by Mary Nichols
The man stopped laughing. ‘And supposin’ you tell me what you really want with Nat Kingslake, Mr Whatever your name is, for I do not believe it is Thomas Smith.’
Ash did not think it wise to supply his real name. ‘When are you due on board? Have you time to join me in a quart of ale? It might be to our mutual advantage.’
‘I ha’ got half an hour, then I’ve to get aboard. We sail on the tide.’ He pointed to a dingy-looking building tacked on the side of a warehouse. ‘I’ll take a sup with you there.’
Most taverns in the area were dirty, ill lit and stinking, but this was worse than usual. Trying not to breathe the fumes or show his distaste, he followed the man into its smoke-filled interior and they sat down in a corner. Ash called the tavern keeper over to them and ordered ale.
‘Tell me what you know about Nathaniel Kingslake,’ he said, when they had the pots in front of them. ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’
‘First, you tell me why you want to know. You ain’t his guv’nor, I do know that.’
‘So you do know him?’
‘I didn’t say that. You gotta give me chapter an’ verse afore I say a word. For all I know you could be from the Revenue.’
‘I give you my troth, I’m not.’ He paused and decided the truth would do. ‘Fact is, he disappeared from his home at Narbeach a week ago and his family are worried sick about him. We heard he’d boarded the Sally Ann.’
The man took a long pull at his ale. He was still suspicious. ‘Wha’s it to you?’
‘I am betrothed to his sister and she’s blaming me for his disappearance. I’ve got to put her mind at rest or the wedding’s off.’
The man laughed again and drained his pot. ‘Gentry mort, is she?’
‘You’ve met Nat, so you know the answer to that. She is a gentlewoman.’ He signalled to the tavern keeper to bring more ale, though he had only pretended to drink from his own tankard. It was too dirty to put to his mouth.
‘What’s her name?’ his companion demanded. ‘Her given name, I mean.’
Ash did not hesitate. If Nat had talked about his sister, he would probably have named her. ‘Philippa, but she’s known as Pippa or Pip to family and friends.’
‘Hmm. You could be on the level…’
‘I am. Do you know where Nat is?’
‘No, but I can give ’im a message if I was to see ’im.
‘In other words, when he reports back on board. Unless he’s already aboard.’
‘You want to know too much, you do. I’ll give ’im a message, but tha’s all I’ll do if’n I see ’im and if’n you make it worth my while, o’ course.’
Ash produce a guinea from his capacious pocket and slid it across the table towards the sailor, though he kept his finger on it. ‘Tell him his sister is worried to death about him and wishes he would come home. His cousin, Ben, has been arrested and she needs him to help extricate the boy. Sir Felix can’t keep the judiciary off him much longer. He won’t try either if he doesn’t get his next cargo safe and sound.’ This last statement was a shot in the dark; he had no idea when the next consignment of contraband was due in Narbeach or whether the mention of Sir Felix would have any effect. Surprisingly, it seemed to make the man more talkative, or perhaps it was the ale loosening his tongue.
‘Sir Felix!’ He spat on the floor, already ingrained with filth. ‘He can whistle. He ain’t paid the crew for the last voyage. He said we’d get it when he was paid for it, but we ain’t seen ’ide nor ’air on it, nor of ’im. If Nat hadn’t give us somethin’ on account, we’d ha’ refused to sail ag’in.’
‘Nat paid you?’ Ash asked, surprised. ‘Where did he get the money to do that?’
‘I dunno, do I? I reckon it were what Sir Felix give ’im to buy cognac and tobacco in Calais.’
‘He is Sir Felix’s go-between?’
‘Some o’ the time.’ He struck his forehead with the heel of his thumb. ‘But, I just recollected he said Sir Felix aimed to marry his sister.’
‘Sir Felix may aim to do what he pleases. The lady has chosen me.’ He had said he was betrothed to Pippa in order to give credence to his story and justify his questions and no doubt he would pass that on to Nat if he saw him. What would the young man make of it? he wondered. Deny it or rush home to ascertain the truth? And what would Pippa say when she heard it? No doubt she would be furious. And would it reach the ears of Sir Felix?
