“No, it took years,” Miss Abby said. Encountering another look, she ducked her head, pressed her lips together, and folded her hands in her lap.
“She confided in us,” Mrs. Linford said reminiscently. “We could do nothing to help her against her husband, of course. He had every power over her by law. But when she came to us and said she wished she had some peaceful, innocent-looking place where she could meet her friend for just a few minutes of happiness once a week or so, Abigail and I instantly invited her to do so under our roof.”
“Cousin Augustus’s roof by then,” Miss Abby added irrepressibly.
“Just so,” said her sister. Then she hesitated, shooting Letty a speculative look before she added with a sigh, “The next bit is difficult to explain, because it is not sufficient simply to say that it happened. We saw it coming. We should have had to be fools not to see it.”
“They fell in love,” Letty said.
“Yes, but they wanted more than mere love, you see. Their behavior had been quite circumspect. We frequently left them alone, but never above this floor, and they always left the door to the room ajar. Then, one day, they confided to us that they desired more privacy. I daresay we might have refused, and perhaps you will say that we should have, but our friend was the one person who knew our true circumstances, and that gave her an unfair advantage. She offered us money.”
“Quite a lot of money,” Miss Abby said. “A quite staggering amount.”
Letty said dryly, “Not her husband’s money, one trusts.”
“No, no, her friend was … is … quite wealthy. At first, he said only that he wanted to help pay our servants, and perhaps for the food he and she ate here, but then he began giving us a quite generous sum whenever they came here. He said it was worth every penny, because the most difficult thing about such liaisons is finding a place where a couple can be truly private.”
Miss Abby nodded. “And that is when Miranda had her quite blindingly brilliant idea. You see, my dear, many members of the beau monde, having married for reasons of property or other convenience, look for true love outside marriage. Their primary problem is to find an appropriate meeting place, and we had all those extra rooms upstairs, just going to waste.”
“Yes,” Letty said, recalling the exchange she had overheard at court, and wondering if they had been talking about Catherine. “I do see. I shall have to give this some thought, ma’am. I don’t suppose you could simply tell Raventhorpe about your financial problems. He is quite wealthy, I believe—”
“Oh, yes,” Miss Abby said. “Justin is quite the wealthiest man in London, but we couldn’t tell him. Why, that would cut up all our peace. We couldn’t entertain the notion for a second, could we, Miranda?”
“It is not to be thought of, my dear,” Mrs. Linford agreed. “You see, Letitia, we have become quite accustomed to looking after ourselves, and Justin cannot be trusted simply to give us what we require without also forcing us to accept his advice and counsel. I don’t know if you quite understand what I am saying—”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” Letty said sincerely. “That I do understand. I had not known him for two minutes before he began giving me the benefit of his counsel. He is, if you will forgive my saying so, quite the most arrogant man I know.” And the most stimulating, murmured a little voice in the back of her mind.
Mrs. Linford said with a sympathetic smile, “I don’t know if I would go so far as to say arrogant, but I do know that his … um … protective attitude would soon give others to wonder what sort of hold he had over us. We have managed to maintain an image of wealth and independence for more than twenty years—”
“Mercy,” Letty breathed. “I have heard all you’ve told me, ma’am, but I had not realized it had been such a great length of time. Is it truly so many years?”
“Oh, yes indeed,” Miss Abby said brightly. “Nearly twenty-two, in fact, because Justin just turned twenty-five, don’t you know, so we have lived in this house nearly twenty-six years.”
“So you can see, Letitia, why we would be loath to beg help from anyone. Moreover, as you must know if you have read Cousin Augustus’s will, if anyone else pays our rent, we should have to forfeit our tenancy here.”
“My dear ma’am,” Letty said, truly distressed, “I hope you know that I would never allow anyone to throw you into the street.”
“You are kind, my dear, but that is not the point. We do not wish to hang on your sleeve or anyone else’s. We are quite discreet, I promise you.”
“Still, ma’am, it is most improper.”
