by Ella Edon
“Be that as it may, I will simply not allow it and that is all there is to it.”
“Mother, as I told you earlier, I need to go to see Mr. Screed. I shall return as soon as I can. Please allow me to do this.”
“Of course, Jonathan. I shall trust you to do the right thing. Do hurry back home.”
And with that, he rose, embraced his mother and his sister, at the doorway. “I shall return, I hope, with good news. Mother, it is always very nice to see you, and Cecily, I am very glad you are my sister. Your advice and your candor are most refreshing. Now, with your permission, I will away. I shall endeavor to solve the remaining issues, and we will talk about my nuptials at a more convenient time.”
“Good luck Jonathan,” said Cecily.
“Yes, Godspeed, my son,” said Margaret.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Screed’s Creed
Nathan, who was fast becoming an indispensable part of Jonathan’s life, was able to prepare the carriage so Jonathan could travel back to Cheapside, near St. Mary-le-Bow. In short order, he was in front of the business of Uriah Screed. It was curious, he thought, how Mrs. Porter knew of this man and nobody else seemed to have a clue who he was. It was unclear what his business was, and yet he seemed to do very well. Jonathan made a mental note to find out what his business was.
He knocked on the door, and within the blink of an eye, a small, hunched man with grey wisps of hair entwining with his wire-rimmed spectacles, answered the door.
“Good afternoon,” he said in a creaky but genial voice.
“Good afternoon. Is this the business of Mr. Uriah Screed?”
“Some say it is, some say it isn’t. You are not with the constabulary, are you?”
Jonathan laughed. “I should say not! Is he in?”
“I am in,” thundered the voice of Uriah Screed from somewhere in the bowels of the room. “I presume this is Master Jonathan Anderson-Reese?”
“Indeed, it is, sir,” said Jonathan, moving into the room, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the dim light after the bright winter sun outside.
“I presume you are here to reclaim your watch? ‘Tis pity, because I’ve grown rather attached to the thing. It can’t keep time in a bucket, mind you, but it is a lovely thing to flash around.”
“Well, it’s a family heirloom, so my mother tells me,” said Jonathan. “But I am here for more than merely to reclaim my watch. I wanted to thank you for your keen sense and for your advice.”
“So, you took it, then did you?”
“I did indeed.”
“And?” He was smoking a large cigar. It wafted through the room like a tire fire.
“Well, it worked out rather well. For me. In fact, I managed to win back all the money my father had lost, and then some. I also encountered some rather disreputable characters.”
“And at least one reputable one.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I said, you met one reputable character, did you not?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“You mean to tell me you didn’t meet D’Arcy Dancer?”
“Why yes, I did. He furnished me with many of my winning hands on the last night. Last night in fact,” said Jonathan.
“I understood he had some hand in helping you. D’Arcy is a good lad. Profligate with his money of course, but I could see how that would turn to your advantage. What is the rest of the story?”
“The rest of the story is that my love, the woman I want to marry, Mademoiselle Garance Monteux was abducted at gunpoint by one of the malefactors I believe are associated with Alastair Kerr.”
“You mean Bagshot? I heard.”
“What do you mean, you heard?”
“Dancer told me. Not to worry. I had a good feeling about you, young man.”
“You mean to tell me you knew this would happen?” said Jonathan, incensed.
“No, my dear boy,” said Screed. “But I heard how you conducted yourself with great authority. I must say, my opinion of you has greatly increased, when I learned about how you protected her and set those bonded women free. That was unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” said Jonathan. “It was absolutely necessary. I would never consider myself a gentleman unless I could protect those who cannot protect themselves.”
“That is precisely the sort of person I want to support. Now, Jonathan,” said Uriah Screed. “I have your gold watch and I shall return it.” He held the watch out to Jonathan, and Jonathan handed him the hundred pounds he had borrowed against it.
“Your loan was most helpful,” said Jonathan. “And I thank you very much. However, I believe our custom is finished now. Thank you for the watch.”
“Am I to understand that all is well in your world now?” asked Uriah.
“Well, of course there are always hurdles, but I believe things are going jolly well.”
“I see,” said Screed, smiling. He stood there puffing on his cigar, smiling.
“I am unsure to what you are referring,” said Jonathan, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
“Well,” he said, blowing a large cloud of smoke into Jonathan’s face. “I hear you may have a little trouble with your nuptials.”
“I don’t see how that is any concern of yours.”
“It ain’t,” he said. “None of my business at all. I was merely making conversation.” He rocked back and forth on his feet, raising his eyebrows, as though waiting for something.
“Well!” said Jonathan, slightly annoyed. “Out with it! What are you offering?”
“I’m offering aid to a man who needs it. But if that man doesn’t need it, I will not offer it. You blue-bloods are awful testy, ain’t you?”
