“On the contrary,” Nathan said, “I should like to talk to him, too. He is on my list of those who knew Felix in his navy days, so he may have useful information.”
“Excellent. He will be at White’s this evening, so we can slip round there after dinner.”
Toller loomed over them in his garish clothes, full of bonhomie. “Ah, there you are Smethurst, Harbottle. Been expecting you for some time. You there! Bring more brandy over here. Sit, both of you and tell me the news from the north. Is there any news from the north?”
“None at all,” Nathan said promptly. “The Scots are peaceable, the weather is balmy, the sea is calm and the corn is ripening.”
Toller laughed, but rather half-heartedly, as if he was unsure of Nathan’s mood. Nathan was unsure of his own mood, in fact, disliking the fellow cordially and for no good reason that he could think of. For a few minutes they talked on indifferent subjects, before Toller said, “So, Harbottle, tell me — have you heard anything of that cousin of yours?”
“Nothing. In fact, I have reason to believe Felix may be dead.”
“Dead… ah.” Toller twirled his brandy glass thoughtfully.
“In fact, my visit to London is to establish if I can the circumstances of his wife’s death, and determine if there might have been a son. That is a matter you may be able to help me with, since you knew Felix in those days, I understand?”
Toller was an expert card player, so he had his features under control. Nevertheless, Nathan thought a certain cautiousness crept into his expression.
“Knew him… a little, certainly.”
“Did you know his wife?”
“Slightly. Very slightly.”
“We heard little of Felix in those days, but he informed us that his wife had died. Did you know anything of that?”
Now there was definite wariness in Toller’s countenance. “Knew of it, yes. She fell from a balcony, as I understand it. Seems a little morbid to be concerning yourself with such matters after all this time, Harbottle.”
Nathan sipped his brandy thoughtfully. Was Toller trying to turn him away from such questions? Interesting. “The trouble is, my cousin Sir William Harbottle died recently without issue, leaving Felix the putative heir. He himself may be dead, but if he left a son—”
“Now that I can assure you of at once. There was no son. Eliza died before her child could be born.”
Eliza. His slight acquaintance was such as to permit him to call her by her Christian name. “And he did not marry again, that you know of?”
“Lord, no! She was a shrew and a great trial to him, and he was glad to be rid of her. Nothing would induce him to marry again. Or so he said.”
That made Nathan smile inwardly — Nell had changed his mind about that!
Toller went on, “So you have reason to believe him dead, do you?”
Nathan hesitated. He hated to discuss Nell with a relative stranger, but they had agreed that disseminating their suspicions as widely as possible could only be helpful. There must be someone who had information connecting Felix with Jude Caldicott. So he said, “We suspect that the captain of the brig that sank, the Minerva, may have been Felix. He went by the name of Jude Caldicott.”
“At what port was the Minerva based?”
“Southampton.”
“Ah…” Toller said pensively. “More brandy, gentlemen?”
~~~~~
The following day, Nathan went to the Admiralty. Since his enquiries concerned only Felix, and not his existence as Jude Caldicott, he left Harry and the ladies to fill the day as they chose. Knowing Meg, Nathan suspected that they would fill the day rather expensively.
He had, naturally, written ahead to the Admiralty, so he was led at once to the office of an Admiral Beckley, a ruddy-featured man of about five and forty.
“Felix Harbottle!” he said, after the greetings. “That is a name to conjure up memories. A fine fellow, as I recall him. But you enquire about his wife, as I understand it?”
“About Felix, too, if you have any recent knowledge of him.”
“Alas, no. He left the navy some sixteen years ago, shortly after he was promoted to the rank of Captain, and nothing has been noted on his record since then.”
“He did not marry again, to your knowledge?”
“He did not ask permission to do so, certainly, and his marriage was not such as to— Hmm. Were you much acquainted with his wife, Mr Harbottle?”
“Not at all. I never met either of them. She was a housemaid at my aunt’s house, so I can only guess what sort of navy wife she made.”