The man laughed. ‘Good on ’er. But that could be a dangerous move. Sir Felix don’t like bein’ thwarted.’
‘I can manage that gentleman, so long as you get that message to Nat.’ He took his finger off the guinea. ‘My future felicity depends on it.’ He was aware as he spoke how near the truth that was.
The seaman laughed again, pocketed the coin and stood up. ‘I’ll be goin’ on board now. We sail on the morning tide.’
‘Where to?’
He shrugged. ‘The Cap’n don’t confide in the likes o’ me, mister. But I reckon as we’re to take on wool when we get down the river, it’ll be the Netherlands.’
Ash nodded and watched him go. Then he set off back home, striding along the noisome streets, picking his way over the rubbish and keeping a careful watch out for thieves and cut-throats.
He was in a devil of a fix. Nathaniel Kingslake was a smuggler, he did not doubt it. He thought he had had problems enough before—now they were a hundred times worse. Should he tell Pippa what he had learned? While there was a chance that Nat had been taken against his will and was innocent of smuggling, he could hope to keep her good opinion of him, but that seemed unlikely now. She knew he was one of the Piccadilly Gentlemen and committed to maintaining law and order, she would see him as her brother’s enemy and by that token hers, too, however innocent she herself was. On the other hand, if Nat went home of his own accord with some tale about being taken prisoner, could he, in all conscience, let it go, pretend to believe him? That was not the way of the Society for the Discovery and Apprehending of Criminals to which he had sworn loyalty. And it would not help to apprehend Sir Felix who, if cornered, would undoubtedly betray Nat.
He had reached Pall Mall while he was musing, a good half-hour walk and yet he had not even noticed where he was going or how he had reached home. He sighed and went up the steps to let himself in. Dawn was breaking and in five hours’ time he was to call for Miss Kingslake and escort her and her cousin to join the others in Hyde Park. Already crowds were making their way there to find a good place from which to view the parade and the arrival of the king and his young wife. George III was far more popular than his Hanoverian predecessors, having been born in England and speaking English as his native tongue, which they had not.
He went up to his bedchamber, then stripped off all his clothes, which would certainly need the attention of his valet if the smell that clung to them was to be eradicated. He ordered Mortimer to wake him at half past eight with a dish of hot chocolate and plenty of hot water, then threw himself naked on his bed. He had learned over the years that to deprive oneself of sleep because one had a problem that needed solving was not the way to do it. By sleeping on it, he very often found when he woke he had the solution in his head. Consequently he was soon gently snoring.
From the window of her room Pippa saw the crowds already making their way along the street to the park, hundreds of them: men, women and children in all manner of garb from the glorious creations of London’s best mantua makers and tailors, to the colourful uniforms of soldiers and sailors, from the fustian clothes of the artisan to the rags of beggars and street urchins. This was going to be a huge affair, much bigger than she had realised and her hopes fell; the chances of finding her brother among them was like finding a needle in a haystack. Not even the Piccadilly Gentlemen could do that.
She dressed in a pink-and-white striped muslin round dress without a train so that it would be easy to walk and the hem would not become soiled. She had a matching parasol, though she was not sure she would need it; the day was overcast,
as so many had been this summer.
When Ash arrived at ten o’clock, she was waiting with Eleanor in the drawing room. He was dressed simply in a plain cloth coat, waistcoat and small clothes, all in grey, with a plain white shirt and simply knotted muslin cravat. Simple it might have been but it had been put together by one of London’s finest tailors and no one could mistake its elegance. He wore his own hair tied back and carried a tricorne, which he flourished in a bow to the ladies. ‘Good morning, ladies,’ he said cheerfully. ‘The crowds are already gathering, so shall we go? Keep very close to me, I beg you, or you will be trampled underfoot. I have arranged for two footmen to accompany us with staves. It will be safer.’
‘Sir Ashley, you are alarming me,’ Eleanor said. ‘Is there danger?’
