The Rake's Unveiling of Lady Belle

by Raven McAllan

  ‘Not accept you? Why on earth not?’ Louisa stared at him intently and then poked him in the chest in a most unladylike manner. ‘Phillip, you haven’t offered her carte blanche have you?’ She sounded aghast. ‘She’s got lady stamped all over her.’

  ‘Ha, as if,’ Phillip said morosely. ‘She offered that herself.’

  Louisa gasped and giggled. ‘Oh my. I wish I had been a fly on the wall during that conversation. Hoisted with your own petard I think, Phillip. I must tell George.’ She extended a foot out below the edge of the toile she still wore and wriggled her toes. ‘It would be worth at least one new pair of sandals from him.’

  ‘Don’t you dare, he’ll never let me forget it. I’ll buy the bloody sandals if you don’t. Dammit, Louisa, I want to marry her. It’s Be…Madame Belle who balks not me. She says she will not sully my name.’ He scowled. ‘As I explained, if Lady Rattenberry remembers whatever it is she thinks is going on, then life will be difficult. Lord knows I must be worried to confide in you. George will kill me if I get you mixed up in unpleasant doings.’

  Louisa patted his cheek. ‘He’d more likely to call you out for not including him as well,’ she said wryly. ‘We both know that. He will be annoyed if he misses all the fun and games.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Phillip wasn’t so sure. Had he really been right in involving Louisa in his plot? He had a soft heart, and refused to ask help from anyone else who might be hurt by his actions. So far the ladies escorted into Belle’s salon, since the Rosemary debacle, were wives of friends, and he’d taken the gamble Belle wouldn’t know all the ins and outs of how enamoured those ladies were with their husbands and not him.

  ‘Phillip, she looked as if you have ripped her heart out.’

  Louisa’s words gave him a nasty taste in his mouth, but what else could he do?

  Phillip sighed and tugged at his cravat, which suddenly seemed as if it was about to throttle him. ‘I know. Dammit, Louisa, I need to know she is all right.’

  ‘Isn’t there a less costly way of doing it?’ Louisa walked to where a half-made velvet driving gown hung, and she stroked the material. ‘This is so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes. At these rates you’ll be bankrupt before you win her. Madame Belle’s clothes do not come cheap.’

  ‘Then be glad you’re not paying for them out of your pin money.’ Phillip bowed and winked. ‘Or George would call me out. Luckily I can afford it, and in some perverse way, I’m enjoying myself.’

  Louisa shook her head in mock despair. ‘You deserve to be taken to the cleaners, my lord. Talk about devious.’

  He flicked her nose. ‘I learned it all from your husband. Now, try and look enamoured. No, not as if you’ve eaten a crab apple. Enamoured.’

  ‘You make fun of one so beautifully.’ Louisa hadn’t altered her expression.

  ‘Good, then simper.’

  Her eyes widened and Phillip glimpsed the humour he’d come to expect from his close friend’s wife.

  ‘Oh, my lord, are you sure I’m worth it?’ She leaned close to him and fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Heavens above.’

  ‘If you says lawks, m’lud, I’ll throttle you,’ Phillip muttered as the door opened and Belinda re-entered carrying a basket of ribbons. He hoped to hell she hadn’t heard their exchange.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Belinda looked out of the window as Phillip helped his companion into an unmarked, black, smart carriage and followed her inside. As his pantaloon-clad rear disappeared out of view, she sighed. Clever as ever, for the vehicle could belong to anyone, and in theory should cause no comments as it drove from Bruton Street to wherever it had to go.

  The carriage moved off and Belinda rested her heated cheek on the cool panes of glass. After Tippen’s thoughts on the subject of how Phillip acted towards all the ladies he escorted to her salon, she’d watched the couple carefully. Was Tippen correct? Phillip and the Lady Louisa were at ease with each other—that was obvious—but aware in any way other than friends? That she was not so sure about.

  ‘Well?’ Tippen demanded as she re-entered the room after showing the couple out. ‘Am I correct? No awareness, no spark. You’d need more than a tinderbox and some dry wood to set those two alight.’

  ‘Are you really saying that?’ Belinda lifted her cheek from the glass, and hoped she didn’t have an imprint on her skin. ‘Or just trying to make me feel better?’

