The Poor Relation

by Bennett, Margaret

  But here too, Hannah supplied the answer. The abigail brought Chloe’s dinner tray adorned with a single white rose laying to one side and announced it had come from the Viscount.

  “He waylaid me in the hall and asked me how you was doing. Wanted to know what you’d been eating and if you was needing anything.”

  “You told him I was just fine, I hope?”

  “No, Missy, I didn’t. I told him you was white as a sheet, only nibbling at your food, and how I am right worried about you since I’ve never known you to stick to your bed one whole day, even when you had the ague.”

  It was useless to censure Hannah, for Chloe knew the henchwoman meant well and was as devoted to her as she was to Lady Milbanke.

  After a good night’s sleep, Chloe felt more herself the next morning. Bright sunshine streamed through the windows and she was anxious to be up. Dressing with care, hoping to give color to her countenance, she chose a bright cherry carriage gown with creamy ruffles of lace at the throat and wrists. After threading a ribbon through her hair and pinching her cheeks, she hurried down to breakfast.

  In the dining room, she found an unusual number of guests gathered for such an early hour. In between receiving sympathetic inquiries about her health, she learned that the ladies were making up for yesterday’s inclement weather by going to Tenterden that morning. While Lady Sarah encouraged Chloe to join the outing, Lady Edwina Reaves was uncharitable enough to scold Chloe for not taking precautions for her health. Completely ignoring the fact that the young woman’s indisposition had been cause by an accident, she castigated Chloe for leaving her bed too soon.

  “Heed me well, my dear Miss Woodforde,” Lady Reaves loudly prognosticated over her hot chocolate. “You can expect many more bedridden days if you do not heed the natural warnings of a genteel lady’s frail constitution.”

