“I’m not; he owns me,” said Jane. “We had to arrest his owner for attempted murder, in which she almost succeeded in poisoning poor Nat, and would have killed our Simon as well as the boy she wanted dead. Nat had nowhere else to go.”
“That explains a lot,” laughed the Beau. Jane gave a small, demure smile.
“How are you, and how are those of your family you are still talking to?” she eyed him with amusement, always amazed at the lengths he went to, in order to dress in such a way as to be written off as a dandy of no account. His bow was stiff for the exceedingly high neck cloth he wore, and Jane suspected him of using a corset to hide the muscular build he concealed in his work as a spy within society. It creaked a bit under his cherry coloured waistcoat. He had bowed to the largely accepted dictates of Beau Brummel, even though that worthy had been forced abroad by debts and his quarrel with the Prince of Wales, and his coat was a very dark claret colour over his yellow Inexpressibles.
“Surprisingly enough, I’ve managed to keep on speaking terms with all those I was on speaking terms with when we last met,” he said. “Luke decided he was going to marry the yeoman farmer’s daughter after all; mostly on the grounds that she was a better conversationalist than most of the ladies he knew, and I gifted him some land adjacent to the farm as a wedding present. He’ll hire a manager when old Reed dies, and will lose less money by paying out for the wages of the same than by trying to run it himself. The girl reads novels, and passes well enough in country society and has no ambition for any more, which is just as well since Luke, for all his airs, is suited to be a country squire.”
“I am glad he did the right thing by her, and is happy with the arrangement too. I take it he is, or you would animadvert upon the situation with sarcasm?”
“Yes, he’s happy enough. Had the acumen to buy out a couple of colts broken too early and throwing out splints, but from good bloodstock, he’s using them purely as stud and selling the resultant colts to accredited trainers. Less profit than selling them trained, but a more sure thing.”
“And what of the Kemps?”
The Beau shuddered.
“The Rev. Kemp irritated me enough to press charges. I’ve taken the children as my wards, having petitioned to have them removed from a most insalubrious household, and cousin Nessie stayed on as chaperone to Emma. I rather thought Nessie might be going to marry the family solicitor, he certainly came courting, but she sent him on his way, and then cried all over me. Said that though marriage was security, she was only twenty-four, and it might be vanity, but she did not want to be leg-shackled to an old man. Have to say, I took her point. One forgets she’s the same age as you, Lady Armitage, she flutters enough to be twenty years older.”
“And you should realise by now all that fluttering is an act to gain protection.”
“Yes, and she hardly flutters at all when taking care of Emma, I know.”
“And what of the, er, ‘Angel boys’?”
“The twins have improved considerably since being out of the influence of their wretch of a father, and I made Aunt Hester my pensioner because I don’t know what else to do with her, and sent her off to live in a boarding house in Brighton for the good of her health and the retaining of my sanity.”
“I couldn’t live with her,” said Jane.
“And Jane is the most tolerant person I know,” said Caleb, coming in. “Good to see you, Popham.” Fowler followed Caleb with the tea things, and Caleb reflected once again how suited Jane was to the dainty room, serving from the fine china. These days, at least, he no longer felt too big for the room or clumsy beside her.
“And you. I have to ask, how is the inestimable Simon?” the Beau raised an eyebrow.
Caleb and Jane shared a look.
“Inestimable!” they said with one voice.
“I asked for that.”
“He’s doing very well,” said Jane. “Henry Redmayne has abandoned thoughts of the law to open a schoolhouse, because he enjoys teaching so much, and has a few other pupils, including our nephews and a ward we took on last year.”
“Really? I must ask Gabriel and Michael if they’d like to do a year or two there, Simon made a favourable impression on them.”
“The more the merrier,” said Caleb. “And Gregory would like, I’m sure, to have friends near to him in age, even if Simon outstrips him at study.”
