Northern Exposure - 77. Chapter 77

June 27, 1801

Chesterfield Street

London

Granger’s carriage stopped smartly in front of Beau Brummel’s home, the second time it had been there that morning. The first occurrence was to drop Daventry off, and now this second appearance was to deliver Granger to this address. Granger was not surprised to see a considerable number of people there, as attending Brummell’s ‘levee’ was almost as popular as attending that of the Prince of Wales.

Granger alit from the vehicle and walked confidently, followed by a more reluctant Winkler, up the stairs to the door, where a footman appeared and ushered them in. Granger received stunned stares from all those assembled, but he had expected that. He had worn one of the most hideous outfits he’d acquired in Russia and must have looked to the assembled men as if he had walked straight out of the 1780s. Granger strode up to Brummell’s butler. “I am George Viscount Granger, and I am here to see Mr. Brummell.”

“Mr. Brummell is currently preparing his toilet, my lord, and is not expecting you,” the butler said. His dismissive nature would have been insulting if Granger had not looked so ridiculous. He reminded himself that all of the men sitting here in the drawing room were those who were not influential enough to be invited upstairs, and it was this man’s job to see that only those who were important enough were allowed that privilege. Still, as a peer of the realm, and a person who was normally known to be quite fashionable, Granger was unwilling to be delayed by a butler.

“You will inform Mr. Brummell that Lord Granger is here to see him,” Granger said firmly. “I am confident that he will receive me.”

The butler gave him an annoyed look, but tacitly agreed to Granger’s demand by sending the footman up the stairs. The footman returned shortly and whispered imperceptibly into the butler’s ear. “This way, my lord,” the butler said.

Granger and Winkler followed him up the stairs but were forced to move aside for Robinson, Brummell’s valet, who was carrying a number of linen squares that were considerably mangled. They were clearly the pieces Brummell used to craft his cravat. No one tied a cravat as perfectly and elegantly as Brummell. “Good morning, Robinson,” Granger said cheerfully.

“Good morning, my lord,” he said, and eyed Granger with surprise, clearly shocked by his attire.

“That is quite a bit of linen,” Granger observed.

“These, my lord, are our failures,” Robinson said, making Granger chuckle.

“Perhaps you can keep Robinson company,” Granger suggested to Winkler. They both looked at him dubiously, while Granger ignored them and proceeded up to Brummell’s room “Lord Granger,” the butler announced.

All eyes turned to Granger and conversation completely stopped. “Good God, Granger!” Brummell exclaimed. “What happened to you?” He stood up and walked up to Granger, shaking his head in disdain. Granger was wearing a jacket made from textured blue silk, one that was cut uniformly long, as opposed to shorter in front and longer in back which was the current fashion. Underneath the coat Granger wore a waistcoat and breeches that matched, both made from silk in a lavender floral pattern. With them, he wore standard stockings and shoes and sported a large wig that flowed down below his shoulders. In addition to his appearance, Granger had added copious amounts of perfume to give a scented dimension to his ensemble. Brummell, on the other hand, wore a simple dark blue jacket that was perfectly tailored, along with tan trousers that fit into black Hessian boots. His hair was cut fashionably short and he wore no scent. For those who were historically minded, it was an amazing demonstration of the differences between a fop and a dandy.

“I have come to ask you for an enormous favor,” Granger said, bowing gracefully.

“Indeed?”

“I have spent the past months in Russia, compelled to wear clothes such as these.”

“It would appear that the Russians believe in torturing their aristocrats,” Brummell said as he shook his head. “And what is this favor that you need from me?”

“I would ask you to have mercy on me in my unfashionable garments and allow me to go shopping with you,” Granger said.

“The Beau shops with no one,” Brummell stated. Granger was not about to let his firm rejection thwart him.

“I am hoping that, seeing the sheer torture and humiliation I have been made to bear, you will make an exception in my case,” Granger said. Their eyes met, and Granger could see Brummell’s twinkling, remembering their encounter a few years ago in his baths. He raised his eyebrows in a slightly suggestive way, one that only Brummell would be able to discern.

