“But Robert.”
“Shush.” Atwater stood and turned his back on Carlisle, who appeared to be ignorant of what had just taken place.
“W-wait. Gentlemen.” Carlisle’s mouth widened to a garish grin. His voice softened to a wheedling tone. “Maybe, ah, maybe I can make an exception. Just this one time, you know. Since we’re practically kin.”
Atwater turned slightly. “I’m listening, Your Grace.”
“I’d be willing to come down, just a little mind you, in price. Of course, I would ask that I be recompensed in some way.” He finished his brandy and poured another.
“And in what way would this compensation materialize? What do you have in mind, Your Grace?”
“A, a maid perhaps? That little Susan my cousin employs. I can think of many good uses for a young lady such as she is.” He raised his eyebrows and took another pinch of snuff.
“You’re suggesting I sell you my fiancée’s maid for a reduction of the sale price on Wimpole Street? Why you …” Before Atwater or Carlisle knew it, Tom had pulled the Duke, by the front of his shirt, out of the chair he’d been sitting on. Carlisle was pushed up against the expensively papered wall, Tom’s hand encircling his neck keeping him pinned, feet dangling. Atwater went to the pocket doors of the lounge and pulled them closed.
Carlisle looked over Tom’s shoulder at Atwater. “Uh, please gentlemen. There, there must be a solution to our dilemma.”
“Will you come down in price or no? That’s the offer we’re making. You can come down in price, no maid to take back to Scotland. Or.” Atwater stopped for effect.
“Or? What?” Carlisle sputtered. He looked very frightened. Just the way Tom and Atwater wanted him to look. “Or what,” Carlisle choked out.
“Or, I suppose you shall suffer the consequences, Your Grace.” Tom’s face was leaned in a mere half inch from the Duke’s.
“I will alert every newspaper in London and Edinburgh,” Carlisle spat through clenched teeth.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Atwater stated with finality.
Tom released Carlisle, and the Duke fell to the floor. He stumbled to regain his composure and stood, his hand rubbing the front of his neck where his cravat tie had pressed into his throat.
“Now. I, as Lord Thomas’ lawyer, have written up a bill of sale.” Atwater spoke as if nothing untoward had just taken place, “The Wimpole Street House will be sold, as is, to Lord Thomas Radcliffe for the cost of 1500 pounds. You will sign the document, Your Grace. Now.”
“That’s highway robbery, you … you cad. You have no sense of decorum. You are not a gentleman for all that I must refer to you as Your Grace.” Carlisle downed another glass of his brandy and reached for a pen while grumbling under his breath. “Highway robbery.”
“It is nothing of the sort, Your Grace. It is business.” Tom sneered at the Duke. “I am a businessman above all.”
“And while we’re at it. I’m prepared to offer you 3000 for Pinebrook Manor. Not a penny more,” Atwater countered.
“You might persuade me to sell cheap on the London house, but the country estate? Never. It’s 4000 pounds or no sale.”
“Very well. Tom?”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Let us go.”
“Have you finished your business? I thought you had a mind to have Pinebrook Manor.” Tom looked confused.
Atwater grabbed Tom’s arm. “Dan is waiting.” They left the lounge and went to the mews.
“Robert? What was that? I thank you heartily for securing the sale of the townhouse, but what about Pinebrook Manor? I thought you wanted it for Phoebe. Will you not negotiate with the man about it?”
“He’ll come around.”
“What makes you so sure? Do you think we scared him that much?”
“Yes, I do. But I have also secured a promise from each person Carlisle will approach to sell the estate to. No one will buy the place, even if he comes down in price.”
“You’ve secured promises from people not to buy Pinebrook? How do you know the men involved will stand by their word?”
“Let’s just say that while I don’t indulge in the ton’s favourite pastime of gossip, I hear many things. And I happen to have information, which I’ve verified, about the shenanigans of each man I spoke with regarding the matter. Damaging information.”
“That sounds like a possible way to get yourself killed, Robert.”
“Ah, but you miss the point, Tom. Each individual believes himself to be the only one I have incriminating facts on. There’s not a one among them who is going to discuss how many times a week they visit the Temple of Venus. Despite the fact that they all see each other when out whoring, they never discuss it. Not with each other, not with anyone.”
“If Carlisle goes below 1500, someone will jump at the sale.”
“No.” Atwater smiled and shook his head.
“What makes you so sure? You know the haute ton can be very fickle.”
