The Conundrum of a Clerk

by Sande, Linda Rae

  George frowned, rather surprised at how much time had passed since the christening. Two years! “Elizabeth is in her bedchamber. She wishes to see you, so you have to stay until she’s finished dressing,” he warned, one eyebrow arching up. At Teddy’s sudden look of alarm, George added, “You needn’t look so worried. She’ll be quick.” He paused. “Is something amiss? Elkins said you looked—”

  “Mum died yesterday,” Teddy interrupted.

  George blinked as he struggled to remember if he had ever met the woman. “Jesus, Teddy. I’m so sorry,” he said in a whisper. “Where... where was she?”

  “At the school,” Teddy replied with a nod. “Well, in her apartment at Warwick’s,” he clarified, referring to Warwick’s Grammar and Finishing School. Agnes Streater had been the headmistress of the boarding school for over thirty years. “She seems to have died in her sleep. She was... old,” he added with a shrug. “One of the instructors found her and had a note sent to me right away. I was going to take her to church this morning,” he added as his eyes suddenly brightened with unshed tears.

  George took a breath. “I’d forgotten she was still working there,” he said. Teddy rarely spoke of his mother, but then he was past thirty and long out of the family house. “Does your brother know?”

  Teddy nodded. “He does, although...” He paused, not about to share how his older brother had reacted to learning of their mother’s fate. “The two of them never got along. Michael was embarrassed by her position, I think,” he added, sotto voce. But then, Baron Michael Streater didn’t wish to have anything to do with Teddy, either, as if he thought his younger brother was waiting with bated breath for him to die so that he could inherit his title.

  George winced, remembering how contrary the older brother could be. Although the man had finally married, it was possible that Teddy might one day be a baron and join George in Parliament. “Do you need... help? Do you need anything?”

  Teddy shook his head. “I’ve just come from the solicitor’s office.”

  Furrowing a brow, George was about to say he was surprised a solicitor would be working on a Sunday when he realized the man was probably Jewish. “So, you’ve already seen to her...”

  “She was rich, George. Very rich.”

  George blinked again, his brows furrowing. “I thought she was the headmistress at Warwick’s.” We are speaking of Mrs. Streater? he almost asked, well aware that many young ladies, mostly daughters of London’s wealthy cits, had at one time come under her strict thumb.

  “She was,” Teddy acknowledged with a nod. “And that’s all I ever thought she was,” he added as his breathing seemed to quicken.

  “So, your father left her some blunt—”

  “My father left us in debt,” Teddy countered.

  “So... she inherited something from an aunt or a—”

  “She owned Warwick’s,” Teddy stated with a nod. “And she’s left it all to me.”

  At this bit of news, George frowned before he was aware that Elizabeth had come into the room. He got to his feet as she nodded to Teddy’s deep bow, amazed at how quickly she had managed to dress and pin up her hair—even if she did have a lady’s maid to help. He wondered how much she had overheard.

  “Oh, Mr. Streater, it’s so good to see you again,” Elizabeth gushed as she hurried forward. Instead of offering her hand, she stepped up and kissed him on the cheek.

  The man’s face reddened before he noticed George’s smirk. “You as well, my lady,” he managed to say. His gaze immediately went to the toddler. “He’s already quite the strapping young lad,” he added, wondering if Elizabeth could even carry the toddler.

  “Two stone at two years,” she replied proudly. “And he adores his little sister. She’s sleeping at the moment or I would introduce you. I do hope they’re treating you well at the bank?”

  “Very,” Teddy replied with a nod.

  “He’s just accepted a promotion as Head of Clerks,” George added. “But he’s actually here on another matter.”

  Elizabeth managed a happy, “Congratulations,” before Elkins appeared at the door with the tea tray and her chocolate. A pot of coffee took the place of the usual teapot.

  Teddy gave a nod as he retook his seat. “Thank you, my lady. I owe it all to you and your charity, of course,” he said.

