The Crimson Cavaliers

by Mary Andrea Clarke

  “I’m so glad my action meets with your approval, Miss Grey,” said a cool voice behind her. “Ah, Lord Bartholomew, your servant, sir.”

  Lord Bartholomew nodded stiffly, whether as a deliberate gesture or the result of his starched collar points, Georgiana could not be sure. At any rate, he did not seem pleased to see Lakesby.

  “I did not know you were acquainted with my sister-in-law, Mr Lakesby,” said Georgiana to cover the tension.

  “No, I wasn’t until this evening, although I knew her by sight. She is quite charming.”

  “I am surprised to see you here this evening if you were not acquainted with my cousin.” said Lord Bartholomew.

  “Yes, I am a little surprised myself,” responded Lakesby coolly. “However, as Miss Grey has been astute enough to realise, my aunt required my escort and can be very persuasive.”

  The charm in Lakesby’s voice was equalled only by the smile he bestowed on his listeners. Lord Bartholomew remained unimpressed, his brow clouded. Georgiana, for her part, returned Lakesby’s smile, if a little absently, as her eyes began to wander around the room again. As her gaze reached her brother, she blinked, trying to focus. She seemed unable to move any other part of her body.

  Amanda and Edward had finished greeting their guests, but he remained close to her side as she stood in conversation with an acquaintance of her mother’s. Like his sister, Edward was also looking around the room. As Georgiana’s glance fell on him, she noticed his eyes come to rest on one guest. More of a shock to Georgiana was the spark which came into her brother’s eyes. She looked towards the object of his attention. There could be no doubt Lady Wickerston returned Edward’s look, barely perceptible as it was. Georgiana’s head reeled; she felt the colour drain from her face. She was dimly conscious of Lord Bartholomew’s voice echoing somewhere in the background, but had no idea what he said. She became aware of a slight touch on her arm and Lakesby’s voice penetrated her mind.

  “Miss Grey, I am sure you must be in need of some further refreshment,” he said, taking her half-empty glass from her. “This looks rather tired. Allow me to fetch you some wine.”

  “Yes. Yes, thank you.” Georgiana allowed herself to be led to the refreshment table followed by the dismayed expression of Lord Bartholomew.

  “This will help,” said Lakesby as he handed her a glass of wine.

  “Thank you,” said Georgiana.

  Lakesby smiled. “I know it’s a surprise, but in fairness one could hardly expect your brother to discuss his inamorata with his sister.”

  Georgiana stared at him, thunderstruck. “You know?”

  Lakesby nodded. “I’ve had my suspicions, though your brother has been fairly discreet as these things go.”

  “He always seemed so devoted to Amanda.”

  “I’m sure he is,” responded Lakesby.

  “How can he be when...?” Georgiana looked at Lakesby. “Does Lord Wickerston know?”

  Lakesby shook his head. “I don’t think Wickerston sees much beyond the bottom of his current bottle.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Georgiana. “How can you...?”

  Lakesby smiled. “I’m afraid I was not entirely truthful with you, Miss Grey. Your brother and I are better acquainted than I led you to believe.”

  “What?” Georgiana stared, further astonishment visible in her expression.

  “This is not the time or place,” said Lakesby. “Your cousin is watching us, concerned for your virtue, no doubt.”

  Possibility of further conversation was ended with the approach of Selina Knatchbull, smiling pleasantly. Dumbfounded yet fascinated with what she had learned, Georgiana remained silent while Lakesby greeted Miss Knatchbull and listened with all appearance of interest to details of the headache which had laid her low the previous day and the benefits of lavender water and hartshorn in such circumstances.

  “I must say, Mr Lakesby,” said Miss Knatchbull in earnest accents, “I was very shocked to hear about your carriage being held up the other evening. There seems no end to these highwaymen terrorising the roads.”

  “Well, it was not a successful attempt,” said Lakesby lightly. “It was a pity the boy was injured, but no doubt your cousin is ensuring he is well nursed.”

  Selina shuddered. “I do wish Georgiana had not brought him back to the house. I cannot begin to tell you how my nerves have suffered.”

  “That is unfortunate,” said Lakesby sympathetically.

