His Lordship's Last Wager

by Miranda Davis

The duke stormed to the library overlooking the back garden. He threw up a window sash and stuck out his head to sniff.

  The wind came from the wrong quarter.

  He squinted to scrutinize the greenery.

  Nothing out of place.

  Situated on a corner, his townhouse occupied a double lot, with a large back garden well laid out and densely planted. He craned his neck farther to examine the ice house tucked by the back wall. Nothing untoward. The potting shed stood where it always had and in much the same condition. No gaping hole or dirt piles indicated a freshly-dug den either.

  Or did bears do that in the autumn?

  Satisfied his premises were bear-free, he slammed the window closed.

  He turned a blind eye when Jane nursed stray dogs or lost sheep surreptitiously in his potting shed. No harm in that, according to Gert. Jane loved animals. But a bear? Not bloody likely. Even Jane wasn’t as madcap as that.

  Just to be sure, he directed a footman to fetch Myrick to his study.

  If there was a bear in his garden, he would kill it and throttle his sister and have each stuffed and mounted.

  “Better yet, I’ll feed her to the bear, then have it stuffed and mounted. Save me the expense of a second stuffing,” he muttered to himself. “No one would blame me—certainly not a jury of my peers. The upper house would give me a standing ovation and full pardon.”

  After her spouse met with Myrick in his study, the Duchess of Bath listened with characteristic calm to his agitated orders not to take little Caro into the back garden or go there for any reason. No one but Jane was to go into the garden until further notice.

  “Why not?”

  “Can’t you simply obey, Gert? Promised to when you married me or have you forgotten that vow?” He paced the room. “It’s for your own good. I’m not funning you.”

  “George, you are ever my liege lord. Still, I wish to know why. I promise not to collapse with vapors.”

  “Ha! You might. Jane’s done it this time.”

  “Rescued another stray? Well, what of it? If it makes her happy, where’s the harm in looking the other way?”

  Annoyed by his wife’s bemused tone, he blurted out, “Not a dog. Not domestic livestock. This time, it’s a bear.”

  His wife blanched, which gave his grace perverse satisfaction. Yet, she remained unruffled, which confounded him.

  “Is that so?” was all she said.

  “Yes, blast her, Jane has a bear in the infernal potting shed, or so Myrick admitted to me just now. Saw it himself,” George said, circumnavigating the room. “Rostand wants it. I’m tempted to let him have it. This is the last straw, I’ll not look the other way this time. Don’t ask me to, Gert. I let her have her dogs and whatnot, and look what she’s done with my tolerance! She and the bear go to a menagerie where, for all I care, they may share a cage.”

  “Why do you suppose Rostand wants it?” her grace asked.

  “Carriage rug? Caps for the King’s Guard? Don’t know, don’t care. Won’t have it in my garden.”

  “Yes, but why does she have it?”

  “Simple, my sister is,” his grace enunciated each syllable, “de-men-ted.”

  “George, we must ask her.”

  “Ask her?” The duke stared at his duchess. “This is a bear, Gert.” He swelled his chest, swiped claw-like hands at her, and bared his teeth, “Ggggrrrrrr.”

  “Call for Jane, love, before you do anything rash.”

  The duke strode to the bell cord, yanked it, and paced until the butler appeared.

  “Wymark, fetch Lady Jane to me.”

  * * *

  As soon as Jane entered her brother’s wood-paneled study, George roared at her and Gert translated: “My dear, we’ve heard something absurd about a bear.”

  Jane’s cheeks grew hot.

  “Oh my,” Gert said.

  “It is,” she said, “a tamed performing bear. And well trained.”

  To which, George choked, “As if that makes any difference.”

  She tried to explain Rostand’s heinous plans to George but he refused to listen. She turned to Gert. Her grace agreed that the earl’s intentions were wicked and abominable.

  George loudly predicted the onset of an apoplectic fit.

  “But before I succumb,” he told his wife, “have a son and make my witless sister remove her creature by week’s end, no excuses.”

  He flopped down on the sofa beside his wife.

  “I have things well in hand, George. Richard Martin has offered the bear sanctuary on his estate. I’ve already made arrangements for its removal there and Lord Seelye has agreed to help me.”