‘It is but a precaution,’ he told her. ‘And when we meet the others at the Hyde Park Gate, we will be a large party and not to be trifled with. Do not bring money or valuables—that would be inviting trouble.’
They made their way to the street where he offered both his arms. ‘Now, ladies one each side of me.’
They took his arms and the footmen ranged themselves alongside and thus they merged into the crowds moving westwards along Piccadilly. There was a great deal of good-humoured pushing and shoving, but Pippa and Eleanor clung to Ash and he was like a bulwark, taking the knocks for them.
‘I am certainly glad to have your escort, Sir Ashley,’ Pippa said. ‘We should never get through this without you.’
‘Glad to be of service,’ he said cheerfully. His sleep had not produced the answer to his dilemma he had hoped for. In truth, it had been beset by bad dreams in which he was searching for something he could not find and becoming more and more panic-stricken as something hideous and dark threatened him and those he loved. Nor had he decided whether to tell Pippa what he knew about Nat. That all had to be put to one side in order to act the gallant and make sure the ladies enjoyed their day safely.
The other Piccadilly Gentlemen and their wives were waiting as arranged. ‘I have reserved seats for us all,’ James said, indicating tiers of wooden seats, which had been hastily erected and would give a good view of the proceedings. ‘Shall we take our places before the crush makes it impossible?’
Pippa did not think the park could get any more crowded, but she was wrong. Thousands upon thousands crammed in, trying to push their way to the ropes that would give them a good view. And they were noisy, too, shouting and screaming at each other, struggling to keep their feet. Safe above them Pippa, between Ash and Eleanor, could look about her, searching for Nat, and though she thought all of London must be there, she realised it was hopeless. She turned to look at Sir Ashley, but he had left his seat and was standing at the end of the row talking earnestly to a lady in a rose-pink gown whose generous padding made her much too wide for the narrow space.
‘What do you think you are at?’ Ash demanded angrily.
‘Looking for you, Ash, dearest,’ she said sweetly, smiling up at him. ‘I felt sure you would be here.’
‘I thought I made it clear to you that our arrangement is at an end,’ he said.
‘All over a green boy.’ She reached up to touch his cheek with her gloved hand. ‘Ash, darling, I did not think you could be so jealous. I am truly flattered, but there is no need, really there is not. I will be good from now on, I promise.’ She looked up the row to where Pippa sat. ‘Is that…?’ Her lip curled. ‘Is that what you have been reduced to? No, you would not insult me by attaching yourself to a dowd like that.’
How Ash stopped himself from shaking her and tumbling her down the steps to the ground, he did not know. ‘Miss Kingslake is worth a thousand of you,’ he said angrily.
‘Really? Miss Kingslake—I must remember that name.’
Too late he regretted mentioning it. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘It is useful to know where the opposition is coming from. Does she know about you and me?’
‘What is there to know?’
‘Why, that we are as good as married already. It wants only the little matter of a church and a parson. You cannot deny that.’ It was said loudly so those about them could hear her.
‘If I had been so foolish as to make you an offer, then certainly I would not deny it,’ he hissed at her. ‘But you know perfectly well no such offer was made. Now you can make it known that we have decided amicably to part or I shall be obliged to publish the truth. The choice is yours. Now, oblige me by returning to your seat.’
Whether she would have gone if someone behind them had not shouted that they were blocking the view and the carriages were arriving, he did not know. She went back to her place and Ash rejoined Pippa.
She longed to ask who the woman was, but did not dare. Whoever she was, was on intimate terms with him, judging by the way she reached up to touch his cheek. Could it have been Mrs Thornley? Her heart seemed to contract into a tight little ball and she found breathing difficult. As for Sir Ashley, he was looking decidedly uncomfortable and well he might. Eleanor’s expression was one of disapproval and the other ladies were chatting among themselves pretending not to have noticed, although they undoubtedly had and there would be more gossip. It quite spoiled the outing for Pippa.