  “I shall be glad when you hand him over to the authorities, Mr Lakesby,” Miss Knatchbull said.

  “I see no need for that,” Lakesby said. “The boy would be hanged and there was no real harm done.”

  “But – but – surely he needs to be taught a lesson?” said Miss Knatchbull, a tremor in her voice.

  “Your cousin assures me he has learned his lesson. Is that not so, Miss Grey?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Besides,” continued Lakesby, “no lesson will benefit him once he is dead.”

  Miss Knatchbull was stricken to silence, an unusual circumstance which filled Georgiana with as much amusement as gratitude. Lakesby began a flow of trivial conversation. Georgiana played her part, her cousin’s presence precluding any possibility of asking what she really wanted to know: the truth about his acquaintance with Edward and his attendance at Sir Robert Foster’s funeral. Hopes of persuading Selina to interest herself with another guest were abandoned when Edward joined the group, clearly not happy at the sight of his sister in Lakesby’s company. Between the memory of their last encounter and her new discovery, Georgiana felt a spirit of mischief take hold of her. Involuntarily, she glanced towards Lakesby. To her annoyance, he seemed to be deriving huge enjoyment from the situation.

  “Well, Georgiana,” said Edward. “I’m glad you decided to come. Amanda and I are always pleased to see you.”

  “Thank you, Edward.”

  Edward turned towards Lakesby. His expression, while not openly disapproving, said plainly he took this guest’s presence on sufferance. Lakesby’s pleasant smile and manner seemed to wear away at Edward’s thinly stretched levels of toleration.

  “It was most kind of your wife to invite my aunt and cousin this evening, Grey,” said Lakesby in friendly fashion.

  “Not at all.”

  “Very agreeable company,” Lakesby pursued.

  “I’m sure my wife will be glad it meets with your approval.” Edward’s voice was clipped, unwelcoming. The vein in his temple began to throb with ominous regularity.

  “Most certainly. Please give her my compliments.” Lakesby bowed to the ladies and strolled away. Brother and sister faced one another, their cousin glancing nervously from one to the other, apparently uncertain whether or not she too should move away.

  Edward spoke first.

  “I am glad you decided to come, Georgiana.”

  “Yes, Edward, so you said.” Georgiana felt the temptation to taunt her brother. It was not Georgiana’s business that he had a mistress, but for the lady to be invited to a party at the home he shared with his wife seemed in extremely poor taste. The knowledge that Edward’s life didn’t stand up to scrutiny made Georgiana want to laugh out loud, particularly when she thought of the constant moralising to which he subjected her.

  “I must say, this is all very pleasant,” commented Selina. “Amanda is really very clever at arranging such things.”

  Edward turned towards his cousin with a smile. “Yes, indeed. She will be pleased you said so, Selina.”

  As they were talking, Georgiana’s eye strayed towards Lord Bartholomew Parker, deep in conversation with another guest. She noticed him casting one or two surreptitious glances in her direction. The unhappy thought came to her that if she was to learn anything about his attendance at Sir Robert’s funeral, she would have to engage him in conversation.

  “By the way, Edward,” said Georgiana, still looking in Lord Bartholomew’s direction, “I didn’t know Lord Bartholomew was acquainted with Sir Robert Fo
ster.”

  “What?”

  “I heard Lord Bartholomew and you both attended Sir Robert’s funeral.”

  Selina put her handkerchief to her mouth, seeming ready to faint. Edward looked slightly shocked, as though he considered the subject unsuitable for feminine sensibilities.

  “I believe Sir Robert was some distant relation of Bartholomew’s. As for myself, having taken over his seat on the magistrates’ bench, I felt it my duty to attend.”

  “Yes, of course,” Georgiana brushed aside Edward’s reasons. “Amanda never mentioned the connection.”

  “Sir Robert was not related to Amanda. He was on the other side of Bartholomew’s family.” Edward looked at his sister, his light green eyes drawing together in suspicion. “Why should that concern you?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t,” Georgiana said hastily. “I was just curious.”