Jonathan looked at Screed. It was true he had helped him, that was inarguable, but he was so smug, so confident. Should he ask for further help, and if he did, would it make him in this brash man’s debt forever? Jonathan had to think quickly and so, as he stood before Screed, he calculated the risk.
“If I may be so bold, Mr. Screed, what form would your help take?”
“Well,” said Screed. “It so happens that, as an American, I have quite a bit of experience convincing the upper crust that certain ladies are worthy brides.”
“I see,” said Jonathan. “And what would your price be for this advice?”
“Not a thing, dear boy,” he said. “I just take great pleasure in making people happy. Of course, I would very much appreciate a good recommendation if you should know of a fellow who could use my help. One hand washes the other, if you see my meaning.”
“I would do that, regardless, Mr. Screed, as you have been a very great help for me. And so, I should be very grateful for your help.”
“That’s more like it!” he said, smiling and blowing a large cloud of cigar smoke in Jonathan’s face. “So, this is my advice: your lady love is a singer, if I am not mistaken.”
“Not only is she a singer, Mr. Screed, but she is the most celebrated songstress in all of Europe.”
“Well, ain’t that nice? Myself, I go more for the dancing girls, but to each his own.”
“I mean to say she is a classical singer of the highest order. She is beautiful and accomplished and widely admired.”
“Sure, sure,” said Screed condescendingly. “My point is that you should use her skills.”
“Her skills as a singer?”
“Sure. Why not. You said she charmed you. You seem to suggest she could charm the birds from the trees. So, let her.”
“Very well, but how would I do that?”
“You simply hire an orchestra to play for a ball up there in the bowels of Lincolnshire. As it happens, I know a fellow who would love to go there and play. His name is Cipriani Potter. I call him Little Chip!”
“That is the man who accompanies Garance!” said Jonathan in astonishment.
“Yeah, I know. He’s the ticket. Talk to him and get him to put together an orchestra. Then you invite the girlie to come to the ball an
d make sure she has suitable attire to outshine all those drab debutantes. Dance with her, have her discuss things with your mother and your sister. She’s impressive ain’t she?”
“By Jove, yes!” said Jonathan. “She would impress anyone who took the time to get to know her.”
“Here, then,” said Uriah. “I will give you the address of Chip Potter and you get him to arrange an orchestra. You put on a big splash and invite all the mucky mucks to your shindig. Then, at the end of the ball, you get her to sing. That would be the icing on the cake. Get me?”
“Barely,” said Jonathan. “But I do think I understand now. Thank you for this address. I shall go there presently and introduce myself. I shall ask Garance to sing, and I shall arrange for everything to be prepared exactly as it should. Thank you, Mr. Screed. I am deeply in your debt.”
“No, you ain’t. It’s all in a day’s work. Relax. And listen here: you get back in touch with D’Arcy Dancer. He needs some introductions into good society.”
“D’Arcy Dancer? Why would I do that?” said Jonathan, although he took the proffered card.
“Because he’s a stand-up chap and you’re a stand-up chap, and I think you two would do good things together.”
“I see,” said Jonathan. “And what’s in it for me, if I may be so bold?”
“Well, you’ll make a hell of a friend, for one thing, and I will make those two moneylenders disappear.”
“Disappear?”
“I have ways to convince them to peddle their pills elsewhere. I like you, Jonathan Anderson-Reese, and I like the way you operate. Impressive.”
“Well thank you, sir. I shall be in touch with Mr. Dancer, and I thank you very much for the help with those frightful moneylenders. I certainly hope this works!” said Jonathan.
“Works every time,” said Screed, although Jonathan had already left the building.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Preparations
That evening, Jonathan went to a concert featuring Garance at the Crystal Palace with his two friends Peter Nunn and Simon Northridge, who were in town for the weekend. Both of them were in a particularly jolly mood, and, for the first time in several months, Jonathan was able to join them.
“It still shocks my system that you are having a dalliance with that French crumpet, Johnny,” said Peter. “It makes me wonder if I shouldn’t go out and find me a singer to woo.”
“It seems to me you already have staked your claim to my sister, unless I am very much mistaken,” said Jonathan.
“You are very right in that,” said Simon, who had been party to the wooing of Cecily. “In fact, dear boy, I think there may be wedding bells in the offing for this chap. We graduate in the spring, don’t you know and, as they say, in spring, young men’s’ fancy turns to thoughts of love.”
“I confess you are quite right, Jonathan,” said Peter. “I do wonder if you would approve of such a union.”
“Approve? I think it is grand!” he replied. “And in fact, I have just the thing to make things right for you and for me. I shall be having a Leap Year Ball this year, on the 29th of February, and I want you both as my guests.”
“Capital!” said Peter. “Where will you have it?”
“Why, what do you mean? At the manor, of course.”
