Untitled

by Wendy Bayne

  Aunt Mary choked on her tea. “You mean, excuse me, are you saying that your parlour maid and Samuel’s valet are common thieves!”

  Father laughed. “Not so very common, Lady Alford.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Colin, stop calling me Lady Alford. I’m your aunt by marriage, you might as well address me as such. But please continue, you were saying that they’re not so very common.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Aunt Mary.” She smiled over her tea cup as she took a sip. “They both entered my employ after trying to rob me in the street outside my lodgings in Brussels. The bulk of the army had moved on by then which meant Dalton and Lettie’s opportunity for profit had as well. Dalton didn’t want to take his sister onto a battlefield, he apparently had scruples about thieving off the dead. Once we had them cleaned up and fed regularly they proved to be exceptional mimics and picked up their new duties with very little effort.” He sipped his tea to let that point sink in. Before continuing, Mother handed him a generous portion of seed cake. “In fact, Lady—I mean Aunt Mary, none of my staff have come to me as you see them today. The bulk of them have what you would call unusual pasts that were a result of necessity, not desire. It has taken Samuel and I considerable time to assemble them. They are not simply my household staff, they are also my business associates. It makes me far more effective in my position as Sir Thomas’s agent that I can maintain a level of secrecy and anonymity by utilizing my own staff and working from my home is better than working out of a Ministry office.”

  Aunt Mary took a deep breath before saying, “Am I to understand that all of the staff in your employ are reformed criminals and that you, in fact, are a spy?”

  He bristled slightly. “I am an intelligence officer, Aunt Mary, and not all of the people in my employ are former criminals.” Smirking, he continued, “Some were soldiers that left the military to enter my employ. Some are disadvantaged individuals that had few prospects of their own but are highly intelligent, so they serve in various capacities inside and outside of our home. My man of business for instance is a Cambridge graduate whose family is impoverished, his father is dead and he supports his younger sister and mother. He’s also a consummate forger which was how he paid for his education. Clarissa’s French tutor is a young lady from France who lost her parents when their estate was confiscated by Napoleon’s forces. She barely escaped with her life after being assaulted outside of the bawdy house where she had taken refuge working as a seamstress. Samuel found her in a nearby alley, he’d chased her attackers, but she was unconscious, and the madam of the house didn’t want to continue housing her. When she had recovered, she had nowhere to go so we brought her back to England. Sir Thomas recruited her and had us set her up here in London as a teacher before we returned to the continent.” He paused, seemingly to consider if he should elaborate. “Samuel has formed an attachment for her and is very protective of Mademoiselle Michaud.” Aunt Mary arched her brows, opened her mouth to say something, but Father put up his hand to stop her. “She has her own apartments nearby here where she teaches French to genteel young ladies that are both English and foreign. In fact, the Crown pays for her accommodations, she in turn uses her talents to obtain information from those same young ladies and their mamas. It’s amazing what men will say in front of women and children, giving them no credit for retaining let alone understanding what they’ve heard.”

  Aunt Mary frowned. “I’m not exactly sure how I feel about all this, Colin. Especially this Mademoiselle Michaud and the influence she could possibly have on Clarissa.” She clasped her hands against her chest and continued, “A bawdy house, you say? I suppose you know what you’re doing.” She relaxed her hands and her face was placid once again. “I must give you credit, though from what I have seen so far your staff are extremely efficient.” Aunt Mary selected a scone from the plate and took a small bite. I had finished my second piece of seed cake and was reaching for a third when my mother shook her head at me and nodded at my father, so I passed him the plate, it seemed like me seed cake was one of his favourites.

  Father thanked me then addressed Aunt Mary. “I hope that you’ll find my staff not only versatile but reliable as well, Aunt Mary.”

  Aunt Mary settled back into her seat again. “My dear boy, I intend to get to know all of them much better.” She looked pointedly at both my parents in turn before saying, “Now to the issue of your neighbours. I saw a young man from Clarissa’s window, he seemed uncommonly brown for an Englishman. Is there mixed blood there?”

  “Not that I am aware of, Aunt Mary, Mr Markham Clarke and his wife Eugenia along with their daughter Charity and their son Ramsey have all been living in Jamaica for the last twenty some odd years. They’ve only recently returned to England so that Ramsey could attend Oxford and for Charity to find a husband. I’m told that they had owned a very successful sugar plantation there and raised horses. I’m afraid that is the sum of my knowledge regarding their history. Except that they have been in residence now for about three months. Their daughter Charity unfortunately seems to have formed an attachment for me since the evening I rescued them from a carriage accident. They were returning from the opera when I came upon them.” He turned to look at my mother and continued earnestly, “But it was hardly a rescue. I merely offered them my carriage to return home in while I remained with their driver to assist him in untangling theirs from the wagon that had crashed into them. Despite my best efforts to discourage Charity she has remained persistent in her admiration. I can assure you that I have given her no cause to believe that her affection is returned.” He clasped my mother’s hands. “That is why I look forward to your eventual meeting with Miss Clarke so that she will finally see that my heart is irrevocably yours, my darling.”

