The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales) (10 page)

And he will certainly do that, thought Grace as they began to stroll on again. Today she had hardly known him for the same man. With his cutaway coat that fitted without a crease across his shoulders, pale pantaloons, tasselled Hessians and a tall beaver hat set at a rakish angle on his head, he looked the epitome of a man of fashion. She had seen any number of them in town, but in her opinion none had looked quite so handsome. She was glad that in the transformation he had not allowed his barber to cut his thick dark hair into the famous Brutus crop, she liked the way it curled over his collar.

Grace quickly pulled herself up. What was she thinking? His appearance was nothing to her. Just as her new style of dress could mean nothing to him. She had objected strongly when Aunt Eliza had taken her to the fashionable modistes in Bond Street, but her aunt had been very persuasive, telling her that it was her duty to look her best.

‘A man wants to be proud of his wife, Grace. Soon you will no longer be the parson’s daughter, but Lady Braddenfield, a prominent member of the local society. Your neighbours will expect you to bring a little town bronze to Hindlesham. You must not disappoint them.’

To every argument Grace put forward her aunt had an answer and to her final protest, that Aunt Eliza should not be spending her own money on such finery for her niece, she had responded with a clincher.

‘And what else should I spend it on, pray? I give generously to charity and I am a great supporter of the Foundling Hospital, but it is not the same as having
family
. You will be doing me a kindness, my love. I have no children of my own to spend my money on, no one except Nelson, and there are only so many diamond-studded collars one can buy for a pug.’

Grace pulled on that diamond-studded collar now as she dragged her attention back to the reason she was walking here with Wolfgang Arrandale.

‘And how does your turning into a man of fashion affect me, sir?’

‘It doesn’t. At least, I needed to smarten myself up. A fashionable gentleman attracts little attention in Bond Street. From the servants at Arrandale I had learned that my wife’s dresser, Annie Meesden, bought a milliner’s shop there. She told them her uncle had died and left her some money. No one knew quite where the shop was and it took me a week to discover that she is no longer there. The shop failed within a year and Meesden was forced to find work again as a lady’s maid. Luckily the registry office that she approached keeps very good records and I was able to trace her to a house in Arlington Street, the home of an elderly widow, one Mrs Payne.

‘The problem is, Miss Duncombe, I have been unable to learn anything more. Mrs Payne’s staff are very tight-lipped. None of them will impart any information at all, either out of loyalty or for fear of losing their position. Short of keeping vigil outside the house in the hopes of seeing Meesden I am at a stand.’

‘Could you not write to this Mrs Payne, or ask your lawyer to do so?’ she suggested.

‘I did. I sent a letter, posing as Mr Peregrine, which received a terse reply to the effect that Mrs Payne does not correspond with unknown gentlemen and to approach her son, who deals with all her household affairs. I duly wrote to the fellow, only to receive a note from his secretary, saying he is on business in Scotland and will be out of town for several months.’

‘And this is why you require a lady of, er, unimpeachable reputation. To contact Mrs Payne.’

‘You have it precisely, ma’am.’

‘No doubt your acquaintance with such ladies is limited,’ she murmured.

‘Very limited,’ he replied frankly. ‘There is no one else in town I can trust with this task, saving yourself. Or your aunt.’

They walked on in silence while Grace considered everything he had told her. She could of course decline to help him. Aunt Eliza would be only too pleased to step into the breach, but her aunt was so garrulous who knew what she might let slip?

Do not make excuses, my girl, you want to do this. Admit it, you have had enough of shopping and paying visits to Aunt Eliza’s friends. You want a little adventure before you settle down.

Grace ignored the demon who whispered such scurrilous things in her ear. It was her duty to assist a fellow creature in need. Papa would understand, he would never refuse a plea for help. Neither should she.

‘So, Miss Duncombe. Will you help me?’

‘I will, sir.’ She looked across the square. ‘I think that is my aunt’s carriage at the door now, which is excellent timing, for we have completed two full circuits of the gardens, sufficient exercise for Nelson, and we may now return to the house. Will you come in and take tea with us? Then you may tell me all I need to know.’

