by Emma Newman
Will did so, glad to be able to look out of windows without having to pose. “Like this?”
“Excellent.”
“I suppose you’ll be glad of the rest,” Will said.
“I only have a month, and then I’m off again with the Wisterias’ youngest.”
“He’s come of age already?” Will tried to remember the boy, but he’d been too bland to make an impression. “Is he travelling alone?” When the artist nodded, Will gave him a sympathetic glance. “Less fun for you, old chap. Thank goodness Oliver could travel with me, otherwise you’d have been forced to entertain me as well as record the journey.”
“I’m sure you would’ve been able to find your own entertainment without any help from me, sir,” Roberts said with a smirk. “Never have I had so many evenings off on an assignment.”
“That doesn’t leave this carriage, Roberts.”
“I am the epitome of discretion,” Roberts said. “I’m not the most sought-after Tour artist just because I can sketch in a moving carriage.”
The carriage turned a corner and began to climb another hill. They were on the last stretch. Will checked his cravat and put on his gloves. “It’s been a pleasure travelling with you, Roberts. I’ll write a letter of commendation for your portfolio and I’m sure Mother will give you a generous gift once she sees the painting of the Alpinums.”
“It has been a mutual pleasure, sir,” Roberts replied as the carriage stopped.
The footman opened the door and unfolded the step. Will jumped out of the carriage, eager to stretch his legs. The family home was, as expected, unchanged, nestled between two other splendid townhouses of the Royal Crescent.
The butler opened the door as he approached, a broad smile on his face. Pleasantries were exchanged as his luggage was unloaded from the carriage, and his gloves and cane were taken. He was ushered towards the drawing room where his family were waiting.
“William!” His mother was the first to rush over and embrace him. She didn’t look a day over twenty, her chestnut-brown hair arranged to frame her face beautifully. “Look at you!”
His father greeted him with a firm shake of the hand as his mother kissed him on the cheek.
“You left a boy and returned such a handsome young man!” she said, smiling proudly.
“You’re as brown as a filthy stableboy,” Nathaniel said, stepping forward to shake hands as Father withdrew. “Mother, stop making such a fuss, he’s barely inside the room.”
She allowed William to enter. His elder brother’s handshake was just as painful as he remembered; Nathaniel was still unable to greet him without trying to prove who was the more important. Will did his best to return the gesture, earning a twitch of Nathaniel’s left eyebrow.
“Seems that life amongst the savages suits you, brother,” Nathaniel remarked, and moved away to allow his elder sister to have her turn at putting Will in his place.
“William,” she said, with a cold smile. “How delightful to see you again.” She came over and planted a kiss on his other cheek. He liked how she had to stand on tiptoes to do so. She looked more like Mother than he remembered.
“You are a picture, Imogen,” he said as his hand luggage was brought in. And little more, he thought, but didn’t voice it.
As he accepted her kiss, he saw his uncle waiting his turn. “Uncle Vincent!” He was glad to see his favourite had been invited. Uncle Vincent was the only one in the room who looked older since the last time Will saw him, older even than his father, despite the fact that he was Father’s younger brother. He’d clearly been having too much fun in Mundanus. Will made a mental note to arrange lunch with him to hear the juicy details.
“And me!” The little voice heralded an awkward silence.
He searched for its source and saw a small girl with one hand clutched around one of the silken folds of his mother’s gown, the other waving to him. Her hair was lighter than his siblings, but she had his mother’s eyes, like they all did.
“This is Sophia,” his mother said.
“You’re no longer the baby of the family,” Nathaniel chipped in.
“I’d like to think I haven’t been the baby for some time,” Will replied, covering his shock. A fourth child? He glanced at Father but he was cutting the end off a cigar and handing it to Uncle Vincent. He looked back at the small girl who had taken a tentative step towards him. He opened his arms and a delighted smile made her face angelic as she bounced over to be picked up.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as the others had. “Hello, Will-yum.”