  Tippen stood with her hands on her hips. ‘You know me better than that,’ she said in a fierce voice, so unlike her normal soft tones that Belinda’s pulse jumped. ‘Lying like that takes too much effort. They are friends, it shows, but kissing friends?’ Tippen shook her head. ‘Not at all. And I know something I bet he doesn’t realise I know.’ Tippen grinned. ‘Lady Louisa Frampton is married to Lord George Frampton.’

  ‘Well?’ Why was that important? Of course the lady was wed. ‘All his lady friends are married.’ Even Belinda realised that married women were a rake’s normal grazing ground. It was generally acknowledged once an heir and a spare were born, most ladies—and gentlemen—took a lover. It was something she abhorred, and as far as she was concerned, another reason for not accepting Phillip. Could he really change so much as to not take a lover and instead be faithful? ‘It’s the norm, and you know that.’

  ‘Maybe, but not in his case. Not for an age,’ Tippen said stubbornly. ‘Why are you so insistent not to open your eyes and accept that?’

  Belinda lifted one shoulder wearily. She knew if she ever married it would be for love, and faithfulness would be her own private vow. Therefore even though she accepted she was more than halfway in love with Phillip, Belinda couldn’t say yes to his proposal. A marriage without fidelity would never be for her.

  He said it would be different, but…there is still the problem of my family…and Rosemary.

  ‘Come back into this room,’ Tippen said as she used her elbow to nudge Belinda.

  ‘Oh Lud, I’m sorry I was…’

  ‘Away in your mind, yes, I could tell. Now come back and stay here for a moment. Put aside whatever made you look so melancholy and fasten your mind on this instead. Do you think so little of Phillip that you believe he would cuckold his closest friend?’ Tippen shook her head and began to count on her fingers. ‘One, he would never cheat on a friend, in this case probably his closest friend. Two, they were youths who watched each other’s backs at school and Oxford. Remember I was on the estate all the time and servants are the worst gossips around. Those two young men’s antics were the talk of the servant’s hall, and we youngsters used to overhear our parents regaling them. Three, they wenched together until Lord George wed, but never poached. That was the talk of the estate, I tell you. Honour among gentlemen upheld. Four, Lord Phillip was right-hand man for Lord George. Five…’

  ‘Enough.’ Belinda laughed, reluctantly. ‘I take your word for it. To be honest you have only reinforced what I thought. Phillip and Lady Louisa are close, but close in the manner of you and I, or Clarissa and I. Friends, very good friends, but not lovers.’

  Tippen nodded her agreement. ‘I was able to study them when they didn’t know I was looking. Their camaraderie was lovely, and something most of us would envy.’ She nibbled the end of her index finger. ‘However, not one ounce of lover-like inclinations. It is, in the words of the boy who delivers the coal, friends without fiddling.’

  ‘Fid…oh goodness, no fiddle no diddle.’ Belinda wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, left her spot by the window, and walked to the cupboard where she kept a few decanters of spirit to offer to her clients and their escorts. ‘Madeira or whisky? No damn, the whisky is in the sitting room. Madeira or, well, Madeira?’

  ‘Oh in that case I’ll have Madeira.’ Tippen sniggered. ‘And you are correct with regards to Lord Phillip and Lady Louisa Frampton. A put-up job. Or in the case of his pego, a non put-up job.’

  Belinda swivelled round so fast her skirt took a moment to catch up with her and stuck to her legs. The decanter tilted and she righted i
t hurriedly, as she spluttered, and tears ran down her face once more.

  ‘T…Tipp…oh my.’ Belinda put the decanter down, none too steadily, and giggled uncontrollably.

  Tippen open her eyes wide, and blinked several times before she snorted and laughed out loud. ‘N…non p…p…p… put-up. Or in, or wave hello, or…’ She collapsed into a chair and shook with mirth.

  Belinda copied her actions and took the opposite chair, as she laughed until she ached. Tippen didn’t seem much better. Eventually their mirth dropped into the odd snort or giggle and then to mainly silence with just an occasional titter.

  ‘Oh Lud, I needed that,’ Belinda wiped her eyes on a spare piece of linen, and passed a similar piece to Tippen. ‘Life has been much too worrying lately, even with red, dark or fair downstairs. Who do we have at the moment?’

