Bad Miss Bennet

by Jean Burnett

  ‘Yes,’ our hostess nodded, ‘a strange ending for one who seemed more concerned about the knot of his necktie than matters of high politics.’ I assumed the deceased had also taken tea in this house. ‘I do not know why he was killed but I hope to discover something quite soon.’ Selena and I were rigid with astonishment. I had no idea that the Prince Regent’s morganatic wife headed her own espionage service. My friend recovered her wits quickly.

  ‘What was he doing here? Did he have business with the prince?’

  ‘He undertook a commission for HRH on the continent, before returning to England. I do not know what the commission was but it must have been of great importance if murder was involved. The prince will be greatly perturbed. I did not care for Von Mecks myself. His conversation was facetious, full of sparkle of the first water, but I was saddened to hear of his death and the manner of it.’

  I recalled that my patron had also been badly affected by the incident, to the extent of forgetting my existence. I pointed this out to our hostess who patted my hand again and said it was just as well. I would in that moment have told her all about Jerry Sartain as well, were if not for the suspicion that she already knew. For a moment I longed to be back in London with nothing to worry about but the date of the next card party. I had progressed from a living death of boredom at Pemberley to an uncomfortable proximity to the criminal underworld.

  ‘Mr Getheridge is so cast down by the Von Mecks affair that he speaks of retiring to Bath to take the waters,’ I commented. Mrs Fitzherbert looked startled and then an expression of distaste crossed her face.

  ‘If one cannot be in Brighton, then London is the only place to be. In no other place can fortune be so successfully wooed.’ She gave me a meaningful look as she spoke. How comforting it was to be advised by one who was well-disposed and in possession of great wisdom. I felt that this gracious lady had taken me under her wing in some way and I knew I could count on her advice.

  As if she read my thoughts the lady remarked that it was fortunate we were living just across the Steyne. ‘You must come to visit me frequently, my dears.’ Our kind hostess then enquired after the health of Selena’s spouse. How was he faring in peacetime and were his prospects good? My friend sighed that life on an officer’s half pay was not easy.

  ‘My husband is ill-fitted for life outside the military, madam. Miles is, of course, a gentleman. That is to say, he keeps his hands out of his pockets and has no visible means of support.’

  Mrs Fitzherbert clucked sympathetically. ‘And have you no fortune of your own my dear?’ Selena shook her head sadly.

  ‘I will inherit a small estate in Ireland should my uncle and his son expire suddenly.’

  ‘Anything is possible,’ remarked the lady enigmatically. She rose to her feet. ‘Always think of England my dears,’ she said with great feeling. I reflected that I preferred to think of Lord Byron at moments of great emotion. We made our farewells.

  Selena appeared to be quite bemused by the experience. She made her way unsteadily across the street to Halfcrown House and remained blindly unaware when Jerry Sartain materialised from the alley alongside the Fitzherbert house and whisked me away.

  ‘We have urgent matters to discuss,’ he muttered as he seized my arm. He was still wearing the livery of the royal household under his great cape. I protested that my companion would be dismayed by my disappearance but he was not impressed. He hurried me towards the Royal Pavilion, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial manner.

  ‘You know about the Von Mecks affair?’

  ‘I have heard it mentioned far too many times. I do not want to be involved in whatever you’re planning.’

  He leered at me in an attractive way. ‘Jewels, my dear. I know you cannot resist them.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I refer to the jewels Von Mecks brought back from the continent. I know where they are hidden in the Royal Pavilion.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the prince’s bedchamber.’

  ‘You will never manage to steal them from there,’ I said scornfully.

  ‘No,’ he agreed, ‘but you will!’

  Chapter Ten

  I cannot adequately describe my feelings of terror at hearing this remark, dear reader. I knew immediately that I would have to agree to whatever Jerry was planning. He was an irresistible force. That is the only excuse I can give.

  By the time we reached the servants’ entrance to the Pavilion my companion had outlined his plan and had explained my part in the scheme. We slipped through the door unobserved and found an empty room where we could talk without interruption. Jerry continued in his most persuasive manner.

