1816: the Grandest Tour

France: Chapter 3

George, Tobias, and Robert were liberally intrigued. They had all heard the name of this celebrated arbiter of men's fashion. The son of a rich commoner, he had risen to command the attention of practically every noteworthy member of the high society ton, most importantly the Prince Regent himself. He and the Prince had been warm friends for years, with the Royal Personage benefiting immensely from the Beau's sartorial advice. A few years back, however, they'd had a mysterious falling out. Brummell's lifestyle then led to a mountain of gambling debts, and he had just now taken refuge on the Continent from his creditors. All this was known to anyone who read the London papers, for whom such scandals were bread and butter.

"You weren't thinking to approach him, Hugh, were you?" said George.

Hugh looked frustrated and indecisive. "I would so much like... but how to do it without seeming abominably gauche?"

"He does look as though he rather wishes to be left alone..." Tobias offered cautiously.

"That old tosher dictated the Prince's wardrobe?" Robert said with a smirk. "I'd never have thought it!"

"Well he did," said Hugh, "and could easily do it again if he got back in favor. And if we wish to cut a figure in any of the royal courts of Europe, I feel he's just the man we should consult."

"Oh Hu – uh, Mr. de Mowbray –" Tobias stammered. "Do you really think we'll... the royal courts of Europe!" He trailed off, his face aglow at the fairytale prospect.

Hugh didn't seem to hear him, he was so intent on watching Mr. Brummell. Then he gave a stifled yelp and rasped:

"Look away you fools!"

Brummell peered quizzically at their table over his newspaper, apparently unsure if he'd been recognized. The four did their best to appear nonchalant and not at all aware of him, but it was too late. With a sour expression now Brummell gathered his things, put a franc on the table, and left the cafe. Hugh looked like he might bolt up and chase after the man, but calmer instincts prevailed.

"Perhaps we'll see him again before we leave," said George.

As they walked back to the hotel, their manservants a few steps behind, Hugh couldn't help but curse their luck that Brummell should have perceived them at just that instant.

"I swear to you, George, I was on the absolute cusp of inventing the perfect excuse to be introduced."

"But by whom?"

"By the waiter, the concierge, oh whomever, drat it!"

"I think I could arrange yer a meetin' sir."

The four stopped in their tracks and whirled around. Dick Blackford looked placidly back at Hugh, scratching his strong stubbly chin.

"You really think so, Dick?" said Robert to his man. "How do you reckon that?"

"I reckons I've got my ways and means, sir," said the West Country man, "iffin you're amenable to part with a couple of francs for incidental expenses."

"Nothing dishonorable, eh?" said Hugh.

"Never, sir."

"Content, my man!" said Hugh. "Here, do as you see fit," and he gave Dick a handful of French coins, then turned to his friend. "That is, if Robert is also amenable?"

Robert shrugged it was all the same to him. So they wandered back to their own recreation for the evening at the hotel, while Dick, taking Isaac with him, went back into town to make inquiries. The old sea-dog, they later learned, knew French as well as any of them.