Letters to a Lady

by Joan Smith

  What she had seen of the house and servants impressed her. Harrup’s dining with the lord chancellor impressed her. Her courage was beginning to fail, and she took herself firmly by the scruff of the neck. She would not apologize for barging in uninvited. It was Harrup’s fault that they were in this pickle in the first place.

  At ten-thirty Harrup’s tread was heard in the hallway. Diana hastened to the door of the morning parlor but decided to wait and let Harrup come to her there. She listened impatiently as he handed his coat and hat to the butler.

  “Anything happen while I was away?” Harrup asked. “I trust you got Tantes Gertrude and Millicent blasted off.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “Good! Thank God for large favors. Bring me a very large brandy and my slippers to the study.”

  “You have company, milord,” the butler murmured apologetically.

  “At this hour of the night? Hell and damnation, who did you let in behind my back, Stoker?”

  “A Miss Beecham and Miss Peabody.”

  “You know my views on harboring country neighbors.”

  “They said they were your cousins, sir. Here at your express request, the young lady said.”

  “She always was a forward wench, but this goes beyond anything. Why didn’t they go to a hotel? Very well, where are they?” he demanded in a gruff voice.

  “The young one’s waiting for you in the morning parlor.’’

  “Send for her. I’ll be in my study. And bring the bottle of brandy, Stoker.”

  “Perhaps wine for the young lady, sir?”

  “No, don’t encourage them.”

  Upon hearing this rude speech and demeaning description of herself, Miss Beecham returned to the table. With a hand trembling in anger she poured herself an unwanted cup of coffee. When she was requested to follow Stoker, she smiled coolly. “Please send Lord Harrup to me. As you can see, I am not quite finished dinner. Thank you, Stoker.”

  “His lordship—”

  “Immediately, if you please,” she said, and speared him with a shot from her sharp eyes.

  “Yes, Miss Beecham.” Stoker bowed and returned to the study.

  For some five minutes Diana waited, trying to catch a few words of the raised voice that shouted from the study. She was unconcernedly stirring her coffee when a stiff-legged Harrup finally entered the room. She had not often seen her country neighbor rigged out in city evening wear. He was an impressive sight. A tall gentleman, well built, with a crown of dark hair and dark eyes. Diana had no objection to a rugged face and weathered complexion. Were it not for the sardonic set of his mouth and the arrogant stride, one would have called him handsome.

  Harrup looked as if he wanted to wring her neck, but he made the effort to appear civil. “Good evening, missie. What brings you to London?” he asked.

  “Harrup.” She nodded. “Pray join me and have some coffee. And don’t feel obliged to apologize for not realizing I was still at the table,” she added, meeting his glare with one of her own.

  He strolled in and sat across from her. Lamplight flickered on his swarthy cheeks. “I didn’t even realize you were in London. How should I have known you did me the honor of visiting me?” he asked.

  Diana read the glint of anger in his eyes and prepared to set him down. “No doubt you are a little curious to learn why Peabody and I are here,” she said.

  “I am extremely curious.”

  “Curiosity has always been associated with cats—it seems it afflicts tomcats as well as females. Our visit has to do with your chère amie, Mrs. Whitby.”

  A spasm quivered at the back of his jaw. “I beg your pardon?” he asked haughtily.

  “Well you might, when you hear what Peabody and I have been through this day. As if wandering into your ladybird’s nest were not bad enough!”

  Harrup jumped up from his seat. His eyes wore the look of a man who is guilty all right, but hopes he might wiggle out unscathed. “What, if anything, are you talking about?” he demanded.

  “Mrs. Whitby. It is for you to decide what, if anything, the name denotes.”

  Harrup stuck out his chin, straightened his cravat, and finally fell into a pelter, despite these delaying tactics. “Good God, you shouldn’t have gone yourselves! I expressly told Peabody to send a footman.”

  “Yes,” Diana snapped back. “And you expressly told us it was important documents that were to be picked up as well. What were we to think? We thought it had something to do with your work, and here it was only love letters to a lightskirt.”

