The Crimson Cavaliers

by Mary Andrea Clarke

  “I’ll get it right next time,” Tom pursued. “I just needs practice.”

  Georgiana doubted this; she had rarely seen a weapon handled in less expert fashion.

  “It doesn’t seem to me to be the type of work which offers much opportunity for practice,” she commented in a level tone. “A mistake could cost your life. Surely the incident of the other night was adequate proof of that. Mr Lakesby has agreed not to hand you over to the law. However, if he learns you mean to try your hand on the road again, he may not feel so forgiving.” She paused, knowing her next words would be a gamble. “I have another proposition for you. Will you hear me out?”

  The boy looked blankly at her.

  “An offer,” Georgiana elucidated. “How would you like to work for me?”

  10

  The boy stared at Georgiana, his gaping eyes and dropped jaw resembling nothing so much as a startled fish.

  “I beg you will close your mouth,” said Georgiana.

  The boy obeyed, continuing to stare at his hostess, seeming incapable of any form of speech. Georgiana regarded him steadily.

  “Well?” she inquired. “Have you nothing to say?”

  “I – I dunno, miss.”

  Georgiana smiled. This sounded hopeful.

  “What is your name?”

  There was still an air of suspicion about him but he unbent sufficiently to answer.

  “Tom, miss.”

  “Tom what?”

  He blinked uncomprehendingly.

  “Have you no surname?”

  Tom shrugged. “Not that I knows, miss.”

  “I see. Well, Tom, here is what I propose. I am in need of a page. You will perform those duties in my household and do as you are told. In return, you shall have a uniform, a bed, food and I shall pay you three pounds a year.”

  “Lor’, miss!”

  “There are conditions attached,” Georgiana continued, ignoring his startled cry. “You must have nothing more to do with anyone at the tavern, and on no account are you to play any more at being a highwayman.”

  “I wasn’t playing,” said Tom indignantly. “It ain’t a game.”

  “I am aware,” said Georgiana. “Of you, on the other hand, I am not so certain. If you wish to be taken seriously as a highwayman, you had better be prepared to take the consequences. If you prefer, I will hand you over to Mr Lakesby. He may deal with you as he thinks fit.”

  An expression of panic momentarily banished the look of rebellion from Tom’s face. He did his best to regain his air of defiance quickly and Georgiana could not help but admire his spirit.

  “Well?” she said. “I’m sure you would be comfortable here. You’d find me fair. If you do as you’re told and cause me no trouble, I won’t be hard on you.”

  Georgiana could see him wavering. She pressed her advantage.

  “If you go back to, what was it, the Lucky Bell, you’ll find nothing but trouble. You’ll almost certainly end on the gallows. Mr Lakesby may be persuaded to leniency if you give up further thought of highway robbery. However, if you are determined to persevere, I doubt he will let you escape.”

  Georgiana smiled inwardly at the incongruity of the words coming out of her mouth. She could imagine Emily’s reaction.

  Tom looked at Georgiana doubtfully.

  “I don’t know nothing about being a page.”

  “You can learn. My servants will teach you.” As she considered the members of her household, Georgiana thought about how to break the news to them. She knew none would relish taking this dubious character under their protection. Nevertheless, they were loyal and would do as their mistress bade them, whatever their reservations.

  Tom still seemed hesitant. “You’d pay me? And have me to live here?”

  “That’s right,” said Georgiana. She knew what he was thinking. There was no adventure in being a page, yet her suggestion would ensure him comfortable shelter and a fixed amount of money. She could not help feeling some sympathy for his quandary.

  Tom chewed his bottom lip as he looked at Georgiana.

  “What if I don’t like it?”

  “Then you may go,” said Georgiana, “just as I may send you on your way if I don’t find you satisfactory.”

  Tom considered this. He seemed to find it fair, for he nodded. “All right, miss. I’ll do it.”

  “Excellent,” said Georgiana. “I’m sure we shall deal extremely together. I don’t expect you to make me regret my decision.”

