up in. They were all I had, you see. Pirates deprived me of the rest.”
Once again Nicholas found himself gaping. “Pirates? What pirates?”
“The ones we unfortunately encountered two days after setting sail from Port Royal.” Benedict smiled at his young brother’s decidedly sceptical look. “Sailing through the Caribbean is not the same as taking a boat trip down the Thames, dear boy. It is still a dangerous place. Many people of varying nationalities, fleeing from the law, seek refuge there. Piracy is still quite common, believe me.”
“What happened?” Nicholas prompted, suddenly resembling an excited schoolboy, and Benedict was of a mind to be indulgent.
“The captain of our ship, being a Christian soul, could not find it within himself to blithely ignore what appeared to be a vessel in distress, and gave the order to heave-to. Grappling-hooks were thrown with remarkable speed, and before the captain and crew realised what was happening we were being boarded by a horde of cut-throats. The captain and crew of our ship gave a good account of themselves, as did a couple of the passengers, and we soon had the rogues returning to their own vessel, but not before they had deprived us of some of the food on board, and several other items of worth, including my trunk, which contained not only my clothes, but my valuables, too. Consequently all I was left with were the clothes I stood up in. And, as you can imagine, by the time we had docked in Liverpool, I was heartily glad to be rid of them, even to exchange them for the ones I’m wearing now.”
Nicholas could well understand this and smiled, until a thought suddenly occurred to him. “How on earth did you manage to reach London without money? Surely you didn’t walk?”
“Thankfully, I wasn’t reduced to that, though it could hardly have been more uncomfortable than travelling by the common stage. I have grown accustomed to doing without many creature comforts during my time in Jamaica, but sitting for hours in a vehicle that smells of perspiration, onions, and various other unpleasant odours was almost more than I could bear.”
His pained expression almost had his young brother writhing in laughter. “No, I still retained my pocket watch, which I was able to sell for half its real value. I swear the rogue who purchased it in Liverpool thought it had been stolen.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Nicholas responded when he had gained sufficient control of himself. “No one would take you for a member of the peerage!”
“That isn’t strictly true,” Ben corrected. “Your estimable butler, unless I much mistake the matter, managed to penetrate the disguise.” He glanced round as the door opened, his face brightening. “And here he is, and armed, I see, with more of that delicious apple tart.”
“I thought, perhaps, you could manage another mouthful, your grace,” Figgins said, placing the tray containing the food and brandy down on a convenient table near his master’s chair. “Will there be anything else you require, sir?”
“Yes, you’d best make the bed up in the spare room, and look out one of my night-shirts.” Nicholas turned his attention back to his brother as soon as Figgins had left the room. “There’s only a skeleton staff now at the house in Grosvenor Square. The place hasn’t been used since Father died.”
He searched in vain for a sign of remorse on his brother’s handsome face, and yet he knew how fond Benedict had been of their father. “He passed away peacefully in his sleep. He didn’t suffer,” he assured him, and this time Benedict responded with a softly spoken, “I’m glad,” and then promptly changed the subject by enquiring after their sister.
“Oh, Connie’s in fine fettle. Put on some weight since the last time you saw her. Still,” he shrugged, “only to be expected at her age. Increased the progeny by three since you’ve been away. Five of the little blighters she’s produced now. Which says something for Lansdown, I suppose. I have a deal of respect for our dear brother-in-law. Poor chap must possess the patience of a saint to put up with our bird-witted sister.”
Benedict, willingly accepting a further slice of the apple tart and a full measure of the brandy, could not suppress a smile. No doubt Constance continued to treat Nicholas as though he were still a mischievous schoolboy, and his evident resentment was quite understandable. He decided to make his own feelings known.
“I perceive a great change in you, Nick.” He took a moment to study the very fashionable attire. “Apeing the dandy yourself now, I see.”
“One must dress, dear brother.” The pained expression returned as his attention was drawn to that gaudy neck decoration once more. “Just as well you did come straight here. Wouldn’t do to let people see you looking like that, you know. There’s the name to consider, and all that,” he remarked with quaint snobbery. “We’ll rise early tomorrow and pay a visit to a tailor…Or perhaps several.”
The following morning Benedict discovered that his brother’s idea of rising early was not quite the same as his own. So, after he had consumed a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs and buttered rolls, washed down with several cups of freshly-brewed coffee, and there were still no signs that Nicholas was ready to leave the comfort of his bedchamber and face the new day, Benedict decided to pass the time by exploring the metropolis to see what changes had taken place during his years away.
He stepped outside to discover a morning that was both dry and bright, and blessedly free from the evil choking fog that often shrouded the city even at this time of year. His athletic, long-striding gait quickly brought him to the end of the street and into a wider thoroughfare, where hordes of people were now busily going about their daily work.
This was the part of the city that he knew best of all, where pretty girls in white pinafores and black taffeta bonnets were parading the fashionable streets and squares dispensing milk from the buckets they carried, their cries mingling with those of other hawkers, eager to sell their wares. This was where he had happily frittered away his time, and money, paying visits to friends and enjoying the many pleasurable activities the capital had to offer any young gentleman of wealth and rank. This was what, five years ago, he had very much resented being forced to leave behind.
He remembered clearly the bitterness he had felt when his father had insisted that he travel to Jamaica and learn to respect the value of money by taking charge of the family’s plantation out there. Their parting had been an unpleasant one, with many biting recriminations uttered on both sides. Not many months had passed, however, before Benedict had come to realise that his father’s actions had been totally justified, and he could only be thankful that the majority of letters exchanged during their years apart had been full of warmth and understanding; his only real regret now being that he had not returned to England in time to see his father one last time before his death.
Yes, those years in Jamaica had changed him completely. He was no longer that care-for-nobody, that frivolous, pleasure-seeking fribble whose only ambition was to cut a dash in society, and who squandered vast sums of money without a thought to whose hard work financed his pleasures or from whence the money had come. Older and, hopefully, wiser now, he believed he could take his father’s place and carry out his duties as head of the family in a responsible and caring manner. The cut of a jacket, the set of a cravat and a looking-glass shine on a pair of boots were no longer important to him. A sigh escaped him. Nevertheless he supposed it behoved him to take his brother’s advice, and attire himself as befitted his station in life before returning to the fashionable world, a world that, if the truth were known, he had little desire to re-enter.
The stink of rotting refuse and equally unpleasant odours suddenly assailing his nostrils induced him to take stock of his surroundings. Without being aware of it, he had walked ever eastwards into those areas of the capital where most people of his class
