The Crimson Cavaliers

by Mary Andrea Clarke

  “Oh, miss, you’re awake. Thank heavens! We’ve all been so worried about you.”

  “All?” The shock of her injury having begun to wear off, Georgiana’s practical caution reasserted itself. Just how public was her present situation?

  “James and me,” said Emily, straightening the bedclothes. “Oh, and the surgeon, of course.”

  “There was a surgeon here?” said Georgiana, struck by how unnecessary her question was as soon as the words had left her lips. Of course there had been a surgeon. She vaguely remembered being probed in professional fashion by someone she did not know. “Where did you find this surgeon?”

  “James knew of him,” said Emily. “He didn’t ask any awkward questions. Neither did James.” She paused, her eyes scanning Georgiana anxiously. “You were very bad, miss. You’d lost a lot of blood. The ball was still in you. We had to get someone to attend to you.”

  Georgiana rubbed her forehead with the palm of her good hand. “How long have I been unconscious?”

  “Two days.”

  “What?”

  Emily nodded. “Delirious, too. I didn’t dare let anyone near you in case you said something you shouldn’t. Miss Knatchbull wasn’t too happy about it.” She paused. “We’ve given it out you’ve had an attack of influenza.”

  Georgiana tried to sit up. Emily leaned across to assist, propping the pillows against her back.

  The story about her having influenza would keep away any curious well-wishers. It sounded as though it had even had the desired effect on her cousin. She looked up to find her maid regarding her intently.

  “What happened, miss? Do you know who did this?” Emily asked.

  Georgiana shook her head, an impulse she regretted almost immediately. She put her hand up against it.

  “I don’t know,” said Georgiana. “I thought I had been followed from the Lucky Bell. I did wonder if it was Edward’s informants, but the shot came so fast, I’m not sure.”

  “You didn’t see whoever it was?”

  “No” She hesitated a moment, not certain how Emily would react to what she had to say next. “There was someone on the road, a highwayman, I thought. He said he was looking for me.”

  “What?”

  “It was odd. He was on the road and when a carriage approached, he fired a shot that seemed intended to frighten them away. Then he came to help me, bandaged the wound.”

  “I wondered,” said Emily. “I didn’t think you could have done it yourself. You don’t know who he was?”

  Georgiana thought she did know but preferred not to air her suspicions. “I didn’t recognise him.”

  “But you came back alone.”

  “I didn’t dare wait. He was far too solicitous. I rode away as soon as I got an opportunity.”

  Emily looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, without him you’d have lost a lot more blood.”

  “Yes.”

  “By the way, Mr Lakesby’s called round two or three times,” said Emily. “Seemed quite concerned when he heard you were ill.”

  “That was good of him,” said Georgiana.

  “Yes, I thought so.”

  “I suppose James knows everything?” said Georgiana.

  Emily wrinkled her nose. “He’s not asked anything and I’ve not told him.”

  “Oh?”

  “You need not worry about James, miss. He’ll hold his tongue. Now, do you want something to eat?”

  Georgiana found she was quite hungry, and accepted gladly.

  “But no invalid food, please, Emily,” she begged. “Something a bit more substantial than a bowl of gruel.”

  Emily smiled and said she would see what she could do. Georgiana leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She was surprisingly tired considering she had been unconscious for two days. She still felt weak, but better than she had on the night of the shooting. A certain amount of discomfort was inevitable for a few days at least.

  Georgiana chafed at time lost in her search for Sir Robert Foster’s killer and her inability to do anything confined to her bed. She found herself wondering what Lakesby had learned, if she was correct in her supposition that he was her rescuer. Screwing up her eyes, she tried to recall the moments just before the shooting. She was still puzzled over the sudden appearance of an ally on the road. He had said he was looking for her. It was clear some sort of trap had been set, but how anyone else could have learned of it was something of a mystery. She was sure Edward and his fellow magistrates would not confide their intentions. The man on the road had not told her anything when she had asked him. He’d said it could wait until she had recovered; had he been afraid it would be too much of a shock to her? She found herself slightly resentful at this notion.

