Page 70 of Once a Gentleman
Kit looked down at the desk and at the two ledgers he had stacked neatly by the edge awaiting his attention this morning. He could complete the accounts and carry on quite as usual.
Or, since he was already ignoring Andrew’s explicitly stated wishes, he might as well take all of the actions he had been putting off as being presumptuous and high-handed. In for a penny, in for a pound.
He rang the bell and unlocked the drawer that contained some of Andrew’s personal papers, including the vowels he had collected in a hundred games of piquet with his drunken friends.
Samuel rapped at the door and stepped inside. “You rang, sir?”
“Mr. Turner has written and dismissed me,” Kit said, bluntly and without preamble. “He does not expect to be home for some time, and wishes me to be gone by the time he returns. However, I am not leaving.”
Samuel’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed not, sir,” he said.
Kit stared, a little nonplussed. He had expected—he wasn’t quite sure what, but not instant acceptance, at least. “I beg your pardon?”
“Of course you will not be leaving, sir. Mr. Turner doesn’t know what he is about. Did you ring to tell me that, or is there something else?”
Despite everything, Kit felt the corners of his lips twitching up. Oh, he would have missed Samuel, had he gone.
“Yes, there is. Mattson requires dealing with at last. I have been putting it off out of a desire not to overstep in Mr. Turner’s absence. But as I am now overstepping simply by remaining in this house, I no longer care.”
He had, very suddenly, ceased to care about a great many things, he realized. In the past, he had attempted to keep some kind of distance from Samuel and from the other servants, in order to maintain his authority as delegated by Andrew. Now that he had no authority at all but what he was willing to simply assert for himself, there was no need. And it felt oddly freeing.
“His behavior has been unacceptable for some time, as we have discussed previously, though perhaps not quite so openly,” Kit went on. “And as Mattson has been most unhappy since Mr. Turner sailed, as the house is no longer supplied with so much brandy and there are no longer entertainments for him to enjoy, he has been simply intolerable. While I appreciate the initiative you were willing to take in the matter, I have come to an alternate solution. I had thought to consult Mr. Turner before implementing it. I am now willing to take responsibility for it on my own.”
“Very good, sir,” Samuel said, sounding only very slightly disappointed. Kit let it pass. If he were forced to live in this house as Mattson’s nominal subordinate, he would also be rather disappointed to miss the opportunity to kill him.
“I will need your assistance, however, as I cannot approach that fellow Dowling myself, even if I were willing to do so.”
“Dowling,” Samuel said slowly. “What does he have to do with it?”
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘to put all of one’s eggs in one basket’?”
Samuel nodded.
“Well, then,” Kit went on, “in this case, we will put all the rotten eggs in one basket, and then—walk swiftly away from the basket.” He held up the papers in his hand and passed them to Samuel for his appraisal. “Dowling owes Mr. Turner some four thousand pounds in debts of honor.”
Samuel flipped through the stack. “Indeed he does, sir,” he said, his eyebrows rising again. “I wonder that he would continue to play.”
“He continued to play, no doubt, because he did not believe that Mr. Turner would ever demand he pay them. But we will, on his behalf. Or, rather, we will demand that he either pay them or employ Mattson at an exorbitant salary that will eclipse his current wage, and also extend to Mattson the same liberties he enjoyed here: to wit, free access to the wine cellar and to any festivities Dowling may host. We will return some portion of the notes to Dowling as a gesture of goodwill, and retain the others as insurance. And I hope that you will suggest to him that he will be exposed to all of his boon companions as a man who does not pay his debts of honor should he welch on the deal.”
Samuel looked through the papers again, nodding. At last he grinned, an expression so unfamiliar on his usually sober face that Kit blinked at him in a little bit of shock. Samuel was really rather handsome when he smiled like that.
“Sir, have you considered leaving your current profession and taking a post on Lord Wellington’s staff?”
Kit stared at him, and then burst into laughter. “No, though I thank you for the compliment. Can you imagine what the general’s other aides would think of me?”
“You would have them eating out of your hand in no time at all, sir. And this is an excellent plan. I am more than happy to see to it. I will have no difficulty at all in dealing with Mr. Dowling, no matter how unpleasant he may become.”
Kit had no doubt of it. Samuel might appear lean at first glance, but his height concealed a surprising amount of muscle, as he had noticed once when seeing Samuel standing beside an equally tall but actually very thin fellow who had delivered the post.
“I have the utmost confidence in you, and I am—Samuel, I am most grateful for this. Mattson’s knowledge of—not everyone in this household has been discreet. I have been quite careless myself.”
“Don’t give it another thought, sir.” Samuel paused, tucking the papers away in his pocket carefully, and then looked up, his dark eyes sharp. “And other than this, what changes will you be making to the household’s organization, if I may ask?”
Kit smiled at him, leaning back in his chair. Oh, he had been wanting to do this since the moment he set foot in this ramshackle place. “As you are now the butler, Enderby, I encourage and in fact adjure you to organize everything in whatever manner you see fit, and to make any changes necessary to run things in an orderly, respectable manner. As respectable as possible, in fact. Downright dull, if you please.”
Another of those wide, unexpected grins flashed across Samuel’s—Enderby’s—face, and then was gone again. “Luncheon will be laid out at one o’clock, sir, and dinner will be served at seven precisely. And if you are amenable, sir, my widowed cousin is a housekeeper of great skill, and currently seeking a position.”
Kit waved a hand. “As you see fit. Send for her, I’ll interview her, and in the meantime, have someone dust the bloody banisters. Also breakfast, Samuel. Eggs, for God’s sake. And have Peter fetch Jacob with the carriage. I need to go out and call on Mr. Robinson.”
Samuel departed humming and with a spring in his step, promising to go and see Dowling that very morning, and Kit was left alone to contemplate everything he had just set in motion and all the tasks that awaited him.
He would need to see Robinson at once, of course, and countermand every order Andrew had given him. There would be Samuel’s cousin to interview, and Mrs. Felton to talk round, and adjustments to be made to the household expenses to accommodate eggs and bacon rather than brandy. They really ought to have a second footman. A problem had arisen with that cotton mill Andrew had invested in so heavily, with some of the equipment smashed and broken by a gang of discontented workers who had broken in during the night.
In short, he would keep himself far too busy to brood.
And when Andrew came home—well, when Andrew came home he would plant him a very solid facer and demand an explanation. And he could not allow himself to think beyond that, or he would go mad.
