The angry officer turned and shouted to the back of the hall. “Sergeant!”
“Sir!”
“Round up your troops and arrest that man!”
From Abigail’s left, Jack muttered, “That tears it proper.”
“And while you’re at it,” the officer yelled, “round up his compatriots and arrest them as well!”
“Time to fly,” Jack hissed.
“Straightaway to Newgate Prison with the lot!” The officer roared, his voice carrying above the fray. “Give them a taste of something they won’t soon forget!”
Chapter 4
Once they were seated at the dining table, Lillian said, “You really are too kind to me.”
“Nonsense,” Lavinia Aldridge replied. “I am only doing what any person should, which is offer a friend a helping hand.”
To many in London society, Lavinia Aldridge was a paradox. She now sat regal as a queen in her realm, though many thought she did not belong in such upper echelons. After all, her husband’s former political power was gone. Now he was merely a merchant trader, and an American at that. They seldom invited anyone to their home on Grosvenor Square. They lived like social hermits. Yet here she sat, at the head of one of London’s finest tables, certainly the nicest of those banished from the current royal court. And she was not merely calm and collected. She looked as if she belonged.
But the oddness only began there. Lavinia dressed in a style that was only a half shade removed from severe. There was no adornment to her dress. No plunging neckline, no silver buttons, no embroidered design. She did not even wear jewelry, save for a relatively modest wedding ring. Yet the ivory taffeta was of the finest quality, and Lavinia Aldridge held herself with regal bearing. She had the poise and assurance to defy current standards. Though Lillian was dressed in the height of fashion, and though she was considered a woman of startling beauty, somehow she was the one who felt tawdry seated beside this calm, strong lady.
And Lillian’s current objective only made her feel the worse.
She looked at her bejeweled hands, the perfectly buffed nails reflecting light from the chandeliers and the table’s candelabra. She scarcely whispered the word friends.
“Indeed so.” Lavinia gave her the scarcest nudge. “Friend enough to warn you that eyes are upon you right the table round.”
Lillian straightened in her chair. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“So I thought. Now smile and tell me about your boy.”
Lillian felt herself relax. “Byron is a grand, healthy fifteen-year-old. Four years ago he was utterly miserable going off to boarding school. This year he could not depart for Eton soon enough. He is adorable and intelligent and proud to be so independent of his poor mama. I am the one who pines for him now.”
Lavinia observed her with an odd smile. “Excuse me for saying. But I still have difficulty believing you are of an age to have a fifteen-year-old son. You scarcely look a day older than my own Abigail.”
It was on Lillian’s lips to speak the truth. She so yearned to confess all to this woman. How she was being blackmailed by a scoundrel who wished ill upon this fine woman and the Aldridge family. But if she did, her own existence would come crashing down around her. And even worse, her son’s future would be destroyed.
Lillian dropped her eyes, the movement enough to dislodge one tear.
“Forgive me, my dear Countess. I had no idea what I was saying.”
Even her title seemed a lie in this fine woman’s mouth. “You must call me Lillian.”
“I will, and gladly, but only if you call me Lavinia and will smile for me once more.”
Lillian did so. “Perhaps I should not have come.”
“Nonsense. What a lovely smile you have; you should reveal it more often. Now then. I do not recall learning your birth family’s name.”
“It is seldom mentioned.” Lillian took the hardest breath of a very hard day and spoke a lie she hated before it was uttered. “I was born to clergy in the north of Lincolnshire.”
Lavinia was genuinely delighted. “You are a believer, then.”
She would taint this evening with no more falsehoods than absolutely required. “I-I fear not.”
Lavinia’s obvious disappointment disappeared behind her own bright smile. “There is always hope.”
“Hope?” Their host leaned forward far enough to peer over and take in both ladies. “What hope is there in enduring this meal when my two beautiful guests insist upon keeping their heads together and excluding me from their conversation?”
