‘Stop talking. I want to kiss you.’
‘You cannot kiss me. You have not asked Aunt Letitia leave to pay your addresses to me.’
‘I’ faith, I did not say I wanted to marry you, only to kiss you.’
‘Then you cannot have kisses without marriage, and I don’t want to marry you.’
The fact that Lady Bellisle had not wanted to marry him had wounded his pride and irritated him, but nothing more. But Jenny’s saying she did not want to marry him caused him a stab of acute anguish. He looked at Jenny in dawning amazement – amazement that such a little chit should already have the power to inflict such pain on him.
The only way he could think to ease that pain was to kiss her.
And so he did.
And he went on kissing her, uncaring of the blows she was raining on his chest. His kisses were gentle, serious, passionate, and intent. Jenny decided wildly that if she stopped fighting him, and lay limp in his arms as if she had fainted, he would soon stop. But before he raised his mouth from hers, her body had already begun to respond in a dreadful way. The minute she found herself free, she should have leapt to her feet. But instead, her arms seemed to wind themselves about his neck of their own accord, and her lips blindly sought his.
After some time, he untied the ribbons of her bonnet and pulled it from her head, and then buried his lips in her hair.
The very noise and fury of the storm, combined with their passions, kept all thought of the conventions at bay. It was only kissing. No amount of thunder and lightning would make the duke forget himself as much as that. But the kisses became more dragging, more lingering, sweeter to the point of pain.
He was stretched out beside her on the floor, her hands were buried in the crisp golden curls at the nape of his neck, his hands were moulding her face, when a harsh voice called, ‘What’s this ’ere?’
The duke sprang to his feet and Jenny scrambled up after him.
The watch, accompanied by the parish constable, were standing in the doorway.
‘There is no need for alarm,’ said the duke haughtily. ‘I am Pelham.’
‘And I am the Archbishop o’ Canterbury,’ sneered the watch. ‘Firing pistols in the night and frightening the neighbours. It’s off to the round-house with you and your doxy, my fine sir!’
Before the storm broke, there had already been a feeling of friction and tension in the servants’ hall, as if an emotional storm were slowly approaching from the west, borne on the black thunder-clouds covering London.
Joseph was racked with a mixture of spite and guilt. Perhaps if they had all gone to bed at a reasonable time, matters would have remained the way they were for a little longer. But Rainbird was still absent, and they were all waiting for the butler and Dave and wondering what had become of them.
‘They would probably have heard the thunder and have gone somewhere for shelter,’ said Mrs Middleton. At that moment, a great white light flashed into the servants’ hall as the lightning stabbed down overhead. Mrs Middleton screamed. Then there was a great crack of thunder.
‘Oh, Angus!’ cried Mrs Middleton. ‘It sounds like the end of the world!’
‘There, now,’ said the cook. ‘I’m here, my good lady. There is nothing to fright you.’
He put an arm about her shoulders and Mrs Middleton forgot herself so much as to lean against him and smile up into his face.
‘What’s this?’ cried Joseph. ‘A-kissing and canoodling like a pair o’ lovebirds. Seems to me, Mr Rainbird’ll have something to say about this.’
‘Leave the good lady alone and mind your own business, young man,’ said Fergus quietly. He covered Alice’s hand with his own, and Alice blushed and looked down.
‘This is what I get for all my loyalty,’ shouted Joseph. ‘Everyone’s smelling of April and May, ’cept Lizzie, who prefers to sell her body.’
Angus crossed the kitchen and jerked the footman to his feet by his cravat.
‘I’ve a guid mind tae wash your mouth out with soap,’ he said.
‘It’s true,’ said Joseph. ‘Ask her. Ask Lizzie who she was with in Oxford Street tonight. Oh, we’re going to get the pub, ain’t we? And we’re all going to live happily ever after, ain’t we? Mrs Middleton will marry Rainbird and I’ll marry Lizzie and we’ll all be one big happy family in that poxy, tumbledown pub in the country. Fah! Ask her where she’s been and what’s she’s been doin’ of.’
Angus made a noise of disgust and let the footman go. Mrs Middleton said quietly, ‘Lizzie! What is all this about?’
