Callum: Regency Rockstars

by Sasha Cottman

  “Thank you, Mister Green, but I think we should wait,” she replied.

  The next and final note arrived from Reid just over an hour later. It was short and to the point. The Noble Lords had been forced to perform this evening without Callum. Though the missive from Reid was brief, Eliza could read between the lines. Her brother was livid. Whenever Callum finally made an appearance, he was going to be on the receiving end of a blistering tirade from Reid and the others.

  “This is utterly ridiculous,” she muttered.

  There was a good chance that her brother would be throwing Callum out of Follett House this evening. The least she could do was to go and see Lord and Lady Sharp and let them know that their unreliable son would soon be darkening their doorstep once more.

  She raced upstairs and rang the bell for her maid. With a fresh change of clothes and her hair neatly fixed, she took the Follett carriage to Seymour Street.

  Eliza had rarely been to Callum’s family home, Reid having been at great pains over the past ten months to keep her away. She did, however, have a friendly relationship with Lady Sharp.

  Lady Sharp received her in one of the formal drawing rooms. “Lady Eliza. What a lovely surprise.”

  Eliza handed her coat and hat to a maid, then took the seat which Lady Sharp graciously offered. “I must apologize for the ungodly hour of my visit. I don’t normally make a habit of arriving on people’s doorsteps in the middle of the night uninvited. But I am concerned for Callum and this will not wait until morning.”

  Lady Sharp frowned. It had only been a matter of weeks since Eliza had seen her at Callum’s investiture ceremony, but she seemed to have aged somewhat in that time. There was a definite look of weariness about her.

  “Callum has difficult days. I think we all know that he has experienced some private troubles since his return to England. He and his father are trying to talk through those issues as best as possible,” said Lady Sharp. She sat stiffly in her soft floral chair, her hands quietly throttling the handkerchief which she held tightly. Eliza met her red-rimmed eyes, then looked away. Lady Sharp was composed, but she was barely holding herself together. Something was not right.

  “I do not wish to be disrespectful, but I am not sure that Callum’s discussions with Sir Thomas are bearing fruit,” replied Eliza.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for instance, Callum was supposed to be playing at a Noble Lords concert tonight but instead he has gone missing. No one knows where he is. To say that my brother and the rest of the group are disappointed would be a gross understatement,” she said.

  Lady Sharp’s bottom lip quivered. Something was definitely not right. “Callum is sitting with his father. They have been working on estate matters for most of the afternoon. I can only surmise that they got busy and he forgot the time.”

  Eliza considered mentioning that it was almost eleven o’clock at night, but the worried look on Lady Sharp’s face held her back. Instead, she focused on her relief at knowing Callum was not currently out getting violently drunk in some dingy tavern or smoking in an opium den.

  “Do you know when Callum is expecting to leave and return to Windmill Street?” She privately hoped that if a sober Callum made it back to Follett House before Reid returned, she might be able to help avoid the inevitable showdown.

  “I can check with him and his father. If you would excuse me, I shall go and ask,” she said. Lady Sharp rose from her chair, leaving Eliza to wait on her own.

  When Lady Sharp did return a short time later, it was with a stern-faced Callum on her heels.

  “Why are you here?” he demanded.

  His mother gasped, but Eliza waved her concerns away. She was quite accustomed to the rough and oft impolite behavioral standards of Reid and his friends.

  “I am here because you failed to turn up for tonight’s performance of the Noble Lords. The others had to go on in public without you; you let us all down,” she said.

  “Shit,” muttered Callum. Eliza was relieved that he had the good grace to blush at having sworn in front of his mother.

  “I must apologize for my son’s uncouth language,” said Lady Sharp. Eliza simply shrugged. She wasn’t about to tell Callum’s mother that her son regularly said far worse in her company.

  “Reid sent several notes over the duration of the evening asking where you were. I thought you might like a small warning of the impending storm.” She handed him Reid’s last missive. He quickly read it, then screwed it up into a tight ball. She had expected him to at least react to her brother’s terse words, but Callum’s face showed little emotion.

