by Jennifer Joy
“What will her brother think of this development?” he asked, hoping to get more information to help his case— and Miss Mauvier’s.
“He will be proud of her. Luc always has been careful to guide Adélaïde, so she would not always have to depend on him. Sometimes, I wish she were not so independent.” Sadness laced Aunt Beatrice’s sharp tone.
“It is not common for a lady to have such dealings. I am surprised she was able to manage this investment without the help of her brother. How extraordinary.” He could not ask directly, so he hinted at Miss Mauvier’s finances in the hopes that Aunt Beatrice could shed some light on it.
“She is not your average lady, in case you have not noticed by now. This has been her life’s dream since she was a little girl stitching costumes at Luc’s theater. I am certain she weighed the cost before committing herself, just as I am certain that she will succeed in her endeavor.”
“I share your confidence.” If Miss Mauvier was anything like him, she would have saved every penny she could to make her dream a reality. The advantage she had was the ability to earn more through her hard work. Richard could only hope for promotions and pray the allowance his family allotted him covered his monthly expenses, simple though they were. The more Richard contemplated it, the more convinced he became that she had leased the property with honest money.
Finally, dinner came to a close. Father stood to signal that it was time for the ladies to depart to the sitting room, for pipes to be lit, and brandy to be imbibed.
Richard needed to find a way to speak with Dovedale. He had to determine if he had lost his chance to improve his circumstances, and he wanted to see what Dovedale thought of Miss Mauvier’s news.
Moving closer, he sat beside Dovedale. Mr. Thorpe was nearby, so he would have to speak vaguely. Richard had never perfected the art of talking around an issue, preferring clear speech, but he had no other choice.
Unfortunately, he began, “Your wife is—” he could have smacked himself in the forehead. What good thing could he possibly say about Mrs. Dovedale? Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. Surely, that was not a snicker he heard from Mr. Thorpe. Dovedale looked irritated. “— a woman with strong… ideals.” Ideals, opinions, criticisms… “After spending a Season around ladies who have no opinions of their own, it is gratifying to listen to one who expresses herself so well.” There, his charm had not abandoned him completely.
Dovedale nodded, his face softening. “She does know what she wants out of life, very much like Miss Mauvier. She is a career woman if I ever met one.”
Mr. Thorpe pulled his chair closer. “I, for one, am happy for her. It is good for business to have a convenient location, where she will easily be found by more ladies seeking the latest fashion. I do not know much about those things, but I think her dress is lovely.”
Richard could not disagree with his friend, though he found it difficult to appreciate any compliments proceeding from the gentleman’s mouth toward Miss Mauvier.
Dovedale puffed out a cloud of smoke. “She must do rather well to afford this venture. Leasing an entire building in a prime neighborhood costs a pretty penny. She must have come into some money.”
Richard cringed at the implication. “From what she says, becoming a successful dressmaker and having her own shop has been her dream since she was a child. It would not surprise me to learn that she has set a sum aside for this venture. It is what I would do in her circumstances.”
“Nonsense. Women have no sense of finances, and I doubt Miss Mauvier is any different. It is the reason so many must marry. Without husbands to help them manage their fortunes, if they do indeed possess one, they would soon be in ruin. Look at your aunt Beatrice with her outdated bonnets and house which appears vacant from the outside. Pardon me for attaching your relative to such a vulgar subject, but you cannot convince me that she managed her inheritance well.”
“While I agree with your point that women of Society have little understanding of finances— after all, precious few are taught such practical wisdom— I am of a mind to think women of the working class have an advantage in this regard. My aunt, while she seems to prove your point to perfection, can hardly be used to measure every Englishwoman.”
“Ah, but Miss Mauvier is no Englishwoman. She is French.” Dovedale exhaled a long trail of smoke, through which his focus remained on Richard.
In a cheerful voice, Mr. Thorpe added, “And a lovely Frenchwoman she is too. I, for one, am glad for the variety in company. It improves one’s culture and world view, in my humble opinion.”
Dovedale said nothing. Nothing short of indisputable proof would free his mind of his condemnation of Miss Mauvier. To think that he had agreed with him, even on a small level, filled Richard with shame. Taking Mr. Thorpe’s lighthearted comment to advantage, Richard asked Dovedale to enlighten them on his travels. Having much to say on the subject, the time passed soon enough. They would join the ladies in the sitting room for some entertainment and conversation.
Hanging back, hoping to speak privately with Dovedale without appearing too eager, Richard let the other gentlemen leave the room first, fussing with his cravat to gain time. Dovedale took his leisure emptying his pipe and putting it back in its case.
They stood to follow, but paused at the door.
“I am disappointed in you, Colonel. Imagine finding out such a big piece of evidence against Miss Mauvier in a public setting when you have been in her company these past weeks.”
Richard held his breath to steady his nerves. “The very nature of her revelation convinces me that there is nothing untoward about her acquiring the property. Why should she expose herself willingly if she were guilty?”
“It is the same with all these saboteurs. They get away with their evil deeds for so long, they believe themselves immune. They take risks, rubbing it in our faces, until they hang themselves with a rope of their own creation. Miss Mauvier is no different, and it concerns me that you cannot see through her devices. I had thought you more discerning, Colonel. Perhaps I was wrong about your abilities.”