* * *

Grace went to Arlington Street the following afternoon, but her call proved fruitless. In her efforts to look as respectable as possible Grace took her maid with her, but even this did not help. The old lady was every bit as irascible and uncooperative as Wolf had led her to believe and after less than ten minutes Grace found herself being shown to the door. As she paused in the hall to collect her muff and umbrella from her maid, the tomb-like silence was shattered by a series of yaps and a lively little brown-and-white spaniel dashed up to Grace and began to fawn about her.

‘Lottie, Lottie, come here, you
naughty
dog!’

A flustered maid appeared, saying breathlessly, ‘I am ever so sorry, ma’am. She’s ready for her walk, you see, and that always makes her so lively that she can’t help herself.’

‘That is no trouble at all,’ said Grace, stooping to fondle Lottie’s ears. ‘I am sorry if my visit to your mistress has delayed their walk.’

‘Oh, no, ma’am, I always takes Lottie out.’ The maid tucked a grey curl back under her cap and bent to scoop up the little dog.

‘You are very fortunate to have the park so conveniently close,’ said Grace, smiling.

‘Oh, yes, ma’am, that we are. I takes Lottie there twice a day. Every morning, afore breakfast and then again about now, so she will sit quiet with the mistress for an hour afore dinner.’ With a bob of a curtsy the maid retreated to the nether regions of the house and Grace made her way back to Hans Place. Her aunt pounced on her almost as soon as she walked through the door.

‘Well, have you found Meesden?’

‘No. All I could discover was that Meesden left Mrs Payne’s service two years ago. More than that the lady would not say.’

‘Oh, that is annoying,’ exclaimed Aunt Eliza. ‘I was hoping we would be able to further Mr Wolfgang’s investigations. He will be so disappointed to find we have learned nothing.’

‘But all is not yet lost,’ said Grace. ‘I am not prepared to give up yet. Tomorrow I shall take Nelson walking in Green Park!’

* * *

Early the following morning Grace lifted the little pug from Aunt Eliza’s carriage when it drew up at the edge of the park. She had no idea what time Mrs Payne took breakfast and in preparation for a long vigil she had put a thick cloak over her redingote to keep out the cold and the threatened showers. Nelson was also wearing a woollen coat. Grace thought it made him look like a cushion on legs, but her aunt had insisted that May had not yet begun and Nelson, too, should be protected from the inclement weather.

They were strolling along the Queen’s Walk for the second time when Grace saw a small figure in a red flannel cloak emerge from a gate in the wall just ahead, and she had a little brown-and-white spaniel with her.

Fortune favoured Grace, for the maid was walking towards her. Despite Nelson’s new exercise regime, she knew that if her quarry had been heading away from them the pug’s short legs would never have been able to catch up. Nelson was showing little interest in his surroundings, but the spaniel was very inquisitive and as they drew closer she made prancing overtures towards the pug. Grace feigned a start of surprise and stopped squarely before the maid, blocking the path.

‘Oh, surely that is Mrs Payne’s little dog. Lottie, is it not?’

‘Why, yes, ma’am.’

The maid bobbed a polite curtsy and Grace turned and fell into step beside her, saying with a little laugh, ‘How strange that we should meet again so soon. Do you mind if I walk with you? Poor Nelson would be glad of the company, I am sure.’

‘Poor Nelson’ was doing his best to ignore the spaniel’s friendly overtures, but the maid was clearly dazzled by the pug’s sparkling collar and could not deny any request his owner might make.

Grace marvelled as she listened to herself chattering on, drawing the maid out by degrees, until she admitted that she had been in Mrs Payne’s service for nigh on twenty years.

‘Indeed? Then you must be a very loyal and trusted servant,’ said Grace. ‘Your mistress is fortunate to have you.’ She dropped her voice a little. ‘In fact, you may be able to help me. You see, the reason I called upon Mrs Payne yesterday was to learn information about her lady’s maid. Mrs Meesden.’

‘Annie Meesden? Why she’s been gone from this house these two years or more.’ The maid clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Not that the mistress likes us to talk about these things.’

