Untitled

by Wendy Bayne

  All of us were shocked to hear that Lord Gromley had only appeared to be a close friend of the General’s for all these years. She informed us that he had been aware of everything that had happened between my parents from the moment of their first meeting. In fact, it was his Lordship that Charlotte and my aunt had turned to for advice when the Vicar had refused to marry my parents. He had been the one who suggested that they go to Gretna Green to marry. My father was obviously perplexed, and mother was astonished, but she asked. “Aunt Mary, why would he go to such lengths for Colin and me and yet act like such a close friend of my father’s?”

  My aunt sighed and there was a profound sadness in her eyes when she spoke, “Alex, I mean Lord Gromley, has never liked Richard. He knew him at school and thought he was a bore and bully even then. But they were forced to spend a fair amount of time together since their parents were good friends and neighbours. When Richard asked for Alice’s hand and was accepted, Alex was furious.” She closed her eyes and sighed again. The look on her face was so sad that she now had Samuel and Emilie’s rapt attention while Mr Johnson continued to concentrate on his meal. “He was in love with Alice and would have married her himself if their families had not considered being second cousins too close a connection and therefore unsuitable. Alex always felt that Richard was beneath her, so he worried about her wellbeing. In fact, he argued hotly with the Blackwoods to find a better match for their daughter. They ignored his pleas believing that he jealous. Alex knew that Richard was just a self-serving egotistical beast but there was nothing he could do and therefore resigned himself to losing Alice. But he wouldn’t desert her. He was determined to watch over her no matter how much he suffered from it.” She opened her eyes and looked at all of us before continuing, “She was the one reason that he could never bring himself to marry, much to his family’s chagrin. You see the estate and title are entailed to the male line. Without any offspring of his own it would go to the only surviving male in the family, that would be you, Samuel. He always looked on you and Irene as the children he never had. I don’t believe my brother ever knew the depth of Alex’s attachment to your mother, even though he knew that they had always been close. When Alice died, I thought Alex would crawl into the grave with her or kill Richard.” Aunt Mary wiped a tear from her eye and went on. “Instead he went abroad to India then to the America. Even during the war, he travelled to all the most dangerous places as if he courted death yet through all his travels he stayed in touch with me. At first, I thought he flattered me with his attention since I was a widow. Then I realised that he only wanted to continue to watch over your welfare even from afar. When he finally returned for good, he renewed his acquaintance with Richard and continued to watch over you. He did his best to influence your father regarding your education and well-being as much as possible. Richard never guessed that it was you and your sister that he was interested in and not in his own stellar companionship.” Samuel and my mother were awe struck, while Father, the doctor, Emilie and Mr Johnson merely watched and waited. It appeared that we had an ally that the General was not aware of.

  Father leaned forward, “Well, this is rich!”

  Mother turned on him her face was flushed, tears glistened in her eyes. “Is that all you have to say?”

  Father paused and looked sideways at Samuel with a grin on his face, “What else is there?”

  Samuel started to chuckle, Mother reached over and slapped his arm lightly. “Stop it this instant the both of you! Doesn’t any of this bother you at all? Our mother was in love with Lord Gromley, our whole life has been a farce, Samuel!”

  He sobered immediately. “Irene, my dear sweet sister, our life has not been a farce. Our mother loved us dearly, I know that in my heart and in my mind as do you. Who she loved besides us was her own business. But it seems that Lord Gromley is the benevolent Uncle we never knew we had. I agree with Colin, this is rich! Surely you must see the absurdity of it all, Irene.” Mother shook her head on the verge of tears.

