by Sara Bennett
“Perhaps Rose was given another surname? Her father’s surname?” he said gently. “What was his surname, Averil?”
“I-I don’t know it. I don’t know who the man was that my mother ran off with. My father would never have told me, even if he’d lived, and he made sure no one else did either. It was a painful episode he wanted to erase from his life. Gareth doesn’t know anything either.” She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly alight with expectation. “Can you find out for me, my lord?”
That made him smile. She had a way of making him smile. Surely that was a good sign? And then he wondered if he was smiling like Dr. Simmons had a little earlier and thought that perhaps it was not such a good thing after all.
“I can certainly try,” he answered her, all brisk and businesslike. “It was a scandal at the time, so my uncle tells me. He might even know who it was. As long as you don’t find the matter distressing . . .?”
“I think I need to know the man’s name if I am to find Rose.” She hesitated. “You said last night that you were offering me your help. Are you still offering me your help?”
He nodded. “Of course. How did you come upon Sally Jakes?” he asked curiously.
Averil told him about her old nanny and the letter she’d sent asking for information. “So I know my mother and Rose were living at The Tin Soldier. According to Mrs. Jakes, Rose was sent to St. Thomas’s. It is after that the trail goes cold.”
She was looking downcast again but Rufus couldn’t help feeling a tingle of the old excitement he’d been missing since he gave up The Guardians. Rose was the bastard daughter of Lady Martindale. Surely someone would know what became of her? He’d visit some of his old contacts and ask questions, see what he could discover.
“So you will help me find her?”
She was watching him with a look that told him she wasn’t going to get her hopes up only to have them dashed again.
“I promise,” he assured her. “I said I would. I don’t go back on my word once it’s given, Averil. You can rely on me utterly and completely.”
She nodded, glancing away so that he wouldn’t see the gleam of tears, but he saw them anyway.
“You are very kind, Lord Southbrook. Even though Jackson has helped me thus far, I don’t trust him. He left me all alone. It-it was not a nice experience.” Her eyes narrowed and she looked about her, as if hoping Jackson would pop up from behind the desk so that she could give him a piece of her mind. “I thought he’d be here at the Home today but I haven’t seen him.”
“Leave Jackson to me,” Rufus said with a hint of menace in his voice. “I’ll deal with him. And I am not very kind, Averil. I’m doing this as much for my own pleasure as to help you. I told you I needed a distraction.”
But she only smiled again, as if he was making a joke and she did not believe him for a moment. Rufus followed her from the room, and found himself observing, with a great deal of satisfaction, the sway of her hips beneath her skirts.
He was a cad and a damned fool, he didn’t need anyone to tell him that, but she was a little beauty, no doubt about it. Could he make her happy? Could he marry her and show the doubters that the wicked earl was a reformed fellow after all?
Preposterous!
Averil glanced at him over her shoulder. “Did you say something, my lord?”
Rufus shook his head. “Nothing you need worry about, Lady Averil.”
A moment later they were back with Gareth, who promptly offered to show him the dormitories. “I presume Lady Averil has shown you the kitchen?” he added, giving Averil a look that promised a scolding later on. “I would rather have done that myself, my lord.”
“I’ve seen enough,” said Rufus bluntly. He was done with being polite. “I’ll be in touch, Simmons. And thank you, Lady Averil.”
He bowed over her hand briefly, and then he was gone.
“I think we impressed him,” Gareth said, rubbing his hands together.
Averil was smiling to herself. Lord Southbrook was going to help her find Rose. She could rely on him “utterly and completely.” For the first time in a long time she felt a spurt of real hope, as if she’d been blundering around in the dark and now someone had lit a candle. The earl might have a dubious reputation, he might be an outcast from society, but Averil could not believe he was a bad man. In fact she was liking his company more and more. Beth might not trust him but Averil did.
“I’m sure he was very impressed.” Belatedly she remembered to answer Gareth.
