Chapter 10

Despite his fears as to what he had agreed to and what he had found himself involved in, William was pleased at the prospect of attending the ball at Charlton Lodge the following week. In the coming days, his mind had often wandered to thoughts of Anne, and the evening they would share. He pictured elegant dresses and fashionable ladies and heard the sound of the tinkle of crystal and glass, and the music drifting on the air. In his mind's eye, William could see Anne – Lady Miller – wearing a beautiful gown, and he imagined taking her in his arms, the two of them twirling around a ballroom beneath the flickering candlelight of a chandelier.

"How do you do? Yes, very well, thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you. What brings you to London? Are you here for the season? Yes, I've come here to…" William said, his words faltering as he stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom at The Spaniards Inn. He had been practicing what to say – or rather, what not to say – at the ball, and whilst he was more than capable of introducing himself, he found what came next a struggle.

"They'll ask about my father and mother. They'll assume there's a fortune in the colonies – sugar, probably. But I don't know anything about anything," William exclaimed to himself, sighing and shaking his head.

He felt like a fraud. He was a fraud, or so he told himself – repeatedly. William did not have the confidence of others, and certainly not that of Digby, who had already allayed his fears a dozen times.

"You'll be quite all right, and I'll be there, too, won't I?" he had said, whenever William had expressed doubts.

With a sigh, he adjusted his necktie in the mirror – another gentlemanly trapping he was only just getting used to – and made his way down to the taproom. It was evening, and he and Digby had spent the day presenting themselves at various firms of brokers and solicitors. It was Digby who had taken it on himself to make the introductions, presenting the duke's letter with a flourish to which every clerk should appear at the door.

"Mr. William Baker, godson of the Duke of Lancaster," he would say, and the clerk would scurry off to fetch someone more worthy of dealing with such a figure of importance.

But in every encounter, William felt a fraud. He was – to use words of his mother's – "mutton dressed as lamb," and his encounter with Anne had only proved that further.

"I'm having doubts about the ball," William said, as he came to sit down with Digby in their usual corner.

The table had been laid for dinner, and the landlord brought a dish of boiled beef and vegetables to the dinner, putting it down and giving a curt bow – William was one of his best customers, and along with Digby, William had already spent a considerable portion of his godfather's generosity at the inn.

"I'll bring a pie, next, sirs – a game pie," the landlord said, after Digby had ordered two tankards of ale.

"Nonsense, William – you're not having second thoughts at all. You doubt yourself far too much," Digby said, shaking his head.

"But I fear I'll be exposed for what I am," William said.

But Digby refused to listen. He insisted on calling William a gentleman in all things and would not hear it said he was anything but what he purported to be.

"Have some faith in your own abilities, William. Would your godfather have sent you to London if he believed you to be a failure? Not at all, I assure you. We've already practiced some of the dances, and you can sit out for those you don't know," Digby replied.

But William was still unconvinced. His sole motivation for going through with the matter was Anne. He was thinking about her more and more, both with a sense of guilt at having given the wrong impression to her, and with a sense of excitement and expectation at the chance of seeing her again. But no matter how he dressed it up, William knew he had lied, and that lie would only grow bigger as their acquaintance continued.

"Oh, but I'm bound to get it wrong. I don't know how to dance – not like that. One step, two step, twirl and round," William said, repeating the moves Digby had taught him.

It had been rather like fencing, and whilst William had taken to the sport well enough, his dancing left much to be desired.

"You'll see everyone else do it, too – just follow them. You'll be quite all right," Digby insisted, as the landlord now returned with their drinks, and the kitchen boy brought the game pie to the table.

But William remained doubtful – he was doubtful about a lot of things. In Lancashire, he had been given every possible opportunity by his godfather, but in London, it seemed everyone was attracted by the possibility of fortune and determined to make a success of themselves. Back home, William had stood out, but here, he was simply one of the crowd.

"I suppose so. It's just…well, I don't know. It all seems rather… I'm just not meant to be this," William said.

Digby raised his eyebrows.

"You've as much right as anyone to make a success of themselves, William. Don't let anyone tell you differently. Come now, we've got a fine dinner before us. Let's not allow it to go to waste," he said.