“No, sir,” blurted Richard.
“Need I remind you that only two weeks remain until the supplies leave for Spain? If anything goes wrong, Miss Mauvier will hang for it. There is too much evidence against her.”
“I cannot believe it of her. If only there was a way to convince you otherwise—”
“I am not the only one who needs convincing. Do not forget whom I work for. The Duke of York himself entrusts me to put the safety of our nation above all else. Are you willing to do the same? Rich rewards and promotions await you if you prove your loyalty to those deserving of it.”
Richard did not know how to respond. The best he could manage was to maintain eye contact with Dovedale, and hold his honor above the insinuations.
Taking one step closer, Dovedale said, “If you truly believe in the innocence of Miss Mauvier, you had better prove it soon. Otherwise, her blood is on your hands.”
Richard felt like his broody cousin, Darcy. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and there was no one he could trust to lighten the load. His mind reeled with plan after plan to free her. He longed to look at Miss Mauvier, to memorize her features, and brand them in his memory. When he indulged himself with a glance, the pain was too great to endure. What if he failed her?
Colonel Fitzwilliam acted strangely this evening.
Adélaïde had worn a dress she knew would flatter her in the candlelight, and his reaction had brought her much satisfaction when she entered the front parlor with Maman. He had looked at her like she was the most beautiful creature he had laid eyes upon.
But, he had avoided her for most of the evening. Occasionally, she felt his glance. It enveloped her like an embrace, warm and comforting. No harm could touch her whilst in the colonel’s presence. She could feel his regard, so why did he not seek her out?
Mr. Thorpe was as attentive as a gentleman would be, but his conversation did not interest her. She smile
d, and responded as she was supposed to, but her heart was not in it.
Was it her lack of a dowry? Adélaïde had learned better than to trust in the fickleness of riches. Jewels, property, and gold had done nothing to save her parents. So long as she worked with her hands and put away the excess of a good month, she could provide for herself. She was self-sufficient. She did not need anybody. But, she wanted Richard. Richard— she liked the sound of that so much better than ‘Colonel.’
As one of the ladies showed off her accomplishments at the piano forte, Adélaïde looked over her fan at Richard and began planning.
Chapter 19
Adélaïde ran her fingers over the cold, iron keys to her new dwelling and place of business, letting them cool her skin. She had a place all her own. Nobody could take it away, so long as she did not allow herself to fail. Failure was so far away, Adélaïde dismissed the word, refusing to let debilitating doubt cast a shadow over her perfect day.
She and Maman had not arrived home until the early hours of the morning, but there was much work to be done, and Adélaïde was eager to get to it. Besides, she had a plan— how to catch a colonel.
Yvette had stayed behind with some of the girls to oversee the present shop while Adélaïde and Mary, along with a handful of servants, began preparations in the new shop. They would focus their energies on the downstairs rooms, so that they could begin the transfer of the heavy furniture that same afternoon. Yvette informed each lady who came into the shop of their new location, which was met with relief on their part. Now, the fashionable ladies who frequented her shop could boast with all the other social elite who would not dare be seen away from the highly regarded Bond Street.
In celebration of her new acquisition, as well as to mark the space as her own, Adélaïde chose a few select pieces which would add the most benefit to her shop without completely depleting her hard-earned funds. Men climbed up on ladders, attaching the chandelier she had dreamily selected months ago. The clean crystals sparkled in the sunlight, and Adélaïde imagined how enchanting it would look with its candles lit, reflecting its flames in the mirrors.
The bell on the front door rang, announcing the arrival of Maman and a few of the girls from the shop.
Maman looked around her in wonder, her hand hovering over her heart and creeping up to her open mouth. “I thought your other shop lovely, Adélaïde, but this one has an elegance in it that takes my breath away.”
Adélaïde took the basket from Maman’s hands and looked at the girls.
Maman answered her unasked question. “I went to your shop at Luc’s. You have been working all hours here, and I wanted to send you something to celebrate and to fortify you. The girls were so kind as to accompany me. Yvette stayed with the others.”
“You have given me an idea. Your thoughtfulness makes me wish all my girls could be here. We could set up a table, and have a little party before we open the doors here for business.” Adélaïde tapped her bottom lip with the tip of her fingernail. “I do think that we could do it the day after tomorrow. I will have the final changing room and mirror brought over here in the morning. Then, all we have left is the fabric and each lady’s stool and work basket.”
Mary twirled around the floor, her dress poofing around her. “A party! Oh, how we will love to work here, miss. You will soon dress the finest ladies in town.”
Mary’s enthusiasm spread through the room, and it was decided. The day after tomorrow, the last of the big furniture would be brought over. The fabric would wait until last, as it needed to be handled with much care, and it was still in use.
Maman’s smile faded before long. “With all this excitement, you will want to occupy your own rooms soon.” Sighing, she added, “It is for the best. You already stay up all hours of the night working on your special gown and pelisse. You would get more rest if you lived near your work.”
