“You never told me you’d met an English officer, Rina.”
“Why? Nothing happened, and besides, we were rather in a hurry that day. And later, I forgot him. At least until a few minutes ago when it all came back. Odd how just a face can recall so much.”
Mary nodded, then said in puzzlement, “Why didn’t you want to tell Colonel Fletcher we were in Scotland?”
“The less that man knows the better. He is here to catch Bonnie Charlie. Don’t you think he’ll find it peculiar that a Scots family is living in the same area where an obviously Scots bandit is at work? I wonder how long it will take him to become suspicious of that coincidence.”
“Oh, dear, I didn’t think of that,” Mary admitted.
Sabrina smiled. “It does him little good now. Bonnie Charlie no longer exists, so what evidence can the good colonel gather, and who’d believe him anyway?”
Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “You’ve always got an answer, Rina. I really don’t know what we’d do without you.”
Sabrina laughed. “You’d be leading very correct lives, without the cares and worry I’ve caused you.”
Mary shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid I’d find that far too dull after the life we’ve had these past years.”
The fat is in the fire.
—John Heywood
Chapter 7
A cumbersome coach carrying the Verrick family began its journey to London, making its way along the dusty, hard-packed dirt roads, twisting up through ancient hamlets and down through quaint villages that hugged slumberous rivers. Signposts were few and far between as they passed through these nameless, centuries-old habitats of a people little changed since they had bowed down to Queen Elizabeth I.
Richard fidgeted nervously while Aunt Margaret sewed and Hobbs dozed in her corner. Mary was quiet as she stared out of the window, a slight frown marring her forehead.
“Is something troubling you, Mary?” Sabrina asked as she watched Mary’s restless hands.
Mary jumped guiltily. “Wrong? Of course not, I’m just nervous about seeing London, and buying these eyeglasses for Richard,” she explained lamely, knowing by Sabrina’s penetrating look that she didn’t believe her, but she had nothing else to say and turned back to the view.
Sabrina continued to watch her a moment longer, then looked out of the window herself. They were driving through a crossroads, and knowing what she would see, Sabrina averted her gaze as they passed the gibbet where some unfortunate highwayman was often seen hanging—a warning to all who passed to beware.
Sabrina swallowed painfully, the fear of capture still haunting her in her dreams and thoughts. The gibbet had been close enough to the coach for even Richard to see and he tucked his hand into Sabrina’s, giving it a comforting squeeze. Sabrina returned it with a smile, breathing easier as they climbed out of the small valley and disappeared over the crest of the hill.
After midday they stopped for luncheon at an inn, the coach pulling into the bustling courtyard of the King’s Carriage Inn while ostlers rushed out to take charge of the horses. They hired a private room for their meal, the coffee room being noisy and full with every type of traveler off the public coaches that traveled the main highways, including the flying coaches that sometimes traveled as far as sixty miles in one day.
They dined on roast duck, turbot and fresh oysters and vegetables, followed by berry tarts and cheese carried in by a friendly serving girl, and spent an enjoyable couple of hours relaxing and recovering from their bone-jarring journey. They sipped tea before a cheerful fireplace, laughing at the confused and angry voices of a troupe of strolling players rehearsing their evening’s play, As You Like It.
Continuing their journey they reached the outskirts of London in the early evening, twilight lingering and blending with the smoky haze that hung low over the city. They traveled through the open fields and small villages surrounding London, seeing ships flying the flags of countless foreign countries docked on the busy river Thames unloading their cargoes from far-distant lands.
London was a maze of twisting, cobbled streets far too narrow for the hubbub of traffic that surged through them. Coaches-and-six, oxcarts, sedan chairs, horsemen and pedestrians all jockeyed for position on the narrow streets. Gradually the congestion eased as their carriage made its way from the river front and business section of the city into the large squares and the straighter, wider streets surrounding them.
