A Grand Deception

by Shirley Marks

  "No father could ask for a better prospect than you," said the Duke. "Now, if you can only persuade the young lady to accept. I cannot predict how onerous a task that will be"

  "Does he mean you?" Freddie's outburst could have given them away, and Muriel shushed him again.

  "I will be the first to wish you happy." The Duke leaned toward Sir Samuel and said in a softer voice, "Good luck to you, Samuel, eh?"

  "Thank you, Your Grace." Sir Samuel stepped away, moving toward the marbled foyer, in Muriel and Freddie's direction. "I am to accompany her to the Park soon. I certainly hope I will manage to approach the subject with some sort of poise. I must confess, I feel as if I'll make a muddle of the whole thing."

  "I'm sure you'll manage just fine," the Duke replied. "There isn't a gentleman alive who feels confident in such matters"

  Muriel stepped back, urging her brother to retreat around the corner. She led him through the parlor, then up the staircase to her bedchamber to make certain their conversation would not be overheard.

  "That cannot mean Sir Samuel is about to propose, can it?" Muriel could not imagine how this had come about. How had his commonplace regard for her taken a warmer turn?

  "He dashed well is about to offer for someone. When Father is that jubilant about Sir Samuel coming up to scratch, whom do you think it could be?" Freddie carried on in an animated fashion. "Common sense tells me it might be you"

  "Since when do you have any sense? Samuel has no intention of making me an offer." Muriel strode past her dressing table to her bookcase. "No. No. It cannot be true."

  Sir Samuel had no notion of Muriel's affection for Sherwin. How could he? She had only recently come to the realization herself. In the past she had relied on Sir Samuel to aid her. Had he understood her trust in him as romantic interest?

  "But why?" She uttered the words on a sigh to herself. "How should he ever think to offer for me? No, I simply cannot believe it."

  "Has Sir Samuel hinted at his affection?" Freddie paced to the end of the room.

  "No, never." Muriel no longer felt comfortable asking Sir Samuel for help locating Sherwin.

  She drew Tragedies of Sophocles from the bookcase and allowed it to fall open, revealing the iron key and folded map Sir Samuel had given her. Muriel wondered if she had misinterpreted his intentions. She hadn't thought so, but it seemed she might have been wrong.

  "So this is where you are hiding!" Sir Samuel appeared at the doorway of Muriel's bedchamber. "I beg your pardon, but His Grace instructed me to locate you, Brent"

  "Right. Sorry to keep you waiting, of man." Freddie moved to exit but turned back to address his sister. "You ready to join us, Moo?"

  Muriel glanced from the open book and its contents before closing the tome and pushing it back into its place in the bookcase. If asking Sir Samuel to help her attend her private lessons had resulted in a marriage proposal, she could not imagine what asking him to help locate Sherwin would bring.

  He'd been in the coach for hours on end. Sherwin endured the discomforts of the hard seats and cramped interior. The experience was made worse by Mr. Goodwin's uncanny ability to slumber in this most uncomfortable circumstance. His head rested upon Sherwin's shoulder, lolling about, and Mr. Franks, on the right, pinned his arm to his side. The snores and coughing of Sally, the child, and her guardian, Miss Phelps, added a feminine aspect to the interior quartet. The blare of the horn before every stop and, it seemed, at every intersection was the highlight of the journey.

  He hadn't expected that the pocket watch he'd traded in exchange for his passage might have been of any help to tell him how many hours had passed. There'd been many stops, most where the passengers barely had time to stretch their legs, and once they'd been supplied with a bite to eat before returning to the confines of the coach.

  The vehicle listed and rattled to a stop again. They were about to disembark for another change of horses. The door swung open, and the driver called out, "End o' the lineLunnun."

  After everyone had exited, Sherwin moved forward in his seat, readying himself to disembark. End of the line? This was it: they had arrived in London!

  Never had he experienced so treacherous a journey in a wheeled vehicle. Was it his imagination, or had this last leg been more gravity-defying than the earlier parts of the trip? At times he felt as if they'd gone airborne.

  He gripped the side of the coach and stepped outside. Sherwin peered around at his surroundings. This was Lon don? It was not any part of the city he recognized. "Where, exactly, are we?"