  ‘Darke, and he says Redding will take over for the night shift. Lovett has made sure they have a key for access so we won’t be bothered. Oh, and victuals. No ale. Mind you, not that they’d take one. Evidently they told Lovett their rules when on duty. Strict but fair, he opined, and no alcohol was the first thing they said.’

  ‘Luckily that doesn’t apply to us. Let’s go upstairs and have a dram instead of Madeira. We deserve it.’

  One dram became three, and they finished the fourth dram as they ate the excellent supper prepared by Mrs Lovett who, Belinda insisted, needed to slow down. Three nights a week she went next door to her own quarters at a sensible time, as Belinda argued she and Tippen were well able to fend for themselves. Mrs L had retorted—eventually successfully—that sometimes she’d rather be with them for the company, and so as to ensure her kitchen wasn’t a mess. Lovett, she said, had a tendency to sit in ‘his’ chair and snore the evening away. They needed to give him more work so he was healthily tired, she opined, not just in her expression dozing for dozing’s sake. As Lovett was their general factotum, Belinda knew he did over and above his allotted amount of work.

  However, Belinda accepted both arguments and they had come to the agreed compromise, with one night a week the nearest she ever got to a family meal, when all four of them sat together.

  Now as Lovett pushed back his chair and patted his stomach, Mrs L cleared her throat.

  ‘Miss Belle, we need to make a plan of action.’ She was the only one who insisted on calling Belinda Miss not Madame. Belinda rather liked it.

  Belinda looked up from her plate where she’d just scraped up the last piece of quince pudding. ‘Why?’ She fiddled with her spoon, turning it over and over between her fingers.

  Mrs L plucked the spoon out of Belinda’s hands, and rapped her knuckles with it. ‘In case we need one.’

  ‘Who has been telling tales?’ She sucked her maligned hand and looked at Tippen, who shook her head.

  ‘Oh don’t misunderstand me, I was going to, but someone got there before me.’

  Mrs L nodded sagely. ‘And rightly so. To only be told, oh we need a man on the door to look more intimate is not on, and well you know it.’

  Belinda reddened and heat rushed into her cheeks. ‘I wanted to spare you worry.’

  ‘Well, believe me, you didn’t,’ Mrs L retorted acerbically, in the manner of an old and trusted retainer. ‘I knew something was bothering you and Tippen, and Lord Phillip has been popping up here like a jack-in-the-box and changing his ladies as often as Mr Keane changes costumes. So I took it upon myself to ask him what was going on. Those three downstairs wouldn’t give anything away, so Lord P it had to be. And…’ she waggled her finger in the air ‘…he put me in the picture. That trollop indeed. How dare she?’

  Belinda shrugged. ‘A woman scorned, I think.’

  ‘Hmm, he should have known better than to revisit old pastures. After all no one should plough the same furrow twice.’

  Whisky and ale went all over the table as Belinda, Tippen and Lovett all spluttered and coughed. Mrs Lovett tut-tutted, and got up to fetch a cloth. ‘Look at you, the mess—I don’t know, worse than babes in arms.’ Her eyes twinkled even as she scolded them. ‘Messy as pups.’ She wiped the table. Lovett chuckled, and patted her bottom as she whisked past him.

  ‘We don’t wet ourselves in other…’

  Mrs Lovett shut her husband up, by the simple method of putting her hand over his mouth. ‘Enough of that. Isn’t it time you checked that whoever is downstairs is all right before we go next door and cosy down?’

  ‘Ah, right enough.’ Lovett stood up. ‘I’ll do that in a moment. First though, your plan?’

  ‘Oh my, I almost forgot.’ Mrs Lovett sat down with a thud that rocked the sturdy wooden chair. ‘Now then, Lovett has rigged up a bell from each of the rooms over here, to our rooms next door. Just in case.’

  In case of what, I wonder?

  ‘Don’t you look at me like that, now,’ Mrs Lovett said. ‘If that besom thinks she knows you—and even if she doesn’t—I wager she’ll try to stir things up. She doesn’t even need a big wooden spoon to do it either. Her tongue stirs well enough. So anything at all you’re worried about you ring for one of us. It’ll work by the door as well, but…’ she sighed ‘…I have a feeling in my waters. Something is amiss and about to cause trouble.’

