Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Dorian stood in the receiving line, greeting his guests for the dinner party that evening. Jonathan and Emma stood close beside him.

“What a good job you make of flattering them, appealing to their vanities,” Jonathan said sotto voce to Dorian after a dignified older lady and her granddaughter passed through the dining room door. “At least that is one good thing that you inherited from your mother.”

Dorian hated it when Jonathan talked like that, as if their guests were lambs being led to the slaughter, to say nothing of implying that his mother was less than presentable. Yet he knew that was exactly what the guests were there for — to be persuaded to open their wallets and make contributions to support the hospital.

His father had founded St. Justus, planning it as an alternative to the grim, uncaring facilities so often presented as the only alternative for those whose minds were burdened by the exigencies of daily living. It was important to him to maintain his father’s legacy, but Jonathan’s attitude kept him off balance.

Then, the moment he had been dreading arrived. Sir Francis, Lady Temple, Lord Temple, and Miss Temple alighted from their carriage.

“Ah, there they are,” Jonathan said affably. “I made sure to invite them, sending a note to Lady Temple. I knew you would want them here, and I feel sure that Lady Temple can easily be persuaded to make a sizeable contribution.”

“I am not so sure of that,” Dorian said. “Sir Francis spent a great deal of money on the continent. Until his next book is complete, I am not at all sure he will have the means to donate.”

“Pish!” Jonathan said. “Marie-Belle has always liked you. With your looks and charm, I’m sure you can wheedle the ready right out of her. I’m fairly certain she has her eye on you for her harum-scarum daughter, but I have greater plans for you.”

Jonathan smirked, and Dorian felt his heart sink within him. He knew exactly what Jonathan meant, but he could not let his uncle disparage Lenora in this way.

“Lenora has a good heart, and she usually means well. She does a bang-up job caring for animals, such as that foolish little dog, Fidele, and her saddle mare. She might not be perfect in the drawing room, but she is a champion in the hunting field.”

“And I’m sure that prowess in the hunt will help you line the coffers of St Justus,” Jonathan scoffed.

“It is my understanding that a great many business deals are struck on the hunting field or in the duck blinds,” Dorian said gently. “They simply do not include charming matrons and their daughters into making charitable donations that will probably anger their husbands at the end of the month when they tally up the household accounts.”

Jonathan waved a hand airily. “La! That you should even consider such things important stuns me.”

And it stuns me that you would not. But Dorian kept his thoughts to himself, turning to meet the next guest. He plastered on an affable smile, saying all the correct things even though it felt as if his stomach was filling with acid.

Dorian wanted to greet Lenora personally despite not wanting to have her attend this wretched fund-raising dinner. But a plump matron and her daughter were next in line. He could not in good conscience just brush them off as the woman’s husband was a generous contributor to the hospital. His sense of frustration deepened.

“Thank you for attending,” he said. “Your generosity helps support my father’s legacy. Thanks to people like you, the hospital is a haven for people who need it. And my uncle’s ingenuity in creating medicines for them will help turn around many an unfortunate soul.”

“Of course, it will,” the woman simpered. “We are so fortunate to have such a great man working in our small, local hospital. And you are such a good boy to carry on your father’s great work.”

For a terrifying moment, Dorian feared she would pinch his cheek as if he were a child. But her daughter caught her arm and directed her attention towards another friend. “Ta-ta!” the matron said, waving pudgy fingers at Dorian.

By the time he had finished greeting the matron, Lenora and her family were already proceeding towards the dining hall.

After a great deal of posturing and pretension, all the guests were seated. They fell upon the refreshments provided as if they were wolves or hunting hounds just returned from the field. Dorian’s cook was, indeed, a master of the culinary art. He could combine the most ordinary ingredients and come up with a masterpiece. These dinners went a great deal farther towards loosening purse strings than any number of flattering speeches.

Over dessert, Jonathan rose and made a long speech about the positive effects of charitable giving on the health of the giver.

When the men went out on the veranda to smoke and partake of brandy, Jonathan pulled Dorian to one side.

“Let’s keep my miracle cures a little quieter, shall we? My latest is yet to be proved — even though I am sure it will be. Even so, I don’t want to let my secrets out to just anyone.”

Dorian was surprised by his uncle’s vehemence. “Beg pardon?” he said. “I am only taking the approach I usually employ. You have done a great deal of good here.”