Lillian turned all her charm upon the elderly gentleman. “Forgive me, sir, it was hardly intended—”
But Lillian was never granted an opportunity to complete her thought. For the ruckus rising from the front hall was such their host had no choice but to turn to the nearest footman and say, “Go see to that and report back, will you.”
“Certainly, my lord.”
Before he could depart, however, the majordomo came hurrying through the salon’s main entrance and aimed straight for where the earl sat. The entire table pretended not to listen as he leaned forward and said, “I beg your pardon, my lord. But there appears to be a matter which can’t wait.”
“Speak up, will you, Nathan. You know how hard of hearing I’ve become.”
The majordomo did no such thing. In fact, he seemed to be directing his low tone toward the two ladies seated on the earl’s left. “There is a representative of the Aldridge household, with another gentleman. And they bring the most distressing report.”
Lavinia was already on her feet. “Dear Father above, tell me my children are safe.”
Lillian rose in the same instant. Nathan included her in the even more muted discussion. “I fear he has ill tidings with respect to your daughter, Mrs. Aldridge.”
Lavinia’s eyes were already searching the night beyond the elegant drawing room with its gleaming silverware and brilliant candlelight. “I must go to her.”
“Of course you must.” Lillian turned back to their host. “My lord, I beg you forgive us for—”
“Please, my dear lady. Say nothing more. You will accompany her?”
“Perhaps it would be best.”
“Most definitely. Only promise to send me a note tomorrow and confirm that all is well in the Aldridge household.” The earl raised his voice for the benefit of all the table. “Godspeed to you, my dear Mrs. Aldridge. And my very best regards to your husband. Now off with you both.”
The only sound in the room was the rustling of their starched petticoats. They passed through the great double doors, descended the main staircase, and entered the front foyer. Lavinia reached for the uniformed gentleman waiting by the porter’s stand, but did not quite touch him. “Tell me my Abigail is all right!”
The man, no doubt in his late fifties, had the seamed face of one who had lived through hard times. A former foot soldier, was Lillian’s guess. But the other man who stood in the shadows by the front doorway was something else entirely. His own features were so scarred and battered he looked almost demented. His hair was long and so scraggly it looked greased by the rain which had again started to fall.
The man from the Aldridge household said, “This fellow appeared at the front gates nigh on an hour ago, ma’am. What he claims, well, I don’t have any way of knowing—”
“It’s true, your ladyship. Every word from my lips, as God is my witness.”
Lavinia clearly suffered mightily from not knowing her daughter’s fate. Still she managed to draw herself erect and address the stranger in a clear voice. “And you are?”
“The name is Jack, your ladyship. A scallywag and thief what deserves nothing better than the hangman’s noose and the bottomless pit. But saved and sanctified by the grace of our Lord and Savior.”
“You are a believer?”
“Aye, your ladyship. That I am. Thanks be to God.”
Lillian decided it was time to move things onward, as clearly Lavinia was fearful to ask the necessary que
stions. “Tell us how you come to know the young Miss Aldridge.”
“I’ve been lodge porter to the Soho Square Church for nigh on six years now, ma’am.”
Lavinia protested, “B-but my Abigail has never set foot in Soho.”
“Well, ma’am, that is, I . . .”
Lillian touched her new friend on the hand. Let me take care of this, the gesture said. “Never mind that now. The Soho Church, you say.”
“We was out spreading the Word tonight.” Nervously the man directed his explanation toward Lillian. “And we wound up in a spot of bother.”
When the man hesitated, Lillian urged him with, “Bother, you say?”
“Aye, well, more than a spot.” Jack wavered, then confessed, “They was all arrested, like.”
Had Lillian not been there to hold her aloft, Lavinia would have gone down. She feebly protested, “B-but that’s impossible. My Abigail, she wouldn’t, she couldn’t—”
Lillian squeezed the arm she held more tightly. She inquired, “How did you manage to evade capture?”
“I’ve been a night scavenger since I fled the borstal, ma’am. I know how to give the peelers the nick.”
