“Ah! My secret is out! Ned,” he added in a whisper at his son’s ear, “Mamma knows my secret.” And to the Countess, “They are excellent bread soldiers, you will admit.”
Jane smiled. “Yes. Most excellent bread soldiers, my lord.”
“See, Ned! Mamma agrees,” Salt said with a wink at his wife and pretended to steal one of the fingers of bread from his son’s plate.
“No, Papa! They are my soldiers. You must make more soldiers, p—lease.”
“I know where Monkey is,” Merry offered.
Ned’s head snapped up and he wiped away the blond ringlets falling into his brown eyes, eyes that were suddenly very round with interest. “Monkey? Does Merry know where Monkey is hiding?”
“Monffey! Monffey!” Beth called out from her highchair, watching her brother jump up and down on his seat.
“Monkey! Monkey!” Ned chanted in reply, losing all interest in bread soldiers dipped in warm runny egg yolk.
The Earl and Countess shared a moment of collective eye rolling before glancing at Merry and having the same thought: They had forgotten a twelve-year-old was more than capable of knowing the words the couple spelled out in front of their young children.
“Ned will be very grateful to know you have Monkey safe and sound.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Jane, I don’t have Monkey,” Merry apologized. “I just know Monkey’s whereabouts.”
“You would be doing my entire household a great service, Merry, by revealing where Monkey has run off to,” the Earl said, holding to the back of his son’s fine linen shirt to stop him toppling off his cushion. “And before Ned manages to snap a chair leg.”
“Mamma has Monkey,” Merry said matter-of-factly, picking up her porcelain mug to finish off the last drops of her hot chocolate. When the Earl and Countess exchanged a startled glance and then stared at her mute, she added simply, “I saw her take him from Ned’s bed last night, and put him under her cloak.” She frowned, head to one side. “So if I saw Mamma take Monkey… I remember particularly she was wearing a red cloak… And Monkey is missing… Does that mean I wasn’t dreaming…? Oh, Aunt Jane! You’ve spilled your tea!”
The very idea that Diana St. John had somehow managed to enter her house, worse, been to the nursery and in her children’s bedroom, had Jane trembling with dread and she lost the grip on her teacup. It couldn’t be true. Surely, Merry had dreamed her mother’s trespass? But if Monkey was missing, and Merry had seen the beloved toy in Diana’s possession…
The teacup bounced and shattered at the Countess’s feet, sending shards of porcelain under the mahogany breakfast table, and splashing tea to stain the hem of her pink silk day gown and matching silk shoes.
Merry’s bad dream had become Jane’s nightmare.
NOT FIVE MINUTES LATER, just after Merry was fetched away by Kitty to help sort through a trunk full of old masks to find suitable ones for her and Lady Reanay to wear to the masquerade, Sir Antony poked his head into the breakfast room.
“Good morning, Salt Hendon family!” Sir Antony said with false cheeriness. “Please excuse the intrusion. I need a word with one of your nursery maids—wears a frilly cap with an overlarge flapping brim. Without delay, if you please.”
TWENTY-TWO
SOME TWO HOURS EARLIER, Sir Antony was shaving by the light streaming through his dressing room window. A footman tilted a gilt-framed hand mirror at just the right angle and height to allow maximum light to illuminate the stubble growth to his master’s chin and jaw. A second footman held a blue and white patterned porcelain bowl full of hot soapy water into which Sir Antony dipped his sharpened blade free of lather. He was in his stockinged feet and buff breeches, bare back presented to the room. The rest of his ensemble lay across the upholstered chaise where he had passed a restless night. The morning’s chosen silk frock coat hung on a peg. The day’s wig was dressed and waiting on its porcelain wig stand at one end of the dressing table. Here Semper was rearranging items from his master’s tortoiseshell and silver shaving box so he could set out the buckles required for breeches, stock and shoes, as well as the requisite accoutrements for his master’s pockets: Gold watch, fobs, tortoiseshell etui and enameled snuffbox.
Rinsing the shaving blade, Sir Antony said over his shoulder, a jerk of his bare head towards the bedchamber, “Lady Caroline got away this morning…?”
