by Jayne Davis
“Hmm. Well, I am not so desperate for an heir I would see you rush into something that is not right for you.”
Nick took a mouthful of port. He was relieved that his father wasn’t pressing him to make a decision, but he did have to marry at some time. Miss Roper was the only potential wife he had met so far who seemed to meet his requirements in any way. She would organise his household well without bothering him, and leave him plenty of time for his own pursuits.
“I recall Somerton—you won’t remember him, Nick. Chose a wife because she was sensible, but…”
Nick listened to his father’s rambling story, relieved that tonight’s interrogation seemed to be over.
Chapter 16
Nick called on Lady Tregarth the following day, surprised to find Lady Isabella also present when he was shown into the parlour. She did not appear to be suffering any ill effects from their expedition as she greeted him with a smile, the cream and primrose stripes on her gown adding to her cheerful air.
“I thought it would be better for you to talk to Isabella yourself,” Lady Tregarth explained, once the normal greetings had been exchanged and the tea tray brought. “You will be pleased to know that Fletcher is settled with Lady Jesson.”
That was good news. “Are you recovered from your trip, Lady Isabella?”
“Yes. I have to thank you, sir—I could not have done it without your assistance.”
“You are welcome.” He had made a better job of it than that Portuguese, although the man’s sword-wielding had probably cut a more dashing figure. “I hope your brother doesn’t find out—I hardly think he would approve.”
She smiled, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”
He could not help but laugh.
“Mr Carterton…” The twinkle had gone from Lady Isabella’s eyes, and she looked serious. “What do you know of Lord Narwood?”
“Narwood? I don’t know him, I’m afraid. Is he taking an interest?”
“I fear so. I… I cannot like him.”
He didn’t enquire further—her expression was telling enough. Her dislike was clearly more than the boredom she felt when with Barnton.
“He is in his forties,” Lady Tregarth said. “Wealthy enough, as far as I know, but I have heard little about him. I will enquire.”
Nick took a breath—he had hoped Wingrave would return before he needed to take any real action. “As will I,” he promised. He could start by asking his father.
“Thank you,” Lady Isabella said. “Could I ask you some more questions?”
Lady Tregarth chuckled. “Do not look so dismayed, Mr Carterton. Isabella only wants information; she is not planning another expedition.”
“Ask, then.” He trusted he would not have to discuss anything too improper.
“I was wondering how you knew a man like Jarndyce. What is his occupation?”
He hadn’t expected that, but he saw no harm in explaining. “Jarndyce is a rent collector. As you can imagine, his size is a great encouragement to those who are reluctant to pay.” He’d meant the comment in jest, but her quick frown showed she had not taken it that way. “He does have a heart, Lady Isabella, and does his best to help those who cannot pay through no fault of their own.” But not those who’d wasted their money on drink or whores.
“How do you come to know him? Does he collect rent for you?”
“I do not own any such properties. I was introduced to him by Thomas Gilbert; he is a member of parliament who has recently got a bill passed to improve the running of workhouses. He asked me to analyse information that men such as Jarndyce, and others, provide about the conditions in St Giles and Seven Dials.”
“Why are you interested, Mr Carterton? You told me yourself that most people of our class are not concerned about the poor.”
That was a more personal question than he’d expected, but his reasons were no secret. “I used to play with some local lads when I was a child. One of them… well, his mother had to resort to the workhouse after his father was transported for poaching on a neighbouring estate.”
She nodded, her brow still creased in thought. “But poaching is illegal, so why…? I mean, people are supposed to obey the law.”
“Too many mouths to feed,” he said. He watched the corners of her mouth turn down as she filled in the rest of the story for herself.
“They can’t win,” she said, then took a deep breath. “How did you know Lady Tregarth would help?”
“Maria and I contribute to several charities to aid the poor,” Lady Tregarth put in. “Mr Carterton advises those charities from time to time.”
Nick awaited Lady Isabella’s response with interest. Miss Roper, he was sure, would change the subject at this point, if the conversation had even progressed this far. Would she have cared about the fate of a scarcely known seamstress?
