The Heart of a Bluestocking

by Renée Dahlia

  ‘I’ll only be a moment,’ he said, and left the room in confident strides. She slumped back in the chair, resting her head on the back of it, staring up at the intricate plasterwork on the ceiling. What a completely unexpected person he was. To have achieved any position, let alone one with his own office, in a firm known for its exclusivity, he must be truly brilliant. She pressed her hands into her stomach against the nervous churn inside, and fiddled with the ribbon on her overskirt. It wasn’t often that she met someone who bantered with her on an equal footing. That must be the reason she felt off-centre just now. She just had to keep him at arm’s length while utilising his brain to solve her father’s problem. Surely all the years of keeping away fortune hunters would stand her in good stead now.

  Several minutes later, the door swung open, and Mr Howick strode in.

  ‘Shall we proceed to the Yard?’ he said.

  Claire leapt up and fluffed out her skirts. The latest fashions had rather ridiculous overskirts that twisted around and always ended up looking a touch silly after sitting down. She blew out a little breath to ease the odd rush that his presence sent across her skin. Never mind all these pesky reactions to him. She had a lawyer now. Mission accomplished.

  ‘Yes, let us proceed with haste,’ she said and paced past him out the door. The carpet muffled any noise, so she had to trust that he followed her. His voice rumbled behind her as he spoke to the clerk on the way out. She held her head up higher and walked out the door that Higgins held open for her, not waiting for Mr Howick. She marched down the front steps and waited on the street. The London stench was particularly pungent this summer, as the coal smog clung to the city without a breeze to blow it away, and she pinched her nose. A striking pair of black horses pulling a large four-person carriage came to a stop in front of her.

  ‘The firm keeps a growler hackney on retainer. It’s much cleaner, and more spacious than the standard one-horse hackney,’ he said, holding his hand out for her. She ignored his polite gesture and climbed the steps herself. After a moment, he joined her inside, and seated himself opposite her, facing backwards. Higgins climbed in and sat beside her facing forward, carrying her satchel, as usual.

  ‘One must keep up the expectations of one’s clients?’ she said.

  He nodded, a quiet smile resting on his lips. ‘As you say. Now, please outline the full details of Mr Carlingford’s case,’ he said.

  She shifted her knees sideways to give herself a bit more space away from him. Thanks to his height, his long legs took up much of the space inside the cab. She drew in a breath and caught that hint of hop flowers again.

  ‘The problem is that I know almost nothing at all,’ she said. She quickly outlined her father’s arrest, leaving out their argument about her leading the business. The last thing she wanted was for the world to know that she wasn’t just the daughter of one of the world’s richest tycoons, but that her father’s plans extended so that she might oversee all that money. It was bad enough being a target for fortune hunters when that wasn’t known. Thankfully, the recent Marriage Acts had ensured that she would retain her shares in the business, separate from any man she married. She had plenty of doubts about how that would work in practice, however, and that enhanced her personal need for caution. Luckily, because she had a brother, most people assumed that he would take over one day, and fortune hunters only assumed they would gain a financial advantage. The political power that came with heading Carlingford Enterprises had already made her brother, Wil, a target in the peerage’s marriage market. For several of the poorer titled estates, the prospect of missing a title didn’t matter if the Carlingford funds would replenish the family coffers.

  ‘I can see your thoughts racing. I can only help if you outline what you know,’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps we should clarify our positions, first?’ she said. To gain his position with Woodleyville, he must have dedicated a decade of hard work to that firm. And to abandon it all so suddenly for Carlingford Enterprises created a tingly worry in the corner of her brain. Had he made this decision purely because he was a fortune hunter?

  ‘You want a contract of work? That is sensible.’

  ‘Yes. Think of this from my point of view. You’ve essentially declared that you will abandon your loyalties to your firm to help my father, because of the loosely held reasoning that he’s made your clients rich.’

  ‘That about sums it up.’

  ‘What’s the advantage for you? Doesn’t Woodleyville pay you properly? Are you angling for financial favours from my father?’ said Claire.

  Mr Howick grinned that unnerving smile again.

  ‘Is everything about money when you are a Carlingford?’ He kept his gaze firmly on her. She wanted to roll her eyes at the assumption, but kept her focus firm. The air crackled between them.

