Northern Exposure - 73. Chapter 73

June 24, 1801

Portland Place

London, UK

“This is a most refreshing break in the day,” Daventry said, as he relaxed back into the soaking pool.

“I discovered the wonders of bathing in Antigua, and have integrated it into my life ever since,” Granger said, as he let the warm water soothe his frayed mind. “It is most enjoyable when I return from a voyage and my skin feels like it is saturated with salt.”

“I would think the fact that it makes you smell better is another benefit,” Daventry joked. Granger opted to splash him, and that started a water fight. A loud knock at the door finally ended that battle.

“Enter,” Granger said.

“I am wondering if I may join you gentlemen,” Cavendish said. He was already wearing a robe and was clearly ready to jump right in.

“It is a bit presumptuous to walk into a room naked and ask to bathe,” Daventry teased, making them all laugh.

“You are most welcome,” Granger said, to make sure Cavendish knew they were just joking with him. Cavendish opted to skip the cleansing pool and get into the soaking pool with them. He took off his wooden leg, then playfully jumped into the pool, splashing all of them.

“I heard rumors that you had a busy day,” Cavendish said.

“It turned out to be more eventful than I had planned,” Granger said.

“Your very public announcement that you and Caroline have separated has ripped through the ton at the speed of a Newmarket steed,” Cavendish said.

“I am glad I could interest those people,” Granger said with disdain, even though he was one of them, and even though his friends would fall into that social group as well. “I really felt that I had no choice.”

“Why is that?” Daventry asked.

“As you both noted, I knew that to take back control of my affairs I was going to have to have a pitched battle with Caroline,” Granger said. “I had labored over how to do that, and I felt as if I owed it to her to wait until she had returned before I acted.”

“That would have been very dangerous,” Cavendish said severely. “It would be like giving up a chance to rake an enemy frigate and instead pulling up broadside to broadside and fighting it out.”

“You would have given up the initiative,” Daventry reinforced, then saw that his friend was overcome with guilt. “George, this is not just about you; this is about your family. You really have no choice but to pull out all the stops and fight to win.”

Granger heard his words but did not acknowledge them. “When I met with the King, he was concerned about Lord Heathford’s title going to Alexander. The way the King approached me, I could tell that he was adamantly opposed to it. I agreed with him, quite frankly, and recognized a way to ease his burden while being the honorable one in this game.”

“So what did you do?” Cavendish asked.

“I formally renounced Alexander’s claim to be Viscount of Heathford,” Granger said. “The King tried to placate me by telling me that he would find some way to make it up to Alexander, but I am not overly worried about that.”

“George, your actions were a declaration of war; Caroline will never forgive you for surrendering that title,” Cavendish said. He felt Granger’s guilt so proceeded to prop him up. “You did the right thing, though. And besides, I am confident that Lord Crawden’s claim would have won in any court battle.”

“I cannot see how there could be a different outcome,” Daventry agreed, “and I am surprised that Caroline could not see that clearly.”

“As we have discussed, she has been totally focused on making sure that her father’s wishes were honored,” Cavendish noted. “I have not seen any rationality in her singular focus and drive to do that.”

“I realized that that was the opening salvo of my war. The King had made it quite clear that he was very unhappy with Caroline for being so stubborn in fighting Alexander’s case,” Granger said. “I told him that I had not seen her, and that she was at Heathford with Colonel Stewart.”

“He must have been most unhappy about that, too,” Daventry noted.

“He was, and was very supportive of my plight,” Granger said. “I asked him if he would do me a favor and banish Caroline from London, and he said he would ponder it.”

“I am not sure he can really do that these days,” Cavendish said.

“He does not have to physically restrict her,” Daventry observed. “If he issues a decree ordering her to stay away from London, then no one who has a reputation worth worrying about will be seen with her or receive her. It will have the same effect.”

“I returned home after that and discovered that many of my staff members were prepared to turn in their notices,” Granger said.

“Surely not,” Daventry said. “They are wholly devoted to you.”

“But not to Caroline,” Cavendish noted. “I did not realize it had gotten that bad.”

“Cheevers told me that Colonel Stewart had frequently spent the night here and it was obvious to the chambermaids that they had slept in the same bed,” Granger said bitterly. They all knew that meant that the sheets must have had cum stains on them. “They were also sequestered in the baths alone. And because they were not discreet, their extremely scandalous behavior became well known belowstairs. Of course, that bit of news has spread to other households, and now they are all but laughingstocks in the servant world.”

