The Battling Bluestocking

by Scott, Amanda

  “Your mistress will be very angry when you do not return to her,” she said quietly.

  “Is true, ma’mselle,” he replied in his careful English. “Me, I have been here two hours now. Mistress say come right back, soon as I give m’lady le billet doux. If I go return now, my mistress will punish me. She has a little whip, n’est-ce pas?” He raised his dark eyes solemnly to meet hers.

  “Good gracious, Jessica, do you hear what the lad is saying? That dreadful woman beats him.”

  “Aunt Susan, please, there are still a good many people in England who beat their servants, their wives, and their children. I daresay Lady Prodmore does no more to young Albert here than any schoolmaster does to the boys under his charge. Less, in fact. I doubt she is as strong as a schoolmaster.”

  “My mistress very strong,” Albert insisted, his eyes warily upon Jessica, as though he feared she might prevail in her argument.

  “Yes, Albert,” she said quietly. “I don’t doubt that you dislike it when she punishes you. But she is still your mistress, and you ought to obey her. If you stay here, you may well cause my aunt a deal of trouble. You would not wish to do that.”

  “Pooh, don’t listen to her, Albert,” interjected Lady Susan, straightening her shoulders and glaring at Jessica before returning her attention fully to the boy. “A little trouble won’t daunt us, will it? We shall see this business through together. This country will not tolerate slavery within its very boundaries. We’ll rout your lady between us, I promise you. Not,” she added in a pointed aside to her niece, “that I believe for one moment that there will be any routing to be done. That woman will not pursue the matter. It will be left to us merely to discover the quickest and easiest way to gain the boy his freedom under the law. And I mean to see that every step we have to take is well publicized. It is outrageous that a person can be purchased in another country, then brought here to London and kept in slavery. The very fact that one cannot purchase a slave here proves that England will not stomach such an iniquitous institution.”

  Jessica knew that thanks to her easy victory over the chimney sweep, her aunt was well away upon a new crusade and that this time no amount of talking in the world would dissuade her from her course. That Lady Susan so clearly underestimated her opponent was the thing that frightened Jessica the most. If Lady Prodmore were to bring charges, there was no telling what might happen.

  For once, she truly wished Sir Brian were present to advise her. Even if he, too, were unable to convince Lady Susan of her folly, at least he would be able to protect her from the consequences. Of that fact Jessica had no doubt. And the consequences could be grave. Remembering how she had feared a scandal over Jeremy’s rescue, Jessica shuddered. This matter was a hundred times worse, and she didn’t have the slightest notion what she should do about it. She needed Sir Brian.

  But when, with hope but not much optimism, she sent a footman to Charles Street to inquire whether or not Sir Brian had returned to town, it was Andrew, not his uncle, who accompanied the manservant back to Hanover Square.

  “What has happened?” Andrew demanded, hurrying into the drawing room without waiting to be properly announced. “I took the liberty of reading that cryptic missive your man brought round, because my uncle has not yet returned to town, and I thought any message from you must be important.”

  She explained the matter to him, and he was quite as dismayed as she was herself.

  “Hell and the devil confound it!” Andrew exclaimed. “There will be trouble over this, never doubt it. Of all the totty-headed females! Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Jessica,” he added ruefully when he realized his language had gone beyond the line of being pleasing, “but when I consider that you and my uncle caused me to be clapped up in irons because of a mere prank, you can scarcely blame me for suggesting that your aunt deserves to be clapped into Bedlam.”

  “Andrew!”

  “Oh, very well. I should not say such things, I know. But I hope you don’t expect me to get her out of this scrape, for I tell you frankly, ma’am, I haven’t the least notion how to go about it. Can you not convince her that she is being dashed unwise?” When Jessica favored him with a speaking look, he answered his own question. “No, of course not. I was forgetting how involved she becomes with her causes. That is, I have never really seen it for myself, you know, except a little in the matter of that fellow Hatchard. I say, Miss Jessica, I wish Uncle Brian were here. He’d know now to go to work with her.”