  Belinda bit her lip to stop herself grimacing. Although, Mrs L and her ‘waters’ were usually correct in predicting something was awry. ‘You best show me which bell,’ she said. ‘So I don’t ring for you when I want one of the girls to bring some hat trimmings in, or tell them it’s time to stop work.’ She stood up.

  ‘And,’ Mrs L went on inexorably. Once she started on a theme she was an unstoppable force. ‘We have to have code words.’

  ‘Code words?’ Tippen asked in a puzzled voice. ‘What for?’

  In case it’s the only way you can tell us something’s amiss,’ Mrs Lovett said darkly. ‘If…if…oh well just if.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ Belinda asked as she frowned at Tippen who had turned away to have a very suspicious coughing fit. ‘Bring me the books?’

  ‘Nothing so complicated. May we have tea?’

  Tippen snorted. ‘If it’s rodent Rosemary, you’d not get a chance to ask for tea. And if it was anyone else it’ll look odd if you or Lovett came charging up and we really did want tea.’

  ‘Ah,’ Mrs Lovett said. The sides of her lips turned down as she realised how impractical that suggestion was. ‘What do you suggest?’

  Tippen opened her mouth and closed it again hastily as Belinda glared at her. Belinda’s head throbbed, and all she wanted to do was go to the sitting room alone and think. ‘I suggest, if we send a message and say, “May we have the refreshments we arranged,” that should work.’ She stood up. ‘Silly thought it may seem, I need peace and quiet to think. I’ll see you all in the morning.’

  ‘Ah, I’ll do my rounds, check all’s well downstairs and lock up.’ Lovett left the room.

  ‘Off you both go.’ Mrs Lovett made a shooing gesture to Belinda and Tippen. ‘We could all do with some quiet time.’

  Belinda had no idea what woke her from a deep and dreamless sleep. For a moment she wondered if in fact she was dreaming, but the chill of the air, which wafted through her open window, soon disabused her of that idea.

  She would never say she was gifted with extraordinary perceptions or second sight like some claimed, but at that moment she had a tingle on her scalp that was distinctly unnerving. The last time she’d experienced anything similar, her brother had appeared and forced her arm up her back so she’d hand over the last few pennies she’d saved. She had been a mere thirteen and her father had thrashed her for hiding money, no matter it was hers given to her by Lady L for her birthday. Belinda had never divulged that happening to anyone.

  Now, as the sensation intensified, she slowly and cautiously moved her head and looked around the room. Nothing seemed untoward, but still the itchy tingle remained. Belinda stayed as she was for several minutes and listened intently.

  Nothing. Except…

  Was that something
or someone scratching somewhere? My lace. Honiton and Brussels and very exclusive. She didn’t want that to disappear. Very carefully, Belinda pushed the covers back, swung her legs over the side of her bed and thrust her feet into her soft house slippers. If it was someone sneaking around she wanted to know who and why.

  It took mere seconds to don her robe and walk soft-footed towards the door. Should she ring the new bell? For a second she hesitated as she held her hand over it, but was it worth it? When it was probably a rat in the wainscoting or the roof timbers creaking? Did she really want to disturb other people’s sleep just because she herself had been disturbed, by the wind, or…

  Mrs Lovett’s voice seemed to reverberate though her mind.

  You need to take care. That woman is more than repellent, she is dangerous, and you saw her scorned. She’ll never forgive you or Lord Phillip for that.

  However, Belinda was convinced that whatever she heard, if indeed she did hear something, was nothing to do with Rosemary. She’d be more likely to complain of a poorly turned seam in the company of her cronies at Almack’s. More likely a faulty window catch or a rodent of the animal kind.

  Belinda opened her door slowly, and stepped over the uneven floorboard so it didn’t creak underfoot. She kept to the edge of the hallway and peered down the stairs.

  Nothing.

  She hovered there, uncertain what to do next. In the darkness with very little moon to shed any light through the window, it was easy to imagine all sorts of scary monsters and impossible scenarios looming ahead.

  There was another creak, a bang and a groan of pain.

  Belinda threw caution to the wind and pressed the nearest bell with scant regard as to whether it was the one she needed or not. She lifted up a brass candlestick from the console table nearby, picked up the hems of her night-rail and robe and headed down the stairs two at a time.

  Doors above her opened, doors below her slammed and she had no idea in which direction to turn.