‘I quite understand,’ Grace responded smoothly. ‘However, Mrs Meesden has applied to me for a position. Mrs Payne made it quite clear to me that all such matters are dealt with by her son, but you see, my dresser has given notice very suddenly and I am
desperate
to replace her. Mrs Meesden seems quite perfect for the role, but she has no references and I should so like to hear some good word of the woman, before I take her into my household.’

The maid had her lips firmly shut and Grace gave a little sigh.

‘Your mistress is quite right to insist that you do not give away any secrets, so I will not ask you to say anything. But I am sure you understand my anxiety. Being unmarried and alone I am very anxious to avoid taking on someone who may prove unreliable.’ She then turned the subject, talking about such innocuous topics as the weather and the trials of running a house in town.

Goodness, Grace Duncombe, you sound very much like a lonely spinster, desperate for company!

She finally ran out of words and fell silent. Nelson and Lottie chose that moment to move to one side of the path to investigate some interesting smells at the base of a tree. Grace and the maid both stopped and after a moment the maid let out a hiss of breath, as if she had been searching her conscience and had come to a decision.

‘I don’t see what harm it can do for me to tell you, ma’am,’ she burst out. ‘Mrs Meesden was turned off, you see. That’s why she has no reference from Arlington Street. Rude to Mr Payne, she was, and although the mistress said she was an excellent dresser, she couldn’t allow insolence towards her son.’

‘No, I should think not,’ said Grace, shaking her head. ‘Very bad indeed.’

‘Well, from what I heard in the servants’ hall afterwards, it wasn’t the first time she’d been turned off. And she was never married, neither, even though she called herself “Mrs”.’ The maid was in full flow now and Grace let her talk, she would sift out the important points later. ‘Seems she couldn’t abide men. Well, that’s understandable.’ The maid sniffed. ‘Being in service can be hard for a woman, ma’am. Some of the tales I’ve heard would make your hair stand on end and that’s the truth. Not that there’s anything of that sort at Mrs Payne’s house, which is why I’ve stayed so long. She’s a strict mistress and she don’t allow no goings on.’

‘I am very glad to hear it,’ Grace said warmly. As they began to stroll on again she said casually, ‘Do you know what became of Mrs Meesden?’

The maid shook her head.

‘Bad business, ma’am. I heard she couldn’t get another position and is now taking in sewing.’

‘Oh, the poor creature,’ exclaimed Grace, thinking how far the woman had fallen since being lady’s maid at Arrandale. She said, in perfect sincerity, ‘I do hope her fortunes can be improved.’

‘Ah well, ma’am, p’raps they can be, if you was to take her on, you not having a gentleman in the house for her to take against.’

‘Where is she living now, do you know?

‘That I don’t, ma’am, but Mrs Payne must know, because she sometimes sends gowns to her for mending.’

‘That is very charitable.’

The maid gave a snort. ‘Not her! It’s more that Meesden’s the best needlewoman she’s ever known. The mistress ain’t the charitable sort, for all she’s patron of the Foundling Hospital. The Lord helps them as helps themselves, she says.’ She looked up guiltily. ‘You won’t tell the mistress I told you any o’ this, will you, ma’am?’

‘No, of course not,’ replied Grace. They had reached the southern end of the Queen’s Walk and she could see her aunt’s carriage in the distance.

‘Thank you for the information, you have been most helpful.’

The maid was gazing round-eyed at the silver coin Grace had pressed into her hand. ‘Ooh, ma’am, I shouldn’t—’

‘Nonsense, that is for allowing Nelson to have Lottie’s company on his morning walk, nothing more,’ said Grace, thankful that the two animals were actually walking together quite amicably.

‘Yes, yes, of course.’ The maid nodded. She added ingenuously, ‘But I shan’t tell anyone who gave it to me, ma’am.’

‘No, that might be best,’ said Grace, stifling her conscience. ‘You could merely say a lady pressed it upon you, when you gave her directions.’

With another friendly smile Grace scooped Nelson into her arms and set off briskly for the waiting carriage, pleased with her morning’s work.

