Page 32 of A Gentleman's Reckoning
“Timothy, go next door and bring a chair from there.” The boy went out in search of one, and John went over to his desk and brought out two blank ledgers and receipts that he had already calculated. He wanted to see how they fared with simple calculations.
When Timothy returned with the chair, he said, “Sit, and we will begin with a basic lesson in accounting.”
When they did so, he set the ledgers on the narrow table that had just enough room for them both to write, then paused, thinking he ought to learn more about each of them. He placed his hand on the stack of ledgers.
“Tell me about yourselves. How old are you, when did you arrive at the orphanage, and where were you before?”
Gabriel spoke first, looking up at John with a surprisingly clear-eyed gaze. “I am twelve, and I came to the orphanage six years ago when it was first built. Before that I lived with my mother.”
There was something in his look, a slight tremble to his lips that softened John toward him. “I am sorry to hear that you lost your mother.” After a slight beat, he turned to Timothy. “And you?”
“I’m thirteen. I came four years ago.” Timothy looked belligerent, which John suspected was a front. “They caught meon the streets, even if I was doing fine on my own, and they brought me here.”
“Are you glad they did?” John asked, although he wasn’t sure if he would be given a truthful answer.
Timothy twisted his lips in a grimace. “I suppose. Even though I’m not like Gabriel here.” He jerked a thumb in Gabriel’s direction, and John waited for him to expand on it. He didn’t.
“How is Gabriel different from you?” John glanced between the two of them, and Timothy was still scowling, while Gabriel tipped his chin up in a manner that seemed oddly genteel for an orphan. He clammed up his lips, and it was Timothy who answered.
“Hegets his own room.Hehas a sponsor—a gentleman from the looks of it.”
“I see,” John said slowly.
Lady Geny hadn’t mentioned any orphans having their own rooms. He had not visited the third floor and could only assume that the room—or rooms—would be found there. He wondered if other orphans were in such a privileged position. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen any record for sponsored orphans, either, which was peculiar. It would bear some looking into, and he would have to have a better look at the ledger from the year Gabriel arrived.
In the meantime, there were lessons to attend to. He explained how to record the simple receipts he had created for the mock ledger, and how to add them, then allowed the boys to begin their work.
John knockedfor the third time on the door of Blackstone’s club, determined to make a decision today about whether or not he would become a member. There was nopoint in continuing to go if he was not going to invest in the society there. The two gentlemen he had spoken with the last time seemed pleasant enough, but it took more than two gentlemen to know if a club was right for a person.
Plockton opened the door and recognized him at a glance, bowing and addressing him by name. John was relieved that he wouldn’t have to undergo the little black book scrutiny of the last time, which reminded him all too forcibly of his rejection from the other clubs.
“Come right this way, sir. Lord Blackstone is in his study and asked not to be disturbed. There are plenty of other members present today, and you will find them in the various rooms.”
Plockton was in a talkative mood that day, which was another strange distinction of the club. The servants seemed to be on nearly the same level of informality as the members.
He added in a conversational tone, “You can decide if you wish to play billiards or sit at cards—or you might go into the drawing room.” Perhaps Plockton thought he was already a member, because these rooms had not been open to him before.
“Be so good as to show me into the billiard room,” John said.
He did not know where to find it but thought it might be a good idea to seek out a different room and company than what he had seen the last time. They entered the room, and Harry Smart was mid-game with another gentleman, and he raised his hand in salutation. Three other gentlemen watched the game idly, one leaning against the wall and the others seated.
“Good to see you again, Aubin. I was beginning to fear you would have been turned off by the strange company, both dead and alive, and refuse to come back.” Harry grinned and leaned down to take his shot. It proved to be a good one, for he hit both object balls. He gave a crow of victory, then came over and shook John’s hand.
“Allow me to introduce you to everyone. That over there is Sebastian Drake; he is new as well. These two are Mark Riordanand Grant Bell. And this”—Harry added, pointing to the older gentleman who was his opponent—“is the Earl of Hollingsworth. Come to think of it, he is just the person for you to meet, because he’s had intimate dealings with Goodwin. Or he did have in the past.”
John greeted the other gentlemen before turning to bow to the earl. “Lord Hollingsworth, it is an honor to make your acquaintance.”
He glanced at the others present, aware of how unusual it was to speak openly of one’s affairs in front of strangers, but it was Harry who had brought it up. “If you are so inclined, I would be glad to know what dealings you’ve had with Lord Goodwin in the past, for the knowledge might help me.”
Harry had missed his next shot, and Lord Hollingsworth let his gaze rest on John for a moment before smiling and walking around the table to take his own shot. When he had accomplished this with less success than Harry, he stood.
“I was in love with the Countess Goodwin before she held the title and had hoped to make her my wife. Lord Goodwin stole a march on me, and I was never able to realize my ambition.”
John did not know what to make of such openness or its implications. He could understand what it was to be thwarted in love, but was that all there was to create such animosity between them? He searched for something to say. “I have seen a portrait of Lady Goodwin, and she was comely.”
Harry joked with the man leaning against the wall, pulling the others into his raillery. None of them appeared to be overly interested in his conversation with the earl. John was glad for it.
Lord Hollingsworth sighed. “She was indeed, but it was her goodness that held my heart captive. I am a rogue, always have been. It was her noble character that tempted me for the first time to bring a lady to the altar. A shame it did not come about, for she might have been the making of me.”
