Code of Honor

by Andrea Pickens

  "Young pup you sent over ain't half bad. Raw, but willing ta learn, which is more ‘n one can say about most of them's of quality." He jerked his head towards where Justin Chilton was facing a set-up of stationary targets. "I sent Jasper over to give him a few pointers."

  Branford left off putting on his jacket and watched for a few moments.

  Justin reloaded and squeezed off a shot. It caught the paper target, but wide left of the small circle at the center.

  "Has Jasper remarked on your stance?"

  The young man turned quickly, a look of surprise on his face.

  "Try a little more weight on your left foot, then open your right side a touch."

  Justin took up his position and Jasper handed him the reloaded gun. This time the bullet was much closer to the mark, though still off-center.

  "And relax your hand — you are not strangling a chicken," remarked Branford dryly. He stepped forward. "Here, let me see the pistol."

  Justin handed it to him with a slight hesitation. It was at least twenty years old and heavy as a lump of coal. The barrel was pitted from the elements, and as he sighted down the barrel, he could only imagine what the rifling inside looked like. Though someone had recently gone to great pains to bring the gun up to snuff, it was a wonder the thing actually fired, much less hit anything. Branford moved it around in the air, as if testing its balance. Then he laid it aside.

  "Try this." He motioned for Lizard to bring his case, then removed one of his own pistols from the soft folds of velvet. He loaded it with practiced ease and handed it to Justin. The young man took it gingerly, eyeing its craftsmanship and obvious quality with something akin to awe.

  Branford gestured at the target.

  Justin swallowed, then turned and took aim, careful to follow all of the advice the earl had just given him. With the slightest of pressure on the trigger, he fired a shot.

  "Dead center," grinned Jasper as he consulted the target. "Yer Lordship will be putting me poor self outta a job."

  The staff at Manton's treated the earl with an obvious respect, but showed no fear in engaging in easy banter with him.

  The corners of Branford's mouth twitched slightly.

  Justin fingered the polished wood and chaised silver longingly before handed the weapon back to the earl. "Thank you, sir. I'm... I'm grateful for your pointers — and for the chance to use such a fine piece." His eyes unconsciously followed the pistol's progress back into its case.

  Branford nodded. He handed the other gun back to Justin, who grimaced slightly at its awkward weight.

  "Yours?" asked the earl.

  The young man colored slightly and raised his chin — a gesture Branford was becoming well used to. The earl felt a twinge of sympathy for Justin's embarrassment. He remembered well enough what it was like to be short of funds but have a surfeit of youthful pride.

  "It belonged to my father," replied Justin stiffly. "I haven't... purchased one of my own yet."

  "There is no shame in lacking blunt, Chilton. And no need to act as if there is," murmured Branford, in a voice low enough that only Justin could hear. Then, in a louder tone he added. "Jasper, see to it that Mr. Chilton shoots with a decent gun on his next visit. Good day."

  Before Justin could utter any further words, he was already staring at the earl's back. He shook his head slightly, perplexed. His good friend, Frederick Hartley, had witnessed the encounter and rushed over to his, eyes wide with astonishment.

  "Good lord, Justin. The Icy Earl actually spoke to you!" Hartley's voice was tinged with awe." And not only that — he offered you one of his matched pair!"

  "Ain't never seen the likes o' that," said Jasper, shooting Justin an appraising look. "Nope. Ain't never seen him offer one o' his barking irons to nobody."

  The two young men gathered their things and made to leave.

  "Thursday at one, Mr. Chilton," added Jasper.

  Justin nodded, then he and Hartley walked off, drawing not a few interested glances.

  "I didn't know you were acquaintances," persisted Hartley, as they walked towards his phaeton.

  "Hardly at all. That is, he... he is a friend of Alex," mumbled Justin." They share a mutual interest in botany, " he added quickly, lest Hartley get the wrong idea.

  Disregarding Justin's disavowal, Hartley looked at him with newfound respect. "Wait until Stanford and Yorkhill hear about this! They'll be green with envy that they missed it."

  Justin colored slightly. "It's nothing to make a fuss over, really, Freddy. I daresay he was merely..."

  Merely what? Justin found he had no idea. Somehow the idea that the earl was trying to cozen up to him was absurd — but equally absurd was the idea that he was acting

  in... friendship.

  "I say," exclaimed Hartley, taking no notice that Justin's voice had trailed off. "The others will be most impressed — egad! I nearly forgot!" He hastily consulted his gold pocketwatch. "I am supposed to attend on my grandmother at one, without fail." His face took on a pained expression. "She is having guests — including a chit of marriageable age, no doubt. But as she grants me a most generous allowance, I must do my duty. I fear it means abandoning you here. "

  Justin laughed. "You go on. It is a pleasant day. I shall walk."

