He seemed confident that such a disenchantment was likely, but Jessica was not so certain, and when she saw Andrew the following day, the lad showed not the slightest sign of weakening in his admiration for his courageous princess.
“I have been walking in the garden with Kara,” he confessed when he entered the garden saloon to find Jessica reading her book. “You may think she ought to have had a maid with her, but I assure you that I would never step beyond the bounds of propriety with her, Miss Sutton-Drew. Nor would she allow such a thing. And I know I ought to have come round properly to the front entrance from the stables, but I am beginning to feel quite at home here, you know. Pray do not hesitate to tell me, however, if you believe I have erred.”
Jessica smiled at him, trying to remember him as a cocksure highwayman and failing. At the moment he looked so much the beseeching little boy. “You are welcome no matter what door you choose to use, Andrew,” she told him. “I know that both my sister and brother-in-law are pleased to have you treat their home as your own.” That was perfectly true. Lord Gordon had been congratulating himself again only that morning upon his good fortune in having had his coach held up by a wealthy young man who deposited beautiful and no-doubt wealthy princesses upon his doorstep. Her eyes gleamed in appreciation of the memory. “Where is Kara now?” she asked.
“Oh, she came inside by way of the hall door. I think she was a trifle weary. She may be worried too, you know.”
“Oh, how so?”
“Well, when I escorted Ling Chow back to Mousehole yesterday, he told me some dashed appalling things. Did you know that the princess has no rights to speak of under English law? If she were a young child, she could seek the crown’s protection and thus be accorded the rights of any English subject, but she is not a child, and those men from the slave ship are probably searching for her right now. If they were to take her back to the ship, there is no law that would stop them.”
“Dear me, how unfortunate.”
“You may well say so, ma’am. And Ling Chow says the princess’s father is the wealthiest man in all Malaysia. She is accustomed to being treated with the greatest civility and respect. I say, do you suppose I ought to marry her?”
“What?” Jessica nearly choked, but the boy was in earnest. “On no account must you do such a thing,” she told him.
“Well, I think it may be my duty, you know. I found her, and I ought to protect her, particularly if there is no practicable way by which she might safely be restored to her family. Bestowing my name upon her would turn the trick though, would it not? Lord Gordon said it would, when I asked him about it. If she were my wife, she would have air the protection English law can afford her.”
“Andrew, did Ling Chow suggest this course to you?”
“Not at all. That is, he did say that the only way she could become an English subject would be if she were to marry one, but he certainly didn’t suggest that I marry her. I thought of that myself. By Jove, Miss Jessica, I wish I could discuss the matter with her. I have been teaching her English, you know, but she still cannot carry on a proper conversation, and I don’t understand a word of her language.”
“None of us does,” Jessica said with a wry twist of her lips. “Look here, Andrew, before you discuss that subject again with his lordship or anyone else, I think you should ask your uncle what he thinks about it.”
“Well, I don’t think he will like the notion at all, but if you think I should discuss it with him, I will. However, ma’am,” he added more firmly, “despite what he says, if I come to believe that nothing else will protect her from being carried off again by those slavers, I shall have to do my duty by her.”
During the next few days Jessica racked her brain for a way by which the young man could be brought to see his princess in a truer light. At first, she placed her dependence upon Sir Brian, thinking he would succeed easily in convincing Andrew that there was no need to marry Kara. However, Sir Brian failed and, according to Andrew, merely lost his temper when the suggestion was made to him and roundly informed his nephew that the princess was a fraud. Since he still had no clear-cut evidence to provide, however, Andrew flatly disbelieved him, telling Jessica it was absurd to expect Ling Chow—a mere foreigner, after all—to have a better notion of geography than either she or Andrew himself had, or to assume that there was not more than one style of slave ship sailing the seas. His allegiance to Kara thus became stronger than ever, and Jessica realized that it would take a concerted effort now to persuade him of his error.
