Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

  CHAPTER 22

  The removal to Cavendish Square went smoothly. Christopher, despite his ready agreement to Simon's demand, had his own reservations. He did not like the idea of taking advantage of his grandfather, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that Simon would have been grievously wounded had he refused. And there was the irritating knowledge that there was no other path open to him.

  When apprised of the plan the next morning at breakfast, Mrs. Eggleston, too, had reservations, but hers were more of a social nature. "But, Christopher," she asked, "is it proper? It is for you, but Nicole and I are no relation at all to Lord Saxon. Might people talk of us living in his house?"

  It was a valid question, one Christopher had not considered. Mrs. Eggleston provided more than adequate chaperonage for Nicole while she lived under his care, but who was to provide that same act for Mrs. Eggleston while she lived in Simon's house?

  It was an unusual situation, as neither he nor his grandfather was Nicole's legal guardian, and there was going to be enough speculation as it was. They certainly did not need the gossips and scandalmongers wondering about Mrs. Eggleston's role in the affair. Considering the ages of the two involved, it was a ridiculous circumstance, but in view of that long-ago engagement—and there were bound to be people who remembered it!— it was a problem that had to be resolved.

  Fortunately Simon was more quick-witted than either Mrs. Eggleston or Christopher, and when Christopher paid him a visit that morning and explained this new complication, Simon snorted, "Just thought of it, hey? Well, m'boy, I thought of it last night!" A delightfully smug expression on his lips, Simon continued, "Made arrangements for m'sister Regina to come for a visit. She's widowed, y'know, lives in a tidy, little home at Chigwell in Essex. I sent a groom to her after you left last night, and not above ten minutes ago he arrived back with her answer. She'll arrive tonight, so everything is right and tight!"

  Christopher returned to Grillions and informed Mrs. Eggleston of Simon's actions. Almost lovingly she murmured, "So clever of him, but then he always was." And so the servants began to prepare for the transfer to Cavendish Square.

  Nicole had remained pensive throughout the morning. She could not understand why Christopher seemed to have no intention of informing the Markhams of her presence in England. Why? It occurred to her that he might have developed a fondness for her, but she banished that thought. She was not going to be mislead by him again!

  Nicole was finding it very easy to drift with the currents created by Mrs. Eggleston and Christopher. She had lost the will to fight. Her life was a pleasant one —Mrs. Eggleston, kind and concerned; Mauer, competent and amusing; Christopher, for the most part considerate, almost avuncular, seeing to all the arrangements. It was nearly impossible to do anything but what was asked of her—all anyone demanded was that she dress beautifully and behave charmingly.

  She found it harder and harder to remember the days of La Belle Garce and to recall the hoydenish creature she had been. Even the times that Christopher had possessed her had taken on a dreamlike quality. She almost believed she was the demure and quiet young lady she appeared.

  Simon greeted them politely and promptly absented himself, as he hated to see the household in an upheaval.

  By five o'clock that afternoon the ladies were ensconced in an impressive suite of rooms on the second floor, each with a separate bedroom and dressing room. They shared a handsome sitting room, decorated in soft shades of yellow with a striking deep-toned sapphire-blue rug. Christopher's rooms were down a wide ruby-carpeted hallway on the opposite side of the house and presumably as elegant as Mrs. Eggleston's and Nicole's. The servants had their rooms, as did most of Lord Saxon's staff, on the third floor.

  Regina's arrival that evening, nearly three hours after she was expected, created quite a stir, for she traveled with a personal maid, a dresser, and her very own page boy, in addition to her groom and driver.

  Lady Darby was a tall, stiff-backed woman whose features would be described as handsome rather than beautiful. She had a long nose, a wide mouth and a chin that brooked no opposition. Like her brother, Simon, she had dark hair, but while she was some fifteen years the younger, her raven locks were liberally dusted with strands of silver. Divested quickly of a fashionable pelisse lined with crushed silk, she was dressed in a gown of deep puce. Her hair, with its silver wings, was brushed back into a severe, but extremely attractive chignon that emphasized the magnificent bones of her face. Regina exuded a sense of majesty and aloofness. But it was all a sham—she was as good-hearted as she was formidable.