“Yes, my lord. Her ladyship said not to wake you. She and the pug puppy departed just on first light, before the chambermaids were up to reset the fires. Your lordship can be assured that no one saw her leave,” he added confidentially, because his master’s blade remained poised over the soapy water. “And even if they had, no one in this household would own to it if questioned.”
“Semper… Semper, I—”
“There is no need to explain, my lord,” the majordomo interrupted hastily, unnecessarily fiddling with the arrangement of tortoiseshell combs in the shaving box. “Her ladyship spent the entire night in your bedchamber, alone, while you slept on the sofa in here.”
“Is that what her ladyship told you, or is that what you believed happened, or is that your response to the below-stairs gossip?”
The majordomo looked affronted.
“I beg your pardon, my lord. I thought, as a gentleman—”
“Yes. Yes, Semper, you thought correctly! That was unfair on you. I apologize. Put it down to lack of sleep. Still, lack of sleep gave me time to ponder the future. You will be delighted to know that when this horrid business regarding the Lady St. John is done, the Lady Caroline and I will immediately marry, and spend our honeymoon in Ireland. I won’t impose on your own visit to Mrs. Semper’s sister, but it would make sense for us to travel across together. I have a second cousin in County Wicklow. Lives in a massive stone pile with acres of topiary dotted with statuary. Owns the local landmark, a waterfall. He’s presently Governor of Virginia, or is it Maryland? Point is, he’s not there and the estate is. We’ll take the Russians and an assortment of household staff and the various domesticated animals her ladyship can’t leave behind or she’d spend the entire time fretting for their welfare. When you’ve done visiting relations in Dublin you and Mrs. Semper must join us there.”
Semper made Sir Antony a quaint little bow of the head.
“Thank you, my lord. On behalf of Mrs. Semper and myself, may I wish you all the happiness in the world. Mrs. Semper will be doubly delighted.”
When he next rinsed the shaving blade in the porcelain bowl, Sir Antony said, “Thank you, Semper. Why will Mrs. Semper be doubly delighted?”
“Mrs. Semper had the privilege of being introduced when her ladyship collected the pug puppy. If I may say so, they got on famously. If not for the necessity of her ladyship returning to Grosvenor Square, they would’ve conversed till breakfast.”
“Ah. You must thank Mrs. Semper for taking care of Boots for the night.”
“It was no bother, my lord. In fact,” the majordomo added with an unconscious sigh, “Mrs. Semper took a great liking to the puppy—a very great liking… The thing of it is, my lord… Of course, I stressed to Mrs. Semper that I would seek your lordship’s permission…”
Sir Antony turned his right cheek to the sunlight and skillfully shaved his heavy jaw free of stubble. “Permission for what, Semper?”
“However, I’m afraid your permission may be just a formality when all is said and done,” Semper apologized. “Lady Caroline and Mrs. Semper have arrangements in place that I dare not interfere.” He grinned sheepishly. “Marriage gives a man another perspective.”
“I am certain it must,” Sir Antony replied, carefully shaving one sideburn and then the other. He patted dry his clean-shaven face with a towel and turned to his majordomo, waving away the two attending footmen. “These arrangements…?”
Semper carefully set aside the shaving blade. It would need sharpening before returning to the shaving case. He fetched Sir Antony’s fine linen shirt, saying evenly, “Mrs. Semper and I have become the proud parents of a p
ug puppy, brother of one Boots. Name to be decided upon delivery, my lord. That is, if your lordship will permit the adoption and doesn’t mind the interference of a pug below stairs…”
A deep chuckle came from within the shirt as Sir Antony threw it over his head. Tucking the voluminous folds into his breeches, he was still chuckling and shaking his head as he buttoned up his falls. “Not five minutes in my house and the minx is setting up a menagerie!”
“I did warn Mrs. Semper the arrangement was wholly dependent on your lordship’s approval, and not to get her hopes up.”
“I would never dare to presume to call Mrs. Semper a minx,” Sir Antony interrupted quietly, buttoning his shirt, all laughter subsided.
