Far Beyond Rubies

by Rosemary Morris

  She straightened her spine, determined not to reveal her fear for her sister. “I do not believe you.”

  “Oh, it is true enough,” William gloated. “To whom, I asked myself, would you send the child? Not to your mother’s family, from whom you are estranged, and not to any member of Father’s family, who might return my ward to me. After I eliminated both our families from the conundrum, the question of her whereabouts was easy to solve. Who better to trust Henrietta with than your former nurse?”

  “Hellhound, what have you done with my sister?”

  William took out his snuffbox as though he had not a care in the world.

  Juliana sank into a chair. She glanced up at him, unable to tolerate his ominous bulk above her. “Sit down.”

  He sank onto the chair separated from hers by a low table. “Ah, you have remembered your manners.”

  “If you say so,” she replied, forcing herself to answer dispassionately. “Tell me why you want me to marry Ravenstock.”

  “My reason does not matter. It is enough to say that if you become his wife, I shall settle Riverside on you.”

  Juliana arched her eyebrows. “If it is yours to settle on me. There is a question about the validity of the document purported to be Father’s last will and testament.”

  “If you challenge it, you will never see Henrietta again.” His bulging eyes gleamed with wicked triumph. “There are infinite possibilities. I could apprentice her to weavers, send her to a convent in France, or put her to work in a foreign brothel.” He flicked open his snuff box. “On the other hand, bodies wash up daily on the banks of the Fleet.”

  At the thought of that river which stank so vilely, bile rose hot and sour in her throat. She swallowed it. “You have your faults, but surely even you would not—indeed, could not—murder a child. As for your other threats—”

  While she spoke, William had applied a pinch of snuff to his nostrils, sneezed, and then dabbed his nose with his handkerchief. “A desperate man will essay anything.”

  Puzzled she scrutinised his face. “Tell me the cause of your despair. Perhaps I can help you.”

  William did not reply. Instead he stood and then took another turn around the salon. “Well, madam, what do you say? Will you make a match of it with Ravenstock?”

  “I cannot answer you now.”

  “Ah, may I suppose you wish to consult the jackanapes who prevented me from taking you home to Riverside?”

  Her cheeks burned with rage. “The gentleman in question is not a jackanapes. He is Viscount Beaumaris.”

  William’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You will be a laughing stock for taking up with Beau Hindu.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Beau Hindu?”

  “My poor sister, did you not know he is a heathen?”

  “What nonsense is this? Enough, I will send you my answer within a se’nnight.”

  William fired his last shot on his way out. “As you please, but remember Ravenstock is preferable to an idolater.”

  Her heart thumped too hard for comfort. William’s warning came too late. Even if Gervaise bowed down before graven images, she would love him, although her soul cringed at the thought of idol worship. Sadness seeped through every nerve in her body. In her heart of hearts, she knew she would not, indeed could not, bring herself to marry outside the Church of England. Why, oh why, had she fallen in love for the first time with a man nick-named “Beau Hindu”?

  In turmoil, she watched Gervaise, the epitome of grace and elegance, step out from behind the screen. She ran to him. The tears of rage she held back in her half-brother’s presence rolled down her cheeks. Furious with herself for allowing them to escape, she brushed them away with the back of her hand.

  Gervaise caught her in his arms. With one hand he cradled the back of her head as though she was a distraught child. “Please do not cry.” He kissed her forehead. “We shall find Henrietta.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “My tears are of rage,” Juliana explained to Gervaise, furious with herself for crying like a weak woman. “How I managed to keep my temper with William, I do not know.”

  “Neither do I.” Gervaise put an arm round her waist and guided her to a sofa. “Were it not for Henrietta, I would have been tempted to challenge him to a duel.”

  She looked up at him, appreciative of his indignation on her behalf. At that moment, she was too furious with her half-brother to care for either propriety or Gervaise’s religious beliefs. She revelled in the security of his arm. How dare William use her as a pawn. As for Ravenstock, the man was despicable. “How does William have the effrontery to require me to marry him?”