  For once Jessica had no desire to contradict him. She wanted Sir Brian in the worst way. Not merely because he might be able to manage Lady Susan better than she could herself, but also because she felt a strong need for his emotional support. A smile from those dark brown eyes just now, she thought, would do more to bolster her courage than anything else she could think of.

  But Sir Brian was not in London, so they were left to deal with the business themselves. The Prodmore footman who arrived less than an hour later, saying that his lady had sent him to ascertain whether or not Albert had visited Hanover Square that day, was easily dealt with. Bates simply sent him on his way with an affirmative reply and no further information. Lady Prodmore, however, presenting herself at what Lady Susan stigmatized as an unconscionably early hour the following morning, was less easily sent about her business. With a sense of deep foreboding Jessica accompanied her aunt to the drawing room after their guest’s arrival had been announced.

  Lady Prodmore was standing, waiting for them, her crisp pink sarcenet gown fairly crackling with a suppressed emotion that Jessica was not certain she could define. Her ladyship was either extremely annoyed or extremely excited. “I understand that my page did indeed deliver my invitation to you yesterday, Lady Susan,” she said, looking down her long nose at her hostess, as she got directly to the point, “but my footman seems to have neglected to inquire whether or not Albert said where he meant to go from here.”

  “No,” replied Lady Susan carefully, “Albert said nothing about going anywhere in particular.”

  “I didn’t suppose for a moment that he did,” the stout woman said tartly. “In fact, my lady, I take leave to doubt that he ever left this house.”

  There could be no question of it now. Lady Prodmore was not in the least annoyed. She fairly trembled with anticipation as she waited for Lady Susan’s reply, and Jessica knew instantly that her aunt’s dismayed expression had given her away. But then, before Lady Prodmore could say anything more, Lady Susan’s back stiffened, and her countenance took on a look of even greater dignity than usual.

  “Your assumption is quite correct, madam. Albert is here, and here he shall remain. I have promised to seek his freedom for him.”

  “Do you mean to imply that you have formed the intention of attempting to purchase him from me?” Lady Prodmore asked with an archness in her tone that made Jessica long to smack her. “I fear that such a transaction would be utterly out of the question, my dearest ma’am, for surely you must realize that it is against the law to buy or sell a slave in this country. I had to acquire young Albert in France, you know. And as I have already been to Paris this year, I do not think I could agree to making a second trip merely to accommodate your desire to purchase my slave. He will return with me at once, if you please.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” said Lady Susan. “I have neither the wish nor the need to purchase that poor child. In this country, madam, you will discover that people will not tolerate the holding of a child in slavery, once they realize that that is in fact what you are doing. I believe you will not wish to figure in the minds of the beau monde as a woman who would stoop to such evil.”

  “Please, Lady Prodmore,” Jessica said quickly, “you must see that if you carry this business too far, it will look ill for you. It is one thing to have a black page. People have become accustomed to the fashion over the years. It is quite another thing to inform them that the page is actually a slave. My aunt is right about that. Surely you must realize that the members of the beau monde who
think so highly of you now would not tolerate having the true facts of the matter brought home to them. Not, at any rate, by means of the scandal that you and my aunt seem determined to brew between you.”

  “Over the years,” pronounced her ladyship in majestic tones, “I have weathered more than one scandal, Miss Sutton-Drew, and I daresay I shall easily weather another. It is you and your aunt who will suffer if you pursue this madness, and it is you who ought to be considering what the more starched-up members of your set will think of it. I think you will find yourself much mistaken in the matter.” Lady Prodmore got to her feet and smoothed her skirt. “The beau monde tolerates a good deal, you know, but one thing all its members understand is the pound sterling, and Albert is a very expensive piece of property, one that you will never succeed in wresting from me. I shall take steps, Lady Susan, of that fact you may rest assured. Strong steps.”

