The Crimson Cavaliers

by Mary Andrea Clarke

“He is really my responsibility,” said Georgiana. “I should–”

  “No, miss,” said Emily firmly. “James and I will take care of him. You’ve enough to worry you at the moment.”

  Georgiana could not argue with this and was grateful for the respite.

  Sleep beckoned.

  Her dilemma confronted her soon enough at breakfast in telling her cousin of her charitable impulse. Miss Knatchbull was very much shocked, and while she applauded dear Georgiana’s sympathetic nature in wishing to help one less fortunate, she could not help but agree with Lady Winters that ruffians who held up innocent citizens on the public highway deserved punishment.

  “Nonsense, Selina, he is only a boy. Wait until you see him for yourself.”

  “I?” said Miss Knatchbull in horrified accents, a hand at her breast. “Good heavens, I have no intention of seeing him. I am astonished you should suggest such a thing. I recommend you send for the Watch at once, or a Bow Street Runner. Edward is acquainted with one, is he not? I’m sure he could advise you.”

  “Edward advises me a deal too much already,” said Georgiana tartly.

  Georgiana had not long to wait before being presented with the next part of her problem. Her butler announced the arrival of Mr Lakesby late the same morning. Ignoring the sudden faltering of her usual determination and the surprised eyes of Miss Knatchbull, Georgiana calmly asked Horton to show in the visitor. She would have preferred to be without Selina’s company. Making the best of it, she faced Mr Lakesby with a bright smile and cheerful good morning. He paid his respects to Georgiana and her companion, declined her offer of coffee and made no attempt to open conversation until the door had closed behind Horton.

  “Won’t you sit down, Mr Lakesby?” said Georgiana.

  “No, thank you, Miss Grey. I hope not to take up too much of your time. I merely came to inquire after your patient.”

  “My maid and footman have been looking after him. The surgeon came to see him last night. He’s very weak, of course, and will need a great deal of rest. However, his life is not in any danger.”

  “Then perhaps he could be moved somewhere else,” said Miss Knatchbull with urgent anxiety. “Don’t you agree, Mr Lakesby? The matter should be notified to the proper authorities; they will see he receives medical attention.”

  “Do you think so, Selina?” said Georgiana. “I think it more likely they will put him in prison and leave him to shift for himself.”

  Lakesby did not respond to Selina’s question, addressing Georgiana. “It appears your intervention was most timely for him, Miss Grey.”

  Georgiana shook her head. “I believe he owes his life to you, Mr Lakesby. Many people would have left him on the road.”

  “My aunt thinks I should have done. I received quite a sermon on the subject.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Georgiana in remorseful tone. “I seem to have caused you a great deal of trouble.”

  “Not at all,” Lakesby responded. “My aunt does not often read me sermons and I pay her very little heed when she does.” He paused, apparently contemplating the top of one of his boots. “Have you had an opportunity to speak to the boy?”

  Selina gasped. “Speak to him?”

  “No,” said Georgiana. “I understand he has not yet returned to consciousness.” She shot a glance at him. “Do you intend to lay him in charge?”

  “My aunt thinks I should.”

  “Well, I tend to agree with her,” said Miss Knatchbull, folding her hands in her lap.

  “Do you allow yourself to be guided by your aunt’s judgement?”

  Lakesby looked intently at Georgiana. She smiled coolly, as though this was the most normal situation in the world. He contemplated the end of his stick as he addressed her.

  “Tell me, Miss Grey, do you think I should hand that boy over to a magistrate?”

  Georgiana did not even think to press Tom’s case immediately. “Does my opinion matter, sir?”

  “I have asked for it.”

  She regarded him steadily. “He is just a boy, Mr Lakesby,” she said gently. “Half starved, by the look of him.”

  “Yet strong enough to take up arms against my postilions.”

  “Exactly so,” said Miss Knatchbull.

  Georgiana was wishing her cousin at Jericho. “I imagine he was desperate,” she explained, in the teeth of the fact that highway robbery had been Tom’s ambition since she had known him.

  “Possibly,” Lakesby responded. “But highway boys grow into highwaymen if not stopped. The very thing your brother is so eager to stop.”

