Ridiculous

by D. L. Carter

  “Thank you, Forsythe senior. Is Mr. Simpson with him?”

  “No, but I shall relay the message that you are seeking him,” said Forsythe.

  Shoffer stared blankly at the doorway where Forsythe appeared in short order to announce “Mr. North,” before departing to fetch the duke’s secretary all without asking permission or consent.

  A clear indication, thought Shoffer, of the degree to which Mr. North had ingratiated himself into his life.

  North paused just inside the doorway, gazing about in the vague, awed way he had when he was pretending to be a country innocent for someone’s amusement. Once he had finished his examination, North stared at the polished floor and began to walk, heel toe, the length of the chamber, counting out the paces. Instead of stopping to greet the duke he continued to the far wall before turning.

  “This room is seventy-five feet long!” he cried and was about to measure the width, when Shoffer rose to seize him by the arm and gave him an ungentle shove toward a fireside chair.

  “If you have an absolute need to know the dimensions of my home, I shall have them measured by the servants and sent to you.”

  The words uttered so coldly had Mr. North’s head coming up and the smile fading from his face even as he sank into the chair.

  “I have no wish to cause anyone extra work,” murmured Mr. North and Shoffer waved his comment away.

  A footman entered a few steps ahead of Mr. Simpson and gathering the brandy decanter and humidor offered both to the duke’s guest and secretary.

  “Most kind.” North waved away both brandy and cigar and grinned up at Mr. Simpson. “Here is the fellow. Good evening to you, Mr. Simpson. My cousin, Felicity, wishes me to thank you for the house. It is, she tells me, everything that is gracious and fashionable. I expect, before the season is over, she will declare it dreadful, dark, and demeaning, so I will give you the compliment now and leave it to her to deliver the insults later.”

  “I am pleased to be of service.” Mr. Simpson sank down on a straight backed chair and regarded North solemnly.

  “And Miss Mildred is dazzled by the carriage you found. Again, my thanks.”

  Mr. Simpson colored a little, then nodded. “I am informed you inquired after me.”

  “Yes.”

  North smiled across at Shoffer with his expression open and friendly as a puppy. Shoffer’s stomach churned with the knowledge that he would have to cut this friendship if he wanted to continue in the ton’s good graces. North might be a fool, but he had feelings and sensibility and would be hurt by the cut. There might be no member of the ton whose friendship he valued more than North’s, but he had to consider shy Beth first and foremost. She could never endure being gossiped about. The sideways glances. The sneers and whispers would cut Beth’s fragile confidence to the bone.

  “I hope, Your Grace,” North continued, “that I might impose on you by again borrowing your secretary.”

  “I would be pleased to be of service,” said Mr. Simpson, reminding Shoffer he had already ordered his secretary to do everything to make the Boarder family’s stay in London comfortable.

  “Actually, I need you to listen to me and tell me if, in your judgment, I have a good understanding of the late Mr. North’s will.” Mr. North reached into his coat and pulled out a much folded bundle of papers.

  “You would be best served seeking the advice of a lawyer.” Despite that comment Mr. Simpson reached eagerly for the papers.

  “Eventually I may, but for now I seek the advice of intelligent men of goodwill instead. His Grace is already aware that my father’s will is an odd object. He was with me when I learned the full extent of my father’s opinion of my character and abilities. The late Christopher North was compelled by his father to grant me half of the estate and he did so, but reluctantly and with a proviso. As I read the will, it is expected that I shall die before my brother. The late Mr. North, may he burn in hell for a few years – I am not cruel – was specific in his instructions as to how I should maintain and hold all that I received from his will so that it might be given to Perceval upon my death. The list is complete in every detail. Every groat and penny itemized. Although Christopher North does not say what punishment he arranged should I fail in this, I suppose he had some expectation of petitioning God that I should be flogged in the afterlife.”

  “I do see that list.” said Mr. Simpson after a pause, his eyebrows rising as he examined the length and extent of Mr. North’s holdings.