  There was just a hint of warning in her voice. Tom seemed aware of it.

  “No, miss.”

  “There is just one more thing. You must not discuss your adventures with any members of the household. They would not take kindly to having a self-confessed highwayman among them.”

  This brought the sullen expression back to Tom’s face.

  “I mean it, Tom. There will be no boasting.” Georgiana looked at him thoughtfully. “In any case, I’m sure you realise your failed attempt gives you nothing of which to be proud.”

  Tom saw the force of this argument and sighed.

  “No, miss.”

  “Good. Now, for the moment I suggest you return to your room. Tomorrow you may commence your duties and will move to a room in the servants’ quarters.”

  Tom trotted off obediently. Georgiana wondered how long it would last and whether she would come to regret her impulse.

  The servants accepted with at least outward equanimity the news Tom was to join them. Georgiana could only be grateful that by some miracle, word of his adventure had not permeated the household. She did notice a fleeting look of anxiety cross Emily’s face, to be banished instantly as the composure demanded of a good servant was restored.

  In the privacy of Georgiana’s bedchamber, the maid did not hesitate to speak her mind.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, miss, taking in that boy.”

  “So do I,” said Georgiana.

  Emily looked at her in alarm. Georgiana laughed.

  “I think he will do very well, Emily.”

  “You think, miss?”

  Georgiana grew solemn.

  “Seriously, Emily, I don’t believe there’s anything to fear. If Tom was likely to recognise me, surely he would have done so by now. Besides, he won’t see the Crimson Cavalier again.”

  Emily was shaking her head. “Perhaps, but why must you needs reform the boy?”

  Georgiana smiled. “It is a little ironic, isn’t it, under the circumstances?” She lapsed into thoughtful silence. “Emily, have you considered the possibility that Tom might have killed Sir Robert?”

  “What? At his age?” Emily saw Georgiana was serious. “You don’t really think so, do you?”

  “I’m not sure,” responded Georgiana slowly. “He seemed to be hinting at greater experience than we know.”

  Emily spoke slowly, her brow furrowed in thought. “You think he held up Sir Robert’s carriage?”

  “It’s a possibility, don’t you think?”

  “Well, yes,” said Emily. “It doesn’t mean he did the murder, though, does it? Why would he?”

  “I don’t think he would have done it deliberately. The pistol may have gone off by accident. It was clear when he stopped Mr Lakesby’s carriage he was struggling to handle it. I had every expectation of it firing.”

  Emily had no difficulty accepting the force of this argument. “What about the pistol, miss? If he was only an errand boy in that tavern, no one would just give it to him, would they?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” said Georgiana. “Do you recall my telling you about a highwayman hanged a few months ago?”

  “I remember.” Emily nodded. “Sid something, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s right. He was cut down and taken to the Lucky Bell, before his body could go to the surgeons or the gibbet.”

  Emily shuddered. “I don’t know which is worse.”

  “Well, never mind that now,” said Georgiana, pushing out of her mind images of sharp m
edical dissecting knives or birds pecking the flesh of dead criminals. “I remember someone mentioning his pistol was missing. There was talk that one of the jailers had stolen and sold it.”

  “To a boy of Tom’s age? Is that likely, miss?”

  “Perhaps not likely, but possible.”

  “Would he have the money?” Emily sounded doubtful.

  “I don’t know. If the pistol was stolen the thief may have been glad to take what he could get. People with stolen goods to dispose of usually know the Lucky Bell is the place to do that. I’m sure crooked jailers are no exception.”

  “You think Tom may have used it to hold up Sir Robert?”

  Georgiana nodded. “He denies being there, but there’s a nervousness about him which makes me unsure. Perhaps he stopped Sir Robert and the robbery went wrong.”

  Emily mulled over this possibility. “Do you think it will help to keep him here?”

  “I think it would be safer to have him under my eye.”

  “What about Mr Lakesby?” asked Emily. “What are you going to tell him?”

  “Nothing for the present. He’s agreed not to turn Tom over to the authorities. In any case, I’ve got nothing but suspicion at present.”

