“Well, I won’t deny the possibility, though when Cuddie or I did not emerge or whistle for him, my other fellow would have taken action. You let them go?”
“Yes, sir. Wouldn’t you?”
Lattimer grinned. At any rate, the expression drew his lips back over his teeth. Jane chose to consider it a grin.
“While not strictly according to procedure, it makes no real difference. I do not know how young O’Brien could have been tried for Markham’s murder without certain facts emerging which are best kept secret. I would have liked to meet O’Brien again, but I would have had to deal with the matter in my official capacity, which would have been distasteful.” He was lost in thought for a moment, while Jane decided she liked Anthony Lattimer very much.
“And now, young man,” he continued in an ominous voice, “what are you doing in your shirt and no wig in the presence of a lady? You look the veriest ruffian.”
Before Alex could speak, Jane said, “When you arrived, sir, we were discussing the removal of the body to the cellar. Rather than risk staining them, Mr. Gordon took off his coat and waistcoat, with my permission. And the wig persisted in slipping around, which would not have been helpful at all.” She saw no reason to let him know that Gabriel O’Brien was now dressed as a footman.
Lattimer waved away the explanation dismissively. “I think Mr. Gordon and I must have a private conference. If you will attend for a few minutes also, Mistress Jane?”
“Mistress, my room might be suitable to the purpose,” Mrs. Jennings said.
Settled in the housekeeper’s room, Lattimer said, “Mistress Jane, you have rendered as good service to our country as any military officer. Thank you. As sometimes happens in battle, you have suffered injury for it. The accusation of murder and the accounts in the newspapers must affect your reputation for some time to come. Unfortunately, the clumsiness of our efforts to exonerate you did not greatly help, for reasons I cannot discuss.”
“Because they are most secret, Mr. Lattimer?”
“Just so, Mistress Jane. Young O’Brien’s trial would have done much to erase the suspicion against you, and yet I confess letting him escape is a better outcome in other ways.”
“I quite agree, sir.”
“Then there is the matter of your living here with Gordon in residence, as I suspect has been the case. While perfectly understandable—even necessary for the safety of you both—the world would still regard you as ruined if it ever became known. Your servants appear to be loyal and discreet—”
“Except perhaps for Molly, whose tongue sometimes runs away with her,” Alex added.
“I would like to find Molly a position in the country with some nice family,” Jane said. “She is a good girl, but she is silly.”
“I believe I know someone who needs another kitchen maid, who would not be inconvenienced by her garrulity. Still, I wish it had not been necessary for Gordon to stay here. There is a degree of impropriety about it…enough said of that. But there is nothing I or even the First Lord of the Treasury can do to stop whatever gossip may arise. I am heartily sorry. You deserve recognition and reward for your actions. But that too would reveal matters which are best concealed. Our government will not publicly thank you. I fear you must make do with my thanks on its behalf. If there is anything I can do for you, you need only ask. I do have some influence. And thank you for aiding my son.”
My son?
Both men noticed her expression at the same time. She closed her mouth, but her eyebrows remained elevated. At least Mr. Gordon’s father is a gentleman.
“Not my natural son,” Lattimer said hastily. “I gather he did not explain our relationship.”
“I introduced myself as Gordon, as you instructed me, sir.” To Jane: “There are a few who know my father has a connection with the War Office and some other departments, and if they heard that a Lattimer had called upon your uncle, someone might have speculated. Later it would have been awkward to explain.”
“We do make rather a cult of secrecy, except when the members of some departments are as loose-tongued as your Molly. Alex is my second son. Until recently, he displayed no great talent for anything except acting, not that there is anything amiss with his brains. I now perceive that he has a turn for intrigue.” Lattimer rose. “Again, thank you.”
Jane took it as dismissal. No doubt the two had state secrets to discuss, and she certainly needed to think about other matters.
“Thank you, Mr. Lattimer. I’m very pleased you came—and even more so that Charles Pleasaunce will be leaving in the near future, rather than late tonight. Good day, sir.” She curtsied, and Lattimer laughed outright and bowed. She dipped a curtsy to Alex, smiling. My goodness, it would be hard to think of him as Alex Lattimer rather than Gordon!
****
Jane swept out. His father’s eyes skewered him.
“You were rather smitten with Mistress Jane, as I recall. Do you intend to court her? Or perhaps I should ask if you believe you have a chance if you do court her?” He added, “I don’t say you must make her an offer, although in ordinary circumstances there would be no other recourse.”
“I think she likes me. I have some reason to hope she would accept my offer. But can I make one in good conscience when I have no profession—which is my own fault, I know. It would look as if I wanted to marry her for her money. If you are still willing, sir, I will set myself to make my fortune in whatever merchant house or bank will have me. That would at least show I was not merely a fortune-hunter. She would not object to my engaging in business. Her uncle did.”
“No,” his father said deliberately. “I now realize you would be wasted in the commercial field, unless your heart is set upon being a banker or trader. Did you find the excitement of your month as an intelligencer to your liking?”