  Edward continued to regard her mistrustfully. “I thought you were not interested in Bartholomew. Goodness knows, I’ve tried often enough to persuade you otherwise.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Edward, don’t start that again,” said Georgiana in exasperation. “I told you, I was just curious as to how he came to be at Sir Robert’s funeral. Don’t make such a fuss about it.”

  Edward’s brow grew dark and intent as he regarded Georgiana.

  “With whom have you been discussing Sir Robert Foster’s funeral?”

  “What?” Georgiana was taken aback by his tone.

  “Lakesby, I suppose,” he said petulantly. “Really, Georgiana, it is most unseemly. I have to say, your choice of friends leaves a great deal to be desired.”

  “My choice of friends! Well, I like that, Edward. What concern is it of yours?”

  “Furthermore, Selina and Bartholomew tell me you have a wounded highwayman under your roof. What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?”

  “Selina and Lord Bartholomew would do better to keep to their own concerns,” Georgiana said, with an angry look towards her cousin.

  “Georgiana, please,” interposed Selina.

  Georgiana was halted by the timely arrival of Amanda at Edward’s side. Despite her cousin’s presence, Georgiana knew her anger had nearly betrayed her into impropriety. But she had no wish to hurt her sister-in-law, and held her tongue.

  “Georgiana, Edward, please,” begged Amanda. “No more quarrelling.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Selina. “I’m so sorry, Amanda. I did try.”

  Edward pursed his lips, continuing to glower. Georgiana took a deep breath and managed to smile at her sister-in-law. What would Amanda say if she knew the whole truth?

  “If you’ll excuse me, I must pay my respects to Lady Winters and her daughter,” said Georgiana. She sailed off, her cousin close at her heels, much to her annoyance. Georgiana just caught the hushed voices behind her as Amanda gently admonished Edward.

  “Why can you and Edward never seem to meet without quarrelling?” pleaded Selina.

  “It takes two to quarrel, Selina.”

  “I don’t know what has come over you lately, Georgiana. I daresay Edward is right and it is Mr Lakesby’s influence.”

  Georgiana stopped in her tracks. “Edward said that?” she demanded.

  Miss Knatchbull quailed before the expression in her cousin’s eyes.

  “Well, no, not exactly. It’s just that... Well, you have changed. What was all that talk about Sir Robert Foster’s funeral? As for bringing that ruffian home, I daresay it was Mr Lakesby who persuaded you, since he is going to let the rascal go free.”

  “Not at all,” said Georgiana coolly. “In fact, it was I who asked him not to hand over the boy.”

  11

  Lady Winters greeted Georgiana civilly, although the icy edge in her voice indicated she had not forgotten their last encounter. Louisa gave a bright, beaming smile. She seemed particularly cheerful this evening, almost as if she was brimming over with the desire to exchange confidences. Georgiana wondered whether the girl had something of interest to impart, or whether this was an impression created by her own over-hopeful imagination.

  “I must say, Miss Grey, it was very civil of your sister-in-law to invite us this evening,” remarked her ladyship.

  “Amanda was pleased to include you, Lady Winters,” responded Georgiana.

  Her ladyship turned her attention to Selina, one or two paces behind Georgiana, her pallor giving a suggestion of the shock her cousin had just inflicted upon her.

  “Miss Knatchbull, are you quite well?”

  “Oh, yes, your ladyship, thank you. It is most kind of you to ask. I was laid low with the headache yesterday, but am feeling much better now.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps you had better go home early,” remarked Lady Winters. “You don’t look at all the thing.”

  “Well, if your ladyship thinks so, but indeed I am perfectly well.”

  Having dispensed her advice, Lady Winters apparently lost interest in the well-being of Miss Knatchbull and spoke again to Georgiana.

  “I hope you mean to ensure that young ruffian gets what he deserves, Miss Grey. Charity is all very well in its place, but you can’t go taking pity on every villain who meets with some misfortune. They have only themselves to blame, and it is nothing but a waste when they will be hanged in any case.”

  “I see,” said Georgiana.

  “It’s perfectly acceptable to feel sorry for the unfortunate,” said her ladyship. “I do myself.”

  Georgiana wondered how she prevented herself reacting to her ladyship’s self-congratulatory manner. “Do you?” she said, icily polite.

