The Rake's Unveiling of Lady Belle

by Raven McAllan

  The decision was taken from her when a gust of wind told her the front door had been opened. With a devout prayer that Lovett was on his way, and Redding ready to do whatever was necessary at the door, she headed down the next flight of stairs in that direction.

  Three feet before she reached the open door that swayed back and forth in the night air, a large hump on the floor groaned and moved.

  Belinda stopped inches before she fell over it, and crouched down, surprised to see it was Darke who lay there groaning and clutching his arm, and swearing under his breath.

  ‘Darke, what on earth? What’s happened?’ Behind her there was the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs. ‘I thought it should be Redding. Where are you hurt?’

  ‘’Tis me arm, Madame. The b…blighter pinked me. Redding, he’s gone to do a job for the master and I held on ’a’til he got back.’

  ‘Pinked you?’ Belinda repeated in horror. ‘You’ve been stabbed? Who on earth by? Why? When?’ She stopped abruptly. None of that was as important as getting Darke somewhere she could see how bad his injury was. ‘Let me look.’

  ‘What’s going on, eh? Oh Lord above it’s Darke.’ Lovett, had reached them, and knelt down next to Belinda, huffing and puffing as he tried to catch his breath.

  ‘He’s been stabbed in the arm. I haven’t had a chance to see how badly. Or to find out what’s happened.’

  Darke spat into his hand in disgust. ‘One bloody thug asked me a question; the other came up from behind and hit me over the head. When I tried to stay up, and I dunno, mebbies get one in, he stabbed me. Mind you I did get a chunk of his hair.’ He opened his fist and showed the strands of almost white hair he clutched. ‘And I reckon I’d know the bugger if I got close to him again. Half his right ear was missing. Prob’ly bitten off and serves him right. Some idiot to do a job like this, though I reckon he and his sidekick thought the darkness would work for them. And come to think of it his muffler was up high until I got a hold of it and yanked it down. Ha, the moon came out, and I know what I saw.’ For a moment Darke’s voice was full of satisfaction, then he sighed, heavily. ‘To my shame, Madame, I reckon I was out for the count for a while. When I came to, I crawled inside and they jumped over me and fled. I’m sorry, ma’am, I was completely taken like a novice. Pathetic.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Belinda said astringently. ‘Two against one. Now if Lovett and I help you, can you stand and walk?’

  ‘Someone needs to tell his lordship,’ Darke said stubbornly.

  ‘I’ll get young Bobby from next door to pop round once we’re all locked up tidy,’ Lovett said. ‘But first we need to check you over.’

  ‘No point,’ Darke said wearily. ‘His lordship ain’t ’ere so we’ll have to get someone to follow him to wherever, like Redding’s doing I reckon, and let him know what’s gone on.’ He shook his head and winced. ‘And it’s nobbut a scratch.’

  ‘It’s bleeding like a stuck pig. It needs addressing,’ Belinda said stubbornly. ‘Mrs Lovett will see to it.’

  ‘What has gone on though?’ Darke asked. ‘It’s beyond me.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Belinda said in a shaky voice. ‘I meant to check. My creations.’ Belinda went inside, and ran to the sewing room. Everything appeared as it should be. The ghostly half-made-up ballgowns and gossamer night things, shrouded in thin material, were still on their hooks and hangers and her lace and rolls of silk ribbon were in their drawers. Her scissors and shears were neatly placed where she’d left them, and her pins and needles in the pincushion beside them. Moonlight glinted off the metal objects, and off…

  Belinda bent down and picked up a slim knife about three inches long and half an inch wide. The handle was bone and the blade thin, sharp and lethal.

  Strange. She turned it over in her hands, careful not to cut herself. What good was this? Unless to rip her half-made creations. Belinda double-checked as best she could without lighting a lamp and maybe warning anyone looking from outside that she was doing so. They seemed to be untouched.

  There was nothing else of value around. Belinda slipped the knife into the hidden pocket of her night-rail, locked the room up and slowly went back to the hallway where the front door was now closed. Darke sat on a settle with the newly arrived Mrs Lovett helping him out of his coat. Lovett was nowhere to be seen.

  Darke looked up at her, his eyes dark in his pale face. ‘Anything?’