  “More fool he,” George said to his wife.

  “I just need a little more time.”

  Gert was satisfied the bear was securely housed and the issue was resolved. George, not quite. After banishing Jane to anywhere out of his sight, he sent for Wymark.

  Word came down from above stairs that his grace strictly forbade household staff to use the rear door or to walk through the back garden to the ice house. They would do without ice. Everyone was to enter and leave via the below-ground kitchen entrance, the stairway of which let out to the front pavement. Servants, nanny, provisioners, tradesmen, mantua-makers, and farriers would transact their business by that route or in the stable yard going to the mews by way of the alley. No exceptions.

  This caused talk below stairs. Servants and all manner of trades traipsing back and forth in front of the residence flew in the face of all proper feeling, but the duke’s mystified staff did as they were told.

  Despite lively speculation about their venerable employer’s latest odd start, Wymark and Myrick deemed it unwise to mention Lady Jane’s bear.

  Chapter 22

  In which plans are afoot.

  “A stage coach? Where am I supposed to come up with an old stage coach?”

  The problem of transporting Bibendum seemed insoluble to Seelye.

  He and Percy lounged down Bond Street together, walking sticks swinging lazily, to discuss logistics ursine. They passed several gentleman from the club also on the strut and acknowledged them. A nod was sufficient when ladies weren’t present.

  “I’ll manage it—Whitehall connections, you know,” Percy said and displayed his Cheshire-cat grin. “You’ll need a second carriage for your rabid pet.”

  “Bibendum is not rabid,” Seelye said.

  “I refer to the other.”

  “She is not coming, you are.”

  Percy went on, “Two vehicles should accommodate you and your pets, two legged and distempered as well as four pawed and tame. That is, if you’re still going to make the attempt.”

  “Astley won’t have him. Can’t put him down, I gave her my word.” Seelye lowered his voice to prevent eavesdropping, “She wouldn’t dare suggest coming along.”

  “I merely point out that you can’t cover any distance in a slow-moving wagon. A stage coach is faster and built to hold the weight of passengers. If you’re on your own, you’ll ride on the box with the driver,” Percy said. “I’ll have the axles reinforced in any case. And the inside seats removed. Don’t worry, my fretful friend. It’ll work.”

  Percy patted him on the back with such complacence, Seelye was tempted to twist his friend’s arm off and strike him with his own dead hand.

  “I’m glad one of us is enjoying himself.”

  “If you find it smells of bear for some inexplicable reason,” Percy added, “give it a good scrub before you return it, will you? There’s a good fellow. By the by, your beaver still smells of liniment.”

  “You’ll get used to it eventually. I have,” he said. “I’m counting on you to help me deliver the parcel, Percy.” He glanced around. “The parcel can be a handful when feeling affectionate.” He absent-mindedly fingered a spit-stiff spot on his coat lapel.

  “Seems to like you,” Percy said.

  “And my clothes will never be the same.”

  “Tolerated me well enough when we met
. If you’re on your own, I might as well come along for the fun.”

  “Thank God you’re a glutton for punishment,” Seelye said.

  “I cannot resist a challenge and this one beats all,” Percy added, landing another enthusiastic clap on his shoulder. “Just like old times.”

  * * *

  It so happened, George agreed to take Gert, Caro, and her nanny for a pleasure cruise to Greenwich on the River Thames the day after learning about the bear in the back garden. Gert urged this expedition to put distance between themselves and Jane’s latest endeavor and to keep George from throttling his sister.

  In the morning, Jane had notes hand-delivered immediately, one to Seelye, forged in George’s hand, the other to Iphigenia in her own. Both requested a call on her to discuss Bibendum’s removal.

  Lady Iphigenia was so anxious to meet Bibendum, she anticipated the hour and nearly bumped into the family leaving. The bustle of servants, child, and parents provided more than enough distraction for her to slip around the corner unseen. After they left, she plied the knocker.

  Jane took her into the back garden, where they found two gentlemen waiting at the mews gate.

  “Lady Jane, I believe you know Mr. George Percy,” Seelye said formally.

  Percy bowed to the ladies.

