by Abigail Agar
“I just miss you. I’ve become used to you hanging around.”
Phin turned, stubble on his chin, hair unkempt. Malcolm must be complaining again about him to anyone who would listen. He would never let Phin look like this. “Did you lose your hairbrush, old man? If I’d known, I would have brought one of mine over for you.”
“Look, Everett. You can probably tell I’m not in the mood today. What is it that you want?”
“For starters, I’d like you to join the living.” Everett moved to a chair and sat. Phin watched then opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t. He looked at the ceiling.
“Was there anything else?”
“Yes, Phin. We need to talk business. Since you haven’t been over lately, I’ve pushed aside decisions that are waiting your opinion. All you need to do is listen and say yes or no. I won’t even fight you if I don’t agree.
“And, we need to talk about your trip. It cannot be put off any longer. You’ll need at least two months. Mercy and I have decided to get married in three months at Collinswood and will probably leave for our honeymoon a week later.
“That gives you ten weeks total in France. I need you back before the wedding so we can catch up on business. Mercy wants to go on our honeymoon for six weeks. I’ve only committed for a month. But you know females. They usually win out.”
“Then I’ll go when you get back from your honeymoon,” Phin said with a shrug. “It makes no difference.”
“That is where you are wrong,” Everett said with an edge to his voice. “Going in winter will add weeks onto your trip. The wineries are all but shut down in the winter. You can’t cross from Nantes to London in winter. Surely, you’ve been in shipping long enough to know that.”
“Fine. I’ll give it some thought,” Phin said, uncharacteristically snapping at Everett.
Everett responded in a low voice, enunciating his words slowly, “No. You won’t give it some thought. You will map out the trip with me. You will head from Paris to Champagne, to Burgundy, to Bordeaux, to Loire, using Paris as your hub. You will find what you like; strike deals with a couple of wineries, then come back with agreements to import.
“We will begin importing as soon as you return, and we will track how well we do. We’ll keep importing what we can sell.”
Everett talked in his regular voice, sympathetic to Phin, “Look at it this way, Phin. You are miserable here, doing nothing but pining away. A trip to France right now is a good change of scenery. You like France.”
Phin sighed. “I do. All right. You talked me into it. When shall we begin?”
“Right now. Dig out your maps of France.”
***
“Your Grace, the Duke of Exeter’s footman brought this.” Stevens held out a silver tray holding a letter with Phin’s seal.
“Ask him to stay then come back.”
Stevens bowed and left the room.
Everett read Phin’s note and shook his head. He smiled. Didn’t Phin remember Everett was more stubborn than he was?
He quickly wrote a note of his own, folded it and was sealing it when Stevens joined him.
“Perfect timing,” he said as he slipped his ring off his finger and pushed the top of it on the melted wax. He lifted it to see a perfect wax version of the family crest. He handed the sealed letter to Stevens.
“Anything else, Your Grace?”
“Yes, Phin should be over shortly. Have cook prepare the tea tray with all his favourites.”
Everett went to his bookcase and searched the cabinets below. Roll after roll of maps fell out onto the floor as soon as he opened the door.
Between the places he had travelled and the places he wanted to visit, Everett estimated he had at least thirty maps.
That’s why he told Phin to come to him. That and the need for Phin to leave his self-imposed retreat from society.
Everett sat on the floor and unrolled each map, putting them to his left if they were of France and to the right if they weren’t. When finished, he had six maps of France, some of the entire country, and some of a province or some other delineation.
He got up to put away the maps he didn’t need, heard the door open then close, and knew it was Phin. Without turning or stopping his task of putting away his maps, he said hello.
“Hi,” Phin said in a petulant voice that made Everett smile. He shut the cabinet, turned, picked up his maps, and turned to Phin.
“Before we start,” Everett said as he put the maps of France on his desk, “which Phin came to see me? The one eager to tackle the wine import business from France or the one feeling sorry for himself, acting like a 14-year-old.”
“The 14-year-old,” Phin said as he stomped to the desk and added three more maps to the pile.”
“Good to know,” Everett said dryly.
“You of all people, I thought I could count on. Instead, you find my life amusing. I believe I should rethink our friendship.”
Everett burst out in a short laugh, “Who, besides me, would put up with you right now?”
“Thanks, Ev. Do you have any other hurtful things to say before we get started?”
Everett ignored Phin and took the maps unrolling them onto the floor, anchoring them with paperweights and other small items he took from the tabletops and shelves. When he finished, they walked around the maps.
“How about we choose one of all of France, then one of each province, and eliminate the rest?”
