The Making of Mrs. Hale

by Carolyn Miller

  He breathed in and then exhaled, filling the minutes with further prayers. For Julia. Their marriage. For Charles. For their protection. For the earl. For justice.

  Hawkesbury’s tall, caped figure came striding down the steps before he paused, tapped his curly brimmed beaver twice—the signal—then moved to his waiting curricle. He spoke to his groom, McHendricks, whose brusque manner and look of decided dissatisfaction underlay a sense of very real affection, evident earlier in his gruff approbation of the earl’s plan.

  They set off, and within a minute, Thomas saw a figure slink to a hackney ahead of him and speak urgently to the driver. By now the earl’s curricle was slowing, turning at the corner, before pausing ever so briefly as McHendricks stepped down and moved to a shaded shopfront.

  The earl’s shadow had by this stage convinced the hackney to follow the curricle, leaving Thomas to wait for Fallbright to make his move. Sure enough, the toad-like figure soon waddled down the steps, casting a look in either direction, which made Thomas draw back into the dimness of the interior, and hope fervently that the hackney’s exterior shabbiness would not draw Fallbright’s desire to hire such a conveyance.

  “How much?” came the voice outside.

  His pulse accelerated. Dear God, don’t let him peer inside.

  “I’m sorry, sir. This vehicle is already hired.”

  “Really?”

  At the sound of annoyance, Thomas lumbered to the forward seat, stretching his legs across the seat where he had just been sitting, and slouched, face averted from the window.

  “I see no one—oh, I beg your pardon, sir.” The voice faded, the sound of footsteps suggested he had moved away.

  Thomas exhaled, but it was only when he heard the cab driver mutter, “He’s gone now, sir,” that he moved back to his previous position.

  “Has he found a cab?” Thomas asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Follow him.”

  “Right you ’ave it, then.”

  Within seconds they were moving, were approaching the corner where McHendricks had departed the earl’s curricle only minutes earlier. Thomas unlatched the door, opened it, and the groom—proving far sprightlier than his age would suggest—scrambled inside, much to the vocal disgust of the driver.

  “Never mind that,” Thomas called. “Just don’t lose him.” He turned to Hawkesbury’s groom. “Did his lordship say anything?”

  “He said to tell you that Fallbright appeared quite shocked at the allegations, that he denied everything, but his lordship suspected he was more unnerved than he wanted to appear.”

  Thomas nodded. “And where is his lordship going now?”

  McHendricks gave a rasp of laughter. “He plans on leading any pursuer on a very extensive trail through what he called the ‘better parts of London,’ as much to give any tail an education as to tire him out, so he said. The horses be very fresh, and will be right to go for hours.”

  Thomas’s grin faded. “He was being tailed.”

  “Aye, by a nasty-looking fellow in a gray coat. I memorized his face, and know what to look out for.”

  “Good.”

  “I don’t mind telling you, sir, that I do not like this business.”

  “No. We can but pray that things resolve quickly without any injury.”

  They relapsed into silence as the hackney continued its winding progression. Then it slowed, and finally came to a halt.

  “He’s getting out, sir,” the hackney driver called.

  Thomas peered out the window, spied the bowed window of White’s Gentlemen’s Club. Muttered an oath under his breath.

  McHendricks frowned. “I don’t think his lordship imagined Fallbright would come to such a place.”

  “No. It certainly won’t work to have you follow him in there.” Thomas thought quickly. “I think you should take the cab and get reinforcements.” He gave instruction. “I will have to go in.”

  “You, sir?” McHendricks looked at him doubtfully.

  “I have been a guest in the past. I hope the doorman remembers.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “Oy!” called the cab driver. “You planning on getting out anytime soon? I’ve got places to be.”