Chapter Seven

W
olf left the premises of Baylis & Thistle and paused on the flagway to pull on his gloves. There was a chill wind blowing and he decided to walk back to town rather than take a cab. The exercise would warm him up after sitting in his lawyer’s cold offices for so long. It was not only the building that was cold, he thought grimly, the lawyer’s greeting was only marginally warmer than at his first visit two weeks earlier. He knew he should expect nothing else. After all, both the original partners were long dead and young Mr Baylis knew him only as a fugitive from justice. However, the fellow had drawn up the power of attorney as instructed and it was signed now, so whatever happened to him, his brother would be able to administer the estate. He must write to Richard and tell him.

He tensed when he saw a fashionably dressed gentleman approaching. There was no mistaking Sir Charles Urmston, his dead wife’s cousin. Wolf cursed under his breath. There was no point in turning away, Urmston had seen him. The man’s start of surprise was followed very quickly by a delighted smile.

‘My dear sir, I had no idea you were back in England.’

Wolf had no option but to stop.

He said coolly, ‘It is not generally known.’

‘Ah, quite, quite.’ Urmston’s smile disappeared and he shook his head. ‘Bad business, very bad business. Poor Florence.’

Wolf would have walked on, but Urmston put up his hand.

‘Pray, sir, do not think I ever blamed you for her death.’ Wolf could not hide his look of disbelief and Urmston hurried on. ‘Good heavens, no. I admit it was a shock, when I first saw you leaning over her, but I think I know you better than that! But we cannot part again without some discussion.’ He turned and slipped his arm through Wolf’s. ‘Let us drink coffee together.’

Wolf fought down the instinct to pull free. He had never liked Urmston, but the man might have some useful information and he had learned precious little so far. Urmston suggested a nearby coffee house. Wolf would have preferred them to be a little further away from the city, for the place was full of clerks and lawyers, but at least there was little chance of anyone recognising him here.

They found an empty table and Urmston ordered coffee before sitting down opposite Wolf.

‘So, my friend, what brings you back to England?’

Urmston’s florid countenance showed only a look of innocent enquiry, but Wolf was cautious.

‘I needed to see my lawyer.’

‘About what?’ When Wolf did not reply Urmston sat back, spreading his hands. ‘Surely you know you can trust me, my friend.’

‘Can I? You were damned eager to hustle me out of the country.’

‘No, no, that was your father’s doing, I assure you. He thought if you remained you might be clapped up. He was adamant about it and it seemed a sensible idea, to get you out of the way until things calmed down.’

‘The consequence of which is that everyone thinks I am guilty,’ retorted Wolf.

Urmston shook his head. ‘If it had not been for the diamonds going missing at the same time...’

‘I did not take them.’

‘No, I believe you,’ muttered Urmston, chewing his lip. ‘I think Florence’s dresser took them.’

‘But she was devoted to her mistress.’ Too devoted, thought Wolf. He had caught her out on more than one occasion lying to protect Florence.

‘Have you seen Annie Meesden?’ enquired Urmston, staring into his coffee cup. ‘Have you spoken to her?’

Wolf had lived by his wits for the past ten years and they were screaming at him now not to trust this man. He answered one question with another.

‘Do you know where I might find her?’

Urmston shook his head. ‘No, she has given me the slip.’

‘Then you
have
been looking for her.’

For the merest instant Urmston looked uncomfortable, as if Wolf had caught him out. Then he was smiling again.

‘Naturally, at the beginning. I would have done anything to prove your innocence.’

Lies, thought Wolf. Urmston would not go out of his way for anyone but himself. If he wanted anything it was the necklace.

Wolf took another sip of his coffee. ‘What can you tell me about the night Florence died?’

‘Why, nothing,’ said Urmston. ‘I was out on the terrace and came in only when I heard your mother shrieking. I rushed into the hall and there you were, crouched over Florence’s body.’

‘And you thought I had killed her.’

‘Never!’

Wolf looked at him steadily. ‘You said I had allowed my temper to get the better of me.’

‘Did I? I was upset. Upon reflection I realised you were innocent.’

‘And the reward for my capture?’