Beth nudged her, and Averil remembered Gareth’s early behavior. She took a breath and launched into the speech she knew had to be made.
“Gareth, I do hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I really don’t think you should show any partiality for the girls. Or the staff. You are our leader, you know. We look to you for strength of character. A good leader should not show partiality. Perhaps you don’t realize you are doing it but the women notice. I noticed. Violet is a very pretty girl but she is your employee, she is under your care, Gareth.”
Gareth shot her a look under his brows and she could see he was shocked and mortified. Obviously he hadn’t realized how obvious his partiality was. In the end he gave a sort of humph, but she was glad to see that when they returned to the common room, he gave Violet Pinnock a wide berth.
Averil spent a few wasted moments searching the Home for Jackson. The man was usually ensconced in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating whatever the cook was baking that day, but he was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t put it past him to be hiding, avoiding her. He’d be expecting her to seek him out and give him a piece of her mind. All she really wanted to do was to tell him she no longer needed his detective services, that she’d found someone else.
With a sigh, Averil gave up. She was tired from the earl’s visit, the high emotion of their talk, and then her remonstration of Gareth. Jackson would turn up eventually. He always did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
* * *
Rufus was keen to find Jackson, and he soon had his chance. After a word with one of the lads, in the gang hanging around the streets, he set off down a narrow alleyway that ended in a filthy courtyard.
The house he wanted was narrow and leaning to one side, and when he banged on the door it was opened by an old woman with no teeth. “Wha’s a gen’leman wan’ ’ere?” she demanded, or at least that was what he thought she said.
“I’m looking for Jackson. I was told he was here.”
“Wha’ you wan’ ’im fer?”
“I have something to offer him that would be to his advantage,” Rufus said. And, when the woman looked blank, “Money, madam.”
“Ah.” She thought a moment, but the money swayed her as he’d hoped it would. “’E’s at the Soldier.”
“The Tin Soldier?”
But she’d already closed the door.
Jackson was not unknown to him. Rufus had made his acquaintance when he worked for The Guardians, and although he’d found the man useful on occasion he had never entirely trusted him. He wasn’t surprised he’d run off and left Averil in the lurch when he’d seen Rufus that night, because he was sure that was what must have happened. Jackson must have thought he was in trouble, or perhaps it was just a spontaneous reaction for someone who lived in the murky world he did.
So had Jackson something to hide? Just what was he up to these days?
Rufus meant to find out.
Averil was in the common room to help the women with their sewing. It was a task she did not relish. No one at the Home had a talent for sewing and all of them groaned whenever she appeared to take their lesson.
“Violet, will you help Molly with her petticoat?”
The latest task she had set them was to sew themselves a very plain petticoat. Not terribly exciting perhaps, but at least it would be of use to them when they started working. Or even if they didn’t. Averil had seen the state of the clothes some of them arrived in and she felt obliged to help.
Violet was giving her a sideway
s look, and although she did as she’d been asked, Averil had a feeling the girl did not take kindly to being told what to do. She might be sweet and biddable when Gareth was there but Averil had found the girl had another side to her where others were concerned. A rebellious streak.
Perhaps that was a good thing. A woman needed a bit of fire to survive in this world, and Violet appeared to have what survivors were made of.
Sometimes she wondered why Violet was here at all. Her work was not particularly well paid, and if she’d wanted to Averil was quite certain Violet could have found alternative employment far more to her liking. She was pretty and clever and quick to learn. Gareth had told her that Violet’s family wished her to come to the Home, although the reason he gave was vague in the extreme. When Averil attempted to question Violet about it, the girl said she wasn’t happy in her own home and she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Do you sew much at home?” Averil asked now, smiling at Violet to show she wasn’t being nosey, when she was.
“Not like this,” the girl said. “Darn sometimes, or mend sheets, but never make something from new, miss. My lady,” the correction was added a little grudgingly.