  Georgiana considered the possibilities. The notion of Edward out on the road shooting at highwaymen late at night was too ridiculous to be borne. Yet he had seemed confident of capturing the Crimson Cavalier imminently and informers, taking the easy option of disclosure for payment, would hardly have the courage to lie in wait and ambush a notorious highway robber. She wondered how she could have been recognised without her red scarf, and whether all robbers on that road were being pursued. Edward had told Lady Winters he intended to do something about the highwaymen. Yet word of such a trap would soon spread, making the area one to avoid. Recalling the two strangers in the tavern, Georgiana frowned. While most of the Lucky Bell’s clientele were discreet, she knew a few would talk for the right price. In any case, she thought she had been careful in ensuring she was not followed. She had certainly heard nothing behind her. She recalled the moment of hesitancy as she had slowed down her horse. That would give an attacker the opportunity needed, or allow anyone following to signal to a waiting compatriot.

  A feeling of unease niggled Georgiana as she pushed herself more upright in the bed. Something about the arrangement did not make sense. If the trap had been set by Edward and the Bow Street Runners, why had she not been taken or killed? There had been enough time for both her and her ally to be captured. Her injury had held them for a few minutes and slowed progress. Surely any decent Runner would have been able to discover her? Besides, a trap argued the presence of a few. The capture of the Crimson Cavalier would be a feather in any cap. Why would they have given up the hunt so easily?

  One possibility stood out to Georgiana more than any other. The trap was not set by anyone on the side of law and order. The intention had not been to capture but to kill her.

  Georgiana closed her eyes and shook her head. She was growing fanciful. Emily said she had been delirious. Trying to pull her thoughts together, Georgiana realised that without the red scarf on her hat, anyone finding her body on the road would be unlikely to associate her with the Crimson Cavalier. She would be Miss Georgiana Grey, dressed in highwayman’s clothes, certainly, but that could be taken as a prank. Questions would be asked. Would the murderer expose her, and so expose him- or herself?

  “Here we are,” said Emily, entering the room with a tray which held an appetising spread. Georgiana found her hunger had lessened. However, with no wish to admit this to Emily, she made an effort to smile as the maid carried the tray over to her bed.

  “Mr Lakesby called,” said Emily.

  “Oh?” said Georgiana feeling her face pale as she took up her napkin.

  “Yes,” said Emily, looking at her mistress with a slightly puzzled expression. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, of course not,” said Georgiana picking up a chicken wing. “I am just a little more tired than I thought.”

  “Oh. Well, Mr Lakesby wondered how you were. He was pleased to hear you were awake.”

  “Is he still here? Perhaps I should see him.”

  “Indeed you should not,” said Emily. “Receive him in your bedchamber, would you? You’ll do no such thing.”

  “No, of course not,” said Georgiana. “But I could go downstairs and–”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Emily. “You’re weak as a kitten. Besid
es, he has gone. He said he would call tomorrow.”

  “Well, I shall see him then,” said Georgiana.

  “We’ll see.” There was a mischievous look in Emily’s eyes. “Of course, if you see Mr Lakesby, I will not be able to deny Miss Knatchbull.”

  “Oh, very well.”

  Despite Emily’s doubts, Georgiana did get her own way the following day and sat in the drawing room to receive Mr Lakesby. She was arrayed in a satin dressing gown of pale blue, her luxurious hair held back with a matching blue ribbon. Miss Knatchbull, having been denied entry to her cousin’s sickroom, was determined to make up for it now Georgiana had left her bed. She fussed endlessly over Georgiana, insisting she ought to have a blanket over her knees and asking numerous times whether she needed a hot brick. By the time Lakesby arrived, Georgiana was driven to distraction by this solicitude. She only succeeded in getting rid of Selina by asking if she would make up a cold compress.