  Sweeping into the drawing room, she exclaimed, "My dears! I am so dreadfully sorry to be so late, but I simply could not arrive here sooner." Flashing her brother a teasing glance, she scolded, "Really, Simon, you would think at your age you would not be so impetuous!" As he spluttered and glared, Regina wisked across the room to enfold a slightly startled Mrs. Eggleston into a fond embrace. "Dearest Letitia! How absolutely marvelous to see you again! How could you have departed as you did? It is so good to see you once more, and how wonderful that you are staying with Simon! We will have plenty of time for several comfortable cozes."

  Leaving Mrs. Eggleston in a state bordering on bemusement, Regina's eye fell upon Nicole standing politely near a stylishly low sofa of striped satin. "My dear! What a delightful child you have become! The gentlemen will be living on our doorstep! You shall be all the rage in no time at all. Oh, I'm going to enjoy myself, I just know it! I vow that within a fortnight we shan't have an evening free."

  Nicole was enchanted. What a darling Lady Regina Darby was! She dropped a graceful curtsy. "Thank you for your gratifying words. It is so kind of you and Lord Saxon to take us in. I do hope I shan't be a disappointment to you."

  "Disappointment? My dear, I am never disappointed! No one would dare disappoint me!" Regina returned with a twinkle.

  As she turned slowly, Regina's inquiring glance took in Christopher, lounging carelessly against the mantel. Dressed in his customary black velvet jacket and light breeches, he was a man to catch any woman's eye. What Regina thought of him, she did not betray, but only regarded him intently. "Well, Christopher?" she said coolly, "Have you returned to stay? Or do you intend to disappear without warning and nearly destroy your grandfather again?"

  "Regina!" thundered Simon.

  "Oh, my!" gasped Mrs. Eggleston, dismay creeping into her eyes. Everything had been going so pleasantly, she thought unhappily, only she had forgotten Regina's very forthright tongue.

  Nicole, standing just a bit away from the others, viewed the unfolding scene with more than a little interest. Captain Saber, as she still occasionally thought of Christopher, had always been an enigma to her, and try as she might, she could not remember ever meeting him at Beddington's Corner, although she knew she must have. She was intensely curious about him, and this was her first chance to learn more of his shrouded past. So it wasn't at all strange that she watched closely as Christopher, apparently not disturbed at all by his great-aunt's barbed words, bowed and, with a mocking smile curving his beautiful mouth, said smoothly, "I've just returned. Do you think it apropos to greet me with concern about my departure?"

  "Touché! I'll grant you this, young man, you've certainly become a very handsome devil with a glib tongue. But don't try to bamboozle me!" Regina retorted tartly. And as Simon opened his mouth, she turned on him, exclaiming, "Oh, shush, my love! We are all family and families always ask embarrassing questions! Come now, in vulgar parlance—feed me! I vow, I am positively starving to death!"

  The evening passed swiftly, as Regina regaled them with gossip. She asked few questions about their sudden arrival, and she appeared to take their opportune meeting at face value. But Christopher was very wary of Lady Darby; he sensed that his aunt was the least likely to swallow the tale without reservations. Several times he was aware of a speculative, appraising gleam in her dark eyes when she regarded him.

  Christopher found sleep elusive that night;
a sense of frustration and doubt churning inside him. I must be the most arrogant fool alive, he thought disgustedly, to have believed I could return to England, divest myself of Nicole and Mrs. Eggleston as if they were a bit of troublesome baggage, deceive my grandfather, ferret out the plans for an attack on New Orleans, and then blithely sail away.

  The next morning he and Simon had planned to stroll down to St. James Street; Simon wished to show off his grandson at the various men's clubs to be found there. But when Christopher descended for breakfast, he found a hand-delivered note waiting for him. After scanning it quickly he frowned. Why would Alexander Baring want to see him as soon as possible? Then he shrugged, he'd find out soon enough.

