Deadly Peril (10 page)
“Not to hide. I came to London in disgrace,” the valet stated simply. “My father and brother know where I am. Trajan occasionally writes. Father does not. My sister has been forbidden from contacting me, though she does send the odd letter. Her husband is a well-respected advocate and can’t afford to have the likes of me for a brother-in-law. More so because I’m a valet, than what I did.”
“What you did…?”
Hadrian Jeffries gulped. He had walked into his own verbal trap, and by the way his lordship was regarding him, the only way out of it was to tell the truth.
“Those two years I spent in Utrecht, it was as valet to the son of a knighted advocate. He wasn’t particularly interested in study, and spent his time in more pleasurable pursuits, if you get my meaning.”
“I do.”
“To cut the story short: He cheated on an exam. He was given a second chance. With that second chance he sent me to sit the examination for him. I got for him a distinction, and that got him noticed by the examiners. He wasn’t up to passing an exam, least of all getting the best mark in the year! So the second cheat was discovered and he was thrown out of university in disgrace. For my efforts I was dismissed from his service. That’s when I came to London.”
“You did not consider studying for the bar yourself?” Alec asked. “You obviously have an aptitude for it.”
The valet took a moment to reply, and when he breathed in deeply then slowly exhaled into his fist, Alec got the impression Hadrian Jeffries had made up his mind to confide in him. So he remained suitably grave and prepared himself not to be surprised by anything the younger man told him.
“What I have, my lord, is a picture memory,” Hadrian Jeffries confessed flatly. “If I read something I want or need to remember, then I do. Word for word. If I see something I want to remember, then I can, as a picture in my mind’s eye, and relate all the details of that scene back to you as if I am once again in that room, or that setting. Marcia says it’s a gift from God. My father thinks I’m a freak. That’s how I managed to get that distinction on that paper. But I could no more get up and argue a point of law as fly! And an advocate is not what I ever wanted to be. You believe me, don’t you, about my picture memory?”
“Yes, I do. I suspected something of the sort when you never took the travel list with you when you went on errands to the various merchants. Nor did you have it on you when ferreting out my collapsible travel furniture up in the attic. It remained on my dressing table the entire time. That is, until you moved it. Perhaps after my uncle picked it up to peruse?” Alec smiled thinly. “Not that you forgot the list’s existence, but once you had committed the inventory to memory it was superfluous to your requirements, was it not?”
“Yes, sir. I did not see any reason to carry it about once I’d stored it in here,” he said with a tap at his temple.
“You will forgive me if I tell you I had Wantage double check the inventory as it was loaded onto the wagons.”
“It was all there, wasn’t it?” the valet asked, somewhat offended. “The two folding chairs, the collapsible camp bed, the
nécessaire de voyage
, travelling kettle, four bundles of beeswax candles, the three
billets doux
, ten sacks of coal, the four brass foot warmers—”
Alec put up a hand “Yes. Yes. All fifty-eight items—”
“Sixty-two. There are sixty-two items on that travel list. I trust Mr. Wantage didn’t miscount—”
“No. I’m certain the entire inventory is now on its way to Harwich, including the brass foot warmers and sacks of coal.” Alec smiled. “And I agree with your sister. Your extraordinary memory is a gift, and one that could come in useful—But we’ll discuss that later,” he added, rallying from thoughts of how he could best use such a skill while in Midanich. “What I need to talk about is your present position as my valet. Is your chosen employment something you want to do, or something you see as a temporary position until you find a more suitable vocation?”
“I’m not about to run off and be a-an apothecary or a-a physician or such, if that’s what worries you, sir,” Hadrian Jeffries stated with uncharacteristic harshness. “I’m no Tam Fisher!”
“No, you are not. Thomas Fisher is an apothecary, not a valet,” Alec replied calmly, ignoring the younger man’s derisiveness. “I will tell you now, so that you can rest easy, or you can make up your mind to do something other than remain in this house. When Tam returns from Somerset, it will not be as my valet, but as my ward. He will no longer be a member of the household but a member of the family. Do you foresee a problem with that, Mr. Jeffries?”
Hadrian Jeffries did not hesitate. “No, my lord. I do not.”
“Good. So tell me: What are your expectations for the future?”
