To Catch a Rake

by Sally Orr

  “No.” Lily pursed her lips. “He can pay me a call to apologize, and I will hear him out. I can give him nothing more.”

  “This is not like you—you have a kind heart. Are you telling me you no longer love James?”

  “No, I am not saying that…exactly. I’m saying he must apologize to me first, on principle.”

  She recognized the appearance of her sister’s innate stubbornness, mixed with the mortification of rejection. “Well, come and join me then. Together we will pay a call at Codlington House, and you and James can have a word in private. Show him the letter, and all will be forgotten. We can then celebrate together.”

  The smallest of smiles finally broke across Lily’s face. “Thank you, I really mean it, but I must refuse. James must come to me.”

  Meta sometimes failed to understand her father or her siblings, leaving her anxious, unable to sleep, and even ill from too much worry. Unfortunately, these feelings proved to have little effect upon the final outcome. Now her mind only registered the fact that Lily needed her. Not only that, but she had great affection for James and worried that he too might be unhappy.

  They both needed her to facilitate a reconciliation.

  An hour later, Meta found herself standing in front of the home of Lady Codlington and her only son, James. The Codlingtons’ town house was at least twice the size of their home, and it possessed a lovely view of the park from the front rooms. While the size and situation of the house matched the elevated status of the Codlington family, it stood merely three dozen houses away from the more modest home of the Broadshams. Indeed, the two families frequently met during evening walks in the park. As a result, the Codlingtons’ butler greeted her warmly and showed her to the large library overlooking the private side garden. A climbing old rose grew next to the open window. The day was a warm one, so the scent of roses overwhelmed the normal smell of old books.

  Meta hurried over to examine her favorite object in the room, the jovilabe orrery—a mechanical device the size of a tabletop that showed Jupiter and its four Galilean moons. The clocklike mechanism controlled the slow orbit of the four moons around a stationary Jupiter. Both the planet and its moons were made of polished semiprecious stones. The pretty green color of little Io’s malachite was her favorite, so she stroked the cool green stone. Upon her touch, she realized a desire to show the orrery’s gears to Mr. Drexel. Because of his obvious admiration of all things mechanical, he would delight in watching the tiny gears advance ever so slowly, causing the moons to dance around the great marble Jupiter.

  The moment she saw Io move a fraction, Lady Codlington entered the library and greeted her. “Well, my dear, I do not know what to say to you about this business.” The older woman slowly moved to sit in her favorite chair by the fire and spread her black bombazine skirt out in front of her.

  “Good afternoon, your ladyship.”

  “I imagine you have called to change my son’s mind about his broken engagement. But I will speak plainly, since I am well-known for my frankness. The situation will not change. I insist you drop the matter. Thanks to that field guide, my son has come to his senses at last. In the future, he’ll make a match that will prove useful to a young man destined to have the highest office in the Court of Common Pleas—not become shackled for life with a young lady who blushes every time someone speaks a sentence in her direction. No, to advance his calling, he needs a spouse with social skills, like myself, to further his ambitions.”

  “Mother, enough.”

  Meta turned to find James entering the cavernous library. A short, broad-shouldered gentleman of twenty-two, James wore a lovely velvet jacket the color of the strongest claret. He strolled over and greeted Meta warmly. “I’m sorry I was not here to greet you upon your arrival.”

  His mother interrupted. “I was just explaining to Mrs. Russell that the engagement between you and her sister is rightly called off. I mean—”

  “Thank you.” He moved to stand in front of her and held out his hand. “I know your intentions are good; however, I must insist upon speaking with Mrs. Russell in private.”

  Lady Codlington dropped her jaw before narrowing her eyes. “Now, son—”

  “Please, dear.” Beaming affably, James picked up his mother’s hand and exerted gentle pressure to pull her to her feet.

  She frowned, pulled her hand away, and rose without assistance. “Very well. Although I do not expect any change in the situation. I think—”

  “I really must insist this interview be private,” he said.

