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“I have recently been advised to invest in some shares of the East India Company,” Lord Turner explained. “Do you know what they import?” Joseph could venture an educated guess, but it seemed that his uncle wished to enlighten them on the matter, so he let him. “Ivory. Did you know that the majority of these pool balls are made of ivory? They would carefully select smaller tusks of female elephants. Each tusk would yield four or five balls, but only the three from the wider end would be a perfect match of both size and quality. You see, there is a nerve that runs through the very center of an elephant tusk. If one wishes to produce a ball with a concentric and balanced grain, this nerve will need to pass through every single ball.”
Joseph wondered about that nerve. Was it still in there? Some poor elephant’s nerve, feeling every single strike of the cue? In all honesty, he did not prefer wooden balls as it was inevitable that they developed flat spots and different sort of abrasions. With ivory balls, one had no such concern.
“Needless to say, ivory is necessary to the modern-day gentleman,” his uncle exclaimed importantly. “So, I’ve made such an investment, and so far, I have not regretted it.” With those words, he placed the ball gently in its exact place then proceeded to strike it with the utmost accuracy, landing it straight home. “You know, I am thinking of calling upon John Thurston in his shop on Newcastle Street to have a consultation regarding our new pool table.”
Joseph wondered if his uncle’s family was truly that well off. Truth be told, Lord Turner was left with many assets and some finances as well although the one thing he didn’t get, the one thing he craved for, was the title of a Duke. Fortunately for him, Joseph was more than happy to oblige.
He could always sense the animosity that existed between his father and his uncle, who in all fairness believed that he should have been the one to inherit the title although that was simply not how things went. Now, with the possibility of inheriting the title from Joseph, his uncle was happy to do whatever it took to obtain it. Whatever his reasoning was, jealousy, pride or something else, Joseph had already decided that his own bloodline would not continue. Instead, it would be his uncle’s blood that would bear the title as one last insult to his own father.
“I did not know we are purchasing a pool table, Father,” Seth commented. Joseph looked in his direction.
“I think it’s high time we had one,” Lord Turner proclaimed decisively. “Every Duke ought to have a pool table in his home. Otherwise…” He chose not to end his statement, but all three men knew exactly what he was referring to. “I do suppose our arrangement still stands?” He eyed Joseph like a hawk, piercing through him with his gaze.
“It is as sound as the flow of the Thames itself,” Joseph assured him. “You know that I have no desire to wed now, nor will I ever have.”
“Your mother seems to think otherwise.” Lord Turner raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but Joseph could understand his concern. After all, it had been at least three years since they had come to this arrangement, even before the death of Joseph’s father, and his uncle merely preferred to have a quick check up whether the arrangement was indeed still valid.
“My mother is like any other mother,” Joseph sighed with a dismissive shrug. “She wishes to see me married because she wishes to have grandchildren to brighten up her olden days.”
“I don’t suppose this wish could rub off unintentionally?” His uncle still would not let it go.
“No,” Joseph replied patiently. “You know how I felt about my father. Even with the man dead and buried, I still can’t forgive any of the things he had done. He was a vile man, a man who does not deserve to have his bloodline prolonged through my veins. Your family is far more worthy to carry on the title.”
“My family and I are eager for such honor to be bestowed upon us.” There was eager hope in the man’s voice. Too eager.
“You know that the title means nothing to me, apart from being chains connecting me to the man I hated more than anyone else in the world.”
His uncle finally smiled, satisfied with the response he had received. Joseph was certain that this would not be the end of their conversation on that topic, but he figured he would cross that bridge when he got to it. For now, the matter was settled in words as well as his heart, for Joseph was adamant that his father’s line would cease to exist once he breathed in his last breath. That was a promise.
“Is it my turn?” Seth wondered, approaching the table. Joseph nodded. He watched his cousin bend over, aim, then strike without any success.
“You need to focus better,” his father scolded him. “Just look how your cousin does it. Look and learn.”
The words lacked any finesse, but that was how his uncle had always been. Joseph walked around the table then stopped when he saw his chance. He seized it, and it was a success.
“A most splendid shot, my boy!” his uncle exclaimed, even clapping twice. Joseph did not find it particularly awe-inspiring. It was merely a lucky shot. Perhaps his uncle feared that Joseph might change his mind and felt the need to stroke his ego a bit. There was absolutely no need for that in Joseph’s opinion.
He would never be marrying. Ever.
Then suddenly, he felt a pinch of sadness. He wondered where it came from. A marriage meant that a man needed to mourn the loss of his old life. He had no need for a change. He liked things the way they were now then he remembered that he had not visited that seedy old club which opened its doors only to special members ever since he met Bridget. Could the two be connected somehow?
Impossible.There was absolutely no reason the two should be connected. He was merely busy and had no time.
Those were the words his mind kept throwing at him, angry that he dared to consider the other option endorsed by his heart. The other option was that he had gotten close to Bridget, despite his unwillingness to do so. The joy that her closeness brought was incomparable to anything else he had ever felt. He felt like there was a war raging on inside of him, a war between his mind and his heart, between his reason and his emotions, and for the time being, his heart was winning this battle.
“Perhaps we could partake in some brandy?” Joseph suggested, hoping that a bit of drink and some pointless chatter might ease his lovesick heart.
“But I was winning,” his uncle frowned.
“You did win, Uncle. Congratulations,” Joseph said, putting down his cue on the table. “I simply do not feel like playing any longer.”
Once the three men obtained three full glasses of their preferred liquor, they found their seats in the corner of the main room, still surrounded by nearby chatter but not close enough to the others in the room to be overheard. Not that Joseph minded being overheard. He had no plans of discussing his secrets in public like this.
“How have you been doing, old chap?” he inquired of Seth as they had started playing pool immediately upon arrival and only now managed to get a few words in. “Any lovely lady who has captured your interest?”
Joseph knew that Seth aimed higher than he ought to, but perhaps that would work out for the best, once his family inherited the dukedom.
“I prefer your manner of doing things,” Seth chuckled, but there was something wicked in that chuckle, something that rubbed Joseph the wrong way. “The rogue way.”
