A Wedding In Springtime(58)
“Yes, yes I did. It’s not far. Think I can do it if I apply myself.”
“Are you well? I should hate to leave you unprotected if you are febrile or concussed.”
“Am I well? Attempting to walk the streets of London!” To his friend’s, and perhaps his own, astonishment, Grant strolled down the street, walking around the block back home.
The walk itself was not long, yet he was feeling ridiculously pleased with himself for making the effort when he walked in the front door. He was greeted by his butler and his housekeeper. Armed with a comb in one hand and a hairbrush in the other, the housekeeper disappeared into the parlor to tame the wild head of Jem the urchin.
As Grant handed off his greatcoat, which this time he had managed to retrieve, a knock came at the door.
“Mr. Saunders,” said Grant in greeting.
“Good day, Mr. Grant,” said the man of business. “I have come to collect some papers from your father’s study. He wrote to me to take care of a few things.”
“Yes, of course,” said Grant and ushered him into his father’s study. As his father’s man of business, Mr. Saunders was a not uncommon visitor, yet Grant knew very little of his activities. Instead of heading to the billiard room as usual, Grant turned and followed Mr. Saunders into the study.
“Mr. Grant, is there something I can help you with?” asked the thin man with an efficient clip to his tone.
“Wondering what you did. Maybe you could enlighten me.”
Mr. Saunders opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Grant waited for the first wave of shock to pass.
Mr. Saunders sat heavily in the oak chair behind the desk. “What would you like to know?”
“Everything!” Grant took a seat across from the befuddled man. “Why you’re here to start.”
“Ah, well,” said Saunders, shuffling about some papers. “We need to find new tenants for one of the estates.” Several thumps from somewhere inside the house caused the man to look up.
“Nothing to be concerned about.” Grant waved off the man’s worried expression. “New tenants? How do we do that?”
“We put out a notice with the land agent. Of course, we must first evict the present tenants. It might be a bit awkward since they have written me repeatedly asking for their lease to be extended.”
“Why not extend it?”
“They are more than six months behind on the rent. Apparently, they have taken on several orphan boys and the expenses were more than they expected.”
“An orphanage?”
“No, not quite if the letters are to be believed. They are a bit odd. Quakers, you understand, though we were not aware of it at the time of rental. They apparently feel the boys must be raised in a homelike setting.”
A crash came from the parlor and Mr. Saunders again looked up, alarmed.
“Think nothing of it,” said Grant calmly.
“But it sounds like something broke.” Mr. Saunders’s frown intensified when a howl erupted from the parlor.
“The orange cat figurine I can only hope,” said Grant wistfully. “Dreadful thing. Now tell me about this home for boys. I assure you nothing you could say could be of greater interest to me.”
“Well, I’m not sure what more there is to say, other than I am charged with writing to them to let them know we expect them to vacate the premises.”
“Oh no, we can’t have that,” declared Grant. “Their lease must be renewed.”
“But the rent—good heavens, sir, what is that noise?” A scream shot through the house.
“Hairbrush,” said Grant sagely. “Please do write these lovely Quakers and tell them we support their efforts, want to make a contribution. Christian duty and all that.”
“Hairbrush? Christian duty? Mr. Grant, is this some sort of joke?”
“No, no. You think me a heathen?”
“Well… I have not as yet seen any evidence you care to express your faith through action.”
“I do now,” said Grant plainly, even as another crash and a howl gave Mr. Saunders alarm.
“Mr. Grant, something is greatly amiss in your household!”
“Indeed! We must support this boys home at once!”
“Your father is a generous man and supports many causes, but this home is not one of them. I’m afraid the rent must be paid.”
“Take it out of my account.”