  The mention of Edward needled Georgiana. She lifted her chin slightly. “I had not realised my brother’s views concerned you, sir.”

  “By no means,” he said. “However, I thought they might concern you.”

  Georgiana looked away from him. She decided not to rise to the bait. “The boy is wounded, Mr Lakesby.”

  “An occupational hazard, I imagine.”

  “Nevertheless, sir, I beg you to have some compassion for him. I’m sure this incident will scare him enough to deter him from further adventures. Is it necessary to send him to the gallows as well?”

  “Are you so sure, Miss Grey? How can you be?”

  “Well, it stands to reason, sir–”

  “Does it? How can we be certain we are dealing with a reasonable being?”

  Miss Knatchbull looked alarmed. “For heaven’s sake, Georgiana–”

  Georgiana’s heart pounded in her ears. Her voice was surprisingly level.

  “I would stake my life on it, sir.”

  “You very nearly had to. You may not be so lucky another time.”

  Georgiana looked sharply at him. Was this some strange game he felt like indulging, or did he wish to teach her a lesson for the way she had taken charge of the previous night’s escapade? She drew a deep breath.

  “Mr Lakesby, do you mean to hand that boy over to the authorities?”

  Lakesby looked at her thoughtfully. “I should like to think about that.”

  7

  Georgiana stood in the drawing room paying little attention to what her cousin was saying. If Lakesby did intend to surrender Tom to the authorities, why had he not arrived with a Bow Street Runner? Perhaps he was waiting for the boy to recover from his injury? Although Mr Lakesby had certainly demonstrated compassion towards Tom’s predicament, Georgiana reflected wryly that she had given him very little choice.

  Of equal concern to Georgiana was the attention Lakesby had shown to her behaviour of the previous night. With the immediate danger to Tom past, she was now forced to confront the consequences. She was still irritated with herself for the slip she had made. There had been no need for her to touch the pistol. While the leap from Lakesby’s observation to a deduction that she was the Crimson Cavalier required some manipulation of imagination, Georgiana recognised it was possible and within Maxwell Lakesby’s capabilities.

  But Georgiana had never been one to waste her energy worrying over what could not be helped. She would certainly have to apply her mind to some means of limiting any possible damage. However, at present more urgent matters needed her attention.

  One of these imposed on her notice in a very forceful way virtually immediately as Tom’s protesting yell permeated the entire household. Georgiana could imagine the pained expressions of Horton and her housekeeper. There was no escape; she would clearly have to deal with the matter herself. She excused herself from Selina, avoiding her cousin’s scandalised expression, and reached the door just as Emily entered. The maid wore a harassed air.

  “Might I have a word, miss?” asked Emily.

  “Of course. Would you mind, Selina?”

  “Not at all,” said Selina, a little stiffly. She rose in dignified fashion to leave. “I shall be in my room if you need me.”

  “What is it, Emily? Is he refusing to let James wash him?” asked Georgiana, closing the door after her cousin.

  Emily rolled her eyes heavenward. “We’ve not even got t
o that, Miss Georgiana. He won’t eat his breakfast. Seems to think we’re trying to poison him.”

  “I suppose it’s to be expected. He’s certain to be scared, waking up injured in a strange house.” She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’d better speak to him.”

  “You’d better not, miss,” said Emily. “What if he recognises your voice?”

  “I’ll have to risk it,” said Georgiana. “We can’t have him shouting for all the world to hear.”

  “I know, miss, but...”

  “Neither you nor James are having any success with him, are you?”

  “Well, no, miss,” Emily acknowledged.

  “Then you’d best leave him to me. I know him a little better.”

  “That’s the trouble,” said a gloom-laden Emily.

  Georgiana looked across at her maid. She smiled slightly.

  “I know there’s a risk, Emily–”

  “A risk?” echoed the maid in disbelief.

  “However,” continued Georgiana undeterred, “I don’t think Tom is quite so sharp as to make the connection between Miss Georgiana Grey and the Crimson Cavalier. If he does notice anything amiss, I’m sure I can think of some tale to satisfy him. Perhaps I could invent a black sheep of a distant cousin.”

