Bath Scandal

by Joan Smith

  “We’ll come back this evening,” Gillie said before leaving. “Is there anything you want, Tannie? Sugarplums or oranges or cigars?”

  “Just make sure my team are unharmed,” he said, his eyelids beginning to slide closed.

  “Naturally! As if I would not check up on that!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As they drove back to the Royal Bath, Southam expressed his concern at leaving Tannie in the hands of his valet, with no friend or family to assist him.

  Gillie encouraged this line of thought. “There is no counting on Duncan McIvor and that set. They won’t want to miss the races,” she said, but in no condemning way.

  It occurred to Beatrice that Horatio could stay with his nephew, leaving them free to return to Bath without feeling they were abandoning an invalid. Not knowing Horatio’s plans, she did not mention it until she had a chance to talk to him. Her eagerness to take him the money was rising. Horatio would think they had all forgotten him. The blacklegs might have discovered his hiding place by now and beaten him to a pulp. By the time they reached the hotel, she was on nettles to get on with her errand. She did not relish going alone, but Southam was already distracted enough. She would be perfectly safe in his carriage.

  “I must jot a line to Deborah to explain our delay,” he said as he stood at the carriage door to hand the ladies down.

  Beatrice did not dismount. “Could I borrow your carriage for half an hour, Southam?” she asked. “There is something I must attend to before we leave.”

  “Certainly,” he replied, hardly noticing what she said.

  With so many matters preying on their minds, neither of them observed the stocky, swarthy man in the leather waistcoat and fustian jacket loitering around the front of the hotel. Garrity had more than one defaulting bettor to look after. He had temporarily lost track of his leads to Evendon, but he knew where to find one of them. When he saw Beatrice leave in the carriage, he jumped into a hansom cab and followed her.

  Once Southam had written his note, he began to wonder why Beatrice had wanted the carriage. She didn’t know anyone in Bournemouth, so it could not be a social visit. Surely she had not chosen this inopportune moment to go shopping, and alone. Where could she be? He had marked the direction the carriage was heading—not south to the Cliff Promenade, but north, away from the center of town. With rising concern, he went out to the street and began to walk rapidly off in the same direction, his eyes peeling the streets for a sign of his carriage. When he had walked two blocks, he realized he would never catch her up and hailed a cab. He explained that he was looking for a black crested carriage and told the driver to whip the team up, to cover the maximum length of road in the shortest time.

  Meanwhile Beatrice was driven through the better part of the city into a less populated area, clutching her reticule with the thousand pounds in it to her chest. Garrity’s cab followed close behind, unobserved.

  She dismounted at a second-rate hotel and asked John Groom to wait for her. Garrity got out and sauntered nonchalantly along, keeping an eye on her groom. It did not look suspicious for the tout to enter the dingy Old Fox Inn. Indeed, he looked more at home there than Mrs. Searle and her fine rig. Southam’s groom didn’t give him a second glance. Garrity picked up speed once he was inside. Mrs. Searle had already spoken to the clerk and was heading down a corridor to the right. The blackleg hurried after her.

  She tapped quietly at the door; immediately Horatio opened it and Beatrice entered. The blackleg recognized him and slid forward, putting his ear to the door. He had to establish how many people were in the room before he went charging in.

  “Did you think we had abandoned you, Horatio?” Beatrice said.

  “Not for a minute, though I own I was becoming impatient. Did Tannie get the money?”

  “No, I got it. I have it right here.”

  “That’s my darling girl. Come here and I’ll kiss you for that. You’ve saved my old neck.” He gave her a loud smack on the cheek.

  “I have a favor to ask of you in return, Horatio,” she said.

  “Ask away. You have just done me a large favor. I knew I might depend on you, lass.”

  “Tannie is hurt,” she said, and explained the situation. Horatio agreed to go to him that night and see him safely back to Bath when he was well enough to travel.

  Garrity, lurking at the door, heard only two voices, one of them a lady’s. He quietly opened the door and entered. “So there you are, Evendon,” he said. “And with enough money in your hands to choke a horse.”