“If I make an exception for your lordship, then surely I will be accosted by others and will acquire a bevy of unwanted shopping companions,” Brummell sniffed.

“I would submit, sir, that if those men who are your friends are condemned to endure a fashion disaster such as this, it is your Christian duty to help them find a better path,” Granger said. “As the number of friends you actually have is unclear, I would think the chances of those that do exist ending up at the mercy of some Oriental potentate are remote.”

Brummell laughed at that, as did everyone else in the room. “You are charming and handsome, and it will give me great pleasure to help you repair your appearance,” he concluded. Granger smirked at Daventry, who frowned in return.

Brummell finished getting ready while Granger enjoyed the witty conversations that flowed around him. With Brummell’s appearance duly burnished, the assembled admirers began to disperse. “That was quite the show you put on to win 20 guineas,” Daventry said dourly, as he made to leave the room.

“You are the one who underestimated me,” Granger said, with a cheeky smile.

“A mistake I shall endeavor to not make again,” he grumbled.

Brummell went downstairs to show himself to those who were unfortunate enough not to be allowed upstairs, while Winkler appeared to help him get rid of his awful jacket and wig. He would have to retain the rest of his hideous ensemble for the duration of their shopping spree. With that completed, Granger joined Brummell downstairs and they departed, taking Granger’s carriage. Winkler and Robinson sat across from them, facing the rear of the carriage. “You certainly are persuasive, my lord,” Brummell said, then sniffed in annoyance. “I think you could have achieved your goal without so much perfume.”

“I did not want to leave anything to chance, since there were 20 guineas on the line,” Granger said. Brummell looked at him curiously. “I bet Daventry and Cavendish 10 guineas each that I could convince you to take me shopping with you.” Brummell laughed riotously, joined a little less robustly by their valets.

Their ribaldry was cut short when they arrived at their first stop. Schweitzer and Davidson Tailors were located on Cork Street, between Bond Street and Savile Row. This was the shop to go to for coats and jackets, and Granger got most of his non-uniform jackets there. Schweitzer was famous for the cut of his coats, while Davidson was an expert at fitting. Davidson supposedly made a small fortune simply from the alterations on the jackets made for the Prince of Wales.

“Welcome, my lord, Mr. Brummell,” Schweitzer said. His professional sartorial eyes recoiled at the sight of Granger’s garb.

“Lord Granger has been languishing in Russia under the care of substandard Oriental tailors, and needs your assistance,” Brummell said.

“Indeed, sir, this much is obvious,” Schweitzer said. They spent a great deal of time looking at different fabrics. Brummell was quite conventional, in that he focused solely on dark blue jackets. Granger opted for a few jackets that were the same color as Brummell’s but then allowed himself some variation by also picking a blue fabric that had a more purplish hue.

“A bit of red in that one, my lord,” Brummell said, with mild disapproval.

“You are correct, sir, but it is quite close to Bridgemont blue, so I am allowing my ancestry to cloud my decision,” Granger said.

Brummell nodded, then they focused on general fitting. “Davidson, make sure you use some of your new-fangled darts on Lord Granger’s jackets,” Brummell instructed.

“Darts?” Granger asked curiously.

“They are seams inserted in a coat to improve the fit, my lord,” Davidson said, then showed Granger a sample of one. Winkler was engrossed in the device.

They finally finished their jacket shopping, but before they left the shop, Granger spoke to Davidson. “Please put all of the items we bought today on my bill.”

“Of course, my lord,” Davidson said.

They re-boarded Granger’s carriage for the brief ride to their next stop. “You do not have to finance my wardrobe, Granger,” Brummell said, mildly annoyed.

“I felt that you should also benefit from my gambling victory,” Granger said, getting a slight chuckle from the Beau.