  “Hellhound, as you so aptly described him,” Gervaise obliged, and then smiled.

  Unable to think of another equally satisfactory epithet, she nodded and sniffed.

  “Dry those outraged tears.” Gervaise withdrew a linen handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “Blow your nose. I promise you Lord Kemp will rue this day’s mischief. I shall employ agents to find your sister.”

  She wiped her eyes before blowing her nose as vigorously as a child. Sick at the thought of Henrietta in William’s power and horrified by his demand that she marry Ravenstock, she scrutinised Gervaise’s face. Though he seemed to have his indignation under control, his eyes glittered. “You are furious, are you not?” she asked.

  “Furious? My blood rages at the mere thought of your half-brother. But I beg you not to permit thoughts of him to disturb your peace of mind. It is everyone’s misfortune to have unsavoury relatives. Albeit,” he added, “not ones who threaten to either murder a child, or condemn them to a life of slavery, degradation, and misery. If the matter ever comes to court, I will testify to his threats.” He clasped her hand. “Permit me to tell you of a plan to which I hope you will consent.”

  She stood, as her anxiety again consumed her. “I shall welcome anything which helps me find my sister.” For a second or two, her breath caught in her throat. “I cannot forget Henrietta for even a moment. How frightened she must be. Who knows what lies William has fed her? Maybe she thinks I have abandoned her.”

  Gervaise’s blue eyes widened. “I promise to do all in my power to help you find your sister. Try not to fret. Concentrate on where William might have taken her. Please sit down again and tell me what you think of my decision. I intend to—”

  “How can I not worry?” Juliana sank onto the floor at Gervaise’s feet. “I shall have no peace until she is restored to me.”

  “I know you will not.” Gervaise rested his fingers on her shoulder. “Listen to my plan. It is my intention to launch my sister Aphra in society. I hope Barbara will consent to chaperone her. If she agrees, I will ask her to chaperone you as well. Oh, I know you have already been presented to Queen Anne, but what could be more natural than for Barbara’s protégée to dwell under my roof with my sisters? Thus, I can offer you my full protection. What say you?”

  “How will it help me to find Henrietta?” In despair she shook her head. “In London, how can you protect me from William and Ravenstock?”

  Gervaise’s jaw tensed. “Trust me, I shall find a way. Have you naught else to say to my plan?”

  “How will it help to find my sister?” she repeated.

  “Your half-brother mentioned the Fleet. It implies he has brought Henrietta to the capital. We shall search for her there.”

  Juliana remembered William’s comments about bodies found washed up on the riverbank of the Fleet. She covered her face with her hands. Surely his threat was idle. Would even a man as despicable as he murder a child? “My lord, we are not related. Why are you prepared to do so much for me?”

  “Shall we say, I cannot bear injustice, and wish to right all the wrongs you have suffered?”

  With thoughts of Henrietta uppermost in her mind, she removed her hands from her face and considered his scheme. “Do you think Barbara will agree to your suggestion?”

  “I hope so, but there is a problem. Ralph is shy of company, an
d Barbara does not care to leave his side for even a day. However, I think I can persuade him to come to town despite his reluctance to be seen in polite society.”

  A beggar like she, had little choice. Those in London who might have helped could not protect her from either William or Ravenstock. What was more, they would not be able to restore Henrietta to her. Puzzled, she frowned. “I do not understand William’s plan. Why should the viscount agree to marry me? Why should William settle Riverside on me if I marry Ravenstock?”

  A grim line formed around Gervaise’s mouth. “It is something else I hope to discover. We shall bait a trap for Kemp and Ravenstock, and pray that when we catch them, they will have no hope to escape the consequences of their misdoing. Believe me when I say that before much longer, I hope to answer all of your questions to your full satisfaction. Moreover, when I do so, I intend to avenge both you and Henrietta.”

  “How?” she asked, appreciative of his implacable determination, made all the more impressive by his calm demeanour.

  “At the moment, I cannot say, but I ask for your trust.”