“I don’t mind being miss,” Averil assured her. Then, when Violet didn’t answer her, “Well, I think to be able to sew is a skill worth—”
“What was he doing here yesterday?” Violet cut her short. “The earl, I mean.”
“He plans to make a donation, and Doctor Simmons wanted to show him about,” Averil said, surprised by the question and the way it was delivered. “Why do you ask, Violet?”
Violet shrugged, her expression closed. “No reason, miss, I just wondered.”
“He’s a good-looking sod,” Molly said, with a sly look. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss.”
Averil frowned. “Molly, if Doctor Simmons were to hear you speaking like that he wouldn’t be at all pleased.”
“Noffink I say pleases Doctor Simmons,” Molly muttered.
Averil sighed. Making conversation was sometimes very difficult, and she was glad when her lesson was over and she was able to leave. Beth was at home, and she set off, expecting her home to be as quiet as usual, but when she walked in the door she was met by the sound of Hercules barking and a boy’s excited voice.
She wasn’t really surprised—Lord Southbrook had mentioned Eustace was planning a visit. Averil made her way toward the back of the house, and was nearly knocked down by an excited Hercules. He ran up to her and then turned and ran back toward Eustace, narrowly missing knocking over a small table with a large vase on it.
“Lady Averil.” Eustace was breathless. “Hercules can jump very high to catch a ball. Did you know?”
Behind him Beth appeared, her hair untidy and her face flushed, as if she had been trying to keep Hercules and her visitor calm. And failing.
“I did know, Eustace,” said Averil. “What are you doing here?”
Eustace looked uneasy. “I wanted to visit you,” he said, with a sly glance through long lashes. “I don’t have a dog in London, so I thought I’d play with yours. Do you mind?”
Averil knew she’d be fibbing if she scolded him. She didn’t mind. She liked Eustace and she thought he was lonely, and Hercules definitely needed exercise.
“Of course I don’t mind. And I’m sure Hercules is glad to see you. It’s just that your father will be worried, and I thought you promised him not to go off on your own again?”
He looked guilty, scuffing his feet. Hercules went and leaned against him, nearly knocking him over.
Averil smiled. “Why don’t you come and have something to eat and drink, and I will send a note around to your home to say you’re here and safe?”
Eustace thought that was a good idea, and chattered away as he followed Averil into the parlor.
For the next hour Beth was on the edge of her seat, worried he’d drop crumbs on the floor, but Averil enjoyed the informality of Eustace’s visit. It occurred to her that she didn’t often have visitors, and when she did it was Gareth on charity business, or acquaintances who were not really friends. There were her friends from the Husband Hunters Club but at the moment they all seemed busy with their own lives. By nature she was no social butterfly, and Eustace was a breath of fresh air.
“What do you do when you’re at home?” she asked him, sipping her tea, and trying not to notice when he slipped Hercules half a sandwich.
“In Mayfair, do you mean? I have a tutor who comes three days a week, and I’m supposed to do my own studies in between. Mostly I play with Freddie, the housekeeper’s boy. He knows all sorts of places to play belowstairs.”
“I’ll bet he does,” Beth murmured.
“When I’m at Southbrook Castle I have a tutor, too, and I go riding or play in the garden. Papa is mostly in London, or he was until . . .” He stopped, his face changing. Averil, watching him, could tell something had happened to upset him, but she didn’t feel she could probe. “Uncle James is good fun,” he ended the conversation by taking a huge bite of cake, while Hercules, watching, whimpered.
After they’d finished, Beth suggested he take Hercules out into the garden, and the two women watched him from the window.
“He’s a lonely boy,” Averil said. “He seems very isolated. I wonder why he hasn’t been sent away to school?”
“Perhaps his father prefers him to be taught at home? And the isolation might come from Lord Southbrook’s position in society. Or out of it. I imagine it would be difficult for the boy to form suitable friendships when his father is not received.”
