Page 60 of Once a Gentleman
Perhaps four of the five ships had been lost, although who knew if others might yet return. And clearly the venture had been ill-conceived in some way or other, the route or the captains chosen to head the voyage, maybe. But Kit’s father had sent the ships, he had used the funds for their intended purpose.
His memory would still be blackened for some by his suicide, but his fellow men of business, more practical than religious in their hearts, would care far more for the knowledge that Mr. Hewlett had not defrauded them intentionally.
It all left him reeling and lightheaded. He was vaguely aware that Robinson was speaking to him, uncharacteristic concern in his voice, but he couldn’t focus on the words.
He looked up, startled, when a cup clinked down on the desk before him. Robinson waved away the clerk who had entered without Kit even noticing, and gestured at the cup. “Tea, it’ll buck you up a bit,” he said grimly. “I don’t partake of anything stronger, I’m afraid.”
“Nor do I, very often,” Kit said through numb lips, and took up the cup and drained it in one draught. It might not have bucked him up, precisely, but at least it eased the constriction in his throat. “Forgive me, sir. I have been—greatly surprised. I had not thought to ever hear from Jo—from Mr. Colton again. And this. This news. I—I cannot fathom it. My father’s name will be cleared by this, in part. And…and I had never thought to have such a fortune again.”
It seemed entirely unreal. Three thousand pounds. Enough, even if invested in the most conservative manner, to give him the same amount per year that Andrew had been paying him; enough that he need not be Andrew’s dependent any longer. Perhaps he couldn’t pay for his share of the servants and fine wine and French tailors Andrew seemed to consider necessary for existence, but he need not be Andrew’s secretary any longer.
He could be a gentleman of leisure again, even if a shabby one who drank gin rather than brandy.
An equal.
And if Andrew’s infatuation faded, as Kit still feared it would, then Kit would have enough to retire to the country somewhere, to live quietly in a cottage and never need to beg anyone for employment or for charity. He could be alone, lonely, and forlorn, but not dependent.
Robinson shifted in his chair with a creak of springs, and Kit startled out of his thoughts and looked at him. His shrewd dark eyes had narrowed a little, as if he saw more in Kit’s face than he had been aware of displaying.
“I congratulate you, Mr. Hewlett. On the acquisition of this independence, and also on the vindication of your father’s character. For I agree this will go far to do so.” Kit swallowed hard and nodded. “But I would recommend that you allow me to make inquiries on your behalf to verify all the facts of this: that the ship has indeed made port, and so on. And I can also write to this Colton on your behalf as your solicitor, if you will allow me that title, and tell him that he may notify the bank of his choice in Portsmouth, so that you can appear there to receive the funds. Hopefully he will simply arrange it, and that will be the end of it. I don’t wish to be pessimistic, and I expect that will be how it goes. But pardon me, I do recall this Colton’s name from the inquiries I made before. And if he is the son?” Kit nodded again. “If you’ve known him all your life, then it seems he might not have shown himself terribly loyal to you before, when push came to shove.”
“I would appreciate it.” He couldn’t imagine any reason why Josiah would invent such a story, but it warmed him to have Robinson so ready to look out for his interests, and to exert himself on Kit’s behalf. “I doubt there is anything not above-board in this. He was loyal to his father. I cannot blame him for that.”
Robinson shrugged and sighed. “Perhaps I’m a sentimental old fool,” he said, and Kit choked a little on the laugh those words shocked out of him. Robinson was, in Kit’s experience, as sentimental as the iron fireplace poker leaning against the wall. “Or perhaps I’m just partial to you, Mr. Hewlett. But he ought to have stood by you. I’m not one to visit the sins of the fathers, and all that nonsense. You were a university student at the time. If he didn’t help you then, I’m not inclined to assume his character has improved much in the interim. We will investigate, simply to be on the safe side.”
That little spark of warmth kindling in Kit’s chest blossomed into real affection. Robinson was partial to him? That seemed as unlikely as sentimental foolishness. But it had been so very, very long since anyone expressed any such feeling, without wanting anything in return. And Kit knew without having to think about it that Robinson was the type of man his father would have liked and trusted: businesslike, old-fashioned, blunt, and knowledgeable.
Kit drew a deep breath, his lungs finally permitting him to expand them to the fullest. And with that breath, a weight fell away at last, a weight he had carried for so long it had become a part of him, one he was hardly aware of.
He had opened himself to Andrew far more than he had ever meant to. He had formed something of an alliance with Samuel against Mattson and his barely veiled blackmail.
And now, it seemed, he had acquired another friend without even realizing it. Someone who knew the truth about him and yet didn’t despise him for it after all.
Someone, in short, upon whom he could rely.
He could continue as he had before meeting Andrew, before being pulled back into a world of friendships and relationships and intimacy, and withdraw defensively behind the walls he had erected long ago, walls meant to prevent further damage done by people like Josiah.
Or he could simply—let the weight fall away.
Good God. He was no longer alone in the world, truly. Even if Andrew threw him over.
He was not alone.
“I would be very grateful, Mr. Robinson,” he said. “If this is true, then—my prospects have materially improved. And if it is not true, I will be even more grateful for the benefit of your experience in handling the matter.”
Robinson assured him that he would look into the matter with the utmost diligence, and Kit departed the office in a daze, hardly aware of the clerks’ farewells or of the rain dripping down the back of his neck as he left the stairs and emerged onto the street.
He had not thought to send one of the clerks for a hack; he didn’t see one on the street, and he lacked the patience to find one.
Rain or not, he would walk home, and he would perhaps catch his death of cold, but at least he would bemoving. He found city life horribly confining, smelly and crowded and unwholesome. But at least on a day like this, with nature washing it clean, he could almost pretend he wasn’t trapped in Portsmouth.
And he desperately needed to clear his head.
His head was both much clearer and much wetter by the time he ran up the steps, and Peter was there to whisk away his greatcoat and cluck over the state of his boots.
Kit made his way up the stairs, still damp and chilled—and hardly able to comprehend what had happened, despite the refreshing effect of the rain.
He was no longer destitute; in fact, most would consider him to be a wealthy man. Compared to Andrew’s vast fortune—or, in fact, to the fortune Kit would have enjoyed had his father not ruined them—it was insignificant. But when Andrew returned…Kit could accept his love, and return his own, without any obligation. Without anything between them but their feelings.