“In Lincolnshire? It’s a bit of a trek isn’t it? I mean, for a ball. Will the London folk come?”
“They will if they know who else will be there. Anyone who’s anyone will be there. And a special command performance is in the works. But hush! The performance is about to begin!”
Simon guffawed. “I say, old chap. Just because your lover is performing doesn’t mean we suddenly reinvent the concept of listening, for goodness sakes. I can listen and talk at the same time, can’t you?”
“Please Simon. I do want to hear her. This is her last London performance.”
“What?” said Peter and Simon in unison.
“Whatever do you mean?” said Peter. “She had a full season ahead of her. All that rot.”
“Well, this is her last performance. I have it straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“Blimey!” said Simon. “I’m dashed!”
What Peter and Simon did not know was that earlier in the day, Jonathan had met with Garance and told her about the proposal with Uriah Screed, and she had agreed wholeheartedly. She thought the idea of singing at the ball was wonderful, and she thought the idea of getting to know the family before they passed judgment on her was also a good idea. Of course, with the Royal mourning period still ongoing, they had to be discreet.
“I must confess, Jonathan, I never really believed you loved me in that way. I am so used to being the plaything of the wealthy, and I assumed you would be marrying some useful bit of aristocratic lace to appease your family and then carried on an affair with me, the way they do in the romances.”
“Would that be acceptable to you?” asked Jonathan. A mischievous smile played on his lips.
Garance, horrified, looked at him in dismay. For a split second, she thought she had lost him, but then, when she saw his face, she knew he was toying with her. “You cad!” she said, and threw a pile of musical scores at him, causing him to have to duck out of the way. “But listen, mon cher, I need to meet with Monsieur Cipriano Potter. Shall we go now?”
“Of course. There is no time like the present!” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Little Chip
Half an hour later, after a torturous ride through Hyde Park, which was sort of like a jaunt in the country right in the middle of London, the two of them pulled up in front of the home of the great pianist and composer, Cipriani Potter on Gloucester Road in South Kensington. Nathan, who had become a much better driver than he had been before all the night adventures, managed to get them there in record time. He leapt from the top of the carriage and opened the door for the two lovers.
“‘Ear you be, me ly-dee,” he said in a mock cockney accent, which struck Jonathan as funny because he, in fact, had a real Cockney accent that he endeavored to hide.
“Thank you, my good man. I hope the maestro is home.”
Jonathan uncharacteristically followed Garance up the front walk to the door, where he allowed her to knock on the front door. To his surprise, the great man himself answered the door, and when he saw Garance, he was overjoyed.
“Dear God in Heaven!” he exclaimed. “What have I done? Either it is momentously frightful or monumentally good!”
“Cipriani, I want you to meet my fiancé, Sir Jonathan Anderson-Reese, Earl of Yarmouth.”
Potter looked at him in disbelief. “An Earl? And a rather handsome one too. You do have charms to soothe the savage breast, my pet,” he said to Garance. “Sir Jonathan, I am glad to meet you.”
“Please, maestro, just call me Jonathan.”
“Well then, if I have to do that, I must insist you call me Little Chip. All my friends do.”
“Really?” said Jonathan with a smile. “Not the most august of nicknames, is it?”
“It suits me just fine.” Cipriani Potter was a tall, lean man, with a shock of rather too-long, curly black hair and very heavy eyebrows that gave him the look of a wild Scottish chieftain. He, himself, was excessively handsome and slim, and he gave off a strangely calming influence, which served to slow Jonathan’s normally frantically quick speech to a comprehensible level.
Little Chip invited the couple into his well-appointed drawing room, which featured a beautiful Broadwood piano and what appeared to be a Stradivarius violin. And there, sitting in a wing-backed chair, was none other than the elusive Mr. D’Arcy Dancer.
“Good Lord!” said Jonathan. “Is that you, Mr. Dancer?”
“Do call me D’Arcy,” he said in a mellifluous Irish accent.
“Well of course, D’Arcy. Call me Jonathan. I am very glad to see you, but I had no idea you knew Mr. Potter. Little Chip, I should say,” he said correcting himself.
Little Chip laughed.
Jo
nathan looked back at the violin. “Is that what I think it is?” asked Jonathan, admiring the workmanship of the beautiful Cremonese violin.
“Yes it is. And it sounds even better than it looks!” said Little Chip. “But surely you didn’t come here to discuss violins.”
“No, in fact, we didn’t,” said Jonathan. “I have a request to make of you. While I know full-well that this is asking a great deal of you, I would beg a boon of you.” Jonathan was finding it very difficult to speak to this man and it was partly because he was famous and extremely handsome, and partly because the thing he was asking him was so outlandish that he had trouble putting it into words. And D’Arcy was looking at him with a bemused expression, as though he expected him to trip and fall at any moment.