  Since her aunt was not present to take up for her and no one else seemed inclined to make further comments, Chloe expected Lady Reaves’s cautions would pass unnoticed until she caught the sarcastic lift of Camden’s eyebrow. He appeared ready to say something, but she shook her head to forestall him and, in return, received a conspiratorial wink. This byplay did not go unnoticed by Judith Palmer, however, and more than once Chloe was the recipient of the widow’s venomous eye.

  ~~~~~

  After breakfast, most of the ladies and gentlemen went about repairing their toilettes and gathering up their hats and outer garments. Camden used this time to retreat to the library to peruse the London Observer that had arrived in the morning post. Minutes later, a footman sought him out to deliver a note.

  “Begging your pardon, milord, but this came for you by way of one of the stable boys. Jim claims he got it from some cagey looking fellow who said it was real important.”

  Accepting the crinkled and smudged paper, Camden thanked the liveried servant, unconcerned over word of this peculiar communiqué being bandied about. Clairmont’s servants were not only cognizant but proud of their employer’s status in the government, and there were even those among their loyal numbers who were called upon from time to time to perform clandestine assignments for the Marquis.

  Quickly scanning Raikes’s scribble, Camden swore under his breath and nearly beat the footman to the door. At the stables, he prowled impatiently about while Brutus was being saddled, then set off at a fast trot down the drive for the main road. There, he encountered Raikes waiting on the verge, just beyond view of the gatehouse to intercept him.

  “Hold up, Gov,” called out the wiry agent, waving his arms to flag the Viscount down. “Ain’t no fire. With the hag that popinjay’s riding, he ain’t likely to get far.”

  “Have you any idea where Pearson’s headed?” asked Camden, keeping Brutus on a tight reign as the dancing stallion fought to get the bit between his teeth.

  “Could be Cranbrook. Seems one of them baubles, a sapphire and diamond pendant on a gold chain, showed up at the Golden Goose there the day ‘fore you got here. The gull-groper goes by Erasmus Demby. The way I figure it, Pearson’s making that way ‘cause he’s needing more of the ready to finance his departure from these parts.”

  “More than likely, and since I don’t want to draw attention to myself asking questions as I go, I’ll chance he’s headed for the pawnbroker. Even if he’s not, it won’t hurt to pay this Mr. Demby a call.”

  “No need to hurry ‘less you want Brutus to run Pearson over,” Raikes said with a smirk.

  Camden answered with a raised eyebrow and gave Brutus his head to take off at a gallop. He was glad of the opportunity to get away from the Court. Even though he didn’t expect to learn much since Pearson had slipped the leash, it felt good to be doing something other than playing up to Judith Palmer. That affair was over, yet the lady persisted in refusing to accept the inevitable by using the present situation to keep him by her. He reminded himself for perhaps the hundredth time that he need only put up with the widow’s antics for the duration of the farcical house party. Unbidden, a smile came to his lips with the thought of another pretty face. More and more, the sight of Miss Chloe Woodforde afforded him the only bright spot in his days. He remembered the intoxicating feel of her body as he’d carried her out of the woods. Then, just as suddenly, he mentally shook those thoughts from his mind. A forthright and wholesome damsel like Chloe Woodforde had never been nor would ever be for the likes of him.

  A short while later, Camden came upon the bustling small town of Cranbrook. He followed the High Street that climbed a gentle hill and was crammed on both sides with shops and houses, some having been built over two hundred years ago. A church up ahead marked a sudden turn in the road, and rounding the corner, Camden spied the periwinkle blue jacket of a dandy riding up ahead, and pulled Brutus up sharply.

  No, he was not mistaken, it was Pearson. Luck was with Camden, who watched Pearson dismount before a less than prosperous looking shop with the symbolic three golden balls painted on a sign with faded lettering, Golden Goose.

  Once Pearson entered the establishment, Camden rode for the old Tudor inn at the end of the street where he tossed the yard boy a coin, promising another if the lad walked Brutus to cool him down. Unhurriedly and careful to keep within the shadows of the buildings on the other side of the street, Camden ambled toward the Golden Goose. It was not long before the dandy emerged from the pawnshop, remounted and rode off. Wasting little time, Camden crossed the road and entered the pawnshop.

  The interior was small and cramped with several glass top cases pushed against dingy walls. A stout man, with heavy jowls and a greasy fringe of gray hair circling his otherwise bald head, sat in a chair behind a large desk in one corner. His eyes seemed almost to bulge from their sockets, much like a frog’s, and as they took in Camden’s measure, he heaved his considerable bulk up on his feet to greet his customer. “Good day to you, sir. And what may the Golden Goose do for you this morning?”

  Camden had no time for civility. “The gentleman who just left your shop, what was his business?”

  He’d not expected an answer yet was rewarded a visual one as the broker’s unctuous manner switched to one of open hostility. “Seeing as I run a respectable place, I suggest you state your business and be off.”