  “Your brother could put him right on that,” Emily pointed out. She nodded towards the door. “So could Miss Knatchbull.”

  “True,” said Georgiana. “But it is unlikely Edward’s and Tom’s paths will cross, and Selina has expressed her determination to have nothing to do with the boy, so we need not concern ourselves with that at present.”

  The sound of breaking crockery from upstairs ended further protest from Emily. Giving her maid one final, speaking look, Georgiana opened the door and went to Tom’s bedchamber.

  It was unusual to see James in anything other than perfect control, but there could be no doubt from his exasperated expression that his patience was worn thin. The boy was sitting up in bed, an air of belligerence about him, a challenge in his eyes. He tugged at his bandage with some impatience.

  “May I ask what the problem is?” Georgiana inquired in her haughtiest tone.

  The mutinous set of Tom’s mouth seemed to prevent him from answering. James spoke.

  “The boy seems to think we mean him harm, miss.”

  “I ain’t a boy!” objected Tom.

  Georgiana and James ignored the remark.

  “Really?” said Georgiana, looking towards James.

  “He won’t eat, miss.”

  “I see.” Georgiana cast a thoughtful look towards her young guest and noticed him wriggle uncomfortably under the scrutiny. She wondered just how afraid he was.

  “You can’t keep me in this ken,” Tom said at last. “You’re not a beak.”

  “True,” said Georgiana.

  Tom’s eyes widened. James looked towards Georgiana in some surprise.

  “I can go?” said Tom.

  “How far do you think you’d get?” asked Georgiana.

  Tom had clearly not considered this point and appeared nonplussed. Georgiana pursued her advantage.

  “You are weak from your injury. You should rest.”

  “I ain’t weak. Where’s me clothes?”

  Georgiana knew Tom would be in fear of the Runners. It also occurred to her that he would expect Harry to be looking for him. She knew this was a strong possibility. Harry was fond of the boy and likely to be concerned about his disappearance. However, Georgiana could not, in good conscience, allow Tom to leave yet.

  “The surgeon said you must rest. You needn’t worry. You are quite safe.”

  Tom looked at her suspiciously. Georgiana glanced towards James and back to the boy.

  “You’d best have something to eat,” she said lightly before leaving the room.

  As she walked down the stairs, Georgiana caught sight of Emily waiting anxiously at the bottom. She smiled in what she hoped was reassuring fashion.

  “Is all well, miss?”

  “As much as we can expect. Come into the drawing room, Emily.”

  Once inside, Georgiana closed the door and stood with her back against it. One hand rested on the door knob as she looked towards her maid’s uneasily expectant face.

  “I have to get a message to Harry. He’ll be looking for Tom.”

  “He surely won’t come here?” said Emily in horrified accents.

  “Unlikely. However, it would be best to put a stop to it early.”

  Emily said nothing.

  “I’ll go to the Lucky Bell this evening. I’ll just–” Georgiana paused. She had been about to say she would leave a note for Harry when it occurred to her that she didn’t know whether he could read.

  “If it’s just a message, perhaps I could go, miss. There’ll be no one looking for me.”

  Georgiana considered, owning herself tempted. However, it was unfair to involve Emily so directly. If spotted, her presence in the vicinity of the Lucky Bell would be more difficult to explain than her knowledge of Tom’s whereabouts. Besides, Emily didn’t know Harry by sight, and questions would draw attention. Georgiana shook her head.

  “No, thank you, Emily. I’d better take care of it myself. Don’t worry,” she said in response to the maid’s doubtful expression. “I’ll just let someone at the tavern know Tom is safe and come straight back.”

  “Well, if you’re certain, miss...”

  “Absolutely.” Georgiana was firm. She glanced at the large pendulum clock on the wall. “I thought I’d visit Joe Hill this morning.”

  “Isn’t he one of Sir Robert Foster’s tenants?”

  Georgiana nodded.

  Emily screwed up her fresh face. “Miss, do you think that’s wise, after what’s happened?”

