An unwelcome gremlin at the back of his mind reminded him that he had once—quite long ago—judged her the perfect woman to be his wife. Telling himself it would serve as an excellent lesson to him never to make decisions before he had gathered all the facts, he exerted himself to remain courteous.
“I daresay your carriage is in the mews,” he said, moving to ring the bell. “Jackson can send someone to tell your coachman you are ready to depart.”
Miss Abby said politely, “Oh, must you go so soon?” Then, when Justin caught her eye, she added hastily, “But of course you must. What a mix-up, to be sure! Justin will read Ned a dreadful scold for this, I promise you.”
“My goodness me, Miss Frome, but it is not so bad as that. I had the pleasure of meeting you, at all events, so now when we meet at Lady Sellafield’s dinner party, we will not be strangers. I quite count that an advantage, don’t you?”
“To be sure, my dear,” Miss Abby said, casting another look at Justin.
Fortunately, Jackson arrived just then in response to Justin’s ring.
Justin said, “Miss Devon-Poole is leaving, Jackson. Send a lad to order her coach to the door, will you?”
“Yes, my lord. I told them to take it round to the back. Won’t be a minute, sir. Oh, and Mrs. Linford came in some five minutes ago,” he added. “She was just going to take off her coat and join you here.”
Gritting his teeth, Justin said, “Miss Devon-Poole will wait for her, then.”
“Yes, indeed,” Miss Devon-Poole said. “I want to meet all your relatives.”
“I thought as much,” he murmured.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Again, Miss Abby stepped into the silence. “Would you like to pet Clemmy, Miss Devon-Poole? He is quite friendly, I promise you.”
“I am sure he is, ma’am. I can hear him purring.” Obediently, she stroked the cat, which ignored her with a haughtiness unmatched by any human.
Mrs. Linford came in a few moments later. “Well, now, isn’t this nice,” she said with her customary dignity and poise when Justin presented Miss Devon-Poole. “Do forgive my tardiness, dear. Justin neglected to warn me that you were coming.”
“Oh, I know, ma’am,” Miss Devon-Poole said cheerfully. “We have already scolded him roundly, but as it happens it was not his fault.”
“No?” Mrs. Linford looked expectantly at Justin.
“Ned’s notion of a prank, ma’am.” He explained briefly.
“I see. How naughty of him. Nonetheless, it has been pleasant to meet you, Miss Devon-Poole. You must call again one day.”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you. You are coming with me, are you not, sir?”
“I will see you to your carriage, of course, but then I must return,” Justin said. “I have business to discuss with my aunts.”
She pouted but did not argue the point.
When he returned, he saw at once that Miss Abby had opened the budget, for Mrs. Linford was looking severe.
Shutting the door to the anteroom, he said, “Now, my dears, I want to know exactly what is going on here.”
Mrs. Linford raised her chin. “I do not see how our affairs concern you.”
“Since Aunt Abby told me that consorting with an unmarried young woman here goes against your rules, I think it concerns me very much,” he said grimly. “She also mentioned patrons. I am not a fool, ma’am. Moreover, I have heard occasional whispers about a house of convenience in Mayfair. Is this that house?”
Faced with such a direct question, Mrs. Linford winced but did not look away. After a long moment, she said, “Dear me, do you think Ned knows? Is that why he sent that young woman here, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I promise you, I will find out.”
“Please do. I do not like to speak against your brother, but he is something of a prattlebox, I fear. Having managed to protect our reputations these twenty years and more, I’d think it a pity to have it all come out now through his carelessness.”
“Have you gone mad?”
Stiffly she said, “I beg your pardon?”
“You have practically admitted that you are running a house of ill repute, ma’am, and now you say that you have been doing so for twenty years?”
He waited for her to deny the accusation, which was an outrageous one, to say the least.
Instead, to his dismay, she said, “I should not call it a house of ill repute, exactly, Justin. Your first definition was more nearly the correct one.”
“We generally call it une maison de tolérance,” Miss Abby said earnestly. “In the French fashion, you know.”
