“No. I chanced to meet her in Bloomsbury and nothing would do but that I take tea with her. I’ve not seen her in an age. She is more beautiful than I had recollected, though I thought her rather sad, but—Oh!” Horrified, she exclaimed, “My heavens! Youdidknow? About the betrothal?”
He said grimly, “I do now. I went to Collington and was sent off with a flea in my ear. Later, I met my betrothed, and she handed me a proper set-down.”
“I am so sorry. But, do you know, I think she was not so wild ’til—”
She was interrupted by a knock at the door, and the footman advised that Sir Mark sent his compliments, and was waiting for Captain Rossiter in the study. Promising that they would have a long chat later in the day, Gideon ushered his sister into the hall, then watched rather sadly as she made her way towards her own room, leaning on her cane. One of the few letters he’d received had advised that the hopefully anticipated surgery to correct her knee, damaged at birth, had failed. Her limp seemed, if anything, more pronounced. She could have been such a little beauty, if only—He cut off such disloyalty. Gwenwasa little beauty, limp or no. The people to be pitied were the stupid idiots who did not see what a darling she was.
On the stairs he encountered Newby, resplendent in shades of puce and wearing a bag wig with three curls that Gideon thought appalling. Newby leaned back against the banister scanning his brother through a jewelled quizzing glass. “Unimaginative,” he said in his supercilious way. “But at least you begin to resemble something human.”
Gideon closed his lips over an instinctive retort and went past without a word.
“I fancy you know that my father awaits your valiant presence,” called Newby. “Be careful what you say, twin.” Gideon turned and looked at him, and after a swift glance around, Newby went on softly, “I believe the old fool cherishes the hope that you have come riding home on your trusty charger to slay his ridiculous dragon called Conspiracy. One trusts your armour is polished and your lance sharpened.”
Ignoring the sarcasm in voice and look, Gideon said, “You do judge it ridiculous, then?”
Newby shrugged. “I judge his wits are properly addled. The fault is his own, and needed no embroidering by fiendish conspirators. I wonder you doubt it. As I recall, the main cause of your so frequent disagreements was that you felt he relied too heavily on ill-chosen subordinates—no?”
“I do not recollect your backing me on those issues at the time.”
With a deprecatory wave of his quizzing glass, Newby said, “But my dear twin, you beat me into this world by five and twenty minutes.Youare the heir apparent to this sorry kingdom.” He smiled sweetly. “And its indebtedness.”
“Yet I fancy you mean to enlighten me as to the best way to proceed.”
“There is but one way.” Newby straightened, his voice losing its sneering drawl to become sharp with urgency. “The old man must gather whatever assets still are left to us, and emigrate. In the New World we can start again. I hear there are quite charming estates to be had in some of the colonies, and—”
“I might have known,” interrupted Gideon in disgust. “You advocate a full retreat. To run away and leave our name sunk in dishonour. Brave advice, ’pon my word!”
Flushing darkly, Newby leaned nearer. “Don’t look down your haughty nose at me! Will our name be any less dishonoured does he stay to face trial, conviction, and deportation? Rather, we will come out of it pauperizedanddishonoured!”
“Not an we prove him innocent of wrongdoing. Perhaps—”
“Gammon! Do you fancy we have not tried? Whilst you were cavorting with your plump little paramours, Papa and I have wrestled with irate creditors and solicitors. We’ve fended off the set of ghouls who write for the newspapers. We’ve battled Bow Street and government enquiries and were able to prove only that he made mice feet of the whole and deserved exactly what he got!”
Gideon shook his head and with a curl of the lip trod to the next stair.
Seizing his arm, Newby wrenched him around and said through his teeth, “For once will you try to be less of a fool? Do we both prevail upon him to act now, we may come out of this withsomefunds and the hope for a comfortable way of life!”
“I may be a fool, brother—indeed, I suspect I am a very great fool—but I do not know the whole of this as yet. When I do, and if there is the smallest chance of restoring our good name, that is the course I shall—”
Newby’s attention had been arrested by a movement in the lower hall and he now demanded wrathfully, “You there! Who the devil are you?”
Mr. Enoch Tummet stepped back to leer up at them. “Now that there’s a right coincidence,” he said. “Them’s the first words what yer brother spoke to me, Guv’nor.”
“How did you know this gentleman is my brother?” demanded Newby. “Damn you, I think you were listening! Be off with you before—”
“No, no. I think Mr. Tummet came to see me,” said Gideon, and hurrying down the remaining stairs, ignored Newby’s predictably sarcastic response and drew the caller into a small book room.
Closing the doors, he asked, “How the deuce did you find me? And why?”
“Proper posh you look,” said Tummet, his one visible eye scanning Gideon’s tall figure admiringly. “But yer brother’s right, y’know. ’Op orf. Quick. Grab yer valleybles, an’ run. While you can. Them’s me advice, give free and wiv all goodwill fer yer honour.”
Amused by his impudence, Gideon motioned to a chair and occupying one himself said, “That’s what you would do in my circumstances, is it?”
“’Ere!” Tummet’s bright brown eye became very round and he raised one hand in a delaying gesture. “I never saidthat,mate. There’s the rub—like Mr. Shakespeare says—ain’t it? It’s easy to tell a cove what ’e oughtta do—when it’s’imwhat’s gotta do it. But to know what to do when it’syouwhat’s gotta do it—well now, that’s another tale.”
Intrigued, Gideon said curiously, “You can read, can you?”
“Yussir. Learned ’ow when I was a lackey. Not much to do ’cept stand around and look like a stuffed owl.” He drew himself up and assumed a frozen expression, then sat down with a mischievous wink. “There was a framed pome on the wall where I useter stand, and I stared at it by the hour, I did. One day I asked the ’ousekeeper what it was all about. A nice little old woman she were, and she taught me ’ow to read. Very slow, mind you. But once you can read—well! Opens a ’ole new world, don’t it, mate?”
