The cup of chocolate was dumped on the side table, slopping a little over the side. Simon hauled himself into a vaguely upright position, while the footman cheerfully rattled the fire irons and tipped coal onto the flames in a great clatter. It was just as well that Simon was not recovering from a surfeit of alcohol. As it was, he smiled. The bed was both comfortable and warm, the heat of the fire was already making itself felt and oh, the joy of a cup of chocolate in bed! What a glorious way to start the day.
“You wantin’ me to lay out linens and such?” the footman said. “Press anything?”
“No, no. I can see to myself,” Simon said. “Off you go now. You must have more important gentlemen to deal with.”
“Only Mr Godley, and he’s not prop’ly a gen’leman,” the boy said. “Not like yourself, sir. AnHonourable, you are. Son of anearl. Mr Godley’s father was a grocer… or a butcher, I don’t rightly remember.”
“A respectable tradesman, then,” Simon said, with a quick laugh. “What was your father’s occupation, Robert?”
“Farm labourer, sir,” he said grinning, “so I’m doin’ better’n him, ain’t I?”
“So you are, and if you work hard and learn to speak properly, as Froggett does, you might even end up as butler one day.”
“Lor’, sir, that’d be a fine thing!”
“So it would. Now off you go and see to Mr Godley, and try not to spill his chocolate into the saucer.”
“Right you are, sir,” he said cheerfully, not in the least chastened, but he took himself off and left Simon to enjoy his chocolate in peace.
Juliet, always an early riser, was already in the breakfast parlour, deep in a discussion with… what was his name? The duke’s secretary. Another man was there, too, whom Simon had not seen before, an older man who rose politely at his entry. Then, when the other two seemed too engrossed in their discussion to make the introduction, he bowed to Simon.
“How do you do, sir? William Hammond at your service, father to this young man here. I had the good fortune to be secretary to his grace for many years until my retirement. Jamie has followed in my footsteps, but I help out with compiling his grace’s diaries in preparation for publishing his memoirs. You must be Mr Payne, the architect.”
“I am, yes.”
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir. I hope your mission here is successful.”
The butler came in just then and poured coffee for Simon, as Mr Hammond Senior tucked into his breakfast again.
“What precisely are his grace’s memoirs?” Simon said. “Political?”
“The subjects of interest to his grace cover many areas,” he said with a broad smile. “His grace commenced to keep a diary when he undertook his Grand Tour at the age of twenty, and has maintained the habit ever since. As you may imagine, in his grace’s long and full life there is much to record, both of his public life, his observations of the world and also of personal matters. There is also correspondence of relevance to be reviewed, and newspaper reports of key events in which his grace played a part. There is much to be done to collate all of this information and distil it into a suitably succinct form ready for consumption by the world at large.”
“A massive undertaking, I should imagine,” Simon said.
“Indeed it is, and one must be something of a diplomat to ensure that no offence is caused. His grace expresses his opinions in his diary more robustly than he would if voiced aloud.”
“I am not sure I would agree with you there, Father,” said the son, his attention caught by the conversation. “The duke can be extremely robust when he wishes to be. He is not a man who smiles sweetly to a man’s face and roundly abuses him in the privacy of his diary.”
“So you think he would have called a certain Prime Minister‘a snake of the first order, who should be nailed by his treacherous neck to the stable door and left to writhe’to his face, do you?”
“He certainly called him vermin, in the House of Lords, if you please, and said he would set his dogs on him if he ever set foot in Brinshire.”
The father burst out laughing. “Did he so? He is a redoubtable old fellow, is he not? Who could not admire such spirit?”
“I could not, for one,” Juliet said acidly. “I value a little civility, myself.”
“Oh, to ladies, certainly,” Mr Hammond Senior said, a twinkle in his eye. “A true gentleman will extend every courtesy to a lady, but gentlemen may exchange views more vigorously, and yet remain the best of friends.”
“How very odd,” Juliet said. “I should not call anyone a friend who was rude to my face. Do gentlemen never fall out with each other, Mr Hammond?”
“Certainly,” he said, “but not on account of a few choice epithets after a glass or two with convivial friends. On points of honour… that is a different matter entirely. A gentleman will always defend his own reputation, or that of the ladies in his family.”
“At the point of a sword, no doubt,” Juliet said. “How very foolish men are.”
“Undoubtedly,” James Hammond said, with an edge of impatience. “Mr Payne, Lady Juliet and I have been puzzling over this letter that you received, asking you to come here.”
“From the supposed attorney,” Simon said absently, as he concentrated on buttering his toast liberally.
