Bad Miss Bennet (7 page)

I returned to my room and sat down to write a soothing reply to my sister. I needed to allay any suspicions in that quarter. Reviewing the events of the last few weeks I had to admit my stay in London had been full of incident but that I was no closer to achieving my ambitions, to wit, dancing at Almack's and getting to Paris. A great deal more money, subterfuge and pleasing men would be required before I realised these simple desires. The very thought made me fatigued and I looked longingly at the bed I had just vacated.

My encounter with Jerry Sartain had disordered my wits completely. I needed to calm myself and decide on a course of action. I wondered uneasily when I would receive the message he had spoken of. Would he know I was leaving for Brighton? I suspected that his spies were numerous.

Normally, such an excursion would fill me with joy but the complications in my life were causing me great anxiety. I am known for my carefree nature but life has a way of curing such tendencies.

When I went down to the dining room for lunch I was displeased to find yet another letter waiting for me. This time it was from my parents requesting a close account of my life in the capital. My vexations grow larger by the minute.

Selena was despondent, drooping over her soup after checking the family budget.

‘I am afraid we will not be able to join you in Brighton, my dear,' Miles remarked apologetically. ‘My beloved wife, who holds the purse strings, tells me we have not a penny to bless ourselves with – or at least, not many.'

‘We must pay some of our creditors,' snapped his wife. ‘If you spent less on tobacco, gambling and strong drink, not to mention etchings, we might be in a less parlous condition.' Miles looked suitably chastened and kissed her hand.

‘I will endeavour to sell a few items, my dear. That will set us right. We have been in this situation before and we will pull through.' His wife looked unconvinced.

‘We must have another
soirée
with the cards when I return from Brighton,' I declared.

‘Has Mr Getheridge mentioned where you will stay when you are there?' my friend asked. ‘Shall you stay in a hotel or will he take rooms for you? You know he has a house there. His mistress, Maria somebody, resides there and she is a fearsome woman I have heard.'

I told her he had not mentioned any details but he had promised that we would attend the Prince Regent at the Royal Pavilion amid scenes of unrivalled splendour and gaiety. Selena gave me with a look that spoke volumes but I preferred to anticipate the pleasures awaiting me.

‘The sea air will be most beneficial,' said Miles with his beatific smile.

As for Sartain, all I had to do was supply him with a few details easily acquired. I struggled with my conscience, truly, dear reader, but the would-be victims were wealthy and could afford the loss. I knew I had a duty to hand the villainous Jerry over to the authorities but my desire to see him again overpowered my better nature.

The problem of Mr Getheridge remained. I fingered the gold watch at my bosom and decided to adopt a course of ‘wait and see' as far as that gentleman was concerned.

As we were getting up from the table Selena's maid rushed in with the news that Lord Byron was expected to leave his house in a nearby street within the hour prior to fleeing to the continent.

We were agog with excitement, throwing on our bonnets and rushing out of the house. Miles was obliged to follow unwillingly. I confess that I was overcome with joy at possibly seeing my hero in the flesh and desolated that it might be the first and last time.

London was afire with talk of his lordship's indiscretions with Lady Caroline Lamb and many other society women. There was also dark talk of a liaison with his half sister but I refused to believe such things. Hypocrisy and the narrow minds of the English had combined to ruin our greatest poet, the very embodiment of Romance and Passion. Now he was being forced to leave the country, leaving many a broken heart in his wake.

Selena and I tried to force a way through the crowd but it was impossible. I saw only a glimpse of a pale, set face and dark curls as he entered a carriage and was driven away. Later, we heard that many women had followed him to Dover to bid him farewell. How I longed to be one of them but I was obliged to review my wardrobe in preparation for the visit to Brighton. My heart was lightened by the thought that I also might one day reside on the continent and our paths might cross.

When we returned to the house Selena and I retreated to the music room where a cosy fire had been lit. We had barely settled ourselves when another caller was announced.

‘Are we at home to Lord Finchbrook?' Selena asked.