  “Exactly so,” Thomas said, climbing gingerly down the steps, balancing with his cane. “You will need to go to this address as quickly as you can. It is a matter of some urgency.” He dug into his breeches pocket, gave the man a more than sufficient coin. “There is another one for you if you can return within the half hour.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Thomas nodded to McHendricks and limped towards the steps. He wished now that he had taken more pains with his attire, but he had certainly had no expectation of being in such an establishment today. He could only hope that he could persuade the doorman to help him.

  Drawing himself up, he moved to the steps. Nodded to the burly man on duty. “Good afternoon.”

  The doorman blinked. “Major Hale? I thought—we heard that you had died, sir.”

  “News of my demise has proved rather premature.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  He stepped closer, averting his face as a trio of gentlemen exited the establishment. “I have need of your help.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “You may remember my friends Lord Winthrop and Lord Carmichael that was—”

  “The new Earl of Bevington, that’s right, I recall.”

  “Yes, well, I find myself a little early in my meeting with Lord Bevington …” Thomas paused.

  “Well, we don’t normally permit entry without a member, but seeing as you’re not dead, after all.”

  “Thank you. You are a prince among men.”

  “If you say so, sir.”

  “I do. And I would be most obliged if you were to forget that I am not dead.”

  “Sir?”

  Thomas gave a thin smile. “It seems some would prefer the accounts of my death to be factual, and I am hopeful to accord them the pleasure of that belief for as long as possible.”

  “Very good, sir.” The man drew open the door, gestured to the member’s register. “I believe you will find the name Smith to be quite a popular one.”

  “Thank you. Oh, and one more thing. The gentleman who entered before?”

  “Colonel Fallbright?”

  “Yes. I wonder if you know with whom he meets. I did not figure him to be a member of White’s.”

  “Ah, well that I can tell you. He is a member, but he visits infrequently. I believe he was to meet a military person.”

  “Thank you.” Thomas nodded, and gingerly maneuvered his way inside.

  The marbled hall gave way to a reading room, beyond which was a dining area and several private rooms, with the gaming facilities farther on. He hoped Fallbright would not have ventured that far; he lacked funds, and doubted he could keep his identity—and lack of death—quiet for much longer. Merciful Father, keep me from recognition …

  “Well, Hale!”

  He turned, caught sight of an old acquaintance, a General Whitby, with whom he had served in Calcutta. So much for God answering his prayers. “Hello, sir.”

  “I read that you were dead!” Whitby frowned. “I’m glad to see you’re not, but you do not appear to be at all the thing, my dear fellow. What has happened to you, and whatever was that notice doing in The Times?”

  “A sad piece of misinformation.”

  “Indeed!” The general began what threatened to be a long exposition on the falsehoods printed in the papers, prompting Thomas to interrupt.

  “Sir, I need your help.”

  “Certainly. What can I do?”

  He gestured to a small alcove, and said in a hushed voice, “Colonel Fallbright—”

  The general made a noise of disgust. “Can’t stand the man. Pompous little popinjay, and all the more so since he got that confounded promotion. What about him?”

  “I am not a member, but I need to know with whom he is meeting.”

&nbs
p; The general nodded, murmured for him to wait, then strode into the reading room, exclaiming loudly about his missing eyeglasses. Within a minute he had returned, and murmured about a rather tanned, mustachioed, Scottish-sounding fellow. “Why do you want to know?”

  “That death notice you read? I believe it was they who tried to make it true.”

  “No! You don’t say.” Whitby stroked his chin. “Well, I’m not about to lose one of my best men to the likes of a toad-eater like him! Come, let’s see what we can learn. Follow me.”

  Sincerely hoping that the general would not feel the need to advertise his presence, Thomas followed him, head lowered, to a high-backed sofa positioned behind where Fallbright sat. Thomas snatched up a newspaper, and pretended to read, while the low-voiced conversation continued behind them.

  “… think he is! Had the nerve to threaten me with parliamentary inquiry …”

  “We need to deal with him also,” came a voice, unmistakably McKinley’s.

  Thomas’s breath suspended. He sank lower in his chair.