  Camden appeared unconcerned by the insult. Instead, he propped himself on the corner of the scarred oak desk, swinging his highly polished Hessian encased leg nonchalantly. “Sit down,” he ordered and indicated the man resume his seat with a wave of his hand. “And be so kind as to keep your hands on top of the desk.”

  His color rose, but Demby indicated he possessed an inkling of common sense by complying, though his movements were deliberately slow.

  “That’s better,” began Camden. “Now—Mr. Erasmus Demby, isn’t it?—to the business at hand. I believe you’ve had prior dealings with the gentleman who just left.”

  The broker protested with a shake of his head. “No, no, can’t say that I did.”

  Camden held up a hand to cut him off. “Your denial is useless fo
r I have it on first hand knowledge. During your last encounter, you relieved him of a comely gem, a sapphire and diamond pendant. What was it today?”

  “Now look here,” blustered Demby, coming to his feet. “There’s nothing to say I got to be answering any of your questions. Of course, if you’re desirous of purchasing the pendant--”

  “It is your choice. You can answer to me or the crown,” said Camden, ruthlessly overriding Demby’s objection. “Still, seeing as our Regent has a dim view of high treason, I should think you’d rather deal with me.”

  “Treason, you say?” The ruddy color drained from the broker’s fleshy cheeks, and he slowly sank down on the chair. “You mean that London swell’s a traitor? I swear to you, sir, I’d no notion of it,” he said, recovering enough to sit up straighter. He was ready to sing.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose a law abiding citizen like yourself would.”

  The irony of Camden’s words was lost on the broker, who went to pull something from the right pocket of his coat. His hand suddenly stilled, however, when Camden’s own hand reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small but very deadly looking derringer. Slowly, using two sausage fingers, Demby tugged a less than clean linen square from his pocket and, with a shaky hand, mopped the sweat beading on his brow.

  “Ah, I see we understand each other, Mr. Demby.” Camden laid the small gun on the desktop, within easy reach. “Now, what did our friend bring you this time?”

  “A watch, trifling piece really.” The pawnbroker’s voice had lost much of its gruffness, sounding more wheedling. Still, the gleam of hate in his bulging eyes would make any man cautious.

  “That just happened to be studded with a few trifling diamonds.” drawled Camden with a contemptuous eye on the rotund broker.

  Again Demby’s hand stilled but whether from Camden’s knowledge or fear, it was not clear. “He said he’d urgent need of the ready. Gaming debt, he claimed.”

  “And the last time, did he offer the same excuse?”

  “Yes, it appears your man must have the devil’s worst luck at cards.”

  “So it seems,” answered Camden with a knowing smile. “How much did you give him for the pendant and watch?” When the broker hesitated, he added, “May I remind you the crime is high treason, Mr. Demby. The government will confiscate the jewelry, but there’s a chance you’ll be compensated for your losses—if you cooperate fully.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, and who are you?” challenged Demby, possibly emboldened by losing a chance to turn a handsome profit, not to mention the substantial loss he faced. “I mean no offense, you understand, only that I ain’t one for making the same blunder twice,” he amended on a defensive note.

  Camden pierced him with a steely glare. “As our friend may contact you again, it might be healthier for you to remain in ignorance.” Again, noting the broker’s reluctance to empty his budget, Camden resorted to using the derringer. He picked the small gun up and hefted it several times in his right hand. “You have no choice. If you refuse to cooperate with me, you’ll find yourself thrown into Newgate.”

  “Now, I ain’t said I wasn’t willing to help.” Demby held both hands aloft. “’Tis natural that I’d want to know what I’ve gotten myself into, unknowingly, ‘course.”

  “Of course.” Camden’s tone, however, implied otherwise. “How much did you give him?”

  “Five hundred pounds for both.” At Camden’s raised eyebrow, Demby quickly added, “The pendant, them stones are far from first rate quality.”

  “No more?” Camden had no wish to argue their value. He merely wanted to determine Pearson’s present finances.

  “No, no, I swear, though the swell did his damndest to get me to up my price. But like I told him, I own a small establishment. Don’t keep funds on hand, not here in the backwaters of Kent. Where else could he go?”

  “Where else, indeed?” Camden knew the pawnbroker had the right of it. To get a fair price, Pearson would have to deal with a London jeweler. And a reputable one would have asked questions. Demby knew the gems were stolen and had simply turned a blind eye. No doubt Pearson willingly accepted such a paltry sum to ensure his passage across the Channel. The rest of the jewels would fetch a king’s ransom on the continent, enough to ensure a lavish life style for years to come.

  It took a bit more persuasion, involving a cuffed ear and a blow to the broker’s soft paunch before he gave up the gems. But all in all, Camden was pleased with the morning’s work.