  “It is my belief,” said North slowly, “that I am not required to surrender anything more than that list. That the profits of my labor, the excess of my rents earned after inheriting, revenue from my investments, which are not included in this list, are mine to do with as I will.”

  Mr. Simpson and Shoffer exchanged a glance and Shoffer, his interest engaged, crossed to sit beside his secretary, accepting each page as Simpson completed it and reading carefully.

  “Your father even listed the amount in his Mercantile account,” said Mr. Simpson. “Do you have more than this now?”

  “Oh, of a certainty I have more, much more,” declared North, with a laugh, “Although, my cousins are industriously trying to correct that situation this season. I am a dreadful skinflint, do not you know.” At Mr. Simpson’s shocked look, North continued. “What, do you think I have done nothing but gamble and whore since coming into my inheritance? I hate to disappoint you, but that is the exact opposite of what I have done. Remember, it was to be considered a contest between myself and Perceval to see who best managed his inheritance. It was all very biblical.”

  “From my reading of the will,” said Mr. Simpson “your understanding is correct. Because your father and his solicitor were so precise in what you must hold available to be rendered to Perceval, anything in excess should be considered yours. ”

  “Excellent,” cried North, leaping up and pacing before the fireplace. “This is wonderful news.”

  “I should take advice from a lawyer to be certain,” added Mr. Simpson.

  “Oh, I shall do better than that. I plan…”

  “I hesitate to ask,” said Shoffer coldly, covering his eyes with his hands. “Heaven protect us from Mr. North with a plan.”

  * * *

  Millicent paused and glanced back at the duke, puzzled by the tone of his voice. His voice, his entire manner since she had arrived had been withdrawn and antagonistic. He had never spoken so slightingly of her before. She could not think of anything in their current discussion which would offend him so much. Indeed, in the past when she had raised this subject he had been supportive of her intention to dower Mildred and Maude. His manner today was entirely unexpected.

  Mr. Simpson glanced back and forth between them, as if equally surprised. “If I might know it, I might offer an opinion.”

  “It will not go forward without His Gracefulness’s cooperation.”

  “What do you intend?” demanded Shoffer, his voice hard.

  Millicent hesitated and spoke only when Shoffer made an impatient gesture in her direction.

  “Come on, out with it.”

  “Very well. I thought that I should take some monies, above what is described in the will, and put it in the Exchange for my cousins. If I frame the matter properly, then they shall have an income even if they never marry.”

  “The Exchange?” Shoffer nodded. “That is simple enough. I can introduce you to someone who can make the investments on your behalf.”

  “It is not the investments which concern me,” said Millicent. “I can ask the manager at the Mercantile to make them and to see to it that the ladies receive their quarterly dividends. No, my concern is the possibility that once I die, Perceval should come and protest the use of the money.”

  “You could indicate in your will … oh,” Mr. Simpson glanced down at the papers in his hands. “I see your difficulty. Perceval North can argue that the money belongs to him, claiming the will of Christopher North supersedes your own, and demand the money be returne
d. If he is a man with no sensibility, that is. But what man would take the only income of a family of ladies?”

  “Oh, come now, how can you doubt it? Many men do so every day and think nothing of it. I think you can safely assume that Perceval has no qualms,” said Millicent. “Certainly, I expect Perceval to demand every penny. If I could create a will, I would give the girls a decent inheritance, but I cannot.”

  “But you have a plan,” said Shoffer.

  Millicent paused and stood facing the fireplace. “If I have lost your good opinion, Your Grace, then I have no plan at all.”

  “Good God, man, out with it!” When Millicent hesitated, Shoffer rose, seized her shoulders, and shook her, then released her so abruptly that she staggered. “No one knows from one moment to the next what you shall say or do, Mr. North. For heaven’s sake, what do you want of me?”

  Pale and confused Millicent stepped back and slowly corrected the lay of her clothing and kept her gaze directed toward the lush colored carpet.

