Blanchard finished the smoke and stubbed the end against the wood of the boxes. He’d hold it in his hand until it was cool enough to pocket or there was a convenient bin to drop it in. “Maker turned up to a fight one night. He’d been to a few.”
Somehow that didn’t surprise Jenson. Blanchard’s old occupation had been arranging bare knuckle fights, running the books, scamming the punters. He’d been a successful promoter until someone else had wanted the gig. And Maker wanted to watch? That wasn’t a surprise either. The man had a taste for violence, and needed to learn better defence strategies.
“Then we got the shout that the peelers - no offence.”
“None taken.”
“Well the alert went up and we all scarpered, but Maker wasn’t in any condition to get out quickly enough. I thought he’d get himself nabbed, but he wasn’t like the rest of the audience.”
“He was, is a toff. No offence.”
“None taken. But he was never a toff like the other toffs, he never acted like he was better than the rest of us.”
Jenson agreed. “He has a wonderful knack for treating everyone like they’re special, no one above anyone else.”
“Exactly. Which probably explains his best friends.”
Jenson looked quizzically at Blanchard.
“Lord Haversham, the hunchback and Lady Tom Davenport.”
Having met both individuals, Jenson knew exactly what Blanchard meant. “Get past the initial hurdle of their appearance and their daring you to disapprove and you find two genuine, good people.”
“Yep.”
“Anyway, back to how you became a valet.”
“Well he wasn’t going to make it out on his own, so I showed him where to hide and we stayed there till it was clear.”
Maker a pugilist? Seemed out of character, but a good release. “How bad was his condition?”
“Five gruelling rounds and losing the last one.”
Jenson hung his head and shook it. Lasting four was good, but taking a fifth was foolish.
“We weren’t that far from the hole I was living in, so I took him there, patched him up. He hardly said a word.”
“When does he ever?”
Blanchard laughed. “You should hear him in Parliament. Get him in a debate and you wouldn’t know it was the same man.”
Jenson offered a small smile. He had seen Maker in action in the Lords and Blanchard was quite right, he did seem to be another man - the man he should be.
“Anyways, I patched him up and he looks around, rightly calls the place a hovel, not offensive like, just stating the fact, and he offered me the job as his valet. There wasn’t much future in what I was doing, not with… well, you know.”
He did; and getting out when Blanchard did was a good move.
“So, I grabbed what little was worth grabbing and went with him.”
“Leaving two month’s rent outstanding.”
“You goin’ to make something of that?”
“Nope, your landlord deserved all he got - or in your case didn’t get.”
For a moment, the two men just stood in silence, contemplating the past, present and future.
“How’s your investigations going?”
“Unfruitful,” Jenson admitted. “No one has a bad word to say about Stephen Russell, and none of them believe he would have walked out on his wife and son.”
Now Blanchard nodded. “That’s the story below stairs too. Except that there is one nugget that came up. Apparently, before he disappeared he got involved with some men - from the physical description, I think the leader was the Mr Quinn you’re after. He hasn’t been around for ages, but there is a man, known only as Vostock who turns up occasionally, who was part of the same lot. He might be worth sniffing out.”
“Description?”
Blanchard looked at him with raised brows. “Now you sound like Maker.”
“Sorry. Did you get a description?”
“Corse I did.” Blanchard grinned.
Jenson knew that the other man was waiting to be asked, so he didn’t ask. Blanchard rolled his eyes.
“Five nine or ten. Thick set. Doesn’t always shave. Weirdly, he has a strong West Country accent.”
Now Jenson’s brows rose. “With a name like Vostock.”
“I did mention it was weird.”
“True.” Jenson thought about it, filing the details away for later. “Thank you.” He pushed away from the crates.
“People change, you know.”
Jenson looked back at Blanchard, not entirely sure what the man was getting at. “You seem to have.”
“Maker. He’s changed. The last few months, since he met Miss Forester. Just occasionally I see hope in his eyes. She just might save him.”