  “I’ll see to the serving,” Elizabeth whispered as the butler set the tray on the low table in front of the settee. “Also, could you remind Mrs. Foster that both the babes are with me? I don’t want her in any more of a panic than she probably already is,” she added quietly.

  “I will see to it, my lady,” Elkins replied as he gave a bow.

  After Elkins took his leave and shut the door, the lady of Bostwick House set about pouring coffee and adding milk and sugar. She gave a cup to Teddy.

  “Now, what’s this about the owner of Warwick’s? I once attended that school, as did my friends, although they didn’t board there,” she explained as she gave a cup to George. “I had a governess, but I’m afraid I proved too challenging for her, so Father sent me there.”

  An involuntary shudder passed through her. Elizabeth couldn’t claim her two years at the finishing school were her favorites. She attended because her parents had gone off to Italy to visit her mother’s family, and because she had vexed her last governess to the point of distraction. Although she could already speak French and knew all the dances, she had learned how to draw and paint, appreciate the theatre for more than just a place to see and be seen, improve her sewing skills, and walk with a book on her head—even up and down stairs. Given the status of several of the girls at the school, security was of utmost concern, so burly men were posted outside of schoolrooms and provided protection when the students were out-of-doors.

  Warwick’s was also where she had met and befriended Beth Cunningham, who was now the Duchess of Somerset. Her best friends had also attended with her those two years. Charlotte Bingham, now the Duchess of Chichester, was living with her duke at Wisborough Oaks in Sussex, and Hannah Slater, now the Countess of Gisborn, was at Gisborn Hall near the village of Brampton, Oxfordshire. “Has something happened?” she asked.

  Teddy dipped his head. “My mother, my lady. She died yesterday, you see, and I was just telling his lordship here that I’m in a bit of a quandary.” He ignored George’s look of dismay at being referred to as “his lordship” by his best friend. He set the cup and saucer on the table and lifted the cup with his only hand.

  “Oh, please, do accept my condolences, Mr. Streater,” Elizabeth said, her voice filled with concern. Then she frowned. “Mrs. Streater was your... she was your mother?” she asked, disbelief coloring her voice.

  “Indeed.”

  Elizabeth did a mental calculation of how many times she had secretly cursed the headmistress of Warwick’s Grammar and Finishing School, the ancient woman rather strict with her charges. It was difficult to imagine Mrs. Streater having at one time been married, let alone a mother to Theodore Streater and his older brother, Michael, a baron. “So, I rather imagine the owner of the school is searching for a new headmistress,” she said as she gave a cup of coffee to her husband.

  George cleared his throat. “I believe what Teddy is trying to say is that he is the new owner of Warwick’s,” he explained in a quiet voice.

  Elizabeth’s brows furrowed. “But..., but I thought Mrs. Worthington owned the school.” Mrs. Streater always seemed so deferential in the presence of the woman who could claim that her son, Samuel, was one of the richest men in all of England. He had been responsible for the early steamships, his venture netting him vast wealth. His fortune was now in the hands of his widow, Adele, Countess of Torrington.

  Teddy nodded. “As did I,” he agreed. “For my whole life. I’ve always thought the most valuable item in her possession was my grandmother’s garnet and diamond ring, but I’ve just come from the solicitor, and he claims my mother was indeed the owner of the school. As well as a...” He hissed at this point, a rath
er pained expression appearing on his face. “A fortune of some ten-thousand pounds.”

  George blinked.

  Elizabeth blinked.

  David blinked, waking up from his nap to display a huge grin directed at his mother.

  “Ten-thousand pounds?” George repeated. “Bollocks, Teddy, you’re... you’re rich!” he said before turning to Elizabeth and giving his head a quick shake. “Forgive the curse, my lady.”

  “Oh, of course, darling. If you hadn’t said it, I would have,” she claimed with an expression that matched his. She suddenly frowned. “You do know what this means?” she asked as she directed her attention to the bank clerk.

  Teddy’s eyes widened. “My three-hundred-and-eighty pounds a year at the bank is a pittance?”