“A housemaid?” The admiral’s neatly-trimmed eyebrows rose a fraction. “That does account for… certain irregularities in her behaviour. She was not the easiest person to live with, certainly, but Commander Harbottle must have been fond of her, for he was very distressed by her death. To the question you posed in your letter, Mr Harbottle, yes, she is most certainly dead, and the child she carried with her also. The coroner was very thorough, and she was identified by your cousin and two others who knew her. She is most definitely dead. It was a rum business, though. Did you ever hear the details?”
“No, nothing at all except the bare facts,” Nathan said. “I should be curious to know how a lady might fall from a balcony to her death.”
The admiral sat back in his chair, resting his steepled hands against his lips as he pondered. “Commander and Mrs Harbottle, being very young still, had fallen in with rather a wild crowd. Well, our officers are trained to fight wars, and life aboard ship is very disciplined and rigorous, you understand, so when ashore they like to be… a little less restrained, shall we say. That particular night, there was a great deal of rum punch consumed, by the ladies as well as the gentlemen, and so matters became lively. Commander Harbottle had… a tempestuous relationship, let us say, with his wife, and they had quarrelled, loudly and publicly, earlier in the evening. Around two in the morning, the watch found her broken body beneath the balcony. Commander Harbottle was located, fast asleep in the marital bed, two hours later. The coroner deemed it a tragic accident.”
Nathan frowned. The admiral’s clipped tones and flat recitation of the facts suggested… he was not sure what they suggested, but it was unsettling. “Was there any question that it was not an accident? Was Felix suspected?”
“Those are… interesting questions,” the admiral said carefully. “At the time, no doubt a great many rumours swirled about, but the coroner’s report shows nothing of that, only the bald facts and the coroner’s judgement. I reviewed the report again when I received your letter, and I can tell you that there is no stain on your cousin’s record of any sort, and nothing transpired in the coroner’s court to indicate otherwise. In fact, there was a witness found some days after the tragedy who had seen Commander Harbottle leave the house while his wife was alive and well.”
“A witness?”
“A Mr Pascall. A friend of your cousin’s.” Now there was obvious disparagement in his tone.
“Admiral Beckley, I have reason to believe my cousin is dead, and whatever you say cannot harm him. Will you not speak plainly? You suspect some… deceit, perhaps?”
The admiral regarded him thoughtfully, then said, “As I have said, at the time there were a great many rumours, but the coroner attends only to facts. It was deemed a tragic accident, and your cousin left the navy with his record unblemished. I see no reason to delve any deeper. It cannot be of benefit to anyone.”
A moment’s reflection persuaded Nathan that he was right. He had come to establish that Felix’s wife was dead, leaving no child, and he had achieved that object. Nothing more was needed.
Having furnished Nathan with the address of the place where the register of Eliza’s death might be viewed, the admiral showed him out.
~~~~~
It was years since Nell had had such a pleasurable day. She and Meg had passed the whole morning indulging in the hedonistic delights of Oxford Street, Piccadilly and New Bond Street, while Harry
looked on in affectionate amusement. They returned home laden with parcels — lengths of material, gloves, stockings, lace, scarves and even ear drops and bracelets. Although Nell had bought little for herself, Meg’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Nell enjoyed the purchases almost as if they had been for herself.
She prepared for the evening with some eagerness. She had one of Jessica’s unwanted gowns to wear, a charming shawl that Meg had insisted on buying for her and a new pair of silk stockings she had bought for herself. She would have liked new slippers, but she still had to be very careful with her money. When Carlotta had devised a new and very attractive coiffure for her, she felt buoyed up with happy anticipation. To be in company again! Such a pleasure.
Meg, however, was unaccountably nervous. “Will they be very grand, the marquess’s relations?” she said, as they prepared for the evening in the bedroom they shared.
“I daresay,” Nell said absently. “They always are, these noble families, but the marquess did not seem at all high in the instep.”