  “However,” continued Lady Winters, “young men gadding about on the public highways terrorising innocent travellers deserve no sympathy, whatever may befall them.”

  Georgiana bit back the impulse to retort. As Mr Lakesby approached with refreshments, Georgiana could imagine his desire to taunt her by seeking his aunt’s opinion of young ladies on the public highways. Georgiana kept her eyes resolutely from him.

  “I am sure you are right, Lady Winters,” she responded quietly.

  “I am very glad to hear you say so, Georgiana,” said Selina.

  “A glass of lemonade, Miss Knatchbull?” interposed Lakesby.

  Georgiana looked at him. Despite his help in distracting Selina’s attention, she could cheerfully have throttled him.

  “I heard you attended Sir Robert’s funeral today,” she said.

  “Did you, Max?” asked Louisa in some wonderment.

  “Yes, Louisa.”

  “How odd,” said Louisa. “I always thought you did not like him.”

  “No more did I,” said Lakesby. “However, it seemed the thing to do.”

  “Very proper, Max,” commented Lady Winters. “One should always pay one’s respects to the departed.”

  “I thought so, Aunt Beatrice. In fact, Miss Grey’s brother was also there, as was her butler.”

  “I am pleased to hear it, especially when one considers the way Sir Robert died,” said her ladyship with a shudder. “It is truly appalling.”

  Fearing another sermon on the outrageous behaviour of highwaymen, Georgiana decided she could no longer delay facing Lord Bartholomew. She sensed Lakesby knew her thoughts as he followed her quick glance towards where his lordship stood. She detected the ghost of a smile in Lakesby’s expression. Georgiana was not sure whether she was more irritated by the thought of having to talk to Lord Bartholomew or the fact that Lakesby apparently considered it a source of amusement. She decided to take herself off before she said something indiscreet, suggesting her cousin stay and talk to Lady Winters.

  Lord Bartholomew seemed pleased by Georgiana’s approach, although she wondered whether she imagined a vaguely suspicious shadow crossing his face. She shrugged it off and gave him a smile of warm concern. “Lord Bartholomew, I felt I must express my condolences. I had no idea until today you were related to Sir Robert Foster. I am most truly sorry for your loss.”

  His lordship appeared taken aback by her s
ympathy and, for once, did not have a response ready to gush forth.

  “What? Oh. Yes. Thank you,” he said as he seemed to collect his thoughts. “Thank you very much. It is most kind of you, though he was only a very distant relative, you understand. We were not close.”

  “Even so, it must have been very distressing for you,” said Georgiana sympathetically, “for such a thing to happen in your own family.”

  “Oh, yes, the scandal will be quite dreadful.”

  “Ye-es,” she responded. She regarded him speculatively, considering how best to continue. “How is Sir Brandon faring after his father’s death?”

  “Oh, well enough, I believe,” said Lord Bartholomew airily. “Brandon and I don’t deal much. He’s always spent a lot of time at his father’s country house.”

  “Indeed?” said Georgiana. “Still, I imagine things must have been difficult in view of the situation between him and his father.”

  Lord Bartholomew looked at her in puzzlement.

  “I understand there was a rift between them,” pursued Georgiana gently.

  “That had nothing to do with me,” said Lord Bartholomew, his agitation accentuating his sing-song voice. One or two people glanced towards him.

  “No, of course not, Lord Bartholomew,” said Georgiana. She changed her tactics. “How was Sir Robert’s funeral? I know it must be a difficult time for the family.”

  “Oh, yes, yes,” said Lord Bartholomew. He paused. “I had not expected to see your butler there, particularly since Edward attended. It was most kind of you to send him.” Lord Bartholomew’s hand stretched out to touch Georgiana’s arm as he spoke. Instinctively, she recoiled.

  “It was the least I could do. I felt I must pay my respects.” Georgiana sighed. “Poor Sir Robert. Such a dreadful thing to happen.”

  “Yes,” said Lord Bartholomew. “I’m sure we’ll all feel much safer once they catch that highwayman.”

  “Assuming a highwayman is responsible,” interpolated the voice of Lakesby at Georgiana’s elbow. “Please excuse the interruption.”