Oh, no. “I could do the work, sir, though often plaguey uncomfortable, and I could feel the shadow of the gallows the entire time. And if Mistress Jane is willing to marry me, how could I ask her to endure my absences and the risk that she might be left a widow unexpectedly?”
“I would not ask it of any woman, myself. I feared you might have acquired a taste for the danger. Some do. But spying is no work for a gentleman or a husband. We have men of lower degree for that. There is a position for which you might be very well suited.”
Alex sat up straighter.
“Two men will be vacating their offices in Somerset House. They were far too fond of boasting to friends how important their posts were and how many secrets they knew. I could have some respect for a man who gave our secrets away out of political or moral conviction, but fiend take all loose-lipped braggarts! I have thought for years they should be removed, though not because I suspected them of passing on information.” He sighed and leaned back in the housekeeper’s armchair.
“Positions of authority are always held by men of birth and breeding. That is the way of the world. However, I have noticed that men who have no experience with…say, casting cannon…cannot effectively command those who do the work. One needs an understanding of the processes involved, rather than social graces. The men in question have been responsible for directing the activities of intelligencers and making recommendations based on their reports.”
“I see, sir.” It seemed necessary to say something, to make it clear he was listening with rapt fascination.
“It would be best if both men’s positions were combined into one, and that held by a man who knows what it’s like to have to make his own decisions when things go wrong, with no way to contact his superior. The First Lord agrees on the ground that one man would be less costly than two and more efficient, which is also true. You would be able to sleep in your own—ahem! or your wife’s—bed at night, except for rare exceptions like my recent journey north to either find you or recover your body. Would you consider such work? The pay is not munificent, but then, Mistress Jane’s fortune is more than adequate. If I’m not mistaken, Markham’s income was several thousand a year.”
“Hang the pay and Jane’s fortune, too,” Alex said. “Well—no, not that. But being employed by the government would be respectable, useful work, and I think I would enjoy it. If she will agree…”
“That’s settled, then. Why should she not? She must be attached to you, judging by her concern when you failed to return as expected. And your prospects are better now than they were a month ago. I trust you will call upon Mr. Stowe, for courtesy’s sake, if not for permission.”
“Certainly, sir.” Alex paused. “If there is nothing more, may I be excused?”
His father gave him a knowing smile. “You may. With any luck, Pleasaunce’s transport will be here soon, and I think you should depart with it, as if you were one of the freightmen. The order regarding your status as an accredited agent of the government may not yet have been passed to all the relevant departments. You will no doubt have time enough to speak with Mistress Jane first.”
His father paused, and Alex chafed a little at the delay.
“Thank God you destroyed those muskets and cannon, Alex. I stopped at Whitehall on my way here to give orders to end the search for you. Word was received today that General Cope’s two regiments were defeated near Edinburgh on the 21st—and that with only such weapons as the Highlanders had. With more and better arms, who knows what they might do? You deserve recognition for your work, but that’s not the way of our service. Though I’ve been told I can expect a knighthood when I retire,” he added with a laugh. “Go along to Mistress Jane, now. I’ll see you at home, later.”
In the kitchen, he was met by the news that Jane and Jessup had gone up to the attic to fetch down the old carpet.
“I’ll help Jessup,” Alex said.
“I doubt you will be too late to do much,” Mrs. Jennings said. “Though you may meet them coming down the stairs.”
They were indeed almost all of the way downstairs.
“Let me take that, mistress.”
She relinquished her end of the roll of carpet.
“I was not sure how long you might be closeted with your papa. I wanted to be ready for the removal.”
He grinned at her as he and Jessup set the roll down parallel to Pleasaunce’s corpse. Jessup kept his eyes averted from the body. Alex looked; he had not done so at the time of the shooting or did not recall doing so. Too much else had been happening. The sight was not as nasty as he expected. There was not much blood…or anything else. O’Brien had chosen his shot well, killing Pleasaunce instantly. Better than hanging, surely.
He looked at Jane, who seemed not unduly upset by the presence of Pleasaunce’s mortal remains. A very practical young lady.
“Mistress?” Jessup asked. “As we are done here…?”
“You may go,” she said. “I will be along shortly to speak with Mrs. Harrow about tomorrow’s menu. Faith, about tonight’s supper, too! Which should be early as we have not had our midday meal yet.”
“Very good, mistress.”
With rare tact, even for a butler, Jessup shut the door behind him.
How did one propose marriage? Kneeling at the lady’s feet and taking her hand was supposed to be the romantic thing to do, but he thought he would feel like a fool. Particularly given their surroundings. If they were at Vauxhall Gardens, he might find a secluded spot to make his addresses to her. But that would require addressing himself to her papa first, which would involve finding a way to introduce himself and explain how he had come to know Jane…And she was gazing at him expectantly right now. The devil fly away with Pleasaunce’s corpse! If its presence did not bother Jane, why should he delay?
