Sovay (7 page)

CHAPTER
8

G
abriel went with Fitzwilliam to the set of rooms he kept in Hanover Square.

‘It’s a bit rough and ready but it suits an old bachelor like me.’ He laughed and his pale hazel eyes flashed amusement. ‘My man can do for both of us. ‘Rufus!’ he called as he mounted the stairs. ‘Rufus!’

The room that they entered had high ceilings and was elegantly furnished with pale green moiré silk on the walls and a deep red Turkey carpet on the floor. Large windows looked down over the square. A leather-topped writing table stood in front of one of the windows with a mahogany bureau next to it. One wall was covered by tall, glass-fronted bookcases.

‘This is the drawing room and library. I like having everything near.’

‘Mr Fitzwillam, sir. We wasn’t expecting you.’ A narrow-faced youth with a spattering of dark freckles and close-cropped rusty red hair appeared at the door.

‘Well,’ Fitzwilliam removed his gloves, ‘we are here now. I have a friend with me, Mr Gabriel Stanhope. Take our travelling clothes and bring us some wine, would you? And have our rooms made ready. Put Mr Stanhope in Henry’s room. I would like a bath and I’m sure Mr Stanhope would, too. Then something to eat. Send round to the chophouse for steaks and grilled bones. Don’t stand there gawping. Off you go!’ Rufus scurried off, repeating the orders to himself, just so he did not get them the wrong way round.

‘He’s young, but willing. He’ll come. I don’t have need of him in college and I fear he grows lazy here in town.’ Fitzwilliam yawned and put his hands to the small of his back to ease the ache there. ‘You were right to ride. Those coaches are devilish uncomfortable.’

Rufus returned with two glasses and a decanter of wine on a butler’s tray. Fitzwilliam thanked him and, handing a glass to Gabriel, he raised his own in a toast.

‘Here’s to our enterprise. May we have success in the search. Do sit down. Make yourself at home.’

He indicated a pair of walnut armchairs, upholstered in grey silk, which stood on either side of the hearth. Gabriel perched nervously, fearing to test the thinness of the legs with his weight. Fitzwilliam drank his wine.

‘We will make ourselves human again after that beastly journey, then we’ll go to Soho. Visit the house, see if there is any news and call on Miss Sovay. She must be there by now.’

Gabriel inclined his head. He did not like to disagree with his host but somehow he doubted it.

Gabriel was wrong. Miss Sovay was in residence. She had not arrived dressed as a man but the clothes she had been wearing, although female, had Mrs Crombie’s eyebrows shooting towards the ceiling. She had got past awkward questions about that by tales of having been waylaid and having to borrow clothes after an accident on the road. She ignored Mrs Crombie’s curiosity about what kind of person might have lent her such outlandish attire.

Mrs Crombie had not seen the master for a week or more.

‘He didn’t stay over a day or two.’

‘Did he say anything about where he was going?’

‘Called away. “Urgent business” was all he said.’

‘No more than that?’

‘I’m not privy to his private plans, Miss Sovay,’ Mrs Crombie answered, masking her concern with a certain asperity. ‘He does not confide in me. I thought he had returned to Compton.’ She relented a little. ‘No sign of him, you say?’

Sovay shook her head.

‘Then perhaps he’s gone visiting.’ Mrs Crombie brightened and folded her arms over her ample bosom. ‘Yes, that’ll be the way of it. The master is a great one for visiting. He has friends all over the place. He might have gone to see one of them.’

‘Yes,’ Sovay agreed. The sinking in her heart told her that it was unlikely, but there was no need to worry Mrs Crombie further. ‘He might.’

‘There we are, then! Now let’s get you out of those dreadful clothes!’

Mrs Crombie was only ever seen in black, out of respect for her deceased husband, although he had passed on so long ago that Hugh doubted his very existence and declared that the housekeeper had come into the world a Mrs. That aside, she had a good eye for fashions and knew exactly what should be worn by whom and under what circumstances.

‘I’ve never seen the like, not outside a theatre, not that I’ve ever been into one of those establishments. I don’t know what kind of
lady
lent them, I’m sure,’ she remarked, still piqued by Sovay’s reticence and determined to have the last word on the matter. ‘Now, up you go. It’s a good thing Lydia has arrived with your proper things.’ Mrs Crombie shooed Sovay towards the stairs. She had worked at Compton before moving to supervise the London residence and had a tendency to treat Sovay as though she was still the child she remembered from her time at the other house. As for that chit Lydia, when Mrs Crombie left Compton, she had been a cheeky little scullion, lax in her duties and inclined to be slovenly. How she had ever risen to the heights of lady’s maid was beyond reckoning. ‘She should have drawn your bath by now and tell her to do something about your hair!’

By the time Gabriel and Fitzwilliam presented themselves, Sovay had bathed, changed, had her hair dressed by Lydia and was ready to receive visitors.

The two young men were shown into the drawing room. Gabriel had never visited the London house before, never having had the occasion to come here. The house was older than Fitzwilliam’s residence, the rooms smaller and more crowded with furniture, but he did not feel so out of place here. He liked it better.

Sovay made every show of surprise at seeing him now, but did not have to feign her astonishment when she saw his companion.

‘Mr Fitzwilliam. How nice to see you. To what do I owe this honour?’

‘Miss Sovay.’ He took her proffered hand, smiling up as he kissed it. He was adept at flirting. ‘The honour is mine and I would like to say the pleasure is meeting you again, but I’m afraid we come on graver business.’

‘Grave? How so?’ Sovay withdrew her hand from his. ‘What is the matter?’ She turned to Gabriel. ‘What has happened?’

Gabriel looked uncomfortable. Although Sovay appeared every inch a lady and harmless as a dove, he could not rid himself of the image of her spurring her horse on a violent course, while dressed as a highwayman. Sovay turned away from his troubled gaze. She always knew what he was thinking.

