Regency Masquerade (13 page)

“I
suppose you want me to sort the trunks out now?  Put me to all that trouble to
please that chit of a girl who is an adventuress if ever I saw one!  Bold as
brass, coming here like that.  Nothing of her mother in her at all.  She looked
like Henry you say?”

“There
is a very definite resemblance,” stated Mrs Pearson firmly, trying to halt her
employer from rushing into a position of denying Frances’ claim outright.  “She
has his nose and his chin, and the colour of her hair is just like Henry’s as a
boy.  I don’t think there can be any doubt who her father is.”

“Perhaps
not,” conceded Lady Murray still fighting, “but there’s nothing of
Amanda
in her, is there?”

“Well
no, not really,” agreed the nurse reluctantly, “although her eyes are the same
colour.  There was something about her voice, I fancied it reminded me rather
of someone... not Miss Amanda exactly but ... Miss Julia! That’s who!  Not the
accent of course but the same low pitch, don’t you think so my lady?”

“Nonsense!”
denied Lady Murray briskly, ignoring the jolt of familiarity Frances’ voice had
given her. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for the day.  Perhaps we will
look through those trunks another time, if the girl comes back.  Now she knows
she has to provide proof before she can claim the money she might give up.”

“You
can’t deny the child her birthright just because you’ve taken a dislike to
her,” came the rather stern reply.

“No,
no if she can prove she is Amanda’s child I will have to see what I can do for
her.  But if not, I tell you right now I will not lift a finger for Henry’s
bastard!” With those rather vindictive words hanging in the air, Lady Murray
rose and made her way up to her chamber.

Frances
returned to the Regent Hotel with her companion and was greeted by John,
bursting with curiosity about her excursion to Devonshire Street.

She
dismissed Madame Lebrun and then turned to her manservant with a question of
her own.  “How long were you with my father John?  When did you meet him?”

“In
Nice it was, just after your mother died.  Must be nigh on twenty years ago
now.  I’d got separated from the army in Spain and was working my way back to
England, when your father found me, working in a livery yard, and hired me on
the spot.”  Frances nodded, she had heard that part of the story before.

“What
was he calling himself then?  Can you remember?”

“James
Wentworth,” answered John promptly.

“Did
he ever go by the name of Metcalf?”

John
shook his head dubiously, “I don’t remember that one.  Why?”

Frances
grimaced wryly, “It is just that now it appears Metcalf was his real name!” 
She went on to describe the rest of her afternoon, while John stared in
amazement. “Her granddaughter!” he exclaimed, “Well I never!”

However,
he knew as well as she did the difficulty of proving her ancestry to a
solicitor.

“And
even if by any remote chance, my claim could be proved, as soon as she
discovers the way I have lived, Lady Murray would disown me utterly!” finished
Frances, throwing up her hands.  “The irony is, if I were a real adventuress
which I am, this would be a perfect opportunity for me to make as much money as
I could!  Except of course, if I had been going about this professionally, I
would have equipped myself with a better story than the one I have!”

John
had been frowning in hard concentration.  “I am not so sure about that Miss
Frances, after all you have told the truth so they won’t be able to disprove
what you have said.  A simple story is the best in any case. I think you have
the right of it.  If they do not accept you as the legitimate heir, you will
have to hold out for as big a settlement as you can, to withdraw your claim and
go away.”

She
stared at him in dismay.

“Well
what else can you do?  A thousand pounds, even five hundred, would set you up
nicely in France.  But it may not come to that,” he added bracingly.  “Could we
hire a solicitor of our own to make some enquiries?  Find out exactly when they
eloped.  If your mother was a gently bred girl like that I can’t see your
father travelling far without marrying her.  Chances are they were married in
England, before they left for France.”

“Yes,
I think you are right. I will consider it,” she promised. 

