Sweet Awakening

by Marjorie Farrell

  “And you settled into the life of a law student?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t make many friends, Mr. More. Most of my fellow students are the younger sons of the nobility and had no interest in someone like me, whose family has been in trade. It has been a lonely year, but I discovered a coffeehouse in the West End, where I spent hours reading the newspaper or studying.”

  Andrew knew the rest of the story. An obvious “Johnny Newcome,” John Grantham was the natural prey for a blackleg, one of those ruined gamesters who haunted the West End acting as “recruiting officers.” But he let Grantham continue.

  “I met an older man. A man called Thomas. I found out later he is called ‘Coaxing Tom,’ ” added Grantham with a hollow laugh. “It is a good name for him. He was kind and coaxing. He told me I was too serious and too sallow. That I needed a little excitement to liven up my life, and he knew just the place. I would make friends there,” he said. “And so I went.”

  “And played?”

  “Oh, I only laid down a little the first few times. But I won back everything and more.”

  “Yes, they make sure of that in these houses. Everyone wins more than he loses the first few times.”

  “Then I started to lose. But not too much. Not enough to discourage me. And I was welcome. Oh, I’ve told myself I was having a hard time. I was homesick, had no friends.”

  “But that is the truth,” said Andrew sympathetically.

  “The truth is, I was naive and stupid. The truth is I let them fleece me out of my parents’ hard-earned money. The truth is I have nothing and have had to quit my studies. And the truth is, I don’t give a damn about honor and what is done and what isn’t done. I want my money back. The law is on my side, and I have come to love the law, although at the end, I was giving it little enough of my time.”

  Andrew sat quietly through his outburst. At first, he hadn’t been drawn to this young man, partly because of his unappealing exterior, he was ashamed to say. And, also, he had to admit, because of his class. Sometimes he had an easier time with the poorest of the poor, and whether he liked it or not, he mixed with his own class confidently. He understood the middle class least. No one that he knew would ever dream of trying to get their money back. He knew men at Oxford whose fathers had lost whole estates; one whose brother had committed suicide over unpaid debts. But the code of honor demanded that a gentleman always paid what he owed, even if it meant impoverishing his family.

  So at first he had only thought the young man a “whiner,” unwilling to take responsibility for his actions. Then, as he listened, he began to admire him. Here he was, willing to admit he’s been gulled, “fleabotomised,” as the blacklegs called it, but not willing to go along with a societal code that would have meant destroying the belief his parents had in him. If he carried through with this, Grantham would be even more of an outcast than he already was. But he obviously didn’t care. The principle of what was right and lawful motivated him.

  And why should old Lord Marchmain have given up his estate. Or the young Viscount Blakeney shot himself? Andrew’s thoughts surprised him, and he had a fleeting vision of how nice it would have been to come home to Sabrina and discuss these issues. He dismissed it as quickly as it appeared and leaned forward on his elbows.

  “You realize that these men are not going to appreciate your devotion to the law, Mr. Grantham.”

  Grantham swallowed hard. “I do.”

  “They are criminals, although they appear very welcoming and genteel.”

  “I am not afraid,” said Grantham stoutly, and then he laughed. “No, I am very afraid,” he admitted. “But I must do what I believe is right.”

  “As long as you understand the possible consequences, I will take you on as a client and direct my solicitor to prepare your case.”

  “Thank you, Mr. More, thank you,” Grantham answered with great relief.

  “The case cannot be brought until Michaelmas Term. I will have Mr. Lawrence contact you to prepare the brief.”

  Grantham got up to leave.

  "Mr. Grantham, there is something you have forgotten,” said Andrew. “The small matter of my fee,” he added dryly.

  Grantham blushed. “Of course. I have a small amount of money set aside.”

  “Which, no doubt, you need for lodging and food?”

  Grantham nodded sheepishly.

  “Well, I will wait, and you can pay me when we win.”

  “You think we can win, then?”

  “I know we will.”

  “Thank you for taking this case on, Mr. More,” said Grantham fervently.