  Harrup eased back onto his chair, considering whether he ought to be angry or apologetic. “A regrettable incident,” he said, but his tone was not apologetic. “May I have the letters, please?”

  “No, Harrup, you may not,” Diana said, and stared at him with an expression he couldn’t read, though he detected a trace of satisfaction in those bold, slanted eyes.

  “Now see here, missie! I want those letters, and I want them now, with no tricks, or I’ll turn you over my knee and give you a thrashing.”

  “Is that how a privy councillor treats a forward wench?” She smiled boldly. “I made sure more forceful measures were at your disposal—arrest, incarceration, deportation.”

  “Eavesdropping on top of it all! A thrashing is no more than you deserve, missie.” Yet he felt foolish. The young lady before him, speaking adult English and looking at him with a woman’s knowing eyes, was obviously too old to thrash.

  “Very likely, but it wouldn’t do you a bit of good. I don’t have the letters.”

  Harrup frowned in confusion. “But I’ve already discussed it with Laura. She agreed that five hundred pounds—” He came to a self-conscious halt.

  Diana’s lips formed a mocking smile. “The wages of sin, though high, are not high enough to suit Mrs. Whitby. She wants more, it seems.”

  A quick frown furrowed his brow and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Not another penny do I give. Did she actually have the gall to demand more money?”

  “Not at all. She was charming—and very pretty, by the bye. I compliment you on your taste.”

  Harrup batted the compliment aside. “Then what happened? Where are the letters?”

  “Peabody’s reticule was stolen at the inn at Welwyn where we stopped for lunch.”

  Harrup continued frowning, but it was no longer an angry frown. He was rapidly conjecturing the likely outcome of this accident. “Pity.”

  “Yes, she had all our money in her reticule, which is why we are forced to seek rack and manger from you.”

  “Naturally I’ll repay her. How much?”

  “Ten guineas.”

  “Have you any idea who the thief was? What I am wondering is whether he’ll realize the potential profit in what he picked up along with Peabody’s purse.”

  Diana regarded him as though he were an idiot. “Peabody is the only one who saw the man, and she didn’t recognize him. It was not done inadvertently by some simple cutpurse, however. The man asked specifically for our parlor. How did he know we were there? The only person who knew we had those letters and that we were en route to London was Mrs. Whitby. She sent him. The logical corollary is that she means to hit you up for more money.”

  Harrup’s handsome features pinched in consternation as he considered this view. He looked a little pale around the jawline. “I can’t believe it of Laura,” he said. His voice was light with disbelief or disillusion.

  “I daresay you’ll believe it when you receive the demand for payment,” she answered tartly. “How hot are the letters?”

  “Plenty hot.”

  A little snigger of laughter escaped her lips, for it seemed so very droll to think of this stiff-rumped gentleman penning purple phrases to a lightskirt. “I’m surprised at you, Harrup. I thought you were up to all the rigs, and you behave like a Johnnie Raw. Ronald would not be so foolish as that.”

  “There was a reason,” he defended reluctantly. “After moving Laura to Hitchin, I found I was able to spend
very little time with her. To pacify her, I wrote from London occasionally.”

  “A bad investment all around. How did you come to take a mistress, and especially to move her out of town, when you were too busy to see her?”

  “It’s complicated.” he said vaguely. “I moved her out of London because I was courting Lord Groden’s daughter, Lady Selena. I am engaged, by the bye.”

  “Congratulations.” Diana nodded. Her major interest in hearing this was to pass it along to Peabody. “Forgive my ignorance, but was it not an odd time to take up with a ladybird?”

  “I had already taken up with her earlier. I only wanted to get her out of town.”

  “And as Lady Selena keeps you too busy to visit Hitchin, you were dropping Mrs. Whitby,” Diana said.

  “No, it’s not Selena who keeps me so well occupied. The fact is, I am being considered for a very important appointment at court. Attorney general,” he said, his chest swelling with pride. His chin lifted a little higher, and his face assumed that noble expression often seen on Roman statues.

  “You—the conscience of the nation!” Diana exclaimed, and couldn’t suppress a laugh.