Jenson ignored the sinking feeling in his gut. “She just might.”
Chapter 29
Jade. Here!
Seeing Jade again after so long of not knowing where he was or even if he was still alive, had thrown what was already an emotional day into total disarray for Amethyst. She could hardly believe that her twin was back in her life and she couldn’t bear the idea that she might lose him again. She had to keep touching him just to make sure that it wasn’t a delusion, that he really was there.
Eventually, of course, Montgomery had come back for them and Great-Aunt Flora reminded her of her duty to her host. Amethyst thanked him for reuniting her and her twin, but still couldn’t bring herself to answer his question. He offered an arm, and thankfully Great-Aunt Flora took it. Amethyst moved to the other side of the old woman, feeling the need for a barrier between her and the world right now. Fragile wasn’t the way she usually considered herself, but right now, it was how she felt.
They joined the rest of the group in the only hostelry in the village for a buffet lunch and had been served with marvellous cold cuts, breads and lots of other things that Amethyst didn’t feel like eating. She took a little bread and ham, nibbled what she could. Too many thoughts warred in her head for her stomach to get much attention. It hadn’t been so terribly comfortable when Monty had squeezed in to make sure that they were together, his arm along the back of her chair was all too possessive. The fact that he had stepped out for a few minutes actually gave her breathing space. Though she suspected he was smoking and that wasn’t a smell she particularly enjoyed.
“That Jenson is terribly rude.”
Chalmers’ conversation had been boorish and belittling of Sharnwick, but Amethyst had let such pomposity pass so far. That comment though couldn’t go unanswered. “There is absolutely nothing lacking in Jenson’s manners.” It wasn’t easy, but she bit back the rejoinder that she couldn’t say the same thing about Sir Giles or his family.
“He threatened to arrest my wife!”
“No, he simply reminded her that it is his job to arrest anyone he thinks is plotting treason.”
“And he neglects his host.”
That retort was so weak, she knew she’d won the first point.
“Where is he? He should be here.” Sir Giles swept a hand, the one full of a half-eaten chicken leg, around the company.
“He’s out doing the job he came here to do. Being rude would be to hang around like a dead weight imposing constantly on his host, demanding attention.” It didn’t look like that got through any thick skin.
“We must allow that a good servant should do the job for which they are being paid,” Violet said airily. “If Monty is happy he’s getting his money’s worth, we all should be.”
“Jenson is a servant of the state and the law, not of one man,” said Amethyst. “Monty isn’t paying for his investigation. No one is. Jenson is here because I asked him to come and help out. If you consider that rude, perhaps you need to rethink your definition.” She could think of a number of ways that could redefine it for the Chalmers’ and perhaps then they would see the error of their own ways. Experience of the middle classes had taught her it was unlikely; exposure to the upper classes was only lessening the proba
bility.
What she felt most was the pressure of Great-Aunt Flora’s cane above her foot, a warning weight only. Once she stopped talking and returned her attention to her own meal, the weight of the cane shifted, though the weight of Great-Aunt Flora’s gaze did not. That assessment was continuing. She’d noticed it a few times over the last few days. Great-Aunt Flora watched her closely, figuring her out. Amethyst wasn’t sure she’d changed, but she was even less confident that she was pleasing Great-Aunt Flora either, and Flora’s good opinion was one that actually matter to her.
She leaned towards her aunt. “I’ll do better. Promise.”
Now the look of assessment was under a frown. Perhaps Great-Aunt Flora didn’t think she was capable of doing better.
Worried about Great-Aunt Flora, Amethyst left her own room to speak to the old lady. She was two steps from the haven of her room when she realised someone was coming the other way. She looked up at Violet. Pinched features and clenched fists. This was exactly the kind of confrontation she desperately tried to avoid. It was also the kind of thing that was completely inevitable. She heard Gladstone at her ankles hiss at the other woman. Violet’s lip curled in mutual distain.
