by Louise Allen
‘And intelligent enough to think up some complex revenge?’ I asked. ‘What if he took her to hold her for long enough that when he let her go she would be ruined? He might have no intention to physically harm her, only to punish her for making him look like an idiot. What if his friends “discovered” her in a horribly compromising situation after several weeks?’
Sir Clement had gone very pale. ‘I took him up on some error he made during a discussion at the Royal Society a few months back,’ he said. ‘He had made a sweeping statement in that supercilious way he has, utterly confident in his own judgment. Only he was wrong and I pointed it out and Sir Joseph Banks said something quite cutting about the arrogance of youth.’
‘So he has every reason for wanting revenge on you too,’ Lucian said thoughtfully. ‘We must investigate his movements.’
‘I will see what I can establish, my lord.’ Garrick made a note on a scrap of paper.
‘And I want to talk to him,’ I said. ‘Is that possible?’
‘It is if we can get you a voucher for Almack’s,’ Lucian said. ‘I must see what I can do. I have two days to charm a few Patronesses before the next assembly.’ He stood up and pinned the heading Wraxall to the board. ‘Not that we have the slightest evidence other than a motive for wishing her ill.’
‘As for anyone else,’ I said, getting back to my tea party talks and trying not to get over-excited about the prospect of Almack’s, ‘They all agreed that de Forrest is inclined to touch too much – I noticed that – but no-one accused him of anything more. But what did surprise me was that Arabella is Cottingham’s step-sister. I hadn’t realised that.’
‘Why yes.’ Lucian seemed surprised that I even thought it worth mentioning. ‘That is why her surname is Trenton and his is Felbrigg.’
‘As no-one told me his family name and we’ve been talking about him as Cottingham, it is hardly surprising I didn’t know,’ I pointed out rather acidly.
Lucian shrugged. ‘It is the same thing as being her brother, effectively. Certainly that is the view of the church and the law. It makes no difference to his legal position as her trustee and guardian, for example.’
‘Some of the friends thought she was frightened of him. Not physically, but of his strictness and of his displeasure.’
Again, none of them appeared to find that strange. It was, I reminded myself, an age where a man was legally allowed to beat his wife provided the rod he used was no thicker than his thumb. I could not believe that Lucian, James, Garrick or Sir Clement would ever strike a woman, but it was clear that they accepted Cottingham’s dominance over his step-sister as perfectly reasonable.
I got up and amended the notes under Cottingham’s name to say ‘Stepbrother’, then sat down feeling utterly depressed that was all the progress we had made. When I looked around the table the men appeared as low as I was. Sir Clement had his face buried in his hands, Garrick’s fists were clenched on the table, James tossed a coin from right to left while he scowled at it and Lucian sat with his long, elegant hands spread either side of a sheet of notes as though daring it to make a move.
Garrick had a battered old silver ring on his wedding ring finger. I wondered if he was a widower and chided myself for not noticing before and taking an interest. The other three all had signet rings on their left little fingers.
‘The abductor wore a ring on his right hand,’ I said, thinking out loud. ‘Is that usual?’
They all looked down at their own hands. ‘No,’ James said. ‘At least, not so much now. Father used to wear several, two or three on each hand, do you remember, Luc? But these days men dress more simply and fists full of rings appear somewhat vulgar. No-one wears many. Wedding ring, a signet or some old family piece…’
‘Lord de Forrest wears a ring on his right hand.’ I closed my eyes, trying to remember it. ‘I am sure it is gold. He patted my hand in a rather too familiar way the other evening and he knocked my knuckles with it. I didn’t pay much attention, but I am sure it wasn’t an antique. It was quite bright and shiny with a dark red stone.’
‘So he does,’ James agreed after a moment’s thought. ‘But there have to be other men who do as well. It is clutching at straws.’
