He stared at her a moment, suddenly seeing the person in front of him realign into his sister, and he felt himself grow angrier with every second.
“Blast it, Georgiana,” he said, standing up. “What are you playing at?”
“I know. It is quite a remarkable transformation, isn’t it? I really should have been an actress, I think,” she said, and smiled. “I quite enjoy this. Do you know I spent the last two days studying the way men walk and talk, and it all comes down to attitude. It’s fascinating, really.”
She had dropped the American accent, and stood before him, her hands on her protruding stomach. He sat down heavily in his chair again, as he realized his sister was walking around London disguised as a young American gentleman. He watched her now, strutting across his floor imitating a man’s stride.
“See, this is a man’s walk,” she said and crossed the room. “And this is a lady, smaller steps, different posture, but not so hard after you get it.”
“You have taken leave of your senses.”
“No, I’ve not. I fooled you after all, and you are my brother. It doesn’t come much closer than that, except for my own mother. I did not fool her. I called on you at home this morning first, hoping to catch you there and was shown into the drawing room. Mother knew instantly, and she fainted right away from the shock of scandal, I imagine. Poor Adkins was bent over her, trying to revive her but she was out cold.”
“You think this some kind of game?” he said angrily.
“Not at all. I take it quite seriously. Oh come now, Charles, you know as a woman I cannot open a bank account without Edward’s permission, and if he knew about my money he would gamble it all away in one night.”
“You do not seriously think I will help you do this?”
“Of course I do. You are my brother. It’s what brothers are for.”
“And as such, I must advise you on the foolish nature of this scheme.”
“Foolish is allowing Edward to gamble every cent I make.”
“Money you make from smuggling, Georgiana. Another foolish endeavor that did I do my duty as your brother, I would have stopped forthwith.”
“So I smuggle. What of it?” she asked. “Had I been allowed as a woman to find work or open a business of my own, I would do so. But having those avenues closed to me, I am left with no choice.”
“Your choice was to marry Edward.”
“Again, not my choice,” she said. “Had I not, mother would have denied giving birth to Jane and Margaret.”
“I think you misjudged her,” he said. “She would never have done that to you or them.”
Georgiana studied him, keeping her silence.
“I just don’t believe it,” he said, struggling with his own thoughts. “Why would she do that?”
“I always thought she hated me, even as a child, and I imagine it was her chance to rid herself of my company. However, I think primarily she did not want me to tell you about our dear Papa. She protected his good name even after his death because it was also her good name and Mother’s only true love is society. She was afraid, because she was not sure what you would do, if you knew. She needn’t have bothered though, for you did exactly nothing.”
She had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.
“That is not fair,” he said softly. “I have tried my utmost to do what is best for us all.”
“Opening my own bank account is best for me,” she said. “Help me.”
“And allow you to jaunt around London dressed as a man?”
“If needs must, yes.”
“You are quite manipulative, dear sister.”
“I like to think of it as creativity, and it’s one of the few advantages we women have, and I mean to exploit it,” Georgiana said.
He watched her, hesitating to say more. He both admired and hated just how clever she had been.
Georgiana sighed and sat down in the chair again leaning her head back against it, and rubbing her forehead. “Please, Charles. I have no one else I can count on.”
“Why do you want to get into Whites?”
“To find Arnaude, of course.”
“The Frenchman?”
“Indeed. It is the perfect hideout. You yourself spend many hours there talking about your day, do you not? If I cannot find the man at Ravenstone, I believe I will find him there. It must be the source of all his information.”
“I would have thought the Major had given up on this particular man by now.”
“He has arrested two of my boys, and lest I give him results soon he will arrest more.”
Charles stood and walked toward the window, looking out at the street beyond. “I won’t allow it.”
“Won’t allow what?” she asked, puzzled.
“The Major to so use you,” he said, frustrated, and turned back to her. “How dare he?”
“Not much we can do about him right now. I have tried to ignore him, for the most part, placated him as best I could, but he does hold a serious threat over me and now means to make good on it.”
“You should never have agreed to it, and you most certainly should not be smuggling to begin with.”
“Must we always return to that?” she sighed. “See here, I can take care of the Major myself.”
“Like you took care of dear Papa?”
“No, I should hope not,” she said. “Price is not the immediate threat. I’m more concerned with Edward right now.”
“You mean because you are with child.”
“I mean because trying to seduce one’s own husband seems far more complicated than I had anticipated. In my own defense, I can only say that I lack certain qualities he seems to prefer, but still with Rupert’s existence as proof that it is possible, I had hoped for more progress by now.”
Charles shook his head at her, and then laughed. It was a strained laugh more cynical than funny.
“Christ, Georgiana, you live a complicated life.”
“It is quite fatiguing, I don’t mind telling you,” she said, shaking her head. “I fear even my smuggling success will not keep Edward out of debtors’ prison for long. Do you know he has gone and refurbished the entire town house? He has acquired more horses and a barouche. I do not know where he thinks the money will come from. Has he approached you to settle his accounts?”