  ‘No.’ She paused. ‘Yes.’ He simply raised his black eyebrows. She prepared herself to wait until he broke the silence. She didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘Excuse me. What precisely does that mean?’

  ‘Just as every lawyer likes precision, and to have all the little dots dotted, a Carlingford knows that not everything is about money. But when it comes to negotiation—’ She waved her hands before her, ‘—everything is about money.’

  ‘Is this where you ask me to name my price?’ he said.

  ‘I believe you lost the upper hand in any financial discussion when you agreed to help without naming a price, Mr Howick,’ she said.

  He chuckled. ‘Oh, you are good.’ A faint heat filled her cheeks. ‘Perhaps I just had ennui, and need a distraction from my ordinary barrister’s existence,’ he said.

  ‘In that case, you can assist us pro bono.’

  His chuckle became a laugh and those full, mobile lips danced.

  ‘Checkmate,’ he said. She grinned, but his next words wiped the grin away. ‘I might do this purely for the entertainment.’

  ‘I’m not here for your entertainment, Mr Howick. A simple fee will suffice.’

  ‘Shouldn’t I negotiate that with Mr Carlingford?’ She glared at him as the simple comment sucked all the joy out of this banter.

  ‘No. I am his representative. Get my father out of jail, and remove this idiotic charge of fraud. Do that and …’

  ‘You will set me up with my own legal offices.’

  ‘Yes—’ She drew the word out with a long upbeat to try and hide her surprise, ‘—with a brass plate and everything.’ He didn’t want to work in Woodleyville’s prestigious office? There was a story to be unearthed here, one that she shouldn’t want to know. Curse her curiosity.

  ‘On Chancery Lane? And with Carlingford Enterprises as a client?’ he asked.

  She nodded cautiously. Beside her, Higgins cleared his throat quietly. She ignored his gentle reminder as she searched for obvious loopholes. Nothing came to mind, and if this didn’t work out, she could bury him in trans-Atlantic taxation law, and the terms would technically be fulfilled.

  ‘You will have earned it if you can dismiss this charge of fraud,’ she said. He pressed his fingers to his lips with his hands in a steeple shape and stared at her. Oh, no. Her eyes widened. ‘He’s not guilty, that’s not what I meant.’ How did he get her scrambling so quickly? ‘It’s just that it’s a complex matter, and probably involves some espionage to determine who his real enemy is and what they want.’

  ‘Espionage? I won’t break the law.’

  ‘Because English law is so sacred to you?’

  ‘You can’t taunt me into that discussion. You don’t know me nearly well enough to make any assumptions about my loyalties to Queen and country.’

  ‘Except that you abandon your loyalty to Woodleyville on a whim, and now you’ve outed yourself as wanting to set-up in competition to your boss. Will you abandon Carlingford Enterprises as easily when a better offer comes?’

  ‘You think I am just here for myself,’ he said, his eyes opening a fraction wider.

  She shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. M
ost people seek self-advantage in negotiations.’

  ‘You are so cynical for someone so young.’

  She raised one eyebrow.

  ‘You are a lawyer. It’s literally your job to be cynical.’ The hackney cab stopped. Mr Howick uncrossed his long legs.

  ‘Time to go. Let’s release Mr Carlingford from the long tentacles of justice,’ he said with a half-grin.

  ‘You are mocking me?’ Her chin lowered.

  ‘It’s only fair. You have mocked me, and my profession, for the majority of this short trip.’ And with that he opened the door and stepped out, leaving her to gape after him. He unsettled her with his shifting ideas, and she shrank back in the seat with her fingers pressed to her temples. She couldn’t decide if he was on her side, or not. Was this a dangerous decision?

  ‘Are you coming?’ He poked his head through the door and held his hand out for her.

  ‘Ignore him. We must do this for Mr Carlingford,’ whispered Higgins. She stood up and shook out her skirts.

  ‘I don’t require your assistance,’ she said to Mr Howick, in her most haughty voice. She needed to create space between them, even though his offered hand was oddly tempting. He shifted away, and she stepped down the unfolded steps to the street.