  In spite of her anxiety, she managed to smile. “By now, you must know it is yours. Yet what am I thinking of? My brains are addled. By now Grace will be distraught. I must visit her.”

  “Grace?”

  “The nurse to whom I sent Henrietta.”

  “No need to visit Grace, I shall send for her,” Gervaise said in a matter of fact tone.

  “Thank you.”

  “Be brave. All will be well, Juliana. Every step your half-brother takes outside his house shall be dogged. What is more, I will bribe his servants to keep me informed. Never doubt I shall bring Henrietta safely to you. Unfortunately, we cannot be sure she is in London, but do not lose hope. If she is not in the capital, we shall seek her elsewhere.”

  “Thank you, thank you for being so kind to me. A curse on William! As God is my witness, I hate him. If I were a man, I would challenge him to a duel to the death.”

  Gervaise chuckled. “I thank Providence you are not a man.”

  “I am sorry. It is terrible to hate. I have never done so before, and hope I shall never do so again.” She studied the floor. “Father always said I have too hot a temper, and that I am too passionate.”

  “In this case, Juliana, anger and resentment serve you better than tears. For now, no more talk of your sister. I have said I will deliver her to you, and I shall.”

  Juliana did not know why his assurance dissolved the lonely place inside her. Yet it did. She was sure he would also slay all her dragons and warm the icy space in her heart forever.

  Her curiosity got the better of her. “Why did William call you Beau Hindu? Is there just cause for him to have accused you of being a heathen?”

  Gervaise turned his glass around, and then peered into it. “Excellent wine, I can never decide whether Spanish wines are superior to French ones such as Muscat and Hautbrion.”

  She frowned, anxious for an answer. “Will you not answer my questions?”

  Gervaise put his glass down. He stood, and then indicated the patches on his coat made earlier by her tears. He shrugged himself out of the garment. “I am not fit to be seen.”

  In her opinion, no one could fault either his white shirt, with sleeves edged with Honiton lace, or his long, pale green satin waistcoat that gleamed in a patch of sunlight.

  Gervaise laid the coat down on a chair and then flicked some dirt from the garden off his raspberry-red satin breeches.

  “My lord!”

  “Ah, you asked why I am called Beau Hindu. It is too long a tale to complete now. The hour to dine approaches.”

  “Have you not time to relate part of it?”

  Gervaise sat down. “Please forgive me if I am brief. I intended to discuss this and other matters with you, after we went to London. As you already know, at the age of sixteen I went to India in the service of The East India Company. At eighteen, my superior sent me to the tiny, wealthy kingdom of Baladham, in the far north, to secure trade agreements favourable to the company.

  “Imagine an impressionable youth becoming a favourite of Maharaja Govinda, a wise ruler with immense wealth at his command. Also imagine the same youth studying Bengali with Gopal Krishna das, the most compassionate of men. He is an elderly Hindu gentleman who respects all living creatures, and for that reason, like most Hindus, eats no meat, fish, fowl, or eggs.”

  Juliana frowned. “Hindus must be unhealthy.”

  “To the contrary, they are as healthy, if not healthier, than people of any other nation,” Gervaise replied with obvious amusement.

  “How strange. But I do not understand what this has to do with your sobriquet?”

  “Well, pyari, at first I thought to confound my tutor by quoting ‘Thou shalt not kill’ from the Ten Commandments. Gopal Krishna das laughed. ‘Your God is right. Thou shalt not kill,’ he said. ‘It is your misfortune not to understand Him. Your God did not say, thou shalt not kill human beings, but thou shalt kill other living creatures of My creation.’”

  Confused and disturbed by the interpretation of the Biblical injunction, Juliana paced the salon. Only the sound of her coal black taffeta train, as it swished along the floor, broke the silence. “What of war? Men are slain in battle.”

  “A just war is permissible.”

  “Who is to be the judge of whether or not a war is just?”

  “A good question, pyari, but it is one I cannot answer.”

  “What do your tutor’s words have to do with your nick-name, Beau Hindu?”

