I'd Hate To See You Frown [1/6]

[oanja]

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~*~

My dearest son,   I hope this letter finds you in good health and that the same can be said about your mother and the twins. Here in New York we have already had some snow. It is a great inconvenience in many ways, but I must admit that for the few moments during the early morning it does make the whole town seem much improved. Fresh snow hides many sins under itself after all, - well, until it is trampled into a dirty grey mush.   Enough about the weather. In your last missive you told me about the new coal merchant you employed for the house in London. I find myself agreeing with you that your decision was very prudent and that it would have been foolish indeed to consult me first. It is a great comfort for me to know that the family affairs are in such capable hands when I am not there to see to them myself.   If the parcel I sent for your mother has not preceded this letter, let her know that I sent the fur coats and trimmings in the beginning of November. I was able to procure all the things she specifically asked for but I also added some nice rabbit pelts, for I feel she and the seamstress will surely find some use for them as well. Here rabbit fur hats are very fashionable but one never knows if the same applies in Europe anymore.   I told you about my interest in one of the smaller railroad companies that are building new tracks toward the West. I must confess that the negotiations have proceeded faster than I expected. Mister Urie has proven himself to be quite the canny man, not willing to part from his fortune easily. However, he is not a very wealthy man either and needs funds quite desperately if he wishes to keep up with his competitors. We have come to an agreement where he will sell thirty percent of all the stock on his railroad company and use this money to invest in the expansion towards California. I feel this will be a very wise investment indeed, for there is hardly any other transport option across this country from East to West, unless this talk I hear about zeppelins is true. Have you heard anything of them in London? If you find any suitable looking enterprises in the field pray tell me about it in your next letter. I find the subject of these flying machines quite exciting.   Just last year we saw that hot air balloon they were flying just outside of London, but that contraption did not have any capacity for hauling cargo and if my memory serves me well. I think the chap said you could not even steer it. Helpless to drift wherever the wind took you. Quite foolish, in my opinion. Whereas the zeppelin has a steam engine and you can steer it very similarly as a ship - Of course, I am merely repeating hearsay, so it might just be a flight of fancy.   Please forgive me for letting myself be carried away from the original topic. As I was telling you about the agreement I came to with Mister Urie. He was not very keen on the idea of letting someone else have a say in his company, especially a foreigner and a man whom he had known for such a short while, so we added a clause into the bargain. I agreed that you would marry one of his children and in turn I would give the stocks to you. This way the stocks stay in the family, so to speak, and we will all be working for our common interests.   It goes without saying that you will not be joining the Urie family but one of them will join us. On this I was very firm, for I would never agree to the alternative. I also informed mister Urie that you are not interested in the ladies, which is a pity for he has two very handsome daughters indeed. Fortunately for us he also has one son who is yet to be married and whose inclinations run the same way as yours. His name is Brendon and he is about the same age as you. It seems that Brendon has been a favourite of his mother and has stayed with her and his sisters in town while all his bothers are already gainfully employed and married off. Do not fret, though, about his character, for he seemed a most agreeable young man when I met him Tuesday last. I took tea with mister Urie’s family and found them very amiable, if rather conservative. It seems that mister Urie’s brothers are all men of the Church and so are two of his older sons. The household was very Christian indeed and I found myself thinking that it was most fortunate that your friend mister Ross was not with me, for I am sure he would have scoffed at their piety.   We agreed on the engagement in that sitting and I exchanged a few words with your betrothed. He seemed rather shy while we conversed, but acted in a very lively fashion with his sisters, so I think he was just wary of me and not of shy disposition in general. I did not have long to observe him but I hope you will not be displeased. I know you have made your position on love clear to the whole family, so I do not feel like I am doing you a disservice by making this match for you. And we did talk about the possibility of your marriage before I left London. I am sure your mother and sisters will think us both completely heartless and that reproach we must suffer in silence, for we both know this will bring continued good fortune for our family.   Concerning the issue of an heir, mister Urie agreed with me that one of your sisters’ children will inherit the Smith fortunes, as is proper. However, we also agreed that you could adopt one of Brendon’s siblings’ children if all parties so agreed. After all, the schools are far better in Britain and a child would get every opportunity to be introduced to society if raised by you. In addition we agreed on a twenty thousand pound dowry for this child, if there ever should be one. I am sure you agree with me that these things are best agreed upon in advance so no surprises arise later.   Do re-assure your poor father that your sisters are still mooning over young officers? It would be a horrible setback if you all happened to be homosexual, you must agree. Just thinking of the family business going to my sister’s foolish son Rupert. It does not bear thinking about.   You will have plenty of time to think about procuring a house before I shall return home with your fiancé. I can give a rough estimate that we might be in London in May, but do not tell your mother yet. She will start planning the wedding and will be horribly cross if we are delayed and she gets a summer wedding instead the planned spring one. Perhaps you should look into estates in Dover or Bath? I know you have always enjoyed the sea air. Or perhaps just a house in London? That would be very convenient for the business, but you must agree that the city grows unbearable sometimes.   Keep me updated in all developments and do not let your friend Mister Ross talk you into buying anything inappropriate just because he finds it quaint, poetic or some such nonsense. How is dear mister Ross, now that I remember to inquire? Has he composed any new sonnets to woo the socialites? I do fear he takes too great a pleasure in stringing the poor young men and women along, no matter how amusing the two of you find it. As always, your father