“No,” Charles said. “I have had no financial dealings with him other than having settled his debt upon your marriage as agreed by father.”
She turned to look out the window. “Where could I find his creditors?”
“I can make some discreet inquiries, if you like.”
“I fear he will sink Ravenstone, and all I hold dear there,” she said, turning to him, her voice melancholy.
He studied her a moment, then finally said, “And opening this secret bank account will help?”
“Yes, don’t you see?” she said, desperately. “I must have money of my own that neither he nor his creditors know about. I cannot allow him to destroy everything.”
“I can see no other way round it,” he said finally. “Let’s get this over with.”
She jumped up and kissed him on the cheek, “Thank you, Charles. You won’t regret it.”
“I regret it already.”
Sir Charles and Mr. Hughes left the bank and strolled down Fleet Street, avoiding a milkmaid with her churns of milk that hung from the yoke on her shoulder. Winter had set in and a light snow fell, settling briefly on hats and shoulders before melting away. A woman was making brisk business selling hot apples that she baked on her charcoal stove. They stepped around her and her customers. A tradesman cried out his skill at mending chairs, the rushes in his arms as he waited for someone to hire him. Charles on several occasions was forced to slow his pace or wait while Mr. Hughes examined a vendor’s wares. His sister was fascinated by all sorts of sights from live rabbits to the sand used for cleaning floors. She asked far too many questions, and Charles frowned, wondering if she could possibly understand any of the answers provided, for he understood littl
e of the accent the common people used.
“Mr. Hughes, I am a busy man,” he said as once again he was forced to pause beside yet another vendor.
“Sorry, Sir Charles, I won’t be but a minute,” she said in the low pitch of a man’s voice.
Charles sighed, and strolled a few steps away to lean against a newly installed street lamp, his hands on his walking stick. He watched the phantoms and carriages pass and admired the fine horse of a young gentleman who rode it with far too much carelessness, pulling terribly at the poor creature’s mouth.
“I do beg your pardon,” Mr. Hughes said. “But it is all so fascinating to me.”
“Do they not have street vendors in the New World, Mr. Hughes?”
“Indeed, they do,” said Mr. Hughes, his accent thick. She gave a good chuckle for affect. “However, we in America have stores where most goods are sold. It is quaint to see such vendors in sophisticated London.”
Charles wondered if men really did sound so pompous, and followed his sister down the street. Her imitation was rather good, he had to admit. She had completely fooled him, after all. The managers at the bank had suspected nothing, especially when Mr. Hughes had pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. He had watched his sister with fascination as she filled the room with smoke, as if she had the habit her entire life. The manager was annoyed at the brash young American’s speech and habits, but he never for one moment doubted his gender.
“St. James’s Street is this way,” Charles called out and pointed down the street they must take.
Mr. Hughes fell into step with him again.
“Georgiana, this really is quite dangerous,” he said, under his breath. “If anyone was to recognize you at Whites, there would be serious consequences.”
“Then you must stop thinking of me as Georgiana,” she hissed in reply.
They arrived at number seven thirty-eight St. James’s Street far too soon, Charles thought, and he slowed his pace as the bow window came into view. Brummell occupied his usual seat in the window, he noticed.
“Membership is not as easy as you imagine,” Charles said, pausing on the sidewalk. “I must enter your name in the book and we must have two others who recommend you along with myself. Then I must persuade thirty-five other members to sign it. They will not like that you are American, especially in light of having so recently lost the colonies.”
“But it is not impossible or you would not have brought me this far,” Mr. Hughes said, rocking back on his heels, his hands firmly on the walking stick in front of him. “I shall endeavor to keep my hands out of pockets, tie a good stiff cravat, and not spit on any one’s shiny boots.”
“I suppose that is all we can really ask of any gentleman,” Charles said. “And I suppose if a man like Brummell can manage to storm this particular castle, so can you. Do you know his father was no more than a valet, I believe?”
“How utterly shameful,” Mr. Hughes said, shocked. “A valet, you say?”
Charles smiled at his sister, feeling himself relax slightly.
“I suppose it is where he found his skill for tying an impeccable knot.”
“Why and see how far it has taken him,” Mr. Hughes said as they crossed the street toward the front door. “He now holds court in the bow window of Whites itself. I think there is indeed cause to hope.”
“We will have to pass you off as a young man who has inherited a great fortune as you are neither titled nor able to perform great feats with starch and cloth.”
“I say, what is wrong with my cravat?” Mr. Hughes asked, looking down at it. “I spent hours on it, I’ll have you know.”
“My dear man, I shall have to refer you to my valet for it is indeed a sad-looking piece of limp proportion.”
Mr. Hughes slapped him on the back, laughing. “Now, Charles, are you casting dispersions on my lack of male equipment? Not gentlemanly of you at all. What say we enter this bastion of male secrecy?”
Charles shook his head, and said to himself, “God help me.”
Then the front door opened and they were admitted to the club.
***
“But what is there to recommend the fellow?” Lord Ashton asked. “He is American after all. I am quite surprised at you, Wyndham, for even considering it.”
