Bath Belles Page 12

  “Why do you look like that? Did you go to Fleury Lane, too?”

  “I did, but, like Eliot, I found nothing to report. I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on Eliot. You know where to lay the blame.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye with a quizzical expression.

  “Shall we go back up now?”

  “We had better, before I do something you will dislike.”

  I turned and took a step away. His fingers gripped my arm and brought me to a stop. My heart began pounding, and I knew—thought I knew—what he was about. He turned me around and looked at me for a long, silent moment in the flickering candlelight. Then he smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kiss you. Not now.”

  What a contrary man he was! He laughed lightly and picked up the candle, and we returned to the saloon. Duke was behaving with perfect propriety, though Mama, the peagoose, had left the two youngsters unattended.

  Esther had wound him around her thumb. “Duke says he’ll take us all to the Haymarket as soon as we get our gowns. They should be ready tomorrow. Can we go tomorrow night, Belle?”

  “Why are you asking me? You must ask Mama,”

  “You know she won’t let us go if you don’t allow it.”

  “Who exactly comprises this party, Mr. Duke?” I inquired stiffly.

  Duke had obviously given no thought to the matter. “Esther, me, you, of course ...”

  “You feel up to escorting three ladies, do you, Duke?” Desmond asked, but his quick glance in my direction hinted at the one he might hesitate to tackle.

  “I thought maybe you ... Uncle Charles ... Dash it, there are six seats in the box. We might as well fill them all up, as we’ll be paying for them.”

  “I accept,” Des said, “but does Miss Haley accept the inclusion of Mr. Stone in the party?”

  I was nearly as eager for the trip as Esther, and it seemed hard to deny Mama her flirt when Esther and I were secure of ours. Three pairs of hopeful, curious eyes stared at me, awaiting my decision. “Good gracious, Mama is old enough to decide for herself. You must ask her, Esther.”

  Esther bolted off and was back before you could say Jack Robinson to announce Mama's agreement. A new mood of merriment descended on us, as will so often happen at the anticipation of a delightful indiscretion. Esther brought out the cards, and we all sat around playing Pope Joan for shillings. We only played for pennies at home, and I was convinced that the gentlemen, who beat Esther and me quite mercilessly, would not demand their winnings.

  I misjudged their gallantry. Desmond reached out his hand when we called the game over. My winnings from Mr. Stone were completely wiped out. I had to pay not only the pound note but another two shillings as well.

  “That’s twice today I’ve disappointed you,” Desmond said as he pocketed the money.

  I knew he referred to the episode in the cellar but could not permit him to think so. “Yes, indeed, but my disappointment at your accepting the invitation to the Haymarket palls beside having to pay out hard cash. That really hurts.”

  He jiggled the end of my nose with his finger and said, “I just want to keep you on your toes. I don’t want you to feel you know me too thoroughly. Familiarity breeds contempt.”

  Duke was nonplussed at such daring as Desmond’s actually touching me. He looked wildly at Esther. I began to lead Desmond to the door. “How true. One cannot help feeling contempt at a gentleman’s taking familiar privileges with a lady’s nose.”

  “Thank you for the advice. Next time I shall lower my familiarity an inch. I received no lecture for trespassing on your lips.”

  “Some familiarities are, of course, beneath contempt.”

  “Very true; the more pleasant familiarities are quite unspeakable. Speaking of the unspeakable, shall I haul Duke along with me? He’ll be here till midnight if I don’t.”

  “Please take him. Is he really all right, Desmond? I thought Esther was only amusing herself with him, but I have noticed a rather soft smile on her this afternoon. It’s all your fault for telling her he is sought after.’’

  “She couldn’t do better. Charles Stone is another matter. I’d be wary of any crony of Prinny’s. We’ll keep a sharp eye on them tomorrow night at the theater. Shall I send my carriage around tomorrow morning for you, or will Eliot have finally attended to bringing your own? You must have any amount of shopping and sightseeing to do.”

