The Purchased Peer

by Giselle Marks

  ***

  Xavier was up and about early that morning too. Having consumed a quick breakfast in the kitchens, much to Celestina’s London cook’s horror, he set off on foot wearing some of his oldest and most disreputable clothes. He had not bothered to shave, or to tie his hair back, but let it hang loose and unruly under a woollen knitted cap. He had put on an aged great coat and tucked a fowling pistol into one capacious pocket. Underneath the greatcoat he had buckled on a plain sword and daggers had been slipped up a sleeve and down a boot. He was not unaware of the dangers London’s stews represented and saw no reason not to be prepared for trouble.

  Xavier had taken a look at himself in a mirror in his full outfit and thought if he had a tricolour cockade in his cap, he would look like one of the revolutionary peasants who had created the terror in France. As his grandmother had been French, he had lost a number of distant relatives who had been either lynched by the mob or guillotined. Although he had not liked the arrogance of his French cousins, he had been sorry they had been killed.

  He was not going to drive his curricle through the back streets of London, nor was he going to risk a fine piece of horseflesh like Xerxes. Robert Avery argued he should go with him as protection, but Xavier thought he would be at more risk with a follower than alone. Robert was in Xavier’s opinion a nice boy, who would be out of place in the slums. He concealed coins in various places and hid a money belt containing only guineas under his waistcoat. If one pocket was picked, then the thief would not escape with much and he would still have some money on him for emergencies.

  So as he sauntered through the more affluent parts on London, it was with an eye for those people who did not fit in with the hawkers and tradesmen who were on the streets. Polite Society was still abed and would not be welcoming visitors for many hours yet. A few dirty but polite urchins, addressed him as “Me lord,” despite his worn clothing offering to provide him with all sorts of services, most of which Xavier was not interested in. Xavier suspected that the “me lord” was their form of address for anyone who looked more affluent than the urchins themselves.

  Xavier lounged against the railings of the nearest building and looked the street children over. Then he beckoned over a bright eyed scrawny lad of about ten and waved the others away.

  “Do you know a Big Blanche from over in Spitalfields?”

  “Hev’one knows Big Blanche, me lord,”

  “Could you take her a message from me? Ask her to visit Kittleton House tonight?”

  “H’eye could, she don’t travel for nuthin, who shall I say you's is?”

  “Tell her she’ll be paid and say Xavvy sent you. Describe me if she asks,” Xavier suggested.

  “Here is a half crown, take a cab and there’ll be another half-crown for you if she comes. Ask for me in the kitchens, tell them ‘me lord’ promised you’d be paid.”

  “You not jessing with me? Another half-crown?”

  “I am not joking, you’ll get another half-crown.”

  Xavier enjoyed a long walk, he stopped at a number of run down hostelries, ordering but not drinking a number of beverages, depending on what the patrons were consuming. He looked around for faces he knew and trusted, talking to a few and explaining the information he sought. He disbursed a few coins seeking information and explained where he could be reached. Clementina would not have approved of some of the establishments he favoured with his custom. One hostelry was holding a cock fight in a rear yard, which Xavier found distasteful, but it had a large number of patrons. He found a couple of acquaintances who would happily ferret out the unknown gentleman’s identity. Not that Xavier considered the crimes that person had orchestrated, the actions of a gentleman.

  He returned to Kittleton House early enough to bathe before dinner, but he used the servant’s entrance and visited the kitchens before going upstairs.

  “A number of disreputable looking people may come looking for me, they may ask for ‘me lord’ or ‘Xavvy.’ I want them treated respectfully, give them refreshments and have me summoned.”

  ***

  Lady Selena pouted prettily as Sir Arthur dressed. He had been generous with his presents, a beautiful bracelet and fan had supplemented the necklace so far. If only he had been more generous with his body or more skilled in lovemaking, she might be content. However she was not going to discourage a generous lover until she found a better. What she really wanted was Xavier Falconer back in her bed. He had the skills in love- making which could keep her satisfied. But that was not going to happen. Sir Arthur turned to her and placed a kiss on her cheek. Then he asked as if it was an after-thought.