The phrase instantly brought Letitia to mind. He would have to sort this mess out quickly, before she learned that her inheritance could destroy her reputation and force her to resign her position at court. He could not allow that.
“I will have to stop this, you know,” he said quietly.
Miss Abby cocked her head. “Miranda, can he do that? He would spoil everything for us!”
Mrs. Linford was regarding Justin with what seemed to him, under the circumstances, to be an unnatural calm. She said, “I do not think you can, you know. We are breaking no laws, you see, and we do not answer to you.”
“I am sure you must be breaking at least one or two laws, Aunt Miranda. And even if you are not—”
“Even if we are,” she interjected with that same unnerving calm, “you will find the authorities quite uninterested, Justin. Too many of their superiors take advantage of our service, you see, to want us to stop.”
“That’s quite true,” Miss Abby agreed.
“But you simply cannot do things like this!”
“Why not?” Miss Abby asked, but both ladies regarded him with identical quizzical looks.
Sighing, he said, “If you don’t understand, I don’t know how to explain it to you, but not only am I sure that it must be against some law or other, it’s just plain wrong. Persons of your quality simply don’t allow illicit activities to go on inside their houses.”
“But it is you who don’t understand, Justin,” Miss Abby said. “Persons of quite the highest quality seek out our service.”
“Nonetheless you must stop it at once,” he said firmly.
“Quite impossible,” Mrs. Linford said.
“Yes, quite,” Miss Abby agreed. “We could not think of it, my dear.”
“Nonsense, you must!”
Drawing herself up, Mrs. Linford said austerely, “Pray, do not excite yourself so, Justin. We know exactly what we are doing. So long as you can button Master Edward Delahan’s lips, we have nothing to fear.”
“Nothing to fear? You have lost your minds!” The words came out much more sharply than he had intended; so sharply, in fact, that the cat leapt from Miss Abby’s arms and dashed under a sofa.
“Oh, now see what you have done,” Miss Abby exclaimed. “You have frightened poor Clemmy.”
“Never mind that. I tell you, you must stop this nonsense. Why did you ever begin it?”
Matter-of-factly Mrs. Linford said, “Because we needed money, of course.”
“Nonsense, your father left you very well to pass.”
“Yes, he did,” Miss Abby said, “only Horace spent it all.”
“Horace?”
“Your grandfather, of course. Our dear brother. He is deceased now, of course, so one must not speak ill of him, but—”
“That will do, Abigail,” Mrs. Linford said.
“Oh dear. Yes, of course.” Miss Abby primmed her lips tightly together.
Justin looked from one to the other, then drew a long breath to calm his temper. “I think I begin to understand,” he said at last.
“Excellent,” Mrs. Linford said. “I shall order some tea.” She moved toward the bell pull.
“Wait, Aunt Miranda, I have not finished. There is no cause for you to earn your way, you know. I have much more money than is good for me. The obvious solution to this imbroglio is f
or me to make you an allowance.”
“Oh, no, we couldn’t,” Miss Abby said, clasping and unclasping her slender hands in visible distress. “Tell him, Miranda!”
“Quite right,” Mrs. Linford said. “It would not do for us to take money from you, Justin. We value our independence, you see.”
“But that would not change. I promise you, I don’t mean to be tight-fisted.”
“I am sure you would be all that is generous, my dear, but still it would not do for us.” She hesitated, then added, “We prefer to go on as we are, you see.”
“I cannot allow that.”
Miss Abby said with a sigh, “You see, Justin dear, that’s just what you would do, forever and ever.”
He frowned. “What would I do?”
“You would tell us what to do and what not to do. We are very fond of you, my dear, but we don’t want that.”
“I wouldn’t do any such thing!”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Linford said. “Then we shall go on as we are. You could not pay our rent for us, in any case, you know. That would invalidate the tenancy agreement Cousin Augustus included in his will.”
“Cousin Augustus is dead,” Justin pointed out. “I am sure we can arrange something with Clifford and Lady Letitia so that you can continue to live here. You must know that she would never put you into the street.”