“No one will purchase Pinebrook. I’ve put out the rumour that the house is over infested with rats. Not the usual rat one might see here or there in a corridor or a corner of the buttery. But everywhere. Running rampant through the kitchen and the gardens. When Carlisle sees he has no buyer, and hears the rumour, he’ll come back and take whatever I offer, if only to get rid of the place.”
Tom laughed.“Very well, then. You’ve succeeded in convincing me. And as for the Wimpole Street house, I owe you a debt of gratitude, Your Grace.” Tom smiled at his friend, “I must say, I don’t know if I’m impressed or frightened by your shrewdness.”
“Be both, my friend.” Atwater winked as they boarded the carriage that would take them back to Regent Street.
*******
“Oh la! Mary, that style is perfect for you!” Phoebe gushed over the new pattern with a lower form than in recent years. It created a complementary silhouette for Mary’s figure showing off her tiny, even without stays, waist.
“I adore it.” Mary danced around in front of the huge looking glass that reflected her entire image. “See how the skirt moves. It’s so lovely for dancing.”
“It looks lovely. Now, what about fabrics?”
The dressmaker’s apprentice who’d fitted Mary with the mock up dress appeared with an armful of books of fabric swatches. Phoebe and Mary sat while tea was brought to them by another apprentice. They could peruse the book for as long as they wanted.
The dressmaker would order the fabrics when Mary had made her choices. And that was just for frocks which covered every event from walking, riding, and visiting, to simple morning attire and full evening dress.
Mary was also in need of gloves, stockings, and garters, chemises, corsets, shoes, shawls, and bonnets.
“Oh dear. I’ve never had so many frocks, and I had more than most when I was a maid.” She raised her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t know what I’ll do with so much finery.”
“Mary, do you remember our talk about being a lady?”
“Of course I do, Phoebe.”
“There’s one thing I’d like to work on with you. You are a lady now. You must never make reference to having been a maid. Never. Of course, the ton will talk about it behind your back. But, they will never ask you to your face. In that case, you never need to fib about where you are from. And, quite frankly, everyone knows you were my maid. You must never make reference to it again. Do you understand? I mean do you understand why?”
“Yes. I understand. I forgot in my excitement. This is so overwhelming! But Phoebe ... I’m not ashamed of having been a maid. I had an opportunity when I was ten to be taken into a nunnery. The kind that caters to men who prefer girls to women. Virgins come at a high price in a place like that. Very high, I was told. I might have made a small fortune selling my maidenhood and my body. While that might work for some, it’s not something I was willing to do. I’ve kept my honour, despite the fact that my fingernails are broken and my hands are work worn.”
“Oh, dear Mar
y.” Phoebe put her arm around her friend and pulled her close. “I don’t imply that you should be ashamed of your beginnings. You just don’t need to air the laundry so to speak.” She smiled and lifted Mary’s chin with her index finger. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I do understand, Phoebe. I will make no mention of it again.” She smiled. “I keep forgetting that the good fortune I’ve stumbled upon is actually mine. However, you need to know something, Phoebe. I would marry Lord Thomas even if he was a stable boy.”
“I know you would, Mary. But he’s not a stable boy. He’s a very wealthy man, from a family of the four hundred. And he happens to be madly in love with none other than your beautiful self.”
The two fell into mirthful laughter, Phoebe’s arm around Mary’s shoulders. They waited at the side of the street for Jimmy to come with the cabriolet, and as they giggled, the sound of hooves came to Phoebe’s ears. She glanced up to pull Mary away from the path of the oncoming horses.
Seeing that it wasn’t Jimmy, Phoebe looked at who was in the carriage. Her eyes met with a woman’s, and she gasped. She knew those eyes. Her own eyes closed and opened as if in slow motion, and the carriage floated by. Could the woman inside possibly have been who Phoebe thought it was?
Mary came back to herself from laughing and saw that her friend had grown pale. “Phoebe, are you unwell? You look as if you’d just seen a ghost.”
“I may have, Mary. I just may have.”
Chapter 12
Mary and Lord Thomas were married two weeks after Phoebe had taken Mary shopping. The seamstresses had worked around the clock to have the marriage dress and enough trousseau items finished by the wedding day.
“Mary. You look radiant. I’m so very happy for you.” Phoebe hugged her friend. “And Tom. Handsome devil. You are a lucky man indeed.”
She winked at Tom, and then scanned the room looking for Atwater. As she did, her gaze captured a flutter of lilac silk disappear around a doorway. She blinked once then slightly shook her head to ground herself.
“Phoebe? Would you like a glass of ratafia?” Tom and Mary looked at her questioningly.
Phoebe looked directly at the couple. “La! Ratafia! Lovely idea, Tom.” She, once again, looked around the room. Why did she have an uneasy feeling?
