“I fear you will be giving Aunt Susan’s neighbors food for gossip, sir,” she protested gently.
“Let them gossip,” he replied. “Will it annoy you?”
Jessica was silent. She didn’t think it would annoy her at all. Not enough, at any rate, to make her wish to withdraw her hand from his grasp. When she looked up at him in blushing confusion, his eyes were twinkling.
“Detestable creature,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
“I hope you don’t say such things to Lady Prodmore’s face, my dear,” he retorted, eyes atwinkle, “though I cannot help but agree with your estimation. She is indeed a detestable creature.”
A gurgle of laughter escaped her. “You know perfectly well that I didn’t mean Lady Prodmore when I said that.”
“Oh? You find her entirely charming, I daresay.”
Jessica wrinkled her nose, looking up at him again. “She really is detestable, isn’t she? How did you realize we were longing to be rid of her? It seemed as if she had been there for hours.”
“Even if it had been only minutes, I knew you would be longing to get rid of her. Stands to reason. Anyone would. Besides, your estimable aunt looked ready to chew andirons into horse nails.”
The ready laughter bubbled up again, and she responded naturally to the warm little squeeze he gave her hand. “It’s a wonder Aunt Susan didn’t come to cuffs with that woman. You ought to have heard poor Andrew expounding on some trial or other that took place fifty years ago in an attempt to keep them from each other’s throats.”
“I should like to have heard it. I collect your aunt mentioned her visit to King’s Bench?”
“Yes, were you there?”
He nodded.
“Well, Lady Prodmore doesn’t think Mr. Hatchard deserves to get off. She thinks he ought to have proved the facts of the report correct before he printed it.”
“There is some truth to that view,” Sir Brian said seriously.
Jessica stopped dead on the pathway and turned to face him. “How can you say that? Are you implying that those who suggest the report is a fabrication are correct?”
“Not at all,” he returned gently. “I am saying, however, that it would not be the first time the Africa Institute failed to get corroboration of certain facts before making them public. Their cause is, for the most part, a good one, but they are a zealous lot, my dear.” Seeing the skepticism in her eyes, he grimaced. “Look here, Jessica, I have never been an advocate of slavery, whatever else you may think of me. I inherited my West Indian property from my father. I personally believe that if slavery could be ended with justice for everyone, it ought to be abolished entirely and at once. But that cannot be. There are too many issues involved. For one, the slaves themselves, now that they have been domesticated, cannot go back to their African way of life, and they would not survive on their own without the plantations to support them. Secondly, in order to end the system in the West Indies alone, surely you will agree that some arrangement must be made so that the white landowners are not made to suffer unfair financial losses. Total abolition would mean an end to their livelihood and a tremendous loss of property, and the only way by which their safety could be assured would be to bring them all home. Since many are not even British, a successful solution to the problem would require agreement of action by all the countries involved.”
“But it would not be necessary to end the system in order to abolish slavery,” she protested. “Why could the landowners not merely pay the black workers for their services and continue the system without the brutality?”
“It is economically unfeasible,” he said, still in that calm, quiet voice. “You forget that the slaves are completely supported by the landowners now. Either that would stop, or the wages would be an additional expense. Whichever way it worked out would be far too expensive for the landowner. At the very least he would have to make do with fewer workers, which would mean a very large number of discontented persons out of work. You’ve seen for yourself in this country what can happen under such conditions. Riots, violence—it rarely leads to anything healthy.”
Silence fell between them again, and Jessica made no protest when he replaced her hand in the crook of his elbow and began walking again. She knew there was much truth in what he said, but it still seemed to her that the major issue was slavery itself. It was a dreadful institution and ought to be ended. At once. But he sounded so very logical and unheated that it was difficult to say such a thing to him without sounding simply bullheaded herself. His words made sense. She glanced up at him uncertainly.
“You said the cause was a good one.”
“For the most part, I said. I don’t think any civilized person would argue in favor of the brutal side of slavery. I’m not by any means so certain that the brutality is as great an issue as it’s been made to sound by the abolitionists, however.”
“How can you say that?” she demanded. “Why, there are tales told every day of new horrors.”
“And such incidents are undeniably deplorable, but each time something of that nature is reported, it is immediately and heavily publicized, and in truth we do not read those tales every day. Furthermore, I can tell you this, my dear, as a landowner. It takes a very stupid man to destroy a piece of property for which he has paid a long price, merely out of temper or a misplaced notion of discipline. And now that the British slave trade has been abolished, I can assure you that any slave costs a great deal of money, for one must now buy new slaves from other slave owners. And when the supply goes down, the price goes up. Believe me when I tell you the brutality diminishes in a like ratio.”
“You’re saying that Lady Prodmore might be right, and that the incident in the Institute report was at least an exaggeration?”
“By no means. I have no way of knowing that for a fact, while I do know for a fact that such things are known to happen. However, it is perfectly true in this instance that the Institute’s directors did nothing to verify their facts before they delivered the report to Hatchard for printing.
And now there appears to be no evidence to support the fact that the flogging incident ever took place.”
“I see. And you say the Institute has done this sort of thing before?” It did not occur to her to disbelieve him.