“Good, I’ll write to them and suggest it,” said the Beau. “They might be improved but we go through tutors at a fair rate, and the local grammar school virtually burned me in effigy for suggesting they go there, apparently they’d heard of them.”
Jane laughed.
“I doubt they’ll give Henry any trouble; he seems to keep the boys all interested,” she said.
“And it won’t do them any harm to have to deal with being surpassed by a younger boy,” said Popham. “By rights they should be away to university, they’re sixteen already, but they are not ready for it, academically or socially.”
“Henry will have them ready by the next academic year, I wager,” said Caleb.
“How much do you wager?” the Beau looked interested.
Caleb laughed.
“Oh, I don’t bet. It was a figure of speech,” he said.
“My first husband was a gambler; I dislike it,” said Jane, suppressing a shudder as she recalled Frank’s perfidies. It had been in this room that she had met Caleb, bringing news of Frank’s death.
“You should be careful, in society,” said the Beau, frowning thoughtfully. “In society betting is a way of life, and wagers are taken on anything – whether a man takes a particular woman as his mistress, which raindrop runs down the window first, whether a lady’s décolletage will fail her, not to mention sporting events. It means nothing, but if you say you wager something will happen, you’ll be taken seriously enough.”
Caleb whistled in surprise.
“I’ll be careful, Beau, thanks for the warning. I am not suited to all this flummery.”
“You’ll carry off the flummery very well, and so will the lovely Lady Armitage.”
“I’d as soon not have to do so, either, but a royal command is a royal command,” sighed Jane.
“Ah, well, partly it might have been my fault,” said the Beau, looking a little shifty.
“And how did that come about?” asked Caleb, narrowing his eyes.
“Well, I’ve been trying to clear up an ... anomaly,” said the Beau, “And I happened to be talking to Prinny, and he asked me if the man he had just knighted was the same one I’d mentioned in regard to my little family problem, who also had a clever wife. I, er, confirmed that this was so, having followed your exploits, you understand.”
“And he said that for a knight to present his lady in public and show off the demi-parure his highness had sent her would be quite a good idea and we were to help you, I suppose,” said Jane.
“More or less,” said the Beau.
“So what is this ... anomaly ... of yours?” asked Caleb. “And why choose that word?”
The Beau sipped the tea which Fowler had served while they exchanged pleasantries.
“Because I am not sure if it is a problem, or not,” he said. “People die, some younger than you’d expect, and that’s the way life is. But it seems to me that an uncommonly large number of people who need money have been inheriting sooner than might be expected; people with tolerable expectations but hale and healthy ancestors. Only those ancestors have been meeting with accidents. Too many accidents.”
“Accidents do happen, of course,” said Caleb. “But your instincts don’t like it?”
“That’s it exactly, Sir Caleb,” said the Beau. “Something feels wrong. And you are two fresh pairs of eyes whom, I am hoping, will see something I’ve missed. Because not one of the people who had inherited has been anywhere near their deceased relative at the time they died; all have been demonstrably elsewhere. And to me, that is almost as suspicious as anything else.”
Jane nodded.
“Yes, exactly,” said the Beau.
“Oh, well, it will make the tedium of society a little more interesting,” said Caleb. “Be careful what you wish for, Jane-girl, you were decrying an onerous duty.”
“So I was,” said Jane, dryly.
Chapter 2
Jane was not expecting a caller the next day, when Fowler announced,
“The Countess Lieven, my lady.”
Jane almost leaped to her feet like a gauche teenager. Caleb rose with alacrity and bowed with formality as Jane sank into a graceful curtsey. Nat disappeared under the chair.
“My lady, to what to we owe this honour?” asked Jane. Caleb pulled a chair forward and Lady Lieven, who had returned a brief curtsey, sank gracefully into it. She was a neat, slender woman, with dark hair and eyes. Her clothes spoke of quiet, but impeccable, style.
She smiled.
