And what was the connection, Mr Van Deusen wondered, between Sir Beauchamp, Sir Alan and Cobie Grant—who was so amazingly like both of them? He thought that it might not be wise to ask, given the erratic behaviour of the aristocracy at that period—and now, too, for that matter.
Instead he began quizzing Sir Alan gently about his father, the transported convict: a man of whom he was obviously proud and of whom he was quite willing to speak.
‘We used to call him the Patriarch,’ Sir Alan said. ‘It was only half a joke. He was a most remarkable man.’
He saw that he had his audience’s attention, and added, ‘Not long before she died, my mother told me the truth of her marriage. It seems that, being gently born, but desperately poor, he rescued her from penury by marrying her. But given the disparity in their years and their station, she being a gentlewoman and he a transported thief, something he never hid, he delayed making her his true wife until some time after they were married. Indeed, I gathered from my mother, although she gave me no details, that he had tricked her into marriage. Despite his trickery it became a true love match, rare then—and even rarer now.’
He paused, lost in thought: his mind had retreated nearly sixty years into the past.
‘She had an air of your wife about her, Jacobus,’ he said slowly, and wondered why his nephew should have given him a look, an oddly subtle look, which he recognised—a look he associated with the Patriarch.
The old man had been devious, devilish devious, as was this young one, who resembled him so greatly in both looks and character. He remembered something which his brother Jack had said a little bitterly of his unacknowledged son, ‘When I am with Cobie it is as though the Patriarch was back on earth again. If anything he’s even trickier and more ruthless than the Patriarch ever was.’
So the line held true. None of Sir Alan’s sons or grandsons bore the look of, or resembled in character, the Patriarch, but his bastard grandson did. What was more, something which he had just said had amused that grandson.
‘My father made his own law,’ Sir Alan said reflectively, ‘which I believe to be much more difficult in these over-civilised days. It was easier for him because, in a frontier society like Australia nearly eighty years ago, the law was a more fragile thing. As I understand it was, until recently, in the American Southwest.’
‘Indeed,’ said Cobie, drinking his own solitary glass of brandy, another trait he shared with his devious and temperate grandfather, and marvelling, that like him, he had tricked his wife into marrying him. ‘But I fancy that a determined man might follow his own line, don’t you, sir?’
‘At some risk,’ returned Sir Alan heavily, ‘and it were best to remember that, young Cobie. My father was lucky. Sometimes those who soar too near the sun are not.’
Mr Van Deusen looked from one man to the other, and said, with a knowing grin, ‘A case of the pot calling the kettle black, one imagines.’
Sir Alan laughed. ‘True, old age brings caution to us all, I must not forget that. I rather took after my father in youth. But here, in England, the power of the law is greater than it is either in Australia, or the United States.’
Cobie, his brandy finished, took this as a warning: the third. ‘What I tell you three times is true.’ First the Salvation Army Captain, next Hendrick, and now my uncle. I must never forget that Sir Alan had sat among the mighty in Britain for nearly fifty years and, that being so, is probably still in touch with them. He probably knows more than he cares to reveal.
So he would heed the warning, and would be cautious, but he intended to have Sir Ratcliffe Heneage’s scalp, even if the means of taking it had not yet been revealed to him. Patience, he told himself, and Chance, Machiavelli’s Chance, the horse I have ridden before, will come to me to be ridden again.
‘You will, of course, visit us at Moorings, immediately the Season ends. Kenilworth is insistent on it.’ Goodness knows why, was her inward comment.
‘We shall then join the Prince at Sandringham. Shortly afterwards the whole party, including the Prince, will travel on to Markendale, our place in the North,’ Violet said to Cobie and Dinah when she met them at the Leominsters’ ball. ‘I shall expect you to join us there as well.’
The Leominsters’ ball was always one of the most prestigious events of the London Season and had been for nearly a hundred years. The present Lady Leominster greatly resembled her famous predecessor who had reigned over high society in Regency times and who had bullied everyone from high to low. Cobie had once joked to Dinah that there must be something in the air of Leominster House which turned the wife of its owner into a dragon.