CHAPTER
TEN

Lord
Carleton did not enjoy the next two days. He felt restless as he finalised the
affairs he had set in motion and fretted over what Frances was up to in London.
He still felt too uncomfortable to face Squire Herbert yet, and he actively avoided
his company. Nor were things comfortable at home. Mrs Madden was very formal in
her dealings with him and kept out of his way as much as possible, he was
obviously still in her bad books.

His
cousin Theo’s return to Chatswood on his way home from York provided a welcome
reprieve from the awkward atmosphere, at least until he was drawn surreptitiously
aside by Mrs Madden.  Theo was several years older than his cousin Richard and
the proud father of a young family.  He had kept a patriarchal eye on Richard
over the years and had scarcely seen anything to cause him more than a moment’s
anxiety and he really could not believe what Mrs Madden had told him.  Richard
was a grown man and he hesitated to say something to put his back up but it was
too important a matter to let pass.  He decided to tackle him privately after
dinner.

It
did not take Carleton long to realise someone, most likely Maddy, had told his
cousin about Frances.  Theo kept looking sideways at him and lapsing into uneasy
silences, interspersed with forced conversation throughout the meal. Finally,
the port was brought in and Theo said self consciously, “Got something to talk
to you about, Richard.”

“Yes?”
queried his host invitingly.

“Not
here, privately.”

Carleton
raised an eyebrow and said smoothly, “By all means Theo.  Let us retire to the
study.”

Both
men seated themselves near the small fire and when Williams had carried in the
decanter, Carleton dismissed him and turned to his cousin, “Problems at home
Theo?” he asked politely.

“What?”
spluttered his harassed guest.  “Devil take it Richard!  You know perfectly
well what I need to talk to you about.  What’s this I hear from Maddy?  I could
scarce make head or tail of it!”

Carleton
stared at him expressionlessly and for a moment Theo thought he wasn’t going to
answer him.  “Maddy has been a great deal too busy!”

 “’Tis
only because she cares about you.  Come on Richard, don’t poker up on me, what
have you been up to?”  

Suddenly
Carleton sighed, “It sounds like a real Canterbury tale when I put it in words.
I invited a recent acquaintance, a friend even, to stay with me, who was
masquerading as a man but she was actually a woman, it took me some time to
find that out.”

Theo
looked at him in total disbelief.

Carleton
could not help laughing at the expression on his face.  “Don’t look at me like
that Theo, I am not a complete gudgeon.  She managed to fool Jack Lambert and
several other men of my acquaintance as well as me.  She is an excellent shot
with a pistol, and her sword fighting is not contemptible.”

Theo
realised he was gaping like a stuffed fish, “How did you meet?” he managed.

 “I
was being attacked by three men in the street and she saved me from losing my
purse if not my life.  She shot one of them in the arm.”  Theo did not like the
admiration he heard in Richards’ voice.

“You
don’t think it was..?” he paused delicately.

“A
scam?” answered Richard cheerfully.  “No, I did wonder of course, afterwards,
but I don’t see how it could have been.  It was only by merest chance that I
was in that street at all.”

“What
was she doing here?” asked Theo, then suddenly flushed red, “I mean-”

“No,”
interrupted Richard, “it was not like that.  As I said, she was here as a
friend, and that is all, nothing else Theo.”

His
cousin looked sceptical, “That’s as maybe Richard, but do you think anyone will
believe it?  Anyone else I mean?” he added hastily, seeing the frown forming on
Richards face.

“Well
I don’t intend to announce it to the world!  In any case,” he continued with
studied composure, “I offered to marry her.”

Theo
stared in such horror that Richard was torn between being deeply offended and
going off into whoops of laughter.

“You
don’t need to worry, she ran away rather than take up my offer,” he looked down
at his waistcoat and brushed off a crumb.  “More port? Or would you prefer
brandy?”

Theo
was speechless for a moment.  It looked as if it might be worse than he had
thought, Richard was obviously taken with the wench.  “Eh? Oh brandy thanks.”