  “Well, Sir Robert didn’t make any effort for them himself when he was alive. Where’s the difference now he’s dead?”

  Emily still looked perturbed.

  “The man needs of a bit of charity, Emily,” said Georgiana in a more gentle tone. “You know what a bad time he’s had lately with the death of his wife.”

  “She’d been ill for a long time, perhaps it was a blessing for her.”

  “Perhaps.” Georgiana sounded unconvinced. “In any case, he still has four children to feed. The least we can do is offer what help we can.”

  “It’s good of you, miss,” said Emily. “But you have to think about yourself. It’s Sir Robert’s heir’s responsibility now.”

  “Yes, but he will not necessarily make the tenants a priority. Sir Robert was a very neglectful landlord. There is no reason to suppose whoever he has chosen as heir will behave any differently.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” said Emily.

  “Of course it is,” said Georgiana. She thought for a moment. “I had better see if my cousin wishes to accompany me. I have a fancy to go on horseback, but I doubt if I can persuade Selina to do so.”

  Miss Knatchbull chose not to go with Georgiana on her charity visit, satisfied she would be accompanied by a groom. However, she was pleased her company had been sought and the two parted on excellent terms.

  The folds of Georgiana chocolate-coloured riding habit fell in naturally elegant lines and the hat perched smartly on her head gave an impudent finish to her immaculate bearing. When she had drawn on her gloves, Georgiana unlocked a small drawer in her dressing table and removed a handful of the coins liberated from Sir Robert Foster’s person a few evenings earlier. Emily made no comment, but smiled as she handed Georgiana her riding crop.

  The neat bay Georgiana chose for her expedition was more docile than Princess and could never be taken for the mount of a highway robber. Her groom rode sedately behind her, holding a carefully balanced basket in position. The pair looked every inch the perfect picture of propriety. Georgiana soon found herself within sight of the ramshackle cottages forming the edge of the late Sir Robert Foster’s estate. The buildings were testament to Sir Robert’s shortcomings as a landlord. Dismounting, Georgiana handed her reins t
o her attendant and accepted the basket in exchange. She approached one of the cottages near the middle of the row, where a dirt-smeared blonde girl of about ten years of age stood in bare feet, watching with interest. Georgiana smiled at her.

  “Hello, Betsy. Is your father at home?”

  The girl nodded, wordlessly leading Georgiana to the cottage. She paused for Georgiana to enter first, managing a shy smile. Georgiana handed the child an apple from the basket, transforming the smile into a big grin.

  “Thank you, miss.”

  “You’re very welcome, Betsy. May I go in?”

  The girl held the apple in both hands as she concentrated her energies into taking a bite.

  “Good day, Mr Hill.”

  The man looked up from his task of buttoning his son’s shirt, surprised at the sight of the visitor. He rose from his squatting position and came forward with a smile of welcome. Although he was about the same age as Edward, a careworn look made him appear older. However, he carried himself well, with brown hair brushed neatly and clothes clean and tidy, even if they had seen better days.

  “Miss Grey. ’Tis most kind of you to call.”

  “Not at all. I wanted to bring a few things for the children.” Georgiana put the basket down on the table. “I’ve already given Betsy an apple. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, miss, of course not. Thank you.” Joe Hill looked around the house self-consciously. “I’m afraid the place is not very tidy. We weren’t expecting visitors.”

  “That’s no matter.” Georgiana smiled encouragingly at the dark little boy who looked up at her in brooding fascination. “Would you like an apple?”

  The boy looked uncertainly at his father then back at Georgiana. She reached into the basket and held the fruit out to him.

  “Thank Miss Grey,” said his father.

  Thus encouraged, the boy accepted the apple and muttered his gratitude. He ran off clutching it as though afraid someone would try to take it from him.

  “They’re not used to people being kind to them, Miss Grey. You’ll have to excuse him.”

  “Please don’t worry, Mr Hill. I just came to see if there was anything you needed.”

  “Oh, no, miss, you’ve been more than kind.” With some diffidence, he began to unpack the basket Georgiana had put on the table. “It’s made such a difference since Dora died.”