The Captain's Daughter
Page 26
Having practically twisted his arm, he asked her to dance, to which she, with a feigned reluctance, and a comment about being tired, eventually agreed.
As the music commenced and they began to glide around the hall, actually Eskman’s dancing was a tad short of gliding, Amy began to put her scheme into action. If Eskman was looking for a rich, young, heiress she would fill the bill and find out if it were true. He had seemed to lose interest in Mattie. Was it because he found out that the family didn’t have the money he had thought they did? Amy would make herself rich, and see.
“You were asking about my locket and why the thistle. I understand it belonged to my real mother.”
“Your real mother? I thought you were the daughter of Sir Anthony and Lady Sibbridge.”
Ah thought Amy he knows my parents’ names.
“Most people think that, Lord Eskman, but the truth is I am adopted.”
“Adopted, really?”
“Yes, and I shouldn’t be telling you this. Do you promise to not tell another living soul what I am about to reveal?”
“You have my word of honor.”
What honor, Amy said to herself, and then continued.
“You see, my mother was secretly married to Prince Charles Edward, Bonnie Prince Charlie, and I am the heir. He was excluded from the throne as were all the other heirs, because parliament has prohibited Catholics from inheriting the throne.”
“Yes that is true,” said Lord Eskman.
“But, you see, Lord Eskman, I am Church of England. I can inherit the throne. A select few people know this and so I am in great danger. Our beloved King George would never do me any harm, but he has supporters who are plotting against me.”
“That is dreadful,” said Lord Eskman.
“Oh, I don’t mean they want to do me bodily harm. What they want to do is prevent me from marrying.”
“Why would that be?”
“Because of an odd legal stipulation that few know of.”
“Legal stipulation?”
She wished he wouldn’t keep repeating everything she said.
“I cannot inherit the throne until I marry. And that is fine with me. I wouldn’t want to supplant King George. He is so used to being king, that it would be cruel to make him give up the throne.”
Lord Eskman was looking at her with a strange expression. She suspected she had taken things a little too far, and there were a few inconsistencies in what she had said, but that was fine with her. It had been fun.
On the journey back to the townhouse, as Mattie bubbled and her mother fretted about unimportant things, Amy felt a cozy satisfaction about teasing Lord Eskman—until she thought about Ben.
Chapter 31
Although Emma’s doctor had relatively modest offices, there was a fine study with a roaring fire to ward off the Monday morning chill. Today was overcast with a cold biting rain. Summer in England can be tricky.
Amy sat in a wooden-backed chair, while her mother and father occupied the fine stuffed armchairs on either side of the ornate fireplace. Mattie was also present, somewhat reluctantly, although genially, and of course Emma who was the subject of their little gathering.
This was Emma’s last day to see the doctor, and he paced back and forth rather briskly as he spoke.
“I know the lass appears to have improved during the past week, and I am sure she has, that is what I have worked to achieve, but she is far from being back to normal. I am sure she is very much on the mend, and will be herself again, but it might take a few weeks. Continue with the puddings. I have written out the recipe. Give it to your cook. I have prepared some medicine, but what will be best for the lass is sunshine, whenever you can find any in our soggy northern climate, and good invigorating fresh air. Salt pudding and fresh air does a body much good.”
He stopped beside Emma, and looked down at her with a big grin. He chucked her under the chin, and she smiled back at him.
“Hurry and get well, Lass, and remember to eat a bowl of pudding each day. If you start to get your fill of it, ask your mother to add any fruit that’s available. We’re coming into winter soon, but oranges from Spain, or imported raisins or sweetmeats make it a bit more lively and tasty. Will you do that for me, Lass?”
He tousled her hair and turned to her mother and father.
“Well, I am finished with the lass, she’s ready to be launched.”
Amy’s father sat his usual stiff, stoic, solid self, but her mother looked concerned. Now came the difficult question because of the family’s troubled finances.
“How much do we owe you for Emma’s treatment, doctor?”
“Not a penny, Lady Sibbridge. Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey have already paid me for Emma.”
Amy knew this made her mother uncomfortable, because it pained Mildred Sibbridge to be the recipient of what she considered to be charity even if it was from a close and dear friend. For so many years the family had been well cared for by their own resources, but everything had gone awry since Anthony Sibbridge was thrown from his horse. But Amy was glad for Sir Frank’s kindness because it relieved her mother of a great burden.
“Thank you, doctor, for helping Emma so much.”
“Don’t think anything of it, Lady Sibbridge, there is much truth in the claim that we doctor’s just sit and watch while God and the patient do the rest. You don’t live in London, do you?”
“We’re from Stokely-on-Arne. The Ramseys have kindly accommodated us while Emma was being treated, but we go back home on Thursday.”
That night, Amy lay in bed. Her worries and wonders about Ben were getting increasingly worse. She had a dread fear that something had happened to him. Was he sick or injured? Dead? She could not bear that thought. Or, maybe, she feared, he no longer had affection for her. Has he even been receiving her letters? She decided to write another letter, perhaps this would be her last.