  “While we’re on the subject of Sir Robert’s murder, miss–”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I saw young Betsy Hill this morning. Cook had an extra loaf and some fruit, so I thought I’d take it down to them.”

  “Yes?”

  Emily hesitated. “Well, Betsy mentioned her father was away from home most of the night Sir Robert was killed.”

  Georgiana mused on the possible significance of this. Joe Hill’s hatred of the dead man had been open and unashamed. Would this have been the case if he had carried out the murder? Georgiana found herself wondering if there was more concerning him than the problems caused by the poor state of his cottage. She was torn between sympathy and suspicion.

  “I do feel for Joe Hill,” she said at last. “He has every reason for hating Sir Robert.” She paused. “I wonder if he could have done it. I would never have thought of him as a killer, but I suppose, given the right provocation...”

  “He’s certainly had that,” observed Emily. “If the problems with his cottage were the cause of his wife’s death…”

  Georgiana looked towards her maid, her expression thoughtful. “Emily, do you have some reason to imagine they weren’t?”

  “Oh, no,” said Emily, “it’s just...” She paused, considering how best to put her thoughts into words. “It’s just that none of Sir Robert’s cottages are in good repair. He’s always been neglectful. Why would Mrs Hill suddenly get ill and die like that? I’m not saying she didn’t but, well, it seems a bit odd when it’s not happened to anyone else.”

  “That is an excellent point. But even if it wasn’t the cause of her illness, such an atmosphere can’t have been conducive to recovery.”

  “No,” said Emily.

  Georgiana sat thinking. “The damp in that cottage is quite bad. I wonder if it is worse than any of the others.”

  “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to complicate things.”

  “Don’t worry, Emily, you were right to mention it. Joe Hill was far from being the only one with a grudge against Sir Robert. However, I find myself wondering whether it could have originated before his wife’s illness.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes,” said Georgiana thoughtfully. “If Mr Hill already had reason to be angry with Sir Robert, what could be more natural than to blame him for the death of his wife?”

  Emily considered this, nodding slowly.

  “I did hear Mrs Hill used to clean house for Sir Robert. Perhaps something happened at that time?”

  “Perhaps,” said Georgiana. “I wonder if there’s any way of finding out.” She sighed. “Neither must we forget Sir Brandon, the despair of matchmaking mamas. When he mentioned his father’s will, he said he would manage and always does. He seemed quite proud of himself, as if he’d come up with some ingenious idea.”

  “Perhaps he’s a highwayman,” Emily said lightly.

  Georgiana smiled. “The thought did cross my mind. Can you imagine his father’s reaction?” She continued in more serious vein. “He seemed quite unconcerned about his father’s death, and he’s showing interest in the girl Sir Robert was proposing to take as a second wife.” She frowned. “I thought Louisa passed him a note at the theatre, but it has since occurred to me that perhaps she gave him some money.”

  Emily looked surprised at this. “I don’t suppose her ladyship or Mr Lakesby would be too pleased about that.”

  “I imagine not,” said Georgiana, “particularly if she does it often.” She paused. “In fact, if Mr Lakesby has control of Louisa’s inheritance until she comes of age or marries, perhaps it would suit him to keep her single.”

  Emily’s eyes widened.

  “Helping himself to her inheritance?”

  “Possibly,” said Georgiana. “From what I’ve seen of him, I wouldn’t have thought it, but one never knows. He may have debts of his own, perhaps thought a little borrowing from his cousin’s inheritance would help, to be returned later. Louisa is young, plenty of time to pay it back.”

  “So Mr Lakesby may not have been too happy about Lady Winters wanting her daughter married so soon. I must admit, I should not like to make an enemy of him. I hear he’s a good shot.”

  “Oh?” Georgiana looked inquiringly at her maid.

  “Apparently,” Emily said with casual unconcern. “There’s a story he hit a diamond out of a playing card for a wager. I don’t know how much truth is in it.”

  “Which card?” Georgiana could not resist asking.