  Anger flared inside and she threw up her hands. “Don’t you care that you failed the rest of the Noble Lords?”

  He huffed. “It’s a stupid musical group thought up by Owen in order to get his way back into the beds of other men’s wives. In the overall scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter.”

  Lady Sharp placed a hand on his arm. “These are your friends, Callum. They need you. And you need them, both now and in the future.”

  They all turned at the sound of shuffling feet; Sir Thomas hobbled slowly into the room. He was hunched over a walking stick. He took a couple of steps toward them before stopping and swaying unsteadily on his feet. Callum immediately rushed to his side and placing a hand under his armpit, held him upright.

  The baron mustered a grim smile. “Thank you. I didn’t realize that such a short walk would take so much out of me.”

  He stiffened when his gaze fell on Eliza. Silence hung in the room for a long moment before he finally spoke again. “Lady Eliza. This is a late hour for a social call,” he said.

  Eliza was too busy taking in the frail frame and pale face of Sir Thomas to answer straight away. Callum’s father looked deathly ill. Thoughts of raising the issue of Callum having missed this evening’s concert quickly fled her mind. What is going on?

  “Lady Eliza came to escort me back to Windmill Street. I inadvertently missed a performance by the Noble Lords this evening and she wanted to let me know,” said Callum.

  He helped his father over to a nearby chair. Sir Thomas dropped into it and let out a pained sigh. “Oh, that’s better.”

  The rest of the group stood awkwardly in silence. Lady Sharp picked at a thread on her shawl, while Callum plumped a cushion behind his father’s back. Eliza was left staring at the floor and praying that someone would offer up a way for her to make her polite excuses and get the hell out of there.

  “If you have apologies to make, Callum, then you had best be heading back to Follett House. I think you and I have worked late enough for today,” said Sir Thomas.

  He cleared his throat and Eliza reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet his; tired eyes stared back at her.

  “Thank you for coming to collect my son, Lady Eliza. I promise he won’t miss any other important appointments going forward. If you have a list of your concert dates, please send it over; I shall endeavor not to keep him tied up with estate business on those days.”

  She nodded, ashamed that he was placing her concerns ahead of his own when he clearly had other more pressing matters to deal with.

  “I will arrange to have my diary brought up to scratch as soon as Lady Eliza and I return to Follett House,” said Callum. “Well, it is late, so the two of us should be getting back now. I expect Reid and the others will want to speak to us before anyone turns in for bed.” He looked straight at Eliza as he spoke.

  She was gripped with a near-overwhelming need to pull him into her embrace and tell him that nothing apart from his family mattered. If Reid had a problem with Callum’s priorities, she was more than ready to set him straight.

  Something was very wrong in the Sharp household; Sir Thomas looked for all the world like a man at death’s door, while Lady Sharp and Callum were both tense and on edge.

  Callum’s increasingly odd behavior over the past weeks now came into clearer focus. It was obvious that he was dealing with a crisis in his family, and E
liza was certain he was keeping it from the rest of the Noble Lords.

  And from me.

  Callum and Eliza left a short time later. Eliza headed out to the carriage first, and Callum was grateful for her polite discretion. It allowed him time to linger inside the front door of his parents’ house. After bidding his mother a good night, he slipped a bottle of gin out of his coat pocket and took a long drink. He made certain to spill a little on his jacket and cravat.

  He was under no illusion as to what would be waiting for him as soon as he set foot in Follett House. The rest of the Noble Lords would be looking to tear strips off him.

  Sir Thomas remained adamant that news of his impending demise was to be kept secret, which left Callum in the difficult position of not being able to reveal the truth of what was happening. He couldn’t tell any of his closest friends and that included Eliza.

  The situation gave him little choice other than to maintain the story of him being a drunkard, even on days like today when he’d barely had anything to drink.

