t ask them for that kind of loan.
Marian slumped at this news, though it didn’t stop her for long. “You could get two hundred, though?”
“Possibly. If I leave this instant.” In his haste to make sure the opportunity didn’t slip away, Silas scarcely had time to think about whether it was a good idea.
“Go, then!” James urged. His earlier pique at being abandoned had evaporated once he learned money was at stake. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
Marian wrinkled her nose as she looked around the room. “Actually, we’ll leave you a note with the address where we’re staying. We rented some rooms from a lovely woman not far from here. We’re only a few streets down from the Anchor Brewery and we thought we might try to tour it tomorrow. Why don’t you come and stay with us? It’s much nicer than this—sorry—and we could plan our next steps together.”
Silas was hardly listening. He was still dressed for the dockyards and needed to change his clothes before he could show himself in Mayfair. “Yes, yes.” He waved her away quickly. “We’ll sort it all out once I’m back.
He needed to hurry. He had a lady to help and a hundred and twenty pounds to make.
Six
“What are your accomplishments, my dear girl?” Sir Richard smiled at her. He was a balding man with a large, white mustache stained with yellow along the bottom: the effects of too much tobacco.
He had been sitting in her tearoom for ten minutes already and there was still no sign of Mr. Corbyn.What if he doesn’t come?