‘I was going to tell you,’ said Lizzie. ‘I didn’t have the courage before. I am going to be married.’
‘Married? To whom?’
‘To a Mr Paul Gendreau. He was the Comte St Bertin’s valet. But the comte died and left him money.’
‘And you fell for it,’ jeered Joseph. ‘Whenever did a valet with money marry the likes of you?’
‘He is going to marry me,’ shouted Lizzie. ‘And I’m going away and I am not going to the pub. So there!’
‘And I’m not going to that pub neither, then,’ yelled Joseph. ‘I’m going to be the Charterises’ first footman. And it’s all on account o’ you, Lizzie. I knew you was playing me false.’
‘You don’t care for me one bit,’ said Lizzie. ‘Not one little bit! All you care about’s yourself, you great popinjay.’
Incensed, Joseph slapped Lizzie across the face. With a growl, the cook fell on Joseph and the pair rolled over on the floor, Angus punching and Joseph screaming and kicking and gouging.
The door opened and Rainbird walked in, followed by Dave. He jumped on the two fighters and tried to pull them apart, calling to Fergus for help. At last Joseph and Angus were separated.
‘What is going on?’ demanded Rainbird, seizing a towel and wiping the rainwater from his face.
An angry babble of voices answered him.
‘One at a time,’ said the butler, sitting down. His eyes went over their faces. ‘You first, Mrs Middleton.’
‘I am to marry Angus MacGregor, Mr Rainbird,’ said Mrs Middleton.
Joseph’s malicious eyes darted eagerly to the butler’s face, waiting to see it contorted in anger, but to his surprise, Rainbird looked immensely relieved. The butler rose to his feet, raised Mrs Middleton’s hand to his lips, and kissed it.
‘All happiness to you both,’ he said. ‘This is a cause for celebration, not fighting. Now, what started the trouble? Lizzie?’
Lizzie, tearful and defiant, told the story of her engagement.
‘Well, be it a respectable offer, then I am happy for you,’ said Rainbird quietly. ‘But why did this Gendreau fellow not call on me?’
‘Because of the pub,’ said Lizzie wretchedly. ‘I hadn’t the courage to say I would not be going with you.’
‘Then you must tell him to call on me tomorrow – today,’ amended Rainbird with a glance at the clock. ‘You have no family but us, Lizzie, and you need someone to interview this gentleman for you.’
‘She was promised to me,’ said Joseph. ‘You know that.’
‘It was understood, yes,’ said Rainbird. ‘But I never thought you would suit.’
‘What!’ screeched Joseph, sounding like a parrot getting its tail feathers pulled.
‘And Joseph is not going with us either,’ said Mrs Middleton. ‘He is to be first footman for Lord Charteris.’
‘So Blenkinsop got after you, did he?’ said Rainbird. ‘How can you think of going on being a servant when freedom is at hand, Joseph?’
Everyone had forgotten that the intently listening Fergus was not supposed to know about their future.
‘I’ was on account of Lizzie being unfaithful to me,’ said Joseph sulkily.
‘The real truth, Joseph,’ said Rainbird sharply.
‘S’welp me Gawd . . .’
‘Joseph!’
‘Well, I didn’t want to go to the country,’ muttered Joseph. ‘There’s nothing there for a fellow to do. All horses and sheep and cows
and smelly animals like that. Waiting on table in ordinary dress. No livery.’
‘But our livery is a very sign of our servitude!’
‘You may think what you like about your’n,’ said Joseph hotly, ‘but I look very fine in mine . . . when it’s brushed and pressed, that is, and hasn’t been mauled around by some Scotch barbarian.’
‘Enough, Joseph,’ chided Rainbird, seeing the cook was ready to return to the battle. ‘So now we have a situation where neither Lizzie nor Joseph will be with us . . . or . . . ?’
He cocked his head and looked inquisitively at Alice, who sat hand in hand with Fergus.
‘I must speak to my master first,’ said Fergus. ‘But I have asked Alice if she will be willing to have me and she has said yes. I cannot marry without his grace’s permission, but I trust he will find me employ as perhaps a keeper on one of his estates. He can be very haughty, but he has never been so with me. And since he has been here, I have detected a softening in his attitude to others.’