  Indeed, he was still new enough to Town to find the streets fascinating. A myriad of sights, smells and sounds overwhelmed his senses — the cries of a costermonger, the pungent yeastiness of a spilled keg of ale, the smart carriages with matched teams jostling with dray carts. He was so lost in his observations that it took a second greeting to catch his attention.

  "Mr. Chilton."

  Justin's head snapped up. "I beg your pardon. I fear I was woolgathering."

  "So it seems." There was a faint smile on Branford's face as he controlled his spirited team with careless ease. Do you go on to Half Moon Street? I am passing by there if you care to climb up."

  Justin hesitated.

  The horses danced with impatience.

  "They are getting cold while you ponder the offer. If you prefer to walk..." He made as if to give the team its head.

  Realizing how rude he was appearing, Justin quickly made his decision.

  "Thank you, sir," he said as he climbed up beside the earl.

  Branford flicked the whip and they were off.

  They rode in silence for a bit, with Justin casting surreptitious looks to observe just how the earl handled the ribbons. After all, it wasn't every day that he had the chance to ride with a Nonpareil, a member of the Four In Hand Club, and he was determined to learn any little trick he could.

  Branford suppressed a smile at the young man's obvious interest and smartly guided the team around a number of slower moving conveyances, displaying a number of skillful moves with the whip and reins. It gave him an odd twinge as he recalled how his young cousin had sat with him, showing much the same rapt attention as Alex's brother. Yet he found that he was rather enjoying himself — he had to admit it was nice to see admiration rather than fear in another's eye.

  "Tell me, Chilton," he said after a while. "What was your father like?"

  Justin started in surprise. "What?"

  "What sort of man was he?" Noticing the young man's consternation, he added a brief explanation. "Your sister asked me to look at... "

  "The infamous letter," groaned Justin.

  "Quite."

  "I'm sorry, sir, that she saw fit to pester you with such nonsense. You needn't take it seriously."

  "I take my word very seriously, Chilton. And I promised your sister I would endeavor to help. Now, it's an unusual sort of system he's devised. Sometimes someone with no training in the subject is tougher to crack than one who follows set principles or patterns. In my experience, it helps to know something about the person himself. Little things may help provide a key as to how a person thinks. "

  Justin nodded slowly. "I think I see what you mean." He thought for a moment. "He was a... driven man, wrapped up in his own world. I mean, he was kind
enough to us, but, well, even as a child I sensed there was a part of him he wouldn't share. At times, he would fall into dark moods — that was when he would go off on one of his trips, to gather material on his book. When he returned, things would usually be fine for awhile. Until the next mood." He seemed to be struggling with painful memories. "Alex had to take care of all the practical things, for our mother died when I was very young. I...I wish I could have helped her more." He caught himself. "I daresay this probably sounds quite ridiculous to you."

  "Not at all," said Branford quietly.

  Justin let out a breath. He had not made a cake of himself, then. More than that, he somehow sensed an understanding in the earl that made him not regret having made such private revelations.

  The carriage had arrived in front of the modest townhouse Lady Beckworth had taken for the Season. As Justin made to dismount, he turned impulsively to Branford. "Would you care to come in for tea, sir? It is nothing out of the ordinary, but... "

  He hesitated, suddenly feeling rather gauche — one didn't ask the Icy Earl to tea!

  It was Branford's turn to hesitate, a look of surprise flitting across his normally impassive features.

  "I believe I would."

  He tossed the reins to his tiger, giving directions for the horses to be cooled down, then followed Justin up the stairs. An elderly butler took their hats and walking sticks, and Justin immediately headed for the library. Instead of waiting in the drawing room, as Justin had offered, Branford followed along.

  "Alex, Aunt Aurelia, we have a guest for tea."

  Alex didn't lift her eyes from her easel. She wore a shapeless smock over her gown, and a large paint brush was stuck behind her ear. It had dislodged a number of hairpins so that her thick tresses hung down in a bit of disarray on one side. A smudge of cerulean blue stood out on her cheekbone, the result of her constantly pushing the strands aside with the handle of the brush .

  "What time is it?" she demanded, the annoyance at being interrupted quite evident in her tone. "Can't you send whoever it is away?" Then, as she looked up, she added, "Oh!" in little more than a squeak.

  Branford walked deliberately towards the easel.

  "My lord," she began.

  He ignored her and came around to view the painting. "Hmmmm." He cocked his head to one side.

  Alex put down the brush she was using and jabbed at her errant locks. "It is most disconcerting to be interrupted in the middle of my work. I told you, I do not make a habit of showing a work in progress..."

  "It is progressing very nicely."

  "It is extremely ungentlemanly to barge in uninvited," she countered.

  Branford's eyebrows rose. "But I was invited."

  Alex looked startled. She looked from the earl to her brother, then down to her own paint-spattered smock. Her hand flew once more to her hair in dismay as she realized the picture she must be presenting.

