I hope this finds you and Mother in your customary good Health. I will stay with a friend tonight as we intend to ride out of town to see a horse he thinks of buying and will be late returning.
Yr most Obedient son,
Alex
Obedient? Well…he tried to be. Mostly.
The second missive, to Jane Stowe, gave him a qualm. Her father, stepmother, and the servants would be shocked if she received a letter from a man, and certainly either her father or stepmother would demand to read it. The poor girl had problems enough without that complication!
He wrote his message, let it dry, and folded the sheet. Then he addressed it in the delicate, rather over-ornate hand that Eliza Fairford had taught his sisters, and sealed both letters with wafers, green for his father and pink for Jane Stowe’s.
After a moment, he took another sheet, and wrote,
Now that I am returned to Town, I hope we may meet. For reasons Which I will explain then, I suggest the Mall late tomorrow afternoon. Do not reply to my former lodging as I have been forced to leave it.
A.G.
He sealed and addressed it.
Downstairs, he gave careful instructions to a servant to take the first two letters to the nearest penny-post receiving office at once, and have a porter deliver the third. A shilling would pay the postage and messenger fee and leave a tip sufficient to impress the matter’s urgency upon the fellow’s memory.
He had not long to contemplate the possibility that the servant had tarried. The shilling had done its work well, and shortly after he went down to supper, a reply came. He ripped it open and read the message at once. Then he hurried through his meal, settled his bill, and sprang up the stairs two at a time to pack his few belongings, then clattered down again to send for a hackney.
****
He was wondering whether anyone would answer his knock when the door finally opened. Jessup said, “Ah, the gentleman to catalog Mr. Markham’s library. Mistress Jane Stowe sent word to expect you, sir.” He showed no sign of recognizing the unemployed jack-of-all-trades who had shared the servants’ dinner. Of course, workingman’s attire, a yellow wig, and a different way of speaking made a difference.
The front door opened directly into a room rather than an entry hall. With the shutters up over the windows, the only illumination came from the candlestick in Jessup’s hand. By its light, he received an impression of a sparsely furnished parlor paneled in dark oak. The house must date back to the time of James I or before, to Queen Elizabeth.
“I will show you up to a bedchamber, as I understand you will be living in. Will you take some refreshment, sir? Or sup?”
“I have eaten already, thank you.”
“The library is next to the guest bedchamber you will occupy, though you will want to wait for daylight to begin work, of course.”
“Good. Most convenient. It’s kind of your mistress to let me have a bed here. That way I can accomplish more than if I came and went from my lodgings.” Not to mention that it would make it far, far easier to communicate with Mistress Jane.
The butler led him through a door into a corridor he recognized from his earlier visit, when he had been taken upstairs to help the maid.
After leaving his valise to be unpacked by Jessup, he browsed the packed shelves in the library long enough to determine that the books were in order by subject, then sat down at the desk to plan how to proceed. As his excuse for being in the Markham house was to catalog the books, catalog them he must, or at least begin the project.
Chapter 13
The Mall was less thronged than usual, as the day threatened rain. Yet in spite of the gray sky, there were saunterers enough that Gordon was inconspicuous when he arrived. He had made a circuit, admiring the vista of trees and lawn, before Warrender appeared. He did not approach Gordon directly but strolled idly until he was nearly even with him and only then affected to notice him.
“Ah, Gordon! The Mall is thin of company today.”
“You English worry too much about a little damp—it hasn’t even come on to rain yet.”
“You were out of town, I believe?” Warrender said. By the time Gordon had agreed and mentioned that his excursion had been very agreeable, they were out of earshot of others.
Warrender’s voice changed. “You said it was delivered—did you encounter some check?”
“Not in delivering it. But when I left the shop, I noticed a fellow lingering on the street. I think he followed me back to Town.”
“Are you sure? Is he following you yet?”