  Mr Johnson spoke up looking at my mother, “May I interject here. I think we have lost some of the plot of what has been going on. Mrs Turner, I’m sorry to diverge but perhaps lost loves can be discussed at your leisure another time.” Everyone at the table glared at him for he was being unconscionably rude, but no one interrupted as he continued, “Mr Spencer has hit a wall in his investigation of the shooting. Randall Browne is missing and even his esteem father apparently doesn’t know of his whereabouts at last count.” Father’s mouth fell open. “Sorry, Turner, I couldn’t help myself. I glanced at the letter you received from the Home Office.” My father rolled his eyes, but Mr Johnson continued, “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that the General picks this time to come to the capital when he can no longer have any influence on anything that any of you do? I’m sure his solicitors have made him aware of the court’s ruling in your favour regarding Clarissa as your natural and lawful child. He already knows that Samuel has private means and will not require his financial assistance now or in the future. So, let me pose the question again, why is the General here when he cannot change anything?”

  Uncle Samuel look shocked. “Are you insinuating that my own father wanted me dead?”

  Mr Johnson shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I do wonder if he knew about it. Exactly how far in debt is your father?”

  Samuel looked haunted, his shoulders drooped as he sunk back in his chair. My mother glanced at Father while Emilie turned to Samuel. “What does he mean?”

  My father slammed his cup down on the table as Mr Johnson rose and poured another cup of coffee for himself. “Oh, for heaven sakes, Miles, what are you getting at? Spit it out man!”

  Mr Johnson sat back and crossed his legs, looking at my father with a crooked half smile. “I think you know, Colin, or you have had a suspicion for some time.” Father looked like he was ready to explode. Mr Johnson then became very serious, laid his hands on the arms of his chair and sat forward. “I’ve been making use of my contacts just as Mr Spencer requested regarding the shooting. I’ve recently found out some very interesting things about the General, Mr Browne and your valet Richards.” He paused for affect, letting what he said sink in before continuing. “Tell me, Turner…smuggling can be a very profitable business, can it not? Especially if you are willing to run the risks in dealing with anyone that gets in your way. True?” Father merely nodded. “Well then, it appears that you and Hughes may have interfered once too often in someone’s ventures and the General seems to be one of those persons.”

  Mother looked stricken, Father was in deep thought while Uncle Samuel looked sick and angry as he snapped at Mr Johnson. “How long have you known this?”

  “Not long.” Samuel came up and out of his chair with his fists clenched.

  Mr Johnson motioned for him to sit. “I only got word of it this morning when your fishmonger delivered a message to your cook for me from one of my contacts.” He took a filthy piece of paper out of his pocket and passed it to father. “I think after you read this you may want to invite Mr Spencer to dine.” My father took the paper, glanced at it then looked up.

  Mr Johnson responded to his look. “Before you ask me, yes I’ve already sent a copy to Spencer. You can send that one to Sir Thomas if you like. Now would you like to tell us about the correspondence that you received from the Home Office? I take it from your late night with Mr Hughes, Murphy and Dalton you have a problem.”

  Father was outwardly calm, but his voice shook with suppressed emotion. “Damn it, Miles, if you were so bloody interested in my affairs and had information, why didn’t you just say so.”

  Mr Johnson smiled and extended his hands toward my father, palms up. “I just did, old man. I had no idea what you were involved in and I had no information to give you until this morning. But I’ve had my suspicions about Browne for some time.” He took a sip of his now cooling coffee. “As part of my service to keep myself out of debtor’s prison Spencer has had me investigating a string of warehouse thefts that he
and the River Police have been working on together. During my time on the docks I noticed that there is one warehouse that every thief in London takes a wide berth of.” He turned to look at my uncle. “It belongs to your father Hughes. And who do you think I’ve seen coming and going at all hours from there—Browne and Richards.” He paused to take another sip of his coffee. “As that note says there is a huge shipment of French goods expected to arrive in London by ship, but here’s the catch, the exact same shipment is also expected to land in Poole. One must be a decoy but which one? A smuggler’s ship coming up the Thames to dock is rather unusual to say the least which seems to indicate that they are willing to take a greater risk this time.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “From what I’ve been able to learn all previous shipments of goods have been landed off the coast at various locations then hauled across country in wagons splitting up to take different routes to different sites. Once there the goods are then broken down into smaller loads before making their way to London and other commercial centres. However, your coastal patrols have been able to disrupt them lately costing them considerable profits in the last few months and apparently, some of their partners are very unhappy about that.” He leaned forward with a very grave expression on his face. “Turner, if these people are who Mr Spencer and the River Police think they are, then you’ve made some lethal enemies not only in London but on the continent as well.” He paused before continuing, “We know that Randal Browne and your man Richards appear to be running things but there are some other extremely well-placed but unsavoury characters backing them, I just don’t know who. So again, tell me what was in the rest of your correspondence that had you up half the night?”