‘It’s Hugh,’ Gabriel said eventually. ‘I went to Oxford, to his college. He’s been sent down.’

‘Sent down?’ Sovay frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Asked to leave the University,’ Fitzwilliam explained.

‘For Heaven’s sake, why?’

Fitzwilliam told her the reason. ‘I thought he was safe at Compton,’ he added. ‘But Gabriel says not.’

‘We’ve not seen him since Christmas. Father missing. Now Hugh . . .’ Sovay shook her head.

‘Sir John is not here?’

‘No,’ Sovay replied. ‘He hasn’t been seen for over a week. Where can they be?’

‘That’s the problem,’ Gabriel said. ‘It may be even worse . . .’

‘Worse?’ Sovay stared at him. ‘How could it be worse?’

Gabriel’s discomfort grew. He looked to Fitzwilliam for help.

‘Hugh may have gone to France, to Paris, to join in the Revolution.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Not certain.’ Fitzwilliam shrugged. ‘But he did mention his intention on more than one occasion.’

‘Do you think Papa may have gone after him?’ Sovay looked from Fitzwilliam to Gabriel.

‘It’s possible,’ Gabriel replied, ‘if he thought Hugh was in danger. He might have gone to fetch him back.’ ‘We don’t know that,’ Fitzwilliam interrupted. ‘First we must seek for word of him in London. Among his contacts here, people he might have met.’

‘But if he has gone to France . . .’ Gabriel gave a despairing shake of the head. If Sir John had followed his son to Hades, the idea could hardly have been less shocking.

‘If that is the case, then we will go there.’ Sovay began to pace the room. ‘Follow them.’

She would do it, too. Gabriel stared at her, despair giving way to resignation. He remembered how he’d seen her, not six hours earlier. Nothing she said or did now could surprise him.

‘A brave sentiment, Miss Sovay.’ Fitzwilliam gave a slight bow. ‘I commend you for it, but such an action might not be possible. France is in a most dangerous condition. We would be arrested as soon as we landed and tried as spies.’

‘If that is the case, what about Hugh? Or Papa?’

‘If Hugh went at Christmas, conditions then were slightly less dangerous. Besides, his French is fluent. He could pass as a native. I doubt that the same could be said of us.’

‘M Fernand was my tutor, too,’ Sovay objected. ‘I have some French.’

Her father had insisted on the two children being taught together, but Sovay had been very much younger. She had mastered more than basic vocabulary and grammar but her conversational powers were rather limited.

‘But you did not spend a year travelling with him in France,’ Fitzwilliam smiled, taken by her spirit. ‘Switzerland, Italy, other places. Fernand is, or was, a man of some influence within the Revolution. He might be in a position to protect Hugh, although such things change day by day.’

‘But what about my father?’

‘We do not know even that he is there.’ Fitzwilliam moved to calm her. ‘If he is, he may come under Fernand’s protection.’

‘In the past, he certainly had many correspondents in France. Mr Paine, others, too. Oh, but now I recollect, Mr Paine was arrested –’ Sovay stopped her pacing, fully alert now to the dangers that might be threatening her father. ‘What are we to do?’

‘It’s like Mr Fitzwilliam says.’ Gabriel spoke, as much to reassure himself as Sovay. ‘We don’t even know if he is there. Would it not be best to make inquiries in London before we start jumping to conclusions?’

‘Yes.’ Sovay commenced pacing again. ‘That would be sensible. The sensible thing to do.’ She turned to the two of them. ‘I trust that I can rely on your help in this?’

‘Of course!’ They both spoke at once.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘For if you will not agree, I will do it myself.’

That bold statement seemed to bring the conversation to a close. Fitzwilliam began to make his farewells, but Gabriel interrupted.

‘Before we go, could I have a word, Miss Sovay?’ He glanced towards Fitzwilliam. ‘On an estate matter.’

‘Of course,’ Fitzwilliam smiled and took the hint. ‘Do carry on.’ He glanced around. ‘You have some fine paintings that I would like to examine more closely.’

He strolled off to look at a handsome Dutch interior as Sovay opened a connecting door into her father’s study.

The room was a smaller version of Sir John’s library at home, the walls lined with books and cabinets. A terrestrial globe and a spherical astrolabe flanked a desk scattered with slides and piled with books and papers. It was as though Sir John had just got up and left to look for a book in another room. A portable microscope stood next to the inkstand. It was typical of the man. Gabriel felt a deep pang of fear for his master and hoped that no harm had come to him.

Outside the room, Fitzwilliam ceased to be interested in the Dutch Master and drifted to the study door, which did not quite shut flush to the panelling. He listened out of pure curiosity at first, but what he heard pricked his interest.

‘It won’t happen again,’ Sovay said.

‘I hope not. It’s madness, Sovay.’

‘I was caught on the road –’ Sovay broke off what she was about to say. ‘I do not have to justify myself to you.’

‘What were you doing with him? Who is he?’

‘What does it matter?’

‘I want to know. Since your father and brother are absent, I am here –’ Gabriel began.

‘To take over charge of me? I think not, Gabriel!’

‘To protect you, I was going to say, but perhaps you prefer the protection of that scoundrel.’

‘His name is Captain Greenwood.’

‘Captain?’ Gabriel snorted. ‘Every villain of a highwayman calls himself Captain.’

‘Plain Jake Greenwood, then, if it is at all relevant. And as I will never see him again, then I think it is not.’

‘Let us not quarrel. You do need my help. You must admit that.’

‘Yes,’ Sovay sighed, some of the fight gone out of her. ‘The wallet I took. I would like you to look over the contents with me. The papers there may hold clues as to where to find Papa.’