  Her ladyship shook her head and said her farewells. Her spirits remained benevolent enough to express her best wishes to Meta and her family.

  Meta curtsied, and the older woman left the library.

  James paused and watched his mother slowly leave the room, her gait revealing the effects of her age. “I apologize, Meta. She means well, truly.” He smiled, then held his hand out in a motion for her to sit. “It is difficult for any young man to convince his mother of his independence. I should’ve left this house and set up a residence of my own upon my coming of age. I am quite capable of independent living, but I reside here now solely to give her company and comfort, since she took to her sickbed for so many months after my father’s death. Unfortunately, there are consequences of remaining in your childhood home. And you just witnessed an example: the well-intentioned, but odorous interference in a grown man’s affairs.”

  Meta gave him a wistful smile. “Mothers believe their children are always in need of their advice and assistance. I’ll probably treat my siblings like children for as long as they live. Fitzy will be old and toothless, but I’ll still believe I might be able to help him. Oh, that sounds just terrible, doesn’t it?” Her cheeks warmed. “I really don’t mean to interfere, but I want to be present if they need me in any way. I would hate to see any one of them suffer or be unhappy.”

  “Don’t distress yourself. I have noticed you sacrifice your own comfort for the sake of your siblings. You left your husband’s lovely house in Sussex and moved back here to care for the entire household. As an only child, I truly believe the attention from a sister must be a wonderful thing, even if it might tire”—he winked—“on occasion.”

  “Oh, James, I do wish you will become my brother.” No gentleman had ever impressed her more by his kindness and amiability.

  He reddened slightly.

  “Please allow me to speak on the matter.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing can be gained by it. My aspirations to become a justice and hold higher office means my wife’s character must be beyond reproach. Later this year my name will be put forward in consideration for an important appointment at court. I think you fail to understand the scandalous tittle-tattle the rumor of a second edition has caused. The members of my club plan to spend endless hours trying to guess the identity of each new lady, under the assumption that the names differ by a letter or two. Even if the public did not immediately relate the initials in the book to Lily’s, they might someday, and a scandal would arise. I’d be passed over for appointment and my judicial career ended.”

  “You are expecting the worst that could happen, James. I truly believe your fears are unreasonable.” She glanced toward the door. “Did your mother come up with this…” She did not want to unjustly accuse his mother of interference or causing the situation in the first place. She faced him and implored. “Lily deserves better than being jilted.”

  His eyes widened, then he let the silence stretch. He brushed his thinning hair across his forehead. “Yes, on principle I agree with you. I apologize and wish to make amends by any means other than marriage. But I have no wish to remain a junior lawyer. Gentlemen have a great desire to succeed, Meta—a strong ambition that women are not fully aware of.” He walked to the fireplace and stared at the ruby-like coals. “Tell me, how is Lily? What does she think of me?” His cinched fist rested on the mantel.

  Meta rose and placed her palm on his back.

  He turned and
smiled at her.

  “I do not wish to betray a sister’s confidences, but I am concerned about her welfare. Lily loves you dearly and is deeply hurt by your refusal. I hate to pain you, James, but you must be aware of that?”

  He nodded, lips pursed. “It will be for the best. I must believe that.”

  She pulled away and placed her hands on her hips. “Well I do not. The two of you are in love. And that is a rare thing, indeed, rare enough to celebrate and fight for. Right now I feel like a governess in charge of naughty children. So to set the situation to rights, I had a word with Mr. Drexel, the so-called author of the field guide you mentioned.”

  “Meta! You did not mention my name, did you? Involve a stranger in my personal affairs?”

  She blushed. “I-I do not remember what I said precisely. I did, however, call in the company of Lily and Fitzy. After requesting a private interview with Mr. Drexel, I discussed Lily’s happiness and the great injustice of his field guide. After some protestation of nonsense about men and feelings—”

  “You didn’t.” Once again, wide-eyed horror graced his features.

