Amberley Chronicles Boxset I: The Impostor Debutante My Last Marchioness the Sister Quest (Amberley Chronicles Boxsets Book 1) (10 page)

Chapter 18

Thanks to Charlotte’s hint James knew who the gentleman and the lady had almost certainly been; in fact he already had their address, supplied by his valet, and immediately went onwards to their residence in Half Moon Street.

Alas, it seemed that Mr. and Mrs. Conway were out, or not receiving – it was impossible to tell from their butler’s stony expression.

James left his card, adding before he left, “Please remind your master that I am expecting him to settle our little matter within the next day.” He was pleased to see that the butler nearly lost his composure for an instant. Those ominous words had been the beginning of the end for all too many households.

Should he try to run Conway down at the Bloomsbury address, or at Denton’s? It was far too early for the latter. Remembering Charlotte’s plaintive question, he took himself to his club for his own dinner. His girl did seem very fond of her victuals, he reflected, though she was not putting on any weight that he could see. Some people could eat all the time without getting fat. He himself was one of them. Would that always be the case? Older people sometimes changed and broadened over time.

“Why so morose?” Alphonse materialised next to him, and settled himself at the table without asking for an invitation.

“I was just wondering if I would turn fat in middle age,” James told him.

“Your father never did, I believe? And your mother is still slim at her age. I don’t see much danger of that happening.”

“You are always a comfort, Alphonse.”

His friend grinned. “Now my own parents were getting rather stout during their exile here in England, but since they returned to France last year they have both lost weight. French food is more delicious and less fattening.”

“So why are you still here?”

“I have my reasons,” Alphonse said, evasively. “Time enough to go over myself when I become the Marquis, which I hope is a long way in the future. In any case, if I were not still here, I could not report success to you now. Your papers are in my possession. You owe me ten guineas for expenses.”

“That was very quick.” James was surprised and pleased. At his friend’s advice, he had left the choice and instruction of a suitable actor in Alphonse’s hands. The man would not be able to identify James, if the question ever arose, as being involved in the matter.

“Has Conway paid up yet?”

“No, and in fact I need to do something about him right away.” James told his friend about the scene in Hyde Park in the afternoon. “The woman must have been his new wife, the former Miss Bessemer.”

“Why would she confront your cousin like that?”

“I must suppose that Conway drove her insane with jealousy, and somehow gave her the impression that he was interested in my cousin. Apart from one dance at the Sefton ball, I don’t think they had ever met.” James felt only a small qualm at lying to his best friend; Charlotte’s protection was his paramount consideration.

“The man must be a total fool.”

“No more so than the wife,” James observed. Despite never having met her, he had already formed a violent dislike of the former Miss Bessemer.

“True. Well, that’s what comes of marrying an under-bred cit.” Alphonse shuddered in exaggerated horror. James thought of pointing out that you could find fools in all social classes, but decided it was not worth arguing the point.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I thought of having a talk with the woman and getting her to see sense, but she is not receiving, no doubt mortified after realising what a priceless fool she made of herself in full view of the world. The man himself has yet to pay his debt, but he could just send a messenger for that.”

“He’ll do it himself,” Alphonse predicted. “Won’t want anyone else to know about his gambling problems, or trust his blunt to a servant.”

“Then there’s the Bloomsbury address. With any luck, there should be a report waiting for me at home when I return tonight. I want to find out what the man is up to there.”

“A report? So apart from me, you are employing other minions for your intrigue?”

“I would never call you a minion, Alphonse,” James assured his friend. ”But I do seems to be acquiring some others as I go along.”

“What about hiring a Bow Street Runner? They are supposed to be the best at ferreting out evidence.”

“Yes, I’ve thought of that, but I’m not sure how far I can trust their discretion. This is a very delicate affair; a single loose remark could cause disaster.”

“And of course your own lips are sealed,” Alphonse teased him. James shrugged.

Alphonse continued in a more serious tone, “If you need more help, you know you can count on me. The season’s ending, and I’m getting rather bored with doing the same things day after day.”

“Thanks. I actually might take you up on that.” James drank some wine. “I’ll be going to Covent Garden later in the evening. Mother is taking my cousin, so as to show that we are not cowed by malicious gossip. I’ll come later on, see how they are doing.”

“Rallying round in support,” Alphonse approved. “Very proper. It seems to me that you’re taking a more than cousinly interest in your pretty relative.”

“Well, as George is not here, it falls on me to keep an eye on the ladies of my family,” James replied, trying not to betray his true feelings. “Pretty” was not a word he would have chosen to describe Charlotte.