“It is also rumored that your lordship adeptly maneuvered your brother and father out of Lady Kendal’s estate, and as a result, you are now richer than God,” he joked. Something such as an inheritance on that scale was bound to rip through the ton like a wildfire, so Granger was not surprised the Beau would know about it.

“I am not sure that is entirely true, but it’s close enough as to make no difference,” Granger said, adopting a waspish tone.

The carriage pulled up to John Weston’s at 34 Old Bond Street. This was the place to get waistcoats, breeches, and shirts. After that, a short jaunt north to Conduit Street brought them to Jonathan Meyer’s, the tailor who crafted Granger’s uniforms, for the sole purpose of allowing him to complete a final fitting for his new dress uniform. Granger tried it on, and thought it was fine, but a disapproving look from Brummell told him it probably wasn’t good enough. Granger was about to insist that Meyer adjust the fit, but Brummell’s words cut short that plan. “We have one more errand to run, when your lordship is finished,” Brummell said.

Granger took the uniform and thanked Meyer, then followed Brummell back to the carriage. “One more errand?” Granger asked.

“Back to Schweitzer and Davidson,” Brummell told the coachman. The coachman looked briefly at Granger, who gave him a subtle nod of approval.

“And why are we going back there?” Granger asked, once they were in the carriage.

“Davidson will have to alter your uniform,” Brummell pronounced. “Meyer cannot fit you well enough for tomorrow.”

“For tomorrow?” Granger asked.

“For His Majesty’s levee,” Brummell said, and gave Granger an odd look, because it was vital that Granger attend this first levee after his return.

“Of course,” Granger said.

Davidson was very polite and pleasant, but it was easy to discern that he was none-to-happy about working on Granger’s uniform, since the labor would probably take him well into the night. “I would be obliged if your lordship would call on me tomorrow at nine in the morning,” Davidson said.

“I will be happy to do that, Mr. Davidson, and I must thank you profusely for your assistance,” Granger said, then handed the man a guinea. “I know that you will have to toil into the night to finish the job, so please at least enjoy a good supper at my expense.”

“Your lordship is too kind,” Davidson said, with a much better attitude.

They returned to Brummell’s house and he invited Granger to join him for some refreshments. “Let us repair to my bedroom so we do not inconvenience Robinson.”

“My pleasure,” Granger said. As soon as they were through the door, Brummel shut it behind them and pressed himself up against Granger.

“I think you should show me your gratitude for the 20 guineas that I made you,” he said huskily, even as he pressed his hardening cock against Granger’s responding member.

“I would be happy to settle my debts,” Granger said. Their lips met, but Brummell wasn’t there for a romantic interlude; he wanted a fuck. He broke off their embrace, spun Granger around, and embedded himself in Granger’s ass. The walls were certainly not soundproof, and there were servants in the next room, so they were quiet, or at least as quiet as they could be. Granger found that he had to stuff one of his sleeves into his mouth to stifle his moans. When they were done, they quickly pulled their appearances together.

“I must thank you for a most enjoyable afternoon,” Brummell said formally.

“And I must thank you for all of your exertions on my behalf,” Granger said, much more playfully, then winked at Brummell as he left.

June 28, 1801

St. James’s Palace

Granger stood next to Daventry and Cavendish in the King’s Presence Chamber, smiling and nodding at the other courtiers. They had been chatting, but the King was due to make his entrance, so everyone stood in reverent silence, or something close to that. Granger admired the men around him, for women were not permitted at levees. There were the blue and red uniforms of the navy and the army, along with a wide variety in the clothes of the rest. Everyone was required to wear court dress, which for Granger meant his uniform, the one Davidson had dutifully fitted for him that morning. In the strange way that their minds connected, Daventry must have sensed Granger’s focus on his own appearance. “Your uniform fits better than those of any of the other officers here,” Daventry said sotto voce. “The admirals will hate you now.”