“What is his wife like? She sounded very amiable in her letter.”
“My dear Meg, I do not number marchionesses amongst my acquaintance! I am sure she is perfectly affable.”
“To you, perhaps, but not to me,” she said in a small voice. “How shall I go on in such company?”
“You have only to be friendly and unassuming, as you always are, and they cannot fail to be delighted with you.”
“That is very easy for you to say, when you grew up amongst such people. Nell, I am terrified of doing anything to damage Harry’s prospects. I do try to be ladylike, but it does not come naturally to me, as it does to you. What shall I do?”
Nell considered the question carefully. “When I was preparing for my come out and wondered how I would manage my curtsy in the Queen’s Drawing Room, or a cotillion at Almack’s, my governess used to say, ‘Remember, you are the Grand Duchess Magnifica. You are the equal of anybody.’ I used to say it to myself as I dressed for the evening, or just before I entered a ballroom.”
“The Grand Duchess Magnifica?” Meg said, disbelief on her face.
“It sounds silly, I know, but it really worked.”
Marford House was every bit as magnificent as Nell had expected of such a noble and wealthy family as the Marfords. Having grown up in a household with an income of four thousand a year, and having recently learnt to manage on a great deal less, she looked about her with new eyes, counting the number of footman and candles, and wondering at the size of the fireplaces. Yet as they crossed the vast expanse of marble-tiled floor in the entrance hall, childish laughter drifted down from the upper floors, and when she gazed up at the massive staircase, two small faces peered through the balusters. She smiled and waved to them, and after a moment’s hesitation they waved back. She liked to think of this palatial building as a family home, echoing to the high voices of children.
They were shown into the Chinese saloon, a room so large that a whole wing of Daveney Hall would fit into it. Nell was gazing intently at the glass-domed roof, knowing that she would have to describe it in detail to Louis, and wishing she had her sketchbook with her, when she became aware that Meg was shaking beside her.
“So many of them!” she whispered, in horrified tones. “And all of them grander than me.”
The room was, indeed, filled with people, and for a moment the sea of silks and jewels and waving feathers was almost as impressive as the room itself. Even Nell quailed at the collected mass of the peerage. But then the sea solidified into individual faces — a young lady here, an old one with too much rouge there, a jolly-looking gentleman leaning against the mantel.
Nell straightened her spine. “They are only people, Meg,” she said firmly. “They still snore and sneeze and sniff like everyone else.”
“Yes, but… do they not terrify you?” she said, as the butler announced them.
“No, for tonight I am the Grand Duchess Magnifica, and so are you. Lift your chin and smile, for we are not intimidated by anyone.”
“The Grand Duchess Magnifica,” Meg whispered. Then, standing a little taller, “I am the Grand Duchess Magnifica, and I am the equal of anybody.” She let out a breath, and gave Nell a tremulous smile. “Yes. Not intimidated. I am not intimidated.”
25: Return To Southampton (July)
Nathan was not of a type to be overwhelmed by the imposing grandeur of the nobility. Like his father, he had never yearned to own a country estate or a majestic town house, and although he sometimes wished he might escape the bustle and noise and smell of York, and regretted that his dining room could only seat twelve, he had no desire at all to live in anything like Marford House. Nor did its size impress him. It was evidence that a previous marquess had been rich enough to build it, and the present one to maintain it, that was all.
He could see, though, that Meg felt oppressed by it, or perhaps it was the press of absurdly fashionable people filling the room, and every last one of them, so it seemed, a lord or lady of rank. Harry was less than his usual confident self, as well — a little nervous, constantly adjusting his sleeves, or pulling on one ear. Nell, of course, was quite at home. He smiled as he watched her chatting easily with a dowager in a strange trailing headdress edged with jewels.