~*~

Spencer had always enjoyed his father’s letters, for they were usually both informative and amusing. This newest message had not been an abbreviation from the norm, but it did give him pause this time. A man didn’t find out he was engaged every day, after all. The whole business left Spencer feeling rather bemused, though - he was not sure he liked the idea of not having a say about whom he should marry. Not that he had entertained any notions of falling in love and marrying for that reason, but at least it would have been nice to know what his fiancé looked like. An important detail his father had forgotten to mention. Taken together with the fact that his father had complimented the sisters it did make Spencer think that this Brendon must look homely at best.


“What did your father write that makes you sigh so deeply?” Ryan asked from the opposite side of the table, looking over the edge of a copy of the Times he had been perusing.


Spencer handed the letter over to his friend and finished his tea and the last piece of a scone while Ryan read the letter.


“Oh, well isn’t this just the finest joke ever played on you?” Ryan mused and handed the letter back. “One must wonder what kind of a man this Brendon is, the letter makes it sound like he has no occupation, does not mention his looks and only says he seems agreeable. Not very high praise, you must admit. It seems your father has sold your hand in matrimony for thirty percent of a company.” Ryan seemed rather gleeful about this, not that anyone but his closest acquaintances would have recognized the subtle expression.


“Do be quiet, Ryan. It is a good match and we gain much from it. It is not easy to break into the American market these days, one must hone one’s connections whenever possible.” Spencer found himself siding with his father even though his own thoughts had been much closer to Ryan’s own.


Ryan seemed to know what Spencer was thinking and smirked. “Always the dutiful son. Well, at least we may entertain ourselves with finding the perfect house for you and your soon-to-be spouse. I shall even try to reign myself in so as not to lead you astray, as your father so carefully warns you.”


“I think a house in the country would serve me well. I may stay at my father’s townhouse while I am in London, while Mister Urie may stay in the countryside. This way we will not trespass on each others lives overly much and may live quite cordially together.” Spencer said, and got up from his seat.


Ryan joined him as they walked to the entrance hall of the club. “I must go to the office, but do join us for dinner later. My mother keeps asking about you.” Spencer said and took the offered cape, hat and gloves from the servant. “And don’t gamble all your money away while I am not here to chastise you.” He warned Ryan, who completely ignored him and took to the stairs, most likely heading for the library.


“Good day to you, Mister Smith.” The servant wished Spencer, and Spencer nodded back politely before walking out into the drizzle. Luckily Spencer’s father had chosen this club with care, taking into consideration its location relative to their office, so Spencer didn’t need to walk far -only about five minutes, and that wasn’t enough time for the slow rain to penetrate his good woollen cape. Inside the office he greeted Miss Langham, a young and rather handsome woman, whom Spencer had hired after an interview where she had impressed him with her determination to earn her own money and make her own way in the world.


So far he hadn’t been disappointed, for she had quite the head for numbers and had already been a great help when Spencer had last gone through the shipping manifestos. “Good afternoon, Miss. Did you take time for luncheon at all today?” He asked, for she was still sitting among the same piles of paper, as she had been when Spencer had left for the club more than an hour ago.


“I brought sandwiches. It looked like rain this morning and I didn’t fancy a walk in the mud, just so I could eat sandwiches in an overpriced coffee house.” She said and scrunched up her nose disapprovingly.


“Quite so. They still haven’t opened that club for ladies, then? I read in the paper that there have been some setbacks?” He asked politely, as the topic was of some interest to him. The idea of having clubs for ladies who worked in the city was still brand new and some people looked down on it very disdainfully. – Mostly by the same people who didn’t like the idea of women working at all, although that had been very common ever since the Napoleonic wars.