  “You are more than welcome, Mr. Grantham,” said Andrew, walking him to the door. “It will liven up my fall term considerably, I am sure.” And keep my mind off Lady Sabrina Whitton, he added to himself.

  * * * *

  The Whittons arrived in London in mid-September and spent their first few days getting settled in. By the end of their first week, however, they started to accept selected invitations. Each time Sabrina walked into a drawing room or a ballroom, she found herself trembling like a young girl about to encounter the object of her first calf-love. But Andrew More was not at Lady Edward’s soiree nor the Thorndike ball, which left Sabrina both relieved and disappointed.

  Giles was also on the lookout for Andrew, and when he didn’t appear either evening or call on the Whittons, Giles decided it was time to call on his friend. He excused himself from the daily ride one morning, announcing over breakfast that he had some errands to do. After Sabrina and Clare left, he took a hansom cab to Temple Bar.

  Andrew’s clerk greeted him and announced that Mr. More was with a client, “If you can wait, my lord.”

  “Of course. Mr. More had no idea I was coming.”

  After ten minutes, Andrew’s door opened and a tall, thin young man emerged. Giles looked at him curiously. He was better dressed than Andrew’s usual class of clients, and Giles wondered just what he had been accused of.

  As soon as the clerk announced him, Andrew was at the door, a broad smile on his face.

  “Giles! What a delightful surprise! I didn’t know whether you were still in the country or had decided to do the Little Season.”

  “It was a quick and unanimous decision, Andrew. We only arrived at the beginning of this week. We were hoping to see you at the Thorndike’s, but when we didn’t, I decided to hunt you down myself.”

  “I have been quite busy, Giles,” said Andrew, sitting on top of his desk and motioning Giles to a chair in front of him. “Michaelmas Term starts soon. And I always do the minimum socializing anyway, you know.”

  Giles smiled. “Yes, I know you well. Was that a new client, Andrew? He looked well-heeled compared to your usual clientele. What is he accused of?”

  Andrew grinned. “He is accused of nothing, Giles. I am acting as prosecutor in this case.”

  Giles lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

  “That young man, Mr. John Grantham, is bringing suit against Messrs. Bennett, Oldfield, Carolus, and Phillips.”

  “Embezzlement?”

  “Of a kind, I suppose you could say,” Andrew replied. “The gentlemen in question run a gaming hell at 75 St. James Street.”

  “You are bamming me, Andrew. That young man is trying to use the law to renege on a gaming debt?”

  “Oh, no, Giles. He owes them nothing. He’s paid all of his parents’ hard-earned money, which they saved to place him at the bar. He is trying to get it back. And he is quite within the law, I might add.”

  “Truly?”

  “Absolutely. From the time of our good Queen Anne, anyone could sue to recover his losses.”

  “But, Andrew, no one ever would, would he? It is ...”

  “Not done, Giles? Not the honorable thing to do, eh, what? You are right. But it is absurd, don’t you think? Do you remember Jeremy Waites?”

  Giles frowned. “He was ahead of us at Oxford. Wasn’t he the one whose brother killed himself?”

  “Yes. Over a g
ambling debt. And think of Franklin. He was forced to marry a cit’s daughter ten years older than he, just to get himself out of the River Tick. And she looked every day of those ten years, I might add.”

  “Whatever will people think of this, Andrew? Your brother will not be pleased.”

  “Oh, hang my brother. He has never been pleased with me, whatever I’ve done. He should be happy I am going after criminals instead of defending them.”

  “And what of Messrs. Oldfield et al.? To say they will not be pleased is surely an understatement, wouldn’t you say? Is there any danger in taking on this case?”

  “They have already offered the boy three times his losses to make him drop the case.”

  “And he didn’t take it!”

  “Young Mr. Grantham is a middle-class idealist, Giles. Grew up in India. Father a hardworking man dedicated to duty and the company. He believes in the law. Believes that this might help other young men who get caught up in the toils of the blacklegs. No, he didn’t accept the bribe, for he is doing this as much for the principle as for the money.”