William nodded. Whatever doubts he raised, Digby had an answer, and there was no doubt he believed in William, even as William doubted himself. But whilst dances could be learned, and social graces, practiced, there was one thing – of a practical nature – William was lacking.

"But what about money?" he said.

William's godfather had been generous in the allowance he had given William for his board and lodgings. He had paid for William's clothes and provided him with transportation. But such kindness came with expectation. William was expected to begin work, but it was Digby who had insisted they keep looking, rather than immediately accepting one of the previous offers made. Appearance was one thing, but money was scarce, and one could not expect to go to a ball without personal means. Digby smiled, his eyes narrowing, and he leaned forward with a knowing look in his eyes.

"Don't worry about money, William," he said, glancing from left to right lest they be overheard.

William was confused. Money was a worry, and if he did not begin some form of meaningful employment soon, his prospects would quickly diminish.

"I don't understand. Why shouldn't I worry about money?" he asked.

"Because making money doesn't have to be difficult – not if you know the right way to go about it," Digby replied.

William had long been an observer of wealth in his relations with the duke and duchess, but wealth itself was unfamiliar to him. Making money required a job, whilst having money was usually the happy chance of inheritance, as it was for his godfather. The circumstances of birth dictated so much of what was to come, and whilst some were born to affluence, others, like William, were born into struggle. He had observed this struggle as a child, for his mother had always had to work hard for the things they had. If it had not been for the patronage of the duke, William's prospects would have been just the same as any other boy of his age, and making money would have remained a difficult task.

"But I haven't made a penny since arriving here, though I've certainly made some useful introductions," William said.

Digby smiled, reaching into his pocket, and drawing out a clenched fist. William looked at him curiously. He smiled broadly, holding it above the table.

"What do you think I've got here, William?" he said, and William shook his head.

"I don't know," he replied, wondering what it was the tutor was holding.

Digby opened his hand, and to William's surprise, a pair of dice dropped onto the table, rolling with a clatter, and coming to rest on two sixes.

"Dice," Digby said, as though the sight of them was self-explanatory.

"Dice? But what are we meant to do with them?" William asked, even as he feared the answer.

"What do you think, William? Gambling," he said, and William's heart sank.

William knew what gambling could do to a person. It was a dangerous pursuit, one with many risks attached. His mother had warned him about it, for she had known several men in the village afflicted with an unfortunate taste for rolling dice, playing cards, and placing bets.

"No, that's not a solution," he exclaimed, but Digby shook his head.

"It is if you win, and you will, William. I know you will," he said.

This, in itself, was a gamble, and one William did not think would pay off. He knew nothing about playing dice – or cards, or whatever else one might place a wager on. Money could be lost, as well as won, and the thought of doing so filled William with dread. His godfather had trusted him with an allowance, and it was not for William to use that money for gambling.

"Digby…I don't think so. It's not a good idea," he said, but his mentor smiled, and picked up the dice and rolled them again.

They landed on double six, and William raised his eyebrows.

"Digby, no…" he said, but Digby laughed.

"You wouldn't use the weighted dice every time, but you could ensure victory as and when you wished," he replied.

But William was emphatic. He was not about to cheat, and he was surprised to think of Digby stooping so low as to suggest it. His new friend had presented himself as a model to emulate, and William now wondered as to why he would be so determined to see William succeed even at the cost of something underhand and dishonourable. There were times when William felt almost scared by Digby – there was something about him, something not entirely as his first impressions had given.

"I won't use weighted dice, Digby. I won't," he said, and Digby nodded.

"I was only teasing you, William. Terrible things, these. No, I was only showing you them as a warning. Others might not be so honest. But you're an intelligent young man. A man of business. A gentleman. You don't need to cheat to win. I can teach you how to play dice, cards – any game. And I can tell the sort of wagers you'll succeed in. You could make far more money than you would as an apprentice," Digby said.

William sighed. He felt uncertain as to Digby's idea. His godfather had sent him to London to secure an apprenticeship. He was to make a gentleman of himself, and if it was discovered he was gambling, his mother and Godfather would be shocked.

"But I could lose far more of it, too – you know that," William said, shaking his head.