Miss Langham nodded and tucked her pencil into her hair like it was a hatpin. “It is very vexing indeed, I was so looking forward to the grand opening. It was supposed to be at the end of the month.” She added and shook her head before continuing. “I think the problem is with the company used for installing the gas lights. There has been some trouble because it is an old building, but they have assured those of us who have already paid membership fees that it should be opened in February at the latest.”


“That is very good news. I know how much you have been looking forward to it.” Spencer offered and then remembered to ask. “Have there been any telegraphs or letters?”


“No, nobody has been here since you left. However, Mister Smith, I am not your secretary. I am an accountant, and you really should hire someone else to keep up with your social and business engagements.” She said reprovingly.


Spencer just smiled. “Yes, yes, but there always seem to be so many other things that are more pressing. Perhaps I should leave the matter into your capable hands, Miss Langham?” he said over his shoulder and started retreating towards his own office. It was not wise to let Miss Langham start one of her tirades on the subject if he wanted to get any work done that afternoon.


“I shall put an advertisement in the paper then. And you should treat me very finely indeed if you do not want me to hire someone very silly and ill suited for the occupation.” She said teasingly. Or at least, Spencer hoped she was only teasing.


“Very good, Miss Langham.” He said vaguely and then closed the door behind him. Spencer really didn’t know how to act around Miss Langham when she started her teasing. If she had not been engaged to another lady Spencer would have thought her remarks to be flirtatious. Now he suspected that she knew how unsure she was making Spencer and continued her ministrations just for that reason.


“Bloody woman.” He huffed to himself and sat down in his chair and took out some stationary. He might as well reply to his father’s letter. There was no reason to put it off unduly.

Father, With regards to your inquiry, we are all in good health. I went to Sumerlin just last weekend and listened to the twins moan about how bored they are. I do not know how that can be, though, for they had friends calling on then almost every day and the days when they were not called upon they were themselves out visiting. And yes, they still appear to harbour some fondness for the opposite sex so you can rest assured in that regard. Mother has her hands full with them, I am sure, although she will not say so to me. She busies herself with arranging dinners and making plans for the garden. She says you have promised to have a new greenhouse built. The plans look very handsome indeed, but I am sure she has sent you copies already. Mother says it will be possible to have fresh vegetables on the table throughout the winter. She is still enamoured with South American vegetables - tomatoes, peppers and such - but now she is talking about having fruit-bearing trees planted there as well. I do not know if that is feasible but she seems certain and I do bow down to her experience in this matter. I have heard some news about new Zeppelin designs. The pioneers in the field seem to reside in Germany but some fellows in Portsmouth (of all places) are building a similar machine, or so I hear. Perhaps we can visit during the summer when you have returned from the Americas. I share your optimism in its capabilities, especially if a powerful steam engine can be applied to power it. Then it would rival even the train, for it would not need tracks to be laid out for it and could therefore, at least in theory, fly anywhere. Trains can transport more cargo and people than any Zeppelin I would imagine, but I believe Zeppelins would be faster. I shall look into the matter more thoroughly and write more about it later when I have actual facts. I was pleased to hear you managed to secure our interest in the Urie railroad company so speedily. This will surely make a fortune for us, as the papers are full of stories about people moving to the Americas in hopes of finding better lives for themselves. They say millions will move by the end of the century. Millions! How famous. Hard to even imagine, but they will need transportation to the West and after the people have moved they will need many material things transported to them. The engagement took me by surprise, I must admit, but I am not against it either. As you said, this is a good match for me and I trust your judgement in this matter. I made the mistake of showing your letter to Ryan and he, of course, made fun of me rather mercilessly, but that was to be expected. He is well, thank you for inquiring. He still refuses to come work with us though, and seems determined to spend all his inheritance on new garments and gambling but perhaps he will calm down in time. We both know how hard the last year has been for him, after all. I am determined to take him to Sumerlin the next time I go home, for mother asks and worries about him. P.S. I forgot to mention the furs. They did indeed precede your letter, which is a wonder, and the twins were beside themselves with delight. The coats are a tad too thick to wear here, for we have not had very cold weather, but that does not stop the girls from wearing them whenever they can. It is amusing to watch how they overheat themselves and arrive at their destinations in much poorer condition than they left. I hope this letter finds you well, Spencer

~*~

Christmas in Sumerlin was always a very merry and boisterous time, and this year was no different. Spencer bid London goodbye on the second week of December and dragged a slightly reluctant Ryan with him. Objectively, Spencer could see why his closest friend was not so eager to return to their hometown, but still, Ryan should have known better than to think Spencer would let him spend the holidays alone in London. So instead they took the carriage to Loughton and from there to the Smith family estate of Summerlin.