The assizes were still in session, and she saw nothing of Sir Brian, which was frustrating in the extreme, since she would have very much enjoyed telling him what she thought of the way he had mishandled Andrew. If Cyril was actually encouraging the lad to consider marriage, she knew it would take a subtle approach indeed to convince him that Kara was a fraud. It would be particularly helpful, she decided, if Andrew were to be the one to expose the Malaysian plot. In order to accomplish that end, she determined to throw them together as much as possible, knowing it would be extremely difficult for the young woman to maintain her imposture if she were forced to be continually in his company. She told Andrew, as well, that he ought to invite Ling Chow to call as often as possible so that he might communicate better with his princess. Andrew agreed with alacrity, and in the days that followed, Jessica began to note the signs of strain on the lovely young girl’s face. Ling Chow, too, showed a tendency to speak more curtly and, she noticed, a trifle more grammatically. If anyone ought to notice a supping accent, she told herself with a mischievous smile, it would surely be Andrew, who as a would-be highwayman had had similar problems himself not long since.
The assizes were adjourned at last, but several days passed before Sir Brian came to call, and when he did, he chose a moment when Ling Chow, Kara, and Andrew were all in the garden. Jessica and Lady Gordon were enjoying a comfortable coze in the cheerful morning room when he was announced, and they both went down to the drawing room to greet him.
“Where is Gordon?” he asked without ceremony.
“Why, I daresay he is in his bookroom, sir,” her ladyship replied. “He left word that he is not to be disturbed, but I can send Borthwick to fetch him if you wish to see him particularly.”
“I think he will wish to hear what I’ve got to say,” Sir Brian told her, smiling slightly. He turned to Jessica. “Is Andrew here? He said he meant to come.”
“Yes, they are in the garden.”
“The ‘princess,’ too?”
“And Ling Chow.”
“Delightful. Please, my lady, ask his lordship to join us in the garden saloon.” Moments later, Lord Gordon joined the others, and Sir Brian greeted him with a brief nod. “Good day, my lord. I doubt you would relish missing this. The others will be in from the garden in a trice. The admirable Borthwick sent a footman to fetch them.”
“Upon my word, sir, is there to be an announcement forthcoming? Young Andrew mentioned his intentions to me, but I didn’t know he’d popped the question already. Dashed fine choice, if you ask me. A real princess, and wealthy to boot if that Ling Chow has his facts straight.”
Sir Brian’s expression hardened noticeably, but his attention was diverted when Andrew, Kara, and Ling Chow entered from the garden. He turned toward them, his lips firming into a straight line as he watched their approach.
Andrew eyes him warily, and there was a touch of defiance in his voice when he greeted him. “The footman said you wanted to speak to us.”
“I do, indeed, lad, but first there are some introductions to be made. I believe you are slightly, but only slightly, acquainted with Miss Mary Wilcox of Witheridge.” He gestured toward Kara, who gasped, then collapsed into the nearest chair, clutching at her bosom and staring at him in dismay.
Andrew’s eyes widened with shock. “No! That cannot be. It cannot!”
“It is quite true,” his uncle informed him flatly. “Your princess is no more than a wench from Devonshire looking to snare a rich y
oung husband. She and her cohorts, such as your friend Ling Chow, here…” He broke off long enough to turn a sharp look upon the fellow. “His real name, by the way, is Charlie Dawson, and he is an erstwhile miner from the same general area as Miss Wilcox. The two of them, along with a third man named Richards, tried to pull off the same stunt over in Almondsbury only a month ago. I have spoken to people there who will quite willingly identify her, including the parents of another young fool who would have married her in order to offer the protection of his name against her mythical slavers. I’ve talked to members of her family as well. Your princess is unmasked, Andrew.”
“Well, upon my word!” exclaimed Lord Gordon. “To have taken us all in like that. ’Tis a clever piece of work you’ve done, sir, to unmask these villains. To think the princess you rescued was naught but a common Devonshire wench, after all, young Andrew. Fair gammoned us all, she did. Lucky for you your uncle kept his wits about him, ain’t it?”
