While they waited for the carriage to be retrieved from the mews and brought round, John pulled Archie away to have a furiously whispered conversation. Horatio turned his back to give the brothers further privacy, walking along the wall of paintings that graced the entry hall. They were hung close together, a mosaic of color high enough that many could only be appreciated from the stairs or second floor balcony.
By some trick of arch and stone, however, as he paused before a particularly fine oceanscape, Horatio realized that the conversation behind him was being carried to his ears.
"—mean to say you truly didn't get your paper from Captain Keene?"
Hornblower meant to step away before hearing more, but understanding John's question had him almost as aghast as the questioner. To be denied a certificate of good service meant Archie's time served on Justinian could not count toward the requirement of six years at sea, at least two as midshipman, needed to qualify for lieutenant. And worse the boy would have to explain the circumstances should Kennedy ever take the lieutenant's exam.
"I didn't, and I've heard enough of it from father, thank you, John."
Archie's brother ignored the quelling tone. "How could you not keep your head down for half a year? Under a captain as lax as Keene? No wonder father is beside himself. At least you were not disrated again…. Were you?"
Disrated? Kennedy had mentioned the demotion as a punishment, but Horatio hadn't realized the boy spoke from personal experience.
"No! And the Perseverance… was not my fault."
On Justinian, Archie was considered a troublemaker, Hornblower had been warned by Lt. Eccleston to keep his distance. But however much he wanted to lay that all at Simpson's feet, it seemed this was a pattern. Horatio couldn't help but fall back to concern about who his friend really was, and whether it was an association he should continue in their new post.
"It never is, Archie. I know… the fits."
Horatio couldn't help wincing at the resignation in John's voice. It is true that under some captains Kennedy's condition might be enough to be dismissed from service. But Archie had served months aboard Justinian, the malady surely known to the captain. It could not be the cause of Archie being denied a certificate. Had the incident he himself had witnessed, with Kennedy missing several watches through some combination of hurt and drink, provoked Captain Keene to deny Archie his papers? And if so, was the reason its recency, or because it was only the latest in a line of bad behavior too long to overlook?
"I don't want to talk about it. And I can't see that Justinian would be much to my service in any regard, John. It's six months I'm as happy to have forgotten." Kennedy's irritable snap was clear even in a whisper. "If it takes me longer to stand before the board, so be it. Indefatigable will be far more to my credit."
"But you must first be a credit to her, Archie." Horatio couldn't help a glance over at the brothers. John was laying a hand on Archie's shoulder, expression very serious. "Without your papers for a second time, this will be your last chance. I know that placing you under Pellew dearly cost father—"
"I never asked—" Archie forgot to whisper, and Horatio needed no help from the architecture to hear him.
"Anne did. She begged him to take you off Justinian." This stopped Archie. But any further explanation was cut by both brothers seeming to become aware of Hornblower's attention. Horatio, blushing, stepped farther down to the next fine painting, losing the chance at hearing anything else they said, until the footman came in to alert them to the arrival of the coach.
The trip to Brook's was at least too short to be awkward. Horatio sat beside Archie, looking out the cracks in the window, for the night was brisk enough to keep the flaps closed. With the obstructed view, it took him some minutes to realize that they were tracing much the same path as he and Anne had walked earlier. The club was on St. James' Street, half way between the bookstore and the park where they had lunched. Piccadilly was almost busier than it had been in the day, Though few respectable ladies were out, their number had been replaced by scores of gentleman of all ages, heading to coffee shops and bars and other gathering places. At the cross-streets, a species of women lingered that made Horatio uncomfortable to look at—Archie had no compunction, pushing the window coverings aside for a better view—as well as street vendors and disreputables in several flavors.
They did not stop until they reached the club, a fine three-story Georgian building in the Grecian style. A doorman in livery and a night watchman pacing back and forth kept the walk in front mostly clear of loiterers, but allowed them entrance without pause into the club. The boys were made to sign the guest entry book, before being shown into the tiled entry hall. Upon seeing its grand interior, Horatio felt even more out of place than in Portland Square.