  Lady Susan blinked at her. “You cannot know what you are saying,” she said quietly. “He is a child, like any child. He is not a piece of real estate.”

  “Under the law, madam, you will find that you are very much mistaken.”

  With those words as her parting shot, Lady Prodmore departed, leaving Jessica to stare, dismayed, at her aunt. “What on earth are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Whatever is necessary,” responded Lady Susan tartly. “But no matter what else happens, Jessica, Albert must be protected. We cannot allow that woman to get her hands on him again.”

  Jessica reluctantly agreed, but later that day she wished very much that she had not given such a promise to her aunt. Indeed, it would have made her feel a good deal better to have been able to produce Albert on the spot when two constables arrived, demanding that he be returned to his mistress. When Lady Susan, offended already merely by reason of the constables’ presence in her house, refused to accommodate their request, the elder of the two men shook his head sadly.

  “’Tis sorry I am t’ ear ye say that, me lady, fer it gives me no recourse. I must place ye under arrest for the theft of the boy Albert, property o’ Lady Prodmore.”

  “No!” cried Jessica.

  But Lady Susan was made of sterner stuff. “Never mind, my dear. Just get word to the Institute. Someone will know what to do. I believe the duke is gone out of town this week, but Mr. Wilberforce or one of the others will tell you what must be done to settle this business. On no account, however, are you to give Albert up to these persons or to anyone else.”

  “No, Aunt Susan, but are you perfectly certain? It will be horrible for you.” Tears were burning Jessica’s eyes, but when her aunt only glared at her, she did her best to stem them before they could spill over onto her cheeks. Her mind was rushing, so that she had already made several decisions by the time the hackney coach had rolled off down George Street with Lady Susan sitting obstinately erect between the two constables.

  First she sent word to Andrew. Next she scrawled a note to the secretary of the Africa Institute, Mr. Harrison, explaining what had transpired and requesting that he immediately inform whomever might best be suited to render prompt assistance to Lady Susan. And finally, albeit most reluctantly, she sent for Lord Gordon.

  The latter arrived in Hanover Square within the hour, thoroughly annoyed. “Really, Jessica, I cannot think how you came to allow such a thing to occur. A scandal in the family is the last thing I wish to hear about,” he informed her, pulling off his curly beaver hat and puffing out his cheeks in pompous displeasure.

  “I am sorry to have disturbed you, Cyril,” she returned, nettled. “Had I realized you wished to know nothing of the matter, you may be certain I should not have sent word to you. Please do not hesitate to leave us to deal with things ourselves. I am sure Andrew Liskeard will be along soon, and he will no doubt be glad to assist Aunt Susan in her hour of need.”

  Lord Gordon snorted. “Confound it, girl, don’t be absurd. You know perfectly well I meant nothing of the kind, but upon my word, I cannot like the business. Who could? Nonetheless, I know my duty, miss, and I shall do what I can. Though what business you had to lay a family matter such as this before young Liskeard, I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Cyril, don’t scold,” Jessica said contritely, sorry now that she had snapped at him. “I daresay I shouldn’t have sent for him but for the fact that he was here earlier and knows about Albert. Still, you are quite right, for once, to be annoyed. I am, myself. I keep feeling as though I ought to have been able to do something to prevent such a disaster. I did know that Lady Prodmore’s constant flaunting of Albert was distressing Aunt Susan, but I certainly never thought she’d get this wretched maggot into her head.”

  “The woman wants watching,” pronounced his lordship ominously. “You’d think she’d have caved in quite sensibly once she knew she was faced with arrest.”

  But that Jessica would not allow. “How can you say such a thing?” she demanded. “You know how strong her principles are. She would never allow the fear of arrest to weigh with her in such an instance, for she has great courage, and you know it, Cyril. You are merely annoyed,” she went on fiercely and without due thought, “because you think nothing is more important than the fact that you are at long last about to produce an heir!”

  There was a sudden heavy silence. Lord Gordon had stopped his pacing instantly upon hearing her words, but he stood for a moment, quite still, before turning to face her. In that moment Jessica realized what she had done, and she held her breath, waiting for whatever explosion might come.