“Sure. These three are the maps of the total country, which do you like better, Phin?”
“I don’t care,” he said, acting like a boy whose father just told him he couldn’t keep the puppy he found.
“You should care. You are going to use these maps, not me,” Everett snapped.
Phin pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Everett thought he might cry and berated himself for pushing him too hard to get back into the world of the living.
“Where are my manners?” Everett said lightly as he walked to a cabinet on the other side of his desk. He poured two healthy whiskies and brought them to where Phin was standing. He gave Phin his drink and looked down at the maps, beginning to curl.
“Let’s do this before the maps rebel and curl up in front of us. Which one?” Everett said pointing to three maps of France.
“That one,” Phin pointed.
“Good. Champagne province has only one map, so that makes our choice easy.” Everett grabbed it off the floor and put it aside.
“Why do we have three maps of Bordeaux?” Everett asked.
“Because you have never shut up about wanting to go there for the past seven years. I left for India with talk of Bordeaux, and five years later, I come home to the same talk.”
“You should go, not me,” Phin mumbled.
“Nonsense, you’re better at this. I’d come home with no agreements. We each have our strengths, Phin.”
“You know, you should go to Bordeaux on your honeymoon.”
“Why didn’t I think of that? I have plenty of maps. I’ll talk to Mercy.” Everett brought Phin back on track. “Okay. Three Bordeaux maps. Which one?”
Then Phin pointed to the Burgundy map and a Loire map, and Everett put away the ones they didn’t choose while Phin rolled the four maps they chose on the table.
“This is what we know. Start in Paris, go to Champagne, back to Paris, Burgundy, Paris, Bordeaux, Paris, Loire, in that order. With a boat to the London docks out of Nantes,” Everett said while pointing to the different provinces and the map of France.
“You’re the man in the field. Tell me what you’re thinking,” Everett said.
Phin thought out his strategy for visiting each province. They all had wine tasting. He decided to get two to three labels at first but write down five additional labels for each.
Phin continued laying out the plan while Everett kept notes. He was so relieved Phin was coming alive while talking. He knew what he was doing, and Everett was sure the trip would be a success.
When Phin wa
s done, Everett looked at him with an amused expression.
“How do you do that? How do you know what to do?”
Phin shrugged. “It’s easy. I got a lot of practice in India. It has served me well.”
“And it’s going to serve me well, too,” Everett said with a grin. “I wish you could spend another month or two there doing your thing, where no one is aware of who Bennett Collins was.”
“Don’t worry,” Phin said, swatting the air with his hand. “I’ll want to get back in two months, no matter what the ton is saying.”
“Good. When are you leaving?”
“I’ll walk to the dock now and see what’s available in the next few days.”
Everett stood. “Want company? I’d love to take a walk. We can get lunch at the club after?”
“I’d like that.”
Chapter 26
“The gardens here are some of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. I love our walks through them,” Charlotte said.
Molly smiled. “When I was a child, I would go through here and pull the heads off of the flowers.
“I loved taking off the heads of the peonies and the roses, although the thorns on the roses sometimes pricked my fingers. Serves me right.” Molly gave a short laugh. “One day, a gardener caught me doing it and told my mother. I was banned from the gardens. It’s only been the last two years she has let me back in.”
Charlotte laughed then turned to Molly, “Is that true?”
Molly pulled her head back, affronted, “Of course it is.”
Molly slid her hand underneath Charlotte’s arm, and they walked in silence.
“Are you thinking of him? You seem so melancholy today,” Molly asked, seeing the concern on Charlotte’s face.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. She stopped walking and faced Molly. “I’ve made a huge mistake. I should have received Phin, but I didn’t. I left him out on the street while I watched him from my bedchamber. Every time he walked away, I cried.”
Charlotte shook her head. “What was I doing? He means more to me than anything else. We could have faced the problems together. Instead, I’ve been a coward.” Charlotte began sobbing.
Molly tilted her head, “You are the last person anyone would accuse of being a coward.” She took Charlotte’s hand and pulled her to a nearby bench.
“Don’t cry. We will fix this.”
Charlotte looked up at Molly, tears running down her face. “What if it’s too late?”
Molly gave her a small, weak smile. “Well, then, wouldn’t you rather know? It’s better than the purgatory you are in. Come. Talk to your aunt. She’ll know what to do.”
***
“I have a confession to make, Ev,” Phin said, as he looked around White’s to see if anyone could hear him.
“Get the idea out of your head,” Everett said as he lifted the last of his chocolate cake into his mouth.