  Seeking out Simon, he made his excuses and left for the Baring residence in the city. Arriving at the Baring house some minutes later, he was shown into the library, where Baring was conversing with a middle-aged man. They were seated comfortably in two high-backed chairs of red Moroccan leather, and as Christopher entered Baring rose to his feet.

  "So good of you to come this soon. I hoped you would. But come, I have what I believe will be a pleasant surprise for you!" So saying, Baring led Christopher over to the older man who had remained seated.

  "Albert, this is the gentleman I was speaking of. Monroe, I might add, writes highly of him. Christopher Saxon, may I present Mr. Albert Gallatin. Albert, you'll be interested to know that Saxon arrived here not above two weeks ago from New Orleans. I'm certain you'll have much to speak of later."

  Christopher stared at Gallatin in astonishment, and after they had shaken hands, he exclaimed, "Sir! I never expected to see you in London. The last I heard, you were in St. Petersburg, Russia."

  Gallatin smiled grimly. "So I was—kicking my heels and playing the tourist for months. As I was accomplishing nothing, Bayard and I decided to leave. I was hoping that when I arrived here Alexander would have some good news for me, but it appears that nothing has been done."

  Baring looked uncomfortable. "I've explained in my letters, my government absolutely refuses mediation. It is felt that foreign interference in our domestic quarrel is unwarranted. And at least now your Mr. Madison has agreed to Castlereagh's plan of direct negotiations, so one of our stumbling blocks has been removed."

  Gallatin grunted. "And the impressment question?" he asked dryly.

  Looking even more uncomfortable, Baring said, "We simply cannot accept your demands without losing our Navy. It is useless and unrealistic to discuss it as an abstract question of right when it is one of necessity. Damnit, Albert, we've been fighting for our lives!"

  Gallatin did not appear moved by Baring's impassioned comments, but Christopher found them intriguing. The United States had declared war ostensibly because of impressment of American seamen, and it now seemed that though peace talks were in the offering, Britain was refusing even to consider that topic in the negotiations! Coolly Christopher inquired, "You think it right for your warships to stop our ships on the high seas and take off American citizens, forcing them to serve in the British Navy?" It was a question that struck deeply into Christopher's being—hadn't he been impressed himself? If the experience had embittered him, how much more so must it an American?

  Baring said nothing to Christopher's question. He did not approve of the practice, but he could do little to stop such activities. And there were British deserters on those American ships who were needed in the war against Napoleon. Few American seamen, he felt positive, were actually being taken and he had his doubts that any had been taken.

  It was Gallatin, a patient and temperate man, who banished the slightly hostile air that had entered the room by stating calmly, "I don't think it is a question of right so much as a question of, will it stop?" He gave Baring a searching glance before continuing, "So we are not to discuss the impressment issue, yet our two governments have agreed to direct negotiations. What are we to discuss? The weather?"

  "I know, I know," commented Baring exasperatedly. "I don't have any certain idea what direction the talks are to take. For the moment I'm content to know that the way is being made for the negotiations to begin." Smiling, he added, "You know how these things are."

  Gallatin did indeed know. First there had been the czar's offer of mediation during which the Americans, according to Ramonzov, the Russian chancellor, had shown "rather too much ardor in pursuing peace." Now they had agreed to direct negotiations and appointed a new commission, only to discover that the British faction had not only not appointed their commission, but also wanted the site changed. Sometimes he felt they would never get to the peace table at all. Hence, his and James Bayard's unorthodox visits to England.

  They had accomplished nothing in the months in Russia—absolutely nothing. And having grown tired of waiting, he and Bayard had left John Quincy Adams in his role as United States minister to Russia in St. Petersburg. The whole Russian trip, Gallatin admitted to himself, had been a fiasco. He and Bayard had arrived nearly a year ago in St. Petersburg to discover within the hour that the British had refused the czar's offer. Intending to leave immediately for the United States, they found to their dismay that diplomatic form obliged them to stay. As commissioners to the court of St. Petersburg they had to be received by the czar and present their credentials. Thereafter it was for the czar to decide when his efforts at mediation might be considered at an end. And for the past nine months, Gallatin and Bayard had been involuntary tourists. Yes, he did indeed know "how these things are."