“Hello, Sophia,” he replied, and earned another kiss.
“She has a tendency to do that,” Nathaniel muttered, but Will simply kissed her back, earning a roll of the eyes from his brother but a sparkling grin from Sophia, which seemed much better value.
“Are you home forever now?”
“Yes.”
“Will you come and play in the Mundanus garden with me? Imogen won’t.” She pouted at her elder sister whose nose tilted upwards.
“Catching a ball is simply not incentive enough for losing one’s youth,” she said.
Will had a sudden craving for the mundane woman he’d chased through the surf on the coast of Sicily. Her skin was bronzed, she’d exuded life, and hadn’t given a moment’s care to whether the sun and sand would age her. His sister looked like a pale feather of a girl in comparison. All of them would now.
“I’ll come and play catch with you,” he said to Sophia. “It’s all right for big brothers to age a little.”
“Only enough to lose their boyish faces,” his mother said. “And, at the right time, to edge carefully towards distinguished.” She nodded towards Father. “But one must take care never to overdo it.”
“Would you like a sherry, Uncle Vincent?” Imogen asked, and Nathaniel smirked at her timing.
Will had almost forgotten what it was like to constantly be on guard. Oliver, his best friend and middle son of the Peonia family, was delightfully straightforward in comparison to his barbed siblings, and had been a fine companion for the Grand Tour. Will hoped all his time with Oliver and Roberts hadn’t rusted his social armour.
“Time for your gifts, I believe,” he said, setting Sophia down. She lurked near his leg before being coaxed away by their mother.
Sherry was handed out as he opened the smallest of his leather cases. The bag had been with him for the entirety of the trip, either held in his own hand or in sight as it was carried by porters or bellboys. It had been up mountains and down into dingy nightclubs all over Mundanus, in the finest guest bedrooms of the grandest Nether houses all over the world. He was pleased by the way it also had aged just enough.
He lifted out the first box, one of the largest in the bag, and held it towards his father. “For the man who wants for nothing.”
His father set his glass down, rested the cigar on the edge of an ashtray and crossed the room as the family watched. Will could still remember all of the gifts Nathaniel had brought back after his tour and he wanted to outdo every single one.
Father set the box down on a nearby table, unwrapped the plain brown paper and uncovered a humidor made of the most beautiful walnut. An unimpressed snort came from his brother’s direction.
“The gift is inside,” Will said. The box was opened and a row of cigars revealed. “There are three dozen Cohiba cigars that I personally commissioned from the owner of the company, using a blend hand-picked by their best tobacco expert.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to his father. “They were hand-rolled on the thighs of a virgin Cuban girl with a face like an angel. I took the liberty of using a discreet Charm to put a little of her innocence into each one. It will make for an interesting smoke.”
His father actually looked intrigued, lifting one out to run it under his nose. Will noted how Nathaniel picked that moment to refill his glass and felt the warm glow of personal satisfaction. “I’ll save my first for after dinner. It’s a most thoughtful gift, thank
you.”
“Your gift next, Mother, I’ll just have it brought in.”
He waved the footman in who’d been waiting in the hallway. He was carrying a painting wrapped in layers of fabric and canvas to protect it, and once it had been balanced on the arm of a chair it was unwrapped for her.
The painting was of her sister’s family, with Will seated next to his cousins. “I had Roberts paint it when we visited Austria,” he said, delighted by his mother’s astonished gasp.
“Clara doesn’t look a day older! And her sons aren’t nearly as handsome as you, Will.” She radiated delight. “What a beautiful gift, thank you, darling.”
He earned another kiss from his mother and a slight frown from Nathaniel. “And now you, dear brother,” he said, returning to his bag. “I searched the world for something more dangerous than you and your sword.”
Nathaniel laughed. “That’s an impressive challenge to set for yourself. Did you succeed?”