  Belinda shook her head. ‘Nothing, except this.’ She produced the knife. ‘Presumably to shred something… What else do you think they were searching for? Money?’

  ‘Doubt it.’ Darke shook his head gingerly, and took the knife from her. ‘That’s a shiv, lethal they are. Proper instrument of the stews. I’ll let his lordship see it, if I may?’

  Belinda inclined her head. ‘Be my guest. So, your thoughts?’

  ‘Destruction and documents I dare say. I reckon they were after any documents, personal papers, like. That way they can find out all about you and work to undermine your position.’ He winced as Mrs L ripped his shirt from cuff to shoulder. ‘Or that’s what his lordship thought might happen.’

  Just as well she had her papers safely locked away hidden in her bedroom then, and the bulk of her money in Coutts. Maybe her papers need to be elsewhere?

  Lovett appeared from a side door. ‘That’s young Bobby on his way to let his lordship’s man know the reckoning. I can’t think there’s much else we can do.’

  ‘Except keep Darke here, so no one knows how well their plan worked.’ Belinda nibbled her lips as she thought what else was needed. ‘Who can we get to remain here on guard duty?’

  ‘Me,’ Lovett said flatly. ‘Me, and for us all to be vigilant.’

  She didn’t know what else to suggest.

  It was a long while before she slept. When she eventually woke up heavy-eyed and with a headache to make her want to hide under the covers, Belinda had to force herself out of bed. However, with two clients due, she couldn’t let herself be dragged down and worry about what might have been.

  Belinda rolled over, stretched and forced herself out of bed. She washed and dressed and realised that damned tingly ‘beware’ itch was still hovering over her.

  The news when she eventually sought out Mrs Lovett for tea and toast did nothing to help relieve her disquiet.

  ‘The man who’s gone to chase Redding sent a message back to say he caught up with Redding at Whiston, but his lordship wasn’t there. The upshot is that Redding’s on his way to Ottering where it seems his lordship had been called. He’s set off straight away, and taken that knife with him. There’s some sort of engraving in the handle none of us noticed and Redding thinks his lordship might be able to decipher it and that might help us find out who the bounder is.’ Mrs Lovett finally drew breath. ‘But Northumberland’s a fair ride, so it’ll be a while before his lordship can be informed. Redding said to say young Jem Weekes here will help out here while he’s away. Now stop fretting, sit quietly and break your fast. Worrying won’t bring his lordship back any quicker but it might stop you being alert.’ Mrs Lovett turned back to the stove and busied herself with stirring the contents of several pans.

  Belinda guessed she’d better give in with good grace. The young man in question stood up from his seat at Mrs Lovett’s kitchen table and bowed. He looked as if a puff of air would knock him over. Except for the fact his eyes were searching all the time and his stance watchful and wary, she would have worried about who was safekeeping whom. However, she had to trust Phillip’s men to know what they were doing. She smiled at Jem and waved him back to his seat.

  ‘Ah well, meanwhile we carry on as usual.’

  ‘Ha. Meanwhile we watch ourselves,’ Mrs L said in a sharp voice. ‘All of us. Do you think you should carry a pistol?’ She put her ladle down, turned around and cocked her head at Belinda. ‘Like this?’ She rummaged in her apron pocket and pulled out a gun.

  Belinda and Jem both ducked, and Jem carefully took the weapon from Mrs L.

  ‘If t
hat gets caught up in your apron material,’ he said patiently in the tone of one humouring his elders and betters, ‘it’d be your foot it hit not some other blighter’s.’

  ‘Well I’ll put it in a drawer then but Madame needs to have one handy, I reckon,’ Mrs L said stubbornly as Jem checked the pistol and handed it back to her. She placed it inside the table drawer.

  ‘Inside the salon?’ Belinda shook her head. ‘No I do not, nor in Mayfair or Knightsbridge. Can you imagine what would happen if that was found out?’

  ‘Then what do we do?’ Mrs L demanded. ‘His lordship would kill us all if something happened to you. I think I should hold on to the pistol.’ She went to open the drawer again. Jem stopped her with a smile.

  ‘Highly unlikely. And if you keep that gun on your person, you’ll be more than likely to kill yourself,’ Jem said. ‘However, we watch and wait. What else can we do, apart from business as usual?’