The long, high-ceilinged, rectangular room was dominated by a carpeted stone staircase wrapping about to the first floor. Arched doorways led into more private rooms on either side, but the hall was clearly a gathering place. A fireplace at one end kept the room comfortable for the dozen or so men lounging elegantly on leather couches, or clustered at the foot of the stairs, talking. Many more were passing through on their way to the chambers above. Black-suited servants bustled, bringing drinks and carrying messages. Not a woman could be seen.
The members were a mixture of young men and those of middle years—few silver heads. They were alike in most other particulars from the richness of their dress to their school accents. Hornblower had gathered from the earl's comment that the membership of Brook's also tended to be more liberal, though he heard no political conversations at present. There were no other military men visible, and Horatio felt conspicuous in his midshipman's blue coat, Archie being still in civilian clothes. John Kennedy was comfortable enough, however, and made introductions to acquaintances without hesitation. Horatio's name, rank, and ship were offered up, together with Archie, whom John introduced as Alexander, despite the younger brother's glare.
After some minutes they repaired to the floor above, ascending the staircase along niches graced with marble copies of Greek and Roman statuary. Though not yet happy in these upper class environs, by the time they ventured into a grand barrel-vaulted great room, set up with card tables and much in use, Horatio admitted that this was a manner of society he might like to become accustomed to. Though John did not let them linger round the gaming tables, their destination was even more appealing, a series of rooms set with bookshelves and progressively fewer chairs in which to enjoy them. In the farthest room every seat was solitary and separate. John informed Horatio—for Archie had been to Brook's before and knew the rules—that there it was utterly forbidden to engage other patrons in conversation, short of fire or other imminent danger.
Grecian art and architecture, whist, books, and solitude, with no danger of females or unwanted conversation? With the addition only of a few more naval denizens it would be Horatio's idea of heaven. Archie was less enamored, but John ordered them drinks—beer, not spirits—and settled in one of the library rooms that did allow for some society, inviting them both to explore the shelves. Once Kennedy found a copy of the Canterbury Tales, the boy was more resigned to their evening. Naturally the lad insisted that Horatio read his Cicero on the same couch, he trying to improve his Latin while the imp next to him quietly chortled over the old English and read him the naughty bits whether he wanted to hear them or no. Given the proximity of Canterbury to his home, even Horatio was vaguely familiar with the stories though he had never troubled to decipher the originals. But when declaimed with enthusiasm and emotion, Kennedy's rich diction making the archaic language understandable, Horatio quickly was blushing and shocked.
His reactions encouraged Kennedy, of course, who only increased volume and gesticulated more vehemently. If he was treated to far more descriptions of men kissing bungholes, and lusty housewives fornicating in trees than he could ever have wanted, it was worth it to see Kennedy restored to irreverent glee. While out of favor and oppressed by Simpson's presence, and even at home still under Justinian's shadow in the form of fatherly disapproval, Horatio had forgot how charming and full of light his friend could be.
As he watched, Latin forgotten, Archie effortlessly gathered to their corner a set of gentleman looking to be entertained. With the lubrication of another round or two of drinks, and after their boisterous group had been discreetly exiled from the library to the ground floor's fireside couches, an impromptu dramatic reading was organized. Some of the other men took turns—even John consented to read some of the racier parts of the Reeve's tale, leering and exaggerating the odd vowels, and blustering through the tricky orthography with a vigor that suggested Archie wasn't the only Kennedy with a taste for theater. For all the man's measured and scholarly demeanor, and the peacekeeper role so often diplomatically adopted, John was really not so much older than Archie and himself.
If he had ever thought on it before, Horatio would have imagined that the famed London social clubs were deadly sober. Full of serious, important men locked in earnest conversation, plumes of cigar smoke around their heads like thoughts made visible, while glasses of aged port providing fortification. Listening to Kennedy guffawing as another man speaking falsetto took on the role of the Wife of Bath, Horatio sipped his beer, and was not disappointed by the reality.
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