“Curiosity,” she said, with a faint, foreign inflexion. “Prince George asked if I would sponsor his latest knight and his lady to Almack’s, and I wished to meet you. Especially as rumour would have it that you are, Sir Caleb, a ... connexion of his highness.”
Caleb flushed.
“His highness was moved to be amused by the rumour, when I explained it to him,” he said. He had been mightily relieved that the Regent had been amused rather than angered. “I’m one of his most common of commoners, my lady. But I have a very loyal valet, and when I married my excellent wife, we lived for a while in the village where she was born, and there was, and as far as I know, still is, a most spiteful woman. My man started some counter rumours, and my son’s tutor, who was at the time a youth still at Oxford, thought it a tremendous lark to embellish the tale, and before I knew where I was, I had acquired an illustrious father whom I would not have chosen for myself, for my own father was an honest, hard-working man.”
He gave the Countess a limpid look. Fowler came in at that moment with tea, and Jane busied herself in making it.
The countess gave a delighted laugh.
“Why, if you put it that way to his highness, I am sure he did find it amusing, apart from Clarence he has little time for his brothers. And with a record of the army not the navy, naturally it was one of the others.” She smiled at Jane. “Milk, please, but no sugar.”
Caleb smiled ruefully, and went on,
“I believe Henry let others make up their own mind who it might be, and to be honest, I enjoyed the look on ... no names ... on the face of the female in question. The rumour grew in the telling, and Sir Nathanial Conant was of the opinion that it would help me in my work when investigating crimes amongst the gentry. I’m a Bow Street Runner, ma’am, and if you wish to rise and walk out of here, neither Jane nor I will take offense.”
“I like a man who is proud of who he is, and what he does,” said the countess. “I dislike people who pretend to be what they are not, and your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. A military man can never displease, when he is an honourable gentleman.”
“My initial commission was a field commission, ma’am,” said Caleb. “My captaincy was purchased, however.”
“I commend you the more for carrying off every air of gentility,” said the countess. “Lady Armitage, are you looking forward to entering society?”
“My lady, I am happy to obey a royal summons,” said Jane, carefully.
Lady Lieven shot her a shrewd look.
“I have my suspicions that the regent has asked more of you than being in society, but I won’t ask. I do, however, have a request to make of you, if it does not conflict with the regent’s needs.”
“Certainly, my lady; we would both rather be doing something useful whilst in town,” said Jane. “If, indeed, it does not conflict with the favour we have been asked to do.”
“Then I will tell you about it. There is a lady of impeccable background, Lady Caroline Hale, an earl’s daughter and a knight’s widow. She is introducing a friend and her friend’s daughter into society, a friend who is a distant connexion of hers. The friend’s name is Mrs. Jane Fielding, which is the name of the cadet branch of Lady Caroline’s father, and her daughter is Cora. And though I have nothing to put my finger on, I ... I am uneasy. If you could look into her more closely, as an Officer of Bow Street knows how to do, I would be grateful. One hesitates to cut the relative of someone quite unexceptionable you understand, but why would Caro Hale introduce someone who was not genuine? I would not like to think of her being fooled and made use of.”
“Certainly we will look into it,” said Jane. “We would be grateful for a brief family tree as much as you know, and the direction of this cadet branch. We will send agents to examine parish records as a start.”
“Ah, excellent, I hoped you would know what to do. Anyone may claim to be almost anyone, and if there is good reason they have not been in society before, why, if vouched for, it is impossible to disprove.”
“Believe me, my lady, I know how to prove and disprove such matters,” said Caleb.
“Excellent. Almack’s will not be reopening its subscription balls until March, but I will arrange vouchers for you both. Do you waltz?”
“The new German waltz? We have danced it together, ma’am, but I am not entirely sure we have all the moves correctly,” said Jane.
“I will send a dancing master to ensure that you know all the exchanges of holds and how to change tempo,” said the countess, standing. “Thank you for the tea, it was an excellent brew.”
“That was interesting,” said Caleb.