“So I have been told. With members caring deeply, even passionately, for the cause, it would not be the first time expediency had overruled good sense. Stories like that one stir the public soul, which is precisely what is wanted. Unfortunately, such tactics often lead to action that has not been carefully thought out.”
“Is that why you have become involved with the Institute?”
“I believe in working within the system to better it,” he said. “I am a justice of the peace, after all, sworn to uphold law and order. And I believe the two, in any responsible civilization, must go together, Jessica.”
She wasn’t sure at first whether he had answered her question or not, but as she thought about his words, she realized he had. He considered the Institute part of the system now, and if it was going to influence the cause of justice, he wanted to be involved. Understanding that fact gave her a clearer view of the tall man walking beside her. She looked up at him again, but this time she had no thought of politics or causes in her head. He was looking straight ahead, and his profile, against the brown and red brick of the houses in the square, was distinctive. His chin was up, and he moved beside her with athletic grace. He had shortened his stride to match hers, and the slow pace seemed at odds with the vital energy that emanated from him. Jessica’s fingers tightened involuntarily on his arm just then, and he looked down at her.
“Warm enough?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, suddenly breathless as his eyes met hers. “You were right. I have no need for my pelisse.”
His eyes held hers. “It would be a criminal act to hide that beautiful body beneath a heavy pelisse, my dear,” he said, drawing to a halt and turning her body toward his.
Jessica’s breath
seemed to catch in her throat. They were in a part of the garden that was heavily foliated, but they could certainly still be seen from one or two upper windows around the square. What was she thinking of, to be standing here, nearly in a gentleman’s embrace?
Suddenly there was no nearly about it. She was in his arms. It was as if he had felt himself drawn by the look in her eye, for he appeared to be mesmerized as his face drew nearer to hers and his arms went with tantalizing slowness around her shoulders. As his lips claimed hers, Jessica forgot to worry about being overlooked from some window or other and gave her complete attention to the sensations coursing through her body. This time it was no simple glow of warmth invading her. This time it was a white heat that seemed to chase every other feeling before it.
Sir Brian’s firm mouth moved against her softer one, first caressingly, then more demandingly as his passion grew. Jessica, lost now to the outside world, responded to his demands, allowing his lips to part, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his tongue as it explored the velvety interior of her mouth. His hands moved too, caressing her shoulders, then moving down toward her waist and around to the front of her body. As one hand moved lightly over her breast, she experienced a flash of dancing nerves that sent rippling shock waves clear to her toes. Her eyes opened, widening, and she saw that he had opened his as well. They were twinkling as he watched her. But when she stirred as though she would pull away from him, one of his hands moved to her waist again, tightening, drawing her closer. And Jessica swayed against him, something deep within her refusing to fight the wonderful feelings. The next time his hand touched her breast, she felt the flesh beneath her thin gown swelling to meet him, and she pressed harder against the length of his hard body, her kisses becoming as passionate at his, while she let her hands begin an exploration of their own. She heard him chuckle deep in his throat, and a moment later found herself standing back on her heels, regarding him quizzically.
“You are going to have us both in the briars, my girl, if I don’t return you pretty speedily to the safety of your aunt’s house,” he told her roundly.
“Well, I like that!” she retorted indignantly.
“I could tell that much for myself.”
“You know perfectly well that I didn’t mean that.”
“Didn’t you? I had hoped that you did.”
“Insufferable.”
“And you, my dear, are a pretty little liar if you mean to pretend you didn’t enjoy that interlude quite as much as I did.”
“Little, Sir Brian?” Her eyes began to dance.
“That’s better,” he said. “Shall we return to the house?”
They had turned back toward the garden gate, when suddenly Jessica stiffened, staring toward the tall house on the southwest corner. “Look at that smoke,” she said, her voice strangling in her throat. “My God, sir, Aunt Susan’s house is on fire!”
8
SIR BRIAN’S STARTLED GAZE quickly followed her own. There was certainly an overabundance of black smoke billowing forth into the sky from the top of Lady Susan’s house. Grabbing Jessica by the arm, Sir Brian began running toward the gate. She pulled away from him.
“You will go faster by yourself,” she cried. “Send one of the footmen to St. George’s. The vestry fire brigade!”
Each parish vestry in London was responsible for maintaining its own fire brigade, and St. George’s brigade had an excellent reputation for both speed and efficiency. Jessica knew that within a very few moments after the bell sounded, the huge fire horses would be racing toward her aunt’s house. Right now, though, her only thought was to assure herself that Lady Susan was safe.
Sir Brian, taking her at her word, had dashed off, and a moment later she saw one of the green-liveried footmen running pell-mell across George Street toward the magnificent church. Though she hurried, Jessica did not so far forget herself as to run, and by the time she was mounting the steps to the house, the fire bell had already begun to clang. As she rushed through the open door, Sir Brian strode toward her from the back of the entry hall.
“It is quite all right,” he told her calmly. “Only a flare-up in the kitchen chimney, as near as anyone can tell. I sent the lad for the fire brigade, despite the fact that your aunt’s cook assures me that they can control it from the basement. It is best to be wise before the fact in an incident like this, I believe.”