  “I hope it chokes a swine instead,” Horatio said, and flung it at him.

  The man scrambled about the floor, picking up the bills and counting them carefully. When he had ascertained that it was all there, he said, “I can give you a hot tip on the four o’clock race. Fair Lady is paying seven-to-one. A newcomer, but I hear from her owner that she is a sweet goer.”

  “Be off, man,” Horatio said, and cuffed his ear.

  “No hard feelings, mate. Business is business.”

  The blackleg scuttled out, stuffing his ill-got gains into his jacket. As his cab had left, he had to walk back to town. Southam noticed the hurrying form as his cab passed. He had seen that dark phiz before. He stopped the cab, jumped out and grabbed the man by the throat.

  “Where is she?” he demanded. “If you have touched a hair of her head, I’ll kill you.”

  “Here, watch who you’re mauling, mate. You mean the saucy piece in the fancy rig?” He pointed his thumb down the street. Southam saw his carriage standing outside a disreputable-looking inn.

  “Yes—No! The lady who was in that carriage.”

  “She’s with the old bleater in his room. Never fear he’d harm her. His darling girl, he called her. Kissing and sweet talk is the worst she’s suffering. Take a right turn at the desk, and down two doors. That’s where you will find her.”

  Southam released his hold on the blackleg and pelted forward. His groom recognized him and called out. Southam didn’t stop but called as he ran, “Is Mrs. Searle in there?”

  “Aye. This is where she asked me to bring her. I didn’t think much of the—” He stopped, for Lord Southam was already beyond hearing. Looked as if the hounds of hell were after him. Something queer afoot, from the looks of him.

  Southam darted down the hall and flung open the second door on the left. He saw Beatrice sitting at her ease with the racetrack tout ancient enough to be her father, though not an unattractive man in a raffish way. They were having a glass of wine and chatting as if they were bosom bows.

  “So this is where you are!” he charged.

  Beatrice, not realizing she was being rescued, replied nonchalantly. “Yes, this is where I am. As you are here Southam, let me introduce—”

  “I have no wish to meet your paramour,” he said stiffly. “What you do when you are in Bath is your business. Here, you are under my protection.”

  “Paramour!” she gasped, choking on her wine.

  Horatio shook his head in wonder. “I’ve been called a blackamoor in my time, but what the deuce is a paramour? Sounds like a dashed insult.”

  “You must apologize for that, Lord Southam,” Bea said, rising haughtily from her chair.

  “I’ll be demmed if I’ll apologize to either of you.”

  “You will apologize to the lady if you are a gentleman,” Horatio said, bristling up at this highhanded young buck.

  Southam just reached out his hand and grasped Bea’s fingers. “I am taking you back to the hotel.”

  She wrenched her hand away. “You are taking me nowhere, sir!” she stated firmly. Her Irish temper soared at his high-handed tactics. “I shall leave when I am ready. I’m not your sister, or your fiancée, that you can tell me what I may and may not do.”

  He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and said through clenched teeth, “Beatrice, come with me— now!”

  “The lady said no,” Horatio pointed out.

  “Shut your face, you old fool.”
>
  “Now see here, laddie, you want to show a little respect for your elders.”

  “Southam!” Beatrice said, glaring at him. “You will apologize at once, and stop making a fool of yourself.”

  “Apologize be demmed. I’d blacken his daylights if I weren’t too much of a gentleman to strike an old man.”

  “Don’t let that stop you!” Horatio said, bristling.

  “Just as you wish,” Southam replied, and struck the man a blow across the cheek. It was not hard enough to hurt, yet too hard to be ignored.

  Lord Horatio was a gentleman, whatever his looks or financial condition; he took the only course open to a gentleman who has received such an insult. “Name your second, sir. My man will call on you at the earliest opportunity.”

  “Horatio! Not a duel, for God’s sake!” Bea howled.

  “He struck me in the face. You saw it.” He turned back to Southam. “Name your second, sir.”