  “And you, Andrew?”

  “Oh, they offered me a tidy sum too, Giles. Sent over their solicitor, who very tactfully suggested that this whole thing could go away for five hundred pounds.”

  “Now I know you are bamming me!”

  Andrew shook his head. “Do you know how much these men can pull in a year, Giles?”

  “Forty, fifty thousand guineas?”

  “Five hundred thousand.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. They don’t want anyone jeopardizing that kind of profit, I can tell you.” Andrew hesitated. “After I turned down the money, their solicitor hinted that the young Mr. Grantham might want to return to India, ‘for health reasons.’ I sent him away with an earful, I can tell you. I’ve had Mr. Grantham move out of his rooms into a small inn. He’ll be safe.”

  “And what about you, Andrew,” asked Giles with concern.

  “Don’t worry, Giles. They wouldn’t dare touch a barrister. Or the younger son of an earl, for that matter,” he added with a grin.

  “It is nothing to joke about, Andrew.”

  “The only danger I am in, Giles, is social. After all, I am about to threaten everything a gentleman holds dear: the right to put his family fortune and estate at risk. I see a frown on your face, Giles. Do you disapprove?”

  “What? No, I don’t think so. I must confess, I have never heard anyone question my assumptions about this before. I deplore gambling, I have sincerely pitied and in some cases tried to help those caught up in it, but I never would have thought of challenging anything legally. But now that I think of it, it seems foolish not to.” Giles shook his head as though to clear it. “But I do worry about you, my friend.”

  “Nonsense. Nothing will happen to me. I will win this case. John Grantham will go back and finish his studies at Inner Temple, where he will, no doubt, become even more of a social outcast. And gentlemen will go on ruining themselves and marrying Friday-faced cit’s daughters to bring themselves about.”

  Giles laughed. “I suppose you are right. Now, when are we going to see you?”

  “Oh, I have accepted a few invitations over the next few weeks,” Andrew replied evasively.

  “Will you be at the Straitens’?”

  Andrew examined his fingernails. “The Straitens’? Yes, I think I did accept their invitation.”

  “Good, then we will see you there.” Giles hesitated. “Sabrina will be pleased, I am sure,” he added.

  Andrew continued to look at his hand, as if there were nothing more interesting in the world than the state of his cuticles, and said nothing.

  “Will you be pleased to see her, Andrew? Perhaps that is the more important question.”

  Andrew looked up at Giles and said evenly: “I am always pleased to see both of you. You know that, Giles.”

  “All right. I won’t pry any further. You left Whitton very quickly, however. And Sabrina has been moping about ever since. I thought, but perhaps I was wrong, that something had happened between you? The afternoon of the storm?”

  Andrew’s eyes flashed. “Do you think I would compromise your sister and then flee, Giles!”

  “Of course not, you fool. You know that as twins, Sabrina and I are closer than most brothers and sisters. I have always felt that she might have a special feeling for you, Andrew.”

  “And what if she did, Giles? What could come of it? Your sister is the daughter of an earl, with a substantial portion and ...”

  “And you,” Giles interrupted, “are the son of ...”

  “Youngest son, Giles.”

  “With more brains and wit than your brother has in two fingers. Why shouldn’t she be interested in you?”

  “Lady Sabrina will, no doubt, meet someone more appropriate, with equal charm and more importantly, of equal rank,” Andrew said finally.

  “Oh, God, you sound just like your brother! Well, if you are going to turn formal on me, I will leave. But I promise you, this is not the last conversation we will have on this topic.”

  * * * *

  As was typical of them, while Giles was worrying about the state of his sister’s heart, Sabrina was very concerned about the state of his marriage. By now, everyone in the household was aware that the viscount and his wife were no longer sharing a bedroom or a bed. Sabrina watched Giles very carefully. He was everything that was kind and polite with Clare, and she with him, but instead of taking any opportunity to touch her, he was keeping himself at a distance. It was most likely not noticeable to anyone who did not know him well, but Sabrina was very aware of every missed opportunity.

