“Whit would I dae without ye, Jenkins. Yer a pal,” Alexander said, sitting to pull on the socks.
“Thank you, Your Lordship. Quite the compliment, I’m sure,” Jenkins said without the hint of a chink in his professionalism. “If I may be excused to relay your message?”
Alexander waved him away. Moments later he was heading for the door. Jenkins had hung up his coat and hat beside the door and he found a pair of gloves in the pocket, and a walking cane standing beside the coat stand. For a moment he stood looking at the gloves, then he slapped them into his right hand and took up the stick in his left. It felt ridiculous to be stepping out of the door with a pair of gloves clutched in one hand, a cane tapping the pavement. Jenkins stood in the road, hailing a cab. As Alexander stood waiting, a gentleman passed him, lifting his hat in greeting.
Alexander returned the greeting and received a salutation. The words slid right off him, so surprised was he.
That gentleman just passed the time of day with me. Usually, I get looks for my beard or my hair. Or because I opened my mouth at the wrong moment.
With astonishment he realized that the gentleman, though paying little actual attention to him, had taken Alexander for one of his own kind. Taken him for an English gentleman. He had been standing straight-backed with chin raised and shoulders back, just as Violet had taught him. In fact, it had the thought of her, never too far from his mind, that had made him think of his posture. A cab came to a halt opposite him and Jenkins hurried to open the door for his master. Alexander climbed in.
“Parliament, please driver,” he said, sitting back.
The carriage began to move and Alexander watched London flow past the window as he contemplated the immediate results from just one lesson with Violet.
Imagine how I’ll be after a week’s such lessons. Perhaps I should not be such a quick study, then I will require more lessons with her. Except I do not have the time to be anything but a quick study. I am not learning in order to be near Violet. I am doing it for all those children, like the boy I was, made slaves by their poverty.
The charred and blackened remnants of the Palace of Westminster soon came into sight. Scaffolds surrounded the surviving sections and men clambered over the structure, hard at work restoring the home of the mother of all Parliaments. Sebastian stood outside in the square, talking with two other gentlemen that Alexander recognized as peers belonging to neither of the two parties, the Whigs and the Tories. Alexander got out and paid the cabbie, striding confidently across the square towards Sebastian, who turned to look in his direction as he approached.
“Your Grace,” he said formally, bowing with his head.
The other two men followed suit. Both were graying and middle-aged, but ranked considerably lower than Alexander, as did Sebastian Cadzow, Viscount Holmesley.
“Sebastian,” Alexander greeted, forgetting his friend’s title or the English customs of addressing a peer by the name of their estate.
He cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment at the mistake, hoping it was not too big a social faux pas.
“You may know Lord Arthur Woodley, Viscount Graves, and Lord Eric Phillipton, Earl of March,” Sebastian said without missing a beat.
“We certainly know of the Duke of Lorchester, even if he does not know us,” Phillipton said.
“Yes, quite a speech the other day. Quite colorful,” Woodley said.
“But with its heart in the right place,” Phillipton put in.
“Indeed. Very much,” Woodley agreed.
Alexander took a deep breath, smiled politely, and addressed both men.
“I thank you for the kind words. I wish I’d had more…experience of giving speeches in the house before this issue arose which is so important to me.”
“These two excellent gentlemen are debating whether they should be voting with us Whigs on this issue. They are not yet convinced and desired to discuss the matter with its chief sponsor,” Sebastian said, looking pointedly at Alexander.
“Of course. I would be happy to talk the matter over with both of you,” Alexander said, putting enthusiasm into his voice.
“Shall we retire to an establishment capable of providing a good vintage and some palatable food?” Sebastian said with a charming smile.
“Lead the way, Holmesley,” Phillipton said jovially.
Alexander put his shoulders back and walked alongside the other three men. He began to speak, the effort of maintaining the English accent and diction putting a sweat to his forehead beneath the brim of his hat.
Violet, my dear. I am desperately in need of your help. I hope I have not frightened you away with my impetuous behavior.
Chapter 15
Violet sat at her dressing table. She wore her nightdress, staring into the mirror as she brushed out her fair hair. It was a nightly ritual, essential for the care of her long, straight hair. It was also her nightly habit to mull over the events of the day as she stared through her reflection and gave her hair its required hundred strokes of the brush. Luncheon had been more interesting than she had anticipated.
Ambrose was handsome, of that there was no doubt. He was also older than her by a considerable margin. Though not so old as to be beyond consideration. There came a tap at her door and she smiled. Another nightly ritual – talking over the day’s events with her sister.