“Miss Forester.”
“Lady Fother‒”
“Don’t you interrupt me.”
Amethyst hadn’t, but sometimes even she recognised it was best to just take the lumps, and she had promised Great-Aunt Flora that she would do better. She’d let Violet say what she wanted, but she wouldn’t let the woman think she was cowed. Being shorter meant she had to look up, but she stood straight, chin up and looked Violet in the eye.
“How dare you?”
Amethyst was tempted to ask her precisely what she thought she was daring, but Violet would probably only accuse her of interrupting again.
“Well? Nothing to say for yourself? But then how can you defend the indefensible?”
Stay calm.
She wasn’t feeling in the least calm. “I’m sure I’d try if I had any idea what you were prattling about.”
“Prattling!? You’re just determined to increase the insult, aren’t you? Is tempting my husband to your bed not enough for you?”
Her breath was dragged in through a clenched jaw. “I have done no such thing!”
“Wouldn’t do any good if you were, he’s incapable of acting like a man.”
“Well I’m sure you’d have more room to judge than I would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The temptation to put the older woman in her place was great. You promised to do better. Apparently, she couldn’t. “You are married to one of the best men in England, perhaps you should spend more effort pleasing him than you do pleasing every other available man. Or woman.” She strode forward, and Violet could get out of her way or get walked over. It seemed that even Violet had the sense to step aside.
“That cat should go back on the scrap heap where you found it. So should you.”
The parting shot straightened Amethyst’s back and she turned, ready to respond, but Violet was already walking away.
You promised Maker not to fight with her. You promised Great-Aunt Flora you’d do better.
Tension thrummed through every nerve and fibre as she swung away and stalked to Flora’s room. She tried to knock lightly, but realised too late that she hadn’t.
“Who is it?” Clearly an unimpressed tone.
“It’s me, Great-Aunt Flora. It’s Amethyst.”
“You’d best come in then, deary.”
Trying unsuccessfully to push the tension away, Amethyst opened the door, stepped in and with great care closed the door behind her. Gladstone was already on the bed.
“Oh dear.”
She couldn’t turn, she wasn’t sure she could face Great-Aunt Flora in such shame. So she looked at the wood of the door instead. She could hear cat puddening and purring.
“You settle down.”
She hoped Great-Aunt Flora was talking to the cat. “And you.” Now she thought Great-Aunt Flora was talking to her. “That took you far too much effort.” The sound of a hand patting something soft that wasn’t a cat caught Amethyst’s ear. “Come sit beside me, deary. Tell your Great-Aunt Flora what’s happened.”
Swallowing the tears that were threatening, Amethyst turned, head hung and moved over to sit next to Great-Aunt Flora on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. She recounted what had happened with Violet, tears falling by the end of it.
“I’m sorry, I’m just so angry. I know I promised to be better and all I’ve done is make things worse.”
Her hands were clenched in her lap, Great-Aunt Flora patted them with one hand as the other went around Amethyst’s shoulder to draw her into the older woman, where she rested her head on a bony shoulder.
“Well, deary. I don’t know who you were promising to be better for, you’ve always been the best in my eyes. And that madam Violet, she deserves a lot worse than you gave her. She’ll get a lot worse if I ever hear her spout such bile.”
“Oh no, Great-Aunt Flora, please don’t. She deserves it, but Maker doesn’t.”
She felt a squeeze on her shoulder. “No, he doesn’t, poor lamb. But he made his choice. He chose to marry, he chooses to stay married, though why is anyone’s guess. You didn’t choose any of this and you definitely don’t deserve to be spoken to that way.”
“I’ll survive.” Amethyst made herself sit up, wipe the tears from her face and look at her great aunt. “Thank you.” The hug wasn’t as quick as she’d intended it to be. “I love you, Great-Aunt Flora, and even if I niggle about you being my chaperone sometimes, I’m very glad to have you with me.”