“Perhaps,” Jonathan said. “But let’s not bandy it about. I’d much rather wait until I am sure of the effects of my cure and then reveal it all at once.”

“Very well,” Dorian said. “But it would make it easier to gain donations if I could mention your work.”

“But much more difficult to refute if something goes wrong,” Jonathan pointed out. “Medicine is not an exact science. Each person responds slightly differently to medication. What is good for one might not be good for another. In the wrong hands, any medicine can be harmful instead of helpful.”

“I suppose that is true,” Dorian said. “But it is a great deal easier to lean on your reputation if I am allowed to mention it.”

“When I make my big breakthrough, then you can mention it all you want,” Jonathan returned. “But until then, let’s not make too much of it, eh?”

“Very well,” Dorian agreed reluctantly. “I shall do my best to simply woo and charm the money out of the many maids and matrons in attendance.”

“There’s my good lad,” Jonathan approved. “I know you can do it and do it tastefully.”

Dorian simply nodded. He knew that as the founder’s son, even though he had studied medicine in London with some of the best physicians, his primary function was to encourage donations. No matter how good a physician anyone might be, a hospital needed bed linens, bandages, and food, as well as more esoteric medicines. Too many of their charity patients were simply perishing for lack of sustenance rather than from the many diseases and impurities to which they might be exposed.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said. “Not all our donations are in the form of money. The local farmers sent a wagon load of vegetables today.”

“No doubt that will help with running expenses, but do not forget that we also need cash funds for the expansion and for medication. “

“I know,” Dorian said.

Someone across the terrace caught Jonathan’s eye. “There is Sir Francis. I should extend my greetings.”

“Quite an amusing fellow, isn’t he?” August appeared at Dorian’s elbow. “I’ve never quite known what to make of him, even though he is my father.”

“Nor do I,” Dorian agreed, “and I have known him as long as I can remember.”

“Lenora is looking for you. Be wary. I fear she is put out by all the flirting you have done.” August grinned at him wickedly, waiting for his response.

“All in the line of duty, I’m afraid. Jonathan expects me to lure in substantial donations. One can scarcely do so without being charming.” Dorian felt as if his skin was being rubbed off, exposing the veins and nerves beneath. During his days as a medical student, he had seen a cadaver who had been thrown from a horse, and then dragged several yards before the beast could be stopped. Fortunately, the man had hit his head on a rock and was likely quite dead before most of the damage occurred.

Still, the turmoil he felt put him in mind of the poor fellow’s state. He knew very well that the ton rarely had the opportunity to live for themselves. Still, he found some of his duties less tasteful than others.

He went back inside and found that many of the guests were settling down at the various card tables to play whist. The well-rounded lady he had spoken with earlier called to him, “We need a fourth. Can you oblige us, Lord de Clare?”

There was nothing he wanted to do less than sit at a table and play cards. He wanted to find Lenora and have a nice, long, sensible prose with her about, oh, just about anything other than who was flirting with whom and how many beds a pound donation could buy.

Was he doing useful work when he flattered and cajoled the matrons? Probably, but he would rather do a full round of bedpans than engage in conversation at one of these soirees.

“Of course,” he said, “I would be glad to do so.”

The ladies turned out to be card sharks of the first water. By the end of the evening, he was several shillings lighter in his pocket. And that was the other thing. Even though he had inherited Clare Court separately from the hospital, his income was only modestly greater than any of his peers and somewhat less than some.

Dorian took his place beside Jonathan and Emma to see their guests off. When Lenora and her family came through the line of departing guests, Lenora gave Dorian her hand and said, “How lovely not seeing you this evening.”

“My deepest regrets,” Dorian apologized. “But I did try to warn you off. I knew exactly how this evening must be.”

“So, you did try,” Lenora said. “I do wonder why. You certainly seemed to have time for every woman in attendance except your best friend.”

“Amazingly enough, all in the line of duty,” Dorian said. “None are more beautiful or charming than yourself.”

“Posh. Flatterer,” Lenora sniffed. But she looked pleased all the same. “Hopefully, there will be other occasions where you are not so called to duty.”

“Hopefully,” he agreed and watched her and her family sweep out the door and into the night.

“She seems fond of you,” Emma remarked.

“Perhaps a little too fond,” Jonathan added, frowning.

“We’ve been friends since childhood,” Dorian said. “I think she hoped I would assist her with introductions to young men. With her sisters married, she is on fire to follow suit.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Jonathan snorted. “She seems to always be on fire to do something.”