  Gervaise’s hands lay tightly clasped on his knees. “Naught other than I accepted some of old Gopal Krishna das’s teachings, and eschewed eating any dead creature.”

  Juliana wrapped her arms around her waist and stared at him in disbelief. “How eccentric.”

  “Just so, but you have spent enough time in my company to observe I eat no flesh. Did you not wonder why?”

  She shook her head. “I gave no thought to it.”

  “Ah! To return to my story, I am glad to say my decision did me no disservice in the king’s eyes. He heaped honours on me, and suggested I wear the cool, comfortable clothes of India where, before the season of rain, one thinks the heat will sear the flesh from one’s bones. From then on, to please him, I wore them when my service to The East India Company did not require me to dress in a coat and breeches.” Gervaise smiled at her. “No more questions. It is past four of the clock, the hour at which we sup, but there is much more I have to tell you.”

  * * * *

  After they ate, Gervaise and Ralph retired to the book room, where they removed their coats and sat down on comfortable wing chairs.

  Ralph took off his wig and ran a hand over the stubble on his head.

  “Wine?”

  Gervaise nodded.

  “Unpatriotic to drink French wine while we are at war with his most Catholic Majesty, Louis of France,” Ralph remarked. He removed the cork from one of the small bottles, poured some red viana wine into two crystal glasses, and then handed one to Gervaise. “Mind you, that is not to say I will not serve the French wines laid down in my cellar. What I do say is that I shall not buy more.”

  “Commendable of you,” Gervaise murmured, thinking of an excellent French frontiniac he had purchased recently.

  “A gentleman should not mention anything as vulgar as cost, but does it matter between friends?” Ralph asked, already somewhat intoxicated due to the quantity of wine he had consumed when they dined. He stared owlishly at Gervaise. “What do you think of this viana from Portugal?”

  Gervaise did not want to spend the better part of the evening discussing the merits of various wines. “Excellent.”

  Ralph beamed good-naturedly. “So say I. Moreover it is cheap compared to French wine. I supported the treaty with Portugal in which it was agreed the Portuguese would take our cloth, and their wine would be subject to a third less duty than French wine.” He wagged his finger. “I have purchased eight dozen bottles of t
his excellent viana, and defy any man to say it is not as good as French wine.”

  Gervaise rolled the liquid round in his mouth before swallowing it. “I shall not contradict you.” Before Ralph could praise or condemn other wines, he told Ralph about the conversation between Juliana and her half-brother.

  “’Pon my word, I have never been so shocked,” Ralph said. “To threaten to murder a child in order to force Mistress Kemp to marry that damnable rake, Ravenstock, is almost beyond belief.”

  Gervaise leaned forward. “Just so, however, there are other problems to be resolved, so I hope you will agree to my proposition.”

  Ralph uncorked another small bottle of viana. “More wine?”

  “No, thank you,” he said as he watched his brother-in-law help himself to another glass filled to the brim.

  With a rueful expression, Ralph peered into his lead crystal glass. “Last drink of the day, it does not do to over indulge—makes your sister frown. Yet what is there to do in the country? Consult with my bailiff about my estate, pay and receive visits, go to church, ride, hunt, shoot, play cards with Barbara, and pass an hour or two with my children.”

  Gervaise smiled. “Ah, you weary of being a recluse. I have a solution for your boredom. It is my intention to introduce Aphra to polite society. My mother is unable to come to London so, with your consent, I hope Barbara will agree to be my hostess, and to chaperone both Aphra and Mistress Kemp.”

  His brother-by-law straightened his back. “I have no objection to your plan.”

  “Thank you, but unless you agree to accompany us, I doubt Barbara will agree to my proposal.”

  Ralph twirled his empty glass. “Yes she will, if I ask her to.”

  “I think not. You know she dotes on you too much to be separated from you for even a short time. What do you say? Will you be kind enough to help me restore Mistress Kemp to her rightful place in society?”

  Ralph fingered his scar and scowled. “Damn it, you know why I live in seclusion.”