The dice were still lying on the table, their faces on the lucky double six. There was a sense of possibility, even as William tried hard to resist. He needed money, and the first days of an apprentice's wage could not hope to provide the necessities he would need if he was to continue the illusion of gentlemanly wealth. Anne believed he was something he was not, and whilst William knew it was wrong to deceive her, he wondered if he might also prolong his own enjoyment of the illusion, too. He enjoyed being a gentleman, and Digby had assured him he was well-suited to it, too.

"But you won't, that's the point – isn't it? We'll make sure you don't. It's easy when you know how," Digby replied, with an encouraging tone.

"But how?" William asked, for he had not realized Digby's prowess in such matters.

His new friend had not mentioned gambling, but nor had he mentioned fencing at their first meeting either, and he had proved himself adept at that. William trusted Digby. He was a friend of Professor Murray and had done much to ensure William found his way in this new, and sometimes overwhelming, city.

"Observation, William. That's the key in so many pursuits. Take fencing, for example. Brute strength might win in a bout of swordsmanship, but the fencer knows when to strike, when to hold back, when to place himself on the defensive, and the offensive. It's all a matter of observation. It's the same with cards or rolling dice. Observe your opponent. Does he take risks, is he cautious, or does he attempt to surprise you?" Digby replied.

William nodded. He could see the sense in that. But as for ever having played such games or risked any money in such pursuits, he remained na?ve. His mother had never taught him cards, and William wondered if his father had ever played such games to pass the long days abroad with the military.

"I suppose so. But where does one practice such things?" William replied, for he had the feeling Digby would not take no for an answer.

Glancing around him, he saw one or two others rolling dice and playing cards, but they were doing so for pennies and matchsticks – hardly what was required of William. Digby smiled, as though he knew what William was thinking.

"Not here, that's for certain. No, we'll go to one of the gentleman's clubs. You can observe the proceedings, then make your wager. Small, at first, but a few victories, and you'll soon increase the stakes," Digby replied.

William felt uncomfortable at this thought, but he was torn between sense and sensibilities. Reason suggested he was a fool to wager what little money he had on such risk, whilst his heart yearned to impress Anne, and continue the impression of wealth and suitability he – or rather Digby – had given.

"A gentleman's club? But I've never set foot in such a place," William said.

The plan seemed to be spiralling out of control, but Digby shook his head and smiled.

"And what does that matter? You've got your godfather's letter of recommendation. Why not use it?" he said.

William felt uncertain. It was one thing to use it for its intended purpose, but if the duke discovered his name was being used as an entry to gambling and drinking, William would surely find himself in trouble.

"I'm not sure about that," William said, but Digby shook his head.

"Doesn't a gentleman use whatever happens to be at his disposal to further his advantage?" he asked.

William sighed. He had seen such behaviour already – young men seeking preferment, unafraid to push themselves forward. He had witnessed it only that morning – a boy, no older than himself, had talked his way into the offices of a broker they were visiting, insisting his uncle was the ambassador to India, and demanding an interview on that very basis. He was given one, and as William and Digby had emerged from the broker's office, the boy was being offered a job.

"You're right, I suppose," William replied, and Digby smiled.

"You know I'm right, William. And what's more, I'm going to make sure you win. Think of the impression you'll make on miss…I mean, Lady Miller," he said, smiling at William, who nodded.

It would be worth it to impress Anne, or so it seemed. William really did not know what would impress her, but she was surely used to finery, and expected those with whom she mingled to be of a certain standing. William wanted to be that gentleman, and despite his misgivings, he now agreed to Digby's plan.

"Very well, if you'll teach me, I'll do it," he replied, and his mentor smiled.

"You won't regret it, William. I promise you," he replied, and it seemed the matter was settled.

But in his mind, William still felt torn between loyalty to what was expected of him, and the desire to impress the woman who had so captivated his heart. It was a foolish folly – he knew that – and yet the feelings persisted. She was beautiful, charming, witty, intelligent – a delight – and William could not stop thinking about her.

"Let the illusion last a little longer," he thought to himself, as he lay in bed that night, thinking of Anne, and all they might share together, if William truly was a gentleman.