  “Good day,” Jane said with a nod. “Gentlemen, this is my dear friend, Lady Iphigenia Thornton.”

  The men bowed to her.

  “Smells like wet dog,” Iphigenia said.

  “I noticed it, too.” Percy said, sniffing the air. He smiled past Iphigenia, taking little more notice of her or her comment. “As I told Lord Seelye, I can have a stage coach re-fitted and reinforced—”

  “You don’t mean to try hauling a bear in a coach, do you?” Iphigenia giggled.

  Seelye and Percy turned on her. Iphigenia shrank behind Jane.

  “How do you propose I transport the bear?” Seelye asked the ladies.

  “Perhaps a coach isn’t most convenient,” Jane said, choosing her words carefully. Without looking, she tugged her friend out from behind her back and linked arms to keep her by her side. “I did think to claim the second-best travel carriage and a pair of George’s horses for myself but for the bear—”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Seelye said. “I’ll not have kidnapping and grand larceny added to the other charges I’ll face. You stay in town and be nice to men who haven’t heard of you.”

  “It’s not abduction if I go of my own free will. And I shall borrow the carriage, not you.”

  “If we’re caught, you’d be found incompetent, Jane,” he explained with insulting condescension, “because you’re certifiable. I, on the other hand, will be hung as a kidnapping thief because your brother will want me dead for letting you come along.”

  “Bibendum is my responsibility, Seelye. This is my project. I’d no notion you were such a spoilsport.”

  “If you consider being mauled by an animal or assaulted by pirates ‘sport,’ I did think to spoil it. But keep arguing, I may come around.”

  Jane shook her head. “I thought you had bottom, sir.”

  “My courage is not at issue,” Seelye replied. “Your reason is.”

  “May we return to the question of transportation?” Percy asked.

  “Actually, Mr. Percy, I’ve had a crate made of wood with iron reinforcements,” Jane said, smiling at Iphigenia. “My friend suggested it.”

  “Did she?” For the first time, Percy turned his unsettling golden gaze on her.

  “Tell them what you told me, Phidge,” Jane prompted.

  “I once saw wild animals transported on the river to the Royal menagerie,” Iphigenia said softly. “Men transferred a crated lion from a barge to a flat cart with no danger to themselves or the lion.”

  “Hmmm,” Percy said, scrutinizing Jane’s shy friend. “We can load a box onto any sturdy dray with men or block and tackle. That’s clever, my lady.”

  Iphigenia dipped her chin slightly to acknowledge his praise. Her black bonnet ’s brim hid all but her smile, yet Jane rejoiced to see it.

  * * *

  “We can’t take a dray to Bristol by toll roads,” Seelye told his distracted friend. “Too slow. And how could we travel unnoticed? A bear, even in a box, will cause a fuss. No telling what the Hellfire Club may try to do to make mischief.”

  “True.” Percy tilted his head up to think. “Mustn’t cause a fuss or draw attention to ourselves.”

  “Tell them, Phidge,” Jane coaxed.

  “Tell us what?” Percy asked and focused on Iphigenia.

  “The Kennet and Avon C-Canal,” she said. “You could take the bear by barge up the Thames to Reading and on to Bristol by narrow boat.”

  “The crate I commissioned is sized for a narrow boat,” Jane added, “thanks to my brilliant friend’s foresight.”

  Percy turned to Seelye for his opinion.

  “Narrow boats haul tons of coal, half a ton of bear would be no difficulty,” Seelye thought aloud. “How do we lay hands on a boat?”

  “Leave it to me, I know a fellow,” Percy said and turned his riveting gaze back to Jane’s friend. “You’ve solved a knotty problem with a solution more elegant than mine. My compliments, Lady Iphigenia.”

  The way Percy caressed each syllable of her name made the lady blush. Seelye was having none of his balderdash.

  “And your fellow will provide us a boat captain, I presume,” he said.

  Only half-attending, Percy replied, “I know Dundas, Seelye. I don’t doubt the canal company’s chairman will recommend an experienced skipper.”

  “Is there anyone you don’t know?” Seelye exclaimed.

  “I was not acquainted with Lady Iphigenia,” Percy replied and left the lady in confusion.

