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Richard was looking forward to inviting Isabel over for many conversations about his travels. Isabel would be an avid listener.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and Richard looked to see his brother’s tall, lean frame enter the room. Thomas Sidney arched an eyebrow at Richard.
“Oh, you’re awake already.”
“I’m now an early riser.”
“Oh, really?” Thomas went to his chair and sat down, signalling at the nearby footman. “Get a plate for me, Sanders. And make sure you put a bit of everything on. I’m starving.”
Richard exchanged a look with Cohen. They were gentry, lucky enough to have servants, but both brothers had been raised to acknowledge the household staff was a privilege that could easily disappear if something happened to their stocks and their father’s shipping business in Torquay. Richard had learned a long time ago how to be self-sufficient and ask for very little from the servants. He had learned that even more while travelling with just Cohen as his companion. From the look of it, Thomas seemed to be taking advantage. He was acting like a member of the nobility.
They were never going to get there, even if there was some sort of miracle. Richard understood that. Thomas’ attitude about furthering themselves didn’t seem to have come back down to earth.
“I heard you on the way down,” Thomas said as his breakfast was placed in front of him. “You were talking about another expedition. When you’ve just got back?”
“Of course.” Richard put scrambled egg onto the piece of sausage he had cut and munched on it. “We’re not going to be sitting still for long. We really need to think forward to the next one.”
“And who’s going to fund that?”
“What’s that got to do with you?”
Thomas frowned.
“Father put forward a lot of money towards your last tour, and he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to make that money back. He’s only just done that, so don’t expect him to fund anything else.”
Cohen chuckled, tucking into his sausages.
“You don’t need to fret yourself over that, Mr Thomas. We didn’t ask your father for help this time, and we won’t be asking again. If he wants to put money towards our next expedition, that’s up to him.”
Thomas didn’t look happy with that response. He sniffed and beckoned Sanders back over.
“Coffee, Sanders. Strong.” He shook his head as he looked over at Richard. “Honestly, Richard, why do you have to go through this? Why don’t you just get yourself a job and work closer to home? You can’t go gallivanting around all your life.”
“I’m not gallivanting. I’m recording.”
“And taking people’s money.”
Richard sighed. Thomas had never understood. He did his studies, and then he was more interested in his sports. He loved to ride horses, go to the races, and he was involved in many other activities that meant using some sporting prowess. Each to their own, and Richard didn’t begrudge him that. But he was annoyed that Thomas tried to put him down all the time. It was annoying.
His father supported him, so why couldn’t Thomas.
“Why don’t you go into the army?” Thomas asked
“The army?”
“Yes. They go abroad, and you can travel all over the place. And you don’t need to go begging for money to do it.”
Richard frowned.
“One, we don’t go begging for money. Two, the war is over, so there are no British troops in Europe anymore. And three, I’m possibly the worst choice as a soldier. I don’t do violence.”
“Neither do half the men who go into the army and navy, but they still go.” Thomas speared a piece of mushroom with his fork. “It’s just a thought to consider. Perhaps you could join the army going to America. Or even Australia.”
“There are no wars being fought in America or Australia,” Cohen pointed out. “The war with America was over years ago.”
Thomas shrugged.
“It’s just a thought. It would stop Father spending money where he doesn’t need to.”
“You mean he needs to have the money to spend on your sporting events,” Richard said slyly. “That’s more important, isn’t it?”
Thomas’ cheeks reddened. He huffed and started attacking his breakfast with a ferocity that made Richard wonder if the plate was going to break. He exchanged a wry look with Cohen, who shook his head with a smile and went back to his newspaper.
