From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 32)

I have never been one to leave a trail behind me, but there are times when it is necessary to give gifts. For a host, the most suitable recompense, I find, is to send a case of wine, slightly better than the ones served the event, after departure. Said case should come from a wine merchant of good repute. I keep accounts at several, which all link back to various identities I use. All nice and tidy, and easily attributed to agency expenses.

Very occasionally, one must give more personal gifts. Possibly a gentleman who is marrying, or who has a new-born or some other mark on the social calendar of life. In this instance, I prefer to give pens, or possibly a boxed special edition wine, if I doubt the literacy of the recipient. I do like to give something that will be valued and used. This is why I so rarely give books. Bertram Stapleford is the only man of my acquaintance to whom I might gift a first edition and know it would be appreciated. Although, if I wanted to give him a gift of real use, I should give a tome on how to better his chess game.

Now, ladies are a slightly different matter. If a lady has been a host, a rare occurrence, or in being co-host with her husband during a house party - and has obviously gone to some pains to ensure the well-being of her guests - then I tend to send flowers. They are showy, delightful, and there is always somewhere to put them in a grand house. But they also fade and are likewise forgotten. In the general way of things, I do not want to be remembered to a significant degree by anyone. Which is, of course, also the reason why I give gifts. Being ungrateful in a brash and vulgar manner is only acceptable from foreign royalty. Anyone else would be immortalised in gossip. Being politely unmemorable is a difficult line to walk.

Then there are the ladies with whom one has been more intimate, for professional reasons (what I do on my own time and with whom is no one’s business but my own). These women I will have known to varying degrees, and they will have presumed to know me. Naturally, they will only have known my alter egos, but even these prefer to operate in a chivalrous manner. A final gift, especially on a parting that I designed to seem necessary and no more wanted by myself than her, helps ease the surrendering of the relationship. In fact, if that parting gift shines and sparkles, I find it helps very much indeed to quell any tears. I am not a rogue, set on stealing hearts of virtuous gentlewomen. These ladies have either nothing but their desires to reproach themselves for or have always understood that whatever passed between us could not be of a permanent nature. In such circumstances I advise the purchase of antique jewellery, or at least jewellery that is several decades old. Not only does the treasury prefer these cheaper gifts - always charge everything to accounts or one might be seen as too personally involved in the intrigue - but one can pass them off as something from one’s late mother, or even grandmother, if absolutely necessary. Passing on what may be perceived as a family heirloom, providing (and I cannot overstate this necessity) it sparkles enough, only adds to the tenderness of the parting.

Also, the lady, if she has any sense, can avoid suspicion by claiming it to be an inherited heirloom of her own, from her deceased aunt or cousin.

Of course, when one is actually entangled with individuals, as I have come to be with the Stapleford’s, one may not charge any gifts to the agency’s accounts. This is of little issue for me as, apart from Griffin and Jack, I support no one but myself, and I have always been of sound financial situation. However, it does mean that one has to approach such gifts with genuine care and thought, which is really rather bothersome.