  ‘Von Mecks went to the continent in pursuit of Princess Caroline. The prince wanted to recover a priceless set of jewels known as the Cambridge emeralds – a set consisting of a necklace, earrings and bracelets which were in the possession of his estranged wife.’

  ‘Surely she had a right to them?’ I said. Jerry gave me an amused look.

  ‘Perhaps. But he had cast her off and the jewels were the property of the crown. He had a right to demand their return.’

  ‘I suppose he wanted to give them to his latest doxie.’

  ‘No, I believe they were intended to be a gift to the Princess Charlotte on her marriage. The prince thought that Von Mecks might be able to charm the old hag – I mean the Princess Caroline. I heard he was prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice.’

  ‘You mean … death?’

  ‘No, you cuckoo, I mean his body. The princess is not only as ugly as sin and as randy as a goat, but it is said she bathes infrequently. The prince always needed a large brandy before doing his marital duty, which was not often.’

  I pointed out that this was all quite fascinating but it had little to do with us. Jerry disagreed, saying that the jewels were now in the prince’s possession, although not before Von Mecks had been murdered by person or persons unknown.

  ‘There are many people who would like to acquire those jewels, including yours truly.’ He drew closer and breathed in my ear. I felt a tingle start in my toes and move rapidly up through my body.

  ‘This … this is monstrous,’ I stammered. ‘How could you dispose of something so valuable, should you manage to steal the jewels? The Cambridge emeralds cannot be traded in a house of ill repute in Seven Dials, surely?’

  ‘We would take them to the continent, to Amsterdam. They could be split up, it would be easier than you suppose.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘And what do I have to do?’ He toyed affectionately with a lock of my hair. ‘My royal master cannot resist a pretty face. He craves novelty. Your part will be to keep him occupied in the usual way and then to slip a sleeping draught into his wine. You will need to let me into the bedchamber whereupon I will take care of everything. There is a secret passageway from the royal apartments to a nearby inn …’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ I interrupted, ‘I know all about that.’

  ‘There is a secret panel in the prince’s chamber leading to the staircase out of the building. He is afraid of assassination attempts. That is why I need you to be in the chamber so that you can open the panel after the prince has taken the sleeping draught.’ I tried to protest again but he ignored me.

  ‘I will have to introduce you to the prince as the latest novelty.’

  ‘And so I must keep the prince occupied in the usual way, must I?’ I stuttered with rage.

  Jerry raised a surprised eyebrow. ‘Surely that will not be a problem for you, my dear – an experienced woman like yourself.’

  ‘How dare you!’

  ‘I mean only that you are a married woman. You are no trembling virgin. Think of the jewels and what they will mean to us.’

  Many things raced through my mind at that moment. Visions of the stately façade of Pemberley and the shocked faces of my sister and brother-in-law, followed by an image of my childhood home with my parents weeping into their soup. This was swiftly followed by a vision of the Prince Regen
t divested of his brocades and corsets. I closed my eyes and tried to think of Lord Byron. Jerry was holding me close and placing his lips near my ear.

  ‘It will only be for a short time. I hear the prince has little stamina for such matters these days – or rather, nights.’ I shoved him away indignantly.

  ‘It seems that I will be the one making all the sacrifices in this little escapade. It is all very well for you, my friend. You will merely be acting normally, arranging fast horses and knocking people on the head.’

  He frowned. ‘On the contrary, I shall be taking all the risks. Just by donning this uniform I put myself at risk of discovery. I am a wanted man, remember.’

  ‘And I shall be a wanted woman,’ I cried miserably, ‘as well as a wanton one!’

  He shook his head at me. ‘I had thought you were more ambitious and determined, my dear. I cannot enter the royal chamber through the secret panel unless you open it for me, so you see; your role is a vital one.’ He went on to assure me that fast horses would be waiting at the inn and we would be away at sea before anyone missed us.