“That is just what she said,” Miss Abby said. “But that—”
“Before we put the problem to her, however, you must stop letting your so-called patrons come here to pursue their unfortunate activities. Only think how dreadful it would be if she should learn what you’ve been doing here.”
“Oh, but she knows,” Miss Abby said brightly, “and she don’t mind a bit.”
Stunned, Justin looked from one to the other, utterly speechless.
Mrs. Linford gazed steadily back at him.
Miss Abby nodded, setting the decorations on her hat dancing. Then, helpfully she said, “Letitia is quite French in her ways, you know, so she quite understands these things, my dear. I promise you, she did not fly into the boughs.”
“Didn’t she?” The fit of temper that had threatened him more than once during the past hour nearly took possession now. He held it at bay, saying through clenched teeth, “I shall discuss that with her. Indeed, I must go to see her at once.”
Mrs. Linford glanced toward the little Sèvres clock on the mantelpiece. “I do not think you will find her at home just now. She paid us a morning call yesterday, you see, to offer to accompany us to the Royal Horticultural Society fete, which is to take place tomorrow at Chiswick, of course, and—”
“With her dear little monkey,” Miss Abby interjected, smiling.
Justin exclaimed, “Monkey?”
“Oh yes, the dearest creature. This time he wore a red velvet collar to which she had attached the dearest silver chain. The naughty boy did not like it in the least, I can tell you, but it certainly made him less likely than last time to—”
“Abigail, you interrupted me.”
“Oh, did I, Miranda? I am so dreadfully sorry, but when you mentioned Letty’s visit, I recalled that it was entirely due to Jeremiah that—”
“Quite right, my dear, but as I was saying to you, Justin, I do not believe Letitia will be at home now. You will see her at your mama’s dinner party tomorrow, of course, but she told us that the queen is holding court today. I collect that Her Majesty did not require your attendance.”
“No,” he said, frowning. It would not do to seek her out at Buckingham Palace to discuss such a topic, certainly.
“Her Majesty desired Letty to help greet the ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary from the king of the French and his countess,” Miss Abby said. “Also, the envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary from the king of the Netherlands. Because of her skill with languages, you know, but such an honor, my dear! Indeed, Letty said that Her Majesty has been treating her quite kindly of late.”
“Has she?”
“Yes, and she confided to us that she thought she had you to thank for that. Did you speak to Lord Melbourne for her, dear?”
“I did drop a word in his ear,” Justin admitted. “I thought perhaps Her Majesty was in danger of forgetting how powerful Jervaulx is, and what powerful men he counts as his friends. He is very tight with Wellington, you know.”
“Is he?”
“How pleasant for him,” Mrs. Linford said. “And how kind of you, my dear Justin, to have done such a good deed. I fear that some people at court were not treating Letitia as courteously as they ought, so your speaking up for her quite puts me in charity with you again:”
“Does it, ma’am? I am gratified, but that does not alter my decision to put a stop to these activities of yours, one way or another.”
“Well, in the meantime, I should be very grateful if you would look for Liza. Jackson told me that she ran out of the house, looking quite distressed.”
“Liza will come back when she wants to,” he said.
Mrs. Linford frowned. “She is not—how shall I say this? Liza does not always understand things. She …”
“She is as daft as a loon, Aunt,” Justin said when she paused to choose her words again. “Indeed, ma’am, I do not know why you put up with her nonsense. For a servant girl to act as if she is the daughter of the house—”
“She is not a servant girl, either, my dear,” Miss Abby said. “That is the problem, you see. One does not know precisely how to deal with her. Once, when Admiral Rame was here—”
“That’s quite enough,” Mrs. Linford said swiftly. “We don’t name names, Abigail. I do not know why I find it necessary to remind you of that so often.”
“Admiral Rame! Good Lord,” Justin exclaimed. “Don’t tell me he is one of your so-called patrons! I won’t believe it.”
