The Secretary (5 page)

“You’ll fill those trousers out yet, young sir,” Mrs. Butterford laughed. “Don’t you have someone at home to feed you?”

“No, Mrs. Butterford, I live alone.”

“Do you, now? Where are your people?”

“My mother died when I was young, and my father last year,” Clarissa said honestly. “I’m an only child. My father’s people were from York, but they’re all gone now, too.”

“You’re young to be all alone in the world.”

“I manage, Mrs. Butterford,” Clarissa said, hoping her voice didn’t sound too defensive. She pushed away from the table, brushing a few crumbs from her lapel. “Thank you for the excellent breakfast.”

“Come back again tomorrow, love,” Mrs. Butterford called after her. “You’re always welcome.”

When Anders finished his breakfast and went back up to his study, it was to find Mr. Ford already there, poring carefully over the notes Anders had made the night before.

“Good morning, My Lord,” Ford said amiably, smiling. Anders returned the smile. There was something so engaging about his secretary. His cheerful mood was almost infectious. “I’ve been reading your notes on Viscount Sidney’s bill.”

“Ah,” Anders said, taking a seat and gesturing for Ford to do the same.

The secretary perched gingerly on the edge of his chair and then, looking rather self-conscious, slid back into a more comfortable position. “I don’t wish to be rude, My Lord, but is Viscount Sidney a good friend of yours?”

“The best,” Anders said. “We came up together through Eton and Cambridge.”

“I see.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, if you’ll permit me to say so, My Lord, it seems to me that you were rather...polite in your editing of the bill.”

“Polite?”

“I think, given the other writings of yours I’ve read in the last two days, that you would have made more changes to the language, but that you chose not to because Viscount Sidney is your friend.” Ford pursed his lips in a delicate, almost feminine way.

Anders stared at his secretary for a moment, wondering what to say. He got up from his chair and went to the window. “Sometimes,” he said after a moment, “we make sacrifices for our friends.”

Ford kept his seat. “You are interested in the causes championed in this bill,” he said. “You want to see these reforms put into place. My...my previous employer was also interested in the welfare of the poor.”

“Yes, I know,” Anders said, still staring out the window. It was true, what Ford said. He had been kinder to Leo than he should have. But his friend was passionate about this particular cause, far more passionate than Anders could claim to be. He did not want to hurt Leo, but he knew that what Ford said was correct—as it was, the bill would fail. The language was too condemnatory of the Tories. “I will speak with him about it.”

“Very well, My Lord.”

“We will be going to my office at Westminster today,” Anders said. “We will probably not return here until after the Opening. Will you pack up all my papers and meet me downstairs in an hour?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Anders left his study in Ford’s capable hands and went for a swim.

Clarissa’s hands trembled as she stacked the earl’s papers and carefully slid them into the large folio she had found. She had been very bold just now, with the earl. She had criticized not only him but his friend the viscount as well, and he had every right to be terribly angry with her. But he had not been. Indeed, he had seemed to consider her advice carefully.

Still, she was already getting too comfortable. It had taken her a few moments to realize that she was perching on the edge of her chair as a lady might. He might not have noticed, but she had, and she was still chastising herself for it. Hadn’t she practiced sitting like a man? She had studied several of them over the week she had spent preparing for this deception, trying to copy the way they walked, the way they held their hats, and the way they sat. She had even practiced in front of a mirror in her flat. She was letting her guard down. She could not make such a foolish mistake again. And she would have to be less familiar in the future. It might have been all right for her to debate the issues of the day with her father, but with the Earl of Stowe she had to be more circumspect.

“It’s quite all right, Phelps, I’ll just wait in the study,” called a man’s voice outside. Clarissa whirled around just as the doors flew open and an imposing man strode in. He froze when he saw her. “I say,” he said. “Anders didn’t tell me he’d hired a new secretary.”

“Lord Stowe only hired me two days ago,” Clarissa explained. “I’m Clarence Ford.”