The dragon had shrieked at Dinah, ‘My dear, you are this Season’s darling—and all the result of marrying that handsome husband of yours, I am told!’ It was the kind of personal remark which only she could get away with.
‘So he informs me,’ returned Dinah slyly, earning another shriek, plus a rap on her right shoulder from the Countess’s fan.
Dinah had been reading a newly published collection of Regency letters which had included many describing the extravagant conduct of her hostess’s predecessor. She could only conclude that her hostess had read them, too, and had modelled her behaviour on what had been written there.
‘You see, Dinah,’ Cobie had explained to her before Violet had swept up to them in the hope of sharing some of her once-despised sister’s fame, ‘if you want to be hailed as a true eccentric who must be allowed to say what one pleases, you must be as outré as possible. Half-measures in your behaviour will merely ensure that you are despised.
‘Behave like Lady Leominster and one or two others in society and you become a kind of dreadful icon to be adored. If you lived in London’s East End such conduct would earn you the admiring comment, “Ooh, you are a one!” Here we drawl, “Typical Lady L., that. Whatever will she say next!”’
‘And you should know, Cobie,’ Dinah could not resist saying. ‘You should know.’
‘Oh, naughty,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Remind me to reprimand you properly when we reach home tonight. I can’t do it here—I might frighten the footmen.’
This last remark had Dinah blushing and laughing, so that Violet raised her eyebrows, but dared not say anything dismissive to society’s latest pet. And what a turn-up that was!
‘Of course we shall visit Moorings, and Markendale, too,’ Cobie said before Dinah could open her mouth. ‘Won’t we, my dear Dinah? Wouldn’t miss either of them for the world. I do hope that you propose to invite Hendrick, too. He and Dinah can hide in the library and read Gibbon’s Decline and Fall together.’
It was Dinah’s turn to hit someone with her fan—as she had fantasised at the Marquise’s in Paris—and that someone was her husband.
‘And what, sir, will you be doing? Perhaps I ought not to ask.’
‘Watching over the pair of you,’ he returned, ‘to see that you do not neglect your studies.’
Dinah’s smile at Cobie was one of pure glee. ‘Don’t you mean that I ought to watch you and Mr Van Deusen so that I can be sure that you are both behaving yourselves?’
Violet stared at the pair of them. What surprised her most was not that Cobie was teasing Dinah, but that she was teasing him back. It was like watching a tennis match, she decided, a verbal one. They seemed to be doing it all the time these days.
‘I ought to tell you,’ Violet said, ‘that I really came over at the Prince’s request to ask you to join his party. He’s in the yellow drawing room—he doesn’t dance much these days, and he seems to have taken a great fancy to you, Cobie.’
She didn’t add that the Prince had also praised Grant’s pretty young wife. ‘Never thought that she’d turn into such an unusual beauty. She didn’t look like that when she lived with you, Lady K.’
If there was a slight reproach hidden in his words, Violet had chosen not to heed it. Instead, she made a performance of ushering Cobie and Dinah to the salon where the Prince was holding state among a small and select group
of his friends.
‘Ah, Grant, there you are. I knew that Lady K. would have no trouble in finding you.’ If there was another double meaning hidden there, his hearers chose not to heed that, either.
‘Take a chair, Grant, and you, Lady Dinah, come and sit next to me. Such fresh young beauty does an old man’s heart good.’
He was indicating a small stool beside his armchair. Dinah bowed and, plumping out her skirts when she sat down, did as she was bid.
‘Excellent. Now I have a question for your husband—and it is not about how he has transformed you—I’m sure that we all know the answer to that. No, it’s a serious one, about business—and I don’t mean the business of Princes, I mean the business of surviving on Wall Street and in the world of commerce. Answer me that, sir.’
Cobie had been shown to a seat opposite to the Prince who appeared to be in the most jovial of good humours that night. He bowed slightly from the waist before offering his royal questioner his sweetest smile.