The Marquis of Wrainton’s small Queen Anne town house was situated in a quiet square off Hyde Park, where the king still hunted deer with his royal party. The house’s broad brick front with its double tiering of sash windows and steeply rising roof was accented by wrought-iron railings across the cornice, and massive chimney stacks.
“Richard, we’re here.” Sabrina nudged her sleeping brother. Mary alighted first after helping Hobbs collect Aunt Margaret’s odds and ends that had become scattered about the inside of the coach. One of the grooms had alerted the household of their arrival and as Sabrina, followed by the others, made her way up the walk to the entrance she was watched by the majordomo, neatly attired in blue livery with a disapproving look on his disciplined features.
“I’m Lady Sabrina Verrick; my sister, Lady Mary Verrick; my aunt, Lady Margaret Verrick; and my brother, Richard Verrick, the Earl of Faver.” Sabrina made the introductions as she stepped past the astounded majordomo who stood in front of the stately mahogany door that guarded the oak-paneled entrance hall.
“I’m absolutely fatigued to death,” Aunt Margaret declared as she stumbled into the hall on the arm of the ever-helpful Hobbs. “Where are the lads?” she fretted, realizing the spaniels were missing.
“We left them at Verrick House where they can run around and play,” Sabrina said, relieved when Aunt Margaret smiled distractedly. “Show Lady Margaret to a room, please,” Sabrina requested as she swept into the salon, the majordomo close behind, “and send her up a bath and some tea. We’ll have ours down here.” She turned and gave the speechless servant, who was still floundering at this invasion of his master’s home, a stunning smile that captured his loyalty as soon as it shone upon him.
“Immediately, your ladyship, and I’ll prepare rooms for you and your family at once. Should there be anything at all you should need, we are at your complete disposal.”
Sabrina beamed. “Thank you so much, and what are you called?”
“Why, I am Cooper.”
“Very good, Cooper, we shall retire as soon as we’ve refreshed ourselves.”
Cooper coughed, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Will your ladyship mind sharing a bedchamber with the Lady Mary?” he asked. “You see, we are a bit pressed for space, what with the marquis and the contessa in residence.”
Sabrina stood absolutely still, his words chilling her body. Her face had paled so suddenly at the majordomo’s words that he took a concerned step forward in case she fainted.
“Are you ill, Lady Sabrina?” he inquired anxiously. “Shall I fetch the salts?”
“No, I’ll be quite all right, it is just that you surprised me with your information concerning the marquis,” Sabrina explained.
Cooper looked confused. “Yes, well, I had wondered myself, Lady Sabrina, because Lord and Lady Wrainton are visiting friends in the country, and had planned to stop off at Verrick House to see his family, but as they are expected back Saturday, you will of course still be here…” He trailed off as he noticed the look on Sabrina’s face.
“They are at Verrick House?” she demanded in disbelief. “It cannot be true.”
“Richard is too tired to have tea, I’ve tucked him up in a bed in one of the dressing rooms,” Mary announced as she entered the salon. She stopped abruptly as she became aware of the strained silence and glanced between the two people nervously. “What has happened?” she asked in resignation.
“The marquis was here,
” Sabrina informed her, then added after Mary’s gasp of surprise, “and now is on his way to Verrick House, or maybe already there.”
Mary sat down weakly on the sofa, her hands shaking. Sending the majordomo for tea, Sabrina walked over to stand in front of her sister, looking down at her compassionately.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Mary whispered, then looking at Sabrina with anguished eyes explained chokingly, “I knew something strange was happening, but when you disappeared, I attributed what I saw to that—only now I know I was wrong. You see, I could see your face. The violet eyes, the dimple, everything so familiar, and yet, different. It wasn’t quite right, not quite you, and yet who else could it have been? Now I know—the marquis. You look like him, Sabrina, that’s why I couldn’t separate the two of you. I’m sorry. If only I’d told you.”
“Damn him,” Sabrina cursed the marquis, her face stormy. “What are we going to do? How dare he go to our home after all these years.”