‘We have not identified any other men who are associated with Arabella,’ I pointed out. ‘Her stepbrother, de Forrest, Welney, Sir Clement and now Wraxall. Her friends are all intelligent and observant and they all gossip and share things between themselves. They are worried about Arabella and I am sure they would have mentioned anyone they had the slightest suspicion of. Obviously we have eliminated Sir Clement, and Welney seems highly unlikely to me. That leaves Cottingham – who appears very worried and is being kind to her maid in the expectation of getting Arabella back – or de Forrest, or an elaborate and cunning plot by Wraxall. Or an unknown lunatic.’
They nodded slowly in what looked like reluctant agreement.
‘I suppose there haven’t been any other mysterious disappearances, have there? We aren’t missing some serial sex offender snatching young ladies?’
‘No,’ Lucian said. ‘London must contain several, I have no doubt, but they have no need to risk snatching gentlewomen while the place is thronged with vulnerable women who no-one would miss.’
I remembered the body of the battered young woman in the morgue and repressed a shudder.
‘Arabella is not at home and de Forrest has rooms that are not much bigger than mine. If he has got an abducted woman in those his valet is in on it and probably his landlord as well,’ James observed.
‘Garrick?’ Lucian looked at his valet.
‘I will check immediately, my lord.’ He got up and went out.
‘We look like a week of wet Wednesdays,’ James observed. ‘We need cheering up. Cassie, what do you want to do?’
The thought of doing something for pleasure took me by surprise. There was the chance of Almack’s, but that must wait until Wednesday evening when the assemblies were held. I had driven through the City… ‘Vauxhall,’ I said. ‘Or Astley’s Amphitheatre. Or shopping.’
James reached for the copy of the Times that lay folded on a small table beside him and spread it out. He ran his finger down the advertisements on the front page. ‘Looks like a good show at Astley’s the day after tomorrow – that new tightrope dancer. Vauxhall has fireworks tonight. What about that?’
‘Oh, yes please. May we go, Lucian? All of us – you too, Sir Clement,’ I added when he looked dubious. ‘We need to clear our minds and do something completely different and if you are seen out and enjoying yourself in company that will help with the rumours that you have Arabella hidden away somewhere.’
‘Very well.’ I suspected he was humouring me, or simply being polite to me as Lucian’s foreign cousin, but I didn’t care. We were all too close to this puzzle and getting jaded. Tonight we were going out and having fun.
‘By water or by the bridge?’ James asked.
‘By water, please. And may we be rowed underneath Westminster Bridge so we can try the famous echo?’ I asked.
Lucian smiled that slow smile that made me want to grab him and kiss him senseless. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘It is famous. People took French horns and trumpets underneath to play music, didn’t… I mean, don’t they?’
‘Not so much now the novelty has worn off,’ James said. ‘But I agree, it is magical by water provided it is not raining. We can get Garrick to pick us up at the gates in the carriage afterwards.’
‘What should I wear?’
‘The blue and ribbons in your hair and around your neck as a choker, perhaps. No need to wear jewels and risk robbery,’ Lucian suggested. ‘If we have dinner at seven we can have supper there.’
‘Shaved ham?’ I had no idea what shaved ham was, exactly, but I knew that was what Vauxhall suppers were famous for.
‘Of course.’ James was grinning now. ‘You realise it is nothing out of the ordinary, simply ham sliced so thinly that they can make a vast profit by
it?’
‘If Cassie wants to experience Vauxhall, then she shall,’ Lucian said. ‘Shaved ham, arrack punch, disgracefully dark walks through the shrubbery and all.’
Was it my imagination, or was there heat in his gaze as he looked at me? The walks at Vauxhall were a maze of paths and grottos and poorly-lit glades, I had read. Very romantic and perfect for scandalous behaviour. I was beginning to feel a very definite need for some scandalous behaviour.
We talked about Vauxhall until Garrick returned with yet more negative information.
‘You are quite correct, sir,’ he told James. ‘Lord de Forrest has a suite of five rooms on the first floor of a very respectable house on Dover Street. I got into conversation with the housemaid.’ From his very lack of expression I assumed this had involved a fair amount of flirtation. ‘She is into all the rooms every day, cleaning, bringing coals and hot water. There would be nowhere to hide a cat, let alone a lady, by the sound of it, and all the rooms in the house are taken.’
