by Jane Ashford
Almost immediately, Lady Castlereagh’s stately butler revealed the reason that the guests remained bundled up. A tour of her ladyship’s menagerie was the first item of entertainment. He divided the herd of guests into smaller groups and sent them out a pair of French doors at intervals.
John and Mary were in the fifth group to exit. Arm-in-arm, they walked down a gravel path with their designated companions. The day was sunny, at least, and not terribly cold. Mary wondered what their hosts would have done if it had featured one of the cold, soaking rains common to November?
As they walked, people struggled to find something to admire in the winter garden. One woman spoke nervously of the tiger. “It is in a cage, Susan,” replied her husband. “It cannot get at you.”
A roar from up ahead made the woman jump.
And then the menagerie came into sight, a cluster of cages, sheds, and fenced enclosures housing her ladyship’s collection. The tiger was immediately visible—right up front and clearly a great feature of the place. He was huge and striped and snarling as he paced his cage. He looked like he was longing to eat one—or more—of the people gaping at him, Mary thought. She didn’t entirely blame him.
Lady Castlereagh stood in the midst of it all like a very superior sort of tour guide. “This creature is called a ‘kangaroo,’” she was telling the group ahead of them. “It is native to Australia and was sent to me by the colonial governor there.”
The odd-looking animal leaped as if it had springs. Its head seemed very small in proportion to its massive legs.
“I wager the convicts wish they could hop it like that,” murmured a man near Mary.
“And these are African antelopes,” their hostess continued, pitching her voice to reach the newcomers.
“Lady Castlereagh! Ma’am!” came a call behind them.
“Fordyce,” said John. “One can never escape the fellow.”
They turned to see Edmund Fordyce hurrying along the path. Two footmen behind him carried a large wooden crate, and he urged them on impatiently. As he passed John and Mary, completely ignoring them, Mary thought of sticking out a foot and tripping him. But too many people were watching.
Fordyce stopped before Lady Castlereagh and signaled to the footmen. “Put it down, put it down. Just there.” They set the crate at her feet. “You may go,” added Fordyce with a lordly wave. The footmen retreated.
Mary caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned to find William Conolly and Lady Caroline Lanford drifting up the path from the house. Astonishingly, Arthur Windly was with them, lurking behind Caroline’s skirts. The look of anticipation on all their faces roused Mary’s suspicions. She’d been so busy and preoccupied that she hadn’t really paid attention, but… Various odd occurrences suddenly popped into her mind and linked together. Combined, they suggested that Caroline and Conolly had not given up the idea of playing a prank on Fordyce. Quite the contrary.
“I’ve brought you an addition to your collection,” said Fordyce, voice pitched so that everyone within fifty feet could hear. “One you’ve been quite keen to acquire, I understand.”
Lady Castlereagh looked interested. People moved closer, anticipating a show, forming a loose circle around the pair.
“As you know, I was a key member of the China mission,” Fordyce went on. He was really as pompous as it was possible to be, Mary thought.
John snorted.
“And in honor of that historic voyage…” He paused for dramatic effect.
“Historically unsuccessful,” muttered John. Mary pressed his arm in solidarity and to suggest that he might want to stay quiet.
“I present you with an exotic golden monkey from the wilds of the Orient.” With a flourish, Fordyce lifted the lid of the crate. The crowd leaned forward.
A small round head popped up. The monkey’s fur was gold, Mary saw, not smooth and brown like pictures she’d seen.
A pair of golden arms rose over the top of the crate. But…that was strange. The animal’s fur was brown—a rather mottled brown—under its arms. There was a darker patch beneath its chin, too. Mary wondered if they were some kind of markings.
And then in a flash, the monkey was up and out, balancing on the rim of its prison, gazing this way and that with preternatural alertness. Fordyce put a proprietary hand on its shoulder. The creature bared its teeth, unexpectedly formidable, and snapped at him, nearly taking off a bit of finger. Fordyce emitted a surprisingly high-pitched sound and jumped backward.