“He has, for one so young and with the misfortune of geography, quite a skill with numbers,” Charles said. “I am hoping he will agree to help me invest my money.”
“I suppose we must all do unpleasant things for money, must we not?” Lord Ashton sighed.
“Quite so,” Charles replied.
“If he is good with numbers, it would explain his skill with cards,” Lord Fleming said on Charles’s left. “Do you know the man took over a thousand from me yesterday alone?”
Charles raised an eyebrow at the sum mentioned by Lord Fleming. “A thousand, you say? That is considerable.”
“You shall not have my signature for that American will take all my funds, I fear.”
Charles raised his glass of brandy and swirled the dark liquid before raising it to his lips. “But then you shall not have a chance to win it back either. I do so hate an opportunity denied me to exact revenge.”
“I had not thought of it, Wyndham, and I suppose since you did do me the courtesy of voting for my bill in the Commons, I could do this for you no matter how disagreeable.”
Charles smiled. The man was a fool. He voted for the bill because he had wanted to, but he had also learned that in the game of politics it was useful to let others think one was doing them a favor.
“Excellent, then I may count on you,” Charles said and stood. He finished his brandy and placed the glass on a side table. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I will have to find my young friend before he fleeces another of his wealth.”
Charles exited the front room and went upstairs in search of his sister. He found her in the card room sitting at a game of cards with her husband, Edward. He paused outside of the circle to watch, his heart running a fast race as he wondered if their little game was up. He studied Edward’s face. He seemed his usual composed self, his concentration focused on the cards. He paid little attention to his opponent who sat comfortably opposite him, waiting for him to discard. Her disguise had even her husband fooled. He watched a while longer, and then grew bored and retreated to a seat by the window.
He read the Times while he waited for the game to end, hoping it would be soon for he was tired and wished for nothing more than to be home asleep. He read an article on the administration of the Indian states. He would vote soon on a bill proposing to end the East India Company’s trade monopoly in India. It was not a bill he wanted to support since he had funds in the company.
It was shares in this company that his father had held so dear, and he wondered what his father would think of the proposed legislation. The truth was the company was not doing well. The cost of having to fight wars for control of the Indian states had crippled them and they had petitioned the British Crown for assistance. It made sense that the Crown would want some concessions from the powerful company. It meant the British Crown would assert its sovereignty over the Indian subcontinent.
“Wyndham, how about a game of cards?”
Charles looked up over the top of the paper to see Mr. Hughes standing before him. “Have you not accumulated enough wealth for one night’s work?”
Georgiana sat down in the chair opposite him, and he folded his paper and set it aside.
“Actually Lord Fairchild has cleaned me out,” he smiled. “He is a skilled player.”
The man in question approached. “Wyndham, I hear your friend here is applying for membership to our esteemed club. You may count on my signature. I find we should fill the place with such moneyed and graceful players as he.”
“Glad to hear it,” Charles replied, wondering if Edward really did not suspect the truth.
“I am off to attend Lady Thorp’s gathering,” Edward said. “Are you attending?”
“I had no
t received an invitation.”
“How gauche of me,” Edward said. “I confess the woman is a bore and you are perhaps fortunate in this predicament. Still, she does serve a good plate. I wish you both a good evening.”
He left and they watched his exit then turned to each other.
Charles raised an eyebrow. “Does he play with us?”
“I believe he really cannot suspect.”
“Then you are spared for now. How is it you have lost to him?”
“He is surprisingly good with cards. I do not understand how it is possible he has such gambling debts. I also wanted his signature. Do we have enough yet?”
“Two more and it is done,” he said. “I have two gentlemen who need my help on a matter. I will get it from them.”
“Excellent. I do admire the maneuverings of the male world,” she said. “It is fitting then that White’s has just acquired its first female member.”
“That is really why you are doing this, isn’t it?”
“I cannot deny the appeal of it,” Mr. Hughes smiled. “But honestly, I cannot understand the charm the place holds for men. It is but a collection of rooms not especially well appointed, and inhabited by men who seem to find great pleasure in each other’s company. The food is simple at best, and the company often rather dull.”
“The appeal is the lack of women.”
“It seems quite bizarre, really,” Mr. Hughes said. “We live in a world created by man for a man’s comfort and convenience, and yet he feels the need to escape from it for he finds the world he has created too confining. It is a paradox.”
“Not unlike yourself. Come, we must quit the club for I am for home.”
They hired a hackney to take them back to Mayfair.
“I have been making some inquiries about Edward’s creditors,” Charles said, frowning.
“And?”
“And nothing,” he said. “He owes no one money.”
“No one,” she said, puzzled.
“Even his gambling debts are paid. How much money have you been giving him, Georgiana?”
She was silent a moment then said, “Heaps.”
“Your smuggling is lucrative, indeed.”
Charles noticed his sister’s silence the rest of the way home but did not question her. She was considering some conundrum, he knew, and did not wish to disturb her. He knew he would discover her new scheme soon enough, and would probably find some objection. The hackney stopped a few doors down from her Mayfair home.
Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 15