“Dear me, no,” Miss Abby said. “The people we help come from the highest ranks of the nobility. Really, they do.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Linford said. “Moreover, some of our gentlemen occupy the highest places in government circles and the military, so you need not worry that anyone will speak out of turn. They dare not.”
“Only think what a scandal they face if discovered,” Miss Abby exclaimed.
Letty said, “But that’s just it. Think of the scandal!”
“They need our services,” Miss Abby insisted.
Calmly Mrs. Linford said, “No one has yet spoken out, after all. Until now we have gone on quite comfortably.” She sighed. “It is such a pity that you had to discover our little secret.”
“Yes, ma’am, I begin to agree,” Letty agreed, wondering what on earth she was going to do.
She continued to ponder the question after she had had her tour and returned to Jervaulx House. At first, she thought of her dilemma merely as an absorbing puzzle requiring a delicate touch. That, however, was before Tuesday morning, when she received a letter that lent urgency to finding a satisfactory resolution.
When Jenifry entered the breakfast room a few minutes after Letty had put down the letter, she found her mistress in an uncharacteristically pensive mood.
“Is something wrong, Miss Letty?”
Letty smiled ruefully. “Under ordinary circumstances you would find me in transports, but you will understand why I have mixed emotions when I tell you that Papa and Mama have put forward their arrival date to the first week of May.”
“So soon?”
“Yes,” Letty said. “Papa writes that Wellington and Sir Robert Peel believe that the Whig position on Jamaica will soon lead to their downfall. Therefore, he has decided that he and Mama will depart as soon as possible after the farewell celebration the ambassador insists upon holding for them. That gives me little more than a fortnight, Jen, to decide what to do about my house of ill repute.”
SEVEN
Newmarket Heath
THE FAIR-HAIRED YOUNG GENTLEMAN standing near the enclosure, waiting for the Queen’s Plate to begin, said enthusiastically to his companion, “I tell you, Jerry, I never crossed a better tit in my life. If her eyes stand, as I daresay they will, she’ll turn out as tight a little thing as any in England.”
“If you think that, Ned, you’re tight yourself,” his friend retorted. “That mare of yours is too long in the fore.”
“She’s not, I tell you. She’s as fleet as the wind. Why, I raced with Dicky and Will all the way from Cambridge to Newmarket. Dicky rode his roan, and Will his chestnut mare—and you know both have speed—but I beat them all hollow.”
With true sportsman’s taste, the one called Ned wore the single-breasted dark green riding coat known as a Newmarket, over buff smallclothes, with cordovan boots and a top hat with a narrow, turned-up brim. His friend wore similar attire, giving both the look of fashionable sporting men. Neither, however, had yet found cause to suppress youthful enthusiasm in favor of the more fashionable air of ennui.
The one called Jerry grinned. “If you expect a victory over Dicky and Will to convince me that you’re a knowing one where racers are concerned, you’re out, Ned. I’ve no intention of wagering my blunt on another nag of your choosing.”
“That’s unfair, Jerry! I own I had bad luck yesterday, but that was through taking someone else’s advice. Those chaps we met were joll
y bucks, too. You thought so yourself. You didn’t object to making their acquaintance, but I don’t deny they let us in damnably. I lost thirty guineas myself, after all. I made up half of it on Jersey’s Glenmara, though, and I mean to double that sum this afternoon.”
“Not with that silly nag you’ve chosen, you won’t.”
Their exchange carried easily above the chatter of nearby onlookers to Viscount Raventhorpe, who had been watching the pair for some time. He was aware that neither had noticed him even when he strolled near enough to overhear their conversation. “Which silly nag did you choose, Ned?” he asked.
It did not surprise him to see his brother jump nearly out of his skin at the sound of his voice.
Ned’s face was pale when he whirled to face him. “Justin! Good God! I did not know you were here. That is, n-no one t-told me you were coming.” He tugged at his light-green cravat, artfully tied with a full, soft bow. “I-I thought your duties at court must keep you away. What I mean to say is—”
“I know what you mean to say, Ned. Do stop tugging at your neckcloth. It’s already a sad-looking thing. You’d have done better to choose black or white. Do I know your friend, by the way? I cannot recall that we have met.”