  She had intended to talk to her brother when the opportunity presented itself, but one afternoon, when Giles was at his club, she walked in on Clare, who was huddled on the sofa in the library. It was obvious from the crumpled handkerchief in her hand and her reddened eyes, that she had been crying.

  Sabrina sat down next to her and said, “What is it, my dear? Can I help you in any way?”

  Clare turned and gave her a watery smile. “I thought I was safe here.”

  “I’ll leave if you want to be alone.” Sabrina half rose, and Clare grasped her hand and pulled her down.

  “No, no, I didn’t mean that, Sabrina. I only meant I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

  “Is it Giles?”

  Clare nodded. “Yes. No. I don’t know, Sabrina. I feel I hardly know myself these days, much less anyone else.”

  “This summer it seemed as though things were going well between the two of you.”

  “I suppose they were. We were sharing a bed, if that is what you mean.”

  Sabrina was surprised to find herself blushing. For all her independence of spirit, and the few years she had on Clare, her friend had more experience in this area of life. She stammered an apology for intruding.

  Clare smiled. “Don’t worry, Sabrina. After having to reveal every intimate detail of my first marriage before a room full of strangers, I have little embarrassment left. I need someone’s help and advice.”

  “Whatever I can do.”

  “I don’t know if anyone can do anything,” sighed Clare. “There is more to marriage than sharing a bed, Sabrina. The physical side is less complicated for a man than a woman. Giles and I reached a certain level of intimacy, but I found myself unable to give him more. It is distressing to both of us that my capability for a full, passionate response seems to have died with Justin. Although,” Clare added in a low voice, “perhaps it is just punishment.”

  Sabrina had nothing to say. She was no innocent and knew what happened between a man and a woman, but the subtleties of marital intimacy were a mystery to her.

  “Some of this tangle is due to my fear,” Clare continued. “I was able to respond to Justin and look what happened. As soon as I feel anything like those feelings with Giles, something in me shuts down.”

  “But Giles is nothing like Justin, Clare. He would never hurt you.”

/>   “Of course I know that, Sabrina,” Clare replied almost impatiently. “But I have changed, and he can’t seem to see that. I don’t think he wants to see it. He married little Clare Dysart, not Lady Clare Rainsborough, the notorious widow and murderess.”

  “You are not a murderess, Clare.”

  “I know it was in self-defense, Sabrina. But all the same, I killed a man. You saw him.”

  Sabrina shuddered.

  “I wish Giles had seen him. I think as much as Giles wants to protect me, he needs to protect himself. He will not be angry with me.”

  “But why ever should he be?”

  “Because I walked away from an understanding of many years. I walked away from his love and protection right into the arms of a charming villain. He still can’t understand what it is like to live with someone like Justin. To live all the time utterly confused and helpless to change things. To tell you the truth, Sabrina, sometimes I wonder if at some level, Giles is repulsed by me. And the only way he can deal with this is to love the old Clare. But I am not that child any longer.”

  Sabrina looked at Clare as though seeing her friend for the first time. Because she was a woman and because she had been there the morning after, she had always had a better understanding than Giles of who Clare had become. But she, too, had been happy to split Clare into two people: the Clare she had known for years and the aberrant Clare who only existed because of her terrible marriage. Like Giles, she had seen him married to the old Clare, who somehow miraculously emerged unchanged from her ordeal.

  She put her hand tentatively on Clare’s. “I think you are right. I know you are,” she continued. “It is very difficult to comprehend what these last few years have been like for you. I don’t like to think about what I saw that night. I don’t like to think about what you looked like. I have wanted it all to go away, so that we can return to what should have been.”

  “Perhaps my marrying Justin was what should have been, Sabrina,” said Clare, covering her friend’s hand with her own. “Had I married Giles two years ago, I would have been marrying my ‘Galahad,’ my illusion of him. I know now that no one is perfect, least of all me. I needed to learn how to protect myself. You have always known how, Sabrina. You would have thrown those worms right back at Lucy Kirkman,” said Clare with a soft laugh. “Or pushed her into the stream!”