His tone and a certain loss of color in his face confirmed Gordon’s suspicions. “No, to both questions. My animal went lame coming back, and while I was tending to its hoof, a horseman passed me. He came upon me unexpectedly, as I’d halted beyond a bend in the road. It looked like the man I’d seen in Oxford. Then yesterday morning I thought I saw him again outside my inn—which reminds me, I must give you back some of your money, as I returned the same day.” Alex reached into his pocket for his purse.
“No, no! Never mind the money, it’s a pittance. Keep it against future expenses. Outside your inn, you say?”
“I can’t be certain, but he was of much the same height and build. He was very ordinary in appearance.” If his watcher were employed by His Majesty’s government, he must not identify him to Warrender.
“But you were not followed today?” Warrender asked with barely concealed anxiety.
“I spied him through the window as I breakfasted, so I arranged to keep the room for a few more days, but I slipped out the back and found another lodging.”
“That was well done. You did not ask whether I had been followed, but I can assure you, I am not—today, at least. Where can I reach you now?”
“The Two Roses.” He would not reveal that he was actually staying elsewhere. He had asked the innkeeper to hold any letters he might receive and made it worth his while to agree.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. As the wind came up and the clouds darkened, people melted away. Warrender said, “Dean was wrong. You’re of far more use here than in the prince’s army.”
“That is good to hear, sir. I confess that Mr. Dean’s advice caused me some chagrin.”
“Dean is…a very ardent supporter of our king, but he is also an ass. And he cannot hold his liquor. I am rather worried about Dean. I believe I must have one of our more responsible members invite him to stay at his country house.” Warrender’s tone sent a frisson down Alex’s spine. Would Dean enjoy a pleasant form of house arrest or would some accident befall him in rustic surroundings where the local magistrate might be a friend of his host?
Warrender continued, “Your instincts are more valuable than your ability to shoot or wield a sword.” He glanced sideways at Alex. “I suppose you can do those things as well?”
“Oh, ay. Both small-sword and the Scottish basket-hilted sword. The uncle who brought me up was particular about swordplay. And I’ve done a good deal of hunting, so I’m a fair shot.”
“I do not expect it to come to that. But they’re useful skills.” He smiled, his first genuine expression of pleasure Alex could recall, and said, “I’ll send you word soon. There will be some task for you shortly.”
Warrender departed by hackney; Alex left on foot. Evidently, Warrender was satisfied that he was trustworthy. Alex hardly knew whether to be glad or worried as he made his way to Bloomsbury Square. It was time to show himself, lest his father begin to wonder where he was and what he was doing. His mother, who took a remarkably cynical view of the activities of young men, was unlikely to inquire, however curious she might be.
After dressing in one of his better suits, he sought out his father in his bookroom. The elder Lattimer was in expansive spirits and poured him a glass of claret.
“It proves to be a useful thing that you are on such good terms with Jane Stowe,” he said. “I passed on the information that her brother had been seen in Town. The…ah…recipient was duly grateful.”
“Is Stowe a suspected Jacobite?”
Anthony Lattimer raised his eyebrows. “I have said as much on this subject as I can. I trust you will not feel obligated to mention it to Mistress Jane.”
Which was an order not to do so.
“Kinder not to let her know, in any event, sir.” If her brother were arrested and ended on the gallows—surely it would not be the more extreme penalty!—the shock would be sudden and quickly over. If she knew, rather than merely suspected, she might live in fear and uncertainty for weeks or even months. Alex pitied Jane, but he had no sympathy for Rupert Stowe, less because he was probably a traitor than because it must have been he who tried to implicate Jane in Markham’s murder.
His father steepled his fingers. “I think I may have misjudged your Jane. I do not like the family’s connections on her father’s side, and I hope you will take no action until her brother’s affair is resolved, but it appears she cannot be involved in any plotting. If she were supporting the Young Pretender, she would certainly never have passed on that list or have told you Stowe had returned to London. Roger Markham was a fine man and a good friend of mine, and he had a high opinion of her. No doubt she takes after that side of the family. Her mother was a very lovely girl, though perhaps too trusting. I fear she paid dearly for it, as I do not think her marriage was a happy one. If in due course you wish to make the young lady an offer of marriage, I believe I should not oppose it.”