“I shan’t tell you anything of the kind,” Mrs. Linford said with lofty scorn.
“No, certainly not,” Miss Abby agreed, flushing to the roots of her hair.
Mrs. Linford said, “I ask you again, however, to show some kindness toward Liza. If you have your carriage, you could drive about the streets until you see her.”
“I have not got my carriage,” Justin snapped. “Moreover, if I go anywhere, it will be to find Lady Letitia. Failing that, I shall pay my idiot brother a call that he will not soon forget. In any event, your Liza, as daft as she is, is still quite capable of finding her way back to this house. If she is not safely in this room again within a couple of hours at the most, I shall own myself very much astonished.”
An hour later, returning to Jervaulx House from the palace, Letty unfolded a note presented to her on a silver salver and stared at its contents in dismay.
If you want to learn the truth about Little Liza before she disappears from London forever, you will find her at number 12 Boverie Street. Hurry!
A friend.
TWELVE
LETTY DID NOT RECOGNIZE the handwriting on the note, but the scrawl was erratic, as if someone had snatched up the first bit of paper that came to hand and scribbled the message. A sense of urgency emanated from it, stirring her to haste. As she hurried to her dressing room, she realized that if she ordered out a carriage, it could take half an hour before it was at the door. It would be quicker to hail a hackney coach in the Strand. Moreover, a London driver would be more likely than Jonathan Coachman to know the whereabouts of Boverie Street.
Jenifry had gone out on errands of her own, but Letty did not require help to take her green velvet mantle from the wardrobe and fling it on over her afternoon frock. Finding the reticule that matched her mantle, she counted twenty pounds in coins and notes into it from her dressing-table drawer. Then, as she hastened toward the door, another thought struck her that sent her back to the wardrobe.
Reaching for a wooden box on the shelf, she took it down, opened it, and withdrew the small, silver-mounted pistol that her mother had given her before bidding her farewell from Paris. Making certain it was loaded, she
plucked two more bullets from the box and stowed the lot in her reticule.
Then without wasting another moment, she hurried downstairs, out through the courtyard, and along the driveway to the Strand. Hailing the first cab she saw, she did not wait for the cabby to jump down and help her, although as she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, he bestirred himself as if he meant to do so.
Urgently she said, “Boverie Street, do you know it?”
“Aye I do, that,” he said, shifting whip and reins to one hand and scratching his scraggly chin whiskers with the other. “Be that whither ye’re bound, then, lass?”
“Yes, number twelve. Is it far?”
“Not much, it ain’t. Near the Temple, that be, above Hawker’s Wharf.”
“The Temple? Do you mean the Inns of Court?”
“Aye, the same. Can ye manage that door, then?”
“Yes,” she replied, climbing in quickly and shutting the door with a snap. Letting down the window as the coach began to move, she called out, “As quickly as you can, driver. A child’s life may be at stake.”
“Wouldn’t be the first, not there,” he shouted back, but she heard the crack of his whip, and their speed increased. “Is that door shut tight?” he bellowed.
“It is,” she yelled back. Putting up the window again, and settling back against the shabby squabs, she noted with distaste that the air inside the coach was distressingly noisome. Still, she forced herself to relax. Learning that the address lay near the Law Institutes had slightly reassured her about the neighborhood in which she would find Liza.
She had taken the precaution of bringing the message with her, and now she took it out of her reticule to look at again. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but that, she decided, might as easily be due to the author’s haste as to any other cause. It would serve no purpose to ponder that person’s identity until she had Liza safe.
That she would find the girl she did not doubt, as long as they were not too late. The coach made good speed up the Strand to Fleet Street and through Temple Bar. Then, just beyond St. Dunstan’s West, the ancient church that over a century before had missed by mere yards being consumed by the Great Fire, the coach slowed significantly. They were now within the confines of the ancient City of London, that enclave of business and trade that frequently made its own laws and ignored those of greater London. When the coach made a wide right turn into a narrow, dirty street, Letty realized that she had misjudged the neighborhood.
Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] Page 17