  Elizabeth grimaced, not entirely pleased he was earning less than three-hundred pounds a year. Given his years of experience and knowing the salaries of dozens of positions in London—she knew of such things because of her charity—she thought him worth more. Still, his salary would support a small family in modest accommodations. “You can afford to take a wife,” she said, just as David giggled.

  George and Teddy stared at one another. “She has a point, Teddy,” George said. “It’s been several years since Gertrude died. It is past time you took another wife.”

  But Teddy shook his head, ignoring the pang he felt at hearing his late wife’s name. “What woman on God’s green earth is going to want to marry a man with only one arm?” he countered in disgust. When he saw how Elizabeth and George both gave non-committal shrugs, he rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to marry a woman who is merely after my fortune,” he claimed.

  “No one has to know you have a fortune,” Elizabeth countered. “Who besides your solicitor knows?”

  Teddy furrowed a brow. “Just you two. And him,” he added as he glanced over at David. “My brother didn’t show up for the reading of the will, and I haven’t yet been to see him.”

  David was sitting up on the settee next to his mother, his face displaying the carefree happiness of extreme youth. He giggled, as if he knew Teddy had singled him out for acknowledgment.

  “You could hire a matchmaker,” George suggested.

  “Oh, that would never do,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head. “Teddy requires a perfect match. A woman who will appreciate what he’s been through. A woman who values him,” she said, as if the man in question wasn’t sitting just five feet away.

  “Well, I rather doubt there’s a matchmaker who specializes in finding wives for wounded soldiers,” her husband said with a sigh.

  Somehow, he knew even before the words were out of his mouth that Elizabeth would be struck with the very idea that suddenly came to him when he completed his comment. He stared at Elizabeth with the same intensity she stared at him, and they both said, “Finding Wives for the Wounded!” at exactly the same moment. Then they both grinned before turning their expectant gazes onto Teddy.

  Teddy blinked, obviously rather startled. George was truly of the same mind as his viscountess! “What are you saying?” Teddy asked. “That you’re going to bribe potential wives into marrying wounded men?”

  Elizabeth allowed a look of offense. “Of course not, Mr. Streater. There are women out there—widows and... and those a bit on-the-shelf, or spinsters, even, who still harbor hope for a match. Hope for a husband and children,” she explained softly. “We just have to find them, and interview them, and—”

  “Elizabeth,” George said in a hoarse whisper. “What are you suggesting?”

  His wife sighed, well aware her son had turned his attention on her, as if he, too, wanted to know. “We’re not as busy down at ‘Finding Work for the Wounded’ as we were in the beginning,” she said. Indeed, for the first year after she had a shingle hung and opened the door to the establishment in Oxford Street, there had been a steady stream of returning soldiers bearing wounds that made it hard for them to secure employment. Now that the war had been over for a couple of years, fewer old fogeys sought their services. “Perhaps we could... repurpose one of the staff to matchmaking,” she said. “Or we could hire a matchmaker. Someone who has experience.”

  George regarded Teddy a moment, rather surprised to see a glimmer of hope appear in the man’s eyes. “Perhaps,” George agreed. “But, in the meantime, I believe Teddy has a more pressing matter.”

  Elizabeth turned to stare at their visitor. “What might that be?”

  Teddy angled his head to one side. “I need a new headmistress for Warwick’s,” he said with a heavy sigh.

  Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth said, “Well, that should be easy enough, Mr. Streater. Find out who among the current staff is interested in the position, and offer it to her.”

  Teddy exchanged a startled glance with George before he turned his attention back to Elizabeth. “That’s brilliant, my lady,” he said in awe. Then he sobered. He hadn’t yet been to the school to discover who he was employing. “But will her interest alone qualify her to be headmistress?”

  Considering the question a moment, Elizabeth realized the man had a point. “Perhaps not.”

  “You could post the position in the newspaper,” George suggested. “Or...” He turned his attention to Elizabeth. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any females apply for positions at ‘Finding Work for the Wounded’?” he asked.

