Chapter 12

"And doubles make a win. That's a full flush," Digby said, peering over William's shoulder, as he placed the cards on the table.

The other men looked at him angrily, tossing their own cards onto the table and folding their arms.

"That's me out," one of them said, and the others expressed similar sentiments, as Digby reached over and scooped the, not inconsiderable, winnings across the table.

William was surprised. He had not expected to find any talent at cards, but that evening, under Digby's tutelage, he had won four out of five games, and pocketed ten pounds – more money than he had ever seen in his life.

"Won't you gentlemen play again?" Digby asked, but William's opponents shook their heads.

"Not against him," they muttered, and Digby smiled, glancing at William, who felt embarrassed.

"Well, it seems you've rather outdone yourself, William," he said, as William rose from the table.

He had not found the game difficult to master. It was easy enough to guess the cards in the other men's hands, compare them to his own and apply the rules. There was some luck, of course, in the hand, but a skill, too. One William found himself naturally inclined towards.

"I just followed the rules of the game. I had some lucky hands, I suppose," William replied, as Digby led him back to their usual corner.

"As I knew you would. This was a good place to practice – you've won some money, but it's small fish compared to what we might catch elsewhere," Digby said, smiling at William, who shook his head.

He had been reluctant to indulge Digby's suggestion. Gambling was not something his mother or godfather would approve of. He had won some money, and that was that. Digby had already made mention of the gentleman's club. But winning small amounts in a tavern was one thing, and the thought of pretending to be a gentleman in a place like Boodles' or Whites' was quite another.

"But I've got enough money now, haven't I? Isn't it pertinent to cease whilst I'm on the up?" William asked, for he felt certain his luck would run out, even as he had had been surprised as to his own abilities.

But Digby shook his head and laughed.

"No, William, not at all. You've proved your abilities, haven't you? There was no trouble in your winning now, and there'll be no trouble in your winning again. We'll go to Boodles' this evening," Digby said.

There was no question about it, and William felt he could not say no. Digby had been a friend and mentor to him ever since his arrival in London, and the money William had won would be useful. He thought about the forthcoming ball and seeing Anne again. With the money in his pocket, he could afford new clothes, and the necessities of the evening – a carriage to take them there, a fine bottle of claret, and an excellent supper, afterwards. William knew his mother would disapprove, and his godfather would be angry with him, but his heart was torn, and he wanted so very much to create the right impression with Anne.

"If I won a lot of money, I wouldn't need to explain anything to her," he told himself, as he and Digby set out for Boodles club later that day.

William had never been to a gentleman's club before. In truth, he did not know what occurred at such establishments, though he knew them to be places where the aristocracy and ambitious gentlemen gathered.

"Will they even let us in, Digby?" he asked, as the carriage pulled up outside a handsome building, built in white marble, with large windows and a flight of steps leading up to doors, where a liveried steward stood stiffly to receive guests.

Digby smiled.

"Don't you have your letter of recommendation?" he asked.

William nodded. Once again, he felt guilty at using his godfather's name in such a way, but Digby was right, the name of the Duke of Lancaster would be enough to gain them entry.

"Yes… I suppose there's no harm in it," he said, and Digby smiled.

"No harm at all. Come now, the tables await – as do the gentlemen's pocketbooks," he said, climbing out of the carriage.

William followed, somewhat reluctantly, though he was intrigued by the possibility of what might occur. The gentlemen of Boodles club were rich, and if William took a risk, the rewards could be considerable. He had with him his winning from The Spaniards Inn that afternoon, and he would use this as his initial wager.

"Do you have membership, gentlemen?" the steward asked, looking William and Digby up and down with an imperious expression.

"Not membership, no. But I understand association can also gain entry," Digby said.

The steward narrowed his eyes.

"It rather depends on the association, sir," he replied.

William's heart was beating fast, and he drew the letter of recommendation from his pocket, presenting it to the steward, who unfolded it and began to read.

"I think you'll find everything in order," Digby said, and the steward bowed.

"Certainly, sirs, right this way," he said, showing them through the door into a large hallway, with a wide, carpeted staircase rising before them.

"Good day, gentlemen. Is it the dining room you require?" another steward enquired, but Digby shook his head.