  “Are you going to Lady Charlotte’s ball, Selena?”

  “Yes, are you invited?”

  “No, the old harpy has taken against me. I was wondering whether you might consider allowing me to escort you. The rumour is that her nephew and his new wife will be going. I want to keep an eye on them.”

  “What interest do you have in the Earl and Countess of Kittleton, Arthur?”

  “Nothing good, I promise you. I owe the earl a good drubbing and his wife has been interfering in my business. Now I am sure you won’t be tattle telling on me to your former swain, will you Selena?”

  “You wish to take your revenge on Xavier Falconer and his wife. I have no reason to stop you. I might even help you in that venture…”

  ***

  Xavier changed before checking on Celestina. She was still abed but was sitting checking through some account books. It seemed Amy had not been able to keep her from her work and had in the end given in and fetched some of her ledgers from her office on the ground floor. As she seemed much recovered and was not complaining of a headache, Xavier saw no reason to rebuke her.

  “Some interesting people may come to visit me tonight, as I have set a number of them to discover the information on who is backing Higgins & Morpeth. I suggested they came through the servants’ entrance and I would meet them in the kitchens. So if you get some strange reports do not be surprised.”

  He sat with her until a tray was brought up for her to eat, then went downstairs to eat his dinner in solitary state. After the first course had been served, he called Hunt the London butler over.

  “As you know an attempt was made on my countess’ life. Some employees from Kittleton Place should be arriving tomorrow to give extra security. You will not be replaced, but Kittleton’s housekeeper is arriving with some maids, footmen and I hope a groom. As the workers being replaced have done nothing wrong, we will be giving them a good reference and six months wages in lieu of notice. I trust you consider that fair?”

  Hunt agreed it was very fair, but as Xavier started consuming his second course, a footman entered and whispered something to the butler.

  He turned to his lord and informed him “there is apparently a person, a very strange woman asking for you, my lord who has established herself in the kitchens and seems intent on sampling all the dishes.”

  “Set another place please and ask Mademoiselle Blanche Berger to join me for supper. Before you worry that my lady is unaware of the visitor, I told her earlier that some unusual people may visit. A ragged urchin may also turn up at the kitchen demanding half a crown, can you disburse it and have him fed Hunt, please. I will inform the countess, of Blanche dining with me.”

  The butler sniffed, but a few minutes later he escorted a very large woman with the whitest of white hair, which she wore very high in an ornate style surrounding a couple of stuffed birds, beads, ribbons and silk flowers. The whole effect was very much fin de siècle in the style of the late Queen Marie-Antoinette. At first glance an observer might assume she wore a wig or had powdered her hair. Yet although the lady was in her early thirties at most, the hair was natural and had always been that colour. Her skin was also very pale although she had obviously applied rouge to her cheeks and mouth and a little charcoal or soot to her eyelashes and brows. If you looked closer you might notice that her very pale eyes were pink in colour. Blanche was albi
no, a peculiarity which she made the most of. Her white formal evening dress might have been in fashion some fifty years earlier, as it was made from fine silk and trimmed with silver lace which was only slightly ragged. Xavier gallantly bowed to Blanche and pulled out a chair for her to sit beside him.

  “Please would you serve the soup to Mademoiselle Berger, Hunt. I will wait for the next course, so we can then be served together,”

  Blanche said nothing to Xavier as she competently worked her way through the soup and fish. Xavier poured her some wine, topping up her glass as it needed to be replenished. The dishes were removed and the third course was served.

  Blanche ate considerably more of the meal than Xavier and also drank rather more. When she finally pushed away her plate, wiping her mouth with a napkin, Xavier ordered one glass and some decent brandy. Hunt surprised at the request did as he was bid, but placed the glass by Xavier.