“Oh, yes.” Will gave his most devilish smile, and when he was sure everyone’s anticipation had been built to perfection, he pulled out the tiny package. There was a titter from Imogen and Uncle Vincent. “But first, you need to put these on.” He produced a pair of leather gloves with a flourish that drew the family closer.
Nathaniel put them on, looking Will in the eye as he did so. Then he ripped off the paper and plucked out one of the chilli peppers from their wrapping. “Is that it?” he asked.
“That, dear brother, is the hottest chilli pepper in the world. It’s called the ‘Trinidad Scorpion Butch T’.”
“What a vulgar name,” Nathaniel said with a sniff.
“It was grown in Australia, I watched this batch being picked. Try it, if you dare.”
“After I’ve seen what you’ve brought for everyone else,” Nathaniel said.
“Coward,” Imogen prodded him. “Go on. I want to see if it makes you cry.”
“I will if you will,” Nathaniel said, holding it out to his brother.
Will had prepared for this moment. “As you wish,” he smiled, and bit a tiny piece off. A beat later Nathaniel did the same. He flushed the same red as Will, but dashed out of the room, coughing.
Will grinned as Imogen applauded him.
“That was a little cruel, William,” Mother said.
“It was nothing worse than what he gave me,” he replied, blinking away the tears that had sprung as he swallowed the sliver of pepper. The weeks of desensitisation had been just enough, though he did fear that he’d never be able to taste anything properly ever again. It was still worth it.
“I hope that’s the last of this childish one-upmanship between you,” his father said, looking unimpressed.
“I doubt there is anything that could follow it, Father,” Will replied.
“It’s just a bit of fun, George,” Uncle Vincent said. “A little healthy rivalry is only natural.”
They exchanged a look that made Will uncomfortable. Again, he was reminded of this life of unspoken things. He sipped the water that the butler had brought in after seeing Nathaniel dash out, and straightened his waistcoat.
“Whilst Nathaniel tidies himself up, I think it’s time for Imogen’s present,” he said, seeing a flicker of excitement cross his sister’s face.
He produced the next package from his bag, a slender box wrapped in oriental paper. “I procured this from a most interesting individual in China,” he said as he handed it to her. “This is the first part.”
She unwrapped it eagerly and pulled the fan out of the box. Spreading it open, she smiled at the blue irises hand-painted in the oriental style. “It’s beautiful,” she said, but he could see she was disappointed.
“The second part is the secret that only the owner of the fan may hear, one that I must pass to you in private.”
Her demeanour shifted into one of delight. “I look forward to it.”
“Uncle Vincent, this is for you,” he said, passing him the gift.
His uncle smiled broadly at the deck of cards.
“Hand-painted and unique,” Will told him. “I’ll tell you about the artist over a game of poker.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” his uncle said with a wink.
“But what about my present?” Sophia asked.
“Darling, William didn’t–”
“I have it in here somewhere,” Will cut in, mouthing an apology to his mother as Sophia rushed over to peep into the bag. “Ah, here it is!”
He produced an ornate key carved out of ivory.
“Oooooh!” Sophia took it. “What does it open?”
“Ah,” Will said, thinking quickly. “That key opens a very special box that can only be opened when you come of age.”
Sophia pouted. “But that’s days and days away!”
Will laughed and pulled out a bag of caramels left over from the journey. “Perhaps these will keep you happy until then.”
Duty discharged, he accepted his glass of sherry as they inspected each other’s presents. Nathaniel eventually reappeared, giving William a glare as he entered.
“I’d take it as a compliment,” Uncle Vincent said to him. “If it had been anything less fiery, it would have insulted your prowess as a swordsman.”
Nathaniel chose to agree, accepting his uncle’s implicit efforts to calm things between them. “That’s a good point, Uncle.” He came over and shook Will’s hand. “Touché, dear brother.”
Their father nodded in satisfaction. “Well, now that William has duly impressed us all, it’s time to let him rest and settle back in.” He came over and put a hand on his shoulder. “A word with you in my study first, William.”