  “I have a strong feeling Mr. Duke will put himself and his carriage at Esther’s disposal. It shan’t leave the door without me in it.”

  He shook his head in dismay. “So lavish of your presence with the one man in London who will dislike it intensely. I’ll drop by in the afternoon in case Duke disappoints you. I don’t expect you to stay home, but I’ll drop around to check.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know yet what tomorrow might bring.”

  “That’s what makes life interesting, isn’t it? Who would have thought last week that the mail coach from Bath would deliver such unexpected delights?” He stopped and a slow smile crept across his lips, wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “Now I’m going to kiss you, Belle,” he warned. His hands reached for me. I evaded them and darted back to the saloon to tell Mr. Duke his friend was waiting for him.

  “No need. I have my own buggy,” Duke said.

  “It is waiting as well.”

  ‘‘Eh? I didn’t send for it.’’

  “I did.”

  “Oh. Thank you very much, Miss Haley. Very kind of you.” With a baleful glare, he waddled from the room.

  From behind he looked like a knock-kneed badger. I was amazed that Esther would give him the time of day, but there is no accounting for taste. It was even stranger that the tall gallant waiting for his friend would find anything of delight in me, yet it didn’t seem possible the laughing glow in his eyes was simulated.

  Desmond smiled and said, “We’ll continue our—er—discussion next time, Belle. Good day.”

  The evening seemed very flat, with all our friends having forsaken us. A dozen times I went to the window, sure that one of the passing carriages would stop and a visitor come to our door. Nothing of the sort happened. The only liveliness in our evening was Ettie’s bustling about the house. She came to check that Esther and I had what we needed when we went up to the master bedroom, which we were now sharing.

  “You’ll see a wee bit of an ivory painting there on the bedside table,” she told me. “I found it under the pillow when I made up the bed fresh for you. A pretty little thing. Must be some kin to Mr. Sutton, as he had it under his pillow.”

  I went to look at it immediately and found myself staring at a very lovely young face. It was a miniature on ivory of a blond girl I had never seen before in my life.

  “Let me see!” Esther said, crowding at my elbow. “Pretty!” Actually, she bore a resemblance to Esther—not a striking resemblance, but she was the same type and age. “Who can she be?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You must know! Graham had it under his pillow. Perhaps he had a light o’ love, Belle,” she said, and laughed, for of course we both believed such dissipation entirely unlikely of Graham. “Mama might know. Why don’t you ask her?”

  I asked Mama, who was as much perplexed as I. She murmured, “Very strange, very strange indeed. Almost as though ... but Graham was not that sort of gentleman.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course he wasn’t.”

  “According to Mr. Stone, they all do it in London. A fellow is considered very dull if he doesn’t have a mistress. That’s what he said.”

  “Do you think Mr. Stone considers himself dull, Mama?” I asked. Though it was a rhetorical question asked to open up her eyes, she was at pains to assure me that he called himself a dull old lad.

  I did not consider Graham dull by any means, but neither did I believe he had a mistress. It was preposterous. Yet as I lay in bed thinking about it I could come up with no other possible explanation. It was the fact of the thing being under his pillow that stym
ied me. My likeness was on his desk. This one was even closer to him. And she was so very, very pretty. Yootha or Eliot might be able to enlighten me, but I did not think I would show the miniature to them. I regretted that Esther had seen it. Because if the unthinkable was true and Graham had been unfaithful to me, I preferred to keep the secret locked in my own heart. But I would not believe it; I would rather live in doubt than have to acknowledge that Graham was untrue.

  Chapter Ten

  After a poor night’s rest, I woke in the morning feeling like a dishrag. The trip to the Haymarket Theatre loomed as an ordeal. Even the arrival of our gowns from the modiste failed to cheer me, though they were lovely. In my skirt pocket the ivory miniature, not an inch wide by two inches long, burdened me as though it were a block of lead. There was some tacit agreement among the family that the find would not be discussed, which didn’t stop Esther and Mama from casting pitying glances at me.