Semper’s eyes widened and he stuttered. “Of course—of course not, my lord!”
He handed his lordship his cravat to arrange to his satisfaction.
“Have you decided on a suitable costume for the masquerade ball, my lord? There is the costume you wore to Prince Ivan’s Bacchanalian Revels? The frock coat in puce embroidered with grape vine, with the—”
“I have. I will attend this masquerade ball as something far more exotic,” Sir Antony informed him. “I have a frock coat with matching waistcoat and breeches of blue silk with gold buttons and heavy gold trim to buttonholes, cuffs and white lapels, such as military types parade about in when wanting to show off. You remember it, Semper? I can’t recall why I decided it would suit me…” He shook his head, adding with a grin, “But I do believe such a striking ensemble is just the thing to complement the lovely red sash and Imperial Cross I will receive earlier that morning in the presence of His Majesty.”
“Is there a particular military personage from the pages of history you wish to impersonate at this ball, my lord?”
Sir Antony pulled a face
“Military personage? Hardly. Besides, Lady Caroline is not interested in people, Semper. I’m going as me. Well, me as a bird, a feathered fiend, in fact. Big, blue and golden…” Sir Antony reflected for a moment. “Sad eyes…” Then roused to say with a smile, “His name is Peter, Peter the Macaw, and my outfit will be as splendid as his feathers!”
Semper sensed Sir Antony thought his costume a very clever idea indeed, so he controlled his features and said in all seriousness, “Then may I suggest a feathered mask appropriate, my lord?”
“Feathered? Perfect! White and black should do nicely. As to this puppy… You’ve probably gathered from your conversation with Mrs. Semper, her ladyship’s primary concern is the welfare of domesticated animals, hers and others. Your adoption of one of Lady Caroline’s pug puppies, if it is truly what you and Mrs. Semper desire, and you have not been overly persuaded into this adoption by her ladyship—”
“No, my lord! Never. Mrs. Semper is very keen to take on the rearing of a puppy, and as Mrs. Semper’s happiness is paramount… I was left uneasy, however, as to the introduction of this animal into your lordship’s household…”
“Good gracious, Semper!” Sir Antony replied good-naturedly. “One small puppy will not make a speck of dust difference to my household once I am married and inherit Lady Caroline’s menagerie as my own. Which brings me to something else I pondered while wide-awake at three in the morning. Once I am married there will be a great many changes to this household—so many, in fact, that you will no longer be capable of juggling the dual roles of valet and majordomo. So what I propose is that you confine yourself to the tasks of running my considerably expanded household as its majordomo, with suitable remuneration, naturally.”
“Thank you, my lord. That is very generous of you. Mrs. Semper will be pleased.”
“She’ll be ecstatic when you also inform her the position comes with its own apartment in the south wing. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to take possession until Lady St. John and her conniving female companion have vacated the premises.” Sir Antony sighed as he plucked at the folds of his cravat. “That, God willing, is only days away… One of the Russians can be trained up to be my valet. I want you to decide a suitable replacement as soon as possible and make a start on showing him what’s what so he can accompany us into Wicklow.”
“Nikolas, my lord,” Semper said without hesitation. “Nikolas would be the most suitable of the Russians. And again, thank you, my lord, for the consideration.”
“You’re very welcome, Semper.” Sir Antony sat at his dressing table to have his wig fitted and looked at his majordomo’s reflection, “Now to the more tiresome but necessary business at hand. Tell me what Mr. T relayed to you this morning…”
Semper enlightened Sir Antony about his early-morning conversation with the thief-taker Mr. T and the comings and goings of Lady St. John and her party of the day before. All seemed mundane and in order until Semper mentioned a peculiar late-night occurrence involving the Lady Caroline’s sedan chair, adding with a frown,
“It was not Mr. T’s night watch who informed me of this strange event, but Randal the porter. It seems her ladyship’s sedan chair made a quite separate journey to and from this house, without her ladyship.”
“The chairmen took an empty sedan chair somewhere then returned here? What the devil for? Are they taking coin on the side; hackney chairmen in secret?”