“Oh, this is Jerry Bucknell. I’m sure you have heard me speak of him. He is from Devonshire, don’t you know, and studies at the Inner Temple with me.”
“Have the pair of you been called to the bar before your time? You certainly must be flush enough if you can afford to have lost thirty guineas yesterday.”
“Well, I know you mean that for another setdown,” Ned said with a look of irritation, “but I am flush, as it happens, because I’ve still got most of my quarterage. It’s only a bit over a fortnight since Ladyday, after all.”
“Yes, but perhaps you have forgotten that your quarter’s allowance is supposed to last you three months, not merely three weeks.”
Reddening, Ned shot a sidelong look at his friend, then an angry one at his brother. “How you do take a fellow up, Justin! If you heard that about my thirty guineas, you must also know that I’ve already won fifteen back. Moreover, if Mr. Craven’s entry in the Queen’s Plate don’t win, I’ll be very much surprised.”
“Mr. Craven’s entry?”
“A mare called I-Wish-You-May-Get-It. What name could be more likely to win for me?”
“I think I’d have more faith in a certainty than a wish. Don’t you think Jersey’s Caesar in the Handicap Sweepstakes would be a better bet?”
“Pooh, everyone will put money on Caesar. That horse has taken every race it’s entered this year, so the odds will be nothing. Indeed, Jersey’s horses have won nearly every race they’ve entered, so even though I managed to win a few guineas this morning on Glenmara, I don’t mean to risk more on his nags. He hasn’t entered for the Queen’s Plate, though. Someone else has to win.”
“That’s a point, certainly,” Justin said. “I have only one other question for you, and perhaps for Mr. Bucknell, as well, since you mentioned that he is also a student at the Inner Temple. Were you not keeping commons this week?”
Ned avoided his gaze, saying glibly, “That’s nothing to rag a chap about. I’ve kept seven of the twelve terms already. I can afford to miss a dinner or two.”
“You cannot afford to displease your bench master, however,” Justin pointed out. “Not when he is the one who will decide in the end whether to call you to the bar or reject you. There can be no appealing his decision, you know.”
“I do know,” Ned said. “I think it’s dashed unfair, too, that he should have the power to act at his pleasure. They say we law students eat our way to the bar, and that’s true, I suppose, since dining with the barristers and other members is how we learn all they can teach us. There can be no harm in that, though, because clients can take the liberty later of judging how far we have otherwise qualified ourselves. Still, every man who dines with a society should be called to the bar. Otherwise, rejection should be founded solely on his ignorance of the law and be subject to appeal to a higher jurisdiction. As it is, benchers can and do exercise their power on private or political motives, rather than on any basis of law.”
“Another good point,” Justin said, “but you would be better off making it where it might influence someone with power to change the rules. Since your intent was to divert me from what I have to say to you, however, you shot wide of the mark. You’re behaving recklessly, Ned. When you find yourself at low tide later in the term, I hope you will remember—”
“Justin! Thunderation, you here, my boy? I am excessively glad to see you!”
Recognizing his father’s voice, Justin turned with a sinking feeling and said, “Good afternoon, sir. Behold me as amazed to see you as you are to see me. I distinctly recall your telling me you intended to forgo the spring meeting.”
Sellafield dismissed the comment with an airy gesture. “I may have said something of the sort, I suppose. A man never knows when he will take it into his head to do a thing, after all, which brings me back to the point, my boy. I find myself with my pockets to let for the moment, but for half the share, I’ll put you on to an excellent thing. You’ve only to look at Craven’s mare to know …”
Detecting familiar signs of his parent’s overfondness for drink, Justin gritted his teeth and thought how fortunate it was that his mother, at least, did not constantly apply to him for money. Affecting a politeness he did not feel, he let Sellafield finish before he said quietly, “Sorry, sir. I’m afraid I don’t share your faith, or Ned’s, in that mare’s ability.”