“Most of them are too portly to benefit from good tailoring,” Granger whispered back, forcing Daventry to strain so as not to chuckle out loud. Daventry looked stunningly handsome, wearing an outfit styled of black with gold lace, with only his white shirt and stockings defying that color scheme. Cavendish looked incredibly fashionable, with a dark blue jacket and tan breeches; it was as if he had gone shopping with Brummell yesterday, and not Granger.

“Your father and brother are keeping their distance,” Daventry noted, since they were both on the other side of the room. “They are probably too embarrassed to approach you.”

“I have greeted both of them formally, so I doubt that is the case,” Granger said. As he’d expected, everyone was quite civil.

“They’re not embarrassed; they’re afraid of him,” Cavendish said. “The last thing they want is to face the King before or after he speaks to George.” There was some activity near the doorway which interrupted their gossip.

“It is almost time,” Daventry noted unnecessarily.

The room was tall, with tall windows, and dominated by a throne at one end. The throne was offset by a background tapestry of red which was rather plain, while the tapestries in the rest of the chamber were quite beautiful. They had been crafted under the Stuarts, then had been stored away and only recently rediscovered. “The King,” Cavendish said quietly but urgently, directing their attention to the doorway.

The men bowed to the King almost in unison as he entered the room, then formed a circle along the edges of the room. The King began his procession, stopping to say a few words to everyone. He had gotten through almost half the assembled men when he arrived at their group. “I missed you at the Palace yesterday, what what,” the King said to Cavendish.

“I must beg Your Majesty’s pardon,” Cavendish said with a courtly bow. “I was attending to Your Majesty’s affairs.”

The King ignored his response and focused on Granger. It was flattering to see how the King’s mood suddenly perked up. “I think that your Lordship’s uniform is the most well-crafted in the room.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Granger said, smiling at his Sovereign. It was unusual for the King to notice any kind of fashion unless it offended him. “It cost me a number of bribes to have it ready for Your Majesty’s levee.”

“Lady Kendal made sure you could afford it,” the King said, getting slight chuckles in response. He quickly moved on to address Daventry. “Good to see you back, Daventry, even if you are dressed like a vulture, what what.”

“Your Majesty, I fear that pride in my family has condemned me to wear the colors of a mortician,” Daventry said smoothly. The King chuckled, then went on to the next person. It took quite a while for the King to finish greeting everyone, and he seemed quite relieved when he was finally able to sit on his throne. Everyone was preparing to mingle and gossip when he summoned the Lord Chamberlain, Lord Salisbury, who then spoke to a very tall chamberlain.

“Lord Granger, His Majesty commands you to approach the throne,” the tall chamberlain announced. His deep voice was as imposing as his height, resonating through the room.

Granger was surprised by that, because while he had been summoned to attend the Privy Council meeting, he had not been ordered to the levee. He did not know there was some event planned for him here. He looked curiously at Daventry and Cavendish, then gave them both a subtle nod, such that they followed him toward the throne. He saw his father approach as well, and Granger smiled briefly at him to thank him for his support. Granger bowed to the King, then assumed a respectful pose. “We are very pleased with your performance on your mission to the northern countries, and of the way you have conducted your affairs during that mission and after your return,” the King said. That last phrase could only be construed as a denouncement of Caroline. She would be horrified; Granger was thrilled.

“Your Majesty is too kind,” Granger said, bowing again.

The King nodded to the tall chamberlain, who pulled out a parchment scroll and began to read. “We, George the Third, by the Grace of God King of Britain, France, and Ireland, and of Our other Realms and Territories; Defender of the Faith to all Lords Spiritual and Temporal and all of Our other subjects whatsoever, hereby recognize the achievements of to whom these Presents shall come; know ye that We of Our especial grace, certain knowledge, and mere motion do by these Presents advance, create, and prefer our most loyal servant, the Right Honorable George, Viscount Granger, Baron of Ryde, Knight of the Bath, to the state, degree, style, dignity, title, and honor of the Earl of Brentwood, in Essex. And for Us, Our heirs, and successors do appoint, give, and grant unto him the said name, state, degree, style, dignity, title, and honor of Earl to have and to hold unto him and the heirs male of his body, lawfully begotten and to be begotten. Willing, and by these Presents granting, for Us, Our heirs, and successors that he and his heirs male aforesaid, and every of them successively, may have, hold, and possess a seat, place, and voice in the Parliaments and Public Assemblies and Councils of Us, Our heirs, and successors within Our Realm amongst the Earls. And also that he and his heirs male aforesaid successively may enjoy and use all the rights, privileges, pre-eminences, immunities, and advantages to the degree of an Earl, duly and of right belonging which Earls of Our Realm have heretofore used and enjoyed, or as they do at present use and enjoy.”