  “The Duke of Cleremont,” Southam said.

  Horatio stared to hear his nephew’s name. “Mr. Runciman will call on him,” he said.

  “I never heard such foolishness in my life,” Beatrice said, and marched out the door, confident that no duel would take place when the duke was flat on his back and likely to be hors de combat for some time.

  In the carriage she sat like a stone during the first few blocks. Southam, too, kept a sullen silence. He was by now thoroughly ashamed of himself and also highly curious to learn what Beatrice had been doing with that old man who called her his darling girl and kissed her.

  Curiosity finally got the better of him and he said, “I think you owe me an explanation, Cousin.”

  “I owe you a good thrashing. What were you thinking of, to involve Tannie, who is sick as a dog, in a duel with his uncle.”

  “His uncle!”

  “Of course, Lord Horatio is his uncle. I was taking him the thousand pounds I borrowed from you, since Tannie was unable to do it.”

  “Good God, you might have told me so!”

  “You might have waited for an explanation before you started beating up an old man.”

  “I did not beat him up. I tapped him on the cheek. He is the one who started this business of a duel.”

  “What did you expect, when you slapped him?”

  “I expected him to apologize.”

  “For what? For sitting innocently in his own room? It is all your own fault, and you know it perfectly well. You must apologize and withdraw the challenge.”

  “I did not make the challenge; therefore I cannot withdraw it. It is for Lord Horatio to pull in his horns and admit he is in the wrong.”

  “He is not in the wrong. You apologize, and I shall see to it that he withdraws the challenge.”

  “You have that sort of influence with the old bleater, do you?”

  “He owes me a thousand pounds. He’ll do as I say.”

  “He owes me a thousand pounds.”

  “No, I owe you a thousand pounds, and that does not mean I shall do as you say.”

  “What’s sauce for the goose ...”

  “I don’t want you to mention this to Tannie. He is not well enough to be bothered with this foolishness. In fact, you had best turn this carriage around, or Horatio will have sent Mr. Runciman off to see the duke. Why on earth did you say Tannie, of all people?”

  “I don’t know anyone else in Bournemouth!” he shouted.

  “This is a fine pickle. What will Lady Sappington say when she hears of this? What will Deborah say?” She pinned him with a wicked eye. “I shouldn’t blame her in the least if she turns you off.”

  Southam heard the magic words and felt strongly inclined to go on with the duel. “I’ll have Tannie suggest someone else to take his place as my second,” he said.

  Beatrice sniffed and turned her head aside to look out the window. It was all a tempest in a teapot. Horatio and Southam would meet at Tannie’s hotel this evening and straighten the misunderstanding out between them. Neither one, she felt sure, really wanted to fight. As they went into the hotel, she said, “It would be scandalous for you to have a duel with a man so much older than yourself. It would alienate the duke’s family, and prevent Gillie from making the match.”

  He held the door as she sailed into the hotel. “She is too young to marry,” he said. “I have not agreed to the match. In fact, I told you earlier that I plan to take Gillie home for a year.”

  “You know perfectly well you’d leap at it if she expressed any real interest. And furthermore, it will not do my reputation any good to be involved in this imbroglio.”

  “There is no need for your name to arise. The altercation was over a gambling debt.”

  “I can see Tannie keeping that under his hat. He’ll let it out the first time he opens his mouth.”

  “You should choose your male friends with more care, Cousin.”

  “I did not choose the friend who has caused this fracas. He just happens to be my late husband’s cousin,” she snapped, and swept past him to run upstairs.

  Southam went into the taproom to drown his sorrows in ale. He had made a fine botch of things. Deborah was waiting for him at Bath, while he was mired in a duel in Bournemouth with the uncle of the best catch his sister was ever likely to make. A duke of vast wealth and prestige. Deborah would kill him if he botched that match. She very likely would turn him off, he thought hopefully. But then, Beatrice would not have him, either. He was demmed if he did, and demmed if he didn’t. He ordered another ale, and found it gave him a thumping headache. He wished he had never come to Bournemouth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beatrice feared that if she had to face Southam over the dinner table that evening, she would strike him. For that reason, she claimed fatigue and ate in her room. When Miss Pittfield visited her after dinner, she knew from Bea’s air of distraction that something was amiss. After a few prevarications, Bea told her the story of Southam’s duel.