“Expectations? Future?”
The valet blinked and hesitated. Not because he did not have an answer, but because no one had ever asked him, not even his father, who had assumed he would do as his elder brother had done before him, as had his grandfather and great uncle before that. But since his earliest memory, Hadrian Jeffries had only ever wanted an uncomplicated life, surrounded by wealth, privilege and beautiful things. But for one with his humble origins, such a life was the stuff of dreams. Yet, he dared to continue to dream until a solution presented itself. There was only one vocation for him—valet to a wealthy gentleman, preferably a nobleman. And once his mind was fixed, he went about achieving his dream. Never indolent, he spent years working his way up the servant ladder. So he was justly proud and entitled to expect nothing less than the position he was now in: Valet to a peer of the realm.
When Alec repeated his question, adding with a wry smile, “I am genuinely interested, Mr. Jeffries.” Hadrian Jeffries believed him and was eager to share his philosophy.
“My expectations have always been single-minded, sir: To serve. To excel at being a gentleman’s gentleman. That’s the simple answer. I like the work. I like the living. And I like the routine. If I may be so bold as to say that I do excel at anticipating my master’s wants and needs, and to seeing that other servants do the same. I like order. The maxim—everything has a place and there is a place for everything—is very true. And I enjoy what others consider mundane. I like the sorting, the putting away, and the taking care of well-tailored beautiful clothing. I enjoy shining shoes and buckles, and nothing gives me greater satisfaction than to know my master is well cared for and his fellows consider him well-dressed.” The valet gave Alec a quaint little nod and a smile. “I like being
your
valet in particular, my lord.”
“Good. I am just as pleased to have you as my valet, Jeffries,” Alec replied with a smile, and stood; the valet did likewise. “And so the post is yours for as long as you want it—”
“Thank you, my lord! Thank you. You won’t regret your decision!”
“But you may just regret yours,” Alec said with a laugh. “Routine it may be here in St. James’s Place, but when I travel it is anything but ordinary. Though…” he added with a sigh of regret. “This trip you won’t have the looking after of my hounds. Mazarin and Cromwell will remain here with Mr. Fisher.”
“You can be assured I’ll be vigilant in making certain order is maintained, sir; even more so in foreign climes. You need not worry about your household arrangements. And I am competent enough in a number of foreign tongues to be able to carry on a rudimentary conversation. At the very least, make myself understood.”
“Yes. So you can. That is a very useful skill to have. But,” Alec added on a sudden thought, “let’s keep your language skills between us for now. It may be to our advantage if it is thought you are ignorant of all but the English tongue. And best not to mention your exceptional memory, either. We’ll keep that between us, too. Does Wantage know?”
“No, my lord. I’ve not shared my—
ability
with anyone but you. It’s nobody’s business but mine—and now, yours.”
“Thank you for taking me into your confidence. I should warn you—though I am sure you have gathered as much from my conversations with Mr. Halsey—that we are setting sail for a dangerous place. With Midanich at war we are particularly vulnerable to both sides in the conflict. We’ll need to keep our wits about us.”
“Yes, sir. I understand. I am not easily daunted.”
Alec smiled. “I’m pleased we had this conversation, Hadrian.”
“As am I, my lord,” Hadrian Jeffries replied with a quaint little bow. He glanced at the timepiece on the mantel. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready for dinner now, my lord? It’s gone the hour…”
Alec mentally smiled at the use of the first person plural but said blandly, as he removed the little ring box from the middle drawer, “Yes, we should. We must not keep Mr. Halsey waiting. But before I do so, tell me: You looked inside this box, didn’t you?”
The valet blushed. “Yes, sir. I did.”
“Thank you for being truthful. Though I expect nothing less than the truth—always.”
“I only did so because I’d never seen the box amongst your things, sir, and so I wondered if it might belong to Mr. Halsey. But—”
“—he would not own, nor wear, such an ostentatious piece of jewelry, would he?” Alec interrupted, prising open the lid so his valet could take another look at the heavy gold ring on its bed of velvet—a carnelian intaglio armorial seal mounted on a thick gold band. “I want you to commit this coat of arms to memory, Hadrian. And when we are in Midanich, if this ring is not on my finger, you are to know where it is at all times, and to guard it with your life.”