  "Town's right there, ya see, yonder." The man stabbed his large finger to the left, down the road.

  Had Sherwin expected they'd deliver him to the doorstep of Lloyd Place? Perhaps if they had stopped at the gates of Hyde Park ... that was a place he recognized ... only one of very few. "How am Ito get to . . ." He stared at the driver.

  "Don't rightly know, gov. S'pose you can hire yourself a hack." He slammed the door closed. Then he clarified, "A hackney cab. Just down the way there." The man pointed somewhere behind Sherwin.

  "A hackney?" he repeated. It had cost him his gold watch to get this far. Sherwin didn't know what he had left that was worth trading. His hand stole over his waistcoat pocket.

  If he could engage a hackney cab, where would he go? He wanted to rush to Muriel at Worth House, except he could not be presented in his current disheveled state.

  He knew barely a soul in Town-a handful of casual social acquaintances, no one he could turn to for help. Then it came to him-a man who had always, without question, lent him support: Signore Biondi.

  With his destination set, Sherwin gazed across the road. There, several coaches stood idle, ones, he thought, meant for hire. How to do so without money was another matter, but he did not despair. He had made it this far on his wits and his pocket watch, he would manage to see himself the rest of the way to Town.

  He put himself in mind that he was an earl and would try to conduct himself in a noble manner. Most of all he imagined the Earl of Brent and exactly how he would behave in a situation such as this.

  "Excuse me, my man," he addressed an idle, beefy chap sitting upon the box of his rig. "By any chance are you-"

  "Off wiff ye, ya toff!" the man rumbled back without the benefit of hearing Sherwin's request, shaking a beefy fist at him. "Yer a beggar, that be certain. I'll have none of ya."

  Sherwin staggered back, fairly fearing for his life. This was badly done of him. How would he manage to-

  "'Ere, look, gov. Yer going about it the wrong way," the driver called out to him, waving Sherwin back in his direction.

  Sherwin returned to the mail driver, who met him halfway. "Did you not say I could hire a hack-" He pointed in the same direction the driver had previously.

  "Lookie, here. I can sees yer havin' a bit o' difficulty." The driver winked and pulled on Sherwin's sleeve. Only hard enough to urge him in the opposite direction. "Allow me to be of assistance. You come wiff me, now, lad."

  "I would sincerely appreciate that, sir." Sherwin nodded, following along amicably.

  "I can sees ye've gots yourselfs in a bit of a bind, and I don't wants to sees ya dig yerself in any deeper. I can sees yer a good lad at heart."

  "Why, thank you, sir." Sherwin continued, "I am having some difficulty at the moment, and it would be kind of you to lend me a hand. I assure you, it will not be forgotten."

  "Then just remember my name. Georgie. 01' Georgie Hope."

  "Really?" Sherwin could hardly believe his luck. "I shall remember you, Mr. Hope, and I assure you, when my circumstances are ... better, I shall."

  "Oh, aye, ye do that, lad." Mr. Hope chuckled as if he would grow older and grayer before he'd ever see his kindness returned.

  They walked about halfway down the block, bypassing a good several vehicles standing idle. Sherwin's surrounds appeared mostly gray. The buildings did not appear as ornate, and the streets were not as clean as the London to which he'd recently become accustomed.

&nbs
p; "Look alive, Danny!" The driver called out. "This 'ere's my pal, Mr. Turner.

  "I think the two of you gentlemen can work out the rest by yourselves, eh?" The driver winked at Sherwin again and gave him a resounding clap on the back.

  "Th-thank you, Mr. Hope." Sherwin vowed he would remember the driver who had helped him on the next step to finding Muriel. He looked to the man sitting on the box. "I need a ride to Number 4 Tavistock Road."

  Mr. Turner wore a dark, ratty coat and tilted his head. "It'll cost you, gov," he said in a voice that sounded as rough as the ride Sherwin had just survived.

  "I have no money." He said it right up front. Sherwin would not be humiliated as he had been at the Dog and Whistle at his inability to pay his way.

  "Well, let's see . . ." Mr. Turner scratched his whiskerstubbled jaw and eyed Sherwin. "Seein' ye've been highly recommended, so to speak, I s'pose we can makes ourselves some sort of deal, wot?"