  “No Hunt, the brandy is for Mademoiselle, would you pour her a glass and then ask Amy to step down here.”

  “I hear you’ve married well, Xavvy. Looks like you fell on your feet,” Blanche said finally.

  “Yes, I married very well and I love my wife. However someone tried to shoot her in Green Park yesterday. She believes the man behind the attempt is ‘a gentleman’ who is secretly backing Higgins & Morpeth, chandlers and ironmongers. So far we’ve been unable to identify him, but he has funded a lot of despicable sabotage against Wellmouth Chandleries and also tried to dispose of Gregory Wellmouth. I would like to know that man’s name and I can pay very well for that information.”

  “Which is what you invited me for? I will give it my best shot, Xavvy.”

  Hunt knocked and to Xavier’s “enter,” opened the door and admitted Amy, Celestina’s dresser. She curtseyed neatly and waited to be addressed.

  “Has my lady settled down to sleep, Amy?”

  “No she is reading, my lord.”

  “Could you ask her if she feels up to receiving me and my visitor Mademoiselle Blanche Berger briefly? If she agrees, ask the footmen to bring up one of my leather armchairs from the library.”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said and scuttled out. Xavier stood and walked around the table until Hunt returned with the information that her ladyship would receive them. They waited a few minutes, giving the footmen a chance to install one of the leather chairs. They were the largest chairs in the house and actually resembled more small sofas as two slim people could easily sit in one snuggled together. Xavier then offered his arm to Blanche and helped her climb the stairs to his wife’s bedroom. He knocked and when Celestina asked them to enter, opened the door and stood back to let Blanche enter. Shutting the door behind him, he moved over to the bed and kissed his wife’s hand before formally introducing Blanche to her, as if they had been receiving royalty. Celestina received her graciously despite her appearance, and managed not to laugh as Blanche wedged herself into the huge armchair.

  “I thought it might be better if you met Blanche, my love, as I did not want the servants making suggestions about me dining with a lady while you are confined to bed. But if she should visit again or leave a message, you will know who it is from, or even be prepared to receive her. Thank you Blanche, that deals with the servants’ idea of propriety. I will give you some money to disburse as a retainer. How did you travel Blanche, do you need a cab called?”

  After Blanche had been ferried away, Xavier returned to his wife’s bedroom. He was grinning as he entered and seated himself cross-legged in the armchair.

  “Amy described Miss Berger as strange, but I would say she is more unique. Does she always dress like that?”

  “Usually, although I think that dress might have a higher neckline than some I have seen her in,” Xavier laughed back.

  “Is she a… she was very heavily perfumed.”

  “She was a whore when she was very young, she wasn’t that big then and no, I never used her services. I did not pay for sex, I was fairly fastidious. If the husbands were rakes, then I left their wives alone.”

  “What a shocking thing to say, Xavier. How did you meet her, I got the impression she’d do anything for you…”

  “Her pimp was giving her a serious thrashing. I bruised my knuckles on his face, before delivering him to the press gang. They paid me for him, can’t remember how much, it brought some pints of gin. Can I join you in bed now …?”

  Chapter Twenty-three – Day of Lady Charlotte’s Ball

  Over the following weeks, no more attacks were attempted on Celestina or her enemies had been discouraged by the security she now had in place. Sally settled into life in London and enjoyed her new wardrobe. She did not enjoy the voice and etiquette coach Hector had employed to try and put a little polish on her rough country manners. Sally felt as if her maid and male servant were disparaging of her attempts to improve herself. So when Hector was not home and her voice coach was not expected, she strolled out on foot to explore London. In her perambulations she discovered a number of hostelries, Hector would not have approved of her visiting, so she simply did not mention that she had done so. Finding herself more comfortable in the lower hostelries, she dressed in her older clothes accordingly, saving her new frocks for when Hector was around.