  Chapter Nine

  The midges were out in force as Phillip rode alongside the lake in the middle of Ottering Park, his Northumberland estate. Ottering was beautiful, except for the blighters. People might say they were only around for a few months of high summer at dawn or dusk, but here, where water and trees abounded, he reckoned there weren’t many days midge-free. Luckily it was only in this one small part of Ottering they gathered, and it wasn’t somewhere he needed to visit on a regular basis. But Keller, his factor, had particularly asked for his advice on where to coppice within the area and they’d spent several hours checking it out—and getting bitten.

  It had been a successful day and now he wanted a bath, followed by some of his housekeeper’s special liniment, which reduced the itching and swelling the insects had inflicted. Then a jug of ale, along with the pigeon pie his housekeeper had promised him, and a restful, lazy evening.

  Border, his big bay gelding, snorted and shook his head as they exited a cloud of midges and turned away from the water to head across open fields towards the house. As he rode, Phillip thought over the last few weeks.

  He’d expected to spend longer at Whiston, his smaller estate in Northamptonshire, but as at Kyle, all was well, and his factors exemplary. Then an urgent message from Keller over fences, cattle and rustlers had brought him north.

  The rustlers had turned out to be two youths from across the boarder, and a word in their father’s ear had stopped their escapades. Seeing it for what it was, high spirits and boredom, Phillip had offered them work at Ottering and been pleased with the way they were shaping up. Now with the coppicing decided it was time to do one last run-through with Keller and head south again.

  To Belinda.

  Phillip smiled wryly. Why had that thought popped into his head? Oh he wanted to see her, there was no doubt about that, and he worried about her and the Rosemary situation as well. However, with three of his best men taking care of her and the others, plus keeping watch on the salon, he shouldn’t worry over her.

  But he did.

  Border clattered into the stable yard and one of Phillip’s grooms came running out to greet them. Phillip swung down out of the saddle, slid his feet to the ground and nodded to the lad. ‘It’s all right, Robson, you carry on, and I’ll sort Border out.’

  ‘There’s someone to see you, my lord. From Lunnon. You need to go in straight away. I’ll look after Border.’ Robson took hold of the reins. ‘It’s urgent like.’

  Belinda. Phillip headed for the house at a run.

  ‘Where is he?’ He skidded through the kitchen and stopped dead when he saw Redding sitting at the table with a jug of ale and a plate of bread and cheese. ‘Redding. What on… Hellfire, Bel… Madame Belle—is she all right?’

  ‘She is, m’lord, but there’s dastardly goings-on at her place. And what a kerfuffle trying to get ahold of you. I’ve been all over the country chasing you.’ He took a long swallow of ale and sighed. ‘That fair hits the spot. Begging your pardon, my lord, but I seem to have scarcely stopped for days.’

  Phillip bit back his impatient, tell me now retort, and tempered it. ‘Tell me, please. Have you eaten? Bathed? Slept?’

  ‘I’m about to feed him and you, my lord. Pigeon pie like I said and a nice figgy pudding.’ Mrs Clamp, his housekeeper, stopped speaking and waved a wooden spoon in Phillip’s direction. ‘Young Redding here stuck his head under the pump to wash the road grime away. I suggest you do the same.’ She spoke with the familiarity of one who had known him since he was in leading reins. ‘Field and coppice grime is just as bad, and I don’t want bits of twigs and grass to litter my table.’ She thrust a towel at him. ‘Or to add to the flavour of my gravy. Here now, before you and Redding get stuck into the news and the food. You have five minutes. I’ll get a clean shirt brought down for you.’

  Why did all his staff treat him like one of their children?

  ‘After,’ he said implacably. ‘Food will keep; my worry won’t. Redding, come with me, please, and bring the ale.’ At least he could slake his thirst. ‘Mrs Clamp, hold back the food, please.’ He grabbed Redding’s arm and almost frogmarched him into the yard and to the pump.

  ‘Now, quickly, is she well?’

  ‘M’lord,’ Redding said urgently, ‘dastardly goings-on. It’s imperative we return to the capital with all haste.’ He pulled a knife out of his pocket and handed it over. ‘Someone broke in and left this as they made their escape.’

  ‘What?’ he roared the word. ‘Speak fast. Is anyone injured?’