  “Only that when Perceval discovers what I have done, I hope you will hold my cousins’ concerns in your heart. Should I appoint you executor of my estate, then Perceval will have to deal with you. Should you regard him through a lorgnette as if he is some strange form of toad, then he will retreat and leave the girls in peace. That is, if you are willing.”

  “Is that all?” abruptly Shoffer stalked back to his chair. “Really, Mr. North, you make such a production of every little thing! I would have thought you were going to ask for my life’s blood!”

  Confused, Millicent watched Shoffer pour brandy into his still half full glass. Usually Shoffer was in the best of moods when they were together. In fact, unless someone was insulting his sister, Shoffer was the most even tempered of men. Millicent reviewed the conversation and the previous few days trying to think of something she might have done or said that carried now to the duke’s ears that would set the man against her. Him. Mr. North. There were so many things she had done and said, but at the time Shoffer merely had laughed. What had happened?

  Shoffer slouched back to his chair and cast an unreadable look toward Millicent.

  “Is this all? It seems you need very little from me, which is a surprise given the production you made of it.”

  “I do apologize for wasting Your Grace’s time.”

  “Good God, North, how you do carry on.”

  “I think,” said Simpson, still appearing confused about the tension between the two friends, “that since Mr. North cannot create an ordinary will that His Grace should have some letter of intent. A request he have guardianship of the ladies’ finances until they marry.”

  “Yes. That is a good idea.” Millicent glanced toward the duke and away. “I am in no haste to write my will, expecting that neither God nor the devil is in any hurry to see me. Nevertheless, I shall write a letter tonight and send it across.”

  “Oh, write it now and be done with it.” Shoffer waved a careless hand. “There is paper enough over there. Use paper with my crest on it. Simpson shall sign as witness. I shall sign acknowledging this was done with my consent. Let us see if your brother can argue with that.”

  Millicent crossed to the writing desk where perfectly trimmed pen, strong ink, and soft paper awaited her. An imp of mischief decided her on what to write. Instead of a formal letter, in the style of a will, she wrote out her plan ending with, “Trusting to the good will and temperate nature of the Duke of Trolenfield, I do beseech him to supervise the distribution of my estate after death. If I could but divide the estate I hold equally between my cousins, I would, but the malicious actions of the late Mr. Christopher North prevent me. Therefore, I ask His Grace to extend his benevolence to my cousins and protect their interests as he would his own. I extend to them a sum of money as if they were a charity – being both widow and orphans – and bestow the sum of five thousand pounds upon each of my cousins to be held for them in the Exchange so as to serve as their income for life and dowry. As a charity cannot be compelled to return a donation, equally, my cousins, widows and orphans as they are, should not be robbed after my death by Perceval North.”

  And she signed it Anthony North in such an illegible hand that Mr. Simpson frowned at her, but Millicent could not explain the true Mr. Anthony North, being almost blind, could barely write.

  “Is there any other way we can aid you, Mr. North, since you have your own bank selected to act as investors?” Shoffer barely glanced at the page Mr. Simpson held to him before affixing his signature and seal. “Put that somewhere safe, Mr. Simpson. I do not expect to need it any time soon.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Actually, there is something Mr. Simpson can do for me…”

  “I wonder that I bother entering the room,” snapped Shoffer, scowling into his cup.

  Millicent colored despite her desperate wish to avoid blushing. “I do apologize, Your Grace. I should not trouble your man of business.”

  “Be damned to the Graces, North!”

  Millicent and Simpson carefully avoided meeting each other’s eyes and remained silent awaiting the duke’s next action. Millicent was breathless with fear that the next words she would hear would be Shoffer banishing her from the house. She knew not how she would bear not seeing him, not spending time in his company. But, perhaps, it was for the best. She should not be torturing herself with the unattainable forever. It hurt too much to be so close and never to touch. Sighing, she straightened and prepared to take her leave of Shoffer.

