Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
As I leave Clara sulking into her coffee and head for the stables, I once again mull over the notion that the mysterious highwaywoman has read my story. It’s the only explanation for her, as well as her partners, lying low. To be captured or even revealed would lead to her being hanged, and that would be most unfortunate. For her, of course. For me, I would have the greatest of stories and a deal with Fleming. I must be patient. That is all well and good, but sales are decreasing by the day and I’m feeling enormous pressure to maintain what my father and sister have built. Lord above, to lose the family fortunes? I break out in a sweat as I slip a boot into the stirrup and haul myself into the saddle.
I cannot say I am enjoying this side of being a businessman, I think, as I kick Figaro onward.
First job of the day is a meeting with Grant, who kindly informs me that only one of our outrageously expensive printing machines is in use again now, due to a further decrease in sales yesterday. Oh joy.
I reaffirm the need to keep this information from Papa for fear of distressing him. He has pretty much left me to run the business after a remarkable start, and I am running it into the ground.
‘Someone must have something of interest to report,’ I say, dropping into a chair in Grant’s office and scratching through the piles of papers. ‘Something other than the political and censored nonsense we must spew around the endless advertisements.’ My hands fall onto a piece of paper with a name I recognise. ‘What’s this?’ I ask, starting to read it as Grant comes over to see what I have found.
‘Oh, yes, we received news of that just yesterday, Mr Melrose, although much of it is unsubstantiated.’
‘Perhaps, but I know Mr Brummel to be in debt, as I heard it with my own ears from a man to whom he owes quite a substantial amount.’ Interesting. ‘So rumour has it he’s fled the country?’ I muse, nodding. It’s a shamefully underwhelming headline for tomorrow’s edition, but Mr Brummel, who also happens to be the Prince Regent’s closest friend, could owe much more than that he owes the tailor on Jermyn Street, and probably does. It is a matter of national service to enlighten the public, I think. Yes, it is, and while it is quite underwhelming for a headline, it does mean, with the absence of Mr Brummel, the top spot as London’s finest dandy is available. I smile to myself. ‘Run it,’ I say, handing the paper to Grant. ‘It’ll give me breathing space to get more material to continue my story.’
‘Sir, I think that may put us in the Prince Regent’s black books, as I know Brummel to be a very good friend of his.’
I scoff. ‘If the Prince liked him that much, Grant, he would have paid off his debts and saved him the potential humiliation of having to flee Lon …’ I trail off, something coming to me, something quite inconceivable.
‘Mr Melrose?’ Grant says. ‘Are you all right?’
‘You know, Grant, I think I am.’ I look at him, my mind spinning. ‘The Prince Regent hasn’t paid off Brummel’s debts because he has been drawing the bustle too freely and he too is cleaned out.’ The Prince is a notorious party-goer, lavishing money on endless soirées and luxuries. It has been rumoured for some time that he is spending more than he has. I grab a pen and start adding more words to the paper before handing it back to Grant. He reads it, and his eyes get progressively wider.
‘Mr Melrose, must I remind you the The London Times is the Prince’s favoured read?’
‘You need not, Grant. It is common knowledge, as was his friendship with that snake of a business partner Lymington who censored most political and religious reports in our newspaper to suit the agenda of the Prince, and I am sure he was compensated for that. But Lymington no longer has an interest in our newspaper, and I am not about to roll over and have my belly tickled by the Prince. What has he ever given us in return for supporting his leadership? It certainly isn’t money, for he has none! No, we shall print what we like, and I should like to inform the public that their regent is in quite deep, for it is the taxpayer’s money funding his lavish lifestyle, and we are taxpayers, Grant, as are our readers who have been hit with quite an eyewatering tax most recently on their choice of read.’ To think the Prince passed the newspaper tax bill – the nerve! And he expects us to continue dancing to his tune? Never. ‘Run it,’ I say again, getting up and leaving, feeling quite relieved to have found something to buy me some time.