‘It is your choice,' I replied. ‘You know he only comes to make sheep's eyes at you.' When his lordship entered I was relieved to discover that he knew nothing of my adventures. He was delighted to hear of my departure for Brighton.

‘Excellent, my dear, we will all take a jaunt down there. I shall have an opportunity to show the paces of my new pair.' I assumed he was referring to horses. Miles burst into the room at this point exclaiming, ‘Turkey rhubarb and sulphuric acid!' Seeing our startled faces he explained that he had just heard from the cook that this combination was a sovereign cure for all ailments.

Finchbrook looked puzzled. ‘I thank you, sir, but I am quite well at the moment.' I closed my eyes.

‘Miles,' said Selena, ‘do be quiet.'

I had a great deal add to my journal that night, although I was puzzled as to how to record the more intimate details without offending a gentle reader. I consulted Mrs Radcliffe's works but they offered nothing appropriate. After I had written letters of duty to my family I sent a note to my sister Kitty giving her a hint of my exciting new life in London, omitting the more scurrilous events, naturally. I knew she would enjoy the stories and could be trusted to keep her own counsel. We had always confided in each other.

Chapter Six

Brighton, January 1816

Two days later I departed for Brighton with Mr Getheridge. As I was handed into the carriage the footman contrived to press a note into my hand. I hid it in my reticule. My highwayman had not forgotten me.

It is said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Certainly, the road to Brighton provided some time for formulating intentions, good and otherwise. I tried to obtain details from Mr Getheridge about my lodgings but he would say only that they were conveniently situated near the centre of town, in George Street. I noticed that he would not meet my eye when he said this. Selena's words rang in my ears.

‘Maria somebody, his mistress, is a fearsome woman.' Not to mention his wife or wives. I resolved to avoid these ladies as far as possible. Selena had also voiced doubts about going to Brighton so early in the year. Would anyone of consequence be there? In between pleasing Mr Getheridge, fulfilling my promises to Jerry Sartain and avoiding fearsome women, I would have little time to please myself. Why and how had my life become so exhausting?

Mr Getheridge changed the subject, preferring to describe the delights of the Royal Pavilion, still under construction, with its curious oriental domes and exotic appearance. He promised me that we would attend one of the Prince Regent's assemblies. I closed my eyes, imagining the food, the music, the dancing and the opportunities for dalliance.

My companion droned on ceaselessly as the green and chilly countryside passed the windows.

‘The opulence of the prince's apartments is unimaginable: the lights, the perfumed chambers, the finest music.' I nodded and smiled, half asleep and worrying about fearsome women.

‘The prince has a shower bath, a vapour bath, a douche bath and a plunge bath,' he continued. I gathered that Prinny was fastidious in his bodily hygiene, if not in his morals.

‘It is unfortunate that the weather will not permit any sea bathing,' said my admirer with a provocative leer. ‘You would look charming in your swimming costume, my dear!' I struck him with my reticule at this point. ‘I was merely thinking of your health!' he protested. ‘Sea water is very beneficial. His Royal Highness rates it very highly.' I closed my eyes for a moment imagining the corpulent Regent staggering into the waves. It was not a pretty picture.

Getheridge seemed as excited as a child about a trip to the seaside but there was a wild edge to his gaiety that unnerved me a little. He chattered like an old woman, only attempting an occasional embrace or knee squeeze.

Thankfully, at this point we stopped at Cuckfield to take lunch at the Prince of Wales Inn. We were three quarters of the way through our journey, unmolested by highwaymen, and during the meal I attempted once more to extract information about my living arrangements.

Getheridge gnawed on a lamb bone like an anxious terrier and told me not to upset myself. I had engaged a maid to accompany me but I was well aware that if it became known that I was unchaperoned tongues would wag and my widowed status would not protect me.