  Lakesby greeted Miss Knatchbull as she fluttered from the room to carry out this errand. He held the door open for her before turning his attention to Georgiana. He paused momentarily on the threshold and visibly drew in his breath before advancing to greet her. He bent over her hand and Georgiana noticed his eyes flicker towards her bandaged shoulder. The household had been told she had taken a tumble from her horse when starting to sicken with the influenza.

  “I am glad to hear you are better,” said Lakesby, taking a seat in the armchair opposite her. “A fall from your horse as well as influenza? Most unfortunate.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Mr Lakesby.”

  The door closed behind the maid who had served their tea. Georgiana smiled.

  “Please don’t give it a thought. I understand Sir Andrew Gainston has been attending you. He is a fine surgeon and a friend of mine.” Lakesby paused. “He is very discreet.”

  “Indeed? I would have thought that a requirement of a surgeon, in any case.”

  “Very true. But Andrew finds it less of a struggle than certain others.” It was a moment before he spoke again. “Your cousin seems very concerned for your welfare.”

  “Yes. She is a good creature, but Emily thought it best to keep her from my room while I was ill. As you can imagine, this has not pleased her, hence I am being overpowered with kindness now.”

  Lakesby smiled but Georgiana was aware of him looking at her intently. “You are very pale still,” he said. “Are you sure you should be out of bed?”

  “I am well enough,” said Georgiana.

  Lakesby shook his head slowly. “No, there is something wrong. Won’t you tell me?”

  Georgiana was wary. Lakesby spoke again, his tone lighter.

  “I imagine you won’t have heard, there was a scuffle on the Bath Road a few evenings ago. There is talk the Crimson Cavalier was involved.”

  “Really?” Georgiana felt as if she had swallowed a biscuit whole.

  “Apparently he managed to escape. There is a story he had some help.”

  “Fortuitous for him.”

  “To have someone conveniently on the road to lend aid as he was shot? I should say so.”

  His voice grew serious again. “There’s been talk of the Crimson Cavalier getting caught, talk in very odd quarters.”

  Georgiana looked puzzled. “But there are always rumours. All sorts of people think they know what to do.”

  Lakesby leaned forward and shook his head. “This was different. I was in Jackson’s Saloon. There were gentlemen talking as if they knew something, not ones given to boasting. It wasn’t an odd one or two, nearly everyone seemed to have heard something, though no one could quite remember where the story originated. There was a definite air of anticipation, everyone seemed certain the Crimson Cavalier was on the verge of capture.”

  Georgiana looked thoughtful. “Edward said he expected to capture the Crimson Cavalier before too long.”

  “I daresay,” said Lakesby. “But would he have been discussing it in Jackson’s Saloon?”

  “No, of course not,” said Georgiana. “I can’t imagine Edward or the Runners waiting on the road to mount an ambush. Surely they would take him into custody properly?”

  “Quite. Neither would they let their plans be known to half of London. That tale had to be put around by the murderer.”

  “But why? What could it possibly achieve?”

  Lakesby stood and took a turn about the room towards the hearth. “It seems to me he – or she – must be feeling threatened. When Sir Robert was killed, everyone immediately put the blame on the Crimson Cavalier.”

  “I know,” said Georgiana.

  “But you’ve been asking questions, raising doubts.”

  “I don’t know,” said Georgiana. “It seems everyone I’ve spoken to still thinks it is the Crimson Cavalier.”

  “Not everyone,” Lakesby reminded her.

  “Perhaps. But the general opinion still seems to be in that direction.”

  “Possibly. But in any case, the murderer can’t be sure,” said Lakesby. “The longer an investigation continues, the more people may start to wonder about the Crimson Cavalier’s guilt. What if he is brought to trial and has an opportunity to defend himself? What if the Crimson Cavalier can prove he didn’t kill Sir Robert?”

  “Maybe he can’t,” said Georgiana. She looked at Lakesby, as the full implication broke. “But the murderer doesn’t know that.”

  Lakesby leaned on the back of the sofa where Georgiana sat and shook his head. “No. His best chance is for the Crimson Cavalier to be killed, either attempting a robbery or with someone trying to effect a capture.”