  Christopher, too, had his own idea how things were. Gallatin might think that the delay was caused by mere circumstance and form, but Christopher had the uncomfortable growing conviction that the British were deliberately stalling, playing for time in which to strike a mortal blow against the United States. Yet, he could hardly make any such statement in front of Alexander Baring. With that thought, before he departed, he managed to make arrangements to meet privately with Gallatin.

  Gallatin's and Bayard's arrival in London was something neither he nor Jason had considered. It could do no real harm and in fact could lend more credence to his own professed reason for being in London. He wondered, though, what the two men thought they could accomplish.

  Like himself, they were visitors without diplomatic status in a hostile nation. Naturally they would be excluded from all official receptions, and it seemed they would be in a position to do little but exist on the fringes and glean what information they could. For himself he expected as much, but then his purpose was to infiltrate and, by whatever means were necessary, find out exactly what the British plans were for the South, New Orleans in particular.

  Gallatin and Bayard were in a different situation entirely. They were appointed peace commissioners, both directly serving the United State government. In his case he was serving private interests, his own and Jason Savage's, despite Monroe's fine letter of introduction.

  Impatient for the meeting with Gallatin, he was restless and on edge for the remainder of the morning. And because he wanted no one to interfere with the coming meeting, he avoided Cavendish Square and managed to waste the hours until it was time for the meeting by wandering aimlessly throughout the streets of London.

  He presented himself at Gallatin's address some fifteen minutes earlier than he was expected and was gratified when Gallatin had him instantly ushered into his suite.

  Christopher eyed him closely, not unnaturally curious about this former secretary of the treasury, whose appointment to the commission had been held up for so long and had caused such a furor in Congress. Albert Gallatin certainly did not appear a man who would normally be found in the middle of a partisan congressional fight. He was a patient, temperate man, a thorough thinker, and one not given to rash action. Christopher hoped that the other appointees were of the same caliber.

  Smiling in welcome, Gallatin waited until Christopher had seated himself across from him before asking, "Now, young man, what can I do for you?"

  "I'm not so certain you can do anything for me. I merely wanted to s
peak to you in private."

  Gallatin looked somewhat surprised. "You have something to say that couldn't be mentioned in front of Baring?"

  Feeling at a disadvantage but determined to express his own views, Christopher said, "Yes. Yes, I do. I believe that Mr. Baring is working very sincerely on our behalf, but I also feel quite strongly that this delay is deliberate." And feeling that he might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, he finished defiantly, "I think Castlereagh's government is willfully keeping the peace talks from getting started. I feel very strongly that the British want another outstanding victory in America to bolster their hand at the peace table."

  "Oh, I'm quite certain that's exactly what they are planning."

  "You are?" Christopher said, his confusion at Gallatin's calm acceptance plain to see on his face.

  Gallatin sighed tiredly. "Oh, yes, my young friend, I'm more than a little certain our British companions have territorial conquest in mind. They have a strong hand as it is, with the war with Napoleon at an end, but I'll also agree that they would like to firmly trounce us."

  This will teach me, Christopher thought sardonically, to play at intrigue. He had, it appeared, underestimated the quiet Mr. Gallatin.

  Gallatin, regarding him closely, guessed at his thoughts and said slowly, "I am getting used to people saying one thing and doing another. I don't believe there is anything that you and I can do about it. I am writing to Monroe of my suspicions and hope he will realize that we will be lucky to hold onto our boundaries as they were before the war, I intend to warn him very strongly that the British will launch a massive offensive sometime this year and that we would be wise to make peace as soon as possible. We may be in grave danger as a nation if we do not. We had best forget any thought of the conquest of Canada, before we find ourselves under British rule again!"

  "My idea exactly! I am relieved to know that you will be writing to the secretary of state on this matter. Everywhere I go I see proof of British supremacy," Christopher said earnestly. "And I'll confess I have indeed been troubled over it. Our Congress must be living in a dream world if they think we can gain anything further from this unpractical war."