by Jane Feather
“I’m sure that Livia and Prince Prokov will be more than happy to oblige,” Aurelia said. “Prince Prokov has such a particular interest in his conservatory, he’d be delighted, I’m certain, to share his pleasure in such a good cause. I’ll write to Livia this evening…oh, thank you, Hester.” She smiled at the maid, who staggered under a laden tea tray that she placed on a low table in front of Aurelia.
“Miss Mavis made a seedcake, ma’am, an’ there’s a lardy cake if any o’ the ladies would like some.”
Lardy cake was a rich and somewhat greasy confection popular in the north of England. Aurelia thought her guests would probably not find it to their taste. “The seedcake will be sufficient, thank you, Hester.” She poured tea, handing the cups to Hester to pass around. “Will you take a slice of cake, Lady Severn?”
“No, I thank you, Lady Farnham.” The lady leaned forward, the ostrich feathers lavishly adorning her bonnet wafting over her eyes. She dropped her voice conspiratorially. “I find the seeds stick in my teeth, and one spends all afternoon and evening trying to suck them out without anyone noticing.”
There were sympathetic murmurs in response interrupted by voices from the hall. “Ah, you have more callers,” Cecily said gaily. “We always say how popular you are, the ladies of Cavendish Square as we used to call you when you all lived here. Oh, it seems so long ago.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” chimed in Nell from the now opened door. “See whom I’ve brought for you, Aurelia. Nick and David have just returned from a week of shocking dissipation in Brighton and are in sore need of rest and recuperation among the fleshpots of London.”
“Such nonsense you talk, Nell,” Sir Nicolas Petersham declared with the ease of old friendship. “Aurelia, ladies…” He bowed to the company. “I beg you will take no notice of such calumny.”
“Yes, indeed, souls of propriety…always…you know us, Ellie.” Lord David Foster bowed over Aurelia’s hand. “You are in looks, my dear ma’am, if I may say so,” he added softly.
Aurelia smiled. She was accustomed to David’s extravagant compliments, but they did no harm to one’s self-esteem. “Flatterer,” she accused lightly. “But pray don’t stop.”
He chuckled, kissing her hand again. “No flattery, I swear it.” He turned to pay his respects to the other ladies. “Lady Langton, about your charitable business as usual, I daresay?” He took a seat on her other side.
Aurelia dispensed tea, and when everyone seemed at ease, she rose from the sofa and crossed the room to rescue Nell, who was smiling bravely through a minute description of the valetudinarian Lady Severn’s latest, most intimate health crisis. Aurelia was about to move the conversation into a different channel when Morecombe intoned from the door, “That other gentleman is ’ere again, mum.”
Aurelia caught Nell’s startled look at this but smiled brightly, turning to greet the newcomer. “Colonel Falconer, how kind of you to call.”
“How kind of you to allow me to do so, Lady Farnham.” He stepped into the room, his eyes moving swiftly around the assembled company, seeming to take special note of each one, before he acknowledged Cornelia with a bow and a murmured “Lady Bonham, your servant.”
“Colonel.” She gave him her hand. “Are you acquainted with Lady Severn?”
“I have not had the pleasure,” he said, bowing over the lady’s plump hand. “Your servant, Lady Severn.”
She put up her glass and regarded him curiously. “New to town, are you?”
“I’ve been abroad for the last few years. At present I am staying with my aunt, Lady Broughton.”
“Oh, you must be the nephew she says she never sees,” her ladyship declared, shaking a reproachful finger, a somewhat incongruously coquettish smile on her rouged countenance. “You’ve been neglecting your relatives shamelessly, sir.”
“I hope to make amends, ma’am.” He bowed over her heavily beringed fingers, giving her a charming smile before turning slightly to where Aurelia stood just behind him.
“Do you care for tea, Colonel?” she inquired. “Or is it perhaps too bland a drink for a dashing soldier home from the wars?” Her voice was light and teasing, but her eyes were serious enough as she met his gaze.