  He climbed into the carriage and took the seat opposite to Eliza. Fooling the rest of his friends into thinking he was drunk was not going to be a problem. Getting Eliza to remain quiet about what she had seen tonight might be a more difficult challenge.

  She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand in warning.

  “Whatever you are thinking you saw this evening, you are wrong. My father hurt his back a few days ago and has been in great pain ever since. He is not sleeping well and as a result, neither is my mother,” he said.

  She looked away and he could tell she was contemplating her response, considering what she should say to such an evident lie. He let out a small sigh when Eliza finally turned back to him and nodded.

  “If that is what you want me to tell people, then so be it,” she replied.

  Callum didn’t want anyone discussing his father. The moment someone mentioned the health of Baron Sharp, the rumor mill that lay at the heart of London society would take notice. Questions would be raised as to why Lord and Lady Sharp had suddenly stopped appearing at social events. The other Royal Jubilee Mines investors would start to wonder what was going on and seek to take control of the company.

  “Actually, what I would ask of you is to forget about your visit to my home this evening. My father’s temporary ailment is no one else’s business. And when I say no one, that includes the inhabitants of Follett House,” he said.

  She flinched, which left Callum immediately feeling like an utter heel at having treated her so coolly. Eliza had only ventured out tonight because of her loyalty to him, and what had he done to repay her? Issued her with a callous, hard demand to keep her mouth shut.

  His father’s warning about the gold mine and the potential impact of its loss on the Sharp family was the only thing which kept him from taking Eliza into his confidence. He trusted her—confident that if he did reveal the truth, she would keep it safe. But he had made a solemn vow to his father and not even for Eliza would he dare to break it.

  The rest of the short journey back to Windmill Street was conducted in silence. Eliza stared out the window into the semidarkness of the London streets; a frown of worry sat on her brow.

  As they neared Follett House, Callum pulled out his bottle of gin once more and took a swig. He swallowed. Then he took a second swig and held it in his mouth, washing it around. He swallowed some of it, then left the remainder to sit under his tongue.

  As the carriage drew up out the front of Reid and Eliza’s home, Callum looked out. Lights blazed in most of the upstairs windows and the downstairs ballroom. From the look of it, the rest of the Noble Lords had finally made it home.

  Eliza met his gaze. “If Reid asks where I have been, what am I to tell him?”

  Callum swallowed the rest of the gin before replying. “Tell him you were worried and that you went looking for me. That you found me wandering the streets of St Giles, and after a period of pleading, you managed to convince me to come home with you. It’s not like it’s a complete lie; I have been known to frequent the rough taverns of the slums. He won’t be the least bit surprised to hear that you found me there. You might have some explaining to do, but I am sure you can talk him ’round.”

  She looked at him with weary eyes. He was asking her to lie for him when he had no right.

  Callum reached out a hand, relieved when Eliza took it. “I’m sorry about putting you in this position. I wouldn’t do it unless I felt it was necessary,” he said.

  “Alright, but we do need to talk about this at some point. Whatever it is you are keeping from me and the others, it is too important to remain a secret,” she replied.

  He let go of her hand and reached for the door handle, ready to climb out of the carriage. “I know.”

  Inside the house, they were met by Mister Green, who seemed agitated. He gave a perfunctory bow and hastily announced, “Lord Follett, Lord Grant, and Lord Morrison are waiting in the ballroom. Lord Follett asks that you join them.”

  He gave another brief bow, then beat a hasty retreat toward the downstairs servants’ quarters. Callum couldn’t blame him; even the staff seemed to have caught wind that a battle royal was about to take place, and no one wanted to be within close range when the first volley was fired.

  At the door to the ballroom, Callum stopped and took hold of Eliza’s hand. “You don’t have to do this, Liz. It is not your fault that I missed tonight’s performance.”

  She pulled her hand out of his grip. “I have agreed to keep silent about your father when he is clearly not well, but don’t think that you are going to shove me into the background when it comes to you or the Noble Lords again.”