“Will
you see her again?” he ventured. “Do you know who is she?”

“I
don’t know,” answered Carleton obscurely. “A relation of the Murrays I gather. 
She called herself Peter Francis when I met her.”  He took a sip of brandy. “I
am going back to London tomorrow.  Will you come with me or are you planning to
stay here a few more days?”

“I
will stay another day, my horses need the rest,” Theo replied reluctantly,
realising the subject was closed.  He wondered whether he should change his
plans and accompany Richard to keep an eye on him and make sure he did not do
anything foolish.

Lord
Carleton was up early the next morning, eager to be on his way and left
immediately after he had breakfasted and made his farewells to Theo,
forestalling any attempt to accompany him. 

The
day after he returned to London, Carleton took a hackney to the Pelican and
asked to see Peter Francis.  He was still unsure exactly what he was going to
say, but he was met with the news that Mr Francis had left two days ago.  No
there was no forwarding address although he had mentioned visiting a cousin in
Bath.  Carleton guessed correctly that this was a red herring and left the
Pelican to check if he had been seen at Manton’s pistol gallery.  He even
managed to run into Jack Lambert at his club but a casual enquiry revealed only
that Jack had not seen him since he had dropped him at the Pelican. It was gradually
dawning on him that he had no way of finding Frances if she didn’t want to be
found, she had no family in London and he didn’t even know whether she was
currently masquerading as a man or a woman.  He was reluctant to involve anyone
else in the search, even his man of business, but he was beginning to feel
desperate.  What if he never saw her again?

Lord
Carleton had never thought of himself as a conceited man, but it had occurred
to him, driving back to London and mulling over what he and Theo had discussed,
that perhaps he had been somewhat arrogant in presuming Frances would leap at
the chance to be his wife.    When he thought back, he realised had not
actually asked her to marry him, he had just announced his “betrothal” to the
Squire and assumed she would agree.   He cringed inwardly as he remembered the
virtuous glow he had felt, that he was doing the honourable thing, offering to
make an honest woman of her.  How patronising it must have seemed, especially
to someone as independent as Frances.  If only he could find her he would
apologise and see if he could start again, court her properly ... he faltered a
little at the image this conjured up, he couldn’t quite imagine Frances acting
as a demure young lady.  Did she know how to dance or would she take the lead? 
A reluctant smile curved his lips.

Then
he wondered if she had contacted Lady Murray yet.   It seemed a distinct
possibility in the light of their previous conversations about her, but he
could not think of an acceptable reason for approaching Lady Murray himself to
find out.  He was restricted in what enquiries he could safely make in person,
without bringing unwelcome attention on both of them.  If only he had a female
relative in London that he could trust to make a call on his behalf.

Lady
Murray had tried hard to put all thoughts of Frances out of her mind but with
no success.  She wondered audibly if “that girl” would visit them again at
least several times a day and eventually Mrs Pearson took the bull by the horns
and suggested they send an invitation to her at the Regent.  “Impossible!”
declared Lady Murray.  “We cannot be seen to acknowledge her.  At least not
until her claim is proven.”

“In
that case, I propose we bring Miss Julia’s trunks down from the attic and start
looking for any letters or papers that may be relevant.  It will be a good
opportunity to sort the contents out in any case,” advised Mrs Pearson.

Lady
Murray hemmed and hawed for another day, then conceded that perhaps it would be
best to get it over with.  She asked the footmen to bring a trunk down to the
parlour and Mrs Pearson was soon busy unpacking clothes and sorting them into
piles for sewing materials, hand-me-downs for the staff and a few costly pieces
to be carefully wrapped and stored safely back in the trunk. Mrs Pearson
faithfully described each article as she withdrew it and Lady Murray sat
silently at first and then started to reminisce about some of the more unusual
items. “I remember when Julia wore that gown to the Queens Drawing Room, she
was the most beautiful girl in the room.”