After breakfast on Tuesday morning, she asked Leo if she might use the study to write a letter. It was a difficult letter to write, because she wanted to express her emotions without being maudlin. It took her a lot longer than she intended and it was close to noon when she was finished. After she had sealed her letter she sought out Leo. She found him sitting down to lunch with her family. So Amy sat down with the others at the lunch table. She took a few nibbles, then looked at Leo.
“Leo, I would be most deeply appreciative if you would do me a very great kindness,” said Amy speaking very hurriedly. “I have a letter for a friend that I must get to him, and I want to take it to his club as soon as I can get it there.”
“You sound as if it is a matter of life or death,” said Leo.
He examined her closely.
“Do you realize you’re trembling?” he asked.
“No I’m not—yes I am, but it’s just because I’m a little cold.”
“It’s not warm enough in the house?”
“Yes it is fine and warm, it’s just me that is cold.”
“I’m not quite sure what you meant, but since it is so important, I’ll take you right away—at least as soon as we can get the coach ready.”
“No. Finish your lunch,” said Amy feeling a little guilty.
“What, and leave a fair maiden in distress. That is not what we Ramseys do,” he joked.
Once the horses were hitched and they were all ready to go, he turned to her and asked: “Where shall I tell the coachman we need to head out to?”
“The Eccentric Club.”
He was about to bark the order to the coachmen, but stopped abruptly and stared at Amy.
“The Eccentric Club. You have heard of the Eccentric Club?” She asked, wondering if it was some club no one had ever heard of.
“Everyone has heard of the Eccentric Club, dear cousin,” said Leo, who was of course, not Amy’s cousin. “Why the Eccentric Club?”
“Because that is where he resides, when he is in London.”
“A great many famous people, noblemen, scholars, scientists, and merchants go to the Ecc
entric Club, but no one resides there. The Eccentric Club gathers at a tavern in the May Building on St. Martin’s Lane. They sometimes engage in activities that have the authorities looking the other way rather than act against some of the most famous men in England, but the one thing they do not do is reside there.”
“But that is where he receives his mail,” said Amy feeling somewhat flustered.
“That may well be. He likely has made arrangements for that, but he must be residing somewhere else.” Leo leaned out of the window of the coach and called to the coachman: “Take us to the Eccentric Club.”
Even the coachman knows where it is, Amy thought to herself. She clutched her letter tightly as they rolled towards the main road. She looked out of the window of the coach while deep in thought. The road was deserted except for three workmen, who seemed to be working on the cobblestones. One of the workmen had his cap pulled down over his face and his collar turned up high as if to protect himself from inclement weather. It struck Amy as amusing, but passed from her thoughts as they turned into the main road which was choked with carts and conveyances of all sorts.
Just before two o’clock they pulled up next to May’s Building where the Eccentric Club met. As Amy reached for the handle of the coach, Leo asked her: “What are you doing?”
“I have to take my letter into the club.”
“You cannot do that. This is a men’s club, they wouldn’t appreciate a lady bursting in, even though they are not in session. I’ll take it in for you.”
She reluctantly let Leo take the letter, and he jumped out of the coach, and headed to the front door of May’s Building. Amy watched him and bemoaned how unfair life was. She decided that some day when she was rich, and she had no doubts that was somehow going to happen, she would start a club for ladies, no, for women, and not let men in.
That was when she noticed that Leo was returning to the coach. Why didn’t he go inside? She climbed out of the coach and was immediately impressed by the large church just a few hundred feet in front of the coach.
“That’s St. Martin-in-the-Fields,” said Leo as he noticed her looking at the building.
“Why didn’t you take my letter inside?” she asked returning to the subject at hand.
“I’m not a member. They wouldn’t let me in,” said Leo sheepishly. “They said they’ll get the letter to Ben.”
Amy wondered if Ben was even getting the letters. Or are they just piling up at the club? Amy had to know.
“We have to speak to that man you gave the letter to,” she said, and proceeded to march back to the front door of the building with Leo hurrying after. He was intensely thankful when the doorman or whatever the man was, evidently saw this charging woman, and came out front to find the cause.
“This gentleman,” she said to the puzzled servant, indicating Leo,” just left a communication for Sir Benjamin Anstruther.”
“Yes milady,” said the servant.
“I have sent a number of communications to Sir Benjamin of late. How do I know he is receiving them?”
As they were talking, a small man dressed in the garb of a clerk came out the front door of the club and brushed by them.
“As a matter of fact, that clerk that just came out of the building comes each day about this time and takes any letters or other items left for Sir Benjamin.”
“Where does he take the letters?” asked Amy.
“I’m afraid we have no knowledge of that. All we know is that Sir Benjamin authorized that man to pick up his letters and packages.”
That evening, Amy fretted away the hours going back to the old questions. If Ben is getting her letters why does he not respond? She gradually developed a plan. When no members of the household were around, she cornered one of the maids and asked to speak with her.