  I am sure you can imagine, dear reader, how this little scene played out. Jerry escorted me back to Halfcrown House after I had promised to return to the Pavilion at midnight whereupon I would be ‘introduced’ into the Prince’s bedchamber. He assured me that I would be painted in glowing terms to HRH.

  When I outlined the plan to my friends, in defiance of Jerry who had sworn me to secrecy, they were struck dumb for a full two minutes. Miles slowly found his tongue. ‘Well, blast my breeches, this is a scheme and a half.’

  Selena fanned herself; she looked quite pale. ‘I only agreed to a little finagling with the cards,’ she said plaintively. ‘It was never my intention to be involved in treason and grand larceny.’

  ‘Quite so, my love,’ her husband agreed. ‘I have no love for the Germans,’ he waved a hand in the general direction of the Royal Pavilion, ‘but treason is treason. I fought at Waterloo, after all.’ I hastened to assure them that I would not involve them in this ridiculous scheme under any circumstances.

  ‘You have been good friends to me and I am telling you this so that you will know what happened to me and you will be able to notify my unfortunate relatives when I am hanged at Newgate.’ Selena began to weep and Miles dabbed at his eyes with a large cambric mouchoir. (I am still continuing with the French language.)

  ‘We cannot let you take part in this madness,’ he said firmly. ‘You must be saved from yourself, don’t you agree my love?’

  His wife nodded and blew her nose loudly. ‘You are in the grip of a grotesque folie d’amour, Lydia. What became of your simple ambition to dance at Almack’s?’

  I pointed out that I could not refuse at this stage. Jeremy Sartain was not a man to be crossed. I shuddered to think what he might do if I did not arrive for this rendezvous. Miles began to think furiously, his face turning purple at the unfamiliar exercise.

  ‘I think I have an idea,’ he said slowly. I began to feel anxious.

  ‘I trust it does not depend on Adelaide?’ I said. ‘I do not think in the circumstances …’ Miles waved his hand airily.

  ‘Leave it all to me, my dear.’ At that point there was a loud knock on the front door. ‘Ah, here comes Lord Finchbrook, just the man I need. He is down from London and we persuaded him to dine with us.’ He patted my knee. ‘Don’t fret, Lydia. We will save you from yourself.’ I went upstairs to change, trying to establish in my mind whether I wanted to be saved or not. I prayed that reason would triumph in the end.

  After dinner, during which I was somewhat quiet and distracted, the men retired to smoke and drink port while Selena and I paced miserably around the small salon. Later, the men emerged looking conspiratorial. Lord Finchbrook announced that he would drive me to the Pavilion in his phaeton. I could not, of course, walk through the streets of Brighton alone at that hour. Miles assured me once more that all would be well. ‘We have everything in hand,’ he insisted, while his lordship nodded agreement. Selena and Adelaide started to cry as I left the house, adding to the funereal atmosphere.

  As we drove the short distance to the Pavilion the night suddenly became so still that I could hear the muted roar of the sea acting as background music to the latest drama in my life. Where were all the revellers who usually thronged these streets? I wondered, and shivered. Lord Finchbrook told me not to be afraid.

  ‘I suppose you think me little better than a harlot?’ I remarked.

  ‘Indeed I do not,’ he replied. ‘Members of my family, male as well as female, have been offering themselves to the royal family for centuries. In fact, it’s something of a family trade. I am descended from Nell Gwyn, you know.’ I laughed, reflecting that Charles Stuart was by all accounts a handsome fellow. I would have changed places with Nell if I could.

  His lordship watched as I entered the servants’ wing once more where Jerry was waiting to whisk me along to the royal apartment. The clock struck midnight as the valet, looking bored and fatigued, let me into the bedchamber. An equally bored looking guardsman was the only other person on duty slumped on a seat in the antechamber.

  I walked forward and curtsied before what looked like a small white mountain in the middle of the room. The soft candlelight was playing tricks on my eyes. Then the mountain moved and I saw it was the prince dressed in a white nightshirt flowing to his feet, a nightcap and gold Turkish slippers. This ridiculous vision was made even more incongruous by the blue sash of the garter worn across his chest. He greeted me eagerly and kissed my fingers before I removed my velvet cape and hood.