  Eliot would not be coming today. As my rough treatment had kept Mr. Stone and Duke at bay, the only company to be looked forward to was that of Desmond’s groom, who was to bring the carriage around in the afternoon. To disperse my fit of the dismals, I decided to accept the use of it, just this once, and take Mama and Esther to Hyde Park at four o’clock to gawk at the ton.

  We were ready by three, except to put on our pelisses, and we sat in state in the saloon, awaiting the carriage. When the wheels drew to a stop Desmond hopped out and paced toward our door. He had someone with him—a man who did not quite merit the term “gentleman” yet who looked a notch above the “coves.” My low spirits rose insensibly, and when Hotchkiss went to the door I felt a smile lift my lips. My fingers closed around the ivory miniature, and I knew I would show it to Desmond.

  Then he was announced, and my plan was forgotten. I stared in wonder at the implacable face he wore, the stiff bow, the angry lines that pinched his lips to white, and, worst of all, the black accusation in his eyes.

  “Desmond, what is it?” I demanded.

  He didn’t say a word but only stared at me as though I were a she-devil. It was his companion who spoke, and I shall never forget the fear that seized my heart, clenching it into a hard, cold stone. The man held out a piece of paper and announced, “I have a search warrant for these premises, Miss Haley. I am an officer of the law, and any interference in the execution of my duty will be considered a misdemeanor.”

  A trembling seized me. I was quite sure I was going to faint, till Mama beat me to it. To make matters worse, she was standing at the time, and she reeled over onto the floor with a dreadful thump. My trembling ceased, my heart unfroze, and once more the blood coursed through my veins. I grabbed the wine bottle and ran to Mama while Esther darted off for Ettie. Hotchkiss came pelting in, and among the lot of us we got Mama lifted to the sofa.

  While we did this the intruders stood uncertainly, but they did not offer help or even apologize. When they had ascertained that Mama was recovering, the officer of the law announced that we were not to leave the house or remove so much as a handkerchief under penalty of I hardly know what—hanging, perhaps.

  They marched upstairs, where they began rooting through all our private things. Hotchkiss announced, with fire in his eyes, “I’ll just run up and keep a guard on them. They won’t fill their pockets—not if I know anything!”

  “I’ll get my butcher knife and have that lad’s gizzard out if he goes meddling with my privates,” Ettie declared. “The bare-faced traitor! And him sitting in your saloon, miss, guzzling your wine all yesterday afternoon.”

  When Mama was able to speak she asked in a faint, quavering voice, “What does it mean, Belle? What is he looking for?”

  “The money, of course,” I told her.

  “What makes him think it’s here?” Esther demanded. Soon she was lamenting, “I suppose this means we shan’t be going to the Haymarket this evening.”

  My first bout of fear was stiffening to anger. How dare Desmond Maitland accuse us of being thieves, after all the help we had given him? He had ruined our day, but he would not ruin Esther’s longed-for trip to the theater. “If we’re not locked up in Bridewell by that time, we shall go, Esther,’’ I promised her. "I can guarantee, however, that Mr. Maitland will not be of the party.”

  “And he seemed so very nice,” Mama said, shaking her head sadly. “It was all a con, Belle. He has only been pretending to have a tendre for you to gain access to this house. All along he thought we were thieves. Say what you will about Mr. Stone. He would never do anything like this.”

  I could hardly control the angry shaking of my voice, “No human being would do such a thing! The man is an ogre. I shall never forgive this, never!”

  Mama, that mountain of understatement, allowed that it went “beyond anything. Really, it is nothing less than a betrayal of friendship.’’

  “I wish Duke were here,’’ Esther murmured. As though that little badger could have stood up to a monster like Maitland.

  When they had finished with the upstairs they returned below, still with Hotchkiss glaring and Ettie glowering, the butcher knife clutched under her apron and a Bible in her other hand to ward off these twin demons. We ladies went upstairs to get as far away from them as we could. We all huddled, scared to death, in the master bedroom. It bore a few traces of their meddling but was not seriously disarranged.

