Chapter 3
Rebecca came by for a visit with a copy of a reference she had obtained for him. Phileas had not seen to this at all in the time he had been home. It had been a task he had not even wanted to think about. He had not expected Rebecca to make good on her offer to handle it for him.
When he saw who had written this first reference, he fervently wished she hadn't. "Why on earth did you ask Chatsworth to offer a reference?" He said, thinking his cousin had gone mad.
"Why not?" Rebecca said. "You and Sir Jonathan have known each other for years. I thought him a perfect choice to give an assessment of you."
"Rebecca, the man loathes me, and I him. It wouldn't surprise me if he were to tell Charles Anderson to remove his sister from my house with all due haste, just for spite."
"It can't be that bad," Rebecca assured him, chuckling at his discomfort. She gave him a peck on the cheek and headed to the parlor where Melody would be. The two women had become thick as thieves.
Phileas frowned at his cousin's back as she disappeared into the parlor. Having those two women become fast friends was a development making him ill at ease. What they could have in common was beyond him. Turning back to his desk, Phileas settled into the chair and tossed the envelope amongst the papers. He just stared at it for several minutes.
Jules quietly entered the room sometime later, finding Phileas intently frowning at his desk. "Bad news or a case of buyer's remorse," Jules teased.
Fogg looked up, giving a small chuckle. "A little of both, I expect. Rebecca has brought my first reference, proving my worthiness for Melody's hand… from Chatsworth."
Jules grimaced, just managing not to laugh. This wasn't a laughing matter. He had to provide a few of those for Honorine's family, too. "It can't be too bad, Fogg. You and Sir Jonathan have known each other for a long time. I'm sure he would give you a favorable telling, considering the purpose."
"I fear you have more faith in mankind than I do," Fogg said.
Jules grinned and picked up the envelope. "Shall I?"
"Go on," Fogg agreed.
Jules opened it and read.
Mr. Charles Anderson,
On your request for a reference concerning one Phileas Fogg living in London, England, I have known this man for over fifteen years. He is of a good family with a long very honorable record of service to the crown.
So far, so good, Phileas thought. The letter gave an abbreviated accounting of his service to the Queen, (the public version) but then it changed in tone.
On a personal note, however, I must caution you about allowing your sister to marry this man. In recent years, I have noted a singular lack of ambition in Mr. Fogg. He gave up a very promising career just as he was reaching its panicle and has since been living off an inheritance with no other visible means of support. While the Fogg estate is considerable, it may not outlast his par chant for gambling, aimless travel, and acquiring frivolous novelties such as a dirigible. I would personally consider Mr. Phileas Fogg a bad long-term risk for your sister's security.
Add to that, the man has a rather unstable temperament and a history of erratic behavior. I, in good conscience, must advise you to look elsewhere for your sister's future.
"Sincerely, Sir Jonathan Chatsworth," Jules finished.
The two men didn't say anything for some time.
Phileas picked up the letter after Jules laid it down to read Sir Jonathan's reference for himself. A sour scowl settled on his face as he let it drop from his hand into the wastebasket. It had been as bad as he had expected. The only thing the man had not added that he could was to call Phileas a drunkard and libertine.
"Thank you, Sir Jonathan Chatsworth," Phileas said as he retrieved the letter and tossed it into the fire. "If I am ever in need of a recommendation for Bedlam Hospital, I will call on you."