He followed his father out, enjoying the smell of home once again. Beeswax polish mixed with the scent of fresh irises arranged in vases throughout the house. The study was also unchanged.
“You seem to have had a successful trip,” his father said as he sat at his desk and gestured for Will to seat himself opposite.
“It was both enlightening and educational,” Will replied. The Grand Tour had gone out of fashion in Mundanus but still thrived in Nether society and he was glad of it. Four years of travelling from country to country, visiting incredible places in both Mundanus and the Nether, really had broadened his mind, but not in the way his parents hoped. He’d had fun, met many people and forged contacts in the Nether courts abroad that would help him in the future, but he didn’t return full of disdain for the mundane life.
“I appreciate the painting you commissioned for your mother. I know she misses her sister.”
Will gave a gentle nod to acknowledge the compliment.
“Now, to business.” His father leaned forward, resting his elbows on the blotter. His sideburns were peppered with grey, but he still didn’t look anywhere near his age. Not that Will was certain what that was, but he knew his father was over ninety. “But before I begin, I want to know if there’s anything you need to tell me about your trip.”
“I have a veritable smorgasbord of anecdotes that I’ll dine out on for weeks,” Will replied.
“I meant anything that needs to be dealt with discreetly.”
“Don’t worry, Father, I was very careful.”
His father held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Good. I didn’t want to hear about illegitimate children or reports of duelling without knowing first.”
Will bit back a comment about knowing how to have fun without it staining one’s shirt. He wondered if Oliver was having the same conversation with his father on the other side of the city.
“Now that you’ve had your Tour it’s time for you to settle down and establish yourself in your own right.”
Will nodded. He’d expected this, just not so soon. He hadn’t even had a chance to unpack. “I understand, although I’m surprised Nathaniel hasn’t married yet. Father, is there some kind of problem?”
“Negotiations for Nathaniel are in progress,” his father replied curtly.
As the heir to the most powerful family in Aquae
Sulis, Nathaniel was one of the most eligible bachelors of his generation. As the spare, Will knew that his parents would agonise less over the match they made for him.
“And how are negotiations for my marriage progressing?”
“It’s been decided. We want to announce it at the ball on Friday, if the Censor permits.”
Will breathed slow and steady. He’d known all his life that this time would come. He and Oliver had discussed it at length, speculating about who they’d be promised to whilst they were away. He was glad he’d made the most of the trip – it sounded like his father didn’t want to waste any time. “And who is it to be, Father?”
“Catherine Rhoeas-Papaver.”
Will ensured his face was a mask. Later, in the privacy of his own room, he would swear, but, scrutinised by his father, he simply nodded. “I see.”
“I know she isn’t a beauty, but she secures our alliance with the Papavers, and with that we can control the Council of Aquae Sulis and the city of Bath in totality. The Bath Preservation Trust is well established now and, thanks to our hard work, it’s practically impossible for the mundanes to disrupt the city’s architecture.”
Will struggled to suppress any sign of his disappointment. He’d hoped for Oliver’s sister, who was docile enough to forget about when with a mistress, and a good excuse to spend time on the town with Oliver; or, at a push, Elizabeth Papaver, who made up for her vapid nature with her beauty and musical talent. But Catherine Papaver? She’d been so far down the list he and Oliver had debated on the Rialto in Venice that they’d forgotten about her.
Why her? He wanted to stand up and bang his fist on the table and demand the answer. He’d always been good, he’d worked hard to learn the rules of the game and play his part with perfection. To be matched with the dud of the Papavers’ latest generation was hardly the reward he expected and deserved, but he had to say something polite. “It sounds like a very strategically important match, Father.”
“It’s critical to secure our local interests,” his father replied. “I understand that she’s been in Switzerland for the past three years at a finishing school. Seems the Papavers realised she needed polishing up.”