Adélaïde, not insensitive to Maman’s feelings, reached for her knobby hands, warming them with her own. “I would not dream of leaving you before Luc and Anne’s return. That is, if you will have me.”
The pleasure in Maman’s face was answer enough. “Very well. I insist you use my coach as often as necessary. The distance is slightly greater, and I will not have you walking about unaccompanied.”
“I would like to see her just try.” Mary stood with her hands on her hips, taking Maman’s worry as a personal affront to any negligence on her part. “I would never let anything bad happen to Miss Adélaïde, not even from the vulture across the street.” She looked with pinched eyes to Miss Maven’s dress shop.
“Mary, I thank you for your concern for my safety. However, I do think you ought to be more gracious toward Miss Maven. She helped us secure this place.”
Mary mumbled unintelligibly. For some reason, the girl did not like Miss Maven. Their shops were only separated by the busy street, and Adélaïde would not have any of her girls make trouble for the lady who had helped them so kindly.
“We will discuss your attitude toward Miss Maven at greater length later. For now, I must get back to work. Mary, please show Maman and the other girls what we have been doing. They might like to see the upstairs rooms as well.”
Her spirits on high, Adélaïde continued arranging the rooms to her satisfaction, feeling fortunate that she could savor the achievement of her goals. And in the process, she would make certain Richard knew she was worth fighting for.
Richard cursed the day Dovedale sent for him. He cursed his short-sightedness. All he had seen was the promise of promotion, and a glimmer of the life he had dreamed of. Now, the bitter taste of guilt and disloyalty tainted his every action. Every proof he offered of Miss Mauvier’s innocence only served to incriminate her more, and his desperation to save her overshadowed his responsibility to his nation. His stubborn, emotional nature screamed her innocence ever stronger with each passing day.
How much easier his life would be if he took the value of human life lightly. Were he like dozens of other gentlemen of his acquaintance, he would go along with the accusations brought against Miss Mauvier, pat himself on the back when he received his promotion, and live an easy life in the good graces of those superior to him in rank. Richard’s stomach churned at the mere thought of betraying his honor. It was not in him to take the easy way out. He must do what was right.
He had found out where Miss Mauvier kept her money easily enough. What proved more difficult was finding out the nature of her transactions. A bribe the amount of one month’s wage to a greedy clerk bought a full report to be delivered at a busy tavern late that same afternoon.
To pass the time in a productive manner, Richard went back to Brick Lane only to hear Miss Mauvier’s praises sung just as they had been on his last visit. She bargained a fierce deal, but she had gained the respect of the hardened men from whom she purchased the smuggled goods.
One man in particular, Mr. Mulligan, the last man with whom Richard spoke, kept close-mouthed. Squinting his eyes, he looked cautiously at Richard. “What do you want to know for? Are you a detective or something? I’ve noticed you poking about.”
Figuring he had nothing to lose, Richard said, “I am a detective of sorts.” Stepping closer to the man, he dropped his voice so as not to be overheard. “Look, sir, I am a friend of Miss Mauvier, and she is in such a great deal of trouble. She is not aware, and I had hoped to help her, so that she need not be troubled. But, I need help.”
Mr. Mulligan crossed his arms. “What kind of trouble is she in?”
Richard had to say the words quickly, or he could not have pronounced them at all. “She could hang.”
Mr. Mulligan’s reaction was what Richard had prayed for. His eyes widened, and his arms loosened. His breaths came out in shallow bursts. “I would not sleep well at night if there was anything I could do to spare a life, and I did not take it. Tell me what you need to know, and we will see if I can help.”
“I was told that a smuggler attached her name to a lady who was later robbed in Paris. Evident
ly, the dress which was robbed contained valuable information that the French army used to their advantage.” Richard gave only the necessary details.
“You mean she is accused of selling information? To the French?” He whistled low.
“That is the accusation. Now you understand the gravity of the situation.”
“Why did you not speak plainly when you came here before?”
“I am not allowed to discuss the details openly and am taking on a considerable risk in trusting you right now. It is pure desperation which makes me speak so freely when I ought not.”
Once again, Mr. Mulligan crossed his arms. One hand massaged his chin, while he contemplated Richard before him.
Richard held his gaze. One way or another, he would get the information he needed. Now, he was certain Mr. Mulligan knew something.
“A man would sooner take on a whole army than see the woman he loves come to harm. Is that not so?” Mr. Mulligan’s eye twitched with the intensity in which he watched Richard’s response.
The man could have punched him in the stomach, his words had the same effect. His lungs out of air, Richard forced himself to breathe. In and out. In and out. Putting out one hand to brace himself against a brick building in the street, Richard answered from the bottom of his soul. “I would give my life for her.”
With a nod, Mr. Mulligan pulled Richard into a quiet side street. He looked around before he spoke. “I never thought much of it before now. Miss Mauvier is a handsome woman, and one of the fellas here took a liking to her. Now, in my opinion, she never did anything to encourage his affections, but one of the seamstresses she sends down here used the information to get better prices. She lured him on, promising him that she would help his suit if he would reduce the price of his Kashmir, or whatever else it was that he had to offer.”