  His wife’s eyes widened. “But we have!” she countered. “A couple of nurses from the field hospitals, and...” She paused, as if in thought. “And a woman who claimed she couldn’t tell us exactly why she was in Belgium, but that she was shot in service to king and country. Has a bit of a limp as I recall.”

  George and Teddy exchanged suspicious glances. “A spy, perhaps?” George asked, directing his question to their visitor.

  “Or a courier,” Teddy countered with a shrug. He had served as an officer in the army on three different occasions and was well aware of how women had served the war effort. “Or maybe she was there to follow the drum.”

  “I’ll have Mr. Overby search the records,” Elizabeth said as she lifted David onto her lap. “In the meantime, you already have a number of instructors to meet.”

  Teddy swallowed, realizing she had a point. “I suppose I should introduce myself to them, seeing as how I find I am their employer now.”

  George angled his head. “Aren’t there servants as well? Cooks and housemaids?” he asked.

  “I seem to remember a gardener,” Elizabeth added. “And someone who saw to repairs.”

  Teddy seemed to wilt at each reminder of what he had inherited. “I can see to the accounting, at least,” he muttered. “As for the rest... I fear I shall be at a loss.”

  Elizabeth waved the hand that wasn’t holding onto David. “Just host a tea at the school and invite all the employees.” When she noticed how uncomfortable Teddy seemed at the suggestion, she added, “I can help, if you’d like. Send out the invitations. Have the tea here, and I’ll act as your hostess.”

  “Oh, would you?” Teddy replied, his countenance brightening.

  “I will,” Elizabeth promised. “But you must be the one to host. It will give you an opportunity to meet everyone. Assure them they still have positions. That is... if you intend to keep the school open?”

  The query seemed to surprise the man. “Oh, I do,” Teddy replied. Given how much he had inherited, owning the school had to have been lucrative for his mother. Where else would her fortune have come from if not from tuition fees?

  Although he could sell Warwick’s—and perhaps he still might if it turned out it was a venture beyond his ken—he thought it best to continue his mother’s legacy. “With your help, I shall host a tea, and I shall meet each and every one of my employees. How does Saturday afternoon sound?”

  “Saturday would be best,” Elizabeth agreed. “Three o’clock in the afternoon. If you can send over a list, I’ll see to the invitations, and have a footman deliver them.”

  When David giggled again, his attention on Teddy a
nd his manner suggesting the new owner of Warwick’s would fail, his mother regarded the boy with a frown. “Now, there will be none of that, young man,” she said by way of warning. “Or you may find yourself betrothed to Lady Pettigrew’s grandniece.”

  George had to suppress the urge to laugh when David’s eyes suddenly widened in fear. “Do let us know how it goes, won’t you?” he asked of his best friend. “And congratulations again on the promotion.”

  Teddy merely nodded before he said, “Thank you. I think.” He stood up and gave a bow, kissing the back of Elizabeth’s hand. “I’ll go to the school now and find that list,” he promised. He turned to George. “Tomorrow at Angelo’s?” he asked.

  George blinked. “If you’re sure,” he replied, realizing Teddy referred to their weekly sparring session. Given what had happened, he didn’t expect Teddy to be available for their match.

  “I am. I’ll be in need of exercise,” Teddy replied before he bowed and took his leave of Bostwick House.

  Chapter 3

  A Spy Returns to London

  Meanwhile, in the back of St. George’s Church

  Sure most of the parishioners attending that morning’s service in St. George’s had already taken their seats, Daisy Albright dared a quick glance around the nave before finding a seat in the back of the sanctuary—at the exact moment everyone stood up for the first hymn. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she ignored the curious gaze of an older woman to her left. At just a bit over five-foot tall, she didn’t stand out from those around her. The wig and hat she wore, along with cosmetics used to make her appear older than her eight-and-twenty years, ensured no one would recognize her.

  Well, except for her father, perhaps. If he was in town, then she was quite sure he was seated somewhere close to the front. Probably in the first pew, given his status as a duke. But it had been a long time since they had seen one another. An occasional note sent to him assured him she was well and that she would pay a call when she was next in London.