“While before, they had been proud to be in the service of Lord Granger, the sea hero as famous as Nelson and Pellew, now they were servants to Lady Granger who was acting like a whore,” Daventry summarized coldly.

Granger chose to ignore that Daventry had so erroneously placed him in a pantheon with Pellew and Nelson. “Exactly so.”

“So how did you handle that?” Cavendish asked.

“I had a meeting with the staff and apologized to them, and gave them each a guinea to buy their loyalty,” Granger said bitterly. His bitterness was not aimed at his staff, but at Caroline who had put him in this situation. “I gave orders that her things were to be packed up and sent over to Heathford House, and that she was not to be admitted here. I dispatched a courier to Brentwood directing Hudson to do the same.”

“She will most certainly not be happy about that,” Cavendish said, and so powerful was Caroline that he seemed a bit nervous about that.

“I thought when you got to Carlton House, Prinny was going to chew you up and spit you out,” Daventry said, then laughed. “I have never seen anyone handle a situation like that so flawlessly.”

“Indeed?” Cavendish asked.

“I see you have returned, Granger,” Daventry said, doing a fairly good impression of the Prince of Wales. “That would have floored most men.” Cavendish looked to Granger to explain what he had done.

“I observed that we were both in the same situation, with awful wives who blighted our lives. We bonded over that misfortune,” Granger said, making Cavendish and Daventry laugh.

Granger told Cavendish about Caroline’s note, after which he became pensive. “I am going to wager that her note to you was in response to the courier that was sent from Great Yarmouth.”

“Why is that?” Daventry asked.

“Because it is almost 200 miles to Heathford,” Cavendish noted. “It is near Sheffield, in Yorkshire.” Both Granger and Daventry knew exactly where Heathford was, so Cavendish was merely stating that to emphasize the distances.

“It would take a courier at least three days of fast riding to get from London to Heathford,” Granger mused.

“I would suspect that a messenger was sent to Caroline yesterday after the session in the Lords,” Cavendish continued. “There is no question one will be sent today after her possessions are delivered to Heathford House.”

“If she finds out about that by Monday, it will still take her five days of fast travel to get back to London,” Daventry calculated.

“She had planned to return by June 29^th, so she may have already left,” Granger observed.

“In any event, I don’t think that she will reappear in London before June 28^th, and I suspect it will be longer than that,” Cavendish speculated.

“I also asked for the children to be sent down from Brentwood,” Granger said. “I want them to be here, where I can be sure she does not have access to them.”

“You will ban her from seeing them?” Daventry asked, making Granger look callous.

“No, I will ensure she does not abduct them,” Granger responded. “I am not sure what else I need to do.”

“There are many things that you need to do,” Cavendish said, looking at Granger like he was an idiot. “You have only handled the political side of things, now you must work on the business and legal arrangements.”

“That cannot start until Monday,” Granger said. Bankers and the like certainly didn’t work over the weekend. “Tonight, I plan to go to the opera where the King will be in attendance, and tomorrow the King is supposed to attend services at St. Paul’s, so I will go there as well.”

“Going to the opera and to church hardly makes you appear to be a man of action,” Daventry teased, making them all laugh.

“Perhaps not, but over the next day or so, I must figure out how to restructure things so that my empire, such as it is, can continue to function in my absence,” Granger said.

“Let us hope that as an emperor you are more like Alexander than Paul,” Daventry joked, referring to the Russian Tsars.

“Have you thought about how you will manage things?” Cavendish asked.

“I have surmised that I will need someone to run my political minions, such as they are,” Granger said.

“I think you are understating that a bit,” Daventry objected. “Controlling several members of Parliament is no minor thing.”

Granger turned to Cavendish. “I would like you to handle that aspect for me. Caroline’s initial suggestion was that once we had agreed on a basic strategy, putting it into practice would be easy. While that hasn’t worked very well between her and me, I think it would be quite effective between the two of us.”

“I can see that,” Cavendish said. “That way you can remain aloof while I wallow around with the pigs in the sty.” They laughed at that.

“Are you willing to do that?” Granger asked.

“I am,” Cavendish vowed. They both knew that Granger would work out financial arrangements with him later.

“How is your relationship with your father?” Daventry asked. Cavendish got angry at that question, but soon quashed that emotion beneath his smooth veneer.

“Things are civil, no more, no less,” Cavendish replied.

Daventry seemed to understand that he’d offended the young man. “I did not mean to upset you with that inquiry; I was just concerned that the situation may place more stress on you.”

“Or perhaps you were worried that if he and I were on good terms, I would have a conflict over whose interests would be foremost on my mind: my father’s or George’s,” Cavendish said petulantly.