The old woman was smiling as they each sat straighter, though there was water in her eyes too. She cupped Amethyst’s face in both hands. “I love you too. Dearest of dearies.”
“Then why do you keep looking at me of late like you’re not sure who I am anymore.”
Her cheeks were patted. “Oh, I know who you are. Not sure you do.”
Amethyst searched Great-Aunt Flora’s face for a clue. “What do you mean?”
Great-Aunt Flora considered for a moment. “Do you know why I told you not to wear that dress again without my permission?”
“Judging by the dirty looks I was getting from the ladies, I suppose because I looked terrible in it. Why are you rolling your eyes?”
“You noticed the way the women were looking at you?”
She thought about that evening. “Yes. All except Bobbie, but she’s not about to judge me. And Eugenie, though in fairness she looked a little shocked at first. Covered it well, but then she does, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does. That’s how she’s managed with Violet Maker all these years. But my point was, did you not notice the way the men were looking at you?”
Again, Amethyst stopped to think about it. “Well Maker was his usual expressionless self, though I think he was glad I was there. But I often think that. Jenson looked at me the way he always looks at me. Montgomery was a little more animated, I suppose, but that was because the Chalmers’ had arrived and he was welcoming his guests.” She shrugged and looked back at Great-Aunt Flora, not understanding what the older woman meant. “It was nothing out of the ordinary?”
“What about the way Lovesey and Sir Giles Chalmers looked at you?”
She swallowed. “Well yes, that was a little uncomfortable, but it just seems to be their way.”
“Oh dear. Bobbie was right, you really don’t know, do you?”
“Now I’m confused.” Amethyst felt like a fool. “What don’t I know?”
“About men. I would have expected your mother to have talked to you about the way things happen between men and women.”
Amethyst smiled. “My mother, no. Well, a little, but Sapphire has spoken to me about it. In eye-watering detail. I understand the act of lovemaking, Great-Aunt Flora, just because I haven’t experienced it, doesn’t mean I don’t know about it.”
<
br /> “But what do you know of love? Or even lust?”
She hung her head. “No man is ever going to love me, that’s been made perfectly clear. Besides, I don’t need a man anymore, Professor Richards made sure of that when he left me his house and his fortune.”
“He also made sure you would have a man in your life by leaving half that house to Maker. Which puts everyone in a very awkward position.”
“Yes, I know.” She looked away. What was happening with Violet was at least in part because of that. She sighed and looked at Great-Aunt Flora. “I like Maker, you know I do. Perhaps a little more than like. But he’s married, beyond reach.”
“You really think marriage will stop a man?”
“From being interested in me?” She smiled. “Yes! Especially Maker. He’d never break his vows, he’s a man of his word.”
“So, who was it I caught kissing you in the library?”
Heat rushed to her face, burning her. Thoughts of fire and brimstone filled her mind. “Oh Lord, I’m going to Hell for that.”
“Probably not.” Great-Aunt Flora’s words made her realise she’d spoke aloud. An older hand pattered hers again. “Amethyst, Maker is a good man, and he will do the right thing. But he is married and you must put him out of your mind as much as possible. In truth, Maker is not the real problem. The reason I don’t want you wearing that dress is that you looked absolutely beautiful in it. And everyone in the room knew it. There was a danger of all others being crushed in the stampede to get to you.”
The scoff was instinctive and unladylike. Amethyst covered her mouth and nose as she blushed in shame again. “Sorry.”
“What you seem to fail to realise is just how attractive men find you. That innocence actually makes you all the more attractive to the wrong kind of man. Men like Lovesey. You need to be a bit more careful while we’re here. While you remain unmarried. You are too much of a prize to be risked.”
“And you are too kind, Great-Aunt Flora. And there’s something I need to tell you.” But as she tried to tell her, she couldn’t find the words, drawing her lip between her teeth instead.
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