‘Why not?’
‘He wishes to make a voyage of exploration with his ship. But a storm sank the rest of his fleet.’
‘So he is in debt and his last ship is now owned by creditors?’ I deduce.
‘How did you know that?’
‘I grew up near a port town,’ I say. ‘Few seafarers land without owing money.’
‘You have it right,’ says Edward, sounding impressed. ‘I arranged dinner to avoid a scene. For he is hot-headed enough to duel.’
I consider this.
‘What kind of man is he?’ I ask
‘Mr Vanderbilt is a buccaneer. A kind of gentleman pirate.’
I grin at the description.
‘You know of such men?’ asks Edward.
‘We sometimes saw them on the Bristol docks,’ I say. ‘I always thought them the most fascinating of creatures. Dripping with exotic spoils and rugged with far-flung travel.’
Edward smiles a little at my description.
I’m about to ask for more details when an enormous carriage rolls up to the window.
‘Our first guests,’ he says, though he doesn’t sound especially pleased. ‘Lady Montfort and her daughter Charlotte.’
‘Are they here to husband-hunt?’ I ask, joking to disguise my nerves. ‘Should I stand close and keep you safe?’
Edward eyes me in amusement.
‘Very much so,’ he says. ‘You may have to fight for me.’
‘For fifty guineas I would claw out an eye gladly,’ I promise.
He gives a little laugh and then presses my hand as a sign to stay silent. We hear the front door open.
There are high female voices in the hall and then a knock. The door is opened by a footman and two women enter.
Mother and daughter have almost identical faces, with long hooked noses, small eyes and close little mouths. But where the younger Montfort is slim, slight and youthful, the elder is stocky, heavy and imposing.
I curtsy clumsily, hoping this is the required gesture.
‘Lady Montfort,’ says Edward, bowing low. ‘And Miss Montfort.’ He steps forward and kisses her hand. The younger Montfort makes an odd kind of simper, which rises to a high-pitched giggle.
‘Charlotte!’ hisses her mother, and the giggle stops short.
‘May I present Miss Elizabeth Ward,’ says Edward, gesturing to me. ‘Miss Ward is an heiress from the country. She is related to my mother’s family.’
Lady Montfort purses her thin lips so they seem to disappear utterly and regards me with undisguised disapproval.
‘I had heard, Lord Hays,’ she said, ‘that you had a female guest. Quite a surprise to us, you must be sure.’
She eyes Charlotte meaningfully as she says this, but Charlotte is goggling away at me, as though she can’t decide which part of me she wants to look at the most.
‘London is full of surprises,’ says Edward mildly.
I get the impression some charged subtext is going on beneath the polite words.
I turn it over in my mind, remembering my earlier overheard conversation between Edward and Fitzroy. My conclusion is that Lady Montfort was hoping to match Charlotte with Edward.
A bell rings and we hear voices in the hallway. There is a knock and we all turn expectantly to the door.
‘Your Lordship,’ the servant announces, throwing open the door, ‘Mr Vanderbilt.’
A tall figure appears in the doorway. The candlelight falls on the folds of his deeply tanned face and his blue eyes sparkle out at us.
Edward moves forward to greet his guest, while the rest of us drink in his riotous appearance. Mr Vanderbilt is a rugged chaos of a man. A medley of pirate and admiral, in a battered red coat flecked with gold. A bright handkerchief is around his neck, gold rings adorn his fingers, and his large hat sports a huge pluming blue feather from some exotic bird.
He looks on the very edge of breaking into a loud laugh. And he winks when he sees me staring. I wonder if I should be careful of him, for Edward says he is hot-headed. But I feel myself liking Mr Vanderbilt, for all his intimidating appearance.
‘Mr Vanderbilt,’ announces Edward, bowing slightly. Mr Vanderbilt returns the courtesy, doffing his large feathered hat in an exaggerated bow, which I cannot help but think is mocking.
‘Your Lordship,’ he says, in a gravelly tone that reminds me of rum-soaked sea shanties. ‘Ladies.’
He bows to us.
‘Elizabeth Ward, Lady Montfort and her daughter Charlotte,’ says Edward, with easy courtesy.
