by Lisa Boero
“Never in my life,” whispered Pettigrew to Althea, “have I been so honored. Truly, it is a humbling experience to stand in the presence of such greatness. I wonder that you can talk so freely. All maidenly feeling must desire reverent silence.”
“Obviously it does not,” she said.
Pettigrew seemed unsure of how to reply, so he took a deep breath and began another subject. “I have not been idle today. You will be happy to know that I secured a curricle for my sojourn in London, so that we may partake of the promenade in Hyde Park just as I promised you.”
But at that moment, there was a commotion, and two well-dressed men entered the already crowded box.
“The Duke of Norwich,” Althea said, not entirely pleased to have to introduce Norwich to Pettigrew.
“And who is that with him?” Pettigrew asked.
“Lord George Verlyn, his brother.”
“I see.” There was an edge to Pettigrew’s voice.
The two gentlemen paid their respects to His Royal Highness and to Sir Neville and then approached Althea. “Lovely to see you again, Lady Trent,” Verlyn said. He noticed Pettigrew for the first time. “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor . . .”
Althea presented the squire to both brothers and then added, “Mr. Pettigrew has escaped Somerset for a little town diversion.”
“I’m sure you’ll find London to your taste,” Norwich said evenly.
“Indeed, Your Grace. I have just today hired a curricle to promenade with Lady Trent in Hyde Park tomorrow.”
Althea, who could not remember actually agreeing to such a scheme, gave Pettigrew a sharp look.
Norwich paused a moment and then replied, “There must have been some misunderstanding, for I had understood that Lady Trent was engaged to ride with my brother and I for the next several days. Had we not planned it so, Lady Trent?”
Pettigrew remained silent, cowed by the force of personality that had prevented far greater men from wishing to gainsay the duke.
Althea looked at Norwich, her eyes warm with gratitude. “Yes, sir, I believe we had.”
Verlyn stepped in, a twinkle in his eye. “Indeed, for you had expressed a desire to see my new curricle, I believe, when we last spoke.”
“And your horses,” Althea replied. “Cousin John was in such raptures that I have a great curiosity to see such magnificent specimens.”
Finally, goaded beyond limit, Pettigrew blurted out, “But you’ve never been interested in horses!”
Althea turned her wide eyes to him innocently. “In Somerset I had not been privileged to see such fine ones. You must admit there is quite a difference between the farm horse and the thoroughbred.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Althea dragged Jane out shopping with her so as to avoid being home when Pettigrew called. She also stopped by Madame Longet’s for a final fitting of her masquerade costume. It had been decided that Verlyn was to be her escort that afternoon, so as she stood still while the seamstresses pulled and pinned fabric around her, she daydreamed a little about a carriage ride with a charming and handsome man.
He arrived in a smart curricle with a well-matched pair of bays. As he handed her up, he remarked, “I hope the horses don’t disappoint.”
“Of course not. I want to thank you for your timely intervention. You saved me from one of the greatest bores in Somerset.”
“I had no notion,” he said ironically. Then, getting up beside her, “Although my knight errant service does give me the opportunity to converse at length with you, which I have desired for some time.”
“Beware. Your brother will tell you that my conversation runs to esoteric and not altogether pleasant subjects.”
“Really? But then my brother has always been odd, so the unusual is sure to fascinate him.”
“More likely repulse. I will refrain from my natural conversation and ask you about your travels. Where is the strangest place you have ever visited?”
“But that is hardly a safe subject, for my conversation may be just as repulsive. Exactly what subjects have raised an objection, by the way, so that I may avoid them?”
“Insects. My husband was a great scholar of them, and your brother seems not to have the same stomach for ghastly tales of decomposition.”
“That is hardly sporting of him, is it? Perhaps you and I are better matched, for the strangest place I have ever been was in India, at a Parsi temple, in fact, where the dead are left for the birds to eat.”
“How very interesting. And why do they do that?”
“I don’t rightly know, but I believe it may have something to do with the cycle of life.”
They were quiet for the next several minutes as Verlyn maneuvered his curricle through traffic. Then Althea said, “I should like to travel abroad. We had thought to travel, Arthur and I, but then his health took a turn for the worse, and it was not to be.”
“Perhaps when Napoleon is finally routed, you may get your wish.”
Althea sighed. “Yes, I can only hope. Although travel is not quite so easy for a woman alone.”
Verlyn gave her a sidelong glance and said with a smile in his voice, “Quite ineligible. Then again, I can tell that you are a woman who does not hold much with convention.”
“Have I not comported myself with propriety?”
“No breath of scandal has reached me, but I have been absent from society more than I have partaken of it.”
“Hardly a ringing endorsement.”
He laughed. “You do not need my endorsement, madam. My brother’s seal of approval is more than enough.”
Upon reaching Hyde Park, they entered into a jovial conversation about travel again, interspersed at random with greetings and side conversations with the other grandees parading themselves along the Serpentine. Althea had never spent such a delightful afternoon. Verlyn’s easy manners charmed her, and his sharp intellect, displayed in any number of observations about foreign peoples and places, drew her in. It is a good thing I have a hard head, she thought to herself, or I should be in love with him already.