James and Sir Clement took themselves off after they had agreed a time for the carriage to pick them up to take them to the Whitehall Stairs. Lucian had decided to give me the experience of a long trip by boat, going under Westminster Bridge and all the way to the Vauxhall Stairs.
I recognised the statue of Charles I that still stands at the northern end of Whitehall when we drove past, but behind it, where Trafalgar Square now lies, was a mass of unfamiliar buildings. I did recognise the Admiralty building though and, opposite as we turned sharply left along the northern side of the Banqueting House, the entrance to Horse Guards.
But when Garrick stopped the carriage and we got out we were amongst a narrow press of old buildings and Lucian led the way, not to the wide, high Embankment I was familiar with but what looked more like a harbour-side with wet stone steps leading down to the river.
‘Do we have to shout Oars!’ I queried.
‘Not with half a dozen boats already here,’ Lucian said, disappointing my fantasies. Perhaps I was thinking more of Samuel Pepys. He gestured to one of the larger boats, with two hefty men at the oars, and we climbed down cautiously. Lucian put me next to him in the stern and Sir Clement and James went in the bows, wrapping their cloaks around themselves to keep off the splashes.
‘The tide is coming in, which helps,’ Lucian observed. Even so, I was surprised at how fast we moved – and how chilly it was out on the water. I had thought Garrick had been making a fuss about finding me a heavy cloak, now I could see why.
But despite the chill it was romantic to be muffled up, huddled against Lucian with his arm around me as we passed upstream, the banks studded with pinpricks of lights from all the candles in windows and flambeaux and lanterns on the streets. Soon gas lights would spread across the entire city and this view of London would never be seen again. Except perhaps in the event of a massive power cut.
Chapter Twenty One
‘Here is Westminster Bridge. Hold tight, Cassie.’
The boatmen got the vessel straight and rowed hard for one of the arches. As we went under James burst into song and the sound bounced back, his words lost in the noise of the water rushing through the arches.
We all laughed and clapped and I turned to look at the Houses of Parliament – and of course, there was no Big Ben. In fact nothing very impressive at all, certainly not at night, just a huddle of old buildings. Now we were past Lambeth Palace the intensity of lights was dying down on both banks and it was almost as though we were in some country town, not the largest city on earth.
The men began to pull for the southern bank and the other water traffic increased, all of it, seemingly, full of laughing, chattering people on their way to Vauxhall and intent on starting the party early. We passed some vast warehouse-like buildings, then I saw the Vauxhall Steps, well-lit with lanterns and with a mass of boats jostling for position to set down their passengers.
When we finally bumped against the landing stage Lucian helped me out last, steering me around a group of young men who were talking loudly and passing a bottle between them.
‘Do not, whatever you do, go off on your own,’ he cautioned. ‘The company is very mixed indeed, the grounds are easy to get lost in and the lighting is deliberately poor. Bucks like that are out to kick up their heels and have sport. Snatching kisses, or worse, is part of their game.’
But the company was not as mixed as the smells. I thought I had become used to the odour of London streets – sweat and sewers and horses and coal smoke, and that was still present, but here partly submerged by perfume and cooking food and the scent of the river and trees.
The noise was heady too – music coming from a distance away, laughter, loud conversation, the press of a large number of people all determined to have a good time.
I was getting my eye in for social difference now, and I could see that the people passing through the narrow gates ran the gamut from Society ladies and gentlemen to humble clerks and shopkeepers. I clung to Lucian’s arm while he paid three shillings and sixpence each for us and guessed that was enough to keep out anyone who was not receiving a steady, respectable, wage.
My escort moved through the crowd with the air of men who were on familiar ground and we were soon past the worst of the crowd and into a more open space. Lucian showed a ticket to an attendant and we were ushered into a box, a wooden structure raised just above ground level and lit by lanterns. There was a table and chairs inside and, although it would probably look tawdry in daylight, at night it had all the glamour of a box at the theatre.
