The Rake's Reflection

by Lesley-Anne McLeod

  "With fresh eyes," commented Torgreave. "As I did Manningford. I hope it gives you the pleasure that Manningford did me. For myself, I would not care if I never saw London again."

  "I believe he meant it," commented Charles, once the door had closed behind them.

  Delia put her hand on his arm, and they descended the steps to the pavement. "I think so too," she agreed. "I know he is very weary, and goes out little except to search for information."

  "I expected...I don't know what..." Charles confided. "To find the house full of chéres amies, begging your pardon, or Greeks and ivory turners in the drawing room."

  "Your imagination does your brother little credit," Delia said. "If you desire the truth, Mrs. Inniskip might enlighten you."

  "I don't believe I wish to know. Perhaps it may all be in the past forever. I do hope so. Rupert and I were the best of friends as well as brothers you know, in our youth. He was very kind to me for all he was older. I quite worshipped him."

  "I think you still do," Delia observed. She waited as Charles pressed a coin into the hand of a small crossing sweeper with a red, frosted nose. There were a few hardy souls abroad, bundled in mufflers, greatcoats and cloaks. As they neared Bond Street, the carriage traffic grew heavier, but it was clear that the cold had deterred those without pressing errands.

  He flushed. "Perhaps you are right. Though I can hate what he has been and what he has done. I am thankful to be reconciled, I know that."

  They turned the corner from Grosvenor Street into New Bond Street. He halted without warning.

  "Good God," he exclaimed.

  "What is it?" queried Delia in some alarm. She could see nothing in the few fashionable folk they encountered to cause him such concern. "What is it?" she repeated, squeezing his arm to draw him from his reverie. It had begun to snow and she shivered a little.

  "Miss Slimbridge," he breathed. "With her sisters, and their governess."

  "Here in London? Where?" demanded Delia. She stared about them.

  "There! At the draper's window," he said impatiently. "I cannot see how they may have arrived so soon. Come, I shall make you acquainted."

  In vain Delia protested as they crossed the paving stones in the thickly gathering snow. Short of running away however, she could do nothing to prevent Charles from introducing her to his beloved.

  "Miss Slimbridge!"

  The young lady he addressed whirled at the first sound of his voice. Her sweet, rather sad, face was transformed by joy at the sight of him. Her sisters, one of them no more than a child, stared, then smiled in recognition.

  On an impulse, Delia put back her veil, and smiled at the young ladies. Charles performed the introductions. He characterized her as his cousin, and she could not, without creating concern, deny it.

  "How come you to be in London even now?" the rector queried, in perplexity.

  As Miss Slimbridge framed her answer, Delia surveyed her discreetly. She was of medium height, modishly but modestly dressed as befitted one not yet out. She was possessed of melting brown eyes and auburn ringlets peeping from the brim of her silk velvet bonnet.

  The young lovers were oblivious to the snow, and their attachment was plain to Delia. She smiled at the middle-aged governess who, apparently deeming Delia trustworthy to chaperon her eldest charge, ushered the younger ladies into the draper's.

  "Papa sent us ahead. He is still at Manningford ordering our packing. You must know he had intended the Season in London this year anyway. He had little difficulty in hiring a house in North Audley Street."

  "Was he very angry?" Charles asked. "In my hurry to confront Rupert, I did not wait upon Sir Thomas' reaction."

  "Oh no," denied Miss Slimbridge. "In fact, he said to Mama that it was no more than the earl should do, come home that is, and that he thought a little better of him for it."

  Hope dawned in Charles' face. "Is there a possibility...?" he breathed.

  "I do not know; I dare not hope." The young lady shook her head, and snow swirled from her bonnet. "Perhaps if you could call? Upon Mama of course. If Miss Tyninghame came?"

  Delia thought she could allow herself to be drawn into the affair. She was most willing to aid the young couple, and such assistance surely would not alter her intention to remain incognito in society. She had no opportunity to speak for Miss Slimbridge was continuing.

  "But you said nothing of coming to London, Charles."

