A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(13)
Verity was ready in good time for her day with Charles. She was confident she had said enough about Furze House for the present for the idea to now be embedded in his mind, and she did not wish him to become so aggravated with her that he fulfilled one of her wishes without also making a push on finding her half-sister. During breakfast, her mother very nearly scuppered the plan by wondering aloud whether this might not be an ideal time to call on Mr Tweedie herself regarding her annuity, but Verity, with great presence of mind, reminded her of Mr Tweedie being much engaged at present and put forward the counter suggestion that it would be far more pleasant, surely, to extend him an invitation to call at Grosvenor Street at his own convenience. They would then be warm and comfortable, unconstrained for time and while they discussed financial matters they could have refreshments far superior to any provided at his chambers.
The idea found favour, her mother wrote a note for Mr Tweedie, and Verity waited, outwardly calm, for Charles to collect her and take her away from curious ears. It was not precisely that she didn’t want anyone else privy to her quest for Kitty, it was more that she didn’t want her mother to build up her hopes and then be disappointed if she failed. She also didn’t want anyone putting well-meaning obstacles in her way.
Charles arrived in a hackney carriage looking in every way smart and sober. “You look very well,” she said, subjecting him to a friendly scrutiny, “though I cannot help regretting the loss of that crimson robe.”
“I fear not all my clients are as discerning as you,” he said gravely. “One day, perhaps, I may lead a revolution in exciting attire for the legal profession. Until then I had best follow the flock if I am to eat and pay the rent on my rooms.”
Good. He was in a agreeable mood. Verity smiled sunnily at him and kept up a bright flow of conversation on the way to his chambers, remarking on the shop fronts in Bond Street, the entrance to his Albany buildings and the imposing appearance of Somerset House, which she hadn’t realised was so large and handsome.
“We will see more of it at a later date,” said Charles. “The Royal Academy, Royal Society and Society of Antiquities are all based there, as well as various exhibitions and art shows. For now, Mr Scrivener will be waiting for us.”
The hackney stopped at Temple Bar, where they alighted, Verity taking Charles’s arm as they walked though the archway to the buildings of the Middle Temple.
“Oh, but these are charming!” exclaimed Verity looking around with interest. “I have never been in this part of London before.”
Charles slowed, matching his pace to hers. “There was no reason for you to have done. This is a place of professionals. In my first days here I felt very much as if I was attending an over-large house party given by someone I was not familiar with. Everyone appeared to know each other and there was a mysterious code of conduct that I had to learn before I was accepted.”
“Poor Charles. And do you now know where to assemble for dinner and which boot boy to bribe to get the best shine on your footwear?”
He laughed. “Something of the sort. We go down this way now, and around the corner here. The buildings are interesting rather than handsome, I think. Not all chambers reflect their external architecture. Mr Tweedie’s set of rooms are a good size, in some of the others I am amazed the clerks can find anything at all. The legal profession uses a great deal of paper, and all of it has to be stored.”
“That reminds me,” said Verity. “Mama wishes to invite Mr Tweedie to call on her at any time convenient to him. I have a letter from her. She was sorry he could not come into Newmarket himself after Uncle James’s death, though I personally was very well pleased it was you. She told me she remembered Mr Tweedie as having been very unobtrusive and kind during the preparations for her wedding to Papa, and she still feels grateful for it, even after twenty years.”
Charles grinned. “Do not tell him I said so, but he can be kind indeed. He was very patient with me when I was still learning my way around the various articles and clauses. I am sure he will be happy to call on Mrs Bowman. She seemed to have made quite an impression on him in former times. He told me she was the prettiest, liveliest young lady in Suffolk twenty years ago.”
Verity stopped in genuine astonishment. “Goodness. Did he really say that? I love Mama dearly myself, naturally, but I would never have described her as lively. And yet, I do not know... I remember when she used to tell us stories of gods and myths and so forth, the tales would come alive.”
Pretty and lively. Who would have thought it?
“Well,” she said decisively, “if that is the effect marriage and children have, I am more than ever determined to remain single.”
A conscience-stricken expression crossed Charles’s face. “I should not have said anything. You will ruin my professional reputation, Verity. You lull me into talking indiscreetly as if...” He paused.
“As if?”
“As if we were friends, not attorney and client.”
She gave a peal of laughter and tucked her hand into his arm again. “How foolish you are, Charles. How should we not be friends? It is by far the most comfortable way of going on.”
Lord above, how did she do this? Charles pressed his lips together, silently berating himself for forgetting who he was and who he was with. In general, he had no difficulty becoming Mr Congreve, attorney-at-law, during the day and Charles, youngest son of Anthony Congreve Esquire, whenever he was required for a family party. The rare occasions with friends when he was simply Charles were as jealously guarded as the railed gardens of London’s squares, but Verity seemed able to pick the locks simply by laying her hand upon the gate.