The maid had been recommended by the cook at Curzon Street before she left in high dudgeon due to the late payment of her wages. The girl had duly presented herself, offering excellent references which I did not take up at the time and which in any case she later admitted were fakes. Her father was a printer and could supply her with any number of such things. Nevertheless, her manner was bright and intelligent and she proved to be adept at her duties, scurrying around like a perspicacious ant, her small, bright blue eyes agleam with curiosity, and her fair curls standing up around her head like a halo. Adelaide, however, was no angel.

She was sharp-eyed and quick-witted, able to judge a situation immediately and act accordingly. Most of the time she acted for my benefit, but there were times when she furthered her own ends. With hindsight I could scarcely blame her for that.

When I found a few moments in which to question her about her previous employment her account was quite startling.

‘I worked for Lady Fortescue before I came to you, madam. I went to her household, but I didn't intend to be a slavey, did I?' I nodded and she continued.

‘The house was but a few yards from the London home of that Lady Caroline Lamb. You know of her, don't you, madam?' Indeed I did. Everyone in London knew of that lady – Lord Byron's tempestuous former lover.

‘Well, madam,' Adelaide continued, ‘Life at Lady F's was all very fine but very quiet like. I was treated well enough. I was a housemaid, you see, not a kitchen wench.' I felt puzzled.

‘What exactly are you trying to tell me?' Her face twisted into an alarming rictus.

‘I just wanted you to know what I did, madam.'

‘Which was?'

‘I used to watch Lady Caroline's comings and goings. Up to all sorts she was, even though she was married. Sometimes she would soak her muslin gowns and wear them like that. The muslin would cling to her body showing everything.

‘To be exact, I used to give titbits of gossip to one of the scandal sheets – the
Chronicle
, it was. Them writer fellers would wait outside the 'ouse for me and pay me for the information.'

‘My goodness!' I muttered, being lost for words.

‘I just wanted you to know, madam.'

‘And can I expect the same treatment?'

Adelaide assured me that she was a reformed character. ‘It was the boredom what made me do it,' she explained. I realised why she had to fake her references.

‘Did Lady Fortescue discover what you were doing?' I asked.

‘Yes,' she admitted, ‘someone betrayed me and I was dismissed at once.'

I could not reproach her. In the circumstances I might have done something similar. My maid and I were well suited.

As we left the inn to continue the journey Adelaide uttered a scream when Selena and Miles popped out of an adjoining room and accosted us merrily.

‘We could not pass this opportunity to take the sea air in good company,' my friend gushed to an astonished Mr Getheridge.

‘Yes, indeed,' said Miles, who declared that he was feeling quite jaded and needed perking up.

My patron did not exactly gnash his teeth, but he appeared to restrain himself with an immense effort. Miles placed an arm affectionately round his shoulders and steered him towards the carriage. Selena quickly drew me aside.

‘We could not allow you to continue this ridiculous adventure alone,' she lectured. ‘After the incident with the highwayman I realised that your judgement was seriously awry and that you needed to be protected from yourself.' I shook her hand away.

‘Do not be ridiculous. You were encouraging me to encourage Mr Getheridge only a short time ago.'

‘I have had time to review the situation,' she said, breathing deeply. ‘There is a delicate balance to be maintained if we are to advance our position. We cannot afford to outrage society. I am here to restrain you, if necessary.' I felt vexed by her remarks and even more so when I admitted to myself, reluctantly, that she was right. Selena was usually right. It was most annoying. I tried to sound confident.

‘He has taken rooms for me in George Street,' I told her. ‘He will be staying in his own house. It will look perfectly respectable.'

‘Then we will take rooms nearby,' she said firmly. ‘Miles says there is an inn on George Street, the King's Head. We will lodge there.' I deduced that their finances had taken a sudden turn for the better or that Lord Finchbrook was assisting them.

When I told Mr Getheridge of their intentions he turned puce and began to sweat profusely. ‘The King's Head you say? No. I would not advise that at all.' From then on he huddled in a corner of the coach muttering under his breath. I began to fear that I had taken up with a mad man. Adelaide was obviously of the same opinion. Sitting in the opposite corner she rolled her eyes at me in a suggestive manner while indicating the gentleman in a discreet manner with a jerk of her thumb.