“At last we are free of this business, Mistress Jane.” What does a fellow say? Perhaps he ought to have consulted an etiquette book, but the opportunity had come up without warning. “This is not the place or circumstances I would have chosen to…” Ah! Inspiration! “…to lay my heart at your feet, but I find I cannot wait any longer. Will you do me the honor to be my bride? I have no fortune, though I will eventually inherit a competence, but I have been offered employment in the government.” Possibly he should stop there, but there were so many other things he needed to say. “I know your father is unlikely to look upon me with favor. Please don’t think I offer because of our recent living arrangements. I was drawn to you from our first meeting, like iron filings to a magnet.” That was a nice, poetical touch. “I have found new qualities to admire at our every meeting. May I—” He halted before saying, May I ask your hand of your father? Fool that he might be, he suspected it would be the wrong thing to say to a strong-minded young lady of five-and-twenty who had managed her papa’s household for years and more recently helped thwart treasonous activities. No, he knew it would be a mistake. His own father had certainly not approached Grandfather Gordon before proposing to Mama. “May I ask for your hand in marriage, my dear Jane?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, you may.” Her eyes were shining. For the second time in the day, he found himself passionately embracing a young lady in proximity to a dead body. And, if he were not mistaken, it was drawing flies. He breathed in the scent of lavender water on Jane’s skin and rosemary on her hair. They were not strong enough to overcome the tang of gunpowder and a more human stench, which was probably what was attracting the flies.
When they drew apart, he could not help glancing toward the mortal remains again. Her eyes followed his.
“It seems wrong to be happy,” she said, looking down at what had been Charles Pleasaunce.
“Surely not.” He put his arms around her again, hoping to distract her.
“I mean, about him. I’ve known him all my life, he was my brother’s friend—not that that was a recommendation—and now he is suddenly dead by violence, and what I feel is relief. It seems callous and unladylike.”
He himself was conscious of no such qualms. “Are you sure you have not been persuaded by sentiment and novels to believe you should pity him? Does he deserve it as much as your uncle, whose murder he caused? If you had fired the shot, ’twould be reasonable to be affected by it. I’m sure I would, had I killed him. But neither of us bears any guilt in this matter, and I, for one, am glad he’s dead. He led your brother into treason and meant you to hang. If Pleasaunce were alive, he would almost certainly be executed for his crimes. And if he somehow escaped prosecution, I would call him out.”
“Would you?” She sounded surprised.
“What sort of fellow do you take me for? Of course I would.”
“But the danger!”
“I am considered accomplished with a sword. My grandfather was particular about swordplay. Pleasaunce would be as dead as he is now.”
“Oh.” After a pause during which she rested her head against his shoulder, she remarked, “I fear embracing in such surroundings is sadly lacking in decorum.” She did not sound overly concerned.
“Not at all. If we had gone beyond the kind of kiss and embrace suitable to a newly betrothed couple, that would have shown a want of decorum. And this is the only place in the house we could achieve the privacy necessary to kiss, without being so private as to outrage decency.”
“And you could not have offered for my hand in the kitchen. That would have been ridiculous. With the servants there as an audience, you know.”
They both considered the corpse again. The flies seemed to be increasing in numbers. Alex stole a glance at her and found that she was looking back at him. They both burst into laughter.
“What a relief that it’s over!” Jane sighed when they were able to control themselves.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Alex suggested. “While the privacy here is enticing, the atmosphere is not.” And they both laughed again.
What a tale to tell our children and grandchildren!
A word about the author…
When she was three years old, Kathleen Buckley’s father bought a set of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Big books! With all kinds of words (and pictures) in them!
By the age of twelve, she knew she wanted to write fiction (she
also wanted to be a journalist, a spy, and a spaceperson—but NASA wasn’t accepting female spacepersons then).
She never became a journalist because she hates asking pushy questions, nor a spy, because she’s not good with foreign languages, has bad eyes, and is not athletic. But along the way, she worked in a hospital billing department, as a bookkeeper in a print shop, as a paralegal, and as a security officer.
In semi-retirement, she began to write full-time, at least when not pursuing her other hobbies: reading, cats, cooking, costume projects, and spinning wheel repair. And no, she can’t spin. That will have to come after the spinning wheel repair.
*
Learn more about Kathleen Buckley at
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or email [email protected]
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An Unsuitable Duchess
by Kathleen Buckley
After her guardian’s death, Anne Sinclair comes to Town seeking a man with broad interests, rather than broad estates. She possesses a competence and a pretty face, so why did her late guardian think it might be difficult for her to make a match? The question becomes urgent when she discovers that London can be perilous for a young lady of inquiring mind—especially when she has a hidden enemy.
Lord John Anniscote unexpectedly inherits the title and responsibilities of his dissolute brother, the Duke of Guysbridge, including houses, servants, tenants, and the need to provide himself with an heir. Formerly poor, cynical, and carefree, he finds himself hunted by marriage-minded females. When a plot against a young lady up from the country touches his honor, can the new duke safeguard her reputation and repair his own?
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