“That is not what I meant at all,” Daventry objected angrily.

“Gentlemen,” Granger said firmly, to calm them down. He said nothing, just stared at both of them.

“I am sorry,” Cavendish said. “I fear that talking about my father is a sore subject and I reacted badly.”

“You are forgiven,” Daventry said with a smile, then put his hand on Cavendish’s shoulder in a reassuring way. “It cannot be easy to be estranged from your father when that man is one of the most powerful in the realm.”

“He would think that, but as he ages, his power actually fades along with his health, a fact he is loath to acknowledge,” Cavendish said with no small amount of bitterness.

“I will also need someone to look after my financial arrangements,” Granger said, because it was true and because he needed to move them to another topic.

“I would be careful when working with bankers,” Daventry cautioned. “Where are your accounts?”

“Coutts,” Granger said. Both of them nodded, because that was the bank used by most of the aristocracy. “I am of a mind to draft Andrews to do that job.”

“You think a ship’s purser is adept enough to handle high finance in London?” Daventry asked, a little surprised.

“I think he is,” Granger said.

“I agree with you,” Cavendish said. “Andrews is very trustworthy, and as long as he has access to a limited amount of your money, he should be quite adept at making sure bills were paid and revenues were processed.”

“That was on my mind,” Granger said. “I have houses here, near Portsmouth, and in Brentwood, along with other holdings spread out mostly south of the Thames. I need someone to make sure those are administered properly. I plan to ask Broadhead to assume that role.”

“He appears to have done a good job with Brentwood,” Daventry said.

“He and I share a similar philosophy on how estates should be managed, and I have found him to be an excellent administrator,” Granger said.

“Then that would seem to be a good choice,” Cavendish agreed. “What happens when you are away?”

Granger looked at Daventry. “I plan to give you my proxy to vote for me in the Lords. If I am away, I would like it if you would assume overall responsibility for my massive empire.” He could sense Cavendish’s annoyance, but Granger didn’t trust him like he trusted Daventry.

“I am willing to be your proxy as long as you agree to be mine,” Daventry said. “I will also be the caretaker of your fiefdom.”

“Thank you,” Granger said, then turned to Cavendish. “It seems that when I am at sea, I am usually traveling with Daventry. In that case, I would like you to step in and manage my realm.” That seemed to placate Cavendish a bit. It was as if Granger had appointed Daventry as his first lieutenant, and Cavendish as his second lieutenant.

“I will be happy to fill in for Daventry, whether he is out of the country or busy whoring,” Cavendish joked. They laughed at Daventry’s nocturnal habits.

“And you have reminded me, in your own way, that I must get ready for my nighttime debauchery,” Daventry said. Granger and Cavendish watched Daventry exit the baths, trying not to ogle at his handsome form.

“Enjoy yourself,” Granger said, then focused on Cavendish. He was just about to coax him into a grand sexual extravaganza when there was a knock at the door to the baths. “Enter!”

Cheevers peeked in, looking very nervous. “I am sorry to bother you, my lord, but there is a Mr. Ebenezer Scruggs here to see you. He says it is most important.”

“I suspect he is correct,” Granger said. “Please alert him that I will be available within the hour, and see that he has something to drink. I would be obliged if you would arrange supper for both of us at that time.”

He climbed out of the bath, pausing to help Cavendish, while Cheevers stared at them. A glance from Granger caused him to realize he’d been caught, which flustered him considerably. “Of course, my lord,” Cheevers said, and hurried from the room.

“He was too busy lusting at you to think clearly,” Cavendish joked.

“Or perhaps he was lusting at you,” Granger suggested.

“That bears some consideration,” Cavendish said.

“I had different plans for how to end our bath, but Mr. Scruggs is Lady Kendal’s attorney, and has been most anxious to meet with me,” Granger said. “The poor man even sent me letters when I was in the Baltic in an attempt to track me down.”

“Then you must reward his perseverance,” Cavendish said, and gave Granger a quick but loving kiss.

Granger exited the bathing room, leaving Cavendish to finish drying off, and ascended the stairs to his bedroom where he found Winkler dutifully waiting for him. “There’s a man waiting for you, my lord.”

“So I’ve heard,” Granger said. “I suspect he is an old and fat attorney.”

“Then you will be most surprised to meet him,” Winkler said mysteriously. Rather than pelt him with questions, Granger focused on getting ready, putting on the clothes he would wear to the opera that night. “You look very good tonight, my lord,” Winkler said. He was wearing another one of his ensembles that had been left behind before he went to the Baltic and fancied this one looked better on him than the one he’d worn to the Lords.