“I do not know how to thank Your Majesty for such an honor,” Granger said. He had been expecting this, so he was not stunned, but he was awed by it. The King merely smiled and nodded, Granger’s clue to back away from the throne.

“I am very proud of you, George,” his father said, and clasped his hands warmly. Their eyes met, identical steely blue orbs, on the part of the Duke of Suffolk communicating an unspoken apology and receiving a correspondingly silent forgiveness from his son, the newly minted Earl of Brentwood.

“Thank you, father,” Granger said. Their hands separated, and Granger turned to Daventry, looking a bit concerned that he would be jealous, but of course Daventry read his mind and rolled his eyes. Their relationship was beyond petty jealousy. He thoroughly enjoyed basking in the congratulations of Daventry and Cavendish, and then of others who were his friends, most especially Lord Spencer.

“You may now sit in my row in the Lords,” Spencer joked.

“It is a dubious honor,” Granger teased back.

Before they could engage in further conversation, the chamberlain’s voice boomed again. “His Majesty commands Lord Daventry to approach the throne!”

Granger smiled broadly and automatically took his place at Daventry’s right side, just as his friend had done for him. They bowed to the King, with Daventry standing just as Granger had stood not a quarter of an hour before. “Lord Daventry, you have been tasked with difficult diplomatic missions on behalf of my government, and you have been successful in achieving your goals in all of them, but your performance on your mission to St. Petersburg was exemplary and has transformed our relationship with His Imperial Majesty.”

“I cannot express to Your Majesty how much Your Majesty’s words mean to me,” Daventry said.

The King nodded to the chamberlain, who pulled out another parchment scroll and began to read. “We, George the Third, by the Grace of God King of Britain, France, and Ireland, and of Our other Realms and Territories; Defender of the Faith To all Lords Spiritual and Temporal and all of Our other subjects whatsoever, hereby recognize the achievements of to whom these Presents shall come; know ye that We of Our especial grace, certain knowledge, and mere motion do by these Presents advance, create, and prefer our most loyal servant, the Right Honorable Charles, Viscount Daventry, Baron of Astley, to the state, degree, style, dignity, title, and honor of the Earl of Rugby, in Warwickshire, along with the estate entailed to said title. And for Us, Our heirs, and successors do appoint, give, and grant unto him the said name, state, degree, style, dignity, title, and honor of Earl to have and to hold unto him and the heirs male of his body, lawfully begotten and to be begotten. Willing, and by these Presents granting, for Us, Our heirs, and successors that he and his heirs male aforesaid, and every of them successively, may have, hold, and possess a seat, place, and voice in the Parliaments and Public Assemblies and Councils of Us, Our heirs, and successors within Our Realm amongst the Earls. And also that he and his heirs male aforesaid successively may enjoy and use all the rights, privileges, pre-eminences, immunities, and advantages to the degree of an Earl, duly and of right belonging which Earls of Our Realm have heretofore used and enjoyed, or as they do at present use and enjoy.”

“Your Majesty, I am overwhelmed, so much so that I am at a loss for words,” Daventry said. He bowed and they were about to back away from the throne, but the King had not given an indication that they had been dismissed, so they remained standing there somewhat in limbo. Instead, three men approached the king, one of them carrying a stool. Granger smiled more broadly now, recognizing that it was a knighting stool, and remembered his own initiation into a chivalric order after he had captured the Oran Ruby. Daventry stared placidly as the man placed the stool in front of him. The Lord Chamberlain was next to the King now, while the other man stood on his other side. “Kneel, sir,” the Lord Chamberlain commanded. Daventry knelt on the stool as ordered.