“Merciful heavens!” exclaimed Jessica, dismayed. “I should have thought of the kitchen chimney.”
Sir Brian regarded her curiously. “You mean you ought to have anticipated this fire? Really, my dear, do you number clairvoyance amongst your talents?”
“No, of course not,” she replied impatiently. “It is just that every chimney in this house is thick with soot and needs a thorough cleaning, but Aunt Susan refuses to have a sweep in the house because she insists that she cannot support an industry that abuses children. Nevertheless, this is carrying principle entirely too far. Why, we might all have been burnt alive in our beds!”
“Very true. Why does she not hire a man who employs the modern cleaning machines in place of a climbing boy?”
Lady Susan, perfectly composed, came down the stairs in time to hear his words. “What sort of machines do you mean, Sir Brian? I understand there has been a spot of bother belowstairs, but I do not understand why the fire wagon has drawn up before the house, Jessica, or why there are men rushing down my area stairs. Where are Bates and Birdlip?”
Jessica turned toward her, controlling her emotions with difficulty. “They are no doubt in the kitchen, ma’am, where the fire brigade is attempting to extinguish a chimney fire. Surely you knew the kitchen chimney was very likely in the same condition as the rest of the chimneys in this house. Sir Brian says the fire is most providentially contained in that one chimney, which quite fortunately is separate from the others, but what if the flare-up had occurred in one of the bedrooms, where all the chimneys connect not just to each other but to the rooms below? Such a thing would undoubtedly have resulted in a serious conflagration.”
“But we do not light fires in the bedrooms these days,” her aunt pointed out matter-of-factly.
“On the contrary, Mellin lit one in mine the first night I was here. And, for that matter, one of your footmen lit the drawing room fire that night, as well.”
“Well, but that was before we decided the chimneys were too dangerous to use, you know,” said Lady Susan, “although I suppose if the kitchen chimney is going to pose a threat, something must be done. We can scarcely do without a cooking fire. You spoke of a sweep who uses only machines, Sir Brian?”
He smiled at her prosaic attitude toward the fact that her house might have been in danger of burning to the ground, but his tone was serious when he answered her. “I did,” he said. “It’s quite the coming thing, though many people seem to harbor an odd prejudice toward them. They are merely brushes on long poles with a system of levers, ropes, and pulleys, which enables the sweep to control them from the rooms below.”
“They do not sound as though they can be very efficient,” her ladyship said thoughtfully.
“Not as efficient as climbing boys, certainly,” Sir Brian agreed with a wry twist to his lips, “but efficient enough to prevent fires such as the one which your chef and the fire brigade are now attempting to extinguish, my lady.”
Lady Susan nodded, then glanced at Jessica. “I daresay we must do something, must we not?”
“Unless you expect to receive a great many invitations henceforth to dine out,” Jessica responded unhesitatingly. “Really, Aunt, every chimney in this house needs to be thoroughly cleaned as soon as possible.”
The chief of the fire brigade agreed with her when that portly gentleman appeared at the front door some moments later, requesting speech with the owner of the house. His men, having entered the kitchen through the area door, had soon discovered that the fire was still burning merrily away in the chimney.
“There be two of ’em on the roof now, m’lady. They’ll soon p
ut things right, but that ’ere chimney’s a fearsome menace t’ the public safety. Needs cleanin’, y’ know. Like as not the rest ’o ’em could do with a brushing as well. Needn’t tell you what’s what, o’ course, but a second fire like this ’un could result in a fine bein’ levied by the vestry.”
“That will not be necessary,” Lady Susan told him graciously. “I quite realize that the time has come to clean the chimneys. Merely an oversight, you understand, that they have not been seen to before now,” she added with a bland disregard for the truth.
“Figured as much, ma’am. House like this.” He gestured grandly. “Bound to take a deal o’ care. Figured ye’d know what’s o’clock, fine lady like yerself. Be sayin’ good day t’ ye now. Good day, miss. Sir.” He fired Sir Brian a half-salute and took himself off.
“I hope they don’t do any damage up there,” Lady Susan said, glancing upward. “The tiles on that roof are shockingly difficult to replace.”
Having made up her mind to get her chimneys cleaned, Lady Susan wasted little time after Sir Brian had taken his departure before setting matters in train. That is to say, she gave orders to her butler to see to the business and to make absolutely certain that the person he hired agreed to use only the newfangled machines to accomplish the task. Then, content in the knowledge that she had done her duty to the vestry and seen to the safety of her house, she retired to her dressing room to begin preparations for the evening ahead, which, like its predecessors, was to be a busy one.
Fortunately, in Jessica’s opinion at least, they had been invited to dine in Duke Street before going on with Lord and Lady Gordon to a reception at Carlton House. Lord Gordon, though not precisely a member of the Prince Regent’s set, made no secret of his admiration for those who were, and he was quite beside himself with pride over having been blessed with the honor of an invitation to the reception. He actually greeted his sister-in-law with the appearance, at least, of familial affection.
“You look charmingly this evening, my dear,” he said in his usual pompous tones. “And, Lady Susan, always a treat to have your company, ma’am.”
The Battling Bluestocking Page 11