Hadrian Jeffries took the little box and studied the carnelian intaglio, running a finger delicately over the design cut into the precious orange stone. He then closed the lid and handed it back to Alec with a nod. “Yes, sir. With my life. You can depend on me.”
“Thank you. And thank you for not asking me about it,” Alec said, leaving the box on the dressing table to shrug off his banyan. He picked up his linen stock off the back of the chair and stood before the long looking glass to tie it. “It is a long and involved story that does not bear repeating. But the significance of that ring will become immediately apparent once we step foot in the principality… Oh, and before I forget,” he added after a moment of staring at his reflection; Hadrian Jeffries suspected his master’s thoughts were miles away. “Would you be so good as to give Mr. Halsey that written reference? I’m sure he would like the opportunity to offer a reply to—to…?”
“Mr. Cale, sir. Mr. Joseph Cale. Chief Advocate recently retired. He was kind enough to write a letter of good character for me, when others would not. I suspect my sister—Marcia’s influence. She’s married to Mr. Cale’s son, and is on very good terms with her husband’s parents. Mr. Cale fairly dotes on her.”
Alec paused in the act of tying his stock. Joseph Cale. Now there was a name and a man he had not heard spoken of in his presence in almost a year. Salacious slander linked Cale forevermore with the Countess of Delvin, Alec’s mother. Cale was not only rumored to have been his mother’s lover but as a consequence of their torrid affair while she was newly married to the Earl of Delvin came the birth of a child. Alec was that child, and his Uncle Plantagenet believed Joseph Cale to be Alec’s true father. Alec did not believe it. He could not. He wanted nothing to do with Mr. Joseph Cale.
He made no comment, but it was obvious to Hadrian Jeffries in the way Alec roughly handled his stock that he was angry.
“Shall I fetch your frock, sir? I chose the midnight blue—”
“Whichever! It doesn’t matter!” Alec snapped, but was instantly repentant. “Sorry. Yes, of course the midnight blue coat will suit. Jeffries. A moment! There is one circumstance I did forget to mention.” When the valet turned at the door and waited, banyan now folded and over an arm, Alec felt awkwardly foolish. It was because thoughts of his mother’s affair and its consequences made him instantly and inexplicably think of Selina, and the consequences of their affair—that she had recently miscarried their child. He could not live through another such heartbreaking event, not unmarried. He needed to be at Selina’s side as her husband not her lover. Only as husband and wife could they openly support each other in their grief, as parents, and in good conscience. There was only one solution—well, there were two, but he did not want to live his life without Selina, and he could never live as a monk. So marriage it was, and the sooner the better.
Alec turned away from his reflection and lost his scowl.
“When I return from Midanich, I am getting married. That will bring its own set of unique requirements, not only for you as my valet, but to the rest of my household. I thought you should be the first to know. Please keep it to yourself until I have had a chance to speak with Mr. Wantage.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” Hadrian Jeffries made Alec a charming bow. “May I be the first to wish you joy, my lord.”
“You may, Hadrian. Thank you.”
As Alec watched his valet turn and almost skip into the dressing closet, his thoughts were full of Selina—where she was, what she was up to, and when he might see her next. Little could he have known that at that precise moment Selina Jamison-Lewis was just a street away in St. James’s Square, and she was not only thinking about him, she was discussing him with her aunt, the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots.
‘
H
E
’
LL
NEVER
AGREE
to it.” Selina was adamant.
“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t know about it, does he?” the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots countered loudly.
She was standing close to the other side of the tapestry dressing screen, in the hopes of being heard over the activity of the
corsetière
and her assistant who were assisting her niece with the fit of a pair of jumps—stays without buckram and which closed across the breasts with hook and eye.
“He won’t be poking his head into the carriage on the trip to Harwich, and once we’re on our way, there is little he can do about it. If I want my niece to accompany me, that’s that.”
There was a long silence punctuated by murmurings and the rustle of fabric, and then a yelp when the
corsetière
’s assistant unintentionally pricked Selina’s arm with her tacking needle. Selina could take no more fussing and so she shooed the three women aside and stepped out from behind the screen for a breath of air.
