wife and children as if he and Lady Pitt-Riverston were long lost friends.
“Perhaps you’d like to bring your little ones a bird or two from our menagerie,” she cheerfully offered. “Little Benjy and Marcella are the most adorable warblers. They understand perfectly when you talk to them,” she added with a smile. “And they know their numbers.”
“Thank you for offering,” Symon politely replied, wary of birds that knew their numbers or people who said they did-however kind Lady Pitt-Riverston. “But the city is no place for birds. The fog, you know,” he said with a grimace. “It’s quite insalubrious.”
“Indeed,” Lady Pitt-Riverston agreed with a little
“It’s lovely of you to ask, but with the long train ride, I’m afraid they may be damaged in transit.”
“More tea, then, Mr. Symon? Another cake perhaps? You could use a little weight on your bones.”
“Tea, please. It’s excellent.”
“A China green, Mr. Symon. Howard’s favorite. There now,” she said, pouring tea into his cup. “And I’m just going to put another small piece of cake on your plate,” she firmly added.
He didn’t argue. Having avoided birds and beetles, he could deal with an extra piece of cake. For the next few minutes, it wasn’t necessary to do more than nod his head and drink his tea for Lady Pitt-Riverston was explaining at some length how to teach birds their numbers.
Rosalind’s father was attending to some experiment and was only fetched once Algernon arrived. He appeared in a workman’s smock and slippers, still scribbling in a notebook as he entered the room.
“You must set that aside now, my dear,” his wife admonished. “Mr. Symon has important matters to discuss with us.”
It took the baron a fraction of a second to respond, but after adding a few more notations, he set the notebook and pencil aside, smiled at those gathered around the tea table, and sat down to join them. “I’m told this has something to do with Rosalind,” he said, fixing Symon with his clear blue gaze.
“Mr. Symon represents a client in London, Howard.”
“You’ve come a long way,” Lord Pitt-Riverston noted, “when Rosalind could be spoken to directly.”
“There is a slight problem, my lord,” Symon tactfully replied.
“With your client and my daughter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And who might your client be?” The baron had the direct, assessing gaze of a scientist.
“The Duke of Groveland, my lord.” Symon went on to explain the situation with the Duke of Groveland’s urban development. Their daughter’s bookstore was within the tract the duke wished to acquire, and she was the last property owner who had not yet agreed to sell to the duke. He then cited the sum Fitz had offered. “So you see, the duke is very generous. I’ve come to speak with you today in hopes you might be able to persuade your daughter”-he nodded at Algernon-“and sister to agree to the duke’s terms.”
“She’s refused him? ” Algernon sharply queried.
“Many times, I’m afraid.” Mr. Symon offered the party a pained smile. “The sum she’d realize from the sale would be more than enough to buy another shop in a different location, as well as leave her with a considerable profit.”
“My goodness, twenty thousand!” Lady Pitt-Riverston murmured. She was in charge of household expenses; her husband took no notice of money or more pertinently in their case, the lack of it.
“It’s a bloody fortune,” Algernon said bluntly. “She’s a fool if she doesn’t take it.”
“Perhaps you could apprise her of your sentiments,” Symon diplomatically noted.
“Now, now,” the baron interposed. “Rosalind must have her reasons for refusing. She’s an intelligent woman. Perhaps there are extenuating circumstances. I’m not sure we should interfere.” He and his daughter shared common crusading convictions; he respected the choices she’d made. “Although, I certainly understand it’s a large sum, my dear,” he said, turning to his wife, not unaware of the sacrifices she made to keep their household solvent. “Perhaps we should at least wait to hear from Rosalind.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Algernon responded. “She obviously doesn’t understand the benefits of twenty thousand pounds. It would change her life.”
“I think she’s quite content,” the baron said, understanding his daughter’s feelings since fulfillment for him was a simple matter of puttering around his laboratory.
“Your father might be right, dear,” Lady Pitt-Riverston said, with a smile for her son. “How can it hurt to wait a bit? ”
Understanding his only ally was Algernon, otherwise his business was done, Mr. Symon proposed to have a private conversation with Mrs. St. Vincent’s brother. “Thank you kindly for listening to my proposal,” the barrister said with a pleasant smile before turning to Algernon. “If you’d care to share a pint with me before my train leaves, Mr. Pitt-Riverston,” he said, “I’d be interested in hearing about the local grouse hunting.” Rising to his feet, he picked up his hat and bowed to Lady Pitt-Riverston. “Thank you again, ma’am.”
“I’d be more than happy to help you,” Algernon returned, coming to his feet as well. “Thank you for tea, Mother. Father.” He dipped his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mr. Symon would have been willing to wait for the morning train if it meant returning with the commitment Hutchinson wanted. Now to see if the brother had a price or more aptly, the exact amount of that price.
A short time later, he and Algernon were seated at a table in the local village pub. Once their cognacs were served, Symon lifted his glass. “Thank you for keeping me company. Cheers.”
Algernon dipped his head, raised his glass, and the men drank down their cognacs.
Pleased to see that his companion was a tippler, Symon signaled for more drinks. “As you may have surmised,” he said as they waited for their drinks, “I wanted to discuss something other than grouse hunting.”
Algernon smiled faintly. “By all means, please do. I don’t hunt in any case so I wouldn’t have been of much help in that regard.”
“I was hoping you could help me in another way, Mr. Pitt-Riverston. And if you were so inclined, I’m sure the Duke of Groveland would be
“How grateful? ” Algernon had not inherited the philanthropic genes in the family.
“I’m sure you could name your price,” the barrister smoothly replied, pleased to find a family member who understood how business was conducted. “Just between us, sir, may I say your sister seems to put no value at all on money. Twenty thousand is an enormous sum.” Symon had been one of the many agents sent to make offers to Rosalind.
Algernon snorted. “She’s blind to the ways of the world-she sees herself as some ministering angel to the poor,” he added with a sneer. “Neither she nor her dilettante of a husband had any appreciation for the solid principles that have made Britain the envy of the world. Industry and professional men drive the engine of commerce. Not poets,” he spat, “or free libraries for the poor.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Symon would have agreed with the devil to get the job done.
“So how might I help you? ”
“How much influence do you have with your sister? ”
“To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure. But rest assured, I shall exert what pressure I have to make her understand the merits of accepting such a generous offer.”
“I’m sure the duke would be willing to offer you a down payment for your immediate assistance, and should you persuade your sister to sell, you need but name your reward.”
“Three hundred now.” Crisp and clipped.
“Very well.” A tidy sum Symon thought; the brother was greedy. But he took out his wallet and counted out the bills.
“I’ll send her a telegram immediately, then follow up with a letter. If she still remains adamant, I’ll travel down to London and deal with her face-to-face. I’ll make it clear to her that our parents could use financial help and with twenty thousand she could do so. There is filial duty after all; she is not ignorant of the principle. And so I will remind her.”
Their drinks came and Symon lifted his. “To a profitable association.”
“To our common goal,” Algernon added, holding his glass aloft.
The men drank, both pleased with the arrangement.