‘Oh, that is an easy question to answer: by the exercise of a great deal of low cunning—with an occasional admixture of the higher sort.’
The Prince threw his head back and laughed: turning to Dinah, he asked her a question. ‘Tell me, Lady Dinah, is that the kind of bon mot which he favours you with? And what do you say to him when he comes out with such remarks?’
Dinah’s smile for him was as sweet as Cobie’s.
‘Why, sir, I pay him back in his own coin—as, for instance, to what he has just said, I might reply, “Then, Cobie, that being so, I am sure that you will not object to me following your example the next time we go shopping together.”’
The Prince waved his cigar in the air, and led the general laughter. ‘Oh, bravo, Lady Dinah. And you, sir, is she telling the truth? Do you go shopping with her?’
Cobie’s smile was as much for Dinah as the Prince. ‘When we were first married, yes, but once I had instructed her in the high art of overspending on everything, I soon found that she needed no further instruction. She was well able to excel in it on her own.’
Again the Prince’s guffaw led the laughter. Was it really as easy as this to gain a reputation for being a wit? thought Dinah bemusedly. She could see that both Violet and Rainey were staring at her as though she had grown two heads— Sir Ratcliffe looked as if he thought that she had sprouted three!
The Prince was still concentrating his attention on them. ‘I hear that you have many other talents, Grant, besides a facility for making money. Once the Season ends, we shall be going to Sandringham, and you and Lady Dinah must do me the honour of joining me there—for the whole week, if you please. I am determined to put you both through your paces.
‘After that I am off to Markendale Hall, Kenilworth’s northern place, and I have given orders that you are to be invited there as well—if Lady K. has not already done so.’
Violet said, a little desperately, Dinah thought, ‘Oh, I have already issued them an invitation, sir, and they have accepted it.’
‘Good, excellent. I shall look forward to enjoying your company, Grant. In the meantime, since I understand that you excel at cards also, I command you to join me in a rubber of whist—as my partner, of course.
‘Lady Dinah, I instruct you to lead your friend, Mr Van Deusen, to the library where you may inspect Leominster’s superb collection of Rembrandt’s etchings and drawings. At least, I’ve been told it’s superb, haven’t seen it myself—not my sort of thing at all, but if what I am told is true, then I’m sure that you will both appreciate it. I shall order coffee and wine to be served for you there. Beauchamp will be your escort and look after your wants.’
He waved an airy hand at the small grey man who stood behind his chair saying, ‘Of course, sir, as you wish,’ to everything which his master ordered.
‘When they have finished their inspection, Beauchamp, pray bring them both back here so that Mr Van Deusen may be presented to me. From all I hear, he sounds to be well worth knowing. Particularly, of course, if Mr Grant values him as a friend.’
Cobie, amused by all this Royal favour, wondered how much silent teeth-gnashing was going on while he and Dinah were moved up the chess board of life to the squares where the favourites of Princes stood.
He had been watching Dinah’s reactions to the honours conferred on them, and her slightly sardonic expression was a joy to him. He had a brief flash of memory. A few days after he had sent the bold girl to his Sea Coal Street home, he had visited it, to find out whether she had actually gone there.
Bristow had been present, and had given Cobie a warm greeting. It appeared that most of the children he had rescued from Hoskyns’s brothel had arrived at the refuge near Waterloo Bridge, where they had been cared for, and that the bold girl had found her way to Sea Coal Street.
‘She’s in the kitchen, with my wife,’ the Superintendent, Hedges, told him. ‘Do you wish to see her?’
‘Yes,’ said Cobie. ‘I should like to know what your plans are for her future.’
‘Well, Mr Dilley, she was a bit wild and troubled at first, but good food and kindness softened her a bit. The doctor helped, too. My wife discovered that she was badly bruised, and sent for him. He examined her, told us that she was clean—you know what I mean, I’m sure—and that she needed loving care. Seeing as how she was older than the rest of the kiddies, my wife thought that we might try to train her to be a parlour maid. Our present one will be leaving us soon. She, the missis, thinks that she will suit since she seems eager to learn.