His father did not mention that Jane’s inheritance was another point in her favor. He did not regard marriages based solely on financial gain with approval, but he would certainly consider it an added benefit.
****
Her father had been in unusually good humor for days, and the house benefitted. Even Elvira was less fidgety and anxious, although she did occasionally voice a hope that Mistress Pleasaunce’s aunt’s servants aired the bedding adequately and did not serve Rupert anything that might disagree with him, and that he might not catch a chill. But she too seemed quite in charity with Jane.
Jane returned from her morning stroll, brief because she had not seen Mr. Gordon and had no shopping to do. In the late morning, a scruffy lad arrived at the kitchen door saying he had a message for Mr. Stowe. He refused to give it to Cook or even Wilson, claiming he’d been promised a shilling on delivery, though he could provide no proof of such a promise, and it was a perfectly exorbitant amount. Without it, Mr. Wilson refused to pay out a shilling “for how would it look in the household accounts, if it proves to be only a trick?” So Jane was asked to decide.
“You could have taken the boy up to my father’s study,” she pointed out. “He could have decided whether to buy a pig in a poke or—” She peered at the folded, sealed sheet the street urchin held possessively and saw what neither Mrs. Merry or the butler had noticed. Her father’s name, although inscribed on the letter in an awkward, back-slanting hand, had undoubtedly been written by Rupert.
“Well, we’ll accept it. Wilson, give the boy his shilling.”
The exchange of hostages complete, Jane herself carried it up to her father.
“The boy who brought it wanted a shilling,” she said. “I gave it to him.”
“Highway robbery,” he grumbled, tearing it open. “Who the devil can be—” The sentence broke off.
“I hope it’s not bad news, sir?” It should be safe to ask that much. It was always risky to ask her father questions. He had no patience with foolish queries, and he could be very touchy about anything that he took to be criticism of himself.
When he did not respond, she said, “I’ll be planning the menus with Cook, if there’s anything you want,” and turned to go.
“Wait. Sit down, Jane. Don’t fidget.” He read the letter again, sighed, and then tossed it onto the embers in the fireplace and watched while the sheet caught fire.
Finally, he said, “Rupert has gotten himself into a foolish tangle.”
Jane found she felt sick with apprehension, even though she had suspected he was deep in some dangerous matter. “Foolish tangle” seemed a monumental understatement.
“I shall not go into details. You need only know that it involved a young lady and a hot-tempered aspirant to her hand.”
Her first, unguarded response would have been, My goodness, that was quick work on his part. However, that remark would have earned her a sharp rebuke, so she kept it to herself. She didn’t believe it anyway. Her father’s lips compressed, as they did when he was thinking hard. “Oh, dear,” she murmured prosaically.
“Your brother felt it best to return to London. But when he stopped at an inn to refresh himself and change horses, he espied a fellow he had seen in the West Country beau’s company—a hanger-on of some sort. The suitor’s father made his fortune in tin mines or some such thing, and this young sprig of a midden heap is said to have an unsavory reputation. Rupert fears he has sent a cutthroat after him.”
“I see.” She did not believe it for a moment.
He looked annoyed, either at her lack of agitation or as if he sensed her disbelief. She had never learned to counterfeit emotion, only to suppress it.
“He eluded the scoundrel and went to earth in some squalid inn here in town. He is almost out of funds—of course!—and he dare not come home, as the fellow can easily find out his direction, if he does not already know it. If he can but remain hidden for a time, no doubt the pursuit will be discontinued. He cannot have any serious intentions about the girl, who is the daughter of some middling prosperous farmer. Young men will dally with pretty chits. There’s no harm in it.”
Jane nodded encouragingly.
“Which brings me to your part, Jane. I propose to collect Rupert from his current lair. Would you be so good as to let him stay in your uncle’s—I suppose I should say, your—house?”