“You’re certain they were arrested?”
“Saw them taken away, I did. The reverend and me best mate and young Miss Aldridge.”
“Did you hear where they were taken?”
“I heard the officer give the order,” the man reluctantly replied.
Lillian dreaded the response, but she had to make certain. “Go on, man, out with it.”
His eyes shone with a fearful light. “They was all taken to Newgate Prison.”
“Then there’s not a moment to lose.” Lillian knew she had to take charge. Lavinia was not in any state to address these issues, particularly when time was of the essence. She addressed the man by the door, “You there. You’re of the Aldridge household?”
“That I am, your ladyship.”
“Your name and position?”
“Ben Talbot, your ladyship. Mr. Aldridge, he calls me the houseman, but I suppose you could say I’m general dogsbody. The Aldridges don’t hold with a house full of servants—”
“You have a carriage outside?” she inserted quietly into the conversation.
“That I do, ma’am.”
“Very well.” She turned to Lavinia, whose face had gone ashen. “Listen to me, Lavinia. We don’t have a moment to lose. Do you count a magistrate among your close friends?”
Lavinia shook her head dumbly. “Surely there has been a mistake,” she finally forced out.
“For all our sakes, I hope so. But we must act upon what we know.” She tightened her grip further and shook the woman gently. “You must help me here, Lavinia.”
Her eyes unclouded. “Abigail!”
“Precisely.” Lillian made certain the woman actually saw her. “You heard what the man just said. Your daughter is being held at Newgate.”
Clearly these words had no meaning to Lavinia, but Lillian’s tone was enough to bring the world into focus. “What do I do?”
“A magistrate. I know of one, but he and his family are on a tour of the Continent.”
“Th-there is an elder in our church.”
“He is a friend?”
“Yes. But must we speak of such a thing? That is, well . . .” Lavinia’s breath came with as much difficulty as her words. “People will know.”
“Listen to me, Lavinia. What people will or will not be saying tomorrow is the last of your worries just now.”
“Her ladyship is right, Mrs. Aldridge,” Ben Talbot chipped in. “A young lady such as Miss Abigail spending the night in Newgate Prison, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“Yes. Of course.” Lavinia fastened a pleading gaze upon Lillian. “You know what must be done?”
“I do.”
“Please help me.”
“I will.” She asked Mr. Talbot, “You are familiar with this magistrate?”
“Aye, ma’am. Know him well, I do.”
“You will take us there.” She ushered Lavinia toward where the earl’s footman held their wraps. “We must make all possible haste.”
Once in the carriage, however, Lillian had a sudden thought. She leaned out the window and spoke up to where Ben Talbot was urging the horses to greater speed. “I say, would it take us far out of our way to stop by the Aldridges?”
“The magistrate lives just the next park over, ma’am.”
“Then stop by the Aldridge residence first, please.” She pulled her head back inside and started to explain her intentions. But Lavinia’s face bore the stricken expression of one already overburdened. She simply grasped the woman’s hand in both of hers.
Lavinia asked weakly, “Can this be happening?”
“Let us see ourselves through this night, and then tomorrow we can ask all the questions we care to.”
“Oh, that this would happen while my husband is out of the country!”
“Speaking of the gentleman, does Mr. Aldridge keep a sum of money on hand in the house?”
Once more there was the confused expression of a woman seeking to make sense of a foreign tongue. “I beg your pardon?”
“We need money, Lavinia. Gold coin would be best, but anything will do.”
“My husband does much business from the office he keeps in our home. He keeps a strongbox.”
“Do you have a key?”
The night’s horror seemed to grow in Lavinia’s features with each question. “Of course, but the magistrate will not seek recompense, particularly not this time of night.”
Lillian decided there was nothing to be gained by explaining further. “I want you to fill a purse with gold coin.” The carriage halted before a townhouse bordering Grosvenor Square. Lillian flung open the door. “Now hurry!”