  Irene blushed. “Surely you exaggerate, Colin. It can’t be more than a young girl’s infatuation but don’t worry, my dear, I shall set things to rights in no time at all.”

  He kissed her hand. “I pray that you’re right, my dear. She and her mother have tried everything to ensnare me.” He turned back to Aunt Mary, “As for the young man Ramsey, he is I think eighteen years old.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really? I would have thought him much older. Perhaps it’s just his tanned skin that makes him look older.”

  Father nodded. “Maybe he is older, Lissa, he has the kind of face that makes it impossible to judge an age accurately. I’ve never really conversed with him but by reputation he is a bit of a scallywag. Our gardeners tell me that he has developed a fondness for trying to gain access to our garden even though the gate in the wall does not appear to have a key.”

  Mother sipped her tea before saying, “Surely there must be a key somewhere?”

  Father shook his head “No, my dear, the original owners of our home purchased the adjoining property for their son when he married. They had the garden gate installed to make visiting easier. When their son died in France during the war, his wife returned to her family. There was no gate key that came with either house to my knowledge, they must have been lost or misplaced by the previous owners.”

  Mother hated sad stories and I could see tears forming in her eyes. Father cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Aunt Mary, could you tell me what you have planned for my ladies? In light of recent events I feel that I’ll need to make arrangements for an armed escort wherever you go.”

  Aunt Mary was affronted by the suggestion considering the look she gave Father. “Good God, Colin, an armed escort! Whatever for? Surely you don’t think the man that attacked Samuel would come after innocent women?”

  Father grimaced at her words, but he answered in a fashion that would brook no argument. “I’m not about to take chances with any of you.” He raised his hands to stop her response. “But neither am I going to keep you prisoners here.” He finished with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Aunt Mary capitulated and finally outlined our agenda of paying calls, going to dressmakers, teas, and soirées. I was exhausted just
thinking about it. I was old enough now to accompany them and would have to meet the matrons of society and be assessed by my peers…my mind was numb with the contemplation.

  Aunt Mary and Mother continued the conversation but once it veered into talk about fabrics, laces, gloves and boots Father quickly gave his excuses and made his retreat. Before they became too deeply immersed in their discussion I asked if I could go to my room and read and so I was dismissed with a kiss and a wave.

  I had started towards my room but on a whim, I changed direction to find Samuel’s room instead. Stopping at what I thought was his door I slipped in and found it led into his dressing room. The door adjoining his bedroom was ajar and I heard my father’s voice raised in anger. “What were you thinking? What could you have possibly been thinking! No! Don’t answer that for heaven sakes, Samuel, she could have been killed!”

  Samuel mumbled something, but father shouted over him “GOOD GOD! Do you really believe they were aiming at you and not her?” I couldn’t hear Samuel’s reply, so I moved and stood as close to the open door as possible while Father continued. “I suppose you could be” He mumbled something then Samuel did as well. After a pause, I heard my father say, “Yes, I’ve talked to both Michael and Jacob and they agree with you.” Again, I could only hear murmuring until father yelled, “NO!”

  Then it got quiet when a third person close by my hiding place whispered “Hush.”

  Father continued, however, “I can’t tell them about this, are you insane? No! We will go ahead with our plans. But there will be no riding in the park for anyone until we catch the bastard. I just got them back, Samuel, I will not lose them to that animal. I wish to god that I had never recruited him.” Samuel’s voice was still muffled but Father answered him, “We have to find him and stop him this time, one way or another. Did you believe him when he told you that your father is involved?”

  More whispers then I heard my uncle say, “Are you prepared to kill him this time?”

  There was a lengthy pause then a sigh. Finally, my father said, “Yes he’s left me no choice.”

  Suddenly the door in front of me opened wide and Dalton was standing in front of me. “Hello, Miss Turner.”

  I smiled weakly, responding, “Hello, Dalton, I just thought I’d stop by and see how my uncle was doing. But I seemed to have come in the wrong door.”

  Over his shoulder I could see my father staring at me in shock. Samuel who looked awful was chuckling in the background and in a dry raspy voice said, “I warned you about her, Colin. Clarissa is not your average sixteen-year-old. She has spent far too much time alone, leaving her nothing to do but listen and watch everything that the rest of us were doing.”

  Father’s face fell into a look of resignation. “Come here, Lissa. Tell me, how much did you hear?” Dalton stood aside as my father came and took my hand, leading me into my uncle’s bedroom.

  “Nothing, Papa, well, not much actually. Uncle Samuel mumbles too much.”