“How do you do, Mr. Ford? I’m Leopold Chesney,” the man said, beaming. He was extremely handsome when he smiled, and in a completely different way from Lord Stowe. Her employer had a dark, rakish look about him, where this man’s perfectly chiseled looks ran more towards the Adonis vein. And where the stranger’s eyes were a brilliant, arresting blue, Clarissa had seen that Lord Stowe’s were a deep, intelligent gray. Certainly a study in contrasts, and yet they were both quite attractive. Clarissa felt herself blushing and forced thoughts of strong chins and broad shoulders from her mind. It was only as she did so that the name Chesney struck a chord.

“Lord Sidney,” she said. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance.”

“So Anders has told you about me?” the viscount asked, crossing the room and lazily dropping into a chair. He watched as Clarissa returned to straightening papers.

“He has mentioned you, My Lord. But I know you from your work, as well. I was previously secretary to Jonah Martin.”

Lord Sidney stared at her. “Martin,” he said. “Ah, yes. Excellent man. He was killed, wasn’t he, in some sort of accident?”

Clarissa nodded. “He was struck by a carriage,” she said, rather more calmly than she had managed when she had spoken of it to the earl. “While walking home from the Opening of Parliament last year.”

“I see. Well, my condolences.”

“It was a year ago, My Lord, but I thank you.”

“And how do you like your new position?”

“Very well, My Lord.”

“You’re rather young, aren’t you, to be acting as secretary to a peer?”

“I suppose so,” Clarissa said, not liking where this conversation was going. Lord Stowe had every right to ask her these sorts of questions, but his friend did not.

Fortunately, Lord Sidney seemed to realize his rudeness as well. “I’m being impertinent, aren’t I? I do beg your pardon.”

“Of course not, My Lord.”

“Well, I’m just glad Anders has found someone who seems capable for once. Where is he, anyway?”

“I believe he went for a swim, My Lord.”

“Does he plan on showing his face at Westminster any time soon?”

“I believe so,” Clarissa said. Lord Sidney’s tone implied that he disapproved of the earl’s habit of swimming.

“Be so good as to ask him to find me there when he arrives?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

“No need,” the earl said, striding into the room. He was, as always, impeccably clothed, but his hair looked a little damp. Clarissa wondered that he didn’t cut it shorter—it would make swimming easier, certainly. Though now that she looked at him with his hair still damp and his cheeks flushed from the exercise, she thought that he looked quite attractive, and she hoped he never cut his hair shorter. It suited his patrician looks. She wondered what it would feel like, if it would be soft like hers.

Stop it, Clarissa
, she admonished herself.

“Ah, Anders,” Lord Sidney said, jumping up from his chair. “Glad to see you’ve found another secretary. How long are you planning on keeping this one?” he asked jovially. The earl looked rather embarrassed.

“Pay him no mind, Ford,” he said. To Sidney he added, “Mr. Ford and I have agreed to a trial period of one month.”

“Well, if anyone can stick it out that long, Mr. Ford seems to be the chap to do it. What do you say to twelve-thirty, Anders?”

“As you wish.”

Lord Sidney shook hands with Lord Stowe and left.

“He means well,” the earl said when his friend had gone.

Clarissa smiled. “I know. I wasn’t offended, truly.”

“I’m glad to hear it. It’ll be a long month if you’re easily perturbed.”

“I assure you I’m not,” she replied, rather hoping it was true. She had not had a great deal of experience in the company of peers, but if Lord Sidney was any indication, she was going to have to develop a thick skin rather quickly.

“Are you ready?” Lord Stowe asked.

“Of course, My Lord.”

“Then let’s be off.”

Anders had been to Westminster a thousand times or more, but he never tired of the exhilaration he felt when he walked through the peers’ entrance. Some of the glory and ceremony of it had dulled, but that one moment when he passed through the archway and into the hallowed halls was magical for him. Today especially, on the day of the Opening, there was a sort of charged energy rippling through the air as the members milled about, greeting each other. Anders nodded to several men and shook hands with a few, but there was much to be done. There was one man in particular he wished to see, and ironically that man was not here in the Chancellor’s corridor.

Having not been able to enter through the peers’ entrance, Ford was waiting for him in the corridor. “Follow me,” Anders said, heading towards his rooms. He could see Ford watching the way carefully—he would never have been in the part of Westminster where the peers’ apartments were, of course. “Some of the secretaries have maps they carry about for the first few weeks,” Anders said quietly.