As they slowly proceeded back through the park in the direction they had come, they passed the section of the park where she had strolled with Cousin John. When her attention was caught by a flock of ravens circling above a copse of trees a little beyond the walking path, she had half a mind to ask Verlyn to stop the carriage and walk.
Then Verlyn urged his horses forward and made some remark about Poodle Byng. Byng’s carriage was just ahead of them, and he had an exquisitely groomed dog perched up beside him where a passenger would normally sit. Althea noted that poodles were considered one of the most intelligent breeds. A discussion of dog breeding ensued, and the opportunity to investigate the ravens was lost. But Althea, studying Verlyn’s handsome profile, had some hope that it might be repeated soon.
When they reached Levanwood House, Verlyn said, “I hope we shall meet again soon. Are you attending Lady Shirling’s masquerade?”
“Yes, I am. And you?”
He nodded. “But I shan’t tell you what my costume is to be, for what fun would it be to know before the unmasking at midnight?”
“I guarantee that you shall never guess mine,” Althea replied.
His eyes lit up with amusement. “A challenge, but then you are a lady of your word, so we shall see.”
It was only after he had seen her safely inside and she was dreamily untying the ribbons of her bonnet that the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning. A lady of her word! That was the phrase the Richmond Thief had used. It was Lord George Verlyn! Oh, the travel now made sense. He would be able to slip in and out of England, and no one would ever suspect. Then again, what did the son of a duke need with money? She had never heard that he was spendthrift, and the Norwich family was known to be rich beyond comprehension, but perhaps the ton had been duped?
Althea hurried to her bedchamber and resolutely shut the door, certain of at least a half an hour of repose before she would call Bridgett to
dress her. She sat down heavily on the bed, a thousand thoughts jostling together in her brain. She touched her lips with a gloved hand. And he had been watching her, waiting for just the moment to steal a kiss. But he was more than a thief of love. He was the thief of family treasures, a man who brought misery to all of his victims. That thought depressed her more than she could possibly say.
Jane opened the door. “Finally, you’re back,” she said, and noticing Althea’s expression, “What’s happened?”
Althea stood up. She removed her gloves and tossed them on the bed. “Nothing to worry about, dear, I have just been thinking about my monograph. I don’t know that it will be enough yet for the Royal Society.”
Jane looked at her sharply. “That is not what you were thinking about. Did Lord George do something to upset you?”
“Quite the opposite. Unlike his brother, he is a very charming man. Don’t fret, Jane. I will tell you some time or other. But what is it you wished to speak to me about?”
“I wanted to seek your advice. My costume arrived this afternoon, and despite all that trouble, I’m not sure it really suits me.”
“A handmaiden to Good Queen Bess not suit you? How could that be? Let me see what wonders Madame Longet hath wrought.”
She followed Jane, determined to show appropriate interest, but her mind was still at sea. Lord George Verlyn was the thief! How would she ever disclose such a truth to his brother? She must act as if nothing had happened when she met Norwich on the morrow, and every day after that until she could find a way to tell him properly.
The following afternoon, Norwich arrived promptly at five o’clock. As he handed Althea up into the carriage, she thanked him for his gallantry.
He replied, “It is nothing. One could see from your face how little you welcomed that fellow’s invitation. Can’t say as I blame you.”
Althea sighed. “It was his manner of assuming my acquiescence without asking that set my back up.”
Norwich seated himself beside her and took the reins. “And my manner of doing the same produced the opposite effect?”
“Your motive was different. But I shall have to ride with him soon because he haunts the house, and I’ve quite run out of excuses to be away when he calls.”
“You saw much of each other in Somerset, I understand.”
“Our neighborhood is not large, so we could not avoid the connection. But he is a good person in his way. His father was much loved. Unfortunately, the father’s early death allowed the son to ascend to his rights too soon.”
“And you have no desire to become Mrs. Pettigrew,” Norwich added matter-of-factly.
“I have no desire to become Mrs. Anyone.”
“Ah yes, the bereavement.”
Althea looked at him. “I do not fake my grief, sir.”
“No, but I think you find it useful.”
Althea was about to retort, but then nodded, acknowledging the hit. “Sometimes.”
They lapsed into silence and did not speak again until they had reached the park. Norwich said in a low voice, “Mr. Read wants us to try again.”
“Again?” And remembering the thief’s comment about the Trent family, “I don’t think my husband could ever have given me so many jewels. It is not to be believed. And I have quite forgotten to bring the pastes with me this time, so you will have to wait for their return until we meet again.”
“Keep them. They suit you. Besides, who would believe they were really yours if you never wear them again? No, this does not involve your jewels, but rather Lady Cartwright’s.”
Althea looked at him blankly.
“She is that redheaded woman who always wears those enormous feathered turbans.”
Althea nodded in recognition. “It’s a wonder she can hold her head up at all.”
“She must have a strong neck,” he agreed with a faint smile. “But that is beside the point. I have it on good authority that she means to attend the Shirling masquerade dressed as the Queen of Sheba, and for that purpose has had that shocking collar of sapphires remade into a crown.”