An orchestra was playing from a raised structure in a central stand and people were dancing in front of us. Waiters moved through the throng with loaded trays held high on one hand or supported on their shoulders and small groups and couples were wandering off into the tree-lined walks behind.
‘Dine, dance or stroll?’ Lucian asked.
‘I can’t dance these dances,’ I whispered with one eye on Sir Clement.
‘Of course.’ He turned his head so his face was close to mine and brushed a fleeting kiss across my cheek. ‘And supper can wait a little, I think.’ He snapped his fingers at a passing waiter and ordered wine. ‘We will watch for a while then order supper and take a walk while it is prepared, if that appeals?’
It did, very much, and the other men seemed happy with the suggestion too. People began to come up to the box to talk and I was soon introduced to more new faces than I could hope to remember. Lucian topped up my wine glass to the point where I lost all my nervousness about doing or saying the wrong thing, little almond biscuits appeared from somewhere and a rather drunk buck reeled over and tried to persuade me to dance with him until all three of my escort stood up as one and he backed off.
Even Sir Clement seemed to be enjoying himself, joining in when James began to sing along to the tune the band was playing.
‘Look.’ I pointed to the other side of the oval space that the boxes surrounded. ‘Lord Welney.’
James leaned over and passed me a pair of opera glasses on a stick. ‘Who is he with?’
‘An extraordinarily respectable-looking couple and three young ladies.’ I gave the glasses to Lucian, who used them and handed them along.
‘No-one I know. Clem?’
‘Man called Tanner, a City merchant with a lot of money,’ Sir Clement said after a glance through the lens. ‘He is after a title for one of his girls and a foot in the door in Society. Looks as though Welney has found his banker, provided he behaves himself until the fish is landed.’
The glasses had worked their way back down to me again. ‘Mr Tanner looks as though he has more sense than to make over a lot of money with no strings attached. I’ll bet he will keep Welney on a short leash.’
‘This puts Welney absolutely in the clear, I would say,’ James observed. ‘He would not try risky abductions if he had this fish on the line.’
‘Quite.’ Sir Clement was plunging into gloom again. ‘More negative information.’
‘Shall we have th
at stroll?’ I suggested, to break into his mood.
Lucian ordered supper in an hour and we left the box. James steered Sir Clement towards a building on the edge of the dance area saying something about Gresham’s new mistress that I guessed I was not supposed to overhear and Lucian tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and made for the little pathways.
Probably, in daylight, the wooded area would seem to be merely a large and tangled shrubbery, but at night, lit only by scattered hanging lanterns, which thinned out as paths moved away from the main walks, it was fairyland.
Couples appeared and disappeared, there were giggles and low, sensual laughter and Lucian turned down a path that was just wide enough for us to walk side by side. I could hear the tinkle of water and then we were in a little glade with a mossy pool in the centre and a fountain trickling over rocks.
Around the edge were three empty benches set into arbours and Lucian went to one. ‘Shall we sit a while?’
It felt daring and slightly wicked to be alone together, unchaperoned by even Garrick, and I realised just how much I had become immersed in this world, this time.
I turned towards Lucian but I could not see more than the pale oval of his face. ‘I can’t see you,’ I murmured, the atmosphere making me want to whisper.
‘Does that frighten you?’
‘No, because I know it is you, even if you had not spoken. I know the scent of you now. That smoky, citrus-ey cologne, whatever it is that Garrick uses on your neck cloths, your soap. Your skin.’ Clean male skin, slightly musky, entirely arousing.
Lucian made a sound that was almost a growl, deep in his throat, and kissed me.
He wanted more than kisses. So did I. When he pulled me onto his lap just how much he wanted me became very evident. Whether the part of my brain that was confused and conflicted about this entire situation was going to let us have what we both desired, remained to be seen. But here, now, I was going to kiss this man and probably a deal more.