‘But you could always join our venture,’ said Mrs Middleton.
‘Perhaps,’ said Fergus. But the jealous Fergus wanted Alice all to himself and did not want to share her with these servants, who, he feared, might turn out to behave towards him in the manner of so many mothers-in-law.
‘And Jenny?’ asked Rainbird.
‘Angus and I are going to adopt Jenny,’ said Mrs Middleton. ‘Now that Lizzie and Alice are settled, it would only be fair to give our Jenny the position of daughter of the house.’
The others cheered and laughed at the idea, telling the chambermaid that Angus would have her speaking Gaelic in no time at all. Only Joseph sat silent. No one had screamed or protested at his going. No one wanted to adopt him – not that he wanted a quiz like Angus MacGregor for a father.
‘Aye, it’s going to be me and Mrs Middleton and Jenny with Mr Rainbird and Dave to run the pub,’ said Angus.
‘No,’ said Rainbird quietly.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Dave burst into speech. ‘Mr Rainbird’s goin’ on the stage, wiff me to help him. We’re goin’ to be ever so rich. Strewth! You should ha’ seen that audience tonight laugh and cheer and the Duke o’ Pelham hisself right in the side box watchin’ Mr Rainbird act the part o’ Palmer, juggling the books.’
Rainbird was immediately surrounded by them all, demanding to know what Dave was talking about. He told them about his performance and of how he had decided to show up Palmer on the stage.
When all the exclamations and questions had died down, Fergus said, ‘Why did you not tell my master of your suspicions?’
‘Because,’ said Rainbird, ‘when I listened at the door to him talking to Palmer, he seemed surprised at the paucity of our wages but not as shocked as he should be. I do not know him well and feared he might prove clutch-fisted.’
‘Not his grace,’ said Fergus loyally. ‘He is often cold and indifferent-seeming with both servants and soldiers, and yet he always treats them fairly and looks out for their welfare. Me, he has treated more as a friend than servant. I have never had reason to complain of the money he pays me.’
‘But can we afford to run this pub now?’ asked Mrs Middleton. ‘Alice and Lizzie will need dowries. Joseph will keep his share of the money, as will you and Dave.’
‘You can keep mine,’ said Rainbird, ‘and Dave’s. We talked about it on the way back.’
‘Mr Gendreau told me I need no dowry,’ said Lizzie. ‘So you can have mine.’
‘Provided his grace agrees to my marriage and sets me up in some capacity,’ added Fergus, ‘then I do not wish a dowry from Alice.’
‘What’s that hammering at the door!’ cried Rainbird, starting up.
He ran up the back stairs, followed by Joseph, Angus, and Fergus.
A member of the Horse Patrol stood on the steps, instantly recognizable as such by his blue greatcoat, black leather hat, and scarlet waistcoat.
‘There’s a swell cove locked up in the round-house with his moll what says he’s the Duke o’ Pelham. He says if his man, Fergus, comes along, he can vouch for his identity.’
‘We will all go,’ said Rainbird. ‘It must be the duke himself, for he is not yet returned.’
All the momentous things that had happened in the servants’ hall, all the changes in their future plans had kept everyone overexcited. The ladies would not consider being left behind.
So, to the Horse Patrol officer’s amazement, it was a whole household of servants who walked behind his horse as he led them through the rain-washed streets to the round-house. Far above the twisted, jumbled chimneys, the thunder gave a last menacing grumble, and the stars shone in a clear sky.
The Duke of Pelham thought he would never get free, even after the arrival of his servants. Everyone was shouting explanations. Miss Jenny Sutherland had so far forgotten herself as to run from one servant to another, hugging them and calling them ‘the best of people’, and telling them that Palmer had indeed been cheating the duke.
When he was finally borne out of the round-house at the front of the little crowd, it was to find that Rainbird had every intention of going straight to Palmer’s lodgings and confronting him.
‘When you identified me, I immediately ordered Palmer’s arrest,’ said the duke wearily. ‘Leave the matter to the authorities. I found all the money he had stolen from me.’
‘I found it!’ said Jenny hotly. ‘You would never have found it by yourself. Oh, do let us go, Pelham, and see the end to the story.’
