David Lord of Honor

Sixteen




“Zubbie’s a good sort,” Danny said, “but he’s only four, and little boys are bound to get into mischief at that age.”

How expertly he mimicked his father—his uncle.

“And how old would you be, Danny? Eight at least, I’d guess. Maybe even nine, judging from those muscles in your arms.”

Danny giggled from his perch on David’s shoulders, a sound that went wonderfully with the bustle and bonhomie of Tatt’s at midday. “I am five and a half, and soon I shall be six.”

“Why will you be six?” For that matter, why be twenty-eight?

“Six comes after five. You only get to be five for one year, and then you have to go to the next number. How old are you?”

Children were so patient with their elders. “Four thousand seven hundred eighty-two,” David replied, eyeing a chestnut mare. “How do you like the looks of this one?”

“Chestnut mare, better beware. She’s pretty. Zubbie would like her.”

“She isn’t for Zubbie. She would be for your Aunt Letty.”

Because the child was sitting on David’s shoulders, David experienced physically the tension that straightened the small spine and had the boy clutching David’s hair more tightly.

“Shall we watch her trot out?” David hefted the child off his shoulders and settled him on his hip, and sure enough, Danny’s expression was one of wary tension. “Danny, is something wrong?”

Danny shook his head, then buried his face against David’s neck.

“Well, let’s have a look at the mare, shall we?” They watched her walk, then trot up the aisle, and David liked what he saw. Her gaits were rhythmic, smooth, and relaxed, and the mare regarded the hubbub of the stables with placid condescension. She put David in mind of a more elegant version of his own mare, so he asked to have her saddled.

He sat Danny down on a pile of straw, while he tried the mare out himself. She was sound, patient, and every inch a lady. She responded to his aids with alacrity, and was as comfortable to sit as she had been to watch.

“Danny, lad,” David called to the child, “up you go. You tell me if your aunt would like her.”

Danny scrambled aboard and barely let David shorten the stirrups before he was off around the yard, posting the trot as if born knowing how.

A grizzled stable lad shook his head. “Them little ones. The horses just know…”

“Have you any ponies?” Because David had been little once long ago, and because back at Letty’s modest house, two adults needed time for a difficult conversation.

“Have we!” The man thwacked his cap against his thigh, which sent a nearby yearling dancing on the end of its lead rope. “The Quality is all leaving Town for summer, and we’ve ponies coming out our arse, pardon me language.”

“The boy is clearly well off the lead line,” David said as Danny guided the mare through a change of direction. “Show me what ponies you have that are safe both in harness and under saddle.”

Young Danny had fun with the mare, and the mare with him. They trotted every which way, halted, backed, trotted some more, and eventually came to stand right before David.

“She’s splendid,” the child cried, beaming. “Do I have to get off now?”

“You do,” David said, reaching up for him. “You think Aunt Letty will like her?” A cloud passed across the boy’s expression, so fleetingly that David would have missed it were he not watching closely.

“She will,” Danny said, watching as the mare was led away.

“But?”

“I know some things,” Danny said, looking abruptly sullen and mulish.

“Are they important things?” David asked, taking a seat on a saddle rack.

“They are secret things. Bad secrets.”

“And who,” David asked, not a murderous thought to be seen—on his face—“asked you to keep these secrets?”

“She didn’t ask me, she told me. If I tell, she’ll throw me on the rubbish heap.” He glanced around nervously, probably checking for a nearby rubbish heap.

“That does not sound like a very nice or fair thing to do to a fellow who isn’t even six yet,” David said, settling a hand on Danny’s bony little shoulder. “Do you want to tell the secrets, Danny?”


Danny nodded, staring down at the dirt floor, then rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “I mustn’t. She said.”

“Do you know, Danny”—David began to rub the child’s back in the same soothing circles he’d seen Banks use the night before—“a viscount is a very important fellow. We’re such important fellows that I’ve met the regent himself.”

“You’ve met Prinny? Oddsboddykins! Is he quite stout?”

“He’s very grand, and because the prince was once himself a little boy, he told me he takes a dim view of anybody who thinks they can toss little boys—English little boys, in particular—onto rubbish heaps, as do I.” The stable manager led up a Welsh pony gelding, but the beast was quite small, and David shook his head.

“I won’t get thrown on the rubbish heap if I don’t tell.”

“You won’t get thrown on the rubbish heap no matter what. I won’t have it, Danny, and I am a viscount.” For once, David could say that with relish. “The vicar would not hear of it either, nor would your aunt Letty. Not if you teased Zubbie, not if you said very bad words, not if you punched an old lady in the nose and knocked her into a hog wallow. Nobody is allowed to throw little boys onto the rubbish heap, particularly not little boys whom I happen to like.”

“But you’re not my papa,” Danny said in a miserable whisper.

David spoke very quietly, knowing the exact contour of a boy’s torment when his paternity was in doubt. “Who is your papa?”

Danny shook his head and buried his nose against David’s thigh. David scooped the child into his lap and felt the boy start to cry, felt the heat welling up from the small body, felt the tension, misery, and bewilderment overcoming the child’s fragile dignity. He wrapped his arms around Danny and prayed—honestly and sincerely prayed—for fortitude.