‘That was Sawston’s doing. If I had gone to see him immediately I might have prevented that, but I had business in Newmarket. By the time I returned to Arrandale a week later, my uncle had offered a reward for your capture.’ Urmston leaned forward, saying in an urgent under-voice, ‘Trust me, Arrandale, I only want to help you. If there is anything I can do, you only have to ask it.’

‘Thank you.’

Wolf rose, but his companion put a hand on his arm.

‘At least tell me where you are staying!’

Wolf looked down at him.

‘If you need to contact me, a message for Mr Peregrine at the Running Man in Bench Lane will reach me.’

With that he turned on his heel and walked out.

* * *

Wolf went quickly back to his lodgings, packed up his bags and paid his shot. He was taking no chances, he did not believe that Urmston had
just happened
to bump into him. He hailed a cab, then another to take him across town, making sure he was not followed before he set about finding himself fresh rooms. By the time he had secured new lodgings in Half Moon Street the day was well advanced. He remembered Mrs Graham’s invitation to call and take pot luck at any time and he decided to do that. After all, he needed to see Grace, to find out if she had been able to discover anything about Annie Meesden. Not just need, he admitted. He wanted to see her.

* * *

His welcome at Hans Place was as warm as ever. Mrs Graham ordered another place to be laid at the dinner table and invited him to sit down and take a glass of wine.

‘Grace is still in her room, but I expect her any moment.’

Wolf nodded and studied his wine rather than face the twinkle in his hostess’s eye. He felt a spurt of irritation. The lady knew what he was; she could not possibly condone any connection between him and her niece. Even if everything went his way and it was proven that he was neither a thief nor a murderer, he was no match for Grace Duncombe. She was too good, too sweet.

She came into the room at that moment and the sight of her in a simple cream dress with her golden hair glowing like a halo about her head confirmed his thoughts. She was virtue incarnate. He rose and braced himself to greet her. Confound it, why could she not remain by the door and give him a cool and distant nod? But it seemed any reservations she had about him had been swept away. She was positively glowing with excitement and came forward, holding out her hand to him as if they were the best of friends.

‘Good evening, sir.’ Her soft musical voice had an added note, as if it incorporated her smile. ‘Has my aunt told you about my visit to Mrs Payne?’

He kissed her fingers with punctilious politeness, but for the life of him he could not let her go. Instead he held on to her hand as he raised his head and looked at her. There was a faint blush on her cheek, but it could not be because of him. Rather, it was because she was happy. It radiated from her. With an effort he released her and moved away.

‘She has told me nothing, so you had best sit down and do so.’

He had not intended to be so curt, but the sunshine in her smile was destroying the armour he had put around his heart. Desperately he tried to shore it up. He could not afford distractions and Grace Duncombe was most definitely a distraction. She sank down on to a sofa and folded her hands in her lap, apparently not offended by his abrupt manners.

‘It was not very successful,’ she admitted. ‘When I called upon the lady yesterday she told me very much the same as she had written to you, that I should talk to her son and not bother her with matters of staff. However, I managed to speak to one of the housemaids.’

‘Grace took Nelson to Green Park where a maid walks Mrs Payne’s lapdog every morning,’ put in Mrs Graham. ‘Once the dogs were acquainted the maid could hardly avoid speaking to her. Was that not ingenious?’

‘It was, if it persuaded the maid to talk to you.’

‘It did.’ Grace sat forward, her eyes shining. ‘She told me the dresser was turned off two years ago, but Mrs Payne still sends sewing work out to her.’

‘And you have her direction?’

Grace shook her head. ‘Not yet, but I feel sure we will have it very soon.’

‘How so?’ Wolf frowned, trying not to think how alluring Grace looked with that gentle smile and her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Mrs Graham gave a little tut. ‘Pray do not keep poor Mr Wolfgang in suspense, my love.’ She turned to him. ‘There is a ball tomorrow night to raise funds for the Foundling Hospital and since Mrs Payne is a patron, I feel sure she will attend. I had been disinclined to go. These affairs are always the same, no matter how many donations one has made in the past one feels obliged to pledge more. However, it will be a perfect opportunity to talk to Mrs Payne, so I have purchased tickets for us to attend.’