  Samuel was lying back against a mountain of pillows with a glass in his hand that I knew held neither small beer nor diluted wine. I was furious I couldn’t believe that someone had ignored the doctor’s orders! I loved my uncle very much and because I did, I let go of my father’s hand and marched over to the bed taking the glass out of his hand. “This is very naughty, Uncle; you know the doctor’s orders. NO spirits!” He cringed at my voice which I had raised to make my point.

  Father and Dalton both laughed, and I spun on them. “Shame on both of you! Don’t you want him to get better?” Both stopped laughing immediately. “Dalton, please remove this.” I handed him the glass and the bottle sitting on the bedside table. “I believe cook has some beef tea and custard ready for my uncle, perhaps you could fetch him some.” Dalton glanced at my father with the trace of smile still lingering. Father nodded, and he left the room.

  I looked back at my uncle who glared at me with something between surprise and suspicion and with an edge to his voice said, “I see that you still eavesdrop whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

  I knew my face betrayed me. “How did you—what—I never did! I just came through the wrong door.” I had been caught out and he knew it. “Oh, bloody hell.”

  My father coughed like he was trying to keep from laughing as Samuel continued. “I warned you, Colin, the brat has mad skills when it comes to sussing out information. She’s one of the best eavesdroppers and observers I’ve ever witnessed at work.”

  I was incredulous. “Uncle Samuel, you knew I was there?!”

  He was looking very pale, his eyes were dark and listless and when he chuckled, he flinched. He ignored me and continued speaking to my father. “I think you should put Lissa on the payroll. There isn’t much that gets past her. I guarantee you that before the month is out she’ll know everything there is to know about the staff and half of your neighbours as well. I’ve learned from experience that it’s practically impossible to keep a secret from her.” Then he flashed me a warm smile as he slid down on his pillows. “Now, both of you get out before Dalton comes back; I want to be asleep before he tries to feed me that beef tea.” He closed his eyes.

  Father put his hand on my shoulder and directed me towards the door, but I slipped out of his grip and ran back to my uncle’s bedside to kiss him on the cheek. “Get better soon, I love you.” Then I whispered in his ear, “I’ll bring you an apple tart later.”

  His right eye popped open, he smiled and whispered back, “Thanks, brat.”

  Chapter 7

  Problems Galore

  Father escorted me out of the room and as we walked towards the stairs he queried, “Apple tart?”

  “You heard me?”

  He nodded. “It seems that you’ve inherited more than your eyes and hair colouring from me.” He leaned over and whispered, “I’m a consummate eavesdropper myself.” Nudging my shoulder, he smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

  As we reached the hallway the footman Murphy was just closing the front door, he had a smirk on his face and a silver slaver in his hand. However, he immediately composed his face when he saw us and held out the slaver to father who took the cards off it. “Thank you, Murphy.” Murphy nodded, putting the slaver down on a table near the green braise door and after a short pause to straighten a mirror, move a vase of flowers and then smoothed down the sleeves of his immaculate jacket departed through the door resplendent in his hunter green and buff uniform.

  I was curious about all the staff and Murphy was a real enigma. It was unheard of to call a footman by his surname and he was more familiar with my father than most of the staff, yet he was formal to the extreme with the rest of us. I was beginning to realise that many things were unusual in my father’s house, so I turned to him to ask “Father, Murphy’s a very quiet man. I didn’t hear him utter two words to anyone all the way down from Northumberland.”

  Father nodded as he read a card while tapping the others on the table. “Yes, he is a quiet, but he’s suffered a great deal in life and there is nothing wrong with being quiet. I would hazard he just doesn’t have much to say to anyone but he’s good man. I know that you’re naturally inquisitive but please don’t bother him about his past. He lost someone he cherished when he was a younger, it’s a very painful topic for him and is one of the reasons that he left Ireland.”

  “Doesn’t he have any family?”

  Father brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “He has an older sister still there, but his parents died when he was a young man and his younger sister died tragically. They were caught out on the streets in Dublin when the militia had been called out to break up a protest. He was just a boy then out with his sister, but she panicked when the mob charged down the street toward them. They were separated, and she ran in the wrong direction, fell and was trampled to death. She died before Murphy could reach her and he was almost hauled off by the militia when he was mistaken for one of the instigators. Fortunately, a priest had witnessed what had happened to him and his sister and vo
uched for him. He still regularly corresponds with his remaining sister in Ireland but has never gone back.”

  I was keen to know so I whispered, “Is he a rebel?”

  Father shook his head. “Not really, Murphy would never take up arms to fight for home rule though he does indulge in writing pamphlets as a form of protest from time to time.” My heart went out to Murphy, he was Irish and all alone in the England, it must be terribly lonely for him.

  Father stopped tapping the cards in his hand and handed me one. I looked at the card. “Oh no!” I hung my head. “He’s coming tomorrow.” Father passed me the second card and all I could do was groan. “It appears that Ramsey really couldn’t wait to tell his family about us.”