  The whispers continued, and he listened avidly to their complaints. It seemed they still had not learned that Thomas had survived, which made his current position all the more precarious. He heard further details about what Fallbright wished to do about Hawkesbury, but the threats sounded idle.

  The conversation moved to other things, leaving Thomas wondering how to extricate himself, when a familiar face appeared in the doorway.

  Harry spied him, and gestured for him to come close, but before he could move another voice said, “Well, Bevington, I certainly did not expect to see you here.”

  A somewhat corpulent figure strode into view, one Thomas recognized from his time playing cards in many a saloon. Thomas froze. The conversation behind him had ceased, as had every other conversation in the room, what faces Thomas could see all turned expectantly to the two standing at the door. Lord Ashbolt’s dislike of Harry was well-known.

  Harry sighed. “Alas, it seems I was born to forever disappoint certain people.”

  “What do you do here? I thought you’d be tucked away in Derbyshire trying to sort that sorry mess.”

  “Your condolences on my father’s recent passing humble me with the depth of their sincerity, my lord.”

  Ashbolt flushed, muttered something, to which Harry responded with a sweet smile. “You are right, I have been plagued with a number of sad events of late.” He pushed into the room, addressing the assembly at large. “Forgive me, gentlemen, I know it is not at all the done thing, but I cannot abide being mocked while my grief is still so raw. I’m sure you can all understand.”

  This speech caused the other man to quickly disappear, while Harry searched the room. “Why, General Whitby, how are you?”

  What was he doing? Did he not remember the plan? Thomas gestured for Harry to move away, but after one half smile in his direction, Harry refused to acknowledge him.

  “I’m sure you must also be lamenting the loss of our dear friend.”

  The general harrumphed and agreed, saying, with a sideways glance at Thomas who quickly resumed his newspaper screen, “There are many of us who feel that way.” Then, as if taken by surprise, he said, “Why, here is Colonel Fallbright!” He stood, moving away to stand near the center table, thus drawing attention away from Thomas’s position on the sofa. “Well, Colonel, I’m sure you would have learned about the recent death of one of my most highly decorated soldiers.”

  Thomas froze. This definitely was not how the plan was supposed to proceed.

  “Ah, I’m afraid I cannot be certain of whom you mean.”

  “Major Hale, of course. Did you not see his death notice in the papers?”

  Thomas shifted lower in his seat, hitched the paper higher.

  “I … er …”

  “I would have imagined you would know,” Harry said sweetly. “I understood he worked for you.”

  What? Harry, no.

  “I’m afraid your lordship must be mistaken—”

  “Oh, no, there’s no mistake,” Harry continued. “He told me so himself.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Colonel, you surprise me. Did you not know he was in your employ? Mind you, he also told me something very interesting about a little trip to the Continent, for which he and several others did not receive the recompense they were due.”

  Behind Thomas’s seat, Fallbright made a gobbling kind of noise.

  “I wonder, did he ever mention that to you? No? Hmm, again, that strikes me as strange, seeing as he told me he had mentioned it to you.”

  “Is this so?” the general said, his voice now harder. “I cannot like to hear my men being treated in such a shabby fashion.”

  “Then you probably won’t like to know that poor Hale was set upon not ten minutes after leaving Fallbright’s chambers. A coincidence? I wonder.”

  There was the sound of a chair pushing back, then Thomas heard Fallbright say something about scurrilous accusations, libelous allegations, and promises to sue for character defamation.

  Harry laughed. “It’s only defamation if it is not true.”

  “You cannot say such things!” McKinley said.

  “You’d be surprised at just what I can say,” Lord Bevington continued. “But there is no need to wonder at the veracity of my claims.”

  Oh, no.

  “Why don’t you instead ask the man himself?”

  Dear God, no. Thomas lowered the newspaper, silently imploring Harry to cease.

