Years.”
“South Africa?”
“And sundry other places the Imperium felt would benefit from us stamping our mark upon it. Especially if there were something valuable there to be stamped—gold, diamonds, rubies… those sorts of portable things.”
Fairfax looked amused. His mouth turned up at the corners and his eyes lightened with laughter. “Your cynicism is showing, Captain. I’m told the Imperium’s expansion is good for the national coffers.” He took a sip of his scotch. “I suppose that exchange of personal confidences was as far as we should go if we are not to breach Margrethe’s conventions.”
“I’d forgotten about that.”
And indeed I had. The hotel took privacy very seriously. Gentlemen were encouraged to talk, of course—in fact, most members, as I recalled, could talk the proverbial hind legs off an entire herd of donkeys without stopping to draw breath—but at Margrethe’s the conversation should be minimally personal. Houses and House politics, too, were not on the agenda. A man might wonder, of course, and if he knew anything of the Houses the mere name (supposing real names were given) would be enough to place his companion, but breaking the no-House-politics rule could cost a man his membership. It didn’t worry me, of course. I couldn’t ever envisage willingly talking about House Stravaigor. Any other topic of conversation was fair game. Except perhaps religion. That was as fraught a subject as politics.
Fairfax’s mouth twitched again. I liked the way the corner crinkled up in that half smile. “We could always talk about the theater, say, or the opera.”
“I do own an opera cloak,” I conceded. “Indeed, it’s hanging in the lobby cloakroom. But it’s as far as I go in that direction.”
This time Fairfax laughed out loud, throwing back his head and relaxing into his chair. Well, at least the man had a sense of humor. That was something. And it was reassuring he laughed when I wanted him to. Very reassuring. It was a nice laugh too.
“What about the theater?”
I had to grimace, and hoped it looked self-deprecating. “I’ve been away for years and back two days. The best I can offer you is that I read The Times this morning and could probably paraphrase the critics if I really tried.”
Fairfax shook his head. “That would never do. Look, I know it’s early, but why don’t we go and have dinner and you can tell me all about South Africa? I don’t mean the war or what happened, but about the place. I’ve never been so far south, although I know the northern end of Africa, the Mediterranean end, quite well. Aegypt and the Soudan, at least.”
“I believe wintering in Cairo is the fashionable thing to do.”
“So I’m told. I can tell you a little about Aegypt, if you like, and we can both then stay within the letter of Margrethe’s law while we get acquainted.”
That sounded like a plan. A good plan. I downed my scotch and rose. I moved my daisy and pinned it to my right lapel. I was no longer seeking company. I’d found it. “I’m told the venison is good tonight, but personally I can barely wait for dessert. I do hope you have a sweet tooth.”
Fairfax copied me and moved his daisy pin. “Best part of the meal,” he said, leading the way into the dining room, and grinned.
Chapter 6
D INNER AT Margrethe’s made my forced retirement and return to Londinium almost worthwhile. The fillet of venison—cooked with juniper in a jus of spiced wine with chestnuts and served with a vegetable chartreuse—was beyond admirable, matched only by Fairfax as a dinner companion and some very enjoyable conversation. The Château Margaux may have lubricated our discussion a little, of course, since it was a very fine wine. A very fine wine indeed.
Fairfax was an excellent listener while I told tales of both South Africa and the area in northern India where I’d been stationed, close to Lucknow. In return, Fairfax talked about Aegypt and the Soudan. It
“South Africa?”
“And sundry other places the Imperium felt would benefit from us stamping our mark upon it. Especially if there were something valuable there to be stamped—gold, diamonds, rubies… those sorts of portable things.”
Fairfax looked amused. His mouth turned up at the corners and his eyes lightened with laughter. “Your cynicism is showing, Captain. I’m told the Imperium’s expansion is good for the national coffers.” He took a sip of his scotch. “I suppose that exchange of personal confidences was as far as we should go if we are not to breach Margrethe’s conventions.”
“I’d forgotten about that.”
And indeed I had. The hotel took privacy very seriously. Gentlemen were encouraged to talk, of course—in fact, most members, as I recalled, could talk the proverbial hind legs off an entire herd of donkeys without stopping to draw breath—but at Margrethe’s the conversation should be minimally personal. Houses and House politics, too, were not on the agenda. A man might wonder, of course, and if he knew anything of the Houses the mere name (supposing real names were given) would be enough to place his companion, but breaking the no-House-politics rule could cost a man his membership. It didn’t worry me, of course. I couldn’t ever envisage willingly talking about House Stravaigor. Any other topic of conversation was fair game. Except perhaps religion. That was as fraught a subject as politics.
Fairfax’s mouth twitched again. I liked the way the corner crinkled up in that half smile. “We could always talk about the theater, say, or the opera.”
“I do own an opera cloak,” I conceded. “Indeed, it’s hanging in the lobby cloakroom. But it’s as far as I go in that direction.”
This time Fairfax laughed out loud, throwing back his head and relaxing into his chair. Well, at least the man had a sense of humor. That was something. And it was reassuring he laughed when I wanted him to. Very reassuring. It was a nice laugh too.
“What about the theater?”
I had to grimace, and hoped it looked self-deprecating. “I’ve been away for years and back two days. The best I can offer you is that I read The Times this morning and could probably paraphrase the critics if I really tried.”
Fairfax shook his head. “That would never do. Look, I know it’s early, but why don’t we go and have dinner and you can tell me all about South Africa? I don’t mean the war or what happened, but about the place. I’ve never been so far south, although I know the northern end of Africa, the Mediterranean end, quite well. Aegypt and the Soudan, at least.”
“I believe wintering in Cairo is the fashionable thing to do.”
“So I’m told. I can tell you a little about Aegypt, if you like, and we can both then stay within the letter of Margrethe’s law while we get acquainted.”
That sounded like a plan. A good plan. I downed my scotch and rose. I moved my daisy and pinned it to my right lapel. I was no longer seeking company. I’d found it. “I’m told the venison is good tonight, but personally I can barely wait for dessert. I do hope you have a sweet tooth.”
Fairfax copied me and moved his daisy pin. “Best part of the meal,” he said, leading the way into the dining room, and grinned.
Chapter 6
D INNER AT Margrethe’s made my forced retirement and return to Londinium almost worthwhile. The fillet of venison—cooked with juniper in a jus of spiced wine with chestnuts and served with a vegetable chartreuse—was beyond admirable, matched only by Fairfax as a dinner companion and some very enjoyable conversation. The Château Margaux may have lubricated our discussion a little, of course, since it was a very fine wine. A very fine wine indeed.
Fairfax was an excellent listener while I told tales of both South Africa and the area in northern India where I’d been stationed, close to Lucknow. In return, Fairfax talked about Aegypt and the Soudan. It
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