‘How fortunate that you insisted I buy a new ball gown, Aunt!’

Grace’s light-hearted laugh caught Wolf off guard. It hit him like a wave, battering against him, breaking down the last of his defences. Something in her was calling to him, like a kindred spirit. A companion in adversity.

‘You are enjoying this,’ he said.

It was more of an accusation than a statement, but she merely lifted her shoulders and let them fall again.

‘I confess it is a little more exciting than the life I have been used to.’

He frowned. ‘I would not have you put yourself in danger.’

Again that merry laugh, clear and bright as a bell.

‘What danger can there be in attending a ball? Unless I trip and sprain my ankle.’

Dinner was announced and they said no more on the subject, but the change in Grace fascinated Wolf. A few weeks in her aunt’s house had transformed her. It was not merely that she had left off the soft greys she had worn at the vicarage and was dressed more fashionably, she looked more alive, her eyes sparkled, her generous mouth had an upward tilt, as if a laugh was never far away, and her light gold hair was piled loosely about her head with the odd little curl escaping to rest like a kiss upon her neck. He imagined that if he pulled just one pin from those heavy tresses they would cascade over her shoulders like a waterfall.

It was a beguiling image and it stayed with Wolf throughout dinner. Grace at her dressing table, dragging a brush through those golden locks. Grace undressed.

Grace undone.

His fork clattered on to the plate and he muttered an apology. He signalled to the hovering waiter that he might remove the dishes. Thank heaven there was only the dessert course to endure, then the ladies would retire and leave him in peace for a while. He was uneasy in polite society. He had forgotten how to behave.

* * *

Sitting in solitary state and enjoying brandy from Mrs Graham’s excellent cellar, Wolf calculated how long he would have to remain before he could leave without giving offence. Ten minutes, would do it, he thought. Long enough to thank his hostess for her hospitality. But when he returned to the drawing room he found himself wrapped in a cocoon of domestic comfort. The fire was blazing cheerfully, candles cast a golden glow over the room and the two ladies were at their ease, Mrs Graham flicking through a copy of the
Ladies’ Magazine
and Grace with an embroidery frame in her hand.

Mrs Graham put aside her magazine to make him welcome. She ushered him to a chair by the fire, sat down opposite and proceeded to talk to him about Arrandale as she remembered it. Wolf answered her politely, but only half his mind was on the subject. From his seat he had a good view of Grace, who continued to set neat stitches in her embroidery, joining in very little with conversation. Even when her aunt left the room she did not look up from her work. He watched her in silence for a while.

‘The last time we met I said you had changed,’ he remarked. ‘Now you are different again.’

The needle hovered about the cloth.

‘My aunt is giving me what she calls a little town bronze.’

‘That is not it. You are more at ease in my company. Why is that?’ She began to ply her needle again, but Wolf could not let it go. ‘Do you, can I hope you no longer think me guilty?’

She bent her head even lower over her embroidery.

‘My father and aunt are convinced you are not guilty, so I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.’

She answered very quietly, but her words lifted a weight from Wolf’s shoulders. A weight he had not been conscious of until now. When had her opinion become so important to him? She picked up a pair of silver scissors to cut her thread, then began to pack away her sewing.

‘That is the only reason I am helping you to find Mrs Meesden.’

‘Admit it, you are enjoying yourself.’

‘There is a certain satisfaction in it.’ He saw the faint but unmistakable upward curve of her mouth. Her eyes lifted to his, but only for a moment. ‘It is part of my holiday, before I go home. To my fiancé.’

‘And will you tell Sir Loftus what you have been doing in London?’

She raised her head at that.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I shall tell him everything.’

* * *

Grace had replied with a touch of hauteur but later, when Wolfgang had gone and she had retired to her bed, she admitted to herself that it was not true. She could not tell Loftus quite everything. Not the way her pulse jumped whenever she saw Wolfgang, nor how the days seemed to drag when he was not with her. She certainly could not tell Loftus about the inordinate rush of happiness she had felt when she learned Wolf was to take dinner with them that evening. And certainly not the trembling excitement she felt whenever he looked at her.