“Thank you, Winkler,” Granger said, and patted his chief servant’s shoulder in an affectionate way. He descended the stairs and walked through the entry hall, where oddly enough there was a relatively beat up trunk. Granger shrugged and went into the drawing room, where he found himself face to face with a very handsome man. Scruggs was probably 6 feet in height, so just a bit taller than Granger, but his clothes hid a body that must be quite muscular. His shoulders were broad and his calves bulged in his stockings. He wore clothes that were plain, a simple black suit with white stockings and a white shirt, and if it weren’t for his magnificent body they would have looked dramatically unfashionable. “I am George, Viscount Granger,” he said, and extended his hand. The man even had large hands.

“Ebenezer Scruggs, my lord,” the man said nervously.

“Well Mr. Scruggs, you have arrived just in time to join me for supper,” Granger said, and led him into the dining room.

“I really don’t want to impose upon your lordship,” he said. Granger suddenly understood this man, or at least his nervousness. He was probably used to dealing with his aunt and others in the northern counties, while now that he was in London he was a bit intimidated.

“Nonsense,” Granger said, and gestured for him to take a seat. The staff had set the table for only two, so it was almost intimate. The footmen began serving food, but Granger spend most of his time studying Scruggs’s face. It was rounded, much like the rest of him, but with interesting features like dimples on his cheeks. His eyes were a beautiful light brown color, and his hair almost matched them. It was curly and unfashionably long. “I feel almost as if you have been stalking me through the Baltic,” Granger joked.

Scruggs laughed and it was almost stunning how handsome that made him. It was as if his entire body emitted warm energy. “I hope I didn’t seem harassing, my lord.” He took a bite of the entrée Lefavre had made and his eyes bulged. “This is fabulous!”

“My chef is renowned for his skill,” Granger said. “I found him stowed away on a captured French frigate during the occupation of Toulon and spirited him away with me.”

“I have followed your lordship’s adventures, at least to the degree that I could, since you were a lieutenant, so I remember your role in that affair,” Scruggs said with awe. Normally that would irritate Granger, who was naturally humble, but he was enjoying this man’s admiration.

“I am flattered that you are a fan,” Granger said, almost flirting, generating a considerable amount of charm. “Was that your chest in the foyer?”

“I am sorry, my lord,” he said, worried that he had offended Granger. “I had just got off the post-chaise and came directly here. I have not yet had an opportunity to engage lodgings.”

“That will not be necessary,” Granger said. He rang the bell on the table.

Cheevers arrived promptly. “My lord?” he asked.

“Mr. Scruggs is to be my guest while he is visiting London,” Granger announced. “I would be obliged if you would have his trunk hauled up to one of the guest rooms. Perhaps you can put him in Lady Granger’s former room? I would also appreciate it if you would pass the word for Winkler.”

“I will attend to that at once, my lord,” Cheevers said.

“Thank you for your hospitality, my lord,” Scruggs said.

“It is my pleasure,” Granger said. Winkler appeared immediately after that interchange.

“My lord?” Winkler asked.

“Winkler, this is Mr. Scruggs,” Granger said, and introduced them. “Mr. Scruggs will be staying with us while he is in London. His trunk was just sent up to the room adjacent to mine. I would be obliged if you would unpack it and see if you can put together suitable clothes for the opera.”

“The opera?” Scruggs asked, his eyes bulging.

Granger ignored him. “I suspect he won’t have time for a bath, so that will have to wait. Perhaps you can help him with his hair after supper?”

“I’ll see what I can put together, then I will help Mr. Scruggs when supper is over, my lord,” Winkler said.

“Excellent,” Granger said, then turned back to Scruggs. “Have you ever been to the opera?”

“I have not, my lord,” he said, as if that was a foregone conclusion for a country bumpkin attorney.

“We will see if you like it,” Granger said with a grin.

“I suspect Winkler will be hard pressed to pull together something suitable for me to wear, my lord,” he said.

“I would caution you not to underestimate him,” Granger said. “As you have finally tracked me down, I am most interested to hear what you needed to talk to me about so urgently.”

“Of course, my lord,” he said. “Lady Kendal left two wills. I was to first ascertain your attitudes towards those of the Catholic faith. If you are tolerant of Papists, I am to use one will. If you are not, I am to use the other one.”

“I suspect that my late aunt is worried that I will be like my brother, who is a high Tory,” Granger said in annoyance. “I am also assuming her concern came from my wife’s decision to placate the Duke of Cumberland and evict four Catholic tenant families.”

