Douglas FitzJames Posted September 26, 2016 Share Posted September 26, 2016 Office of the Secretary of State for Scotland Inside the antechamber of the office sat a heavyset clerk, dressed finely as one of the gentry might. The clerk, one Aaron McAndrews by name, was a member of the gentry himself, holding the position of secretary to the Secretary. As such, he was more officious than most. His master was a tyrant and it bred small tyrannies. There was also a younger clerk at a smallish desk nearby. The Duke of Lauderdale saw whom he chose, and only whom he chose. Without an appointment, there was no hope of gaining entry to the duke himself. Those who gained admittance would find the duke seated behind a small elegant writing desk, in a small, but well-decorated office. Lauderdale was a difficult character, Douglas knew. He was also the most powerful man in Scotland. Whether his apparent disinterest at church had been a front to seem less connected to Dundarg, or whether whatever had caused him to send the note during recess was no longer an issue Douglas didn’t know, but he would at least endeavour to find out. If he could be of use to the man, there could be the potential for an angle into Scottish politics. He’d tried previously, done a little light work in the realm of keeping an ear to the ground and reporting on Scottish doings, nothing particularly consequential. He had yet to work out what exactly might appeal to Lauderdale. Perhaps the man would tell him. Nodding politely to the heavyset clerk at the desk, Douglas mused on the many layers of guardedness that surrounded the Duke of Lauderdale. “Baron Dundarg.” He announced himself to the clerk. “His Grace is expectin’ me.”* Subtitles * “Baron Dundarg. His Grace is expecting me.” Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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