  His friend only smiled. “Yes, gentlemen,” Harry continued, “I stand before you today in the presence of a true and living miracle! It is not every day that a man can be said to have returned from the dead, but today, in this very place, it can be said to have happened. And you are all witnesses.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean …”

  “Major Hale?” Ashbolt’s voice came from the door.

  Thomas looked to the door, then looked at where Fallbright and McKinley stood open-mouthed, staring at him. He heard the room fill with soft mutters of disbelief, the odd curse.

  “You’re supposed—I thought—”

  “I was dead?” Thomas pushed to his feet, wavering slightly until he steadied himself by grasping the back of a chair. “I understand you hoped that would be the case.”

  “Well, no! Of course not,” Fallbright blustered. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  “Because you did not want everyone knowing about what happened in Poona all those years ago.”

  “What’s this?” the general said, looking between them.

  “I can well understand why you would be keen to silence those who knew,” Thomas continued. “But it seems your methods are not as effective as you might have hoped.”

  “Hale, you do not seem well, you are not talking sense. It seems you have misunderstood some things. Perhaps if we were to discuss things in a more private location—”

  “So you can attack him again?” Harry asked sardonically.

  “Of course not!”

  “Once—I beg your pardon—twice now, was enough, was it?”

  “Sir, I really must take exception to such remarks!”

  “Well, of course you would,” Harry murmured, with a glance at Thomas. “What do you say, Major?”

  “I would ask,” Thomas said loudly, with a glance around the room, “whether I misunderstood you, Fallbright, when you agreed with your companion just now that Lord Hawkesbury should be ‘dealt with also.’”

  The murmurs around the room took on a new intensity as Fallbright protested. “You lie!”

  “No, I heard you also,” said the general. “What did you mean by such a thing?”

  “I … er—”

  “It would seem that you were making threats against a peer of the realm.”

  Various other peers of the realm leaned forward, now also wearing scowls.

  “I did not!”

  “Then perhaps,” came a lazy drawl from the doorway
, “you can explain why I was followed this afternoon after I left your office.”

  The room took a collective gasp as Lord Hawkesbury strode into the room. He nodded to various gentlemen, gave Thomas a small smile, before his gaze hardened on Fallbright and McKinley. “It may interest you to know, gentlemen, that upon my return home I was in receipt of a letter, a letter from my solicitor in Edinburgh. The contents itself proved interesting, all the more so when I learned from my groom that one of the men it mentioned had immediately left my interview with him to come here.”

  Fallbright’s face paled.

  “This was despite the colonel saying he was tied up in government business all afternoon, and could not spare me a moment longer. It left me with the distinct impression of being fobbed off.”

  Thomas glanced around the room, unsurprised by the engrossed faces.

  “I don’t know about you, but I hate to be fobbed off, although such seems to be some people’s way. Now, would you like to know what my letter from Edinburgh contains?” He gave Fallbright and McKinley a hard stare. “No? Somehow that does not surprise me. Well, I think for the sake of those in the room who have no wish to see their fellow club members mysteriously disappear that I best share from it anyway. It seems that after my brief sojourn in that fair city, during which I was so fortuitous as to make the acquaintance of our Scottish friend here, that a young boy recalled seeing a certain man named Bucknell following Major Hale down an alley, this man having been seen speaking with McKinley not an hour earlier.”

  “You believe a small boy?” McKinley sneered.

  “Yes. I do. And it seems the chief magistrate does also. And he has taken the testimony of a retired sea captain who recalls seeing the same man dumping a suspicious load in Newhaven harbor, only an hour or so after the boy spied Bucknell with the major here. Now it does not take a genius to join certain points of interest and reach a particular conclusion.”

  “I will sue you for libel,” said McKinley, white around the jaw.

  “And I will see that you are tried for attempted murder,” said the earl, looking as fierce as Thomas could recall seeing him. “Arrest him!”

  But before the earl’s raised voice could bring in the burly doorman, McKinley was rushing through the room. Thomas tried to trip him with his cane, but although McKinley stumbled, he soon righted himself and escaped through the door.