  "I find that agreeable, sir." Sherwin didn't have any other choice. He had no doubt Freddie, the Earl of Brent, could forge a deal on a promise and a handsome smile.

  "That's a nice jacket I sees." Mr. Turner motioned for Sherwin to turn about and display his garment. "Wouldn't be work of Weston, would it?"

  "Why, yes, it is." If handing over his jacket would be enough to see him safely to Signore Biondi's, then so be it. It appeared that he and the driver understood each other quite well. "If you would be so good as to lend me a hand, kind sir?" He would need Mr. Turner's help to strip the garment off his back. Sherwin began to undo his brass buttons to rid himself of his new jacket and pay his passage.

  Muriel sat next to Susan, across from Sir Samuel, on the drive to Hyde Park in the open-air coach. Never had she felt so nervous in his company. He didn't exactly appear the study of tranquility himself. Muriel exchanged a few quick glances with Freddie, who sat to Sir Samuel's left, knowing he was privy to the goings-on in their father's library a scant hour ago. Did her brother notice the addled manner of their male companion?

  Susan seemed the only serene one of the four, gazing at the passing scenery. She wore a lemon yellow and white dress and a Capucine-colored Spencer that matched her new bonnet, the one that Muriel had borrowed the other day.

  They rounded the corner, passing through the gates of Hyde Park, joining the long string of carriages.

  "What say we pull over and take a stroll?" Freddie suggested.

  "I suppose that would be all right." Susan turned to the left. "Moo? Sir Samuel?"

  "Why not?" Muriel replied without really caring. As long as she wasn't left alone with Sir Samuel. She felt horrible that she had such thoughts about her friend.

  "Sounds splendid!" Sir Samuel exclaimed, rather a bit too brightly.

  The carriage pulled out of the queue, coming to a halt just to the side. Freddie disembarked first, followed by Sir Samuel. It seemed to Muriel that the gentlemen took an extraordinarily long amount of time dawdling and glancing about before turning back to the coach. Freddie took hold of Mu riel's, then Susan's, hands, helping the ladies step to the ground.

  "Lady Muriel." Sir Samuel did not waste a second and offered his arm to escort her.

  "Thank you, Sir Samuel." What else could she say? A part of her felt hesitant about walking alone with him, even though her brother and her friend were only a few feet behind them.

  "Miss Wilbanks"-Freddie then followed by example"I would be honored."

  Off to the left, the string of carriages out for a drive stretched far beyond where Muriel could see. She and Sir Samuel bid oncoming pairs of strollers a good day with slow nods of their heads while they passed.

  Sir Samuel seemed to fidget so. He stretched the fingers of both hands and repeatedly tugged at his gloves in such a manner that Muriel thought he should quite ruin them. He repeatedly cleared his throat, as if he was about to say something, but he remained silent.

  Never had Muriel been so grateful for her bonnet. If she kept facing straight ahead, she would not meet Sir Samuel's gaze. So keen was her discomfort, she thought he must have sensed it through her gloved hand resting upon his.

  The mood between them felt very odd, whereas before they had had no difficulty when they spoke, and conversation came without effort. It seemed now neither of them had anything to say, and the silence stretched on.

  How unfortunate this was. Muriel had always held Sir Samuel in the highest regard. Why, oh why, did he harbor more affection for her than she for him? It ruined all manner of ease between them.

  "I had meant to ask you about your impression of my cousin." Muriel wondered, if only just slightly, how far Constance had proceeded with her plan of snaring Sir Samuel. And could he have any knowledge of it?

  "Miss Kimball?" There was an unmistakable lightening of his tone at the mention of her name, if only slight. "Oh, yes. We have had several conversations. I find her very agreeable, and there is more than a passing resemblance between the two of you. Your mothers were sisters, were they not?"

  "Yes, that's correct." Muriel wasn't sure if his reply was a compliment or not.

  "Both celebrated beauties in their day, I hear. Lady Kimball is still a handsome woman, as is Mrs. Parker." Sir Samuel seemed to consider his words. "I do wish I had met your mother. They say she was the most beautiful of the three."