  Chapter 3

  Ravi paused outside Scotland Yard as Dr Carlingford marched ahead of him with her footman one step behind her. She had so much energy and passion, he couldn’t help but be drawn to her, as the air virtually radiated in waves of power around her. And it wasn’t like she was drop-dead beautiful, either. He couldn’t quite figure it out. Watching her created a slow burn inside him. She was of medium height, had a plain face with a mouth that was too wide, and lips that were continually in action. When she spoke, her features came alive with energy. Her wide, full mouth said outrageous things—all the things he wanted to be able to say—no wonder she fascinated him. Weak sunlight filtered through the smoke-clouded sky, creating a halo of light around her hair. The light created glints of gold among her light brown hair, and when she turned back towards him, the gold reflected in her eyes. Amber brown with streaks of yellow gold. No wonder she wore a gold necklace, as the jewel tone emphasised her eyes.

  ‘Come along. You have a job to do,’ she said. She managed to portray the sense that she had her hands impatiently on her hips, although she stood elegantly posed in the arched doorway. He bounded towards her, unable to stop a grin breaking out. He pulled his glasses from his jacket pocket, gave them a quick clean, and placed them on his face.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ he said as he pushed open the door. It had been a while since he last had to come here to help out one of his clients. The wooden reception bench was unchanged, however, a new large map of London now graced the wall behind the officers at the front desk with the new tube stations of the Metropolitan Line outlined neatly.

  ‘Excuse me, my name is Mr Howick,’ he said. ‘And I’d like to see the officer in charge of the Carlingford case.’

  ‘I hope you are treating Mr Carlingford with utmost care,’ said Dr Carlingford. The young officer sneered at them both.

  ‘This isn’t the circus. You can’t just come in here and demand to see people,’ he said.

  ‘I am Mr Carlingford’s lawyer.’

  ‘And I am the King of Spain,’ said the officer. ‘If you are done wasting my time …’

  ‘We are not finished here. And we won’t leave until we see the person we need,’ said Dr Carlingford.

  ‘Oh look, it’s one of those outspoken women. An insufferable suffragette. We have a cell just for the likes of you,’ said the officer.

  Ravi cleared his throat. Trust his luck to get one of the new recruits with a head full of power. Dr Carlingford vibrated with rage beside him. He brushed his hand against hers, a gesture that felt way too intimate as he touched the soft satin of her glove, and he snatched his hand away.

  ‘Sir. You must be new to the Yard. I suggest you put your attitude back in your little pocket and get Officer Wedsley,’ he said quickly.

  ‘Is there a problem here?’ An older officer joined the conversation, and Ravi let out a small sigh of thanks.

  ‘He says he is Mr Carlingford’s lawyer,’ the younger officer said with a raucous laugh.

  ‘I imagine he is correct in that notion,’ said the older officer. ‘Good morning, Mr Howick.’

  ‘Good morning, Officer Richards. I see the latest recruits have yet to complete their education into the grand diversity of life in London.’

  Dr Carlingford chuckled quietly beside him, the sound warming his chest.

  ‘Which peer are we bailing out today?’ said Officer Richards.

  ‘None. I’m here to represent Mr Carlingford. Do you know who has his case?’

  ‘Oh, the Carlingford case. Well, that one has everyone talking. It’s gone direct to Commander-in-Chief Hepelthwaite.’

  ‘But I understood that it’s a simple fraud case. Surely it doesn’t require such a high level?’

  ‘The Yard are rather touchy over matters concerning the turf, and this is a big one,’ said Officer Richards. Ravi nodded slowly as the case was unveiled. No wonder Dr Carlingford had hinted that it wouldn’t be simple. ‘Should I take you through to him?’

  ‘Yes, please. Come along, Dr Carlingford,’ said Ravi.

  ‘You’ll have to leave your lovely guest here. No women allowed.’

  ‘Surely you can make an exception in this case. This is the daughter of the accused.’

  ‘Rules are rules, I’m afraid. Miss Carlingford will have to wait.’

  Ravi turned towards Dr Carlingford expecting to see her fuming with rage. However, he almost stepped backwards as she stood there with an expression of resignation. He raised his eyebrows in query. She responded with a tiny shift of one shoulder.