“Mr. Read thinks that the Richmond Thief would steal a crown off the lady’s head? No, it is too risky.”
“Be that as it may, he wants us to keep an eye on her.”
“That should be no small task in a crowded ballroom.”
“With two persons, the task should be half as difficult. Now what shall you be dressed as so that I may know you?”
“This is too bad! I had hoped to be a lady of mystery.” And then after a moment she added, “But you certainly shall guess it soon enough.”
“Why?”
“Of all subjects, it is the most distasteful to you.”
“To me?”
“An insect, my dear sir, an insect.”
“You jest,” and then he caught sight of her wrathful look, “but I’m sure it will be delightful. I will be dressed as the devil.”
Althea’s brows shot up. “Well, you may call me rude, but I think the devil suits you.”
“Only when I’m with you, Althea.”
The press of carriages and salutations prevented further speech for the next quarter of an hour, and when they were at last left alone, Althea said, “It is a good thing that you have offered to take me for a drive today. Although I have taken some pains to be seen riding with others, I wouldn’t want the world to think you had entirely given me up.”
“I had noticed,” he replied.
“Had you? I suppose all of London must notice my movements now that you have brought me to the heights of the ton.” She smiled. “How Arthur would have laughed and laughed to see me in such a state! He had a great good humor, and he delighted in the ridiculous above all things.”
“I don’t see that a pretty woman being courted is much fodder for ridicule.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but I know that I am not out of the common way. And my connections are not what one would call particularly noble. No, sir, my success, such as it is, must be entirely laid at your feet.”
Norwich did not immediately reply, and Althea thought that her sportive manner may have offended him. She stole a quick glance, but his face remained impassive and inscrutable. Then she noticed a movement beyond him. The flock of ravens swooped and circled over the section of the park where Althea had walked with Cousin John. Two days in a row?
“I wonder what?” she said to herself. Then, looking at Norwich, she decided to brave his disapproval. Their relationship would be of short duration anyway. “Would you mind very much to walk with me? I find I miss the healthful exercise of country life.”
He had seemed lost in thought, but her request brought him back and he replied, “Of course. Let us make our way over to the walking path.” He indicated the very spot she had desired to go.
Unfortunately, the press of acquaintances and the slow movement of the carriages prevented swift action, and it was half an hour later when they finally descended. Norwich handed Althea her parasol, saying, “It is a good thing to walk. I have often told my sister, Lady Bertlesmon, that a brisk walk would do more to aid her health than lying about on the couch fancying herself ill.”
“I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of seeing your sister in London. Does she not come for the season?”
“Some years. At the moment she is in Bath with my mother and Bertlesmon, attempting to recover from a supposed congestion of the lungs.”
“My father was a great believer in the value of steam for such conditions, so perhaps the hot baths shall improve her health.”
“What she needs is a husband who doesn’t coddle her like a petulant child,” he replied.
“You do not feel a husband should bow to the desires of his wife? I think we have previously established that I was in such a marriage. I can tell you that the arrangement works admirably well.”
“I shall have to take your word for that. Your father was quite a well-regarded physician, I have come to understand.”
“My father was a very
great man, and his death was a loss to many people.”
“Undoubtedly.” Norwich looked at her speculatively. “I think especially to you. Am I right in thinking he gave you most of your education?”
“But for him, I would have had none.”
“None?”
“My mother died soon after my birth, and I had no governess.”
“That is most remarkable. When did he find the time?”
“Every day there was some new knowledge to impart, some moment for instruction. And I am an avid reader, so his library provided what he could not supply. Besides, by the time I reached ten years of age, my duties as his assistant provided an infinite opportunity for learning of the most valuable kind.” She paused and looked at Norwich to see if that disclosure had shocked him. He certainly stared at her with a fixed intensity.
Then he smiled. “If you could have traded with my poor sister for a day, what a change that might have wrought.”
Althea smiled in return, strangely relieved. “I was certainly not idle. Papa would never have permitted it.”
They walked on in silence, Althea silently guiding him out of the prying eyes of the multitude and toward the solitude of the copse of trees. She looked up several times to measure the pattern of the ravens’ flight. Then, seeing several swoop down into the brush around the trees not two yards from the walking path, she shut her parasol with a snap, looped it over her arm, picked up her skirts, and charged into the brush.
Norwich stood stunned for several seconds and then came after her. “Althea, my God, what are you about?”
“Science,” she called back over her shoulder.
“What?” He caught up with her and tried to grab her arm.
She twitched away. “I have to know what is drawing such a large flock of birds. Ten to one it is a dog or some other poor creature—” And then she stopped and poked the point of her parasol at a small object in front of her. The raven that had been perched on top of it cawed loudly and flew upward with a flap of black wings. “Oh my goodness.”
“What?” Norwich leaned over her shoulder.
Slowly, very slowly, Althea bent down and used her parasol point to turn over the object—a hand, gnawed upon and held together by ragged strings of dry skin and sinew. The smell of death wafted up, poisoning the air around them. A cloud of flies emerged from the bracken and hovered over the hand possessively.