“Cecil believes he can make other arrangements .”
“But my readers? I have a substantial group of loyal followers who would immediately identify a book written by another author as not being mine—it would not be what they expect from me .”
“I was thinking there might be a preface in the book explaining that you are going in a new direction with your writing .”
Dexter stood up and went over to a bookshelf. “You see these—the nine books that I have written? Each one a great labor of love. Each one a success, and I could show you the many admiring letters I get from my readers expressing the great pleasure and satisfaction they get from reading my humble offerings .”
“And that is why I am asking you to consider my offer—so that I might tap into that enthusiastic readership. And I will certainly make it worth your while financially. And you can still keep writing and publishing—only under another name .”
“But how will my readers find me ?”
“I believe Sir Cecil can help with that .”
Dexter came back to his chair and sat, but didn’t say anything. However, he was clearly mulling the offer over in his mind .
Finally, he said, “I am sorry My Lord. I just do not think that is a proposition that will work for me. I must honestly say I am a trifle set in my ways at my age and do not feel that I want to basically start over again building a new readership. I am afraid I must decline your most interesting and generous offer .”
Robert stood. “Then I thank you for your time, Mr. Cabot. And I wish you all the very best with your new book .”
*
S ir Cecil was waiting at his table in the large open dining room of his club, the Athenaeum , as Robert approached him—a few minutes late .
“Scotch?” Cecil asked as Robert sat .
Robert nodded and Cecil held up two fingers to the waiter who knew what he wanted .
“How did it go with Cabot ?”
“Disappointing, I am sad to say .”
“Ah… I thought as much. One of my least promising prospects for you .”
“Then why didn’t you say? Waste of a whole morning,” Robert said a bit testily .
“Because he has one of the largest readerships, and I thought if he went along, it would be a good base for you .”
The waiter brought the drinks .
“The Dover sole is especially good here today. Very fresh Stevens assures me,” Cecil suggested .
“With buttered potatoes and peas, if you please,” Robert instructed the waiter .
“I’ve sent your manuscript to the editors. Should have it back in a month or so. Hopefully, I can have galley proofs for you in another two or three .”
“Beastly slow process, is it not?” Robert complained .
Cecil wagged his head. “It is, but there is no rush. You do not have your surrogate author yet either. It will take some time to set up that whole process once you find the suitable candidate .”
Robert sighed, and took another swig of Scotch .”
“Who are you interviewing this afternoon?” Cecil asked .
“The second of the three names you gave me—Sir Reginald Burbidge .”
“Ah…” Sir Cecil said with a certain air of mystery .
“What does that Ah mean ?”
Sir Cecil smiled. “He is a bit of a character, but a cracking good author, and a good prospect. He might be just what you are looking for .”
*
R obert’s afternoon appointment was with the author of the moderately successful Thornton Abbey by Sir Reginald Burbidge—a tale of ghosts, mystery, and intrigue .
Sir Reginald lived in a splendid crescent house in Mayfair. Robert was greeted at the door by a butler and shown into a comfortable parlor with a warming fire .
“Sir Reginald will be with you shortly, Milord .”
“Thank you .”
The room was stately but somewhat lacking feminine charm. There were many shelves of books and a suit of armor and crossed pikes behind a shield above the fireplace. Robert speculated that Sir Reginald was most likely a bachelor .
“Welcome,” a voice rang out and Robert turned from studying the weapons to see Sir Reginald coming toward him .
They shook hands and Sir Reginald offered Robert a chair by the fire where there was a table set with tea service .
Robert never remembered meeting a man so tall and thin. He had his thin wispy, mouse-colored hair parted in the middle, and his gaunt face was sporting more of a beak than a nose. It was large but not wide, with a hook and a slight twist as though it might have been broken at some time in the past. However, Sir Reginald had an intelligent and piercing gaze and Robert knew he was dealing with a man to be reckoned with .
“Are you ex-military?” Robert asked with a nod toward the weapons ?
Sir Reginald laughed. “Oh, my good man, not at all. All of this rubbish is my father’s old swag. Fancied himself a mediaevalist. Collected all this rot to impress the ladies, don’t you know .”
“And what does your wife think about all of this? Certainly, she must wish for a softer touch to the décor .”
Sir Reginald gave a huffed laugh that was more like a bark and inclined his head to the side. “No wife. Not my cup of tea. My tastes run otherwise .”
“Oh…”
“Now then, about your letter,” Sir Reginald continued, “Most intriguing proposition. Are you serious about such an offer?” Sir Reginald asked as he poured two cups of tea. “Milk? Sugar? Lemon ?”
“Milk, no sugar .”
“As I like it too .”
“I most certainly am serious. I am not in a position where I can have my name attached to a publishing project of fiction and Sir Cecil suggested that you might be amenable to a project such as I outlined in my letter .”
“It certainly is worth a consideration .”
“Then you would be open to my proposal ?”
“And what are you offering in exchange .”
“Fifty percent of the royalties. And Sir Cecil says he can continue to publish your work under another name—details to be worked out between the two of you .”
“Hmm,” Sir Reginald crooned as he cast his eyes toward the ceiling to contemplate the arrangement .
He took another sip of tea, then put the cup down and folded his hands in his lap. “Yes, I believe we might come to an arrangement .”
“Excellent,” Robert said smiling and leaning forward in his chair .
“Except I want five thousand pounds up front and a seventy-five percent cut of the royalties .”
Robert collapsed back into the chair, stunned .
“I am afraid that is out of the question,” he responded. “I might consider your request for seventy-five percent, but five thousand pounds is an outrageous request .”
Sir Reginald held his gaze and tilted his head to the side. “However, that is my request. And the only deal I will allow .”
Robert was speechless. Certainly, it was an offer he could afford, but not one he could accept. “Don’t you think that is rather excessive for not providing anything but your name ?”
“Ah, but my name, my reputation, and my readers are all I have to offer—and they are exactly what you need .”