  Seelye cut short the flirtation, “How soon can you arrange it?”

  “Soon, my friend, never fear,” Percy said.

  “Then I must get ready immediately. I’ll pay the cost of his transportation and our expenses—” Jane said. The excitement made her speak in a rush.

  “You are not coming,” Seelye said.

  “He’s my bear, this is my plan,” she said. “I can train him to do what we need.”

  “Such as?”

  “Get into the crate. Come out when called. Such as not bite your head off when you’re provoking. You cannot keep him locked in a crate for days on end. He’ll need exercise,” she told the men.

  “I’ve walked him, not you. Besides, I can’t manage a boat or locks without Percy. So, he comes and you stay,” Seelye repeated. “Your being in my company unchaperoned may be unremarkable, but if anyone caught wind of you, me, and Percy plying an industrial canal together, there’d be a scandal to end all scandals. The worst cats would assume a—”

  “A what?” Jane asked.

  “Never you mind,” Seelye said and felt his face heat. “The point is, he and I would be notorious, but you’d be ruined beyond redemption. I won’t be a party to that.”

  “Every skipper has a crew, I believe,” Iphigenia put in uninvited. “Hire the lot.”

  “There’ll be no room for trunks or a lady’s maid,” Seelye said, ignoring Iphigenia.

  “I’ll forego them,” Jane said.

  “Hire a skipper and crew as the lady suggests,” Percy said, offering Iphigenia a reassuring smile. “If Jane must go, I’ll serve as quartermaster to assure your supply line from land, that sort of thing. I’ll meet you at stop-overs we arrange to see that you have what you need.”

  “No, Percy, she stays.” Seelye waited for Jane to argue.

  She didn’t and he considered the matter settled.

  Shortly after this meeting, Seelye received an urgent summons to Greyfriars Abbey. Never much of a correspondent, the duke’s entire letter read: ‘Come at once. Ainsworth.’

  What to do? Rush off to his friend whose wife was about to give birth and leave Jane at the mercy of her bear? Or delay only long enough to find a real shot gun, kill the bear to guarantee Jane’s
safety and break his promise to her?

  Blasted moral quandaries, he never felt up to solving these predicaments. Whatever he chose to do, he always despised himself for not having done differently.

  He called on Jane to take his leave. And feeling guilty about deserting her, his leave-taking was brusque. His news shocked her, yet she surprised him more.

  “You must ride for Greyfriars without delay.”

  Instead of leaving, he lingered to explain, “If I go, Jane, it postpones Bibendum’s departure until the duchess is safely delivered of her child.”

  “Your friend needs you. I understand.”

  “But I worry what a delay might mean for you here. Will you be safe?”

  “Pooh! It’s providential from my point of view,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll use the time to accustom Bibendum to his crate. Go to the duke and duchess with my prayers for a happy outcome.” Then as if squeezing his heart, she clasped his hand and said, “We will be fine, Seelye. Please, don’t worry.”

  He left Jane feeling something unfamiliar: unburdened. There was also a warmth, which he deemed nothing but proper appreciation of her intrepid spirit.

  Thanks to her, he hastened to Greyfriars Abbey untroubled by self-reproach.

  * * *

  Days passed with no word from Seelye.

  Jane had sent him on his way careful to disguise her own anxiety over the postponement.

  Every morning without fail, George demanded to know if his garden was his own again. And she had no satisfactory answer. After several days, her stalling had worn his patience tissue thin. Add to that, an unease she sensed among the household staff, and she prayed each night for Seelye’s return. Something must happen soon, or her brother would take matters into his own hands.

  While she waited, she redoubled her efforts to acclimate Bibendum to the crate by the ice house. With Myrick’s help, she ordered straw and moss to make a soft pallet inside. Next, she lured the bear in and let him leave as soon as he wished. Gradually, she extended his stays with meaty or fishy rewards.

  The bear came to consider the iron-reinforced box his country residence and went willingly from potting shed to crate whenever Jane proposed a change of address. Bibendum also let her close him inside and bolt the door without so much as a moan of protest. He cooperated fully and seemed to enjoy the game.