It was not really a request, though phrased as one. “Why…” Rupert and Alex in the same house, with Alex so very interested in Charles and Rupert’s activities? It took her a few seconds too long to answer.
“I do not think it a great favor to ask, and no inconvenience to you, as I think you still have staff in the house? A waste of money, but fortunate in the circumstances.”
“Mr. Harris did not disapprove of it. An empty house might be robbed, and there is still work to be done to ready it to be leased out. Of course Rupert may stay there. In fact, a gentleman is at present cataloging the library, in case there should be some rare volumes worth selling before a tenant moves in.” Really, the number of lies she found herself telling of late reflected sadly upon her character.
“The presence of the servants is a convenience with Rupert to be staying there,” he allowed. “Thank you, Jane. You’re a good, dutiful girl.”
Jane smiled dryly. She had found, since recently having her father’s approval, that it no longer meant as much to her as it would have when she was a child. She could not remember her own mother; her father had married Elvira within a year of her mother’s death. Her stepmother’s dislike she understood and it had never bothered her. But her father had never been an affectionate parent, whether because she was not a son or from some anger at her mother, she did not know. It did not matter now.
He went on, “Send to the butler—what’s his name, Jessup?—to expect your brother this afternoon. I’ll take him there myself.”
Chapter 14
Alex received Jane’s note, enclosed in the sheet directed to Jessup, with pleasure—until he read it.
…I could not well refuse to let Rupert stay, although I fear it may cause some awkwardness.
There was an understatement!
But perhaps if you and he meet, you may learn something from him by discreet questioning which will assist you.
And exculpate Rupert? Gordon feared she would be disappointed. What was behind Rupert’s flight? This tale of a murderous henchman must be pure drivel. It was like something from a play. Had the letter Stowe received told the true story? If so, it was hardly surprising Jane’s papa had burned it. Though a man mi
ght throw a letter on the fire in a fit of exasperation.
Toward the middle of the afternoon, as he finished listing all the volumes of poetry, he heard a stirring downstairs. He would not take any notice of it; someone who was in the house to perform a presumably paid service would not do so. But it was very hard to turn his mind to cataloging the next section, history, with so much to distract his thoughts.
It might be that Rupert would confine himself to his chamber, like a creature (perhaps a stoat?) hiding from hunters. If he and Rupert never met, he need not worry about discovering some truth which would hurt Jane. It was too bad it wasn’t Charles Pleasaunce come to stay instead. Alex would have had no hesitation about squeezing him for information, like a lemon for juice.
Markham had arranged the house with an eye to what suited him, the needs of a modern gentleman being rather different than those of a tradesman of the previous century. The drawing room, dining room, bookroom, and a spare bedchamber were all on the same floor, so when Alex put aside his pen and list at supper time, he needed only to stroll down the hall to find Rupert.
Alex paused in the door to the drawing room. Stowe, clad in a pale blue coat with a brocade waistcoat of blue and silver, sprawled in a chair, a half-empty decanter on the table beside him and a glass in his hand. His neckcloth was loosened. Alex’s nose detected a stronger scent of brandy than could be expected from one glass. Stowe must have been saturating himself with it. He stared at Gordon blankly for a moment before saying, “I’m Stowe. Rupert Stowe. This is m’ half sister’s house. Inherited it from her uncle. You must be the book fellow. Said someone was, what-do-y’call-it, going through the library. What’s your name?” Altogether, a young man on an alcohol-fueled spree.
“Alexander Gordon. Yes, I’m cataloging the books.” He added a cool smile and sat down to wait for Jessup to call them to the dining room next door. But for Jane, he would not have found himself in a predicament; he would have sought to draw Rupert out. But he did not want to cause Jane unhappiness, so the less Rupert had to say to him, the better. A hired “book fellow,” little above an upper servant, would hardly rate a greeting from a fashionable young man, let alone conversation. To be ignored as beneath notice was agreeable to Alex, especially since at some future date Rupert might meet him in his own identity.
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