  “Oh, forgive me, both of you,” said Shoffer rising and briefly resting his hand on Simpson’s shoulder. “I have been a bear with a sore head all day and it is neither of your faults. North, I am pleased that you have managed to figure out a solution to the problem of your cousins’ dowries. Truly, you are the most confusing man – a generous skinflint.” He gestured toward Millicent’s secondhand finery. “You neglect your own appearance, but place no limits upon your care of your family. And you, Simpson, as far as it does not interfere with your other duties, I would appreciate it if you would render what assistance Mr. North requires. I know he will compensate you for your time. He has the money to spare since he spends near to nothing on his clothing.”

  And just that quickly the tension in the room vanished. Millicent exchanged a confused look with Simpson, but both were too grateful to have the calm and cheerful duke back to risk comment.

  “For what else do you require him?” asked Shoffer.

  “I only wished to know to whom and for how much I should make out a note of hand for the carriage and its upkeep. Mildred settled the matter with Mr. Simpson without my being aware of the details.”

  “I shall write it out for you immediately, Mr. North.”

  “I should pay for the carriage as soon as possible, I think,” said Millicent. “I expect the person who sold it is in need of the funds.”

  “Oh, yes, indeed,” murmured Simpson.

  “Very well. Will tomorrow suit you, Mr. North?” asked Shoffer. “For visiting lawyers and setting up a trusteeship for the Boarder family? There should be something formal in place to defeat your brother.”

  “Certainly, Your Grace.”

  “Very well. I shall … I shall collect you about ten and after we have dealt with your issues at the bank, I am taking you to meet with my tailor. Again. This time I will not permit you to delope.”

  “You are most kind, Shoffer.”

  She waited for a moment, certain that she had been dismissed, but uncertain as to why Shoffer was suddenly cheerful once more. Shoffer did not explain and she could not work it out. Confused, Millicent bowed and departed. Today was a most unusual day. She could think of no reason for Shoffer to behave as he had. It was more likely that it was nothing to do with her at all. After all, he attended the House of Lords which meant other, greater responsibilities than the petty concerns of a country gentleman. She should limit the demands she and her family put upon his time. It was only right.

  Quelling the hurt in
her heart, she walked home, not noticing that some of the Quality who saw her crossed the street or stared at the sky instead of running the risk of meeting her eye and creating the need for an exchange of greetings.

  * * *

  The season rolled on its merry way. Millicent attended events at Felicity’s direction trusting that her mother had sense enough to choose events which were most appropriate for the ambitions of Mildred and Maude. Lady Beth and her chaperone attended most with them, although Millicent noticed that the little girl was coming out of her shell more and needed familiar faces less and less.

  But most of all, Millicent noticed that Shoffer was not there. Beth explained that while Parliament was in session her brother was busy during the day and could not give up all the hours of the night to entertainments. Millicent accepted that reason with a smile even though she missed him like a lost limb. The pain of his absence weighed on her so much that one hostess was moved to comment – with a frown – about Mr. North’s morose expression, reminding Millicent that her family’s acceptance by the ton depended a great deal on her foolery.

  Millicent shook herself out of her pensive mood. Worrying about her friendship with the duke gained nothing. Since that one strange night, Shoffer was polite enough on those rare occasions she saw him.

  She was standing on the sidelines for a change, watching the dance, when the Earl of Trentonlie and the Comte of Le Forhend approached her. Millicent frowned as the two men circled her like hawks hovering over a freshly harvested field. For a few circuits the men did nothing more than circle until they gathered the undivided, if surreptitious, attention of the guests nearby. Their intention, Millicent did not doubt, although she had no idea why they were making such a show of themselves. Millicent watched their progress with a blank expression on her face.

  Benson, Earl of Trentonlie, tilted his head as he passed behind Millicent and examined her pantaloons.

  “My dear Mr. North, did not His Grace advise you on the fit of your trousers? You should enhance what nature has given you.”