  “What did you say?” he asked very quietly, much as though he feared he had misheard her.

  “I should have said nothing,” Jessica said just as quietly. “It was not my news to tell.”

  “An heir? Georgeanne is…is…”

  “‘Enjoying a delicate condition’ is “the way we say it in polite circles, Cyril,” Jessica told him, tickled by his bemused expression despite everything else on her mind.

  “Upon my word,” said Lord Gordon with growing astonishment. “An heir.”

  “Or an heiress,” she pointed out.

  “Of course.” He suddenly looked shaken. “I must go,” he said. “At once!” He strode purposefully toward the door.

  “Cyril!” Jessica called after him, dismayed. “What about Aunt Susan?”

  “Bother Aunt Susan!” he snapped over his shoulder. Then, catching a glimpse of Jessica’s outraged expression, he added, “Don’t fly up into the boughs, my dear. I’ll do what I can. But more important matters must come first.” And he was gone.

  13

  JESSICA STARED AFTER LORD Gordon for some moments before the absurdity of the situation struck, her. Then she managed a chuckle and sent a silent apology to her sister for letting the cat out of the bag. She only hoped that his lordship, in his jubilation, did not forget Lady Susan’s plight. And that hope became yet stronger when the afternoon passed without a single word from Mr. Harrison of the Africa. Institute. When Andrew finally appeared in answer to her summons, Jessica asked him if he thought it possible that the Institute might simply wash its hands of Lady Susan.

  “Couldn’t say,” he replied after a moment’s thought. “The Hatchard business put that lot in a bad light all round, you know. Daresay they’d just as lief not have another scandal fresh upon the heels of that one.”

  “Well, but they’ve got the scandal whether they like it or not,” Jessica pointed out. “My aunt has already been arrested, and by the look of things, she and Lady Prodmore will see the thing through to the end. I fancy Lady Prodmore is actually enjoying herself.”

  “Feels superior,” Andrew told her, nodding sagely. “Your aunt is the one cooling her heels at Bow Street, after all. Must give the odious Lady P. a deal of pleasure to think she’s responsible for putting her there.”

  “Poor Aunt Susan. How her dignity must have suffered today.”

  “Don’t you think it,” Andrew told her, chuckling. “Your aunt is no doubt enjoying every moment of her martyrdom thus far, feeling she’s
doing a good work.”

  Jessica couldn’t deny the possibility that he was right, but she found herself wishing again, and with all her heart, that Sir Brian were in town. Andrew’s presence did little to comfort her, whereas she was certain that Sir Brian would know exactly what to do.

  The evening seemed interminable, for Andrew soon left her to her own devices, and there was still no word from the Africa Institute or from Lord Gordon. However, that gentleman presented himself the next day at midmorning, accompanied by a dapper little man in a bottle-green coat and dove-colored pantaloons, whom he introduced as Mr. Lionel Wychbold. Jessica received them both in her aunt’s drawing room, feeling a large sense of relief that something was at last moving forward.

  “Mr. Wychbold, here, is my man of affairs,” Lord Gordon told her as they took their seats. “A solicitor, my dear. He will do whatever can be done for Lady Susan.” His lordship was looking positively benign this morning, Jessica thought. Learning that he was soon to become a papa evidently agreed with his constitution, but she hoped he was not driving her sister to distraction, as Georgeanne had predicted he would.

  Jessica glanced obediently at Mr. Wychbold and nodded, saying she was pleased to make his acquaintance. “Shall you be able to get her out of that awful place, sir?” she asked worriedly.

  Mr. Wychbold pursued his thin lips and rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. “As to that, Miss Sutton-Drew, I could not say as yet. However, I must warn you that the indications are against my being able to effect that desirable solution to the problem at hand anytime in the immediate future.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “In a word, miss, probably can’t be done.”

  “Merciful heavens, why not?”