  She never realized before how touchy gentlemen could be on the subject of feelings. “Mr. Drexel was kind enough to give us this note.” She reached into her silver chain link reticule, pulled out the white paper folded into a small square, and held it out for him to take.

  He snatched it out of her hand. “I would hate to falsely condemn you, Meta, but please do not concern yourself with my personal affairs in public.”

  “You have no concerns on that score, James. Mr. Drexel is as reticent and sardonic as they come.” After yesterday’s excitement, she realized her interest in Mr. Drexel had not faded in the least. Even this morning during her ablutions, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing that very moment—an unsettling thought.

  James unfolded the note and read, “Mr. Codlington…Miss Lily Broadsham is not a female of my acquaintance…not in my field guide…mistake her initials for Lady Lynette Bearsham. Regards, Geo Drexel.”

  “So you see,” Meta said, “you were quite wrong to believe Lily’s name appeared in this man’s book.”

  His brow smoothed as he returned to his seat. “The note provides little explanation and is rather terse.”

  “It provides the necessary information, surely. Now that you understand this whole nonsense is just a mix-up, please speak to Lily again.”

  “Lynette Bearsham? That name is fictional, don’t you agree? I’m acquainted with many of our aristocracy, and I am not aware of a family named Bearsham. It seems this Mr. Drexel cannot be relied upon to tell the truth.”

  “James, his field guide is fictional, so the names are fictional too.” She considered James to be one of the most intelligent of men of her acquaintance. However, the fact that the field guide was fictional seemed to be irrelevant to him. It didn’t surprise her, since many gentlemen were blind when it came to the subject of females and romance.

  “I don’t understand why this man went to the trouble of writing this note. I need to know more about this so-called gentleman. What is your evaluation of his character, his manners? What if word got out that I sought his assistance?” His eyes grew wide again.

  She finally realized his obvious fear that any whiff of scandal would harm his future appointment. “I can assure you, no personal confidences were revealed. Lily has told me very little about your conversation. I merely suggested that Mr. Drexel might help a young couple by clarifying an unfortunate situation he caused. The man is a gentleman, although perhaps not a normal one. His manners can turn dreadfully bearlike, and you’re correct, his conversation can turn a little terse in seconds. Otherwise, I was pleasantly surprised. He is not at all like a scoundrel who would pen a book like the field guide. Behind his bluster is a gentleman who does care about setting the situation to rights for the sake of his reputation, if nothing else. He is an engineer, working on Mr. Marc Brunel’s Thames Tunnel. Personally, I believe his brevity is because he has taken on too much work for himself and shoulders serious responsibilities.”

  “The Tunnel!” James smiled, and for the first time in their interview, he seemed to relax. “I know one of the lawyers overseeing the endeavor, and I do so admire Mr. Brunel. He is our greatest engineer, although it would not suit to say that in front of some members of my club, since he is a Frenchman. Still, his tunnel is important, and we all eagerly anticipate news of the latest progress.”

  “I’m delighted to hear that. Perhaps now you will take Mr. Drexel as a man of his word and resume your attentions to Lily.”

  He glanced at the door, presumably in the direction of his mother. “I’m sorry, Meta. While I do admire Mr. Brunel, I have never heard of this Mr. Drexel. My future is too important to rely upon the word of—now here I must disagree with you—the word of a man who could pen that book, a true rogue.”

  “But here is your chance to correct your mistake and prove your independence to your mother.”

  “There is another reason you are unaware of. If I did as you ask, there is every chance she would deny me my living. I’d be forced to live like a pauper. No, Meta, I understand you mean well. I just do not see a pathway to happiness that will please everyone. I cannot help but be conflicted.” He hung his head slightly, revealing his thinning hair on top. “I know you must hate me. Indeed, the whole family must hate me. I dare not even imagine what Lily must think of me. Instead, I must believe a girl with her beauty and sweet nature will undoubtedly find a husband worthy of her.”

