Page 30 of With Good Grace
‘It’s Mr Graves, ma’am.’
‘Your curate.’ Olivia bit her lip to prevent herself from smiling at the appropriateness of the clergyman’s name. He was totally humourless and lacked compassion; grave in every sense of the word.
Molly nodded, keeping her eyes focused on the floor. ‘He is starting a bible study class for the benefit of fallen young women, so that they will see the error of their ways. He’s very tolerant in that regard because he knows the good Lord will forgive sinners if they repent.’
‘You have not fallen from the path of righteousness, have you, Molly?’
Finally Molly looked directly at Olivia, anger flashing through her eyes. ‘Absolutely not!’
Olivia valiantly held back another smile. ‘I am relieved to hear you say so.’
‘Mr Graves wants me to help him, and I said I would.’
Olivia raised a brow. ‘Without first referring the matter to me?’
Molly shuffled and said nothing.
‘Oh, very well. Have your afternoon and enjoy it. You have probably earned the pleasure.’
‘Thank you, madam. Shall you manage?’
‘Jane is very capable of taking care of my needs, thank you.’ Olivia was aware that Molly felt threatened by Jane, who could read and write far more competently than Molly and was willing to turn her hand to any occupation with a cheerfulness that did not come naturally to Molly. ‘You might as well go now, if it’s so important to you.’
‘Thank you, madam.’
Molly bobbed a curtsey and left the room. Olivia watched her go, hoping that as Mr Graves had petitioned Molly’s help he might also be on the point of proposing to her. Olivia would see the girl go with gladness in her heart.
Chapter Eight
Jake’s visit to the Garrick Club proved fruitless. The porter who had been on duty on the morning that Sir Hubert had left Surrey in order to visit the club happened to be at his post when Jake arrived. But when questioned he was adamant that Sir Hubert had not been there on the day in question.
‘All members are required to sign in and leave the names of any guests expected,’ he explained. He turned the register around, open at the relevant page. There was no Sir Hubert Grantley recorded on that day, or any of the others that followed it.
‘What if Sir Hubert’s guest arrived and Sir Hubert was not here?’
‘He would be asked to wait here in the lobby, my lord. But I can assure you that no such person arrived asking for Sir Hubert. I have a very good memory and would recall if a guest arrived and no one was expecting him. That does not often happen, you see.’
Jake was obliged to conclude that if Sir Hubert had a meeting planned with the mysterious A.C. it did not take place at this establishment. Having ascertained that the initials A.C. meant nothing to the porter either, he thanked the man and left the club, bound for The Strand. By the time he got there he anticipated that Barber’s office would be open. He had some difficulty locating it since it was situated in an alley off The Strand itself; easy to miss if one did not know it was there.
Jake tapped on the door with the handle of his cane and it was opened almost immediately by a large man with a florid face, a receding hairline that compensated for his expanding waistline, and a beaming smile. That smile faded when he espied Jake.
‘Who are you, sir? I was not expecting you. Do we have an appointment? I only see people by appointment, you know. I’m far too busy otherwise. Inundated with actors desperate for me to represent them, so I am.’ He examined Jake’s face. ‘With a profile such of yours, I can see that you would be an immediate sensation providing, of course, that you can act. That always helps but is not necessarily an essential requirement.’ He laughed as his own feeble joke. ‘What have you done? Would I have seen you perform anywhere recently? I’m sure I would remember, but still…’
‘I am not an actor,’ Jake said.
‘Ah, shame.’ The fat man pulled a mournful face. He didn’t introduce himself, but Jake recognised him as Barber from Parker’s description. ‘The most promising ones never are.’
Barber was not expecting Jake but it was evident that he had been expecting someone else; presumably a lady, given the almost overwhelming amount of cologne he wore and the disappointment he could not hide when he found a male at his door. Jake sneezed as Barber’s almost effeminate perfume tickled his nose, handed him his card and pushed past him into a tastefully appointed outer office. The décor was not in keeping with Barber’s flamboyant character, leaving Jake to suppose that the office had been furnished and decorated by his predecessor.
There was two good quality wing-backed chairs on either side of a small fireplace, with a table between them, upon which rested magazines and theatre notices. The walls were lined with advertisement boards for various productions. Jake recognised the names of some of the leading actors whom Barber had inherited along with this agency. There was another door, leading to what must be Barber’s private office. He could see the edge of a large desk covered in papers, and one wall was taken up by a large daybed. Jake wondered if Barber lived on the premises or if he used that couch for other purposes.
‘Lord Torbay. I have heard of you. Every matron with a daughter of marriageable age despairs of ever catching up with you. I keep my ear to the ground, you see.’ He tapped the side of his bulbous nose. ‘Pays to know what the upper classes get up to when at play. Anyway, Barber’s the name.’ He introduced himself at last, extending a soft, fleshy hand that Jake took in a firm grasp and quickly released, resisting the urge to wipe his own hand on the side of his coat as he did so. Barber was nervous, as evidenced by his sweaty hand. ‘But, of course, you must know who I am. That is why you are here, although I cannot think what service I can be to a gentleman of your stature. No sir, indeed I cannot.’
‘I shall not keep you for long,’ Jake said when Barber paused long enough for him to get a word in edgeways. ‘I represent Mrs Olivia Grantley’s interests.’
Jake examined Barber’s reaction closely as he mentioned Olivia’s name, but he showed no alarm at hearing it; merely sympathy and pleasure.
‘Ah, Mrs Grantley.’ He exhaled an expressive sigh that would not have disgraced one of his most talented actors. ‘A charming lady. Such a shame that she was accused of murdering her husband. Anyone with a lick of sense would realise that such a delicate creature would be incapable of such an iniquitous act. However, it all worked out for the best.’ Barber slapped a hand against his fleshy thigh. ‘Damn it, sir, you are the cove who proved her innocence! I knew your name was associated with more than just the aspirations of hopeful debutantes. Allow me to shake your hand for a second time.’ Jake reluctantly extended his hand, wishing that he had kept his gloves on. Barber grasped it in both of his and gave it an enthusiastic pump. ‘How can I be of service to Mrs Grantley?’