  Miss Pittfield sat stunned by the news. “Southam involved in a duel! Surely you jest, Mrs. Searle.”

  “I assure you that is not my idea of a joke, ma’am.”

  “So that is why he didn’t eat his dinner,” Miss Pittfield said. “He sat like a man in a daze, pushing his food around his plate like a child. He’s gone mad, that’s what it is. We must talk him out of it.”

  “Of course, but that is only half the problem. We shall also have to talk Lord Horatio out of it, for it was he who issued the challenge, and you know how foolishly gentlemen behave when their honor is involved.”

  “Yes, when they start prating of honor, you know they are about to do something ridiculous and indefensible so far as common sense goes. Honor has caused more mischief among men than any other thing—except perhaps women.”

  “I fear the duel will give Miss Swann a disgust of him,” Bea said, looking from the corner of her eye. She knew she was not imagining that light of hope that gleamed on her caller’s face. “I daresay the best thing would be to get it all sewed up here tomorrow before we return to Bath.”

  Miss Pittfield listened, fell silent a moment, then spoke. “Much better to do it in Bath.” To give this suggestion an air of innocence, she added, “There is no saying. It might all blow over, and it would be a shame to rush them into a duel if a breathing spell might prevent it.”

  “Perhaps you are right. We’ll encourage Southam to return to Bath tomorrow morning as planned and delay the duel until Lord Horatio brings the duke back to his aunt.”

  “How long do you figure that will take?”

  “A week, perhaps. That should be enough to cool tempers.”

  “Meanwhile there will be gossip of a duel,” Miss Pittfield said, not quite smiling.

  “It will mean that Miss Swann stays with us for that week,” Bea said, and drew a discontented sigh.

  “It will be worth it, if it means we do not have to live with her for the rest of our lives,” Miss Pittfield said, and laughed at her daring.

  The truth was out now, and the
two ladies could get down to some decent gossip and planning, with no honor to disturb their enjoyment.

  After dinner Southam took Gillie to visit Tannie. He trusted the duke would not discuss the duel in front of Gillie, nor did he. He had written the duke a note before dinner. His servant had brought back a reply announcing Tannie’s willingness to help. He had suggested Duncan McIvor as a replacement for himself.

  It was a relief to see that Tannie was in good spirits and not suffering unduly. He spoke of returning to Bath in two or three days.

  Lord Horatio bowed stiffly when they entered, and immediately excused himself. When the guests were leaving, Tannie said in a meaningful voice, “Mr. McIvor will drop around at your hotel this evening if it is convenient, Lord Southam. There is something he would like to discuss with you. I suggested nine-thirty in the taproom of the Royal Bath,”

  “I’ll be there,” Southam replied.

  Gillie proceeded to the door, and Tannie said quietly, “I say, Lord Southam, you won’t kill Uncle, I hope? Mama would dislike it very much. So would I, for that matter.”

  “I have no intention of shooting to kill. Indeed, I do not wish for this duel. It was your uncle who issued the challenge.”

  “That is odd! Uncle will usually walk a mile to avoid a duel. Since he killed Lord Peter Almquist ten years ago, he has never fought a duel. Mind you, he keeps his shooting up, just in case. A dead shot. He can take the eye out of a pigeon from a hundred yards.”

  Southam swallowed in astonishment and left, his eagerness for the duel greatly diminished. He was a fair shot himself, but he doubted whether he would have the sangfroid to aim his gun at a fellow human being. He would have to apologize. There was nothing else for it. He could not risk getting himself killed for no reason. He had his three sisters to look after. He’d ask Mr. McIvor this evening to deliver his apologies, and hope that Lord Horatio’s blood lust would not insist on the match.