Ryan had stiffened in his seat when they passed through town but relaxed again as they travelled through the countryside and to the estate. Morris had obviously known they were coming and met the carriage outside the main door. Spencer and Ryan stepped down and Spencer was just saying hello to the man when the door opened and the twins came bustling through, enveloping the newcomers in enthusiastic hugs.


“Girls, that is not proper! Can you not exercise some restraint for once in your life?” Mrs Smith said from the door where she was waiting with the maid. “Come inside before all the heat gets out.” She added, but was smiling widely at them all.


The girls took Spencer and Ryan’s arms and walked four abreast to the door where they had to disentangle so they could fit through.


“Finally, you are here, Ryan. We have been dying for your company ever since we had to come back from London. How could you be so cruel as not to visit us even once?” Peggy demanded to know, pouting very excessively.


“Yes, and you only wrote four letters. Four, for shame! And addressed to both of us, could you not trouble yourself with writing us individual letters.” Josie chimed into the argument.


Ryan kept his face expressionless but Spencer could tell he was pleased to see the girls again. Spencer left his friend to defend himself against the twins’ accusations and went to say hello to his mother. “It is good to see nothing has changed since I was here last.” He said, smiling, and leaned down to kiss his mother on the cheek.


“They grow more impossible by the day. It will surely be a relief to see them off to University in the autumn.” Vivian Smith insisted but ruined the effect by laughing immediately afterwards. “Come join me in the parlour and I will send for tea. The girls will bring Ryan in with them sooner or later.”


Spencer offered his arm to his mother and they walked to the smaller sitting room where she insisted he sit next to her. “It has been too long. I miss my boys and now that you are here you will just have to oblige your mother.” She said and took his hand into hers. Spencer didn’t have time to reply to this before Bennet came in with a tea tray. “It’s good to have the young sirs back in Summerlin.” She said to Vivian and curtsied.


“It certainly is.” Mrs Smith said, and added. “I will pour for myself. Thank you, Bennet.” After the housekeeper had cleared the room Vivian smiled brightly at Spencer and offered him a cup of tea. “Your father wrote to me about the engagement, were you never going to mention it to me yourself? Just walk in here next year with a new spouse in tow?”


Spencer took the offered cup and tried not to look ruffled by her mother’s words. He had hoped she would not spring on this topic quite so soon. “I knew he would have told you, so I saw no need to mention it again. Especially because I knew you would not let the matter rest until you had pestered me about it in person.”


She let out a short giggle and sipped her tea, her eyes laughing at Spencer even after the sound had died. “Oh, dear boy. It is quite insufferable how your heart resists even the slightest hint of romance. It is quite well that your father did make this match for you or you would have died a bachelor. He wrote very well of him, this Brendon. I wrote back to him and told your father to have his picture sent. It is just like him not to even mention how he looks. For such a practical man, he can overlook the most obvious things sometimes.”


Spencer bit his lip and thought that he should have thought to suggest that himself. At least now he would get to see his fiancé before they met in person. “Perhaps I should have my picture taken as well and sent, seems only polite.” He commented to his mothers delight.


“Yes, a famous idea, although it means I will have to have your sisters photographed as well or they will fuss terribly. Arrange to have it done while you are here, won’t you? Best not to put it off.” She mused, and finished her cup of tea just as the door opened and Ryan and the twins poured in.


“Tea! Fabulous, I am parched.” Josie exclaimed and abandoned Ryan’s arm for refreshments. Peggy was carrying her small dog but let her go so she could take the offered teacup from Vivian. Ryan took his tea and secured himself a place in a chair so he didn’t have to share with the twins. Spencer hid a smile behind his own cup and then asked. “How are you progressing on the pianoforte, Margaret? And how is your French, Rebecca?” It was his duty to annoy his little sisters after all.


As expected the twins protested loudly both to the use of their proper names and to his ‘cruel and insensitive questions’. Then Peggy insisted on only speaking French for the rest of the teatime and Josie said she would play something after dinner and show him how much better she was on the pianoforte than he ever had been.


“That is not a very accomplished boast, for your brother has always been hopeless on the piano.” Ryan commented and smirked at Spencer when he shot his friend a wounded look.


Vivian patted Spencer’s leg. “It is true, Spencer, I must agree with Ryan on this. Your piano teacher always despaired over you.”


“And you wonder why I do not visit more often.” Spencer protested with good humour. The rest of the day passed in similar manner, as they were all reluctant to part company and instead spend the time bantering and later after dinner playing cards while Josie and Ryan took turns on the pianoforte.