  “I don’t know. A five, I think.”

  Georgiana smiled. “A colourful tale.”

  “Oh, I know, but I still think he’s not a man to be crossed,” replied Emily.

  “If Louisa had married Sir Robert, I wonder how he would have treated her,” mused Georgiana.

  “He might have spoilt her with trumpery bits of jewellery,” grinned Emily.

  “So he might,” responded Georgiana. “Hideous heirlooms which would not cost anything.” She glanced towards a clock. “It is getting late. I had better see how my cousin is. Emily, I think I will go to Amanda’s party tomorrow.”

  Even with her decision made about the party, Georgiana found her mind more focused on Sir Robert Foster’s funeral. The following day, she waited impatiently for the return of Horton, who had accepted as natural the request to represent the household. She allowed some time for him to refresh himself with some soup and a mug of ale before sending for him.

  “Did it all go smoothly?” Georgiana asked.

  A quickly suppressed flash of surprise crossed the butler’s countenance, but he responded in an impassive tone. “Yes, miss.”

  “Were there many people there?” Georgiana inquired as casually as she could.

  “A fair number, miss.”

  “Really?” Georgiana had not expected this. Sir Robert was hardly a man who would be extensively mourned.

  “I believe most were members of his household, miss,” continued Horton. “His son was there, of course. Lord Bartholomew Parker and Mr Lakesby were present, as was Mr Grey.”

  “Lord Bartholomew Parker?” asked Georgiana in astonishment.

  “Yes, miss.”

  “And Mr Lakesby?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Georgiana sat dumbfounded for a moment. She became aware of Horton watching her and roused herself enough to give him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Horton. That will be all.”

  “Very good, miss.”

  When Horton departed, Georgiana lapsed into thought. Mr Lakesby and Lord Bartholomew Parker at Sir Robert Foster’s funeral? Why? Edward’s presence also came as a surprise, but knowing his sense of duty and correctness, this was more easily explained. It seemed unlikely Lakesby would have allowed himself to be persuaded by his aunt. Lord Bartholomew Parker was even mo
re of a mystery. Georgiana had no idea he was even acquainted with Sir Robert.

  Georgiana was still pondering this point as Emily put the final touches to her hair for the evening. She had not seen Edward since their quarrel at Mrs Leeman’s soirée several days earlier. She knew neither of them would refer to the incident, and Selina would certainly also avoid doing so.

  Edward’s manner was a little stiff as he greeted Georgiana, although he unbent sufficiently to give her a kiss on the cheek. Lord Bartholomew flitted among the guests gorgeously arrayed in a waistcoat of fuchsia and gold which contrasted outrageously with his pale knee-breeches. His shirt-points were starched just enough to prevent any independent movement of his head, and his cravat was arranged in the extravagant style of the Waterfall.

  Looking around the room, Georgiana caught sight of Louisa, standing near her mother’s elbow. The sight of Mr Lakesby approaching his aunt and cousin with refreshments prompted Georgiana to glance towards her brother. He and Amanda were still occupied in greeting their guests. Georgiana wondered about Edward’s reaction when Lakesby presented himself at the door. Amanda would be warm and welcoming, of course. However, Georgiana had no doubt her brother would be seething inside, especially if Lakesby, as she suspected, had walked in coolly, showing no doubt of his welcome.

  Georgiana cast her eye towards Lakesby again. He was occupied in talking to his cousin, but seemed aware of Georgiana’s glance and looked towards her. The slow smile he gave her showed more in his eyes than on his face and held a conspiratorial air. She looked away quickly and found Lord Bartholomew at her elbow. He handed her a glass of ratafia.

  “I cannot believe that man had the impertinence to show his face here,” said Lord Bartholomew.

  “Is there any reason he should not?” said Georgiana.

  “Well, I mean to say…”

  “What do you mean to say, Lord Bartholomew?” said Georgiana, surprised at the note of challenge in her own voice. “I imagine Lady Winters and her daughter needed an escort. I see nothing improper in Mr Lakesby obliging them.”