That night after dinner she asked to use the study again, and wrote another letter. After that she felt better.
At breakfast Wednesday morning she asked Leo to take her to the Eccentric Club just before two that afternoon.
“What are you going to do, attack them?” joked Leo. “You’re going to read about yourself in the newspapers soon. The Mad Lady of St. Martin’s Lane Attacks Again.”
“I hope not,” laughed Amy. “I’ll try to be good.”
Just after one that afternoon as they were about to go out to the coach, and Leo was complaining about not being able to finish lunch again, Amy told him: “Please wait here. I will be back in about five minutes.”
She left poor Leo staring after her as she went upstairs to the room she was using. In less than five minutes she was back. A confused and puzzled Leo stared as Lady Amaryllis descended the staircase dressed as a common maid. Over the maids outfit she was wearing a woolen coat that had seen better times. He just held his hands out with the palms up in a gesture that asks the question, why?
She motioned to him to be quiet, as she glided past the drawing room where her mother, Mattie, and Emma were, hoping not to be seen. There were just too many questions to answer should her mother catch sight of her daughter in her humbled condition.
Safely ensconced in the coach heading for their destination, she explained to Leo that she borrowed the maid’s street clothes, because, she said, I might need them. She couldn’t help herself saying it in as mysterious a way as she could.
When they reached their destination on St. Martin’s Lane, she asked Leo to deliver her letter, which he did. Then he returned to the coach.
“What now?” asked a baffled Leo.
“Just wait,” said Amy in a sort of whisper, although there was no reason to do that.
As she spoke, she saw the little clerk come out of the Eccentric Club. She drew Leo’s attention to him as he hurried off down the street.
“Follow him, but don’t let him see that we are following him,” ordered Amy.
In the crowded and bustling streets of London, that was easy. But it was not long before the little man turned into a narrow street with no visible traffic.
“Uh oh,” said Amy as she jumped out of the coach and took off after him, before Leo could prevent her. “Wait here and do not follow me,” she yelled back to the startled Leo.
She followed the little man down the curving narrow street. On one occasion he glanced back, which made her uncomfortable. She hoped he didn’t think she was following him, then she chastised herself. It’s just my guilty conscience, he’ll think nothing of a serving girl walking down a street, she told herself. Then another thought. Even though she was wearing a serving girl’s clothes, were they still too good for this neighborhood?
Suddenly he turned into a narrow lane. If he saw her follow him in, wouldn’t he know she was following him? She decided to walk past the lane, glancing to see if he was looking. When she did, she saw out of the corner of her eye that he was indeed standing watching. What should she do? she asked herself as she walked around the curve in the street. At that moment she saw through a gap in the buildings to her right, the little man walking down a lane with his back to her. She quickly followed him into the twisting maze.
With some difficulty she was able to follow him through the warren without being seen, until he finally entered what appeared to be a very dilapidated courtyard. He climbed up some rickety wooden steps to a landing and knocked on a door. She was able to conceal herself as she watched. After a few moments the door opened, and a shadowy figure in the doorway took the letter and the little man immediately left. He passed within a few feet of her but did not see her. She was sure that the shadowy figure in the doorway was Ben, just by his demeanor.
As soon as the little clerk was safely out of sight, she hurried up the steps and knocked loudly on the door. She was annoyed. She was conscious of someone looking out of a small window, and then the door opened. Ben, standing clutching his dressing gown tightly, was about to ask what she wanted, when he recognized her, and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Lady Amaryllis Sebbridge was standing at his door in the worn garb of a poor serving girl.
“There are certain people, very dangerous people, that must not know where I am. You should not have come here. You might have been followed.”
“If I could find you, a poor simple country girl, isn’t it obvious that they, whoever they are, could find you without having to follow me.”
“Amy Sebbridge, there is no one in his right mind who would even dare to accuse you of being a poor simple country girl. Of course you are right, much as I hate to admit it. I am going to have to review how I am to be contacted in the future.”
“There was some luck and some chance involved, but I think a determined foe could track you down, Ben. But that is not why I tracked you here. Why, Ben, please tell me why you have not answered my letters?”
“Because, at this stage, any form of communication is dangerous.”
“That is not an answer Ben. You cannot even give me a good reason for your silence. I think you don’t want our friendship to continue. You can forget me and forget my mission to solve the puzzle, the enigma, of my origins.”
With that, and with all her pent up emotion bursting forth, she marched away and down the rickety steps, which swayed dangerously as if about to break. He called after her, but she ignored his pleas for her to come back. Things might be different later, but right now she was a woman scorned. At least, that is how she felt. She was never going to see Ben again!
She retraced her pathway through the maze. When she was rounding the curve that led to the street where the coach was waiting, and just about where the clerk turned down the lane, three workmen were standing talking on the other side of the narrow street. It occurred to her that they looked familiar, but she was still deeply agitated by her annoyance with Ben. Just as she neared the curve where the main street would come in view, she felt she was being followed.