Chapter 6

William was in high spirits as he returned to The Spaniards Inn. He was pleased with the present he had bought for his mother, and glad to have been of assistance to the young lady, whose image was imprinted on his mind.

"She was ever so beautiful," he thought to himself, smiling at the thought of the baker's indignance.

A shilling for a loaf of bread was extortionate, and William was glad he had intervened to prevent her from falling into such a deception. But he felt a fool for not having pursued the acquaintance further – she had been charming, pretty, and intriguing.

"But in a city like this, how would I ever find her again?" William asked himself, fearing he had missed his chance.

The inn was busy, and William pushed his way forward to the counter, signalling for the innkeeper, who came over to him with a smile on his face.

"I trust you didn't get lost in the big city, sir," he said, and William shook his head.

"I managed quite well, I think," he replied, for his first foray alone had resulted in success.

"Something to eat, perhaps? There was a man asking after you earlier. He gave no name," the landlord said.

William was surprised. He knew no one in London – that was the purpose of his godfather's letter of introduction, but before he could reply, a voice behind him spoke.

"Ah, young man, I understand you've just arrived in London. Might I buy you a drink?" the man said, and William turned in surprise to find an older man, well-dressed, with white hair, and a smile on his face, holding out his hand.

William had never seen him before in his life, and he was somewhat taken aback by the fact of the man's familiarity.

"I…forgive me, sir. I believe you may be mistaking me for someone else," William said, but the man shook his head.

"William Baker? Or am I mistaken?" he asked.

Now, William really was taken aback, and he stared at the man in astonishment.

"That's right. I'm William Baker, but I'm afraid I don't know you, and if I should, I can only apologize," he said.

The man smiled.

"Forgive me, William. My name's Kirkpatrick, Digby Kirkpatrick," the man said.

William was still none the wiser, but he knew it was polite to shake the man's hand, even as the name was unfamiliar. He had never heard of anyone called Digby Kirkpatrick.

"I see…and you're visiting London, are you, sir?" William asked, as his new companion now signaled the landlord to bring them drinks and steered William towards a table at the far end of the taproom.

He seemed to have a permanent smile on his face, and looked at William with a familiarity William could not return. He was trying desperately to think of where he might have seen the man before, and why he should now be in the very inn where William himself was staying.

"I reside permanently in the capital, but forgive me, now we're sitting down and can enjoy some refreshment, let me explain a little about myself," the man said, as the landlord came over with their drinks.

"I feel I owe you an apology, sir, for not knowing who you are," William said, for he was feeling decidedly rude at continuing to draw a blank as to the man's identity.

"There's really no reason you should know me. I'm an associate of Professor Murray, your dear old tutor. I knew you were coming to London, and I thought I'd look you up. After a life spent in rural Lancashire, a big city like this could feel rather daunting. I've taken it on myself to be your guide and advisor whilst you're here. I place myself entirely at your disposal," the man said, affecting a flourish of his hand as he gave a curt bow whilst still seated.

A sense of relief came over William, as now he realized the connection between them. Professor Murray had associates all over the country, and he was forever writing letters to them. Digby Kirkpatrick was clearly one such associate, and William would be only too glad to allow the gentleman to do as he had offered. London was daunting, and if William was to find his feet, he would need all the help he could get.

"That's very kind of you, sir," William said, but the man shook his head.

"Nonsense, and you must call me Digby. I'm only too happy to help you. Have you got your letter of recommendation?" he asked, and William nodded.

The man seemed awfully well informed, but William knew Professor Murray had been excited at the prospect of William's journey to London, and it had been awfully kind of him to inform his acquaintance, and ask him to help. He took out the letter from his godfather, unfolding it to reveal the crest and seal of the Duke of Lancaster. Digby took it, nodding his head as he read through it.

"Yes, yes, this will do very well. You'll find yourself with introductions to every firm in London with this," he said, and William smiled.

"My godfather was very kind. He suggested I come to London, and he made all the arrangements for me, too. I'm to begin searching an apprenticeship – perhaps with a firm of lawyers or brokers," William replied.

He felt proud of his godfather's expectation and was determined to live up to it.

"Your…godfather, yes. The Duke of Lancaster? What an auspicious connection for a young man. You've been very fortunate," Digby said, smiling at William, as he handed back the folded letter.

William placed it safely in his pocket, and nodding, he took a sip of his drink – a pale ale, with a pleasant aftertaste.

"He's always shown a considerable interest in my welfare. It's because of him I found myself under the tutelage of Professor Murray. I might've gone to Oxford or Cambridge, but I don't seek a position in the Church, not now, at least, and London seemed to offer far better prospects," William said, smiling at Digby, who nodded.

"No, you'd be wasted in the Church – unless they made you Archbishop immediately. But a man determined to achieve his own success can make his fortune here in the golden mile, where the streets are paved with gold," Digby said, raising his glass in a toast.

There was an eccentricity to him, one William found endearing. He reminded William of Professor Murray himself, and William was only too glad to accept Digby's company for the evening.

"But what brought you to London?" William asked, for he realized he had spoken a great deal about himself but knew very little about the professor's friend.