Flushing with mortification, Andrew glared wretchedly at Lord Gordon and the others, then turned on his heels and strode out of the room.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Lady Gordon compassionately. “The poor boy.”
“He’ll get over it,” Sir Brian said in a harsh voice.
“Will you take this pair in charge?” Lord Gordon asked hopefully.
“There is no charge. As yet, I fear they’ve broken no law. However,” Sir Brian added, turning a gimlet eye upon the hapless girl and her cohort, “I would strongly advise you both to have a care about playing this game in future. Others might not be so lenient toward you as we are prepared to be.”
“Kin we go?” the erstwhile Ling Chow demanded in a surly tone.
“You may.”
“Come on then, Molly,” the man said, taking her arm in a bruising grip, hauling her unceremoniously out of the chair, and fairly pushing her out of the room ahead of him.
Jessica turned to face Sir Brian. “May I have a private word with you?” she asked in chilled tones.
“Of course.” His good humor seemed to be restored by the departure of Mary Wilcox and Charlie Dawson, and he returned her cool look with a smile. Then, turning to the others, he begged their indulgence. “If you will excuse us,” he said smoothly, “Miss Jessica and I will be in the garden.”
Lord Gordon gave beaming approval, and her ladyship’s eyes twinkled, but Jessica’s expression did not soften. For once, even Sir Brian’s nearness as he leaned past her to open the French doors did not affect her. He walked beside her buoyantly, his expression one of satisfaction. Clearly he was pleased with himself and expected applause and perhaps even a modicum of gratitude for his efforts. But Jessica had no intention of accommodating him. She was furious, and she waited only until they had reached the bottom of the terrace steps before rounding on him.
“How could you do such a thing?” she demanded.
Sir Brian regarded her quizzically. “I told you I meant to expose that lot for the villains they are. I thought I had done well to unmask them so quickly, considering how crowded my calendar has been of late.”
“But to have presented the facts of the matter in such a public way! To have humiliated Andrew like that. It was cruel, sir. I did not realize you could be so insensitive.”
He frowned, taken aback by her criticism, and a look of resentment crossed his face. “Andrew will recover, and I could see no reason, once I had the facts, not to make them known. I am sorry if I offended your sensibility, ma’am. I seem to do that rather often. First with my estates in the
Indies and my mines here, then by helping you out on the road, and now with my handling of this little affair. No doubt you would have managed things with far more dexterity if I had just kept out of it.”
“Well, I was handling them with dexterity until you chose to lose your idiotish temper and rip up at him over his wishing to marry that stupid girl,” she informed him bluntly. “And I believed I had made a recovery, too, despite the awkwardness occasioned by your precipitate disclosure of the fraud. He was well on the way to discovering for himself that his princess was no such thing. But that is beside the point now,” she added hotly. “I should certainly have chosen a more delicate way to disclose to him the facts you discovered than to blurt them out in front of Cyril and Georgie and the rest. There was no need to humiliate Andrew like that in front of all of us. He is young and very sensitive.”
“Then the sooner he grows up, the better it will be for him.” His resentment was nearly tactile, and Jessica fought an impulse to take a step away from him. Suddenly he shrugged. “Perhaps Andrew is not the only one who needs to grow up. Good day to you, Miss Sutton-Drew.”
To her frustrated astonishment, he turned his back upon her and strode angrily away. There being nothing she could do to stop him, Jessica walked slowly up to the house, but she could not pretend to be very surprised when she heard from Lord Gordon a day or two later that Sir Brian had departed for London, taking his nephew with him.
6
FOR A WEEK LONGER Jessica kicked her heels in Cornwall, but her thoughts were often in London with Sir Brian. She found herself wondering what he was doing at a particular moment and whether or not he was still angry with her. Her own anger had dissipated very soon after she had returned to the house from the garden.