“Oh, is that all? I think I’ll go to Covent Garden, too, and draw my own conclusions.”

“You are always most welcome, of course.”

Chapter 19

James returned to his lodgings to quickly bathe and change into evening attire. While he was tying his cravat, always an intricate and delicate manoeuvre, Jouvin announced that a Mr. Conway had arrived and was awaiting his host’s convenience in the salon.

James finished his toilette more slowly, to keep the man waiting for a little longer. He needed to gather his wits; he must not betray any knowledge about Charlotte he was not supposed to possess. It would also be impolitic to betray his violent dislike of Conway, although no special cordiality would be necessary towards a casual gambling acquaintance.

When he was ready, he joined his guest, who was standing at the window, looking down on the street.

“Ah, Conway,” James said in a bored voice. “Have you come to settle your debts? No need to have come in person, you know. “

“Ellsworthy. Yes, I came to settle that little matter, but money is the least of your worries,” Conway said in a meaningful way.

James had no trouble affecting surprise at this statement. “Just what can you mean?”

“That it would be in your best interest to forget all about my debt of the other night. If you insist on payment, then you may soon see your family engulfed in an unpleasant scandal.”

“You know,” James said meditatively, “I have trouble imagining a more contemptible thing, than to use and humiliate your own wife to make trouble for someone else.  That was your wife who accosted my cousin in the park this afternoon, I take it?”

Conway seemed a bit put out at James’s knowledge of that scene, just a few hours past, but quickly rallied. “Never mind about that, though it does show how quickly people can be got to talk, about anyone, really. What about the money?”

“You will pay every single penny of it, Conway, and to hell with your blackmailing insinuations. I am surprised that a bigamist and fortune hunter of your ilk would even dare to make such threats. Isn’t there a saying about people in glass houses?”

“You will regret that attitude.”

“Possibly, but it is against my principles to give in to loathsome insects of your type. Aren’t you afraid I might go to your father-in-law and tell him that you and his daughter are not legally married?”

He was watching Conway carefully, but was disappointed at the man’s lack of concern. In the dicing session, he had not seemed so composed. Did he have some ace up his sleeve?

“You’d be making a fool of yourself; my marriage to the current Mrs. Conway is quite legal.”

“And does the man also know about your gambling habit?”

“Every gentleman gambles.”

“But you, Conway, are no gentleman.” James had forgotten all about his intention not to betray his feelings or his knowledge. “If you bother or slander any lady connected to my family in any way, there will be swift and total retribution, I promise you that. As for the money, if you haven’t brought it with you now, I expect a draft within the next twenty-four hours, or I will spread the news of your insolvency all over Denton’s and similar places. Your choice.”

“As you like, Ellsworthy. It’s your own funeral.” Before stalking out, Conway shot James a look he didn’t like at all. The man was still dangerous, he felt. What now?

And what had the man meant, his current marriage was quite legal? Either he was lying and bluffing – but after seeing him gambling, James did not have a great respect for his acting abilities – or there was a factor of which James was not aware.

Conway’s marriage to Miss Bessemer could only be legal if his previous one to Charlotte was not.

Careful, James warned himself. Was he being misled by his own wishes and desires? To have Charlotte free of this villain would be eminently desirable in his own eyes, and possibly in hers. Still, to have contracted an invalid marriage, and actually lived with the scoundrel, would be enough to ruin her in society’s eyes, even more completely than her current imposture. If this theory had any merit, Charlotte was more vulnerable, and Conway less so, than he had supposed.

If it should turn out that Charlotte was free, what did it mean for him? James did not feel the slightest doubt or hesitation in answering this question. If she were free, he’d marry her as quickly as he could get her to an altar. By special license, preferably, and then he’d carry her off on a wedding trip, as George had just done with Marianne, and proceed to enjoy her company, and her body, every day and night for the rest of his life.

True, there were quite a few hurdles to be got over before that happy consummation could take place. James was determined to make short work of them, now that he was clear on what he wanted to achieve.

Chapter 20

Charlotte had always prided herself on steady nerves, but she was feeling distinctly uneasy about her appearance at Covent Garden that evening.

Her gown, at least, would not give anyone reason for criticism; it was nicely judged to frame and display her charms without straying over the line of the acceptable for a debutante. In almost transparent white and silver, complimented by the ancient Amberley pearl set, she looked almost bridal. A singularly inappropriate look for her, if only the truth were known.

It was so warm in the carriage that she was not wearing her cape over the gown, though it was at hand in case the weather might become cooler later on. Maybe she should have worn it anyway; she distinctly noticed goose-bumps on the strip of skin above her long white evening gloves.