  Eliza pushed past him and walked into the ballroom. Callum took another quick swig from the bottle and held the gin in his mouth.

  Reid, Kendal, and Owen were all gathered around the fireplace. They turned as Eliza led Callum through the door. Reid’s face became black as thunder as his gaze moved from his sister to Callum. He made a move in Callum’s direction, but Eliza intercepted him.

  “He is drunk. I suggest you go easy on him. He likely won’t remember this come tomorrow,” she said.

  By announcing that he was drunk, she had cleverly set the scene for him. Now he just had to play his part and convince the others that he was intoxicated.

  Callum swallowed the gin, then held his mouth closed.

  Kendal immediately marched straight up to Callum and angrily wagged a finger in his face. Callum waited until he drew close, sneering at Kendal to keep baiting him.

  Closer. A little bit more.

  “Do you have any idea how bloody embarrassing it was to play without you tonight? We were forced to lie to people and tell them you were ill,” said Kendal.

  Kendal’s ire was clearly up, and he leaned in and got right in Callum’s face.

  Perfect.

  “I was ill. Several times in the last few hours,” slurred Callum.

  Kendal beat a hasty retreat as Callum’s gin vapors hit him squarely in the face.

  “For fuck’s sake, Callum! You stink of gin,” cried Kendal.

  Callum was about to correct him and explain that it wasn’t the gin that he could smell, but rather the juniper berries in the gin since gin was tasteless, but he thought the better of it. He was supposed to be deep in his cups and not capable of conducting a rational conversation.

  “You made us look like fools tonight. I don’t think for one minute that anyone who knows you bought the bullshit story that you were laid up with a stomachache. This cannot go on. I won’t allow it,” said Reid.

  Callum sighed, doing his best to sound like he felt put upon. That Reid was being his usual tiresome, overdramatic self.

  “And what are you going to do about it? Throw me out of the group? That would leave only two talented musicians and a half-baked singer. Not exactly the perfect recipe for winning over the women of the ton or beating the Italians.” He really should shut his mouth and take his punishment, but the days sin
ce he had learned of his father’s illness had been filled with such overwhelming misery that he simply didn’t care. He almost wished he was drunk—then he wouldn’t be having to make the effort to hold back on what he really wanted to say to Reid.

  Owen stepped forward, taking Callum by surprise. The Noble Lords’ violinist was not usually one for these sorts of verbal sparring matches; he much preferred to let his fists do the talking. For a second, Callum was certain he was about to get a fist in the face.

  But Owen was calm, almost sad when he looked at him. “If it comes to it, you can be replaced, Callum. I, for one, would accept someone who is less gifted than yourself but who puts a full effort into their music. That would be better than what we currently have with you.”

  “You don’t mean that,” said Eliza, her voice edged with fear.

  Reid looked to Owen, then to Callum. The hard set of Reid’s jaw gave Callum his first real cause for concern. They might actually be serious.

  “He does mean it. Owen put the Noble Lords together, so it is his call as to the membership of the group. If he says someone is out, then they are gone,” said Reid.

  Callum snorted. Owen was nothing more than puff and bluster. He would never throw him out of the group. The Noble Lords needed him. They just wanted him to come to heel.

  Reid’s face turned a disturbing shade of red and in a matter of seconds he had crossed the floor and was going nose to nose with Callum. “Do you think this is some sort of fucking joke? Is that all the Noble Lords mean to you? Something to do in between indulging your vices. Or, in the case of tonight, something to cast aside when you can’t be bothered putting down your gin bottle?”

  Callum held Reid’s gaze and swallowed deep. He had crossed a line with his fellow musicians. How the hell was he going to get back to the other side?

  “Reid, please. Stop this,” pleaded Eliza.

  Reid stayed where he was, staring Callum down. “Eliza, get out. This is Noble Lords’ business and does not concern you. This is a discussion for group members only.”