The townhouse was one of a series, all of them stout Georgian brick in design, four sash windows wide, and bordered with square-cut granite block. A night watchman strolled the broad sidewalk and touched the rim of his hat with his stick. Tallow wicks burnished the night from within their well-cleaned lampposts. The trees of Grosvenor Square were tall and stately. Lights burned a warm welcome from many a window. Another carriage passed with the mellow sounds of horses’ hooves and smooth-rolling wheels. The night air was scented with fires to ward off the damp, some of them burning fragrant cedar chips. The scene was one of calm and safety and wealth. But nothing could hold the danger at bay. Nor all the memories that pressed Lillian forward with such apprehension.
She helped Lavinia manage the front stairs. A maidservant opened the door. “Oh, Mrs. Aldridge, I’m so very—”
“Has there been any word from my daughter?”
“No, ma’am. Nothing at all from Miss Abigail.”
Lillian stepped up close to remind the distraught mother, “Your husband’s office, Lavinia. The strongbox. A purse. Quickly.”
She let her go forward alone. Lillian turned to the maidservant and said, “I am the Countess Houghton, a friend. Do you know what is amiss?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do, my lady. I heard the man say Newgate Prison!” Her voice broke.
“I need two good stout robes. Black would do best. Something utterly without adornment.”
“Mrs. Aldridge has just such a one. She keeps it for Sabbath occasions.” The maid examined Lillian. “I suppose my own might fit your ladyship. But it’s hardly suitable.”
“That is not something which concerns us this night.”
“No, of course not, my lady. I won’t be a moment.”
Lillian was helping Lavinia back into the coach when the maid hurried down the front stairs, her arms gripping a bundle black as the cloudy sky overhead. “Here you are, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her voice. “The magistrate’s!”
“Right you are, ma’am.” Ben Talbot flicked his whip. “Hyah!”
Chapter 5
Edward Huffington resided in a townhouse of brick so dark it looked black in the flicke
ring streetlights. Ben Talbot bounded down from the carriage’s high seat and raced up the front steps. He hammered the big brass knocker and hallooed the house.
Light finally glimmered in the curved window over the door. Lavinia started to move as soon as the door cracked open. Lillian placed two fingers upon Lavinia’s arm and said quietly, “Let your man handle this.”
“But you said it was urgent!”
“Lavinia, I do not know you well enough to ask this, but ask I must. I want you to trust me utterly tonight.”
Lillian was prepared for vehement protests. Instead the other woman examined her for a very long moment, then said quietly, “I have no idea what I would do were you not here beside me.”
“I am quite certain you would have coped splendidly.” Lavinia captured the hand upon her arm. “God’s hand was upon our meeting tonight.”
Had Lavinia slapped Lillian’s face, the shock could not have been any harsher. “What are you saying?”
Ben Talbot’s ruddy features appeared in the carriage door. “His honor ain’t pleased about it, but he’ll see you, ma’am.”
Lillian forced her legs to carry herself up the front steps, Lavinia at her side, and through the confined foyer. Then she turned back long enough to call out through the front door, “Jack—did you not say that was your name?”
“Indeed so, your ladyship.” The man lifted a tattered hat.
“I think you had best join us.”
The butler was minus his powdered wig, and his long coat was buttoned up incorrectly. He glared at the pair of ladies as he held the candle aloft. “The kitchen stove is cold, ma’am, and the cook is abed. I fear—”
“Never mind that, Harry,” said a man behind the butler. “Mrs. Aldridge knows this household keeps to early hours.” The heavyset Mr. Huffington’s hair was mussed, his bulk fitted into an ancient housecoat. But his eyes were warm as he came forward with hand outstretched. “I am certain she would only be here with something urgent.”
The kindness of Huffington’s greeting was enough to dissolve Lavinia’s fragile hold. She burst into tears and gripped the magistrate’s hand with both of hers.
“My dear Mrs. Aldridge, what ever is the matter?”
Heirs of Acadia - 02 - The Innocent Libertine Page 4