I drop low. Lady Montfort makes the tiniest of glaring curtsies and I realise I am likely saved her scrutiny now. This colourful man is far more transgressive than I am.
She glares at Edward, as if mutely questioning why he has invited such a man to dine. He ignores the look, saving his attention for the newest guest.
Mr Vanderbilt and Edward are eyeing each other, like respectful foes.
‘You did not bring your wife?’ asks Edward, after a beat.
Mr Vanderbilt shakes his head. ‘She does not find herself well-suited to English society,’ he says. ‘Her understanding is not always good.’
‘Your wife is not from England?’ asks Lady Montfort, finding her voice.
Mr Vanderbilt turns his full attention on her.
‘My wife is a Red Indian. A slave when I found her,’ he explains.
Lady Montfort visibly blanches.
We are all silent, then Edward speaks.
‘How very interesting,’ he says. ‘Did you bring a guest in her stead?’
Something about his tone suggests there are games afoot. I look to Mr Vanderbilt. His eyes narrow a little as though he’s been outmanoeuvred.
‘That I did,’ he says. ‘My partner, Percy. He waits in the carriage.’
‘Please,’ says Edward, with a bland smile. ‘He is most welcome.’ He raises his hand for a footman. ‘Please ask Mr Vanderbilt’s guest to join us,’ he says.
The footman vanishes, as I try and work out what is happening. It seems Mr Vanderbilt has brought a second. Another man, instead of the wife Edward was expecting. I feel a stirring of fear in the pit of my stomach, wondering how this will affect the evening. Has Mr Vanderbilt brought another man to duel?
Percy is shown in and we all study him as the introductions are made. He is a young man, but carries himself as though he were older. His clothes look hastily chosen, and slightly ill-fitting, but he carries a sword at his hip with an ease that suggests he can use it.
‘Percy is a naval officer,’ explains Mr Vanderbilt. ‘There never was a braver one. Our ship would have been lost to the deeps, if not for his sailing skill. And he saved my life twice from pirate Spaniards.’
This explains Percy’s dress. He has likely rushed to find civilian clothes for the city.
‘Admiral Vanderbilt saved my life three times,’ returns Percy with a smile. ‘Do not let this old dog fool you. He can still swing a sword.’
Edward nods politely and invites them to take wine.
There is an air of restrained tension as the drinks are poured. As though words are bubbling beneath the surface.
I notice Charlotte’s eyes are riveted to Percy and hide a smile. With his blond hair and soft brown eyes, I can well see how she finds him handsome. Lady Montfort has noticed and looks furious.
Her sharp little eyes are taking me in again, as though searching for a foil for her venom.
‘You are from the country, Miss Ward?’ she says, eyeing the fashionable cut of my dress. ‘I have not heard of you. You are well dressed for one so new to town.’
There is a sudden silence and all eyes are on me.
‘Oh, this is borrowed,’ I admit, ‘from a relative of Edward’s. I could not find a dressmaker anywhere in Mayfair, though I walked all morning.’
There is a pause and suddenly everyone but Lady Montfort bursts out laughing. They think I am joking, I realise. That I have disarmed her ladyship’s barb with a better one of my own. Edward turns to me wi
th pride.
‘Lord Rivers and his guest cannot be long,’ he says. ‘Perhaps you could ask Lady Montfort to lead us in to dinner?’
‘Of course,’ I say demurely, trying desperately to remember the protocol when there is an older dowager present.
‘Lady Montfort,’ I say in my best voice, ‘we have many delicious things to eat. And nice wines to drink too. The servants have been working all day. Won’t you take us to see what wonders they have made?’
This also seems to delight the guests. ‘We shall have a lively night with such a jolly hostess,’ grins Percy, as Lady Montfort leads us through to the dining room.
The table has been set with an enormous sugar confection, fashioned in the shape of the townhouse. Spanning the sugar-work are plates of cold foods, elaborately decorated and looking almost too pretty to eat.
Servants pass us glasses of wine.
We have barely taken in the display, when there is a knock at the door and our final guests are announced.
‘Your Lordship,’ says the footman, ‘Lord Rivers and his guest.’