  Father relented. “My contact in the Home Office has received word that a vast shipment of French goods was to arrive in London, however, he gave me no time frame except that a ship was headed to London. He also mentioned that my father-in-law was now a person of interest.”

  Mr Johnson seemed to contemplate this information. “How reliable is your contact, Turner? Can you be sure that you are not being deliberately being put off track?”

  Mother interjected before they could continue, “My father is many things; but the head of a smuggling ring! I cannot credit it! I just don’t see it…” her sentence trailed off as if she was at a loss for words.

  Mr Johnson relaxed and smiled warmly at her. “I seriously doubt that the General is the head of this group, Mrs Turner. He may not even be a willing participant but rather just their puppet. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d very much like to come with you to this family tea, perhaps in disguise as a member of Mademoiselle Michaud’s family.”

  Emilie only arched an eyebrow and Samuel was laughing. “You have got to be kidding, Johnson! Emilie has no family.”

  Mr Johnson flourished his handkerchief like he was some sort of dandy and using a slight French accent continued, “I wasn’t thinking of anyone in the direct line, perhaps a long forgotten and distant émigré cousin, one that has sought her out only recently. My own mother was a French émigré so it’s not so farfetched.”

  My uncle was scanning the room again then with complete distain, he looked at Miles, “You are going to play the part of a French émigré, are you mad?”

  Mr Johnson was not the least affected by his comment. “Come now, your father has never met me. Besides a person’s French relations are almost impossible to trace with any degree of accuracy these days, he will never know, after all, I speak impeccable French. What do you say, Clarissa, do you think we can whip up a costume for an impoverished Frenchman?”

  I smiled gleefully, already thinking of the costumes we had accumulated and what he would need to pull it off. He reached out his hand pulling me to my feet and we were out the door and on our way to the attics before anyone could move or object.

  Once we reached out destination I stood there short of breath watching the dust motes float across a weak beam of sunlight that was coming through the window behind me. Mr Johnson was rummaging through the old wardrobes and trunks, looking for what I couldn’t imagine. As I watched one piece after another being rejected a thought came to me that a costume might be a mistake in this case. He pulled out a ghastly coat which had to have come from a time before I was born and smiled at me looking for agreement. I knew my face must have looked like I had swallowed sour milk for his face fell. “No?”

  I crossed my arms tipping my head from side to side before answering “Mr Johnson, that is a courtier’s coat. It’s very much out of fashion and it’s hideous. I’m afraid it’s all wrong.” He stood there staring at me in the most peculiar way that I felt a shiver run up my spine, so I hurried on, “Besides it will be broad daylight, you can hardly pretend to be much older than you already are. You should pose as Emilie’s younger cousin.” He turned his back to me as if he was still looking in the wardrobe. “But I have an idea that will perhaps be more believable than any costume. Go as yourself.”

  He took off the coat and tossed it into the wardrobe. Then he faced me again with one hand on his hip looking at me intently, “You wish me to present myself as my father’s bastard?”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it! You are a person of limited means, are you not?” He nodded. “Who earns his living through his wit and charm, am I correct?” He glared at me as I continued, “You are currently earning your way by teaching me about literature, the art of disguise and philosophy. That can be how you met Emilie in our household! After talking to her you discovered that you were distant relations. You already admitted that your mother was an émigré so how do we know that she wasn’t related to Emilie’s family?”