~*~

A week later when Spencer was sitting at the breakfast table and frowning at the news on the Stock exchange when Bennet came in with a letter. “Morris just came back from Loughton, Mister Smith, he went to get some butter and sugar as we seem to need more every day as the young mistresses can’t seem to wait until Christmas to eat the pastries. But luckily he went by the post office and young Marcus must have seen him through the window and came out with our mail. Very kind of him, don’t you think Mister Smith? And here it is, a letter from your father.” She handed it over to Spencer and took his empty plate with her when she left.


Bennet had been with the family as long as Spencer could remember so she had some liberties when it came to social protocol and in this case Spencer approved for he had not known that Josie and Peggy had been sneaking pastries away from the kitchen. He would mention it to Mother when she came to join him for breakfast.


Looking at the letter Spencer noticed that it had been taken to the townhouse first and then diverted here. That would have added a day or two to the mailing time. Not that it mattered terribly, for Spencer doubted his father had any urgent news to convey. He opened the letter, which was curiously thick, and began to read.

To Spencer I think that when this letter reaches you it will be almost time for Christmas, so I will begin by wishing you all a Merry Christmas. As you might have noticed from the thickness of this missive I have enclosed all my letters into one to save postage - give the other letters to your sisters and you mother for me. I was amused by your last letter, where you managed to only write a few sentences about your future marriage, very clever, but you can’t think that would satisfy your mother or me? I am sure your mother has told you about her wish to have a picture of your fiancé? I passed this request along to the Urie family and offered to pay for the photograph to be taken but they would not agree to it. Mrs. Urie doesn’t like photography, she says it is so impersonal and mechanic and Mister Urie did not protest. So with great haste they had a small pocket sized portrait done of young mister Urie. I fear it will not reach you by Christmas, to the disappointment of the Uries, who seemed very determined to comply with your request. I know it was your mother’s idea, but to be honest, Young Brendon has been asking me about you and seems very uncertain about your regard, which is only natural of course but still it is hard for me to watch. So forgive me for this slight deceit, you should have seen his face when he heard of the request. He blushed very handsomely and has seemed to be in better spirits after the fact. There is a letter to you from him in the pile and I implore you to write back to him with great civility. I have been spending more time in the Urie home for they have asked me to join them for the Holidays and I have observed your fiancé more closely and feel confident in saying I know his character much better now. He is a very kind-hearted and energetic person but he does not have many friends outside his family. He has had a very sheltered life, for the Uries don’t believe in frivolities like balls and parties - they are very conservative indeed. This has not made Brendon into a dull young man I assure you for I know Ryan will try to instate, quite the contrary; he is very humorous and witty when he feels comfortable with a person. Now I feel a bit embarrassed for lauding his praise to you, but I have grown attached to Brendon and care for his happiness. Do not read this and think I do not care for yours, though, I just know how you can be with people whose society you do not think worth your time. Do not begin your relationship with your future spouse like that. That is all I ask. Your ever-loving father

~*~

Spencer put his father’s letter down and looked through the other sealed papers that he’d thought would only include letters for the other members of the family. Quickly he found the letter addressed to him in unfamiliar penmanship and opened it with slight trepidation.


He knew not what to expect, and his father’s words still stung. Yes, he could be abrupt in his manner and was not always quick to warm up to new company, but that did not mean he would have treated his fiancé so. But it would not help to worry about making a favourable first impression in a letter anyway before he had read what Mister Urie had written to him. So he began to read:

Dear Mister Smith I was unsure about writing to you, for we have not been properly introduced, and does that not seem strange? However, your father assures me that it is quite all right to do so and so here I am writing to you. From what your father has told me I have gathered that you are a very busy man, so I do not presume you will have much time for correspondence but I would be ever so grateful to hear from you. You appear very amiable in your father’s stories and I find myself curious to hear more. My sister tells me that I am pestering your father too much already with my questions so perhaps you would be so kind and tell me little about yourself? Perhaps you are similarly curious of me and I have been trying to think of something interesting to write to you but find myself at a loss. So I shall just tell you about the thing I like the most. I love music very dearly and when I was a boy I sang in the church choir, which was very pleasant and the performance on Sunday was always the highlight of my week. I play the piano, cello and the violin, although on the latter I am not very proficient. I am also very fond of animals and I have a small terrier called Stuart. It has been a great relief to hear it will be possible for me to bring him with me. Perhaps you will think me silly and sentimental but he has been the most loyal friend to me and I would have been saddened to leave him behind. Your father tells me that you have many big hounds in Summerlin but that they are friendly and will not do my Stuart any harm. Your father did not mention if you hunt with the dogs? I have heard it is very popular occupation in the countryside. Please wish all your family Merry Christmas for me. I hope you are well, Brendon Urie

Just as he finished reading, the door to the breakfast room opened and his sisters walked in, not paying Spencer any mind, so engrossed they were in their discussion. Only after they had sat down and noticed the letters in front of Spencer was their attention diverted. “Oh! Are those from Papa?” Josie asked and tried to crane her neck to see across the table.