“Oh, yes, Ellie, give the man a glass of something from Prokov’s excellent cellars,” David declared. “I own I’d be glad of a drop of port…how about you, Nick?”
“Tea’s not really to my taste,” Nick said. He came over to Greville, his usual frank and friendly smile on his lips. “Falconer, I don’t believe we’re acquainted.”
“No, I’m relatively new to town,” Greville said, shaking hands.
“But Harry knows him,” Cornelia chimed in with a chuckle, “and vouches for him. So you may safely know him.”
“Well, that’s all right then,” David said with a mock sigh of relief. “May I fetch you a glass of Prokov’s most excellent port, Falconer?”
“Please,” Greville said.
“Yes, help yourselves.” Aurelia gestured to the sideboard with a soft laugh. “Alex won’t begrudge you.”
“When do you expect the prince and princess to return to London?” Greville asked, drawing her slightly aside.
“Not for about two months,” she replied, aware of the warmth of his fingers on her elbow, wondering why he was somehow separating them from the others. Or giving that impression, at least.
His eyes were fixed upon her, his mouth curved in a warm smile, as he said, “I do hope you will walk with me in the park one afternoon, Lady Farnham. Now that the evenings are growing longer.”
Very well, Aurelia thought, let’s see if I can play the game. She offered him her own warm smile and said with convincingly soft sincerity, “I should be delighted, Sir Greville. Do pray call upon me.”
“If I suggest tomorrow, would you consider me incorrigibly importunate?” he asked, his hand still on her elbow, his tone lightly flirtatious.
Aurelia was aware of other eyes upon them. The eyes of her friends, who would be most interested not so much in the exchange itself, as in its manner. “I should consider you delightfully attentive, sir,” she responded with a creditably flirtatious chuckle of her own. Not so hard, after all, she thought. Then came the reminder that she had not formally agreed to his proposal. But after this little play, he would know her answer. In truth, after hours of wrestling with the decision, she couldn’t see how to refuse. It was a small enough service for her country, and she couldn’t ignore the fact that she would be paid for it. Morally and practically, there really was only one road to follow.
“Port, Falconer.” David handed Greville a glass, his tone a little chilly, a question in his eyes. Greville instantly let his hand fall from Aurelia’s elbow and took the glass with a smile of thanks. He moved away with a murmur of excuse.
“You seem to know the fellow well enough, Ellie,” David said, his eyes following him.
“No, not so well. He was a friend of my husband’s however.” Her smile was constrained, her voice dropping. “He called on me earlier today because he thought Frederick would have expected it of him.”
“Oh, I see…I’m sorry. It must be difficult for you.”
“It’s been a long time, David,” she said, looking up at him. “The reminder was a little painful at first, but now I find a comfort in the company of one who knew Frederick so well.”
“Of course. Any way I can be of service, Ellie…you know that.”
“Thank you, David. You’re a good friend.” She smiled and walked away to tend to her guests.
The company drifted away in twos and threes soon after, but Greville lingered in the hall, giving the impression of being on the moment of departure, about to follow the last guest, but when the door was finally closed, he was still there.
“You have an answer for me?” he asked quietly as they stood in the salon amid the detritus of teacups, cake crumbs, and port glasses.
“It seems my duty to help you if I can,” she said simply.
Greville regar
ded her in silence for a long moment, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see into her mind. Then he said, “I am glad you feel that way. Many people will be grateful for your assistance.”
She shook her head in a vague disclaimer. “How do we proceed?”
He matched the businesslike clip in her voice as he replied, “We need to spend a few days alone. There are some essential skills you have to learn, and they’re not the kind of skills that can be learned in Cavendish Square or its ilk.”
“I have a daughter,” she stated drily. “That won’t be possible.”
“It must be,” he said with quiet insistence. “You must find a way to extricate yourself from her for five days.”
Aurelia stared at him, frowning. “Is it really necessary?”
“I wouldn’t say it was if it were not,” he stated with the same quiet insistence.
For the first time Aurelia had a sense of what it would mean to work for this man. He would be controlling every step of the play, and she would have little or no say in the moves. But then, what else had she really expected? She knew nothing about this business, but if she was going to do it, she might as well do it properly.