Lady Amberley was clad in an amber silk gown and sporting a set of topazes lavishly set in heavy gold. Her expression was still peevish. Charlotte was feeling so little welcome in her hostess’ company that she fell to planning, once again, how to best extricate herself from the current fix and return post-haste to Yorkshire.

Unfortunately she didn’t have quite enough cash on hand for the expense of hiring the indispensable maid that a respectable woman needed for company, as well as the fare and other travelling expenses. She had noted that the various hostelries along the Great North Road were charging far more for food and refreshments than establishments in less advantageous locations. If travellers did not want to starve, or perish from thirst, they had little choice but to pay up.

In her ignorance, she had brought enough – she thought – to finance an escape, if it became necessary, but she had underestimated the expenses involved. As matters stood now, there was no chance of receiving any moneys from the Yardley accounts in the immediate future, so she was at a stand.

“If you look this gloomy at the theatre,” Lady Amberley observed, “then we might as well have spared ourselves the trouble of going out.”

“I will try to look more cheerful, then, thank you for reminding me.”

“Looking cheerful is vulgar, Belinda. You are supposed to look superior and indifferent, with a very faint smile if something amuses you. Didn’t my sister teach you any of this?”

“No, but then she died long before I could go into society, Aunt. She herself always showed her emotions quite openly.”

“Yes, I remember. It sometimes made her seem deplorably naïve.”

“On that subject we must disagree then. I am not willing to listen to any criticism of my mother.”

A silence lasted for two or three minutes, before Charlotte ventured, “Do you know what piece will be performed tonight?”

“It hardly matters. If it is an opera, then we’ll be sitting through a lot of singing in Italian, which I can’t abide. If it’s a play, then one often can’t hear the words for all the noise in the audience, particularly in the pit. The point of attending is in being seen, the entertainment is just the excuse.”

“I see,” Charlotte said, disappointed.

“If anyone has the impertinence to refer to the scene in the park, you have to maintain complete mystification what it was all about,” Lady Amberley warned. “Then immediately turn the subject.”

“As I don’t have any idea who the woman was and why she accosted me, that should not be difficult.”

“Hmmph.” Lady Amberley did not seem entirely satisfied with her denial. “In my experience, there are precious few cases of smoke without fire.”

Charlotte maintained a stony silence until they arrived at the theatre.

“Since we should always have at least one gentleman in our party, I have invited Lord Monksley and his mother to join us in our box,” Lady Amberley mentioned casually as they were about to descend.

Charlotte had to suppress a groan. Monksley, a well-to-do baron, was the most persistent of her “suitors”, as Lady Amberley would refer to them. She had met the mother among the callers after the Sefton ball. Charlotte liked that friendly and inoffensive lady rather better than her colourless son. She hated encouraging their interest under false pretences.

“They don’t know about that woman in the park, do they?”

“Very likely they do. You have no idea how quickly rumours spread among our circles.”

“Just like a small town or village.” Charlotte followed Lady Amberley up the elegant staircase, looking curiously around her at the throng of elegant ladies and gentlemen. Nobody seemed to be paying her excessive attention so far.

Lord and Lady Monksley were already waiting in the box. After a general round of greeting, Lady Amberley directed Charlotte to sit in front, next to herself, with the young man. Lady Monksley seemed quite content to sit in the back row, flanked by two empty chairs.

Lady Amberley produced a diamond-encrusted lorgnette from her reticule, and began to scrutinize the people filling the adjoining boxes.

“I see Doncaster is back in town,” she remarked.

“Won’t be for long, he always goes home in July,” Lord Monksley replied.

Charlotte found this inconsequential chatter about people she did not know excessively tedious, so she did not participate in their talk, and instead mentally composed her next letter to her sister.

“My dear Lady Amberley!” An elderly lady in black had entered their box. “I just wanted to quickly express my sympathy for your poor niece, before the performance starts. Such an unpleasant experience!”

“Yes, there are many strange people in the capital, but fortunately Miss Yardley is none the worse for it,” Lady Amberley returned. “Belinda, my dear, I don’t think I have yet presented you. My niece Belinda Yardley, the dowager Countess Jarvisham.”

“I am most pleased to make your acquaintance,” Charlotte said.

“Ha! A pretty enough girl, Millicent,” Lady Jarvis pronounced, not directly answering Charlotte. Then, turning her piercing black eyes back on her, she asked, “Who was that woman in the park, and why would she think you are interested in her husband?”