  ‘Darke was stabbed, only a flesh wound, and I heard he was recovering before the messenger left town. As far as we know nothing was taken,’ Redding said rapidly. ‘However, I went straight to see Macsporran, to see if he could uncover anything.’

  A heavy lump settled in Phillip’s stomach, and his skin crawled. Combined with his midge bites it was a nauseating feeling.

  ‘Madame Belle?’ he asked and couldn’t keep the anxiety out of his voice. ‘You’re sure she’s not injured?’

  ‘She’s fine. Spitting feathers by all accounts, but no one was hurt except Darke. And he’s spitting feathers as well now, evidently. Disgusted someone got one up on him.’

  The lump subsided a little. ‘Macsporran is supposed to be one of the best inquiry agents around. Has he discovered anything?’

  ‘Not a thing, except…’ Redding paused.

  Phillip turned to see why he’d stopped. One of the grooms came across the yard at a fast pace and offered to work the pump. Phillip nodded his thanks and ducked his head under the running water. It was, as ever, icy cold and Phillip gasped as it went up his nose and into his ears. Maybe he should have a pump like that ready for whenever he was close to Belinda. It might cool him down somewhat.

  Perhaps it was as well they were interrupted. This news needed thinking about and a careful plan devised. The fewer people who knew the better. He flashed a warning look at Redding and composed his face into a tranquil expression. It wasn’t easy.

  Worried as he was, the thought made him open his mouth to chuckle. He spluttered instead as he choked on the water cascading over his scalp, face and shoulders.

  He moved back, away from the pump.

  ‘Enough, thank you,’ he said as he shook his head. Water went everywhere as he grabbed the towel Mrs Clamp had given him, and scrubbed at his hair.

  The groom jumped out of target and Phillip grinned. ‘Sorry, Freddie.’

  Freddie laughed. ‘Aye, better luck next time, my lord.’

  Thank goodness for staff whom you liked and got on with and vice versa.

  ‘Right let’s eat, plot, and then we can be on our way.’ He led the way back indoors and sat at the table.

  ‘That smells good.’

  ‘It was better ten minutes ago,’ Mrs Clamp grumbled. There was no heat in her words. ‘Now get it inside you, and don’t gobble it up. Indigestion won’t help things.’

  Phillip smiled. ‘Clampy, I love you.’

  ‘Get away with you and fill your stomach. I dare say you’ll need it.’ Mrs Clamp had been
his junior nursemaid, and he decided she sometimes still saw him as a mischievous four-year-old, who hid spiders in the sitting room and kept worms as pets. Truth be told, he loved it, and would do nothing to change that state. His stomach rumbled as the rich smell of pigeon pie and game gravy reached him. Mrs Clamp indicated a shirt hung over the back of a chair. ‘Dress, and eat.’ She put a large golden-crusted pie, with steam rising from the air holes in the top and an aroma so good it made his mouth water, in front of him. Then she handed him a knife and a spoon. ‘Time to do the honours.’

  Phillip put the utensils down on the table and pulled the shirt—one of his he noted, that was almost ready for the ragbag but was clean and ironed—over his head and took his seat.

  ‘M’lord,’ Redding said, urgently, as Phillip poured himself a tankard of ale and took a long swig. ‘We need to talk. It’s imperative we return to the capital with all haste.’

  ‘One moment.’ Phillip took up the knife, and split the crust open to let even more of the rich heady aroma surround them all, and then spooned meat, gravy and vegetables onto each plate before he added a slice of crust.

  ‘Then we need feeding to enable us to do so.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Mrs Clamp said firmly. ‘There’s no point in getting tummy ache over unpalatable facts, if that’s what the news is.’

  Phillip nodded. ‘You are as ever correct.’ He bowed his head and gave thanks for the food. ‘Let’s eat.’ Although he was indeed eager to find out the final part to Redding’s news, as they had been interrupted earlier, he did feel calmer knowing that Belinda was unharmed. He needed to feed his body so that he could feed his mind and help get to the bottom of this nasty business. The only noise in the room in the minutes that followed was the scraping of bowls and the odd request for bread or ale. Mrs Clamp soon began to clear the bowls away and then quickly returned with a steaming sponge pudding redolent of figs. She placed it in front of Phillip with some custard in a jug nearby. ‘Get this down you then plan away as I parcel up some food for the journey. If I know you, you’ll want to press on.’