  The noble expression dwindled to annoyance. “That is the chancellor you’re thinking of. I shan’t be sitting on the woolsack till Eldon resigns—till he dies, actually. He has it for life. The attorney general is the first ministerial law officer of the government. A very important position. I want that appointment,” Harrup added. His voice resonated with passion.

  The Harrups had always been ambitious. Many such plums hung on the family tree, and as Harrup approached his peak years, he realized he was but little ornament to the family history. For that reason he had put his nose to the grindstone, his offer to Lady Selena, and decided to settle down. He was not accustomed to being thwarted in his desires, and a cold passion overcame him. He would do whatever he had to do to get that appointment.

  “Does Mrs. Whitby know all this?” Diana asked.

  “Of course; I told her.” He rose and began pacing to and fro in the small room.

  “A pity. You’ll have to come down heavy for the letters.”

  Harrup’s nostrils quivered in distaste, but no price was too high to pay for the attorney generalship. “I daresay,” he agreed. “Probably five thousand guineas—something in that neighborhood.”

  Diana gasped at the sum. “Have you no gumption, Harrup?” she asked angrily. “You’re going to be bled by a lightskirt! After setting her up in such high style, probably showering her with diamonds and giving her five hundred pounds besides, you’re going to sit idly by while she demands more?”

  “I can’t allow any scandal at this time.”

  “No, gudgeon, but you can try to get your letters back.” Harrup blinked to hear himself described so bluntly but didn’t object. “I don’t see how. You don’t even know who took them.”

  “Peabody got a look at the man,” she reminded him. “She’d recognize him if she saw him again. You know Peabody has eyes like a lynx.”

  “She’s not likely to see him, is she?”

  “He must have taken the letters back to Whitby. You’ll have to break into her house. And furthermore, did you know she’s coming to London soon? She told us to tell you she’d be seeing you here soon.”

  “I knew she was coming back. There’s nothing for a woman like Mrs. Whitby in Hitchin.”

  “She’ll bring the letters with her. She won’t give them to you, but you can steal them.”

  Harrup stared in frustration and swore off an accomplished oath. “That wouldn’t look good if I were caught—the aspirant to the position of attorney general breaking into a woman’s house ant stealing her letters.”

  “Reclaiming your letters—you’ve already paid for them.”

  “No, I can’t risk it,” he said after a brief consideration. “When I gave them to her, they ceased to be my property.”

  “Well, I can, and I shall.”

  “You?” he asked, and gave a dismissing smile. “Why should you put yourself to so much trouble?”

  “Because I have a favor to ask of you. I shan’t bother you with it now, but if I get the letters back, you must promise to give my request very generous consideration.”

  He leaned across the table and gave a satirical smile. “If you could get those letters back, my lass, I’d gladly buy you an abbey.”

  “You really do strike dreadful bargains, Harrup. Such largess as that is not a promise that will be kept. My request is more reasonable.”

  “Then just ask it. It’s not necessary for you to pitch yourself into the fray. I shan’t require a young lady to rescue me.”

  “I want to do it,” she said simply. “I won’t take any foolish risks. Peabody and I shall look around town and see if we can find the thief. I expect he’ll hold the letters till Mrs. Whitby comes to town. She said she’d be here soon.”

  “It’s worth a fly,” Harrup agreed. He thought the chances of success were very thin, but any chance was worth pursuing.

  “This affair will take a few days,” Diana said. “Can you lend Peabody and me some money? I mean above the ten pounds you’re going to repay her. Hotels are so expensive, and there are the horses…”

  “Stay here,” he offered.

  Diana looked up, startled. “You don’t want provincials here, lowering the tone of your establishment.”

  “My establishment’s reputation is not so precarious as that. Stay. We want to be in close touch. I’ll be more likely to learn who Laura’s cohort is than you. I can finger the scoundrel and have Peabody identify him. My servants might be some help to you as well. Your father’s groom won’t be comfortable driving in London.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “He allowed himself to be run off the road on the way here.”