I am feeling a little easier now in the company. I take a sip of wine and turn smiling to greet the remaining people.
A great hulk of a man walks in and I take him in uneasily. Then my mouth falls open. Because his guest is all too familiar to me.
The woman accompanying Lord Rivers is Belle.
The girl who was sold.
Chapter 15
Belle and I stand looking at one another in total amazement. Then she makes the tiniest little incline of her head.
Do not reveal me.
I nod slightly in return. Memories fork unbidden through my brain.
We were at Mrs Wilkes’s house. Men were arriving. Belle was taken off alone.
The introductions are happening around us. I hear Belle’s name spoken and curtsy to her.
Mrs Wilkes told us Belle had gone willingly. But we knew she never would have left without saying goodbye.
‘A companion to Lord Rivers,’ Lady Montfort is saying. ‘That word is used to mean all kind of things nowadays. I wonder sometimes what it means.’
Belle has turned slightly pink and I realise Lady Montfort is implying she is a courtesan. Lord Rivers’s face sets to dark fury and I interject quickly to avoid a scene.
‘I hear Mr Johnson made a book to give the meaning to words,’ I say, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. ‘Perhaps that would help you define it.’
This prompts more laughter and a grateful look from Belle. And I realise that I have unwittingly cut down Lady Montfort again. She seems furious. Edward, however, looks as though he is enjoying himself immensely.
When we sit for dinner, Belle is placed at the other end of the table to me.
I try desperately to work out her circumstances. Lord Rivers is a brooding kind of man. Hulking and dark. Certainly, I would be terrified to have been sold into his house. My mind is turning over the possibilities of it all. How was the sale arranged? What did she feel meeting him for the first time?
Does he own her? Is she his courtesan? His mistress?
My thoughts keep me mostly silent, as we are served the hot dishes, and I feel Edward’s eyes on me in concern. I smile at him weakly.
All I can think of is Belle. As we eat, she says hardly anything. And she is too far away for me to speak privately to her.
Lady Montfort is holding court and Charlotte has grown confident enough to join the conversation. Though she acts more like a girl of twelve than of twenty. I endure Charlotte’s gauche remarks with slight annoyance, wishing dinner would end so I might see Belle.
A girl like Charlotte would drive me half mad with her trivial chatter. I find myself sympathising with Edward’s decision not to take a wife. I presume Charlotte’s silliness is the result of educating society girls at home, cloistered away from the world. No wonder Edward would rather the company of someone like me.
Dinner is coming to an end, when my thoughts are distracted by the men’s conversation.
‘Give me two months,’ Mr Vanderbilt is saying to Edward. ‘I expect a landing in two months, which will let me pay off my creditors.’
‘I cannot wait two months,’ says Edward. ‘I need a ship.’
Mr Vanderbilt glowers. ‘My creditors sell my ship too cheaply.’
Edward shrugs. ‘It is theirs to sell.’
‘You mean to work my vessel in the slave trade,’ accuses Mr Vanderbilt.
Edward shakes his head. ‘The ship will not carry slaves. It will carry gold and guns.’
‘Which will then be sold for slaves,’ says Mr Vanderbilt. He strikes the table and we all jump a little. Then he seems to assess his company and calm himself. I realise Edward was right to redirect him to a dinner, rather than a personal meeting. I could envisage swords being drawn, or a duel being brokered.
‘You fine men, in your fine houses,’ says Mr Vanderbilt darkly, ‘you see nothing of the horrors. Slavery is a foul business, Lord Hays. Your soul would be better out of it.’
I look between the men nervously, wondering if this is the point when the tension will spill into duelling. But Edward’s face is completely placid. As though Mr Vanderbilt has simply made a reasonable point.
‘What business should I be in?’ asks Edward smoothly.
‘Exploring,’ says Mr Vanderbilt. ‘Percy and I mean to bring back wonders.’ His eyes are shining. ‘Half the world is yet to find.’
Percy is nodding in agreement. ‘Were it not for the storm,’ he says, ‘we would have loaded up in Bristol and set sail on a voyage of discovery.’
