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“What are your plans for the day, Will?” Stepmother said at breakfast.
“I am going to Lock’s first to see about some hats, and then Hoby’s for some boots. Later, I am meeting Somerwell at White’s.” It was casually said, but his heart swelled with pride as he spoke the words.
“White’s?” Pa said. “That’s one of the fancy clubs, isn’t it?”
“Somerwell?” Stepmother said simultaneously. “One of Rosie’s beaux?”
“The one who has been asking around the clubs to find out who she is. He wants to know something more of her, so I am to meet him at White’s at two o’clock.”
Rosie set down the bread roll she had been eating and gazed at him, her eyes wide.
“Well, that is a good sign,” Stepmother said. “He did not call yesterday, but he left flowers and a handwritten card, which he brought himself, Keeble said. I thought him very personable, but if you can find out any more about him, that would be helpful. Shall you be in for dinner, Will? We are going to the theatre tonight, remember.”
“I do remember, and I hope to join you, but I cannot say what may come of this meeting with Somerwell. If he should invite me to dine with him—“
“Of course, you must accept. Well, if you are free to join us, that will be most agreeable, for another gentleman is always welcome. So you have no plan to see Miss Whittleton today?”
Will felt rather hemmed in by the question. His interest in Miss Whittleton did not rise to the level of courtship, or even possible romantic interest, so he could not quite see what business it was of Stepmother’s. “No plan of that nature.”
“I only wondered because your attentions towards her have been rather marked. Taking her out in your curricle is very pointed distinguishing notice, and then you danced with her before any other at the Iversons.”
“I knew no one else,” he said with a shrug, not liking the inquisition.
“Ah, yes, that would be it. For you must be aware, Will dear, that she has no money and no status, other than being a distant cousin to Lady Marford, and you can certainly do much better than that, whenever you are ready to look for a bride.”
“I know it, Stepmother,” he said easily. “I assure you that when my thoughts turn to matrimony and I compile my list of suitable candidates, Miss Whittleton will not feature on it prominently. Or at all,” he added, half to himself.
“Excellent,” she said, applying herself to her cup of chocolate.
Pa merely lowered his newspaper a fraction, and gazed at Will with a quizzical expression.
~~~~~
Will hoped he looked nonchalant as he ascended the steps to enter White’s that afternoon. He did not feel nonchalant in the least. His life had held few distinctions, but this moment, he felt, would live with him for a long time.
“Sir?” said the door flunky in pleasant tones as Will approached.
“I am here to meet Mr Somerwell,” Will said.
“Mr Fletcher, is it?”
“That is so.”
“Please follow me, sir.”
And miraculously, the doors opened and he was within the hallowed portals.
His first impression was one of disappointment. The club was spacious and well-appointed, naturally, and the decoration elegant, in the light, modern way, but Will had seen a dozen such houses in his search for the right home for Rosie’s season. But then he supposed the distinguished members had no need for vulgar ostentation. All must be quiet restraint, like that arbiter of taste, Mr Brummell, whose style was legendary.
Will waited in the entrance hall for the flunky to find Somerwell. A group of three young men entered, laughing and joking together, their clothes fashionable in ways that Will recognized but felt unable to wear himself. In Yorkshire, a man who overdressed would be an object of ridicule and the fear of it still kept him from allowing his tailor full rein. But he noted every little detail, storing it all away to ponder later.
The three turned towards the stairs, their passage punctuated with another loud burst of laughter, leaving Will feeling oddly out of place. Oh, to be part of such a group, to have friends to pass the daytime hours with, to havemalefriends! He had Tibbs and Hatts and other friends from Harrow and Cambridge scattered over the country, as well as numerous young men in Yorkshire. There had even been a club, of a sort, but the talk had been all of business and Will had never been especially interested in that. But these men were different, for no mundane call of business tethered them to earth. They were free to float about here and there, doing whatever they wished, enjoying themselves. Will soaked it all in, feeling that at last he was where he belonged. He had found his proper sphere.
As the three began their ascent, another young man came down the stairs but the three continued in such disordered haste that the other was jostled, thrown against the banister and almost fell. The three laughed heartily at that. “Stand aside, fellow!” one said imperiously. And then they were gone.
A pair of footmen rushed forward to attend the young man, who merely shook his head sorrowfully and went on his way, but the incident left Will repenting of his previous admiration of the supercilious three. He had met their ilk at Harrow and at Cambridge, where they did little work, spent their lives in idleness and dissipation, and amused themselves by harassing anyone they deemed inferior. Will, as a son of trade, naturally came into that category, and had been jostled and abused a few times in just such a manner, until he had taken up the recreation of boxing. After that, the idle aristocrats had left him alone.
Somerwell arrived, wreathed in scent strong enough to make Will’s eyes water. “Fletcher! My good fellow! Do come into the morning room.”