While she still hesitated, Greville suggested, “Your daughter already has lessons at Mount Street. Could she stay for a few nights?”
“Yes, of course she could,” Aurelia said, flattening her fingertips against her cheeks as she frowned in thought. “My difficulty is finding a reason for needing her to do so.”
Greville tilted his head to one side, a quizzical gleam in his eye. “I’m sure you can think of something convincing.” He reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face. He held them lightly in his as he looked at her closely, once again seeming to read her innermost thoughts. “We will work well together, Aurelia.” It was a statement of intent. “And I look forward to it.”
She pulled back a little, but then let her hands lie in his clasp. But she made no response to his statement and after a moment he said, “Be ready to leave in three days. I’ll let you know the arrangements in plenty of time.”
“Where am I going?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“And how is anyone to contact me then?”
“They can’t…they may not.”
“I have a daughter,” Aurelia repeated.
“Five days, that’s all it will be. Franny will be well taken care of in Mount Street for five days.”
She was doing this largely for Frederick, Aurelia thought with a resurgence of anger. But Frederick hadn’t had to worry about smoothing the path for his disappearances. He hadn’t had to trouble himself with concerns for his daughter…or his wife.
“I’ll manage,” she said grimly, withdrawing her hands from the light clasp.
“Of course you will.” He reached up and touched the point of her chin with his fingertip. When she jerked her head in surprise, he said with a half smile, “A little familiarity is generally considered a necessary component of a romantic interest, my dear.”
“Maybe so. But perhaps we could confine such a component to the public arena, where I can understand its necessity.”
At that he chuckled softly. He bowed and turned to the door. “I’ll see myself out. You’ll receive instructions very soon.”
Aurelia said nothing as he left the room. She stood in meditative silence, one fingertip pressed absently to the point of her chin where she could fancy she still felt the warm pressure of his playful touch.
• • •
Three days later her instructions arrived in the form of a succinct note. The Bell, Woodstreet, Cheapside, eight a.m. tomorrow. Aurelia read and reread it, looking in vain for some hidden meaning. There was no signature, no salutation. Not that she needed either to know its provenance. And there was definitely no hidden meaning. It was a straightforward instruction. Of course, she reflected, in the colonel’s line of work written communication would naturally be kept to a minimum, and as anonymous as possible. And presumably the correct response in the circumstances would be to destroy it instantly. She crumpled the note and threw it in the fire, half laughing at herself for entering into the spirit of this enterprise.
She put on her pelisse and bonnet and set off to Mount Street, hoping to find Nell at home. She caught Nell on the doorstep, just leaving the house.
“Nell, I need to ask you a favor,” she said, hoping she sounded convincingly flustered. She’d decided a sudden emergency would be easier to explain and require little detail, whereas a carefully thought-out story ahead of time would be much harder to stick to.
“Of course, love, anything.” Cornelia looked concerned. “Come in.”
“This won’t take a minute,” Aurelia said swiftly. “You’re going out, I don’t want to keep you.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere special,” Cornelia declared with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I was going to try on a hat, if you must know. A purely frivolous errand. Come in, we can’t talk on the front steps.” She turned and retraced her steps to the front door, banging the knocker once.
The door opened with enviable speed, Aurelia thought, as she followed her friend inside, acknowledging Hector, the butler, who bowed her in with a murmur of greeting.
She followed Nell into her sitting room at the rear of the hall. “You remember my elderly aunt in Bristol…? Well, I’ve just received a letter from her companion. Apparently Aunt Baxter is seriously ill. Matty seemed to imply that she could be on her deathbed, but she’s something of an alarmist. But just in case I think I need to go for a few days. I am her only living relative.”
“Of course you must go, love,” Nell said, pouring two glasses of sherry. “And of course Franny and Daisy shall stay here for as long as necessary.”