The dinner was exactly as he had expected, abundant and extravagant, but the conversation was mostly less high-flown than he had anticipated. Once an elderly gentleman raised the issue of slavery in robust terms, asking Lord Carrbridge for his opinion on a point of abstruse detail, and Nathan was amused to see the marquess, for all his society polish, look suddenly panic-stricken and refer the questioner to Sir Daniel, as if he could not give an opinion without his secretary to tell him what his opinion should be. Generally, however, the talk was of children and servants and society on dits, and the tragedy of the young Duke of Falconbury, and how his brother had sent envoys to America to find out if the duke had perchance married while he was travelling there and sired an heir.
“Very proper,” one of the elderly gentlemen said, and they all nodded and agreed that it was indeed very proper of his brother not to assume the dead man’s mantle before all avenues had been explored.
Nathan could not often catch a glimpse of Nell once they were at table, for she sat on the same side that he did, but Meg was almost directly opposite him, between Sir Daniel and a garishly-attired brother of the marquess. He watched as she demurely cast her eyes downwards and made only brief answers at first, but by the time the second course had been set out, she was beginning to relax and the fellow with the violently-coloured waistcoat was seen laughing at her remarks.
“Who is that gentleman in the green and yellow striped waistcoat?” Nathan whispered to his neighbour.
“Lord Humphrey Marford,” she whispered back. “A fine fellow, is he not? Be careful how you answer, Mr Harbottle, for I should not like you to say anything in disparagement of my husband.”
“I should not dream of it, Lady Humphrey,” he said. “I was only about to remark that he is getting on very well with my sister.”
“It is difficult to imagine anyone not getting on well with her, Mr Harbottle. She seems a delightful lady, and I should like to get to know her better. Are you in town for long?”
“Another day only, and then we must go to Southampton.”
“What a pity. But you are from York, I understand? Very well, I shall come and find you. Have you your card with you? Ah, thank you.” Her eyes turned to Meg again. “A delightful lady. Quite wasted in York, I feel. Has she been much in town before this? I am sure I should have heard her mentioned, if so.”
Nathan hesitated, but Lady Humphrey seemed genuinely interested. “Meg has always felt that she would not fit into the beau monde. She is not good ton.”
“Because of the West Indian heritage? She will probably never marry a ducal heir, that is true, but then who would want to? Dreadfully stuffy, most of them. Still, there are plenty of younger sons who would be delighted to have such a beautiful and
lively wife who is not just in the common way, and only the very highest sticklers would snub her. I am living proof that one may be outrageous and still get vouchers from Almack’s. Have you ever been to Almack’s? I went once, to please Humphrey, but it was excessively dull.”
“Are you outrageous, Lady Humphrey?” Nathan said, intrigued. “I do hope so, for I have never met anyone outrageous before.”
She laughed merrily and said, “I was positively infamous before my marriage, although I cannot think why, for I only sprang a man from gaol once, and the fellow I shot was only winged, after all. Nothing but a scratch, and he deserved far worse.” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke, and Nathan was left hoping such tales were true, but rather afraid they were not.
It was Lady Carrbridge, however, who set the seal on the evening as she moved round the drawing room dispensing tea. “Will you be back in town next month, Mr Harbottle? We have our final ball of the season in two weeks. Mrs Caldicott will not care for such an event, I daresay, but I should love you and Miss Harbottle to be amongst our guests. Mr Smethurst will be invited, of course, and there are one or two young men I can call to mind who would be very happy to make Miss Harbottle’s acquaintance.”
“I cannot say if our business in Southampton will be concluded by then,” Nathan said neutrally.
“I shall send you cards anyway,” Lady Carrbridge said. “If you are here, you will be very welcome, I assure you.”
He thanked her with genuine gratitude, and resolved to leave the decision to Meg, but if she were minded to make a public appearance in London, it would be hard to find a better sponsor than the marchioness.
~~~~~
JULY
It was strange to be returning to Southampton after so many weeks away. Despite the cheery letters from Maria telling her that all was well, Nell was not quite sure what to expect. Was Maria’s optimistic tone a true reflection of circumstances, or was she sheltering her friend from grim news?
The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1) Page 25