She was hanging on his arm and smiling up into his face. His heart gave a lurch. ‘Very well,’ he said weakly. He turned to Rainbird. ‘But immediately we get home, I want an explanation from you.’
Palmer lived in lodgings off Oxford Circus. But by the time they got there, the agent had already fled. A man who lived in the attics above his office, who had heard the shot and alerted the constable, had run round to Palmer’s lodgings to tell him that an impostor calling himself the Duke of Pelham had been arrested. From his description of the ‘impostor’, Palmer knew the game was up. For if the duke had shot open the office door instead of waiting to see him in the morning, then it was certain the duke had somehow found out about his, Palmer’s, trickery.
‘Let us try the coaching stations,’ cried Rainbird.
‘No, leave it be,’ said the duke. ‘The authorities will find him if he can be found.’
They meekly obeyed him this time, and they all set out on foot for Clarges Street.
It was a silent group. Rainbird knew he was going to have an unpleasant interview; Fergus dreaded the duke’s possibly refusing to give him a post that would allow him to marry.
Jenny was blushing all over as she thought of her own behaviour in Palmer’s office. All that time in the round-house, the duke had not said one word of love, only raged up and down demanding their release.
‘Everyone into the front parlour,’ said the duke when they reached Number 67. ‘And let’s get to the bottom of this.’
Jenny stood back a little. He seemed to have forgotten her existence. She felt she should go home and yet knew she would not sleep unless he smiled at her just once more or showed some sign that he cared for her, if only a little.
At first the duke found it hard to make out what it was all about as everyone started to talk at once. They were going to buy a pub; the chambermaid was crying out that she was the cook’s daughter; the footman was screeching that Lizzie had betrayed him; and Fergus was beseeching him for the post of gamekeeper or some other employment that would allow him to marry as soon as possible.
But at last, they all quietened down, and he heard the story from the beginning. ‘But why did Palmer claim he paid you low wages – even if they were in fact higher than the ones you actually got? He could have fleeced me for more,’ said the duke at one point.
‘It was because, I think,’ said Rainbird, ‘that he did not wish to bring the running of this house too much to your attention. He could explain away the low rent for t
he house, for this house is reported to be unlucky, and people were too superstitious to pay a good rent for it. But if you noticed that you were keeping a whole staff of servants all year round at reasonable wages, then you might have inquired further. Palmer enjoyed the power he had over us. He enjoyed our misery and seeing us starve. That was more important to him than any money. He cheated you in this respect out of a matter of habit.’
‘He was certainly taking enough from me in other ways,’ said the duke, ‘but never too much. Most of the gold I – we – found had been accumulated over the years, I think. He was clever enough not to be too greedy. You are not the only servants who were paid low wages, although none fared as badly as you. I had meant to review all the wages when the Season was over. I shall give you a sum of money towards your pub to make up for what you have suffered. Now, is there any more?’
There was. Another half-hour passed while Rainbird explained his theatrical career, and Fergus begged to marry Alice.
‘This is all too much,’ said the duke, clutching his golden curls. ‘Yes, Fergus. I shall find you something close to me, for I do not wish to lose you.’ He turned to Angus MacGregor. ‘So it appears you and Mrs Middleton are to have the running of this pub. Do you think you can be successful? Is the building in good repair?’
‘I havenae seen it, your grace,’ said Angus. ‘Mr Rainbird bought it for us. We were not planning to leave you until the end of the Season. We have not had time to go to Highgate.’
‘You may go now, if you wish,’ said the duke. ‘You may all consider yourselves free. But I would suggest we all get some sleep.’
But that word ‘free’ had made all their dreams – with the exception of Joseph’s – a reality.
‘Why not now?’ said Mrs Middleton boldly. ‘I could not sleep. We could go now. See, it is light already.’
‘Miss Sutherland,’ said the duke, looking at her tired face, ‘please go. Tell Lady Letitia I shall call on her.’
‘Take me with you,’ said Jenny suddenly to Mrs Middleton. ‘Take me to see this pub.’ Jenny was afraid to let her time with these servants end, for fear it would mean an end to her time with the Duke of Pelham.
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