She still believed that she had been right to take him to task for his ham-handed mismanagement of a delicate situation, but she had learned in the short time she had known him that he was unaccustomed to criticism of any kind, particularly from a mere female—and one, moreover, whom he no doubt believed to take the same delight in spurning his amorous advances as she took in criticizing his management of everything from his West Indian estates and West Country mines to his nephew’s sensibilities. Perhaps she had been too critical, she told herself. She had certainly let her feelings about persons who exploited other persons be known. But then, when he had unmasked the pair of villains who had been exploiting them all, she had criticized his handling of the matter instead of congratulating him upon his successful investigation.
He had clearly expected to please her, perhaps even to impress her. Was it any wonder, then, that he had resented her displeasure? As the days passed slowly by, she discovered that she missed his company. And Andrew’s too, of course, she told herself firmly. But after all, she had seen a good deal of Andrew the previous week. Of his uncle she had seen nothing at all until he had walked into Gordon Hall to rout the would-be princess. Remembering the moment his name had been announced that day, Jessica remembered, too, the excitement she had felt and the way he had smiled that gentle little smile at her when she had walked into the drawing room with her sister.
Giving herself an admonitory shake each time that particular line of thought plagued her, Jessica would firmly put all notions of Sir Brian from her mind and plunge more heartily than ever into the preparations for removal to the metropolis.
The day of departure arrived at last. Lord Gordon fussed pompously all through breakfast, and Lady Gordon wondered vaguely from time to time what there was of any importance that might have been left undone. When she wondered for the third time whether her woman might not have forgotten to put her favorite French perfume into her dressing case, Jessica laughed at her.
“Don’t put yourself in a taking, Georgie. Your dresser is a very efficient woman, and has very likely remembered a good many things that have never so much as crossed your mind.”
“Very true,” Lord Gordon said testily as he forked a pile of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He chewed quickly, swallowed, then observed that if anything had been forgotten, a replacement could always be purchased in London, like as not. “Daresay you’ll be wasting the ready as you generally do, my love, and won’t wear half of the stuff you’re taking with you. Upon my word, I’ve already ordered two coaches for the baggage alone.”
“Well, you might just as well order up a third, Cyril,” Jessica told him, “not for baggage but for servants, for Georgie decided this morning that, besid
es her dresser, your man, and my Mellin, she wants to take two of the housemaids and the youngest footman along.”
“Upon my word,” his lordship muttered, “we’re going to look like an army caravan before you’ve done. That’s five carriages, plus our own.”
“We could put black plumes up and hire a mute and pretend we’re a funeral cortege,” Jessica said wickedly.
“Jess, don’t even suggest such a thing,” her sister expostulated. “I’m sure even to mention funerals must be bad luck.”
Jessica apologized, saying she didn’t know what sort of giddiness had overcome her, and applied her attention to her breakfast. Later, in the lead coach, however, she found her spirits rising with every passing mile. Never since the days of her come-out had she looked forward to her
London visit with such enthusiasm. Since Lord Gordon did not believe in rapid travel, however, the journey occupied four days’ time. They stopped the first night in Exeter, the second in Salisbury, and the third at a charming little inn in Woking, but by early afternoon of the fourth day, the coach was rolling along under warm, sunny skies through the cobbled streets of London. They traveled through Knightsbridge, up Piccadilly to Bond Street, then along Conduit Street to George Street, and finally drew up before Lady Susan Peel’s tall, elegantly appointed house on the southwest corner of Hanover Square.
The house was built of brown brick with red-brick lintels and window dressings, and a roof of glazed tile. Its porch and cornices displayed magnificent Portland stonework; however, the main architectural feature of Lady Susan’s house as well as that of its neighbors was the way the windows of each floor were made to look as though they were connected to those above and below in long vertical strips by means of connecting “aprons” of rusticated stone. The windows themselves were glazed with Crown glass from Newcastle, which had a sheen on the surface and a faint bluish tinge that gave them the look of polished mirrors.
The Battling Bluestocking Page 8