Sabrina stood fuming as the tea tray was set up, waiting until they were alone again before continuing angrily, “I hate the thought of him at Verrick House. We’re the ones who made it livable, made it our home. He has no right to go there.”
Mary poured the steaming tea into wafer-thin cups and held one out enticingly to Sabrina. Sabrina accepted it and sipped at it gratefully.
“No sense in ranting and raving,” she spoke calmly, “for it will do us little good. What we must do, however, is take care of Richard’s eyeglasses, and then as soon as possible leave the marquis’ house. I do not care to be here when he returns, which will not be for some time, hopefully.
“In fact, I think it would be wise if we sought other lodgings until we’ve finished our business here.” She shook her head in exasperation. “We certainly can’t go back home, not with the marquis possibly at Verrick House, but at least we have until Thursday or Friday until we need leave here. You can’t tell me how long it will take with Richard, can you?” Sabrina asked.
Mary shook her head apologetically. “I’m afraid not, Rina.”
“Then we had better get some sleep, for we shall be busy in the next few days. I just hope that all goes well for Richard, it means so much to him, and to us.”
When they reached their bedchamber several maids were waiting to help them undress and prepare for bed. Brass warming pans had been placed in the cavernous bed, warming the cold pockets beneath the sheets. Sabrina stretched out tiredly next to Mary.
“I prefer wood fires to this messy black coal,” Sabrina said sleepily as she watched the smoldering coals behind the fire grate.
Mary smiled in the darkness. “You’re a rustic, Rina. You like apple logs scenting the hearth, dogs sleeping before it, and you supping on homemade mead and pigeon pie.”
Sabrina snorted indignantly. “Pigeon pie, indeed. I’ll sup on lobster and champagne, and almond cheesecake any day. And I’d wear satin and lace rather than linsey-woolsey, and perfume my body and wear diamonds in my hair, and—”
“—and ride through Berkeley Square in a golden coach-and-six, wearing a powdered wig and black velvet petticoat as you are presented to the king,” Mary added ridiculously.
Sabrina couldn’t help but laugh at her absurdities, and as she laughed she felt some of the tension leave her body as she relaxed against the soft mattress.
“Thanks, Mary,” she whispered.
The next morning she and Richard left early for their appointment with Mr. Smithson. Richard had nervously sat through breakfast, fiddling with his eggs and chocolate. He was dressed in a gray cloth suit with gold buttons and a silver brocaded waistcoat, his neckcloth and stockings snowy white. He looked like a small, well-dressed gentleman until he rubbed the round toes of his buckled shoes nervously on the back of his calves, leaving a black smudge across their white surface.
“Are we going now, Rina?” he demanded time and time again.
“Yes, now we are going,” she was finally able to answer him as they finished breakfast.
With one of the marquis’ coachmen to guide them, they set off. Sabrina pulled her pelisse closer about her throat, the morning air still cool and fresh as they traveled along the London streets. Leaving the big squares and stately homes they made their way along the cobbled streets with their small, sash-windowed shops and swinging signs proclaiming their trade. Booksellers, tea dealers, goldsmiths and silk mercers competed for dominance down the narrow alleys and courts with perfumers, wig makers, chandlers, drapers and undertakers.
This early in the morning the streets were clogged with farmers herding their cattle to market, grocers heading to Covent Garden to buy fruit and vegetables, and street vendors hawking food. Pie-men and muffin-men, oysters sold from wheelbarrows; fishmongers and butchers, their shops open-fronted to display their products—all crying their pitch to the passersby.
Sabrina held a delicately scented handkerchief to her nose at the strong odors that wafted in through the coach windows. The stench of the open sewers and gutters blended with the smell of fish and garbage was almost overpowering.
Richard wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Phew! What a stink.”
“Richard, really,” Sabrina laughed uncomfortably, her breakfast sitting queasily in her stomach.