Phin looked at Everett hard. He rarely gave Everett ‘that look’, but Everett was glad of it. Finally, they could have a knockdown, drag-out.
Phin slammed his linen napkin onto the table. Except for amusing Everett with his childish calling of the gauntlet, the gesture inadvertently caused a waiter to come and clear Phin’s plates, including his half-eaten chocolate cake.
“Can never fault the service here,” Everett said shaking his head. “It’s one of the many reasons White’s has its reputation,” Everett added in the most conversational voice he could muster. Now was not a good time to laugh at Phin.
“Why not? I’m leaving the day after tomorrow for France. I’m going to be gone at least two months. I just want to see her and say goodbye.”
“What makes you think she’ll receive you? Do you really want to get on that boat with the sting of rejection to think about for two months? Let her miss you. It might get her thinking that you aren’t going to spend the rest of your life waiting outside her door hoping to be received.”
Phin looked into Everett’s eyes and was silent. Everett knew he was weighing his choice. Phin knew Everett’s advice with women was always sound.
“Are you certain, Everett? I can’t bear to come back to England to find her betrothed, or worse, married.”
“I know, Phin. You know I have your best interests at heart. You and I are going to spend every day of our lives together. It’s much easier to put up with you when you’re happy.
“John and Genevieve are watching her closely. They won’t let that happen. She is at his estate surrounded by a pack of women. Don’t worry.”
At that, Everett called over a waiter and ordered a piece of chocolate cake for Phin.
***
Phin sat in his chair by the fire, drink in one hand, journal clutched to his breast. He was tired. Or emotionally drained. Maybe both.
He heard the faint footsteps on the carpet then the stopper being removed from the whisky decanter. After more than the necessary glug sounds into the glass, Silas put the stopper back on the decanter. He and Everett had said their goodbyes during lunch at White’s.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Silas?” Phin said while he watched the fire, not bothering to turn or lookup.
Silas sat beside him. “Saying goodbye and safe trip to my big brother. I thought I would join the evening meal and suck up as much of your presence as possible to hold onto while you’re gone.”
He turned to Silas. “Come with me? Spend two glorious months in the French countryside boning up on your French and watching how a real master makes a deal. They say there are more pretty girls in Paris than in London. Prove them wrong.”
“It’s a business trip, Phin. You know I’m allergic to business.”
“Stay at the club in Paris then. I’m using it as my hub. I’ll be back and forth regularly.”
“No, brother. Tempting as Paris is, my heart isn’t in it.”
Phin turned more in his chair and looked Silas in the eyes, “Are you in love with this one?”
Silas gave Phin a small smile. “I have no idea what the term love means, but I’ve heard I’ll know it when I feel it. I’m not feeling it.”
“But she occupies your time so much that you don’t want to leave her for two months?”
Silas turned to the fire. “Something like that.” He turned to Phin, “What are you holding?”
Phin looked down at the journal. “Father’s journal. I bought it off Jasper Bernard earlier today, paid off his debts to the mate and walked him to the docks. He should be in Calais by now, never to be seen or heard from again.”
“Why don’t you look elated? You’ve been searching everywhere for that thing.”
“Here,” Phin passed it to Silas. “I was planning to throw it in the fire so it never wound up in the wrong hands again. When I read it, it made my stomach turn. It dredged up every unpleasant memory from the past.
“I cannot possibly make it public. Besides, what would I do? Go to a ball and walk it around, open it, ask members of the ton to read passages?
“No, it is of no use to me. You might find it interesting reading, though. The inner workings of Bennett’s mind. But Silas, after you read it, throw it in the fire.”
Silas inspected the journal front and back. A corner of it was discoloured as if Bennett put it down on a side table with a ring of water underneath.
It had a couple of nicks and one good size gouge. He wondered how that got there. It was oddly beautiful in its well worn, lived in way.
He dragged his hand down the soft dark red leather. He didn’t open it. He looked at Phin.
“It must’ve been very difficult to read this. Why did Father keep a journal do you think?”
“My guess?” Phin said, leaning his head against the back of his chair, “He was lonely; he needed a friend to help talk him through his troubles. He didn’t have one. He unloaded on a poor, unsuspecting sheaf of blank pages.
“My philosophy has always been to avoid at all costs writing down anything personal. It will always end up in the wrong hands.”
Phin looked at Silas and beamed, “I need to get back in two, maybe two and a half months because the wedding is in three months. They are happy. I am thrilled. Their first fight is now about the honeymoon. Everett wants to go for a month. Mercy wants to go for six weeks.”