Startled, the monkey gathered itself and leaped—directly at Lady Castlereagh.
She did not scream. Her hands went up as if to catch it.
The monkey twisted in midair, eluded her grasp, caromed off her shoulder, and hopped onto her head. Its hands scrabbled at her fashionable bonnet. Bits of feather and straw sifted down like flakes of sunlight. The monkey sat up and looked around like a statue at the top of a plinth. Mary choked back a laugh.
“No!” cried Fordyce, eyes popping. “Don’t! Stop that! The creature is trained. I was assured it was well trained.”
Lady Castlereagh reached up, her head shifting with the movement. Unable to maintain its perch among the false flowers and ribbons, the monkey wobbled, recovered, bounced off Lady Castlereagh’s shoulder once again, and jumped to the ground. It started toward Fordyce, chittering as if trying to communicate distress. He backed away, fearfully fluttering his hands. “No. Down, sit, you wretched little…” The monkey ran at him, arms out, eyes wild. Fordyce aimed a kick at it. “Keep away from me!” When it bared its teeth again, he turned tail and raced for the house. He was surprisingly fast.
A nearby gentleman lunged as if to capture the animal. It flinched and scampered off to the left. Brought to bay by the circle of onlookers, it dithered, then darted toward a stately woman in a voluminous black cloak. The lady shrank back—she had been pointed out to Mary as a duchess—and then jumped and screamed as the animal burrowed in beneath her wide skirts.
The crowd froze in horror. Mary heard a gurgle behind her and knew it was Caroline. She didn’t dare look at her or at Conolly.
The duchess screamed again and twitched. “Get it away, get it away!” She jumped and cried, “Help!”
Someone must do something, Mary thought. Where had those footmen gone? But they were nowhere in sight. Everyone else just stood about looking horrified. She heard John take a breath, and then he had dropped her arm and stepped forward. He made a bow before the duchess. “If your grace would forgive a…an intrusion?”
The woman screamed and jumped again. She shook her skirts, to no avail. “Yes, yes, just get it away. However you can!”
Like a courtier from the last century, John bowed even lower. “Be silent, please,” he said to the crowd. Then he crouched so as to be closer to the monkey’s level. With one deft twitch, he raised an edge of the duchess’s skirts, averting his eyes from her flounced underdrawers. As a collective gasp passed through the crowd, he held out a hand to the cowering monkey. The creature shrank back, trembling. John remained still, hand extended. The animal watched him.
Finally, when John simply waited without threatening, the monkey crept forward. Tentatively, with some false starts, it reached out and took John’s hand. He let the duchess’s skirts fall behind it. The crowd exhaled. The duchess took a step back, and then another, and another. The crowd parted to let her by as she turned and headed full speed for the house.
The monkey whimpered. John encouraged it to come closer. When the crowd started to erupt in a babble of comment, he silenced them with a quick gesture of his free hand.
“Where is Bowman?” said Lady Castlereagh. To Mary’s awed admiration, she acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
A man who looked like an upper servant was already pushing his way through the press of guests. “Your ladyship. I beg your pardon! No one told me we had a new animal arriv…”
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br /> “We did not know,” interrupted their hostess. She spared one glance for the path Fordyce had taken in his flight. “Do you think it should go back in its crate for now? Until we can prepare better quarters?”
“Let’s see, your ladyship.” The man hurried over to John and knelt beside him. Carefully, he held out a hand. “Now then young…lass,” he said. “I expect you’re sick to death of that crate. Wouldn’t you rather come along with me and see what we can find for you to eat? Something right tasty, eh?”
As if it understood, or perhaps recognized the kind authority in Bowman’s voice, the monkey released John’s hand. With something that looked very much like relief on its little face, it went to the other man and wrapped its arms around his neck. “There we are,” Bowman said in the same soothing tone. His voice was so reassuring, Mary thought; it positively made one want to do whatever he suggested. Bowman touched the golden fur gently, looking puzzled. “And some nice warm bedding, too. I expect you’re tired out.”