  We talked desultorily at first, but as time passed we all fell silent, which allowed me to think. Why had Maitland suddenly changed his tactics? He had already searched this house from rafters to cellar and knew there was no money here. What had happened to change his mind? Did he think I had secreted the money elsewhere and brought it back after his search? If this were so—and I could find no other explanation—then he had thought all along that I was a common thief, and his acting the gallant had been just that—an act. How had he convinced a judge to swear out a warrant?

  It was close to an hour later when Ettie came to the door and said Officer Roy would like to speak to Miss Haley in the saloon.

  “Oh, dear, do you think you should go?” Mama asked. Her pale little face was pinched in anguish for me. “Do you want us to go with you, Belle?”

  I knew what an ordeal it would be for her, and I wished to spare Esther as well. “Of course I must go, but there’s no need for you to bother. I intend to have an apology from Officer Roy before he leaves. At least Mr. Maitland has left.” I looked questioningly at Ettie.

  “He was just putting on his hat when I came up,” she assured me.

  “Good, then I’ll go. I am curious to learn why this search was made. I’ll find out from Officer Roy.”

  The officer was alone in the saloon, but I saw through the curtains that Maitland’s carriage was waiting for him. I strode in with my head high and a martial temper displayed on my face. Roy jumped to his feet when he got a look at me.

  “I would like an explanation and an apology for this unforgivable intrusion, sir.” He pointed to the sofa, but I chose to remain on my feet. I was much too excited to sit.

  “It was the money, you see, miss,” he began, very conciliatory.

  “So I gathered. What convinced Mr. Maitland that it was here when he had already searched the house from top to bottom?”

  He handed me a crisp, new pound note and said, “This here is what convinced him.”

  “Did he find it here?” I asked.

  “Not exactly find it. The story I got is that you gave it to him yourself, Miss Haley. Maitland set up a game of cards and arranged to win so as to see a sample of your blunt, like. This here is the bill you gave him, and it’s part and parcel of the lot that was stolen.”

  I remembered discussing the bills with Maitland. “They were crisp, brand-new ones. Unmarked, too ...”

  “How does he know this is a part of the stolen money? He said the bills weren’t marked.”

  “I daresay he said that to fool you. They’re not marked so as you’d notice, but if you look close, there’s a little cut there halfway down the left sid
e. He didn’t even do it on purpose, for the locks don’t care for marked money, but when the bills came from the Mint he happened to notice that bit of an irregularity. You’ll see as well that although this here bill is two years old, it hasn’t been circulated. We figure it was sitting in the case all the while, keeping fresh.”

  “That strikes me as very slim evidence on which to have sworn out a warrant to search my house.”

  “Well, ‘tis and ‘tisn’t. In his work, Maitland often has to deal with the judges, and they’ve come to see he usually knows what he’s talking about. He generally sniffs the wind from the right direction,” he added, eying me askance.

  “He erred this time.”

  “Did he?” His blue eyes, sharp with suspicion, bore into me.

  “Yes, he did.”

  He leaned closer and spoke in a low tone. “He’s ready to deal soft with you, miss. My advice is, leap at it. Just tell us where we can pick up the rest of it, and it won’t go no farther. You’ll be saved the shame of arrest and the downright disagreeableness of being locked up. Nasty place, Bridewell.”

  In the unlikely event that you have ever swallowed a white-hot coal, you will understand how I felt. My breast burned; my head felt as if it would burst. I pointed my finger at the door and shouted like a fishwife. “Get out! Get out of my house, and don’t you ever dare to darken this door again! I’ll have you reported to the Prime Minister. And you can tell Mr. Maitland he has sniffed the wind from the wrong direction this time. His little comedy failed to work.”

  The officer shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Where did you get this note, then, miss?” He waved the cursed pound note before my eyes.

  I had to commit some act of violence, and since I was afraid to strike an officer of the law, I snatched the banknote and ran for the grate. He stopped me before I could chuck it into the flames. “I don’t know where it came from. It’s his word against mine that I gave it to him.”

  “That’s your last word, then?”