“Yes, he wrote something for the both of you.” Spencer answered, and handed the proper letters over to the excited girls. Reading their letters took the girls’ attention so that Spencer had time to hide Brendon’s letter in his pocket. He was not ready to be teased on the subject. Not until he had had time to accustom himself to the situation.

~*~

After breakfast Spencer hid in the library, knowing he’d be left alone because the twins had gone to town with their mother, and Ryan never got out of bed before noon if he could help it. He had the estates ledger open in front of him but had not been able to pay it the necessary attention. Finally he gave up the pretence and took out the letter again, reading it through and then taking out some stationary, willing himself to commit something on paper in response. He was still sitting there staring at the empty sheet when the door opened and a rumpled looking Ryan walked in. “Where is everyone?” he asked and went to sit by the fireplace, not bothering to stifle a yawn.


“Gone to town. There is the annual Christmas ball at Havensham, I am sure even you have not forgotten. After all, we have both been in attendance since I turned sixteen.” Spencer reminded Ryan and put down the pen he’d been holding. “And when there is a ball, there is a need for new clothes. I believe they have the last fitting today with the seamstress.”


“Oh, that. Well my old clothes will just have to do.” Ryan said dismissively, both of them knowing that Ryan’s clothes were all the finest city fashions and would most certainly do for Loughton’s society.


Spencer smiled a bit and went to join his friend, stepping over Fio, the old hound who had stretched himself out in front of the fire. “I said as much to mother when she asked if we needed anything.” He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to tell Ryan about his letter but finding himself curiously reluctant to confide in his oldest friend in the matter.


Instead he decided it was as good time as any to bring up something rather unpleasant. “Ryan, you know you should go visit Rosslings. My father hired the best steward he could find, in your behalf, but that does not mean the estate should be left unmanaged by you.”


Ryan looked wholly unimpressed by this idea and tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair, which was a clear sign that he was agitated, for Ryan did not fidget under normal circumstances. “When do you suppose we should go?” was the only thing Ryan said, and it made Spencer sigh in relief.


“There is no great hurry, we can wait until after the holidays if you wish, as long as we visit before I must return to London.” Spencer answered carefully. Now that Ryan had agreed to go there was no sense in pushing him further, once given Ryan always kept his word even if it had not been explicit.


Again, Ryan displayed his discomfort openly, for him at least, by getting up and going to stand by the fire, poking the logs with the poker and answered without turning to face Spencer. “There is no reason it should be put off if it must be done. We could ride there today, could we not?”


Spencer looked at the clock on the mantle and answered. “Yes, I suppose we might at that. The day is young enough, and in any case a surprise visit will surely reveal the truth on how the estate is managed.”


“In that case I will go and change.” Ryan said stiffly and left the room. Spencer sighed and resigned himself to expect his friend to treat him in a very cold manner for a while, for Ryan could hold grudges for a long time, even if there really had been no slight done anywhere else than in Ryan’s mind. Spencer let Morris know they would need the horses and went to change as well.

~*~

The ride to Rosslings was not very long, and the road was infinitely familiar to both of them, so many times had they travelled between their two homes over the years. The air was crisp and the horses’ breath billowed out in white clouds as they trotted along. Ryan was setting a quick pace and Spencer was not sure if it was to avoid conversation or if Ryan just wanted to reach their destination faster to get the ordeal over with as speedily as possible. Whatever the reason, they soon crested the last hill and could view Rosslings for the first time. The main house was a handsome construct, although any viewer could see that it was in some disrepair. Ryan’s father had almost let the whole estate go to ruin while he had been alive and Ryan had since only paid for the most urgent of repairs.


It had been a great relief that Ryan’s mother had left all her fortunes directly to Ryan before her death, for if the money had gone to Ryan’s father all that money would surely have been gambled away or been spent on spirits and Ryan would have been left with nothing. Instead, George Ross had passed away right before Ryan’s twenty-first birthday, the birthday when he got the right to his mother’s fortune. The money had been desperately needed, it soon became clear, for George Ross had ran up a long list of debts that Ryan needed to honour. In the end, Ryan had been left with two thousand pounds a year, which allowed for a very comfortable living but did not really leave much for the maintenance of Rosslings, even if Ryan had been so inclined.