"Oh, I've been here…some twenty years now. I'm a tutor myself, though my charge is growing up, and I fear I won't be of use to him much longer. That's why I feel it is my duty to assist you, William. I can be of some service to you, I'm sure. If you need a guide, I'm he. If you need social invitations, I have modest connections. If you require advice or information, I can furnish you with it in abundance. Use me as you will," he said, and again, he made a flourish with his hand and gave a curt bow.

William smiled, but he was grateful, and the two of them now toasted the beginnings of a fruitful relationship.

"To Professor Murray," William said, raising his glass.

"To dear old Willebrand – we were at Oxford together. But he was always far cleverer than I," Digby said, shaking his head and laughing.

"I'm sure you both have your respective talents. But tell me – if I am to ask for your advice – where might I enquire first in my search for an apprenticeship?" William asked.

He knew this was to be his first challenge, now he had arrived in London and found his lodgings. The letter in his pocket was a key. His Godfather had described it in just those terms.

"A key to unlock doors they would bar to you, William. But with my name to your association, you'll find yourself made welcome, and given opportunity," the duke had said, as he had pressed the letter of recommendation into William's hands.

"Ah, well, any number of places. But this is the golden mile, William. In the shadow of Saint Paul's, you'll find brokers and lawyers in abundance. We could try Taverners or Brookfields, if bookkeeping and finance are you intention, or Smithes and Roberts if you favor law. I'll accompany you, if you wish me to. I know all the firms," Digby said, and William could hardly believe the good fortune he had stumbled on.

"I wouldn't want to take up too much of your time, sir," William said, for he feared he was making an imposition of himself, but Digby waved his hand dismissively.

"Not at all, not at all – I'm delighted to meet you and make your acquaintance. My only charges amount to nothing – they're a considerable disappointment, in fact. But in you, I see potential, and the possibility of great things. Let me help you, William, for I wish for nothing more than to see you succeed," Digby replied.

William was flattered by the man's remarks, and grateful to Professor Murray for making their introduction. He felt certain Digby would be a useful companion in the coming days and weeks, and now they toasted their hope for success.

"I wonder, too, if…well, you might help me with introductions of a more personal nature," William said, for having drank several tankards of pale ale, he was becoming somewhat familiar with his new companion.

Digby smiled.

"A personal nature? Do you mean young ladies?" he asked, and William blushed, finding his thoughts unexpectedly turned to Anne.

But he did not only mean young ladies, but acquaintances in general. William wanted to make friends. He had struggled to do so in Lancashire. The village boys considered him a toff, a cut above the rest, because of his aristocratic connections, whilst the likes of Maximilian and other aristocratic youngsters looked down on him for not being like them at birth. William was neither one nor the other, and he had found solace in books, rather than the companionship of others.

"I mean…friends, that's all. I want to make friends with others, and London seems the perfect place to do so, don't you think?" William replied.

"And haven't you already made a friend in me?" Digby asked.

William nodded, smiling at his new companion, and raising his tankard of ale.

"I certainly have, and I'm very grateful too," he replied.

Digby clinked his own tankard to William's in a toast.

"I'll certainly make some introductions for you – not just in the world of business. You'll soon find yourself well-established, and I'm sure you'll make your mother very proud," he said.

"You know so much about me. Professor Murray must've told you a great deal," William said, for he was still surprised as to Digby's interest in him, and all the things he knew about him from just the professor's correspondence.

"I've made it my business to know you, William. You're a fine young man, or so the professor tells me. I know I can help you, and I'll only be glad to do so," Digby replied.

They sat a while longer, and William told his new friend all about his life in Lancashire before coming to London. Digby seemed particularly interested in the duke and duchess, and William was curious as to why he should wish to know so much about two distant aristocrats.

"They have a son, Maximilian, but he and I…well, we've never really got on," William admitted.

"I see, and did you know the Dowager at all?" Digby asked, pushing another drink towards William, who was now feeling decidedly light-headed.

"A little, yes. She was always kind to my mother. But she died several years ago," William replied.

"And your mother. She was a maid at the abbey, was she?" Digby asked.

William was now quite taken aback. Professor Murray had surely not communicated such detail, even in a thorough letter concerning William's own biography.

"How did you know that?" he asked, and Digby smiled.

"Oh…forgive me. I spent some time in Lancashire. It was a long time ago. But I assumed as much – your mother having a cottage on the estate," he said, and William nodded.

The cottages were for workers, and his mother had been given hers for service in the house as a maid, many years previously, before William was even born.

"Ah…I see, so…you know Burnley Abbey a little?" he asked, feeling a little confused, and Digby nodded.

"Oh, yes, I know it really quite well, and I've made it my business to continue to know it over the years. A fine house, indeed," Digby replied.

William was glad to find they had so much in common. He loved the abbey, and the two of them talked long into the night, sharing stories, as William told Digby all about himself.

"I'm really so very glad to have met you, sir," he said, as later on, he bid his new friend and companion goodnight.

"As am I, William, as am I. I'll call on you in the morning, and we can begin the search for your new employment," Digby said, and with a final flourish and bow, he bid William goodnight.

"You've certainly made a friend in your new companion," the landlord said, as he showed William up to bed by the light of an oil lamp.

"And I'm glad of it," William replied, for he felt certain Digby would be an asset in his search for a job, and in his desire to become a gentleman…