The four of them sat at the best table in the Tamara. Clarence, Marina, William, and James had arrived together at five-thirty to partake of a special supper to celebrate James’s eighteenth birthday.
His birthday was actually on Sunday, May 27, three days away, and he would be spending it in London with the Falconer clan, as he called them. He was excited about the trip home.
But the Venableses were family, too. They had wanted to do something memorable for this unique young man who had proved so loyal and hardworking since his arrival seven months ago.
Clarence and William had thought Marina’s idea of a supper was splendid. William had suggested they also buy him a gift which would convey their appreciation. After much discussion, they had agreed to give him a pair of gold cufflinks, perfect for a young man of style and elegance as he was.
They were gratified by the look of pleasure on his face when he opened the gift-wrapped package and saw the cufflinks. He was obviously thrilled to receive such a handsome gift, which they had given to him before leaving for the restaurant. Marina had suggested he exchange them for the ones he was wearing, and he had been happy to do so.
Clarence was a jolly and hospitable host, and he insisted on ordering a bottle of champagne and some caviar when they first arrived at the Tamara so that they could toast James in the best way. After this Clarence and Marina settled down to enjoy the spirited atmosphere, the cheery sound of laughter and enjoyment, and the unusual mixture of people. In many ways, it was a revelation to them.
When James saw the trio entering the room and going over to their designated corner spot, he was immediately excited, and exclaimed, “Aunt Marina, you love music, so do pay attention to the balalaika, that odd-looking instrument. It sounds like a mandolin. I love it.”
Marina smiled and nodded, and then glanced at William. “What dishes do you recommend? I know it’s your favorite place.”
“It is, and James’s, too. He likes the borscht, the beetroot soup. But there’re a number of local dishes as well. Let’s ask for menus.”
These were brought to them at once. After studying his, Clarence said, “I’ve decided to have the soup James enjoys and the chicken you recommend, William.”
Marina discussed certain dishes with James, taking her time, and eventually they had all chosen and ordered. They sat back to relax and finish the champagne. Clarence studied the wine list, focusing on red.
At one moment, Marina said to James and William, “I’m glad Mrs. Ward wrote notes to you both before she left last week. I know she was very appreciative that you had gone to explain things to her. She’s such a nice woman, and I certainly hope her sister Deanna is better soon.”
Clarence nodded. “I thought it was kind of her to invite us to join her in her brother-in-law’s box at Ascot. I’m rather regretful we weren’t able to accept.”
“She wants us to call on her when we are next in London,” Marina remarked. “She has a lovely house in Mayfair. I said we would let her know in advance when we were planning to go up to town.”
It was William who now asked, “What plans have your family made for your birthday, James? I’m sure it’s something special.”
James began to laugh. “They haven’t told me anything and I know they won’t. Rossi and Eddie wrote and told me it’s something special but a huge secret. I’ll have to wait and see.”
At this moment, the waiter arrived with bowls of borscht, which they had all ordered, and conversation came to an end as they lifted their spoons and dipped them into the beet soup topped with large dollops of thick cream.
“We’re not being very adventurous, are we, Clarence?” Marina murmured when their second course was served. “Everyone’s selected chicken Kiev.”
* * *
Much later that night, sitting at the desk in his bedroom, James thought about the evening he had just spent with the Venableses. He had enjoyed it, as they had, and he was touched by their kindness and generosity to him.
It was a relief to see his aunt smiling again, and Clarence now in a better mood. Ever since the revelation about Albert’s vile stories, his uncle had been upset and angry. Now that he had solved the problem he had become more like himself.
What a joy it had been not to hear Albert’s name mentioned tonight. Nor had it been mentioned for several days. Thanks to advice from Clarence’s solicitor, Ian MacDonald, that very clever Scotsman, the Albert problem had gone away.
Now, James couldn’t help thinking, but for how long? Certainly several months. He hoped it would be for longer, because in November he would be returning to London permanently. His year in Hull would come to an end.
A knowing smile flickered on James’s face when he thought of Albert’s current fate. Clarence had decided to send him to Scotland, on the advice of Ian. He was to visit the various whisky companies, with the idea of Uncle Clarence exporting Scotch to the Baltic countries.
Clarence had confided that it would take quite a few months to do this, and that Albert was going to be dealing with a lot of tough, very canny Scotsmen who would easily make mincemeat of him if he stepped out of line. That day in Clarence’s office, James had grinned. The memory was stuck in his head.
“Och aye, they will indeed,” Ian MacDonald had volunteered, a sudden grin on his face. “Tough buggers at the best of times, but they have been forewarned to give Mr. Albert Venables an extremely hard time.”
Clarence had also laughed then. And James had asked, “Then what? After his Scottish Highland fling? Are you really going to export whisky?”
“I don’t know. I just needed to get Albert out of the way before I strangled him for his stupidity and villainous ways.”
“Perhaps he’ll drown in a vat of whisky. That would solve everything,” James said, adding, “Just like the Duke of Clarence did and so obliged Edward the Fourth. But the duke drowned in a vat of wine.”
“Ah, no such luck,” Clarence had muttered.
The scene in his head, enacted days ago, faded away, but his mind was still filled with a myriad of thoughts. His eye caught the glitter of gold against the mahogany wood of the desk. He picked up a cufflink, examined it. A perfect plain oval, but beautifully made and solid gold. He would treasure the gift always …
Unexpectedly, thoughts of the envelope slid into his head. He opened the middle drawer of his desk and took it out. Inside the envelope was the note from Mrs. Ward. William had received one and had assumed James’s note was the same thank-you note. But it wasn’t. James believed his was different.
Taking the piece of embossed writing paper out of the envelope, he read the note for the umpteenth time.
My dear James:
I want to thank you for being so thoughtful to come and see me to inform me about those false stories. I am glad you brought William with you to give support. I have also written a thank-you note to him.
Your advice has been invaluable to me, over these last few weeks, especially, and has helped me to feel much better in so many different ways. On another matter, I must add that I will never forget the night of the storm. You rescued me and little Polka, and gave me such amazing care as the weather worsened. Please believe me, I shall never forget what you did for me.
When you return to live in London perhaps you would like to come and see me so that I can thank you properly in person.
I wish you luck in your future endeavours.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Georgiana Ward
From the first moment he had read the letter, he had understood that anyone would think it was a normal thank-you note. Only he saw the innuendo and read between the lines. She was referring to their lovemaking. How clever she was. She was also indicating she wanted to continue the relationship, no question about that. But did he?
He glanced at the top of the page where her address was embossed in violet blue. He knew where she lived. She had already given him her address weeks before, making no secret of the fact that she was enamoured of him.
Placing the letter in the envelope, he put it back in the drawer. He stood up, walked over to the window, looking out at the sea.
That was one thing he was going to miss … the North Sea. How much would he miss her? This woman of the storm? He did not know, and he was not sure whether it was wise to see her again.
When Aunt Marina had discussed the rumors about them, asked if they were involved, his upbringing had instantly kicked in. He had lied to protect her honor and her reputation, as any gentleman would. Certainly a gentleman did not kiss and tell.
That code of honor had been instilled in him by his grandmother since he was a child … it was as if she had somehow injected it into his bones. Esther Falconer had made him who and what he was, and therefore he knew no other way to behave, no other way to live.