  Camden left the Golden Goose with a final warning ringing in Mr. Erasmus Demby’s ear to keep his tongue between his teeth. He retrieved Brutus from the lad at the inn, giving him a generous tip, and headed due east out of town. Conscious that Pearson may be going in the same direction, he skirted the main roads, riding Brutus hard across fields, thinking to beat the dandy to Tenterden, thereby waylaying any suspicion about his absence.

  *** Chapter 7 ***

  By ten o’clock everyone who planned to join the excursion to Tenterden had gathered on the front terrace. Chloe had persuaded the dowager baroness to rise much earlier than her usual hour and so was on hand to board the landau with her niece, Lady Reaves and Sir Albert. Still, Lady Sophia was not above complaining about being mistreated.

  “What an unholy hour, Edwina,” grumbled Lady Sophia. “Only barbarians are likely to be up and about. And now I got my niece behind me prodding my backside as if I were a dairy cow.”

  “Come, come, my dear,” said Sir Albert, offering his arm to help the elderly baroness up the carriage steps. “Ain’t as bad as all that.”

  “Oh pooh!” scoffed Lady Sophia. “You’re no better, Morley, trying to rush me to my grave.”

  Her old friend accepted these aspersions with a chuckle and a shake of his gray head while seeing that the ladies were well situated. Lady Agatha Howard and Mrs. Palmer climbed into another carriage with the Marchioness and her daughter while the other gentlemen rode their mounts.

  The Viscount was nowhere in sight, however, apparently having elected not to make up one of the cavalcade though he’d offered no explanation to his host. Also conspicuously absent from the group was Leslie Pearson who, they were informed, had ridden out earlier that morning to attend an urgent matter of business.

  Mrs. Palmer did little to conceal her vexation over the Viscount’s defections and, without her beau, appeared unable to mix comfortably with the other ladies. But she soon found solace in directing her charms toward Monsieur Guyot and flirted outrageously with the Frenchman as he rode beside the landau.

  As the sun rose higher, so did everyone’s spirits. The thriving Kent countryside offered myriad sights of quaint hamlets and prosperous farms scattered among woodlands of strong oaks, beeches and chestnuts. Alongside hop gardens, oast houses dotted the landscape. These cone-shaped, brick structures with their distinctive white cowl tops were actually huge kilns used to dry the hops.

  Even traveling at a leisurely pace, the sightseers reached their destination by noon. Located not many miles from Clairmont Court, Tenterden was a bustling town of considerable size. The unusually wide main street, once an ancient market place of the early Anglo-Saxons crowded with stalls and cattle pens, offered wide green verges with brick houses set back on each side while side streets were lined with shops.

  At the Hare and Stag, a private parlor and several guest rooms had been reserved for their comfort. The Marquis’s party refreshed themselves with cool ales and ciders before lunching on prawns and avocado salad, roast lamb, pheasant casserole with apricot stuffing and raspberries and clotted cream. Afterwards, when the gentlemen hied off to parts unknown, the women strolled along the main street, giving their patronage to the modest shops.

  Chloe was more than content to browse the millinery and sweet shops and wander down the narrow lanes, seeking scarves, ribbons and other flippery. She purchased a light weight woolen shawl, refused a bonnet with an exceptionally broad poke Lady Sophia tried to press on her and found ribbons to refurbish one of her gown
s.

  Toward the end of the afternoon, Chloe was surprised when Mrs. Palmer chose to walk beside her, chatting airily about the sights of the ancient town. The widow looked exceedingly pretty dressed in a blue and white striped gown with her blond curls tucked under a wide brimmed bonnet. When the other ladies dashed inside a linen shop, Judith laid one dainty, kid gloved hand on Chloe’s arm to stay her from entering the shop.

  Closely regarding Chloe through artful blue eyes, Mrs. Palmer said, “I was sorry to hear you were indisposed yesterday, Miss Woodforde. Of course, when you keep such late hours, it is bound to affect your health.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Chloe asked innocently.

  “Oh, you need not worry. Your little secret is quite safe with me.” The widow’s gaze was more spiteful than friendly. “If I had not heard a noise, I would not have seen Oliver entering your room, carrying two glasses and a wine decanter. I do feel the need to caution you, however.” She flashed Chloe a knowing look. “For all his endearing qualities, dear Oliver is quite without scruples. He will deny ever being there, if anyone were to ask him, that is. Even if he were actually caught red handed in a compromising situation, Oliver would simply walk away, uncaring of the social scandal either to you or himself. And really, you must not lose sight of the fact that you are nothing more than a companion. He’d hardly choose someone of your station in life to be his viscountess.” She laughed lightly, then eyed Chloe from under long black lashes. “I am much more in his style, if you will excuse me for being so blunt. Anyway, you should know that Oliver and I have reached an understanding.”

  Chloe felt numb, her mind reeling with Mrs. Palmer’s revelations. Any other time, the woman’s candidness and innuendoes would have Chloe blushing, but the unexpected admission of an agreement between Viscount Camden and the widow had the adverse effect and left her speechless.