“As to that, my lord, I could not say. It was rather odd, to say the least, except when I tell you that the sedan chair was not empty. I believe the chairmen thought they were conveying the Lady Caroline to and fro…”
Sir Antony waved a hand and Semper stepped back from tying the black bow of his master’s wig. Sir Antony swiveling on the dressing stool to face his majordomo.
“Believed? Who was it in the sedan chair?”
“Lady St. John, my lord. She was able to dupe the chairmen because she wore a red cloak similar to that owned by Lady Caroline.”
“Where was she off to? No! Don’t answer that. I can guess.”
“I do not know for what purpose, but I do know her ladyship returned here within an hour; so Randal informed me.”
“My porter seems to know a good deal about her ladyship’s comings and goings,” Sir Antony mused, eyes narrowed. “Is he, too, employed by Mr. T?”
“No, my lord. I thought as you do, and also wondered how Lady St. John knew the Lady Caroline had come to call at such a late hour and what she was wearing.”
“Get rid of the fellow! He’s obviously hedging his bets, running tales between Lady St. John and your good self.”
Sir Antony sighed and stood, closing his eyes briefly before turning his back so Semper could shrug him into a waistcoat of pink and green striped silk with matching covered buttons, embroidered with sprays of honeysuckle and bees on pockets and lapels.
“God knows what she was doing at Salt House… The only good to come of that news is she returned here within the hour… I trust the news from Mr. T is less startling.”
“I wish that were so, my lord,” the majordomo answered with real regret. “Yesterday, the carriage carrying Lady St. John stopped at a particular residence on Windmill Street off the Tottenham Court Road.”
“Tottenham Court Road? But that’s practically in the country!”
“Yes, my lord. Mr. T was surprised Windmill Street had a name at all, such is the lay of the land out that way—all open fields and dirt tracks. But there is a tavern and a freestanding residence set in its own grounds, and this was the establishment Lady St. John’s carriage drew up outside.”
“Possibly the only house on Windmill Street.”
“Yes, my lord. And there is good reason for that,” Semper replied with a frown and continued on with relating the events as told to him by the thief-taker. “Mrs. Smith went to the servant’s entrance of this particular residence in Windmill Street where she spoke to one of the inhabitants who, by her drab clothing, looked to be a domestic. Mrs. Smith disappeared inside the establishment, but was gone from view for less than five minutes, whereupon she reappeared and returned to the carriage.”
“I presume Mr. T thought this—exchange, me
eting, call it what you will—exceedingly underhanded?”
“He did, my lord. Forgive me for not mentioning Mr. T’s observations earlier but you had a razor to your throat… The establishment Mrs. Smith visited is a smallpox hospital.”
“Good—God! No wonder it is in the middle of nowhere!”
“Just so, my lord.”
Sir Antony returned to his dressing stool.
“Why visit a smallpox hospital…?”
“As to that, my lord, Mr. T and one of his associates are presently making a call on the domestic with whom Mrs. Smith had words.” Semper permitted himself to give a lopsided grin. “I am confident we shall know the answer to your question in a very short while indeed.”
“Excellent. Any other news?”
“After calling upon the smallpox hospital, Lady St. John’s carriage was followed to a laneway at the rear of Lord Salt’s Grosvenor Square house, where it remained stationary for some time.”
“What a hectic round of social calls!” Sir Antony murmured sarcastically and stuck out one foot then the other to allow the majordomo to affix the polished leather latches of his black shoes with diamond buckles.
“It was while the carriage remained stationary in the laneway, Mr. T observed a young domestic from Lord Salt’s household exit the garden gate at the back of the establishment and disappear into the laneway, whereupon, at the invitation of Mrs. Smith, who was pacing the cobbles, she entered the carriage. Approximately twenty minutes later, this domestic exited the carriage.”
“Man or woman?”
“Neither, my lord. A girl, and from her clothing and the overlarge cap with its frilly wings that hid her face, Mr. T surmised her to be employed in a very junior capacity…”
“Did she have an overabundance of hair?”
“As to that, I could not say, my lord,” Semper replied, startled by such a question.
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