“I wish I knew that myself, Ma’am. It is all very puzzling, as I have just recently arrived from Yorkshire. But Lady Amberley has told me not to dwell on such unpleasant and vulgar persons, and instead enjoy the performance tonight. Do you like plays or opera more?”

Her blue eyes firmly locked onto Lady Jarvisham’s, daring her to continue her interrogation. After a moment, that lady chuckled.

“You’ve got bottom, I’ll give you that. Come and visit me – I’m at home on Thursdays. Time I went to my own box.” She disappeared in a rustle of silk.

“She gives me the shivers,” Lord Monksley said, in a low voice. “You are very brave to be able to stand up to Lady Jarvisham like that.”

“Why, what could she do to me?”

Lady Amberley shook her head. “She could ruin you with a word, her consequence is enormous. But for some strange reason she seems to like you.”

“Strange reason? Everyone must surely like Miss Yardley,” Lord Monksley objected.

“As you say.” Lady Amberley seemed disinclined to argue the matter. “Have you seen that bilious green coat Harvey is sporting tonight?”

The music began just then, Mozart’s
Idomeneo
, in Italian, as Lady Amberley had predicted.

Charlotte tuned the talk out once again, made sure that a faint haughty smile was firmly fixed on her face, and started to brood about James.

No denying it, she was strongly attracted to his body, as well as liking him as a person. But she could not and would not have an affair with him. Life as a fallen woman had no allure for her, she had always been too sensible to even be tempted. And, she uneasily recalled, the pleasures of the marriage bed, while mildly enjoyable at first, were not so wonderful that they constituted a great enticement.

Might these not be much better, though, with a man she actually liked and respected? Maybe he’d do things differently, to please her as well as himself. She had heard that such a thing was possible. But the desire to find out was hardly reason enough to court ruin.

She contemplated her husband, making love to that thin woman in pink every night, in his selfish way, without a thought for her. All she felt was disgust and a certain impatient pity for the woman. She was well rid of Peter – but she wasn’t really, was she? Like an invisible millstone tied to her neck, she still dragged him around with her wherever she went. He took his pleasure where he might, and she was left to suffer in silence. It was not fair.

And would it really be ruin to have an affair with a young man, as long as no pregnancy resulted? She’d heard that there were ways to prevent that, though respectable women only employed them for medical reasons, after too many births had weakened their body. Unfortunately she had only the vaguest idea about them, gleaned from the conversations of other officers’ wives. Even thinking about the possible mechanics seemed wicked and sordid.

Of course people like Lady Amberley would already consider Charlotte irretrievably ruined, considering that she was the illegitimate child of an actress, brought up in her father’s family by a quirk of fate. But there it was; Lady Yardley, the only mother she had known as long as she could remember, had brought her up to be a lady and to conform in her behaviour to the same principles she expected of Belinda, or other young ladies of impeccable birth. She could not throw her upbringing overboard at this late date without betraying who she was, and all she had been taught.

And yet - Charlotte had always been conscious of how unfair and arbitrary these rules of conduct were, when you set expectations for young men and women side by side. The hypocrisy inherent in the system could not but obtrude itself on any person of ordinary intelligence.

Obviously she could not openly live or have an affair with James, but were there circumstances where such a thing might remain secret, and without consequences? If she knew for sure that nobody would ever find out, would her conscience permit her to indulge her wicked wishes?

Vaguely noting the beautiful music flooding the theatre, Charlotte concluded that under such conditions, her conscience would not raise very violent objections, and her self-respect would be preserved. James and she could meet and sport on equal terms, in such a fantasy. 

But fantasy it would have to remain. Gossip and ruin were all too real, and could not be disregarded.

“You are very silent,” Lord Monksley said to her at the end of an aria.

“I am enjoying the music. We don’t often have such elaborate performances in Yorkshire.”

“So you love music? Do you perform yourself, Miss Yardley?”

“I was taught the pianoforte, but I am only indifferently talented, I’m afraid, and have neglected my practice of late.”

“You can use the instrument in our music room at any time,” Lady Amberley said. “Such accomplishments are expected in all young ladies of rank.”

“I can imagine nothing more charmingly domestic,” Lord Monksley agreed, “than to have a little music every evening after dinner, so that all the senses are delighted.”

“And do you play yourself?” Charlotte did not want to dwell on the picture he had created.

“Ah, no, it’s usually the ladies of the house who provide this stimulating artistic pleasure.”

Charlotte allowed her smile to widen the tiniest fraction, and returned to rapt contemplation of the singers’ performance.