They arrived at the main entrance and had to wait for a moment before anyone came out to meet them. Spencer dismounted with Ryan and looked around. The grounds looked fine, hedges and trees neatly trimmed - all good signs in his book. His inspection was interrupted when Moore, the steward, came around the house in a near run, he had obviously been alerted to their arrival. “Good afternoon Mister Ross, Mister Smith. I apologise for not being here sooner.” He man said and was soon followed by a stable hand who took the reigns from them and lead the horses away.


When it became apparent that Ryan was not going to speak Spencer stepped up and shook the man’s hand and smiled reassuringly. “Good afternoon indeed, Moore. I hope it is not a great inconvenience for you to show us how things are going here at Rosslings. We just arrived from London yesterday and came to see the house as soon as we were able.” A lie, but necessary to keep things simple.


“Of course, sir. Please follow me to the study and I will show you the books first.” Moore said, and they all walked inside, even if Ryan was trailing behind, still mute.


The house looked clean and nothing was missing, Spencer noted on the way to the study, and congratulated his father in his mind on his selection of Moore. This favourable opinion was not shaken when Spencer was shown the ledgers of the house and saw that all expenses were accounted for and within the budget Spencer had allocated in the beginning of the year.


“You have done splendidly here, Moore, a commendable feat indeed.” Spencer praised the man and tried not to notice how Moore looked first at Ryan and then at Spencer. He could only imagine what the man thought of the situation where the master of the house had yet to open his mouth and a practical stranger to him was handling the inspection. “Do you have any concerns to raise now that we are here in person?” he prompted, and closed the ledger.


Moore turned his attention back to Spencer and shook his head. “No sir, I wrote to Mister Ross about the windows in the second floor and the money was enough to have all the leaking ones replaced. As you saw in the accounts.” In reality it had been Spencer who had read the letter and paid for the windows, but he did not see fit to mention this to the man. It would be better if Moore thought he had at least some contact with the actual owner of the house. So Spencer just nodded and went to get Ryan, who had drifted to the window and had been staring morosely at the back garden. “Come now, Ryan.” He said, and steered his friend to the door where Moore was waiting and pointedly not staring at them. Spencer smiled politely at the man and hid a sigh.


“Perhaps we could inspect the house next.” Spencer said, not quite asking but not really giving an order either. Moore nodded and led the way along the corridor, showing them the closed off parlours and sitting rooms downstairs and the kitchens, which was the only place full of life in the house and where the maids curtsied hurriedly and stared openly at Ryan, who they had not seen in more than a year. Not since the funeral. Ryan managed a hello for them but did not say anything more during the whole tour and paid no attention to Moore’s comments on the repair of the house.


When they returned to the entrance hall Spencer again complimented Moore on the good job he had done on managing the affairs of the estate and reminded him that he could write at any time if something unexpected caught his attention. Moore nodded and thanked them for coming, still looking slightly unsure about whom to address and Spencer prodded Ryan unobtrusively so that he managed to say his goodbyes at least, shook Moore’s hand and managed to appear like he had half a brain.


“We will take a turn in the garden while the horses are readied.” Spencer assured Moore when the man expressed worry about leaving them and let the man get back to his work. He took Ryan’s arm and the two of them walked outside into the weak winter sunlight, going around the house and into the winter brown gardens. Here finally Ryan came back to life and let out a great long breath. “I hate this place, why do you keep saying I need to keep it?”


“It is your ancestral home,” Spencer said patiently.


“Well, I hate my ancestry as much as I hate this place. I have the house in London and I am never here. It is but an expense I could do without,” Ryan asserted and adjusted his hat, another nervous gesture.


Spencer could see why Ryan felt that way, but still said. “What about when you marry? You might change your mind when you have children, want to leave something to them.”


“That is one good reason never to marry. I would make a terrible father.” Ryan said, and grimaced. Spencer had tried to assure Ryan on this subject a number of times but had yet to make an impression. Ryan seemed to think that he was doomed to make the same mistakes as his own father had done.


“Some fine lady or a gentleman will surely convince you otherwise, you will see,” Spencer said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood now that it seemed Ryan was willing to talk to him again.


Ryan managed a sardonic smile in response. “Love is not all about increasing the family fortune or procuring heirs as you seem to think, my friend. It is a fiery passion that will sweep away all rational thought and burn in the centre of your being, making it impossible to do anything but to surrender to its mercy. It is not about some lady convincing me to make babies and live in this horrid place just so I can leave it to them when I die.”