Aurelia smiled her relief. She hadn’t even needed to express the request. “I’ll hire a post chaise and leave early tomorrow morning. If it’s really all right, I’ll send Daisy later this afternoon with Franny’s clothes and the little things she can’t do without. She won’t sleep without that scruffy rag doll.”
Aurelia was talking swiftly, almost breathlessly, and her agitation was not feigned. This tangle of lies tripping off her tongue was making her horribly uncomfortable. Even more so as she saw how readily her friend believed her. She took a restorative sip from her sherry glass. “I’ll pop up to the schoolroom now and explain it to Franny.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Much to Aurelia’s relief, Franny seemed quite unperturbed by the news of her mother’s imminent departure. The prospect of staying with Stevie and Susannah had all three children dancing excitedly around the schoolroom, and Aurelia had to beg for a farewell kiss. She left the schoolroom with Cornelia, saying as they reached the hall, “Thank you again, Nell. I must hurry home and make preparations. Daisy will come around five o’clock.”
“Of course,” Cornelia said, accompanying her friend to the door. “As a matter of interest, have you seen that Colonel Falconer recently?”
“Not since that afternoon, a few days ago,” Aurelia said with a creditable imitation of carelessness. “Why?”
“He seemed very attentive that afternoon.” Nell regarded her friend with a slight smile. “We all noticed it. David said he’d known Frederick.”
“Yes, he’d met him once or twice before Trafalgar,” Aurelia said, aware that her palms were growing moist. “I don’t think they were friends particularly. I did ask him if he’d met Stephen too, but he said not.” How she hated lying, but how easily the fabrication tripped off her tongue.
Cornelia gave a casual nod of acceptance and leaned in to kiss her friend good-bye. “Good luck with Aunt Baxter.”
“Thank you.” Aurelia hurried away with a bright wave of farewell, feeling guilty but relieved. And somewhere amidst that guilt and relief lurked a quiver of excitement.
Chapter Seven
THE NEXT MORNING AURELIA slipped out of the house just after dawn and walked briskly towards Wigmore Street in search of a hack
ney. She carried only a small cloakbag. It was a brisk morning, overcast, a touch of frost on the grass in the square garden, and she drew her fur-trimmed pelisse closer around her and changed hands on her bag so that the other hand could warm up in her fur muff.
No one had been around to see her leave. She had told Morecombe the previous evening that she would be going to the country for a few days on urgent family business, and the old man had shown no curiosity. Aurelia hadn’t expected him to. If he bothered to answer the doorknocker in her absence, he would tell any visitors that Lady Farnham had gone out of town and he had no idea when she would be back.
As luck would have it, a hackney was standing at the curb as she turned onto Wigmore Street, and when she raised a hand to call him over, the jarvey clicked up his horses and brought the conveyance up beside her.
“Where to, ma’am?” His voice was muffled in the thick folds of his woolen scarf, and the horses’ breath steamed in the cold air as they shifted their hooves on the cobbles.
“The Bell, Woodstreet, Cheapside,” she instructed.
The man peered down at her uncertainly. “The Bell…Cheapside…you sure, ma’am?”
“Positive,” she said briskly, opening the door to the carriage. “As quickly as you can, if you please.”
“Right y’are.” He still sounded doubtful, but once she’d slammed the door on herself, he cracked his whip and the horses moved forward at a brisk pace.
Aurelia settled back on the worn and cracked leather squabs. She sympathized with the jarvey’s surprise. Ladies accustomed to the elegance of Mayfair did not in general frequent Cheapside.
But neither did they head into the unknown on a clandestine adventure at the behest of a man they barely knew, she reflected wryly. But then Mayfair ladies did not in general find they’d been married to a man they barely knew either. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure Frederick’s presence as he’d been when she last saw him. He and Stephen had been filled with the fever of patriotism, the passionate need to serve their country as they’d stood so proudly on the deck of the man-of-war as it steamed out of Portsmouth harbor down the river to the quiet waters of the Solent. She could hear the drums and pipes of the marine band playing them away and felt again that vicarious thrill that had touched her that afternoon, raising goose prickles on her skin, her eyes glazing over with a mist of emotion.