  "I had no time to see you. You will remember that I told you my brother and I were reconciled. Well, I was angry with him, when I heard from Dougherty about Sir Thomas' lease. I determined to confront him. All is well though. He did end your father's lease with some consideration for me. For us. He thought it might help. And now that my cousin -- Miss Tyninghame -- has joined us, there may be hope."

  Delia started at a touch on her arm. She drew down her veil and turned as she was greeted by a familiar blithe voice.

  "Good day, Miss Tyninghame." It was Mr. Taunton who spoke. He continued gaily, observing snow gathering on the threesome. "You present an icy tableau standing here."

  Charles swung round, and Taunton's eyes widened at the sight of him.

  "I thought you Rupert," he said, "but it is Charles, is it not?" He extended his hand. "You do remember me?"

  Charles grasped the hand and assured its owner, with some reserve, "I do, Taunton, though I was the veriest stripling when we met."

  "But this lady I do not know." The honourable gentleman's gray gaze was resting enquiringly upon Miss Slimbridge's pretty face.

  Delia was amused to see Charles bristle protectively as he performed the introductions. He was obviously aware of Hugh Taunton's reputation as a womanizer. When Miss Slimbridge had curtsied shyly to Mr. Taunton, Charles abruptly added, "Susannah, we will wait upon Lady Slimbridge. You must go within. There is your governess."

  The older woman's face had appeared in the draper's window, incongruously surrounded by calicos of gorgeous pattern and bright hue.

  Miss Slimbridge gave him her hand, and he lifted it to his lips. Delia was touched by the misery of separation in both faces. They were kept apart solely because of Rupert's reputation. She could summon a little anger with Rupert for it. And she was annoyed with the pompous baronet who judged Torgreave on heresay without knowing him at all.

  Curiosity was writ large in Taunton's expression.

  "All will be well," Delia heard herself saying brightly. "We will call. Mr. Taunton, good day to you."

  Miss Slimbridge went within the shop, and Delia lingered with Charles at his insistence. He wished to ensure, he said, that Taunton went on his way, and did not seek to further his acquaintance with Susannah.

  ***

  Torgreave was blunt, when the next day Delia recounted the whole to him in his library. "You cannot call upon the Slimbridges."

  "They will not know my face," she pointed out. "They do not know yours. We would present a respectable family facade to them. It may make a great difference to Charles' future happiness."

  His grim visage softened, surveying her hopeful expression.

  "Sir Thomas and I have not met, it is true. But you may encounter other members of the ton who do know me."

  "It is unlikely. The Slimbridges' acquaintance will differ greatly from yours. But there is a possibility, so I think we should put about our relationship. We shall say we are cousins. Charles has already claimed it, before Miss Slimbridge. It will cause a little wonder perhaps, but it may be we will never have to tell of closer connection."

  "You will not be distressed by gossip?" he asked.

  "I do not mean to go into society. I mean only to entertain Miss Slimbridge, and perhaps Mr. Taunton's sister. You will remember she is to have a Season. It would aid Susannah to have a worldly friend."

  "You display a sisterly concern for Charles' welfare," he observed. He idly turned his orrery, but with a tense hand.

  "I feel a sisterly concern for him. I have not felt such an emotion since Julian died," she said in a low
voice.

  He said nothing, but spun the earth about the sun with his long fingers.

  She had recovered her composure. The orrery brought something else to mind. "I was mortified to discover that I had accused you of raking about town, when in fact you were in attendance at a Royal Institution meeting."

  He moved away from the model of the solar system as if to disclaim any interest, and shrugged his wide shoulders. "My friends talk too much. I have an interest in astronomy. It is not wonderful but to them."

  "I think it intriguing that you have a scientific bent."

  "I could as easily have been occupied as you thought," he snarled.

  She took a step away from his anger.

  The polished door opened to admit Charles. "A messenger has come for you Rupert, from Major Rhyle." Charles told his brother. "He wishes you would attend him at the Foreign Office, at your earliest convenience."