  Sally soon made friends and if some of her new friends were working girls or ladies who earned their living in other dubious ways then Sally was not one to criticise the choices they had made to survive. However she made sure only to see them at some distance from her new home. She had never earned her living as a whore, but would be considered a bad girl because she had enjoyed a promiscuous lifestyle. Not expecting to ever be offered marriage, but she yearned for children of her own. Hector was a nice man and she was trying to settle to life in London so they might have a happy marriage. However she was bored and used to being active.

  It did not take her long to amass a number of establishments where she was welcomed regularly and befriended by some of the patrons. Sally knew how not to encourage unwanted attention, from those men who got a little too friendly. She did not flaunt herself or go dressed in a provocative manner, but with her stunning red hair she got a lot of offers which she politely declined, sending over as substitute a new friend who might like the custom. Sally fitted in at that level, but realised she needed to appear e slightly more respectable so she did not embarrass Hector. Sally admitted to herself that she was homesick and felt in her new house like a fish out of water. Hector did not seem to have many close friends. He worked all day with the countess of Kittleton before coming home where he wanted to talk of other things.

  So Sally went out respectably in the morning either being driven or walking with her maid, but in the afternoons she visited a tavern for a drink or two and enjoyed some banter with the patrons. She chose the less respectable establishments where a woman might visit alone, even if was assumed to be to offer her services. It was on one of her longer forays when she discovered the inn, where Blanche had established herself during business hours, or the hours that Blanche did business. It was not hard for Sally to spot Blanche; she was an unusual sight, dressed in white evening dress with her high elaborate hairstyle. Blanche sat in solitary splendour drinking quietly at her own small table, her pale eyes taking in all in the room around her. Every now and then a young boy would scuttle in, approach Blanche and hand something to Blanche, which was quickly secreted away. Blanche would hand a few coins over and the young lad would pull his forelock or half bow before leaving without much ado.

  Occasionally there seemed to be some disagreement about the number of coins and a whispered conversation between the boy and Blanche would take place, then she might proffer another coin or two grudgingly. Sally sat on the other side of the room and watched Blanche. Blanche wondered what this young woman’s lay was. Occasionally one of the punters wandered over and brought her another drink, saluting her mockingly with a bow. Blanche smiled and thanked them for the drinks, but did not engage them in conversation. Sally had a few of the regulars asking carefu
lly, who she worked for and when she said she was not working, her price. She brushed them off saying her man would not like that.

  After an hour or so, Sally was considering heading home having not found her afternoon that entertaining, when the woman with white hair, beckoned her over. As she was clearly treated as fairly important by the other patrons, Sally went over intrigued by what she wanted. Blanche gestured for her to take the seat beside her and indicated something to the barkeeper, who sent over two wine glasses and a bottle. As Blanche had been drinking blue ruin, Sally realised she was being treated with some respect and thanked the woman.

  “What’s you name girl? They call me Big Blanche,” she said holding out a hand to shake.

  “I’m Sally, Sally Preston” she replied talking the very white hand and shaking it, finding Blanche had a stronger grip than she had expected.

  “What’s your lay, then? You ain’t no whore, turned down the punters and you’re not dressed to give them much encouragement, either. Pick pocket?”

  “No Ma’am, my man, my fiancé brought me to town, rented me a house. I was a barmaid, but I’m finding it hard to be so idle and I really don’t know what to do with my time. If I try to clean, my maid says that is her job. I learnt to read and write, but I never got into reading for pleasure.”

  “Who’s your man?” Blanche enquired pouring them both another glass. A slightly older boy came and stood before Blanche, glanced at Sally appreciatively and then looked back at Blanche, waiting for her to show interest.

  “What ya got, Tom?” Blanche questioned.

  A small bag was put forward and Blanche glanced inside.

  “Three shillings,” she declared and the small bag disappeared beneath Blanche’s voluminous petticoats, the coins now clutched in Tom’s not quite so clean hands. He doffed his cap and flourished it, before backing to the door and disappearing into the street. Now the interruption had gone Sally replied to Blanche’s question.