“Your assumptions are correct, my lord,” Scruggs said.

“Your timing is auspicious,” Granger said. “Just this morning I met with the King and had a chance to speak to the Duke of Cumberland. With some pressure from his father, the Duke agreed to my request to let my Catholic tenants stay at Brentwood. I do not interfere with those on my estates who want to worship in a way other than through the established church. I think it is inappropriate to dictate to a man how he will worship his God.”

Scruggs smiled. “That is a very enlightened view, my lord.”

“Rather, I think it is the rational approach,” Granger countered.

“My lord, Lady Kendal was concerned lest her estate fall into the hands of someone who would run her Catholic tenants off her land. She cared deeply for them, as her staff and tenants were her entire world,” Scruggs said earnestly.

“That is most refreshing,” Granger said. “My father-in-law treated his people horribly. When I acquired Brentwood as part of my wife’s dowry, we had to spend a considerable amount of money ensuring that the people there had adequate housing, so dilapidated were the buildings he called cottages.”

“Lady Kendal was aware of that, my lord, and was worried that your wife shared her father’s approach,” Scruggs said. “She felt fairly confident about you, and about how you treat your tenants, but your wife caused her considerable apprehension.”

“There are two things you should know,” Granger said. “First, my wife’s views on taking care of our people largely mirror my own. It was with real anguish that she agreed to evict those Catholic families from Brentwood.”

“Yet you are the one who fought so they could stay there, my lord,” Scruggs said.

“Yes,” Granger said, because his point was not to aggrandize himself but to reassure Scruggs that Caroline was not an ogre. “The other factor in this is that Lady Granger and I are separated.”

“I am sorry, my lord,” Scruggs said earnestly.

“As am I, Mr. Scruggs, but it is a decision I had to make for the good of my family,” Granger said. “Are you married?”

“I am not, my lord,” he said. “I am quite content without a partner, at least at this point, while I fear that my income would not support such an arrangement.” That was the plight of many young men, in that even if they wanted to marry, unless they found a wealthy bride, they had to wait until they had accumulated enough wealth and income to wed.

“So we are two single men, about to hit the town,” Granger joked. “Let me show you up to your room, where I will leave you in Winkler’s capable hands.”

“Thank you, my lord,” he said.

Granger waited impatiently for Scruggs’s makeover. He found himself pacing back and forth in his library, much as if he were on a quarterdeck. He ruminated over the arrangements he was making, in picking Cavendish, Andrews, and Broadhead as his lieutenants, and found he was quite pleased with his decisions. He was so absorbed in his thoughts he was surprised when Winkler spoke. “My lord, Mr. Scruggs is ready.”

Granger looked up and stared at Scruggs, stunned at what Winkler had accomplished. He was wearing a jacket that fit him relatively well, and must have been his own, but the rest of his outfit, including breeches, stockings, and shirt, must have come from Granger’s closet. Winkler had trimmed Scruggs’s hair back significantly, and while that had removed most of the curls, it had left it wavy, in a pattern that was not just attractive, it was interesting. He glanced at Scruggs’s shoes and decided those must be Granger’s as well, but to all appearances they seemed to fit him well enough. “Mr. Scruggs, you look very good,” Granger said.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said with a grin, then gave Granger a courtly bow, one that was hopelessly bad. “It was all Winkler.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but an artist can only create good works if he has an excellent canvas to paint on,” Winkler said.

“Thank you, Winkler,” Granger said, dismissing his able steward. “Before we leave, let me help you refine your bow.”

“It was not good, my lord?” he asked sadly.

“It was not,” Granger said, then smiled. “But it will be.” Granger spent the next 10 minutes teaching Scruggs the basics of social gestures, then pronounced them ready to go. They climbed into the carriage, with Scruggs ogling the beautiful interior and comfortable leather seats.

“This is a far cry from the post-chaise, my lord,” Scruggs said, making Granger laugh.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” Granger said. “I am impressed with how quickly you learned to bow and to present yourself. You may find it useful when you see the King.”

“His Majesty?” Scruggs asked, and looked both awed and terrified. So stunned was he that he forgot the honorific ‘my lord’ at the end of his sentence.

“He greatly enjoys the opera,” Granger said. “Just remember not to crack stupid jokes to him, or to try to seduce his daughters.”

Scruggs laughed. “That will be easy enough to do, my lord.” There was a twinkle in his eye, making Granger wonder if his lack of female companionship was significant.