“Lady Tregarth said that babies are sent away from workhouses into the country.”
“Yes, it is thought they will be healthier out of the smoke and disease of the city,” he explained. “Unfortunately, that is often not the case and many of them die. Then there is the recent practice of sending children off to be apprenticed, often to distant parts of the country, where their parents may never see them again. All in the name of keeping the costs down.”
“Is that what Mr Gilbert’s bill is for—to increase the money?”
Nick glanced at Lady Tregarth, still surprised by the interest Lady Isabella was showing. He’d expected her involvement to end with the rescue of her seamstress.
“I can explain, if you have another appointment, Mr Carterton.”
“No, thank you, I am quite happy to talk on the subject. I do not wish to bore either of you.”
“I do not mind,” Lady Tregarth said. “And Isabella wants to know.”
Half an hour later, with a throat dry from talking, Nick finally took his leave. He’d ranged from corrupt contractors to the differences between indoor and outdoor relief, and explained the plans for introducing guardians to ensure proper use of funds in the workhouses. Lady Isabella had listened intently, and asked questions that showed she had understood most of it.
It was only as he walked home that he recalled the note from Lady Isabella’s maid five days ago—there was an expedition to Vauxhall planned this evening. He should go, to see who might be courting her—and he had yet to pass on Talbot’s warning about the Portuguese. Would she enjoy an evening at the Pleasure Gardens as much as she’d enjoyed the theatre and the musicale?
As he entered the Handel Piazza at Vauxhall, Nick could hear Lady Cerney berating a waiter for poor service. She sat at the back of the supper box, with Mrs Roper beside her. Nick grimaced at the sight of Lord Barnton in the party—he’d had the misfortune to be subjected to the man’s lectures on several occasions. Miss Roper listened with apparent interest, but Lady Isabella was looking out across the piazza, her attention on the people passing by.
He approached the box as the hapless waiter left at a trot.
“Carterton!” Lady Cerney said, the gleam of speculation in her eyes making Nick feel wary. “You are acquainted with Lord Barnton, I think?”
“Indeed,” Barnton said. “Evening, Carterton.”
“Join us if you wish,” Lady Cerney went on. “I’m sure that sluggard waiter will be back soon.”
“Thank you.”
Lady Isabella moved down the bench, and Nick sat. Lord Barnton picked up the bottle on the table and topped up Lady Cerney’s glass. “Do have some more wine while we wait, my lady. Mrs Roper.” The two young women had glasses of what looked like lemonade in front of them.
“Is this your first visit here, Lady Isabella?” Nick asked. “Are you enjoying it?”
“It’s wonderful,” she said, eyes sparkling with excitement. “But I wish we could walk around. Jemima tells me there’s a cascade that mimics a waterfall.”
“Indeed there is.” He pulled out his watch. “Although it will not be in operation for anothe
r hour or more.”
“I would be happy to show you the triumphal arches, Lady Isabella,” Barnton offered. “Or would you like to view the paintings in the Saloon?”
Nick hid his amusement at the brief flash of dismay that crossed Lady Isabella’s face. “The triumphal arches, please,” she said firmly. “Jemima, will you come, too? Aunt, may I go?”
“I don’t see why not, as long as you all stay together.”
“I will join you, if I may,” Nick said. Lady Isabella might not take too unkindly to his warning about da Gama if he rescued her from one of Barnton’s improving lectures.
Barnton took Lady Isabella’s arm, and Nick offered his to Miss Roper. They had not gone ten paces when Barnton stopped by the statue of Handel.
“You have heard of Handel, I assume, Lady Isabella?”
“Of course, my lord.” Lady Isabella pointed at the plump cherub sitting at the composer’s feet. “Is that his son?”
“My dear Lady Isabella, that should more correctly be called a putto. It represents the inspiration…”
Nick shook his head as Barton continued. How was she to enjoy the evening if they could not walk ten yards without a lecture? Miss Roper, standing beside him, was again listening with concentration. He supposed Barnton’s discourse might be interesting, if only it were not delivered in such a pompous manner.