"No, we'll go straight up to the reading room. Are they playing tonight?" he asked.

The steward nodded, glancing at William with a knowing look.

"Lord Carlyle, Lord Ponsonby, the Earl of Strathclyde, and Mr. Justice Peel, and Prince Yurgi Kavragon – they're in the card room now. I believe they're looking for a sixth," he said, taking William's coat.

"Then it's a sixth they'll have," Digby replied, as he ushered William up the stairs.

William felt terribly nervous. He had only learned to play cards the day before, and now he was to sit down amongst the aristocracy and do so for large sums of money. It was one thing to play drinkers in a tavern, but this was something else.

"Are you sure about this?" William whispered, as Digby led him up the stairs.

"They're no different from the others, William. They've just got more money. Use a note of credit to begin with. Say fifty pounds," Digby replied.

William's eyes grew wide. Fifty pounds was more money than his mother earned in a whole year in her work as a seamstress. It was an obscene amount of money, and he shook his head, protesting, even as Digby caught his arm and marched forcibly forward.

"But what if I lose? I can't pay it," he whispered, as now they entered a large, book lined room, where several dozen men were sitting in armchairs, reading periodicals, or talking in low voices.

An archway led through to an ante-room, where a roaring fire burned in the hearth, and a large, plush covered table, stood in the centre, around which five men were sitting, preparing for a game of cards.

"Just go and sit down with them. Act with confidence. Put down a note of credit and do precisely what you did this afternoon. Count the cards, predict their moves. You're cleverer than them all, I assure you," Digby replied.

William did not share his confidence. The men were formidable looking – older, with white hair and stern expressions on their faces.

"Well, isn't anyone else going to join us?" one of them called out, and the other gentlemen in the reading room shook their heads.

"Cowards, that's the problem," another of the men at the table said.

"We can't play without a sixth, unless one of us drops out to make a four. But that's hardly fair, is it?" another of the men said.

Digby pushed William forward, and now he found himself standing before the five men, who looked up at him with disdain.

"Yes?" one of them asked.

"I…I'd like to join," William replied, knowing there could be no going back.

The men looked at one another, and one of them laughed.

"But you're only a puppy, wet behind the ears. Who are you?" he demanded.

William felt terribly nervous, but he drew a deep breath, fixing the man with a defiant expression.

"I'm William Baker. I've come to London to make my fortune. I want to play. I'll stand credit of fifty pounds," he said.

The men looked at one another, and all of them laughed.

"What nonsense," one of them said, but it was Digby who now interjected.

"I can vouch for him. This young gentleman can make good on what he promises, and I assure you he's a match for you," he said.

William's hands were trembling, and he thrust them into his pockets, as the men looked at one another doubtfully.

"And who might you be, sir?" one of them asked.

"Digby Kirkpatrick, recently returned from Italy, where I was tutor to the son of an Italian nobleman. I know William to be true to his word. Let him play – you'll see," Digby said.

The men smiled and shook their heads.

"Let him throw his money away if he wishes," one of them said, indicating the empty chair at the table.

William sat down, and a steward brought paper and ink for him to write his note of credit and sign. The others placed similar wagers on the table, and if he won, William knew he would have a small fortune such as he had never imagined. In the time it took to win a game of cards, he could amass more money than if he had worked for months as an apprentice. But William knew the risk, too, and as the first hand was dealt, he contemplated what losing would mean.

"Two jacks, two threes, a four, and a queen," one of the men, who had been introduced as Mr. Justice Peel, said, laying down his hand.

The others followed suit. William had been observing them. The Russian, Prince Kavragon, was a risk taker, whilst the Earl of Strathclyde kept his cards close to his chest. Lord Carlyle, and Lord Ponsonby were cautious, but William felt certain they held superior hands.

"A queen, a king, a jack, and a ten, the rest low," the prince said, laying down his hand.

The others glanced nervously at one another.

"All low," Lord Carlyle said, and others said the same.

Only William was left, and now he realized he had the winning hand. It had been easy – too easy. Luck had favoured him at first, but skill had brought reward, and now he placed his cards on the table, as the other men stared at him in astonishment.

"Two aces, two kings, two queens, two jacks, the rest high," he said, spreading out the cards.