Averil knew Beth was right, but she felt sorry for Eustace, and apart from that she liked him. His pale, narrow face was enough like his father’s to make her wonder if Lord Southbrook had been very like this as a child. He still had those ridiculously long eyelashes, just like his son’s.
“It’s a pity I can’t do something to help,” she murmured thoughtfully to herself.
“Averil.” Beth’s voice sounded a warning. “Please don’t interfere. Lord Southbrook and his family are really nothing to do with you.”
“I know,” Averil replied, with a wry smile, “and I know I mustn’t interfere, but I feel as if there must be something I can do for Eustace.”
Beth shook her head. “Look what happened when you offered to help Doctor Simmons with his charity? Next thing you were roped in to all manner of activities, and he treats you as if you were a slave. You should be going out to parties and balls and picnics. You should be enjoying yourself, Averil.”
Averil hadn’t heard Beth hold forth quite that bluntly before. “You don’t like Gareth very much, do you, Beth?”
Her companion looked guilty. “I’m sorry. I know you hoped—”
But Averil was quick to reassure her. “I understand. Actually, I’m not quite as impressed with Gareth as I used to be, either. I know he does his best, and his heart is in the right place, but sometimes . . . well, I think he has things all wrong where the distressed women are concerned.”
“And then there was Hercules,” Beth said. “I know you felt compelled to save him from his cruel owner, but he is rather big for our small house. I’m in a constant flap, Averil, wondering what you will try to save next.”
Averil didn’t know what she could say to that, but it turned out she didn’t have to say anything, because just then the knocker rattled on the front door. A moment later the maid came in to let them know that the Honorable James Blainey was hoping for a word.
“Oh dear,” Beth sighed, “more of Lord Southbrook’s family, I presume? Should we receive him?”
Averil smiled. “He’s probably come for Eustace.”
“Then we should definitely receive him.”
Averil glanced out of the window at Eustace, his face flushed, his hair wild, romping with the dog. He looked completely happy. Beth was right, she was always trying to save things. And people. Perhaps it had something to do with her mother abandoning her when she was a child. But if she could ease Eustace of some o
f his loneliness then she would. And if she could help his father back from the outer edges of society, then she’d do that, too.
The Tin Soldier was a different proposition by day. Grimy and dirty, paint peeling from the walls, and stinking of the night’s activities. The doors were firmly closed, but Rufus hammered on them until a sleepy-looking boy opened them.
“What you want, gov’ner?” he demanded. “We don’ open up till later.”
“I believe there’s a man called Jackson here,” Rufus said, placing his shoe in the gap between door and jamb to stop the boy closing it. “I need to see him.”
The boy’s eyes weren’t so sleepy now.
“I know he’s here,” Rufus said, and reaching into his pocket drew out some coins. “Let me in.”
The coins were gone in an instant and Rufus was standing in the room he remembered from several nights ago. For a moment, as he looked at the stairs, he could almost see Averil standing there, her fair hair tumbling down, her skirt torn and dirty, but her gray eyes clear and brave. Now that he thought of it, it was a brave thing to do, going to The Tin Soldier. Even taking part in the Home for Distressed Women was courageous behavior for a proper young lady. Averil Martindale was a brave girl and he admired her for it.
Just as well she was brave, Rufus thought. Because if he did marry her she would need all her courage to live at Southbrook Castle with his madcap family.
The thought made him curl his lip at his own dishonorable behavior. Could he really inveigle a woman like Averil into marrying him? Why would she say yes? She didn’t strike him as the sort of person who would say yes to anything without a very good reason.
That made him feel a little better. He’d ask and she’d refuse and then he’d be less of a dishonorable cad.
“Lord Southbrook?”
It wasn’t Averil coming down the stairs, it was Sally Jakes. She looked neat and bright, not as if she’d been up most of the night running the gambling house.
“Sally. I’m sorry to barge in but I wanted to see Jackson.”