  "Have you not seen her portrait at Faraday Hall?"

  "Yes, but your sisters tell me it does not do Her Grace justice."

  Muriel could not say. All she had was the portrait. She barely remembered her mother at all.

  "Returning to the topic of Miss Kimball, I need to tell you that I have had the pleasure of standing up with her on more than one occasion." Sir Samuel suddenly became quite animated now that they began to converse about Constance. "She is a very fine dancer. I do not know if I have ever seen anyone more graceful upon the dance floor, and her form is-" He quickened his pace down the path, and Muriel had some difficulty keeping up with him.

  "Please, Sir Samuel-you walk too fast."

  "I beg your pardon." Slowing to their previous tempo, Sir Samuel, with some degree of agitation, continued. "I should not be discussing such matters with you. It is indelicate."

  Muriel turned her head in such a way as to observe him. His cheeks had reddened, and he took a moment to straighten, regaining his composure.

  "Suffice it to say, we rub along fairly well together, and tomorrow I have the privilege of taking her out for a drive."

  His news of courting came as a surprise to Muriel this time.

  "Even though I had not made plans for this afternoon, it happened that an outing was bespoken for me." Now his gaze met hers in the most implicating manner. "Not that I mind in the least."

  It was time for Muriel's face to flush. She had to own, she had taken liberties with their friendship. She had treated him as if he were her own kin-worse than that. She had regarded him as no more than a servant, ordering him about, sending him on any task she pleased.

  "I suppose you might well be vexed with me." Muriel thought he had every right to be.

  "Never fear. You did not compel me to dance with her"

  No, she hadn't.

  "Nor did you coerce me into any other action."

  Muriel had to stare at him again. What did he mean?

  "Miss Kimball is ... how shall I put it? ... insistent when it comes to making her mind known." The exhale from Sir Samuel seemed to relieve some pressure he appeared to be experiencing, but soon his manner grew tense once more. "I find I cannot deny her. She is, after all, family, your cousin."

  Muriel and Sir Samuel drew ahead, and they could speak in a voice not to be overheard by Susan and Freddie. It was something she had dreaded.

  "I must confide in you, Lady Muriel," Sir Samuel began.

  Oh, dear, must he? She took in a small breath, unsure if it would be possible to exhale.

  "I came to Town in the hopes I might find that certain young lady every gentleman seeks." He paused, and Sir Samuel could have been looking at her for r
eassurance, but the brim of Muriel's hat shielded her eyes. "This has come upon me quite suddenly. I had no notion of the change in my regard for this certain young lady until recently. No one was more surprised than I to discover that I possessed affection for one with whom I have had a standing acquaintance."

  This was what she had dreaded. With every phrase, Sir Samuel might be speaking of her. Muriel did not wish to let on that she knew of his newfound admiration. "Really, you have finally found her?" She had to say something. "How lucky for you! Is it a match, then? May I wish you happy?"

  "I do not expect she is aware of my feelings, although we have spent a great deal of time in each other's company, and I have come to realize how much I have grown to care for her." He cleared his throat. "I suppose since we are not acquaintances but friends, I am unsure how to proceed. I would not wish to ruin the companionship we already share...."

  "That is sound thinking, if you ask me." Muriel did not wish him to continue, and the sooner she parted company with him, the better. Even if the unpleasant alternative necessitated that she walk with her brother, whom she presently held out of favor. "I shall give this matter some thought. Would you mind walking with Susan for a bit, Sir Samuel? I'd like a word with Freddie." Muriel turned her attention behind her as she and Sir Samuel slowed, ending his conversation altogether and bringing their foursome to a halt.

  I must protest. I have hardly spent any time in your delightful company, Miss Wilbanks." Freddie tipped his hat to Susan. "I have barely had the chance to compliment you on your choice of color and have not had the opportunity to expound on the delights of your bonnet."

  "You are an incurable flirt, Freddie. And let it be known, I am quite immune to your charms." Susan waved him away and stepped closer to Sir Samuel.

  Freddie gasped as if he were wounded. "I have no ulterior motive, only admiring a lady's wardrobe. I'm sure Sir Samuel will share my opinion of your superb fashion sense."