  She tried to lighten his mood. “Together you’d be happy paupers. Besides, a respectable living is a moot point. Lily’s fortune is sufficient for two responsible adults to live on. Therefore, when you wed, you will have a living adequate for any lawyer with higher aspirations.”

  He paused. “I’m glad to hear that, but it’s not just the living. This perceived scandal in her past might harm my future ambitions. Chief justices, judges, and Polite Society are not so forgiving as you would imagine.”

  “Seems to me a career is a small price to pay to marry the woman you love. Surely if your advancement fails due to some misconception about Lily’s reputation, there are other professions available?” For the first time, she became aware of James’s stubbornness and unsure if he was indeed worthy of her sister. He seemed to value ambition over love. But she knew Lily loved him, loved him enough to be terribly hurt by this whole affair. “What can I do to change your mind?”

  He gave her a direct stare, his eyes wide. “I don’t know…”

  His intransigence forced her to speak without reserve. “If you resolve to abandon your engagement, your actions may reinforce society’s belief that the initials are Lily’s. She’d be wrongfully judged by the public. She was eighteen at the time of the first publication. Eighteen! If you do love her, how could you put her reputation in jeopardy like that?”

  He jumped to his feet, horror crossing his features. “I-I-I had not considered that.”

  Meta waited for a reply, but he just stood there. “Perhaps if this Mr. Drexel paid a call and explained the situation, you’d gain confidence that the scandal you believe might happen in the future can be avoided.”

  “If only that were true.” He shook his head, sighed, and collapsed onto his chair. “But I don’t see how.”

  “You must give Mr. Drexel a chance to explain the situation. Maybe there are facts we are unaware of, like only a few copies were printed.”

  “No, no, they were all laughing about it at my club, you understand.”

  “Please think of how happy you both will be together with this misunderstanding put behind you.”

  They exchanged heartfelt smiles.

  “Please give my idea a chance,” Meta said. “I will go and speak with him again. Maybe together, and with Mr. Drexel’s assistance, we can find a way to change society’s perception and find our way out of this unfortunate muddle.”

  * * *

  A day later, Meta sat in her carriage, her palms
damp, all because she journeyed to the south side of the Thames to meet George Drexel again. This time she understood his attractiveness to females, so she should easily be able to steel herself from his charms or at the very least ignore her own response.

  Before she reached the Thames Tunnel site, she glanced out the window at the crowded streets and mulled over the best method to persuade him to visit James in person. She could plead, demand, attempt tears, ask kindly, or bribe. Perhaps, “Mr. Drexel, I must insist you consider the feelings of…” No, that plea would fail. Meta knew any mention of feelings would bring out the appearance of the bear. Then the angry beast would refuse to join her in convincing James that Lily’s name was not in the field guide or help devise a plan to counter the public’s erroneous perception, such as removing the initials from the book entirely. If he refused to join her, it would end her last hope to rob James of his excuse to call off his engagement. How about, “Mr. Drexel, since you are a gentleman…” No, she doubted that tactic would work either, since he impressed her as a man who might achieve a certain thrill from considering himself not a gentleman, a most perverse individual.

  She had plenty of time to formulate her request in a manner Mr. Drexel could not possibly refuse, since it took her over an hour to cross the Thames. This wait was not news to her, but it brought into focus the advantages of a low-cost tunnel to travel to the south side of the river.

  Once she reached the tunnel site in Rotherhithe, she observed a large, round brick pit, similar to the model she had observed in Mr. Drexel’s rooms. The spectacular iron-ringed pit impressed her immediately, since it was much larger than she had imagined. She watched sixty or so men hard at work: bricklayers, ironworkers, men hauling bags slung over their shoulders, and at least twenty men surrounding a structure that must be the twelve frames Mr. Drexel had described. The sounds of hammers, whistles, and shouts filled the air around them. Awed by the sight before her, and thankful that the day turned out to be a warm, sunny one, she stood and watched the workers for at least twenty minutes.