“Handel’s rehearsal for the Music for the Royal Fireworks was carried out here,” Barnton finished, “witnessed by thousands of people.”
“How fascinating,” Lady Isabella said, and Nick’s lips twitched at the hint of sarcasm he detected. “Did you attend?”
Nick suppressed a snort of laughter as Barnton scowled down at her. “That took place over thirty years ago, Lady Isabella.”
“Shall we go and see the arches?” Nick interjected, hoping to fend off another lecture.
Bella took Lord Barnton’s arm again as they set off down the walk, wishing she could change places with Jemima. Mr Carterton had talked for half an hour or more this morning, about workhouses and the poor, without losing her attention. Why was it so much more difficult to listen to Lord Barnton? The topics were interesting, but she always felt he was condescending to someone of lesser intellect by imparting his greater knowledge.
But she was with him now, and must make the best of it. The surroundings were beautiful, the path illuminated by the many lanterns suspended in the trees. They were bright enough to hide the stars, but looked like huge stars themselves. The strains of music coming from the central orchestra enhanced the magical effects.
Bella looked into the supper boxes they passed, trying to make out the paintings on the back of each one.
“Each box has a different image,” Lord Barnton informed her. “They depict…”
She sighed—could she not be left to simply look, and enjoy the music?
“…British life and traditions. There are other paintings…”
Her heart sped up as she spotted Senhor da Gama in one of the boxes. He had his back to her, and was facing Lady Milton, but she would know him anywhere. Was Lady Milton only a family friend, or was she something more?
“…scenes from Shakespeare’s plays…”
Maria Jesson and her husband were sitting with them. Bella looked away, trying to focus on what Lord Barnton was now saying about the arches. Senhor da Gama was nothing more than a friendly acquaintance—it shouldn’t matter to her who he was with.
“…canvas and wood, but the effect…”
“Lady Isabella!”
Bella released Lord Barnton’s arm and turned. Maria was following them.
“Lady Jesson.” Lord Barnton looked down his nose at her, his mouth a thin line. “I am showing Lady Isabella around the gardens.”
“I’m so sorry, my lord.” Maria curtseyed, looking serious to anyone who did not know her. “But I wanted to give Lady Isabella a message.”
“I do not approve of gossip, madam, and you are—”
“Lady Jesson is my friend, Lord Barnton,” Bella interrupted, taken aback by his hostility.
“She is—”
“Come, Barnton,” Mr Carterton said behind them. “Miss Roper and I would be interested to learn more about these arches.”
Lord Barnton glared at Maria, then took up a position next to Jemima. “The paintings on the arches…”
“Poor Jemima,” Bella said quietly, linking arms with Maria and walking on. “One never has to think what to say to Lord Barnton. And I learn so much…”
“…whether or not you wish to! But how heroic of Carterton,” Maria giggled. “Perhaps you should encourage him as a suitor?”
Mr Carterton? No, he was not interested in her—no more than a brother would be.
“Why does Lord Barnton dislike you so?” Bella asked.
Maria shrugged. “I do have a bit of a reputation as a gossip.” She glanced sideways at Bella. “But I do not repeat things about my friends, or anything that would be damaging or is untrue. Lord Barnton was on the point of making an… arrangement… last year, when gossip reached his inamorata that made her back out. For some reason, he thinks it was me.”
“Gossip spoiled his marriage plans?” Bella could understand him being bitter at that.
“Er, not exactly. The… the woman who backed out was—still is—a well-known opera singer. Barton was furious when she took up with someone else.”
“Oh.”
“It is quite common, you know, for men of our class to keep a mistress.” She put her head closer to Bella’s. “Just think, if you were married to Barnton, wouldn’t you be happy if he spent a lot of his time elsewhere?”
Bella bit her lips and nodded. Maria was trying to distract her, she knew, but it wasn’t working. “Why did you come after us?”