  ‘How delightful to see you, my dear,’ he murmured, drawing me towards a small table where two cups of wine had been placed. I smiled sweetly, at a loss for words. ‘How kind of you to let me come,’ was all I could muster in return, and it seemed inappropriate in the circumstances.

  We sat on a love seat sipping our wine while I glanced anxiously at the prince’s imposing bed with its Chinese silk and gold brocade hangings. I tried to establish where the secret door might be but the panelled walls gave nothing away. HRH mumbled and murmured beside me but I could not concentrate on the conversation. Brandy fumes wafted in my direction as he fumbled for my hand and peered down my bosom.

  I wondered what the etiquette might be in these circumstances. I remembered reading that the concubines of the Great Turk approached their master via his feet. This thought made me giggle which seemed to please the prince.

  ‘Delightful, delightful!’ he burbled. ‘Have we met before, my dear?’ He removed my glass and pulled me towards the bed none too gently. ‘No time to waste,’ he announced as he proceeded to throw himself onto the bed where he became stuck, half on and half off, undulating like a giant, gilded caterpillar. He signalled that I should assist him and so I found myself lifting the royal legs and attempting to hoist the future king onto the sheets.

  When this manoeuvre was completed I reluctantly began to remove my own clothes. I approached the bed clad in my shift but not before I had poured more wine while the prince was arranging himself in the bed. I contrived to slip the sleeping draught into his glass. Jerry had given me the powder in a twist of paper.

  I climbed into the bed and passed the glass to the Regent urging him to drink a toast to our meeting. He obediently swallowed it down and proceeded to business with gratifying enthusiasm, but his bulk somewhat limited his abilities. There was a great deal of huffing and puffing. He eventually had his way with me but I was thinking of Lord Byron at the time and I contrived not to notice.

  I lay politely under the royal bulk for some time listening for the sounds indicating that my ordeal was over. When he began to snore and whiffle gently, I carefully began to slide away from the regal mountain. Once upright I dressed hastily and began to examine the wall panels wondering how I might find the right one.

  As I was running my fingers over the walls there was a knock that seemed terrifyingly loud and Jerry’s muffled voice could be heard calling my name. I froz
e, thinking that the prince must surely hear the sound – but he continued to emit soft whistling noises.

  I located the panel and after some frantic examination of the woodwork there was a loud click and a panel slid back. Jerry emerged, gave me a swift kiss on the cheek and began to open a drawer in a gilded writing desk using a tiny gilt key.

  ‘How did you get that key?’ I hissed. He gave me a warning look and whispered, ‘I stole the original from the valet and made a copy.’ He removed a long blue box with gilt clasps. With a sigh of pleasure he relocked the drawer, seized my arm and propelled me towards the secret door and the darkness beyond.

  He lit a small candle and I stumbled after him for what seemed an interminable hour but must have been around fifteen minutes. We mounted a flight of stone steps and entered the King’s Head where Jerry hailed the landlord in a familiar manner.

  We were led to the stables where I was heaved onto a large black horse which rolled its eyes in a disagreeable fashion. Jerry jumped up behind me and we were soon trotting through the narrow lanes of the town and out into the woods. A half moon and a sky full of spring stars gave us a good light and Jerry set the horse at a gallop.

  ‘We are off to a new life, my love!’ he gave an exuberant wave at the night sky. ‘How will you feel as the companion of a successful outlaw? Perhaps we should be married when we reach Amsterdam.’

  My thoughts on this subject were very mixed.

  I wondered when and where my rescuers would appear and whether I truly wanted to be rescued. I was soon to find out, as a shot rang out. The horse reared, and then fell to its knees throwing me painfully into a heap on the hard ground. I heard my highwayman utter a curse as he knelt down trying to reach the brace of pistols he carried in the saddle bag. Another shot rang out and I saw him fall. A familiar voice cried out, ‘I think you winged him, Miles.’