The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [61]
Godfrey stared at him, frowning. ‘What note?’
Pyke produced a letter he had written earlier from under his pillow and handed it to his uncle. It read:
The prince will be hated if he is rapacious and aggressive with regard to property and the women of his subjects . . . He will be despised if he has a reputation for being fickle, frivolous, effeminate, cowardly, irresolute; a prince should avoid this like the plague and strive to demonstrate in his actions grandeur, courage, sobriety, strength.
Pyke had chosen not to sign it.
Scanning the note over Godfrey’s shoulder, he noticed that his handwriting was more ragged than usual. ‘You’ll see it gets to Peel himself? It has to be delivered to Peel in person.’
Godfrey took the envelope and said he would do his best. ‘I’m happy to do what I can to help, of course.’
Pyke eyed him carefully. ‘But?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing, dear boy. I suppose I’m just worried about the usual. Money, the state of my business . . .’
‘Your business has been suffering for the last twenty years.’
This seemed to pain Godfrey. ‘Quite so. But you see, dear boy, I have just been reading Vidocq’s memoirs. Now Vidocq is a quite reprehensible figure and, to my mind, all the better for it. I don’t imagine, for a second, he actually wrote the book himself and, in my opinion, that’s the problem. There’s something missing. Don’t get me wrong; the formula is the right one. Send a thief to catch a thief. But there’s still too much moralising. If those elements could only be harnessed to writing that had the courage of its own base convictions it really would be something . . .’
‘You know what I think about this, Godfrey.’
‘At least think about it. Like you just said, I haven’t published anything that’s worth a damn in over twenty years. The penny stories about ravaged virgins and demented monks are good fun - don’t get me wrong - but they won’t be read in a year’s time, let alone a hundred years’ time. I just think your story’s one that needs to be told. A simple man who’s doing what has to be done in order to . . .’
Pyke smiled. ‘Prosper?’
‘I was going to say survive or get by, but prosper works just as well.’
‘You think that I’m simple?’
‘Did I say simple?’ Godfrey feigned indignation.
‘What about ingenious?’ Pyke said, lightly.
Godfrey looked at him. ‘You do understand I’m talking about a creation.’
‘You don’t think I am?’
Godfrey studied him for a while. ‘You forget I know you as well as anyone, Pyke. I know for a fact that you can be a cold-hearted bastard . . .’
‘Is there a but?’
‘Would I be here if there wasn’t?’ He reached out and patted Pyke on the arm. ‘This creation. He would just be a larger-than-life version of you.’
‘A man without morals,’ Pyke said, still trying to make sense of his uncle’s comments.
‘He would have morals. The story wouldn’t. There’s a difference.’ Godfrey hesitated. ‘Will you at least think about it, dear boy?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Really?’ Godfrey stared at him through bushy eyebrows. ‘Actually, I met this chap the other day, a young shorthand reporter, rents an office close to mine, at number five Bell Yard. I happened to mention I was your uncle and he was keen to meet you; expressed a real interest in your case. I said I’d see what I could do. He’s a novelist with big ideas.’
‘Let’s just deal with the matters at hand for