‘She won’t tell us anything about her family, so we can’t send her back to them. In any case, they might not want her. We hope that you approve of what we are doing.’
‘Very much so,’ said Cobie.
He rose when the bold girl was shown in by the Superintendent’s wife.
‘This is Miss Mary Connor,’ she told Cobie.
The girl stared at him sullenly. He was wearing his masher’s outfit.
Cobie offered her a slight bow, and, ‘How do you do, Miss Connor.’
‘You rescued me,’ she said, at last. ‘I suppose I ought to thank you. Connor’s not my name, but it will do. Why are you here?’
‘To see that you are safe—and are reasonably happy.’
‘As happy as I shall ever be, I suppose. Why do you care about me?’
‘You’d rather I didn’t?’
She laughed suddenly. ‘I like you. You’re not a canting parson, are you, trying to save my soul? I like them, too,’ and she inclined her head towards the Superintendent and his wife. ‘Yes, I’ll be their parlour maid. It will be a better life than the one I led in Hoskyns’s attic, that’s for sure.’
‘Good,’ he said, and took her hand to kiss it. She stared at him again. Surely men only did that to ladies in society and not to humble kitchen-maids?
‘I wish you luck in your new life, Miss Connor, and I shall keep an eye on your progress, you may be sure of that.’
This, and the kiss, brought her first smile—a watery one, to be sure, but still a smile.
Like the dead Lizzie her expression and manner had reminded him of the defeated Dinah Freville whom he had first met at Moorings. He had been pondering on this odd piece of insight while he walked along Sea Coal Street on his way home when a hard voice broke in upon his musings.
‘I thought that I might meet you here, Grant. Doing your charitable bit, are you? How do you square it with your other, less legitimate, interests?’
It was Walker, looking at him with an expression which could only be described as malevolent.
Cobie smiled at him. ‘Are you on duty, Inspector, or are you chasing after me in your spare time? I cannot think what you hope to discover.’
‘You can’t?’ Walker’s brows rose, and although he didn’t know it his expression was a mirror image of the one his quarry sometimes used to upset his enemies.
‘I might find out what you got up to at Hoskyns’s bordello, mightn’t I? And check whether it was in any way similar to y
our goings-on in the American Southwest where you seem to have been running around under yet another name. Criminal coves using more names than one deserve to be followed. The only trouble I have is to decide by which one I am going to call you when I nick you for Hoskyns’s murder, as you may be sure that I will, however long it takes me.’
Cobie thought quickly, So, the wary copper is no fool. The question now is, by what means has he discovered my murky wild western past? Has he uncovered Hendrick’s as well? If he hasn’t, I must be sure not to say anything that would put him on Hendrick’s trail. The less Walker knows, the better. He now knows too much already.
‘I really cannot imagine what you can be speaking of, Inspector. I trust that you have not been reading too many dime novels. They rarely bear any relationship to the truth of the events which they purport to describe.’
His manner when he came out with this was so aloofly majestic that it would have done credit to a hanging judge on the bench. It did little to improve Walker’s frayed temper.
‘So you say, so you say,’ he growled. ‘Not that I’m after you for what you got up to ten years ago, but it does offer a few pointers to what you might be getting up to today, doesn’t it?’
‘Hardly,’ said Walker’s quarry, still apparently unmoved. ‘Allow me to save you some further skulking in corners in order to catch me at my wicked work. Tonight I am to be found at the Leominsters’ ball, where I hope to meet the Prince of Wales. Tomorrow my wife and I will be among the guests at a boating party up the Thames which will take in a picnic at Hampton Court. There, that should give you the next thirty-six hours off since I can scarcely be supposed to be organising some kind of criminal operation in full view of half the members of London society, can I? That world is not one where such ventures can be openly followed, now is it? It has little to do with Sea Coal Street and the East End.’
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