Prince Kavragon banged his fist down angrily on the table.

"He wins," he exclaimed, and William reached out and pulled the pile of wagers towards him.

His own note of credit was worthless, of course, but the rest of the money totalled almost five hundred pounds. William had often heard his mother speak of the income of certain people in the village, and he knew this to be a remarkable sum of money.

"He can play cards, or so it seems," Lord Carlyle said, shaking his head.

"But I'm sure your good sirs won't stop there, will you?" Digby interjected.

He had been standing behind William for the duration of the game, watching his every move.

"I'm out, I'm afraid," Lord Carlyle said, for William's unexpected victory appeared to have unsettled him.

"As am I," the Earl of Strathclyde said, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet.

But Prince Kavragon laughed, taking out his pocketbook and placing large number of notes onto the table.

"A hundred pounds – each," he said, fixing William with a daring look.

Lord Ponsonby, too, added to the amount, as did Mr. Justice Peel. William would gladly have taken his winnings and left, but Digby his hand on his shoulder and nodded.

"You've already won almost five hundred pounds. Wagering a hundred – that's money you didn't have anyway. Why not do so?" he whispered.

Again, William felt he had no choice but to agree, and nodding, he pushed the wager to the centre of the table. The extraordinary victory – and its fallout – of the young gentleman had attracted the attention of others, and a small crowd had gathered in the anteroom to witness what happened next. Drinks were called for, and with the wagers placed, the hands were dealt. William took up his cards, realizing he had a poor hand, and calculating the odds of what the others held up, too.

One of them has two aces, and one has two jacks. I've got the tens, but I'd risk no one else having two of those, William thought to himself.

His strategy was simple, and as they played, he continued to calculate the odds as to who held which hand. It was not difficult for him, even as others would surely have struggled with the same task.

"An ace, a king, two tens," Prince Kavragon, said, smiling as he put down his hand.

William glanced at the others. One of them was bluffing. He had observed Mr. Justice Peel to be – despite the office he held – a liar, claiming cards when he did not possess them. That was the point of the game, to deceive, but the judge appeared to reveal it in his actions, whereas Prince Kavragon was far harder to read.

"I've only got lows, and a ten," Lord Ponsonby said, and Prince Kavragon smiled.

"You're bluffing," he said, glancing at William, who smiled.

"Actually, I'm not," he said, and laying down his cards, he revealed two aces, two queens, and no less than three kings.

No one else could now win, and Mr. Justice Peel threw his hand down with an angry exclamation.

"He's cheated," he said, pointing angrily at William, who shook his head.

"Don't be such a bad sport. I've been watching him the whole time, as have others. How could he possibly have cheated?" he asked, and the judge snarled.

"Well…he's…" he stammered, but there was no doubt as to William's victory.

He had won the card game fairly, and now he took the wagers from the centre of the table, smiling to himself, as he counted his winnings. In all, William had won almost a thousand pounds that evening – enough to live in considerable comfort for a year, let alone play the gentleman at the Charlton Lodge ball.

"We thank you, gentleman, for your kind hospitality," Digby said, placing his hand on William's shoulder.

William nodded. He was astounded by his victory, even as he wondered what it would mean for the future.

"Are we to assume the name of William Baker won't be one to forget?" Lord Carlyle asked, and Digby nodded.

"Quite right. Don't forget it, for I'm sure you'll part with more of your money, thanks to William's skill," he replied, and beckoning William to follow him, the two of them left the room, as an uproar now ensued.

On the stairs, William caught Digby's arm, astonished, and yet angry, at what had just occurred.

"What if my godfather finds out? Those men are bound to know him," he exclaimed, but Digby merely waved his hand dismissively.

"It hardly matters, does it? Do you think your godfather expects you to live the life of a cloistered nun in London? No, William – he knows what it's like to live the life of a gentlemen. I've no doubt he's sat around that table himself often enough – winning and losing," he replied.

William sighed. He was worried about the consequences, even as he could not help but think of the advantages his new skill conveyed. There would be no need of an apprenticeship if his luck at the card tables continued.

"I suppose… I did do rather well," William said, and Digby smiled.

"You did exceptionally well, and now we'll celebrate," he replied, calling for the steward and ordering dinner be served to them in the dining room immediately.