“Might I ask a favor of you, Master Banks?”

“What favor?” The child’s tone suggested important viscounts shouldn’t need favors from anybody.

“I know a young lady whose name is Rose, and she loves ponies. I was wondering if you’d try some of these ponies out and let me know if there are any you think she might like.”

“I get to ride them?” Danny asked, head coming up.

“You can’t ride all of them, or your papa will wonder where we are.” The cloud passed across Danny features again, but his attention was on the ponies lined up down the aisle.

“Select three.” David put the child down, though Rose had already chosen her steed—a gift from old Moreland, no less—and nobody and nothing would part her from Sir George.

An hour later, David had made his decision—decisions, rather—and he and Danny were on their way back to Letty’s house, Danny up before him on his gray mare.

“She’s bigger than Zubbie, even,” Danny marveled. “What’s her name?”

“Honey,” David said, patting the mare on the neck. “And she has to be big, because I’m big.”

“You’re as big as my pa—” Danny’s face fell and he went silent.

David spoke close the child’s ear. “I don’t know what your secrets are, because you haven’t said one word to me about them. But I do know Vicar Daniel loves you, and loves you and loves you. He would never toss you on the rubbish heap, and he would be exceedingly angry at anyone who did. You should tell him your secrets and let him help with this other person who is threatening such mean things.”

“But he’s not…” Danny fell silent again, a child struggling to explain the simplest logic to a thickheaded adult.

“Even if he isn’t,” David said firmly, “he is your vicar, and vicars protect the innocent and weak, like the sick people and the old people, and little boys who are being threatened. He loves you, and you can tell him. If you want me to, I’ll come with you.”

Danny twisted around in the saddle to peer at David.

“What if he gets mad?” Danny asked in a small voice. “She said he’d get mad, and then…”

“Then he’d throw you on the rubbish heap? My God, the nightmares you must have.”

But Danny had nodded and was looking to David for further reassurances.

“I will keep you safe, lad,” he said, tightening the arm he had around the child’s waist for emphasis. “No matter what, I will keep you safe. It’s what viscounts do.”

It’s what this viscount would do, and devil take the hindmost. Danny faced forward again and seemed lost in thought. As they turned onto Letty’s street, Danny whipped around and speared David with a look.

“You’ll come with me?”

“I shall.” David swung off, tossed the reins to the groom who had accompanied them to Tatt’s, and lifted the child from the saddle to his hip. “Do you want to tell him now?”

“Will Aunt Letty be there?”

“Do you want her to be there?”

“Aunt Letty is nice,” Danny said. “She loves me, and she’s my… he’s her brother.” Complicated business, indeed, from a small child’s perspective.

“So why don’t we ask Aunt Letty to join us?” David suggested as he climbed the steps. He didn’t knock on the door, but opened it as if he were family and hallooed in the entryway.

“We’re in here,” Letty said, emerging from the parlor. “How were the stables?”

She’d been crying, though she looked… not unhappy.

“Fun,” Danny murmured, again burying his nose against David’s neck.

Letty frowned at the child then at David. “Is somebody tired?”

Several somebodies were likely weary to death.

“Somebody,” David said, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “is burdened with secrets, but not for much longer. Is the vicar about?”

“Here,” Banks said, coming up behind Letty with a smile. “I smell the most wonderful perfume—like horses, only mixed with little boy. Did you see anything you liked, Danny?”

Danny wasn’t to be cajoled, and Banks shot David a perplexed look.

“Into the parlor, shall we?” David suggested. Letty and Banks followed him, both clearly puzzled by Danny’s behavior—and David’s. David sat in one of the rocking chairs, Danny in his lap, and set the chair in motion.

“Danny has matters to discuss, but first you must both promise him sincerely that you won’t be mad at him, and you won’t toss him on the rubbish heap, no matter what.”

“I promise,” Letty said instantly. Banks paused a moment though, waiting for the child’s eyes to meet his—probably a maneuver taught in vicar school.

“Danny,” he said, “I will not be angry with you, no matter what you tell me. And I would not toss you on the rubbish heap, or suffer anyone else to do that, no matter what. I promise. Do you believe me?”

He was good at being a vicar, at being a papa. And Banks was just plain good, as Letty was good.

As David himself could be good, when he tried very hard and didn’t own any brothels.

Danny returned Banks’s regard, looking very like him. “But you are not my papa.”

That was all he got out before bursting into tears and pitching against David’s chest. Banks fished out a handkerchief and hunkered beside the rocker, while Letty crouched on the other side, looking dumbstruck.

“Danny, hush,” Banks coaxed, taking the child from David’s arms. “I love you, Danny, that’s what matters. I love you.”

“But you’re not my papa!” the child wailed, clinging to Banks’s neck. “I haven’t a papa at all!”

While Banks slowly paced the room with the child in his arms, Letty rose, her movements burdened and creaky.

“Take it,” David said, shoving his handkerchief at her. He rose and kept an arm around her waist as Banks continue to try to reason with Danny.

Who was only becoming more and more upset.