  His dark brow arched, and a laconic smile spread across his face. “Philosophy, Miss Turner? I was unaware that I ever waxed philosophical when speaking to you.” He chuckled in a low throaty fashion, more self-deprecating than amused. “Alright then, what else do you propose, poppet.” I frowned at the word poppet. I resented the inference that I was a child. Then as if he knew my thoughts, he said, “Oh buck up, Miss Turner, it was only meant as a term of endearment.”

  I felt a flush come to my cheeks when it hit me that he was much younger than my father and mother. I tried to ignore the feelings well up in me and continued with my plan. “I think that as a gentleman tutor you would dress in immaculate if slightly worn yet sober clothes. Your breeding would show in all the little details like your current impeccable grooming and manners already do. The General despises weakness, so I think you should present yourself much as you currently are, a self-assured intelligent man and not as some French fop.”

  His face softened as he approached me. “Is that how you really see me? I must warn you that I have had several appraisals of my character before and none of them have been particularly complimentary.”

  He stood there looking at me, his face devoid of emotion yet there was a glimmer in his eye or was it a tear, I couldn’t tell. I cocked my head to the side; he seemed to find this amusing, yet he remained motionless and didn’t speak a word. “Well, Mr Johnson, you are a handsome man but not in the conventional fashion. Your hair is longer than most, your dark riotous curls give you the air of a romantic and your eyes are a beautiful grey.” He chuckled as I continued, “You are very intelligent and have a ready wit. I imagine that women are attracted to you and men find you a charming companion. While you are kind and compassionate you are also audacious. Yet there is a touch of sadness that surrounds you, it’s obvious that you have been deeply hurt.” His eyes snapped, and he tensed with coiled energy or anger, I couldn’t tell since his face remained impassive. “You’re strong and fearless even though you attempt to hide it as much as you can. Still it’s your eyes that are your Achilles heel, aren’t they?” He raised an eyebrow as I went on, “Your eyes virtually crackle with intelligence, yes, your eyes must give you away on occasion. You really are so much more than what you appear, Mr Johnson.” I sighed, gazing at him and continued, “How incredibly bored you must be with the people that
you normally associate with.” He was glowering at me now. I felt badly for laying him bare and apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you?”

  His features immediately softened. “No, you didn’t offend me, poppet, rather you caught me off guard with how much you have observed. Children of your age…” I drew in my breath when he said children. “Excuse me, my dear, young ladies of your age rarely notice anything but the most superficial of qualities in others. You really do see far too much, Miss Turner. I shall have to beware of that in the future.”

  As we stared at each other the space between us became so charged that to relieve the tension, I replied, “Uncle Samuel often tells me that it’s a shortcoming of mine.”

  “On the contrary, my dear Lissa.” He paused then whispered, “But you should learn to not to share all that you see with everyone or it may prove to be your Achilles Heel.” He was deadly serious and concerned.

  Then he brightened as he pulled on his cutaway. “Come then, no costume or makeup will be required, we need merely to decide on how I am related to mademoiselle. My own father told me that no one knew much about my mother’s family, so I shall claim my relationship through her. I agree that under the circumstances it would be unwise of me to pretend to be anyone but who I really am in case I’m recognized. Do you agree?” I nodded, and he smiled kindly at me. “We had best go back downstairs and work with mademoiselle on our story.” He reached out and took my hand, leading me to the door where he stopped, he raised my hand slowly to his lips and kissed the wrist then palm, as he stared straight into my eyes with a peculiar look of intense melancholy. The moment seemed to go on forever, I felt my heart racing and I knew that I must be blushing when he said, “Heaven help the man that falls in love with you, Miss Turner, I fear you will lead him on a merry chase or break his heart.”