The other man handed the King a large sword. The King took a deep breath, and then spoke loudly. “Charles Daventry, Earl of Rugby, Viscount Daventry, Baron of Astley, in recognition of your many achievements and services to our realm, I hereby dub you a Knight of the Bath.” Granger watched as the massive sword landed gently on each of Daventry’s shoulders.

Much as had happened to Granger, there was a ceremony in which oaths were sworn, then the star was pinned on Daventry’s coat and the red ribbon of the Bath was draped across his chest. Granger thought the red contrasted quite nicely with Daventry’s black jacket. The Archbishop of Canterbury was on hand to lead them in a lengthy and deadly dull series of prayers, and that gave Granger time to mull over these honors that the King, in conjunction with the government, had bestowed on them.

It was interesting how they’d parsed the awards out to Granger and Daventry. They’d given Daventry the Earldom of Rugby, and the award had specified there was an estate attached to it, although Granger had no idea how valuable that was. They’d also made Daventry a Knight of the Bath. As Granger had been forewarned, they’d clearly styled Daventry as the main architect of their success in Russia and awarded him with more honors. Granger had no problem with that at all; he was merely happy for his friend. At the same time, Granger had been awarded his earldom first, and that meant that he would always have precedence over Daventry. It really was an amazingly balanced way to deal with both of them.

Granger heard the Archbishop finally stop droning on, and with the end of his prayers the ceremony was finally over. The King rose and headed out of the Presence Chamber and into the Privy Council room, followed by the Privy Councilors. The assembled courtiers began to disperse, leaving Granger and Daventry standing in the middle of the room, seemingly at a loss on how to proceed. They were saved, unsurprisingly, by Lord Salisbury. “My lords, you will please follow me,” he ordered.

“Of course,” Daventry replied. Granger and Daventry strolled after him as he led them into the Privy Council chamber. The other men had already taken their places, so the two newly minted earls were once more the center of attention.

“His Majesty has seen fit to add Your Lordships to His Majesty’s Privy Council,” Salisbury announced. Granger and Daventry looked at each other, quite shocked by that revelation. They had been expecting they’d be summoned to discuss their recent mission, not asked to join this council, which consisted of the greatest and most powerful men in the realm.

“We are both honored and humbled, Your Majesty,” Granger said.

Salisbury pulled out yet another parchment paper and began to read. “Lord Granger and Lord Daventry, you do swear by Almighty God to be a true and faithful Servant unto The King’s Majesty as one of His Majesty’s Privy Council. You will not know or understand of any manner of thing to be attempted, done or spoken against His Majesty’s Person, Honour, Crown or Dignity Royal, but you will let and withstand the same to the uttermost of your power, and either cause it to be revealed to His Majesty Himself, or to such of His Privy Council as shall advise His Majesty of the same. You will in all things to be moved, treated and debated in Council, faithfully and truly declare your Mind and Opinion, according to your Heart and Conscience; and will keep secret all matters committed and revealed unto you, or that shall be treated of secretly in Council. And if any of the said Treaties or Counsels shall touch any of the Counsellors you will not reveal it unto them but will keep the same until such time as, by the consent of His Majesty or of the Council, Publication shall be made thereof. You will to your uttermost bear Faith and Allegiance unto the King’s Majesty; and will assist and defend all Jurisdictions, Pre-eminences, and Authorities, granted to His Majesty and annexed to the Crown by Acts of Parliament, or otherwise, against all Foreign Princes, Persons, Prelates, States, or Potentates. And generally in all things you will do as a faithful and true Servant ought to do to His Majesty. So help you God.”

“So help me God,” Granger responded.

“So help me God,” Daventry echoed.