  ‘Rules are rules, Mr Howick. I will take my fragile feminine brain and wait over here. Please do ensure you apply that legal degree with utmost care to my father’s case. Come along, Higgins. Let’s take a seat over here.’ She spoke quietly, her words embalmed with a calmness at odds with the sneer in her words.

  ‘That’s the spirit, Miss Carlingford,’ said Officer Richards.

  Ravi chuckled inside as her only response was to lift her nose slightly. He got the feeling that someone was going to hear about this later, and he wanted it to be him.

  ‘This way, Mr Howick,’ concluded Officer Richards, ignoring Dr Carlingford completely. Ravi nodded once to her, then followed the officer towards the door at the end of the room that led to the interviewing rooms.

  ‘Yes, Richards?’ Commander Hepelthwaite spoke with the cultured accents expected of a Baron’s son, although his bushy moustache did muffle his words a fraction. Hepelthwaite sat behind a frugal wooden desk with piles of paper neatly stashed on the desk, and in piles around the clean and functional room.

  ‘Mr Howick has taken the Carlingford case,’ said Richards.

  ‘Good day, Howick. Richards, could you get Wedsley? Thank you,’ said Commander Hepelthwaite. Richards left the office, and Hepelthwaite stuck out his hand for Ravi to shake. ‘Bored with the antics of young peers, are you? And how is your illustrious brother?’

  Ravi ignored the first question. ‘He is fine, sir.’

  ‘Excellent. Most excellent. His continued support in Lords is highly appreciated.’

  ‘I will pass that on,’ said Ravi. He grinned internally at Dr Carlingford’s earlier comment about second sons, and wanted to see her reaction when she discovered the truth about his older brother, Lord Dalhinge.

  ‘I expect you want to hear all the details of the Carlingford case?’ said Hepelthwaite.

  ‘That would be rather helpful to my client, sir.’

  ‘We will wait until Wedsley gets here. He’s my most promising young detective, and knows all the intricacies of this case. Do you know much about the original Turf scam that led to the set-up of the Criminal Investigation Department?’

  ‘No, sir. That was before my time,’ said Ravi.
>
  ‘Of course. I forgot how young you are. It was a dirty business. It was a decade ago, 1877, you must have been only in school?’

  ‘I was twenty, part way through my degree, sir.’

  ‘Right, well, a lawyer brought a Turf betting scam to the notice of the Yard. You know, one of those betting schemes where people pay into an account, and initially get huge payouts from bets supposedly placed. Then the people continue to pay in greater and greater sums, but no more payouts come. The trick of this one was to scam people in Paris with betting on races at lowly meetings in England. Easy enough to fudge the results.’ Ravi nodded. He could see how that would work in practice, as devious as it was. ‘The real problem came when we tried to arrest the culprits. The Yard knew early on who they were—a Mr Benson and Mr Kurr—but eventually, it was uncovered that they were getting tipoffs from an internal source at the Yard. A bad, bad business. Three inspectors stood trial for corruption, and the CID was born out of that disaster.’

  ‘And because the Carlingford case hints at being involved in horse racing, your detectives have pounced?’ said Ravi.

  ‘There is no hint here, boy. Carlingford set-up a fake race meeting and won huge—simply huge—bets on the results.’ Ravi hoped his poker face was on point. Surely Carlingford didn’t need the money. Hepelthwaite appeared to be waiting for his response.

  ‘Fascinating. While we wait, is there any message I can pass on to Lord Dalhinge for you?’ he said in an obvious misdirection.

  ‘How kind of you. Yes, I’d love to meet before the next sitting in regards to the next draft of the repeal to the Statute Law Act,’ said Hepelthwaite. A short knock preceded Officer Wedsley who walked into Hepelthwaite’s office with a large bundle of papers in his hands. ‘Ahh, Wedsley. This here is Mr Howick, who has been granted the unenviable task of defending Carlingford.’

  ‘Yes, we have met before. Don’t you usually deal with the misbegotten deeds of the wealthy youth?’ said Wedsley with a cold smile.

  Ravi nodded. He had the patience of a saint to hear this daft joke about his clients from every single officer, every single time he came here. And the implication that he was one of the peerage but not really one of them at all. Part peer, part servant, at least in their eyes. His nostrils flared as Wedsley sat down and fluffed with his pile of papers.