  The earl's head snapped up. A preoccupied, concerned expression replaced the self-directed anger in his face. "You will excuse me," he said absently and stalked from the room.

  His brother remained to stare at Delia. "What can this be about?" Charles said. "I remember Rhyle. He has long been a friend of my brother's. I believe he thought me a poor thing for not supporting Rupert against my father."

  Delia was regarding the orrery thoughtfully. "The Major's loyalty to Rupert is remarkable. But he cannot fault you for honouring your father, even at Rupert's expense. He would not dislike you for it. He has been Rupert's best friend, and for that I am grateful to him."

  "This is a worry," Charles continued, going to the window. There was naught but a frosty fog visible, but still he stared.

  "Why should a message from Rhyle be a worry?" Her curiosity was aroused. She considered Charles' back, her head tilted, her brows lifted.

  "It has to do with the war. More to Rupert's discredit," the young man warned. He swung round to display a worried frown.

  "Tell me," Delia demanded.

  "I mentioned it previously. There have been stories for years -- all through the hostilities -- that he was a spy for the French. I cannot credit it, but it is true that he was much abroad even during the conflict. Few others were. He speaks French as a native. Rumours of his involvement traveled even to me in Leicestershire."

  "Rumours! Are there no facts?" Delia paced the room in agitation.

  "None. But if he is summoned to the Foreign Office, his involvement may be revealed," Charles' tone was worried. "It may be that he will be badgered or even prosecuted now that the war is settled."

  "I will not believe it! Indeed I cannot imagine that Major Rhyle and his other friends would stand by him while he carried out such activities." She paused her prowling and rested her trembling hands on Rupert's wide desk.

  "Unless they were watching him, gathering information." Charles would not be reassured.

  "Would he go to the Foreign Office so readily then? If he feared exposure?" Her eyes widened in anxiety.

  Charles shrugged, with a gesture peculiarly like his brother's. "Torgreave is not a man whom one asks for explanations. He will inform us about the encounter if and when he wishes."

  As they spoke, the earl was meeting with Major Rhyle and a minister of the Prince Regent's Council. He had done it often enough before. He accepted a glass of wine from his friend, and when no one spoke he said, "What is the nature of my summons? I understood my usefulness was at an end."

  "It is, except that, unexpectedly, your connection may be revealed." The minister spoke in measured tones, as though addressing the House of Lords.

  "It was not to be," exclaimed the earl.

  The gentleman shrugged. "With Louis Philippe and the other crowned heads congregating here over the next months, Prinny has decided otherwise."

  "He wants heroes to present, models to display so that he may bask in reflected glory. You must know his popular appeal is low." The major regarded his friend sympathetically.

  "Knowledge of your assistance will only enhance your otherwise dubious reputation." The minister seemed to feel he had offered a valuable incentive.

  "I will not have it," the earl stated, disabusing the minister of that particular notion. He stared grimly at the other men.

  Major Rhyle, at least, it appeared, correctly assessed the anger he was withholding.

  "I shall not be in town in any event. I shall have to journey soon to Edinburgh, on private business."

  The minister shook his head. "You must not leave London. Your involvement will be revealed and the Prince Regent wishes you here," he said.

  The earl rose and strode up and down the room. "The Prince Regent may go to the devil."

  The Councilor stared at him, obviously affronted. Then he transferred his cold gaze pointedly to the major for a long minute, and abruptly left the room.

  "You are left to talk me 'round." Torgreave laughed, without mirth. "Well you will not. I want to speak with Prinny about this, Gideon."

  "Lady Henry's rout is two days hence. You should be able to..."

  "A private audience, Gideon! Don't be obtuse."

  "You cannot go to Edinburgh, not now," his friend warned. "I understand Charles is with you," he added, in a transparent attempt to distract the earl.

  "He is," Torgreave confirmed. "You heard it from Hugh no doubt. We had a comfortable visit the other day, the four of us, with Hugh staring at our three similar faces. You would have laughed at the scene. Hugh thought, for some reason, that he had still to protect me from Charles' rejection. Charles was intent on preserving me from Taunton's loose morals."