“May I have this dance, My Lady?”
Phoebe turned to behold Atwater who looked positively dashing. She smiled. “My soon-to-be husband is the most handsome man in attendance. No offence to present company.” She winked at Mary and Tom.
“My future wife is as a lovely, fragrant blossom, second to none in beauty, except on this day. Mary’s wedding day.” He took Mary’s hand and brought it to his lips. Then he led Phoebe to the dance floor.
Once again, from the corner of her eye, Phoebe thought she saw a wisp of lilac. And once again she shook her head, blinked, and looked back to where she thought she’d seen something, all the while never missing a step of the waltz she was enjoying with Atwater.
The music ended. The dancers dispersed, and servers with silver trays made their ways through the rooms to deliver ratafia, brandy, wine, snuff, and cigars to the guests. Phoebe noticed someone talking with Mary and Tom as she and Atwater headed back to the newlyweds. Someone in a lilac silk frock.
Phoebe and Atwater stepped up behind the woman who turned just as Phoebe saw the look on Mary’s face. Though it was discreet, Phoebe had seen enough. She knew that whoever the woman was, who spoke with the couple, she wasn’t welcome.
Who could it be? A friend from, oh dear, a domestic from a house where Mary had worked would get the crowd talking. So far Phoebe had only heard a few snippets of gossip about Mary’s former life.
In actuality, the gossip about Mary had a ring of envy to it. The help wishing and hoping that if such fortune had befallen one of their own once, then why not twice? The gossip also bore a sliver of suspicion and jealousy. What if one of the ton’s Dukes or Marquesses were to become enamoured of a serving girl? If it happened once, it could happen again.
“Lady Phoebe. How lovely to see you again.” The woman in lilac spoke, and Phoebe heard the words as if she were at the bottom of a well. She felt slightly nauseated as her practiced smile took over. The right words came forth from her mouth. And she maintained this stance for the rest of the party, checking on Mary from time to time, and trying to look as if she was enjoying herself.
*******
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Phoebe and Atwater were in the sitting room after all the guests had left or retired. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go to your chamber. It’s the third door down the fourth floor hall. It’s private. With Tom’s entire family here, there aren’t any other options.”
“Where are Tom and Mary?”
“Well, my father’s former rooms of course. Lord Thomas’ bedchamber.”
“And you’re sleeping in your chamber from childhood?” The two were ascending the stairs to the third floor.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then your mother’s chambers are empty. Are they not?”
“My mother’s bedchamber now belongs to Lady Mary Radcliffe, Your Grace. Tom and Mary were so nervous today, they made a few errors with the sleeping arrangements. I’m sorry, but you’re on the fourth floor.” They’d reached Phoebe’s bedchamber, and Atwater opened the door for his betrothed.
“Is that so? Could they, perhaps, excuse me if I were to pass on the fourth floor, and instead come into your bedchamber, My Lady?” Atwater chuckled at the little pucker that wrinkled Phoebe’s forehead.
“Never fear, fair lady. I will wait until the proper nuptials take place.” He kissed her on the end of her nose. “Now, please talk to me. Tell me what it is you don’t want to talk about. Maybe I can help?”
“Very well ... Maybe you can help, but I don’t believe you can. I wanted, Your Grace, to ask you if you saw who the woman in lilac was. She was quite stylish. I didn’t get a good look at her. She was right in front of me, but my vision swam. I was concerned because Mary looked upset.”
“Now that you’ve refreshed my memory, I did see the lady in question, however not her face. So we have a mystery. Does Mary or Tom know who it was?”
“I believe so, but I couldn’t get either one alone to discuss it. She seemed to always be near where I was. I would see her dress, but when I looked to see her, she would be nowhere.”
“I don’t understand, my darling. Mary knows who the lady in question was, but you don’t? Must you concern yourself with this? Now?” He kissed her forehead.
“Robert. I am most serious.” She giggled in spite of herself. “You must stop.”
“Stop?” He nuzzled her neck.
“This instant.”
“Very well, my dear. I promise to behave.” He straightened up and took a step back from her. “I’ll never understand why I didn’t whisk you away to elope with me the day I knew you returned my feelings.”
“We’ll be together soon, love.”
“I know, and you grow more beautiful to me each day. I cannot believe how fortunate I am. But it’s late. Clear your head of worry about the mysterious woman in lilac and sleep well. The wedding breakfast is in a few hours.” He kissed her cheek and turned to walk back along the corridor to the servants’ staircase that led to the fourth floor.
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 71