  "If you will excuse me, I shall inform Cook that there will be one more for tea." She hurried from the room.

  "Aunt Aurelia," called Justin in a loud voice to get his aunt's attention. "Lord Branford is to join us for tea."

  "Oh."

  Branford had to strain to make out the diminutive grey head that was barely visible from behind an enormous Moroccan bound book.

  "How nice." She smiled vaguely in their direction as she let the volume close with a thud. "He isn't going to shoot anyone today, is he?"

  Justin sucked in his breath.

  "Rest assured, madam, I shall endeavor not to put a period to anyone's existence for the next hour," answered the earl with a twitch of his lips.

  "My lord," said Justin in a low voice, tight with embarrassment. "I must apologize for my family's odd manners. It would be completely understandable if you wish to reconsider...

  A look of unholy amusement glinted in Branford's eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, Chilton. I'm already enjoying myself immensely." To Justin's further surprise, the earl broke into what could only be described as a broad grin.

  An hour later, Justin found he was amazed about a good deal of other things.

  Branford reviewed the upcoming races at Newcastle with him, adding some very pithy anecdotes concerning the jockeys due to ride. He discussed Homer with his aunt, delighting the older lady by quoting passages in the original Greek. He also discussed — or argued, really — the aesthetics of garden design with his sister, seeming in no way taken aback by her strong opinions and vocal espousing of them. True to his word, he did seem, despite Justin's fears to the contrary, to be enjoying himself.

  "What fustian," snapped Alex in reply to an observation the earl had just made. "That is a typically male point of view — if there is a rock where you want a tree, simply dump a barrel of gunpowder on it and get rid of it."

  Branford regarded her thoughtfully. "And what, pray tell, would be a typical female reaction?"

  "A female would look at the rock and the surroundings and consider whether the rock might work in harmony with a different arrangement of plantings and whether the tree might look just as well in another spot."

  The earl's eyes crinkled in amusement. "And you, Miss Chilton, be honest. Would you settle for a rock in your garden?"

  Alex smiled in spite of herself. "Quite likely not," she admitted.

  "I rather thought not. I think you would inform the rock of all the reasons its presence was unacceptable there and it would take itself off of its own accord."

  Justin let out a peal of laughter. "You have the right of it, sir," he said, ignoring Alex's indignant expression. "Why, I could tell you some tales of what Alex did... "

  "Justin! I'm sure His Lordship is not interested in such childish nonsense."

  "Remember the time you and father..." Justin stopped and a pensive look clouded the laughter from his features. "Lord Branford was asking me earlier about father, what sort of a man he was." He looked over at the earl. "Perhaps you should ask Alex and Aunt Aurelia as well, sir."

  Alex shot a quick glance at Branford too. "You are thinking of the code?"

  He nodded.

  She thought for a bit. "Papa shared his passion for his work with us — his love of flora and fauna — but little of his private thoughts. He was very remote at times, even angry, though I could never imagine at what. For the most part he was—"

  "He was a very troubled man."

  Everyone turned to look at Lady Beckworth.

  "I don't know quite why he married your mother," she continued. "Forgive me if I cause the two of you any pain, but I believe you are both of an age where you will understand what I am saying. Oh, he cared for Olivia and the two of you, but it was as if it were merely accommodating his... daily needs."

  "It does not sound a great deal different than many marriages," observed Branford softly.

  She nodded at him , acknowledging his quick insight. "Too true, my lord. But it was not mere indifference or indulgence. Something was eating at him inside. Something he wouldn't share with anyone."

  "How did mama feel about it?" asked Alex.

  "At first I believe she thought she could change him. Later, she accepted what part of himself he could give. As you know, he was never deliberately cruel."

  But blindly selfish, thought Branford with an inward frown, to saddle a young daughter with the burdens of an adult. He noticed that Lady Beckworth's grip tightened on her teacup as she went on..

  "I thought the fact that he let the responsibility of running a household and managing Justin fall on you at such an age outside of enough."

  "I didn't mind," said Alex quietly. "And we had a very interesting time growing up, learning a variety of things, seeing different places as he worked on his Natural History of England."

  "There is more to life than work and I shall always be cross with him for failing to realize that with his own children," replied Lady Beckworth, her tone gentle yet edged in anger.

  "What of his family? What were his parents, his siblings like?"

  Both Alex and Justin look
ed blank.

  "He never spoke of them, ever. It was as if they... didn't exist, " said Justin.

  The earl looked questioningly at their aunt.

  She shook her head too. "I remember him telling Olivia that his family was — gone. He seemed unwilling to discuss the matter so she never pushed him further."

  Branford looked slightly askance.

  "Yes," acknowledged Lady Beckworth. "I suppose it sounds strange. But he was a respectable young man, introduced to Olivia by a friend of our family. It didn't seem so terribly important."