  Harrup’s worried face softened in a smile. “Quite a day you’ve had, eh, missie? All my fault, and I apologize most humbly.”

  “Quite a day, and as if to receive an extremely cool reception at the end of it weren’t enough, you have to call me missie, as though I were a child. Actually, we didn’t just come to London to deliver Whitby’s love notes. Ronald is setting up an apartment, and we came to help him with the domestic details. I’ll be seeing him tomorrow.”

  “Invite him to meet you here,” Harrup said at once. “It will be more comfortable than your visiting the Clarendon. Though it is the one spot in London where you can get a decent French dinner,” he added consideringly

  Diana didn’t bother informing her host that Ronald was not putting up at this famous and expensive spot. The economical Ibbetson’s was the haunt of young graduates on the lookout for a position. “Thank you, I shall” is all she said.

  “You’d best run along to bed now, Di. You look burnt to the socket.”

  She examined his worried face and realized how important the letters were to her friend. “So do you, Harrup.”

  “I have some government work to do before I retire. It’s unfortunate I’m so busy. I’d like to show you around London. This is the first time you’ve visited me, I think?”

  She gave him a jeering smile. “I got tired of waiting for an invitation and just came along uninvited.”

  Harrup looked abashed at this plain speaking. “Don’t blush, Harrup. I’m quite familiar with your views on taking in provincial hangers-on and forward wenches.”

  “I’m sorry you overheard, but I see no reason to rescind the remark. My many relatives have taken the idea I run a hotel for their convenience, and then they have the nerve to complain if I take wine with my dinner.”

  “Neither Peabody nor I are at all Methodistical. It’s not the serving of wine I object to, but the vintage. I had expected better than this at your table,” she said, pointing to a carafe of decanted wine.

  Harrup sniffed it and grimaced. “Kitchen wine. I’ll speak to Stoker.”

  “You’ve singed the poor man’s ears enough for one night. Let him be.”

  “Quite as presumptuous as my maiden au
nts,” he chided. “A guest should not undertake to order her host about. Country manners won’t do in the city, you know. You must watch that tongue of yours.”

  Diana listened but heedlessly. “Is Lady Selena very proper, Harrup?”

  “A pattern card of propriety, as becomes the attorney general’s lady.”

  “Is that why you offered for her?”

  “Only partly. She’s also dashed pretty. She’d be snapped up inside of a month, so I moved quickly to secure her hand.”

  Diana bit her lip and wondered if she ought to air her fear. She figured Harrup was already in enough hot water without her adding to it. “Perhaps it’s not a good idea for me to stay here. Lady Selena might dislike your harboring a young lady who is not a relative or anything.”

  He laughed it off. “Selena likes what I tell her to like. Besides, she’d have no reason to be jealous of you.”

  Diana felt a sting of anger at this unwitting insult. “I may not be so ‘dashed pretty’ as your fiancée, but that is no reason to dismiss me out of hand!”

  “Good God, I didn’t mean that!” he exclaimed. “You’re like a little sister to me. We’ve known each other forever. Why, with Peabody having reared us both, we’re practically siblings.”

  “You must be sure to tell Lady Selena that, so she’ll know what to think,” Diana snipped, and strode upstairs, tallying the insults she’d been subjected to that day. It was not the “forward wench” or the charge of country manners that hurt. That Lady Selena had no cause for jealousy was the one that settled in her heart.

  Harrup went to his study and sat staring at the papers littering his desk. He wanted to be the attorney general so badly, he scarcely thought of anything else. All his life he had bought what he wanted—horses, houses, women. This was the first thing for which he had had to work and whose acquisition was in doubt, which increased his passion for it.

  A vision of lovely Laura Whitby reared up in his mind. His fingers were clenched with the desire to encircle her white throat and squeeze. He could hardly believe such treachery from her. Those tears when he told her it was over between them—how sincere they had looked. Was it possible someone oilier than Laura had got hold of the letters? Was it possible they were going to be published to thwart his hopes of getting the coveted appointment? A Whig trick, perhaps, to discredit him and the government?