  “The investigation into Sir Robert’s murder would end,” said Georgiana slowly. “The murderer would be safe.” Her brows knitted. “Or Sir Robert Foster would be safe?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Lakesby looked all at sea.

  “His memory, his good name, his family.” Georgiana laid emphasis on the last word.

  “Yes, I see.” Lakesby looked thoughtful. “Lady Wickerston?”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “Edward may be thinking about scotching a scandal. He does seem to have other loyalties at present.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him,” said Lakesby to Georgiana’s surprise. “I know his involvement with Lady Wickerston came as a surprise, but I believe there was a reason for it.”

  “It isn’t that,” said Georgiana. “Edward seemed very quick to defend Lady Wickerston. He said he was with her when Sir Robert was killed.”

  “Surely you didn’t accuse him of Sir Robert’s murder?”

  “No,” said Georgiana. “Neither did I accuse Lady Wickerston.”

  Lakesby raised an eyebrow.

  “You think he felt a need to defend her?”

  “Edward was very eager to tell me she had nothing to gain from her uncle’s death.”

  “I wonder, did she?” Lakesby mused. “She may get a legacy, but I would hardly imagine it worth killing him. In any case, it would go straight to her husband.” He glanced towards Georgiana. “I’m sure you have seen how she fears him.”

  Georgiana nodded. “There is something frightening about him.”

  “Yes,” said Lakesby. “I cannot say more. My information is from idle rumour and speculation. Speak to your brother; I imagine he knows more than I do. It is difficult to believe he would subvert justice for her. I’ve always known him very strait-laced.”

  “Yes.” Georgiana sounded thoughtful.

  “I believe Sir Robert persuaded his niece to marry Wickerston. If I remember rightly, he was her guardian and he provided a sizeable portion for her.”

  “Really?”

  Lakesby nodded. “On the understanding she would receive no more from him. Wickerston was considered a good match, he’d just come into a decent inheritance himself. I don’t think anyone expected him to drink his way through it in less than five years.”

  Georgiana gave a rueful smile, shaking her head. “Do you think Sir Robert’s refusal of further funds included hi
s will?”

  “I’ve no idea,” said Lakesby. “To be honest, I suspect it’s a point of conjecture even with Lord and Lady Wickerston.”

  “Perhaps a bequest would give Lady Wickerston a way out of her marriage, if she could get hold of the funds before her husband,” Georgiana said.

  Lakesby frowned. “She’d hardly expect your brother to leave his wife and family for her, would she?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. But a bequest from her uncle might allow her to live independently.”

  “And ostracised,” said Lakesby, picking up his driving gloves. “She’d be better suited having her husband killed.”

  “To inherit the bills from his wine merchant,” quizzed Georgiana.

  “Touché,” said Lakesby. “Try to get some rest, you need to get well.”

  “Indeed you do,” said Selina, entering the room in time to hear Lakesby’s last words. “Today is your first day out of bed and you mustn’t exhaust yourself. Isn’t that right, Mr Lakesby?”

  “Most certainly. I should go. You are looking tired.”

  “Here is your compress, Georgiana,” said Selina, trotting over to her cousin’s side.

  Georgiana eyed the item with disfavour.

  “Thank you, Selina, just leave it. Would you mind fetching my shawl, please?”

  “Not at all. I shall be back in a trice.”

  Georgiana spoke as soon as Selina was out of earshot.

  “One other thing concerns me,” said Georgiana. “No one seems to know why Sir Robert was out on the road that night.”

  18

  Georgiana was infuriated by her enforced idleness. For some time after Lakesby left, she sat thinking about what she could usefully do. Selina, on returning with the shawl for which Georgiana had sent her, made approving noises that Mr Lakesby had kept his visit short, since she was certain it must have tired poor Georgiana. Poor Georgiana paid little heed, her mind occupied with the more pressing matter of Sir Robert Foster’s murder. Selina eventually gave up, busying herself with some household tasks. Shortly afterwards, the maid came and cleared away the tea things, giving her abstracted mistress a mildly curious glance.