“How can you say that? I tell you, that little girl’s near as swift as Eclipse was in his day. You’ve only to look at her. She’s got the finest …”
Noting that Ned had already taken advantage of the interruption to slip away, Justin hoped the lad would not soon have occasion to beg him for funds. He would be sorry to refuse, but he could not in good conscience encourage him to take the road their father had taken. Again he waited until Sellafield finished speaking before repeating his unwillingness to bet on I-Wish-You-May-Get-It.
“Damme, lad, but you don’t know a good thing when you see it,” the earl snapped. “It don’t matter, though, because even if it should chance that you are right—which it won’t—I’ve got a bet on with Conroy that cannot miss.”
“A bet with Conroy? Has he got a horse running?”
“He does, and a loose screw it is, too, wholly untrustworthy.”
“Is that why you bet against it? I am surprised he would take your bet if he does not think the nag a good one,” Justin added, recalling that for some time Conroy had been pressing him to help in his quest to regain royal favor. He wondered if the man hoped to sweeten him up by allowing Sellafield to win.
Sellafield chuckled. “He didn’t even want to bet with me, but I made it impossible for him to refuse. I bet two thousand the tit would neither win nor come in last, that it would place where no one would notice it. He took offense—as who wouldn’t? Indeed, I had counted on that very thing to make him put up his money.”
“I don’t think that was wise, sir. Conroy is no man to challenge.”
“Ah, bah; there’s no talking to you,” the earl snapped, turning on his heel.
Justin sighed but made no attempt to call him back.
Another familiar voice said mockingly, “Having a hard time keeping your team in harness, old man?”
“That’s hardly an appropriate or proper metaphor, Puck,” Justin said, turning with a slight smile to greet his friend. “If you mean to encourage me to wager a huge sum on I-Wish-You-May-Get-It, you, too, can save your breath.”
“I’ll be jiggered. Is that what they wanted? What fools. That mare’s a zero. General Grosvenor’s Daedalus will take the Queen’s Plate. Uh-oh,” he added in a lower tone, “don’t look now, but here come Devon-Poole, Conroy, and that aide of his, Morden. Talk about zeroes! I’ll just take myself off again, and you can find me at the Jockey Club later, if you want me, or at the Rutland
Arms.” He nodded to the approaching trio, then departed without another word.
“Good to see you here, Raventhorpe,” Sir Adrian Devon-Poole said heartily, extending a hand in greeting. He was a tall, slender man with an air of distinction reinforced by a full head of silvery grey hair. Without waiting for a response, he added, “Dare I hope that you require companionship this evening, my boy? I’ve come to Newmarket without my family, and I should be delighted to share a meal.”
“That’s kind of you, sir, but I have arranged to meet friends,” Justin said, briefly shaking the outstretched hand. “Good afternoon, Conroy,” he added, nodding at the aide, Morden, without formally addressing him.
“Afternoon,” Sir John said, looking intently at Justin. “I trust you’ve found time to talk with Melbourne since last we met.”
Devon-Poole interjected in his hearty way, “John, John, this is no place to conduct business. The weather is mild at last, the heath is well attended, and the lad has come to enjoy the races. Leave your politics in London, man!”
“But—” Conroy began, only to have his chief companion divert him again.
“I’ve told you, I’ll talk to him,” Sir Adrian said more brusquely. “Here now, they’re up and running. Pay heed. I’ve got my blunt on I-Wish-You-May-Get-It. I own I could not resist the name.”
Unfortunately for Sir Adrian, and for Ned, after several false starts due to the awkwardness of an entry called Sister-to-Plenipo, the list got away in good order with one exception. I-Wish-You-May-Get-It lost ground from the first. Despite the shouted urging of onlookers, including Sir Adrian (and Ned, too, Justin was sure) and its own best efforts, the mare chased Sister-to-Plenipo and the others for only half a mile before giving up altogether. Daedalus, having taken the lead at the outset, kept it to the end, winning cleverly by half a length.
Justin excused himself to the other two men, earning a look of displeasure from Conroy, which he ignored. He did not like him at the best of times. Since Conroy had begun pressing him to take his side at court, Justin liked him even less.
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