The monkey hid its face on his shoulder. Holding the animal, Bowman slowly rose. “I’ll take her off to get settled, your ladyship.”
“Thank you, Bowman.” As he turned away, she added, “That fur?”
“Don’t believe it’s a natural color, ma’am. Which is right odd. Never seen anything like it.”
“Yes,” replied Lady Castlereagh, as if he’d confirmed her own conclusions. “We’ll have to ask Mr. Fordyce about that, should he ever dare to show his face again.” With a nod that promised retribution, she turned away. “If you’ll come this way, we will see the aviary,” she said, the serene guide once again.
Now, finally, Mary dared turn and find Caroline and Conolly and Arthur. From the way their eyes danced, she knew that they’d been behind this and that they were beyond pleased with the result. She started toward them.
She’d taken only a step, when something flickered in the corner of her eye—a flash of movement behind the backs of the guests. Mary peered around a tall man and saw someone running across the lawn. She caught the merest glimpse, but it was enough. “John, it’s him! The man who was following you.”
The fellow pulled a pistol from under his cloak as he ran. He brandished it at a small group of men coming down the path from the house. One of them was Lord Castlereagh, Mary saw. She pushed through the circle of guests.
The intruder aimed the pistol at England’s foreign secretary.
“Robert!” screamed Lady Castlereagh.
“Get down, sir,” shouted John, already running.
One of his companions pushed Lord Castlereagh down. The muzzle of the pistol followed his movement. John pounded across the grass still feet away.
He wouldn’t make it in time, Mary thought. The man was going to shoot. Acting on instinct, she drew back her arm and threw her reticule as hard as she could at the assailant. The woven cotton pouch arced up turning in the air, drawstrings fluttering. It hit harmlessly on the man’s shoulder, but the threat of a missile distracted him just long enough for John to crash into his midsection.
The fellow’s arms flailed with the impact. The pistol swung wildly upward and discharged, shockingly loud, into the air. John’s momentum carried them both to the ground. In another moment, a host of other men had piled on top of him.
The party dissolved into chattering chaos. Guests who had been frozen with horror recovered, gestured, and exclaimed. Women grew faint and called for vinaigrettes; men stamped about and blustered. Lady Castlereagh rushed to her husband and clung to his arm. The intruder was yanked to his feet, searched, and hauled off by John and others.
Now that it was over, Mary found she was trembling, her legs quite unsteady. She was wishing for a garden bench to sink onto when William Conolly appeared at her side. “Bravo, Mrs. Bexley. Very quick thinking.”
“I didn’t even think,” she replied shakily.
“And that is even more laudable. You were able to act when the rest of us stood gaping.” He took her arm, and she leaned on him a little.
“I don’t know why…”
“Because your drawings had prepared you for trouble. And John, of course. I see now why he was such a boon during that shipwreck.”
Arthur ran up with her reticule. “That was champion!” he declared, handing it to her.
“You were magnificent,” said Caroline, coming up behind the boy. “Oh, why didn’t I think to do that? I just stood there like a ninny with my mouth hanging open.”
“And eyes bulging,” said Conolly.
Caroline struck his shoulder with a playful familiarity that made Mary examine them thoughtfully. But she had a more pressing concern. “What is Arthur doing here?”
Arthur backed up until he was half-hidden by Caroline.
“Allow me to escort you inside and get you some tea,” Conolly said to her then, smoothly distracting. “I’m sure you could use a warming beverage. And I daresay you won’t see John for a while.”
But Conolly was wrong. Ten minutes later a footman came for Mary and escorted her to a book-lined study. She found her husband awaiting her there, along with Lord Castlereagh and a number of other important-looking gentlemen. The only one she recognized was Lord Amherst. John had pointed out the leader of his China expedition earlier. “I told you he had great promise,” the man was saying to Castlereagh. He clapped John on the shoulder. “A sharp mind and not afraid to act. It’s a rare combination.”