“I do not know if you are serious or not, but I hope for the latter. Otherwise you might make a very unsuitable match for yourself, all this talk about passion and not thinking rationally. You need to marry a woman or a man with at least three thousand pounds to his or her name. You need at least that much to repair Rosslings,” Spencer reminded Ryan and then quieted as they had come around to the stables where their horses were waiting with a groom.


“There is more to life than money,” Ryan just said and climbed onto his horse without looking back at the main building looming behind him. Spencer thanked the groom and took his own reigns, following Ryan’s example, and soon they were on their way back to Summerlin.


Spencer wanted to remind Ryan that money was much more reliable than people and that Ryan of all people should know that but kept his peace. It was a miracle that Ryan still had these notions of finding romantic love when he otherwise had such a hard time trusting people, and Spencer did not want to dissuade him just because he personally did not see the matter so. Perhaps he was so set on the idea of marrying for love because his mother had been so very unhappy in her arranged marriage with his father. Whatever the case, Spencer felt it was best to let the matter rest.

~*~

When they returned home, the women had returned from Loughton and were sitting in the study, for it had the biggest fireplace. Peggy and Josie were playing cards and Vivian was reading something when Spencer and Ryan joined them after getting rid of their coats. “Come join us so we can play bridge!” Josie enthused, and Ryan went to join them happily enough, for he, unlike Spencer, liked the game. However, Spencer knew it would be futile to resist and went to join them at the table.


Peggy reshuffled the cards and started dealing while Josie said. “Oh, I almost forgot. We heard the most interesting thing when we met Mister Norton on our way back. He says that the Bryars have received their son back from the colonies. And a Captain, no less! Mama, where did he say Captain Bryar had been?” She turned to look at Vivian who had not been paying any attention to them, so Josie had to repeat her question.


“He was in India, mister Norton did not say anything more particular. It seems he only arrived back a day earlier than you. I do not think you remember him - Robert Bryar? He joined the regiment when you were only twelve, after all,” Vivian said, and looked at Spencer questioningly.


“No, I cannot say that I remember. I have met his older brother and his wife, of course. What do you propose he will be doing now that he has retired from the service?” Spencer asked, just to keep the conversation going.


Josie answered before Vivian could. “Well, he will obviously wish to marry well, a second son like him, what else is there, if he does not stay in the military.”


“That is not very polite thing to say,” Vivian chastised her daughter but continued. “In this case, however, I do agree with you. Even if his father left him with some money and he has not spent it all while in service, I cannot see how else he would wish to establish himself back into the community. However, I do not think it will be very hard for him. He is not yet thirty, and if I remember correctly he was a handsome man, fair haired and fair skinned, quite striking.”


Peggy giggled and poked her sister. “If he was younger you would be begging him to marry you! You are always sighing after the fair ones.”


“Oh, be quiet,” Josie said, blushing, and changed the subject to the upcoming ball. Spencer kept an eye on Ryan, but the other man seemed to have recovered from the visit to Rosslings and appeared happy enough for the rest of the evening.

~*~

Dear Mister Urie, I was glad to receive your letter, so I must agree with my father and say it was perfectly fine for you to write to me. As to whether I have time for correspondence, I will make time for you. I feel it is important for us to nurture an amiable relationship from the beginning, so feel free to ask me whatever you wish and I will do my best to answer your questions. Thank you for telling me about your interests. I am very fond of music as well, although I cannot sing and never found an instrument I liked well enough to dedicate the time into mastering it. My sisters and my friend just recently teased me about my dreadful performance on the pianoforte. Still, I will assert that you will surely find a willing audience in me for any and all performances and concerts you might be willing to play. Stuart seems like a very fine name for a terrier and I am sure it will be a pleasure to meet this friend of yours. Let me add my own assurances to my father’s and say our dogs at Summerlin are very sociable indeed and will welcome your Stuart into their midst happily. I do hunt from time to time but mostly it is the groundskeeper that keeps us in game meat. When it comes to that particular sport I find myself partial to the foxhunt, for it is more exciting in general. Thank you for your good wishes, and thank you for your family’s hospitality to my father. I know he would have been lonely if he had spent the time alone so far away from home. In return I wish you had a very auspicious beginning to the New Year. With my best regards, Spencer Smith

~*~

Masterpost | one | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Comments

[northern]

I have to say, so far this is delightful! I especially love the way that nothing in the story's vocabulary sticks out - too often I'll read "that guy" in something supposed to take place a hundred years ago and be instantly thrown out of the story.

[oanja.livejournal.com]

I tried my best to avoid using modern phrases and sometimes it was pretty tricky... ^_^; I'm sure I didn't succeed perfectly, but I'm glad you thought the language worked for the story and not against it. =)