The coach left the busy thoroughfare and came to a rest before a small neat shop in a quiet court. The liveried groom hopped down, and opening the door helped Sabrina to descend, Richard crowding close behind her. She looked about interestedly at the shop front, the blue sky blocked from view by their overhanging eaves and crowding rooftops. A chemist’s shop and a printseller’s were wedged close against the little shop whose address Sabrina had given the coachman.
Above the door in small lettering was printed smithson’s optical instrument makers. Grasping Richard’s hand with her gloved fingers, Sabrina entered the shop, a tinkling bell over the door announcing their arrival. It was clean and cool within, a display case with various oddities in it against one wall, while a long counter with assorted paraphernalia stretched along another. There was a small fireplace, and before it a rug and several chairs. Somewhere in the shop a clock chimed the hour and from a flight of stairs a stooped man in a black silk coat and breeches with matching stockings descended slowly. He wore the old-fashioned full-bottomed wig and was checking the time on a heavy gold pocket watch.
“Good morning to you, Mistress, may I be of some small service to you?” he inquired courteously, with an old-world charm.
Sabrina pulled the shy Richard forward. “Good morning. I’m Lady Sabrina Verrick, and this is my brother, Lord Faver. Are you Mr. Smithson?”
At his nod, she reached into her purse for the note from Mrs. Taylor and handed it across to him. He looked curiously at it, then withdrawing a pair of eyeglasses from his waistcoat pocket and perching them on his high-bridged nose, read the note. A smile curved his thin lips and brightened his austere features as he carefully folded it up and put it in his pocket.
He looked at them both intently for a brief moment, the young boy with bright red hair hanging shyly back behind the beautiful girl with jet-black hair under a small, sky-blue silk hat, a matching blue ribbon tied around the small column of her neck and matching the blue satin of her gown.
“So, you are the young lady who has befriended my sister? It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your ladyship,” he told her sincerely, nothing servile in his manner to indicate they were on different social levels. “And how are those two large nephews of mine?”
Sabrina’s smile widened and warmed her eyes. “As big as ever,” she replied, relaxing as she told him all about Mrs. Taylor and Will and John, answering his questions patiently until finally coming to the reason for their visit.
“Mrs. Taylor recommended you to me. You see, my brother, Richard, has difficulty seeing things in the distance, and we were hoping you might be able to help him.”
Mr. Smithson narrowed his eyes as he looked at Richard’s pale, upturned face. “Well, Lord Faver, let us see what we can do for you.” He motioned to the chairs and invited Sabrina to take a seat when he examined Richard. He held up a variety of lenses, directing Richard to look through them into the street. Mr. Smithson made copious notations, murmuring and mumbling beneath his breath, until finally with a sigh of satisfaction he replaced his instruments in their velvet-padded wooden box and led Richard over to take a seat next to Sabrina. Before he sat down Mr. Smithson pulled a bellpull hanging nearby.
“I hope you will give me the honor of sharing tea with me? My housekeeper will bring it down shortly.”
“Thank you, that would be welcomed,” Sabrina accepted his invitation graciously. “Do you live above your shop?”
Mr. Smithson nodded serenely, his gentle hands spread and encompassing his surroundings. “This is my home, where I was born, and where I shall die. Today, the modern merchant or professional man leaves his shop to live in a villa outside of town. It is no longer fashionable to live above your shop. But me…” he paused as his housekeeper entered carrying a heavy tray and placed it on a small table beside Sabrina. “If you would be so kind to pour?” he asked. And as Sabrina complied, he continued, “but me, I am old-fashioned and too set in my ways to change this late in the day.” He thanked Sabrina for his tea, and sat sipping it ruminatively.
“I am quite pleased with my examination of young Lord Faver,” he finally told them. “If you will return in a week, I think I can promise you that your brother, with a little practice, of course,” he warned, smiling at Richard’s eager blue eyes, “will be able to shoot the center out of a half-crown like the best of marksmen.”
Moonstruck Madness Page 15