“Yes, but I have no illusion that she would have been so accommodating had we not been prepared to look into the antecedents of her friend’s connexion,” said Jane. “And of course Prinny would never have expected us to appear at Almack’s but for the little headache Beau Popham wanted us to look at. I thought it seemed odd.”
“I’ve heard the Beau refer to him as ‘George’; I believe he’s moderately close, though not for his sartorial style. Prinny still follows the ways of Brummel, even if they are at odds.”
“I don’t think anyone the Beau truly likes are in any wise fond of his sartorial style. He’s a hornet in butterfly’s clothing,” said Jane.
“I like that description,” chuckled Caleb. “I think he was chagrined that he missed all knowledge of James Charles Donald and his treacherous little plan to blow up the royal family.”[2]
“He has no need,” said Jane. “Donald was a lone madman, convinced he was descended from the Young Pretender and Flora MacDonald, and whether he was or not isn’t the issue. The fact that he plotted to act on his beliefs are what counts, and he was missed by such society spies as Beau Popham for the simple reason that he did not move within society, did not involve any members of society in his plotting, and played a lone hand outside of the footman he suborned to place his infernal device. There is no way that the Beau could have known; and had it not been for us buying the house where Donald did most of his plotting, wherein excitable children found his secret room, nobody would have known. Really it’s not you, who should be knighted but your youthful nieces and nephews and Simon.”
Caleb laughed.
“I said as much to Prinny and he hinted that he would see if he couldn’t raise me to a baronet if I continued to distinguish myself so Simon would be duly honoured in the long run. He was joking of course, but I suspect he may keep an eye on Simon’s career,” he said. “Of course, it would have been a blow to the country, but Donald was a foolish optimist, the government would never have accepted him declaring himself king. He should really be in Bedlam, not hanged.”
Jane shivered.
“I think, on the whole, I’d rather be hanged,” she said.
“Actually, you have a point,” Caleb sobered. “And of course on the coat-tails of this
treasonous attempt, what Popham is not saying, I suspect, is that he fears that the ones who are inheriting unexpectedly have been promised this inheritance so long as they support a traitor. And it may have crossed Lady Lieven’s mind, too, that this Mrs. Fielding and her daughter are spies for another descendent of Charles Edward Stuart.”
“I hadn’t considered that, but I don’t say you’re wrong,” said Jane.
“It’s foolishness if it is such an attempt,” said Caleb. “Because however you look at it, you have to take out all of parliament to bring about a change of governance. It’s not the king, or the nobles, who make the decisions. We cut off our king’s head in sixteen whenever it was to prove that point, and equally reinstated his son when we found being a republic didn’t work as a hereditary thing. Having an idiot for a protector was a bad thing, having an idiot for a king, who is a figurehead, is almost required. But he has to be an idiot who is accepted by parliament.”
“That’s probably almost treason,” said Jane, cheerfully.
“Maybe, but I support a king, even if he is an idiot, because his main duty is to be a balance to parliament,” said Caleb. “The king or regent can dissolve parliament in an emergency, and moreover in the military we make our oath to the king. Liverpool may be Prime Minister but he can’t lead the army and navy to war without the consent of the king. And in theory the king, or regent, can veto any law, but unfortunately Prinny doesn’t understand enough issues, or care enough, to do things like refuse to put through the Corn Laws. Liverpool is a bastard, but he’s a legally elected bastard, and unfortunately we’re stuck with him.”
“Maybe you should go into politics, my dear,” said Jane.
“And I thought you always believed me to be an honest man, Jane-of-my-heart,” Caleb pulled a mock injured look. Jane wrapped her arms around her husband.
“I wouldn’t suggest it seriously,” she said. “But you were getting quite worked up there, and passionate. I wouldn’t hold you back if you wanted to go into politics.”
Caleb sighed, and kissed his wife thoroughly before answering her.
Jane and the Sins of Society Page 2