“I saw you look into our box. Bella, I know you like Senhor da Gama, but he is definitely pursuing Lady Milton. And he’s been seen with Lady Sudbury several times, too. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
Bella could not deny what she had seen. “I thought he liked me,” she said, just managing to keep a wobble from her voice.
“He may, but when a man is… befriending three women…” Maria sighed. “Bella, he is using at least two of you, possibly all three.”
“Using?” Using her? She swallowed against a lump in her throat—she’d thought Senhor da Gama liked her for herself.
“I don’t know what he wants, Bella. A dalliance, perhaps? From what I know of Lady Milton, he’ll be out of luck with her. Fletcher speaks highly of her, too. She’s lonely, but I don’t think she’s foolish enough to risk her marriage.”
“What about Lady Sudbury?”
“Oh, he’ll have no trouble there. She’s…” Maria broke off and bit her lip.
“No-one tells me anything,” Bella protested, even though she knew she was being unfair.
“Very well. Lady Sudbury is known for having numerous lovers. Sudbury doesn’t care.”
“Oh.”
“Has Senhor da Gama said anything… significant to you, Bella?”
“Nothing about courting me, no.” Although the way he gazed into her eyes sometimes had led her to think he might... or hope he might. “He said that Lady Milton was a family friend.”
“Fletcher hadn’t heard of any Portuguese connections,” Maria reminded her. “And he’s not acting as if she’s only a friend.”
Bella sighed. “So that may not have been true—probably isn’t true. But what could he want from me?”
“Your dowry?”
Bella blinked back tears as she looked away.
Maria laid a hand on her arm. “If it’s any consolation, I think he does like you, Bella. It’s possible that he may not be using you at all.”
“It’s silly to repine,” Bella said, taking a deep breath. “Papa would never approve of a match.” That didn’t stop her from feeling hurt, though.
“What have you talked about with him?” Maria asked.
“Paintings… all sorts of things, really.” H
e’d been amusing to talk to—what they talked about hadn’t mattered.
“Hmm.” Lady Jesson tapped her chin with a finger. “If he was really after your dowry, why would he risk being seen with another woman like that? It has put you off him a little, I think.”
Bella nodded miserably.
“And why Lady Milton? If he were Spanish, or French, I might be suspicious—Sir Edward is something in the Admiralty. But she is also an attractive woman—there need be no other reason he is pursuing her.” Maria glanced behind them. “I think we have conferred long enough. Do think about what I have said, Bella, next time Senhor da Gama approaches you.”
“Are you ready to return, ladies?”
Bella turned to find that only Mr Carterton and Jemima stood behind them.
“I think Lord Barnton has imparted his stock of knowledge for the evening,” Mr Carterton said, only a twitch of his lips betraying his amusement.
“You were most generous, sir, to listen on our behalf.” Maria curtseyed with a smile. “But, yes, I should return to my husband.”
They walked back down the avenue in companionable silence, Maria leaving them as they passed her supper box. Bella could not enjoy the lights and the music as she had earlier; her mind was on what Maria had said. What did Senhor da Gama really want with her?
She tried to put that question from her mind when they reached their box. Lord Barnton was already there, looking rather disgruntled. Bella felt a brief stab of guilt—she hadn’t been polite to him. She didn’t want to marry him, but he might be the only alternative to Lord Narwood. She should endeavour to make up for her deliberate obtuseness earlier.
As Jemima slipped into the bench to sit next to her mother, Bella sat down next to Lord Barnton, ignoring his raised brows.
“My lord, I was sorry to have missed your explanation of the arches,” she said. “Won’t you tell me about them?”
Nick was in two minds whether to rejoin the party, but Lady Isabella’s words decided him. He wasn’t about to sit through Barnton’s lecture again, not when there was little chance of having a private word with her. Instead, he set off back towards the triumphal arch—he hadn’t missed Lady Isabella’s hesitation when she noticed Senhor da Gama, and the man had still been in that box when they passed it on their return. If he couldn’t warn Lady Isabella about the Portuguese, he could try to satisfy Talbot’s request to know more about what the man was up to.