‘But there was a storm,’ says Edward. ‘Sailing uncharted waters is high risk. Trading gold and guns is low risk. It relies on known shipping routes. That is why I choose it.’ His voice sounds quieter than usual.
There is a long, uncomfortable silence.
‘I still have my ways of thwarting your purchase,’ says Mr Vanderbilt finally. ‘I may be an old seadog, but I understand this trade better than you think.’
Edward folds his napkin carefully on his lap.
‘I take it you are referring to your conversation with Mr Grieves at the Exchange?’ he says. ‘I am afraid he will not offer you credit. I have made sure of it.’
This time it is Percy’s turn to explode in outrage.
‘How do you know of our creditors?’ he demands. ‘You play a low game indeed!’
Edward watches him, coolly assessing. Percy is shaking with anger. My fingers tighten on my glass of wine.
Percy glares, like a trapped animal, with the polite dinner-setting his cage.
I notice Edward’s hand shift almost imperceptibly to his sword. And I have a sudden surety that he has no fear, no alarm at the prospect of fighting. If it came to a duel, he would win. But I sense he would not enjoy the victory.
I wonder if he will say anything to soothe Percy’s fury, but the hard glint in his eye suggests he is prouder than that. And in the terrible pause that follows, it is Mr Vanderbilt who lays a gentle hand on Percy’s arm.
‘Lord Hays plays the game well,’ says Mr Vanderbilt. ‘We must not begrudge him his skill. We deal with a man, not a boy.’
Edward nods respectfully to Mr Vanderbilt.
‘It is business,’ says Edward mildly. ‘You must not think it changes the great respect I have for your admiralty.’
‘Most of my admiralty is at the depths of the Pacific,’ grunts Mr Vanderbilt, leaning back in his chair. ‘But I am obliged to your regard, nonetheless.’
I glance to Percy, who still looks angry.
‘Is there to be dancing?’ I ask, eager to break the deadlock and get a chance to speak with Belle. ‘I have learned steps especially.’
Edward turns to me in surprise and his face shifts as though relieved.
‘Yes, of course,’ he says. ‘We must have you dance.’
Chapter 16
The doors between the ballroom and the dining room are opened wide, and servants rush to remove all ev
idence of our meal. Within minutes musicians have taken their places.
For their earlier quarrel, the two men seem to quietly respect one another. I notice Edward insisting Mr Vanderbilt is served the best wine. Though, as I’ve observed at the dinner, he has drunk little himself. The move to the dance floor seems to have broken the earlier tension and everyone is on their best behaviour again.
‘You ladies and young men must dance,’ says Edward, moving to the edge of the room. ‘I will wait out with Lady Montfort.’
I give him a questioning look, but he nods that I should dance without him. I wonder if he means to talk more business with Mr Vanderbilt. But Mr Vanderbilt moves to the floor with Percy and Lord Rivers.
‘Edward never dances,’ confides Charlotte in a whisper, as we take our places. ‘As a boy, he studied mostly farming. It was quite the scandal. His Latin is dreadful for a man of such good family.’
She breathes this last with an air of horror.
I am trying to work out which position will get me closest to Belle in the complicated French dance, but something about Charlotte’s remark riles me to reply.
‘Edward is an educated man,’ I say defensively, remembering his recital of Spenser. ‘He is well read. A man due to inherit a country estate is wise to learn farming,’ I add.
I do not quite know why I feel bound to defend Edward. His reputation is no concern of mine, after all.
Charlotte’s face twists. ‘What girl should want to marry a lord who bothers himself in farming?’
‘A girl who wishes her estate to be well managed,’ I reply tartly.
I am annoyed at myself for being distracted by Charlotte. Belle is now at the other end of the line, with Lord Rivers opposite.
I wonder if she might be deliberately trying to avoid talking to me.
I am opposite Mr Vanderbilt and Charlotte dances with Percy. Her face lights up when she realises he is to be her main partner and she looks almost pretty.
The music starts and we begin a bouncing kind of dance, looping our partners and then back down the line.
Mr Vanderbilt appears to know the dance well and he deftly steers me the right way when I make a wrong step. I smile at him gratefully.
Masquerade: Can a street-girl become a lady? Page 7