She watched the king’s entourage of carriages draw up and the occupants leave them to take their places. And then the sound of music heralded the arrival of the marching troops. It was a colourful parade, with the soldiers in uniforms of almost every colour of the rainbow, their accoutrements sparkling in the weak sunshine that dared to peep out from behind the clouds. The crowds stood and cheered. As those sitting in the grandstand rose, the whole edifice wobbled and the next minute it had collapsed like a pack of cards, taking its occupants with it in a tangle of splintered wood, torn clothes and broken limbs, accompanied by screams. There was nothing they could do to save themselves.
Pippa found herself on the ground with Ash’s body stretched across hers. Nearby someone was groaning and a little farther off a man was cursing. She lay there, unable to move, wondering if she had been badly injured for she could feel no pain. Ash’s face, so close to her own, looked grey and his eyes were shut. ‘Ash,’ she whispered, fearing the worst and realising at that moment if he were to die, she would want to die too. ‘Ash.’
He stirred and his eyes opened. ‘Pippa.’
‘Thank God,’ she said, breathless because his weight was bearing down on her chest. ‘You are alive. Are you hurt?’
‘I don’t think so. Not badly, anyway.’ There was a lump of wood across his back, which was pinning him on top of her, and he could not move it. ‘I’m sorry I cannot relieve you of my presence. Are you hurt?’
‘No, I do not think so. What of the others?’
‘I don’t know.’
People had run from all around to extricate those who had been sitting in the stand and were hauling at planks of wood and broken seats and freeing those who were trapped. And all the time the music and the marching went on. The wood, which turned out to be one of the main supports of the stand and very heavy, was taken off Ash’s back and he rolled off her and lay on his back on the grass, trying to get his breath.
Pippa, who had seen the beam the rescuers had carried away, was convinced Ash’s back had been broken. No one, however strong, could have that weight on them and not be badly injured. She was acutely aware that if he had not thrown himself on top of her as they fell, she would have been crushed. All she had suffered were bruises. She knelt up and leaned over him. ‘Ash, oh, Ash, what can I do? How can I help you? You saved my life.’
He grinned, though his back was hurting like hell. ‘Humbug.’
‘It is not humbug. That great beam would have killed me. I wonder it did not kill you.’
‘I am not so easily got rid of, my dear. I will be as right as ninepence as soon as I have my breath back.’
That proved to be on the optimistic side. When he tried to sit up he found he could not. The only other injured among their friends was Capt
ain Carstairs who, like Ash, had tried to save the ladies and been hit by a falling seat. He was wandering about in a daze with a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head, unsure where he was. The others were badly bruised, the men more than the ladies, whose padded skirts and tight stomachers had saved them from worse damage. Pippa saw Mrs Thornley pick herself up and replace her wig, which had fallen off, before rushing over to Ash, throwing herself down beside him, all solicitous concern. ‘Ash, Ash, darling, how bad is it? I am here, I shall look after you.’ She looked up at the men. ‘Take him to my house.’
‘Madam,’ James said, addressing her in his most imperious voice, which, if the situation had not been so serious, might have made Pippa laugh, considering his wig was askew and he had blood and bits of grass stuck on one side of his face, ‘leave the gentleman to us and go about your business.’
‘He is my business and I will not leave him.’
There followed a most undignified scuffle in which James and Harry tried to hustle her away and she struggled to remain. Ash was too hurt to take part and simply stared at them. Pippa, watching, wondered if he would have defended the woman if he could.
‘Come, Pippa,’ Eleanor said. ‘Let us ladies find those footmen and go home. I could do with a strong restorative. The men will look after Ash.’
Ash was carried off on a stretcher by James and Harry, accompanied by Jonathan and Alexander. Mrs Thornley had gone off in a huff, so Pippa allowed herself to be led away.
‘I said you might have something to write about, did I not?’ Rosamund commented, taking Pippa’s arm. ‘But we could not have foretold this, could we?’
‘No. I am truly worried about Sir Ashley.’
‘Of course you are. We all are. When the men have taken him home and he has been seen by the sawbones, they will come and tell us how he does.’
‘He saved my life.’ She could not get what he had done out of her head. How could she consider him her enemy now? And yet Mrs Thornley’s words echoed in her brain. She never felt more confused in her life.