Andrew Taylor - The American Boy

"Thank you, sir." I eyed my host's face with some anxiety, for it had grown dark with wine. "May I ask what you meant in your letter? About an explanation?"

"An explanation?" He shut his eyes for a moment. "Aye, well, first I must tell you that I have written to Mr Bransby. When I was trying to find you out, he was naturally the first person I thought of."

"In that case you will know that I have resigned from my position at his school."

"Yes – he – well, not to beat about the bush – he made a number of allegations about your conduct which I found hard to credit."

"That is perhaps because they were untrue."

Rowsell's eyebrows shot up. "I am glad to hear it, Tom."

"Theft, philandering and neglecting my duty to his pupils?"

He nodded. "I reminded the reverend gentleman that there was a law of libel in this country. He did not reply to my second letter."

"Surely Mrs Rowsell must have known of my disgrace long before you heard of it from Mr Bransby?"

"Yes, yes, Mrs Rowsell – yes, I shall come to that." His colour darkened still more, and he applied himself to his wine. "I did not know where you were. I cannot tell you how glad I was when Quintus Atkins came up to me on Monday morning and said he had found you."

"On Monday ? Not Tuesday?"

"Yes, it was Monday, I'm sure of it – you would not think it to look at him, but Atkins has a gift for talking to strangers, for asking harmless questions in a way that does not cause offence, and a wide acquaintance. I did not think it likely you would have returned to Rosington, or even left town. I determined to concentrate our search on the vicinity of the Strand – I thought it the most likely part of London for you to choose, you see, because of its long association with your aunt. It was merely a matter of his tramping the streets and asking questions for long enough, and there you were. To be precise, he was introduced to a stonemason in a public house. It turned out you had written a letter for the man. And later Atkins confirmed it by buying a glass of rum for a former sailor who lodges on the floor below you. I may say that both men gave you fine testimonials. So then I wrote the letter he brought you."

I hesitated, wanting to pursue the matter further but uncertain how best to go about it. "Forgive me for labouring the point, sir, but I heard that another man came looking for me at Gaunt-court on Tuesday. I wondered whether someone else, perhaps less benevolent than yourself, wished to find me."

"I'm positive that Atkins told me the news on Monday." Rowsell frowned. "Mr Carswall? Could it have been he?"

"It's possible."

"Do you feel able to tell me more about the circumstances?"

"I left Monkshill-park under a cloud. The cloud was none of my making, and Mr Carswall treated me unjustly. His malevolence pursued me to London, for he wrote to Mr Bransby and made certain accusations – those you have already heard. He manufactured evidence to support the most serious of those accusations. He meant to cost me my position, sir, and possibly my liberty – and even, perhaps, my life."

"If you were my client, I would advise you not to repeat those accusations in public." Rowsell dabbed his finger in a circle of wine on the table and drew the outline of a head resembling a fox's. "He is a wealthy man, Mr Carswall, and one with a certain reputation. He may be an old dog, but he can still bite."

"I was forewarned of his scheme by a friend," I continued. "So I came straight to you, intending to lay the matter before you and ask your advice."

Rowsell lowered his head over his glass. "I am sorry. It was most unfortunate that I was not in the way when you called."

"I went to Lincoln's Inn first, and Atkins sent me on to Northington-street. I concluded from Mrs Rowsell's reception of me that Mr Carswall had reached you before me, and poisoned your mind and hers against me."

"Very natural, my dear boy. That was not the case, however – the first I heard of what had happened was when Mr Bransby replied to my letter of inquiry. No, Mrs Rowsell's conduct sprang from another source. I hold myself very much to blame. I have not been altogether candid with you, I am afraid, and the fault is entirely mine. Circumstances placed me in an awkward position, and indeed they still do." He swallowed half a glass of wine. "That is why I asked you to dine with me here, rather than at Northington-street."

"If I have distressed Mrs Rowsell in any way, I regret it extremely."

"No, it is not you who have distressed her: it is I. And of course I have also distressed you. Tell me, did you never wonder why your excellent aunt placed her affairs in my hands? I do not wish to seem immodest, but it must have occurred to you that I am moderately successful in what I do, and that I would not usually attend so assiduously to the affairs of a lady in her circumstances, however amiable she was in her personal character. Mrs Reynolds's estate, as you know, was not large."

"I had remarked on your kindness many times, sir. You will think me foolish but I had ascribed it to philanthropy, to a natural benevolence."

"I am reproved. I wish that were true. Though, in fairness to myself, I may state that I assisted your aunt in her legal affairs, and indeed yourself, with no thought of gain. My motives were disinterested but I cannot claim they sprang from general benevolence." Rowsell broke off to pour more wine. He had neglected his food, which was unlike him, for he was usually a good trencher-man.

I said gently, "I would not pain you, sir. Whatever your reasons, you were very kind to me when my aunt died and afterwards, and I shall always be grateful for that."

"Mrs Rowsell," he said, apparently out of the blue, "is a great reader of novels."

I stared at him. "I beg your pardon. I think I did not quite catch-"

"What I mean to say is this," he broke in, speaking low and fast and rather indistinctly. "Her mind has been to some extent formed by the reading that delights her hours of leisure. Nothing gives her greater pleasure than to settle down of an evening with a volume of the latest novel from the library. One could sometimes wish – ah, but no matter; I digress." He ran out of words and stabbed the meat he had barely touched with uncharacteristic venom.

I said, "One judges a man by his actions, and yours have been uniformly generous."

Rowsell swallowed a mouthful of wine. Then he stretched his arm across the table and touched the sleeve of my coat. "My dear boy. You are so like your mother sometimes. It is quite uncanny."

I laid down my knife and fork. "My mother, sir? My mother? You have the advantage of me: I did not realise that you knew her."

"Yes. A lady of great charm and refinement. Indeed, there lies my difficulty, the source of my present difficulty, that is to say, with regard to Mrs Rowsell. You recall that you were to have eaten your dinner with us on Christmas Day, but were unable to join us? It was on that very occasion that I allowed a few ill-timed words to slip out. We were dining with two of Mrs Rowsell's aunts and several of her cousins, and I suggested we drink a toast to you in your absence. With hindsight, I see that this was not altogether wise. It led to Mrs Rowsell's inquiring a little more deeply than before about the – ah – the evident affection in which I held you. I mentioned that I had known both your mother and your aunt when I was a young man. I – I chanced to expatiate at some length on your mother's many good qualities. I realise now, of course, that my enthusiasm was ill judged. Though Mrs Rowsell knew you were the nephew of a valued client, she was not aware that at one time I had been acquainted with your mother."

"When you say 'acquainted'-?"

"Indeed, rather more than acquainted."