“Don’t worry about me, My Lord,” Ford said cheerily. “I’ll find my feet quickly.”

They turned a few corners and went up a flight of stairs. Then, just as they were nearing their door, Anders spotted the man he wished to see. “Lord Brougham,” he called. The Lord Chancellor, who had been breaking away from a group of men, smiled warmly when he saw Anders.

“Stowe,” he said, coming over to shake hands. “Glad to see you back among our ranks again. And who is this young man?”

“My secretary, Clarence Ford,” Anders said, putting his hand on Ford’s bony shoulder to guide him forward. “You might have known his previous employer, Jonah Martin.”

Brougham’s face clouded. “Of course I knew him. Mr. Martin and I often worked together when I was still in Commons, Mr. Ford. He was a great man.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Ford stammered.

“Well, Stowe, where are we?” Brougham asked, his attention still focused on business.

“I’ve heard a great deal of support,” Anders replied. Indeed, searching out support for the proposal Brougham planned to introduce again this year was one of the only reasons he had gone into society over the last month. And it was true that he had heard many men voice support for the abolition proposal. However, he had also heard many complaining of the difficulty of finding cheap labor in the colonies, and the cost of keeping it. There were a great many men who had made their fortunes in the West Indies and Bermuda off sugar cane and slaves, and skirting the previous measures that had been put in place to prevent the trading of slaves had become something of an art form for them. It would not be easy to pass a law further curtailing the trade. But that was just what Brougham meant to do, and now he smiled and shook Anders’s hand again, his confidence unwavering.

“Good, good. Well, if the king doesn’t threaten to have us dissolved again, perhaps we can make some headway this session.”

“I hope so, My Lord.”

“Good man,” Brougham said, shaking hands again, the twinkle in his eye reminiscent of the young man he had been when he had first entered the Commons over twenty years earlier. Then the Lord Chancellor spotted another member and was off.

“That was Baron Brougham,” Ford whispered.

“Yes, it was,” Anders agreed, grinning at his star-struck secretary. “You’ll see him again, I would imagine.”

“He
spoke
to me,” Ford said, his voice still filled with awe.

“You’ll get used to it. We don’t have time to be overwhelmed now, Ford.”

“Of course, My Lord. My apologies.” Ford looked chastened, but he glanced back one last time to where Brougham still stood, chatting amiably.

It was just a few more steps to Anders’s rooms. As he opened the door he said, “Now you’ll see why I don’t come here often.”

Beyond the door lay a room so tiny Anders had at first not been able to believe it was housed inside the massive Palace of Westminster. A miniscule window overlooked the river, letting in a little weak, gray light. Against one wall sat a desk and chair.

“This will be yours,” Anders said, gesturing to the desk. Ford nodded. “And here,” Anders said, opening the door beyond, “is my office.”

It wasn’t much bigger than the antechamber, but Anders felt a surge of pride that it was at least tidy, largely because he couldn’t generally bear to be trapped in such a small space. He did not come here often, but there were some days when it paid to be in the middle of the action at Westminster, and today was one of those days. He only hoped his new secretary wasn’t as taken aback by the small quarters as some of his predecessors. But Ford appeared unperturbed. “Well,” he said, “let’s get to work.”

FIVE

January 29, 1833

Clarissa stood in the public viewing gallery and watched as the peers took their oath. Lord Stowe and his friend Lord Sidney stood side-by-side on the Spiritual side, where the members of His Majesty’s government sat. Both appeared grim and determined as they recited the formal words of the oath, but when it was over they grinned at each other, and Clarissa smiled right along with them, feeling a surge of gratitude for the stroke of luck that had brought her to Lord Stowe. She had been so desperate for work that she would have taken almost any position she could find, but it was fortunate that she had found a man whose ideals and principles she could respect and admire.

It also made it more difficult to deceive him, however.

Clarissa had not inherited her looks or her temperament from her father, but she had inherited his fine mind. She was not stupid. She knew that she would not be able to maintain the ruse of Clarence Ford forever. Sooner or later—and she hoped it was much, much later—she would be forced to leave Lord Stowe’s employ. She was rather hoping that she could manage to leave before he discovered what she really was. It would be much easier if she never had to tell him the truth at all.