  "Sounds unpleasant."

  Rupert turned away from the major's examination. "It was ridiculous. Delia was amused." He paused, then continued, more briskly, "In any event, regardless of Charles' presence as a guest in my home, I will go to Edinburgh when I wish. And I want that appointment with the Regent, Gideon. I want you to arrange it."

  The two men assessed each other. Then swinging about, the earl strode out of the room, closing the door with unnecessary emphasis in his wake.

  ***

  Rupert found his brother and Delia in the drawing room on his return. He had no intention of satisfying the curiosity he saw writ on their faces.

  "It is snowing very heavily without," he commented, crossing to the fire to warm himself.

  He was not surprised when Delia ventured, "Your summons from Major Rhyle was urgent?"

  Rupert turned in time to see Charles cast a worried look at her, apparently questioning her daring.

  "A matter of little moment," he snapped. He offered no further explanation but said, "This snowfall concerns me. I've not seen it this heavy that I recall. Inniskip must lay in supplies. The markets may run low."

  "Surely it cannot be so bad." Charles crossed to stare from the window. His statement was refuted by a glance. A cold, white curtain concealed the square without.

  "It is, and it is damnably inconvenient too. Delia, I have been considering that we must travel to Edinburgh. There seems no information to be got here, and information we must have."

  "Can you leave London at this time?" Charles looked surprised at his own audacity.

  "Not with this snow."

  "That was not what I meant. After your meeting this day, can you leave town?"

  "Why should I not?" Rupert asked.

  "I...I thought your visit today might have precluded it," Charles stammered.

  "I took a glass of wine with Rhyle," the earl said blandly. "I will go to Edinburgh if I wish." His voice and gaze gentled as he spoke to Delia. "Will you reflect on it and tell me what you think?"

  "And what of Charles if we go?" she murmured. She returned his scrutiny.

  "Charles may reside here as long as he wishes. He must regard this as his home. He desires to further his romance. He may do it...without your support."

  "I must return to Manningford presently." Charles worried about his living, apparently diverted from other concerns. "My curate must not be depended upon forever
."

  "We shall none of us go anywhere very soon, if this snow continues," the earl predicted.

  ***

  The snow did continue. Over the following days, it proved to be an historic fall. The streets became nearly impassable. Food and coal were, in some quarters, in short supply. Torgreave's prognostication was correct. Journeys beyond the confines of Mayfair were difficult. It became unthinkable to leave London.

  Rupert chafed at the necessity to remain in London when he wished to travel to Edinburgh. But he could not deny he was content and comfortable in Grosvenor Street, with Charles and Delia's company.

  He did not fully realize how accustomed he had become to their presence until one morning when he entered the breakfast parlour to find it unoccupied. As Charles was generally arose before him, and Delia not long after him, he wondered at their absence. He missed their exchange of observations. After half of an hour, when they still had not appeared, he pulled the bell. There was no immediate response. Even servants, it appeared, were in short supply. The housemaid who eventually answered his summons had no knowledge of the whereabouts of Delia or Charles. As well, he was informed that Bowland had gone to the mews, and Mrs. Inniskip was unavailable. He instructed that whoever first returned was to come to him.

  He endeavoured to concentrate upon a baked egg and some gammon, but soon gave up the attempt and went to search the house. A tour of the library, drawing room and morning room revealed no one. He strode up another flight of stairs. His sudden appearance and his black frown startling another housemaid who carried a scuttle.

  He looked into Charles' room. It was empty and remarkable for its tidiness. Then he tapped on the door of Delia's bedchamber. When there was no response to his second knock, he turned the handle and stepped in. She was not there, but the chamber whispered with the elusive scent of tuberose. He stalked to the window to drag open the damask curtains. The dim light without did little to illuminate the room. He could just see a pair of silk slippers resting near the curtained bed, which was unmade. He breathed a sharp sigh of relief on seeing the press still filled with neatly folded garments.