***

A mother, a real mother who hadn’t abandoned her son to the care of a viper, would know what to do. Letty hadn’t the right to interfere between her brother and her son at that moment, and yet, she could not keep silent.

“Daniel Temperance Banks, hush before you scare my cat.” The heartrending sobs ceased, as both Danny and Daniel turned surprised expressions on Letty. “Thank you, that’s better. Gentlemen, if you’d have a seat.”

She put as much command into her tone as she dared, more than she’d ever used on David’s employees at The Pleasure House, more than she’d attempted on David himself. Almost as much as her own mother might have used when in a taking with her offspring.

And it worked. The Banks menfolk subsided, Daniel into a rocking chair, Danny to a corner of the sofa near Letty’s chair.

“Danny, listen to me: everybody has a papa. My own papa died before you were born. Lord Fairly’s papa is gone too. Your papa got sick and died, the same as my own mama and papa did. That’s all. It’s sad that your papa died before he could know you, but I’ve loved you since the day I knew God was sending you to us, and that’s what counts. So has Daniel.”

“But she said…” Danny sniffled, dragging a finger under his nose.


Letty shifted to the sofa and used David’s handkerchief to tidy up her son—another skill mothers laid claim to that Letty could apparently appropriate.

“Tell us,” Letty said, slipping an arm around the boy. “Tell us, because she’s far away, and the people who love you need to know what she said.”

“She said I was nobody’s, that I have no mama and no papa, and if I was bad, I’d end up like Malkin Tidebird.”

Even Letty had heard this tale of the boy from Little Weldon who’d been lost for weeks in London.

“Malkin’s family found him, didn’t they?” Daniel prompted. Across the room, David rocked slowly and petted the cat, who’d found its way to his lap.

“Nobody would look for me,” Danny protested. “I would have to eat garbage and I’d be cold and the rats would get me and I would die of an ague!”

“If you belonged to nobody,” Letty said, gathering the boy onto her lap, exactly where he should be, “then maybe those bad things might happen. But you belong to me, and to Daniel. You belong to the people who love you, and we will not let bad things happen, Danny. Even Zubbie loves you.” That merited a small smile from the child, at least.

“He’s always a good boy for me.”

“See?” Daniel gently poked the boy in the tummy, provoking a giggle. “Even a horse knows you’re lovable and special, and tries to get you to be his friend. I don’t want to hear any more talk about rubbish heaps, if you please.”

“But did you know her?” Danny prompted. “Before she died, did you know my real mother?”

Letty smoothed a hand over her son’s unruly dark hair. Perhaps in this one instance, Olivia had been attempting to be kind to the boy, offering a version of the truth, because the girl Letty had been—gullible, inexperienced, self-centered—she surely had died.

Though her maternal instincts were apparently alive and well. “Daniel, if you would please explain this to Danny?”

“That is an entirely different matter,” Daniel said, straightening his lapels as Letty had seen him do many times in the churchyard.

“You knew her?” Danny pressed.

“I am looking at her.”

Never had Letty loved her brother more, and yet, it was David’s steadying gaze, David’s slight smile that fortified her. Danny followed Daniel’s gaze, and his little eyes went round as comprehension dawned.

“Aunt Letty is my real mother?” he whispered.

“She is,” Daniel said. “She always has been, but she couldn’t always take care of you. That’s why she spent most of her visits with you, Danny, because she missed you so much.”

Danny pulled away to study his mother. “Why is Aunt Letty crying?”

“I can answer that,” Letty said. “I’m crying because I could not stay with you once you were no longer a baby. I’m crying because I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m crying because I have missed you every d-day since I left Little Weldon, and I’m crying because I’m happy for you to know the truth, even though it might be hard.”

The child looked bewildered, but Letty could only wipe at her cheeks and try not to hug the stuffing right out of him.

“She’s crying,” David said, “because she’s worried you will be angry with her. You are not the only one who’s been afraid of a trip to the rubbish heap.”

Danny was a bright child, and David had put the matter in terms he could understand.

“I’m not mad.”

“Good,” Daniel said as Letty tried to find a dry spot on the much-used handkerchief. “We’ll give your mama a chance to collect herself, then. But, Danny?”

Your mama. Letty nearly dissolved into outright sobs at two simple words.

“Yes, sir?”

“Were there any other secrets?”

“Just one. She said she was going to go away soon, and I wouldn’t know where to find her. But that wasn’t a bad secret. That was a good secret.”

“It was also the truth,” Daniel replied with a sardonic smile. “At least the part about her going away. She and I won’t be under the same roof anymore, Danny.”

“Good,” the boy replied firmly. “Is there any more chocolate?”

The question assured Letty that her son would weather these revelations well enough, in time.

“There is,” Letty said. “Would you like to come with me to the kitchen so we can see about getting you some?” Because she was his mama, and a mama could spoil her son in small ways whenever she pleased.

“Yes!” Danny bounced off her lap, grabbed Letty’s hand, and dragged her toward the door. David rose to meet them and put a staying hand on her arm.

He said nothing, merely kissed Letty’s cheek and winked, then shooed her into the front hall and closed the door.