John looked surprised, then moved. Mary nearly burst with pride. She was startled when Lord Amherst shifted his gaze to her and added, “And I believe my secretary’s recent recommendation has been fully vindicated.”
Lord Castlereagh smiled. “I thank you for your quick thinking today.” He nodded to include Mary. “Both of you. I must ask, however, that you do not speak about it to anyone. Assassination attempts by foreign spies are not good for a country’s morale.”
“But won’t everyone be talking about it?” Mary ventured. Indeed, she knew they already were. The buzz of conversation could be heard even through the closed door.
“We have people circulating through the crowd, making sure that the story is as garbled as it can possibly be,” he answered. “And that the…unfortunate bits are decried as gross exaggeration. Others will spread the tale in town as we wish it to be remembered.”
Could one really manage gossip? Mary wondered. Well, if anyone could, it was the Castlereaghs.
“I wanted to be sure you knew that you have my gratitude,” the foreign secretary continued, “since your actions will not be a great feature in the tale we spread. Bexley, you’ve done more than your duty. I shall indeed expect great things from you. And, Mrs. Bexley, I understand you’re a very talented young woman.”
A part of her still wanted to duck her head and demur. Mary resolutely pushed it aside and stood straighter. She nodded, accepting the compliment. Yes, she was.
“It’s been suggested that we might wish to call on those talents, now and then, at the Foreign Office to help with our endeavors. If you are amenable.”
This was more than she’d ever imagined. In fact, she couldn’t quite believe it. “Make drawings, you mean? Of people who…”
“Are of…interest to us. Yes.” The foreign secretary glanced at John and then back to her. “We would make certain that you could do it safely, of course, and completely confidentially.”
“I’d…I’d love to!” Mary burst out. This was vindication beyond anything she could have imagined.
Despite the presence of his ultimate superiors, John took her hand. The pride shining in his face made Mary’s eyes burn. Ferociously, she blinked back the tears. She was not going to blubber in this august company.
“Splendid,” said Lord Castlereagh. “Thank you.” The men around him gave cordial nods.
And so they were dismissed. A footman took them back along a private corridor and eased them into a quiet corne
r of the reception. Mary doubted that anyone had noticed their absence. Or…almost anyone. Seconds after their return, Lady Caroline and William Conolly pounced, Arthur trailing behind them. “Where were you?” demanded Caroline. “What’s going on?”
“I’m nearly starved,” John answered. It was the truth. But even more he needed to divert his wife’s ever-curious friend. “Shall we go find the buffet?”
“But we want to hear all about…”
John interrupted her. “Speaking of hearing all about. Would you care to explain that debacle with the monkey?”
“Explain?” said Conolly blandly. “How would we be able to…?”
But John was gazing sternly at Arthur, clearly the weak link in their conspiracy. Under his eye, the boy squirmed and shuffled and then blurted, “It was an adventure, just like you told me.”
“I told you?”
“Come further away from the others,” Conolly said, leading the group to a spot devoid of other guests.
“You said I should have adventures,” Arthur said then. “Instead of going to see the steam engine. So when Lady Caroline asked if I could help at the place where they were keeping the monkey…”
“Which hit you in the eye,” Mary put in.
“It did, the little bugger. And I was only trying to give it a bit of fruit.”
“So you, ah, welcomed the opportunity to join their plot?” John asked, pointing to Conolly and Caroline.
Arthur stood straighter. “I offered my services, like. I was in charge of feeding the…creature.”
“With food from my kitchen,” said Mary.
“Lady Caroline said you wouldn’t mind.”
“Really?”
Under her irritated eye, Caroline abandoned the pretense of denial. “I couldn’t always be going out with a basket of vegetables. What was I to tell Grandmamma? Anyway, how could you object? Was that not the best prank ever?”
“Will you talk more quietly,” hissed Conolly. Caroline’s voice had risen in delight.