His Naughty Maid: Delightful Doings in Dudley Crescent, Book 3

by DeLand, Cerise

  “I do remember him, yes. But I never formally met him.”

  “I understand.” Belle leaned close. “Why do you need to talk with the Runners, Jess?”

  “I—I cannot tell you. It is a story for them. And I’m not certain how to go about meeting them.”

  “I think you walk in and ask to speak to an officer.” Belle stared at her, skepticism in her expression. “You haven’t told Charlie the details of this, have you?”

  “No, but he knows something is amiss.”

  “You must.”

  Jess nodded. “I don’t want him involved.”

  “Why not? He would be a great help to you with the Runners.”

  “I don’t want him hurt,” she admitted.

  “Wait. You…you fear someone? Jess!”

  “Yes, I do.” She had to admit it to one and all. And to free herself of her shame at hiding it.

  “Why? Oh! You know some…crime was committed? And who did it?”

  “I recall what he looks like.” How he shaves, combs his hair and dresses. I remember his voice. Rough as gravel.

  “Jess! Dear me! And you fear for Charlie’s safety if he were to know details?”

  Oh, she’d been a fool to think she could keep all this to herself. Dear god. She feared for her own safety and Charlie’s. “Yes. Yes!”

  “This is all because of what happened to your mother. Oh, Jess. That was horrid. True. But a freakish twist of justice. You mustn’t let that stop you now.”

  “I know. I agree. I’ve tormented myself with the issue. Clearly I ran away. I ran away, Belle! Like a child. And now I must stand up. I knew it before I came here. I had decided to go before I heard our maid utter your name. I knew it was the right thing to do to come to you and ask for advice. And yes.” She licked her lips. “I must go to Bow Street.”

  “Thank heavens.” Belle inhaled deeply and sat examining Jess in silence.

  She winced. “Will the authorities believe me?”

  Belle pulled back, outraged for her. “You think they would dispute your word?”

  “I have no proof, Belle. Only my word.” They hadn’t at first believed her mother when she gave her statements. They’d criticized her. Dismissed much of what she had to say until she insisted they listen to her.

  “You think they would dismiss you because you are a woman?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Belle blanched. “I remember your mother’s experience with the constable. That was long ago.”

  Jess was ready to tell her the worst of it. “Not so long. Six years. Have things changed that much? I wonder. Plus, there is that other fact that I am just like her. A woman and a servant.”

  Belle shot to her feet. “That is not right, Jessica Archer. Not right at all. You must report this. I’ll go with you.”

  “No! No. I’ll go myself.” Jess was firm.

  “You’re certain?”

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “If you reconsider and want me to accompany you—”

  “I won’t.” She had to do this to repair her own integrity. Jess rose, hugged her friend and drew away. She’d come for help and gotten encouragement. That was enough. “Thank you.”

  Belle held her at arms’ length. “Promise me you will tell Charlie about this.”

  He’ll want to go with me. She was tired of arguing. “Yes. Certainly.”

  Belle shook her head. “Your promise is half-hearted.”

  “Nonetheless, a promise.”

  Belle saw her down to the kitchen door. “Return soon. Friday for tea? All the folderol for the Coronation will be over and done. We must visit and you must meet Cartwell.”

  “I thank you for your largesse, Belle, but the earl would not wish to meet me.”

  Belle looked at her askance. “My Win is not like other men. He sees no boundaries where love and affection are concerned.”

  “I will ask if I can have a few minutes to visit. I’ll send a note. But please don’t count on me.”

  Belle gathered her close. Her butler and a kitchen maid looked on. Neither seemed shocked by their mistress’s actions.

  Jess broke away and asked the butler, “Has the young maid who came with me returned home?”

  “Mabel? Yes, she left a few minutes ago. Met one of your men servants in the yard.”

  “Oh?”

  “You have a new man in Viscount Rockingham’s employ, I take it?” The butler was curious.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Odd, that. I didn’t recognize him. Oh, well, my eyesight is not what it should be.”

  “Shrewsbury is retiring to Cartwell Manor in a few weeks,” Belle said in obvious affection for the man.

  “The Countess and her husband coddle me, Miss.” He winked.

  Definitely a happy household here. Jess smiled. “A fine state to live in. I must run. Thank you both. Good day.”

  As she stepped out into the alley toward home, she heard a squeak and turned to glimpse grey cotton skirts disappearing around the far corner of the mews. If Mable was having a tryst, Jess hoped she was being discreet about it. Romances among staff were usually frowned upon by one and all. Oh, well. Mabel was responsible for herself.

  Jess had her own responsibilities to take care of. She wondered if she could persuade Mrs. Moseley to allow her to have a few hours to herself tomorrow afternoon. Saturday. Questioning if Bow Street men would be on duty on Sundays, Jess thought Saturday a better day to go to them. That exchange of Saturday for her half day Sunday might please the housekeeper. Especially if she offered to remain in the house to complete morning chores while other staff went to church.

  As for her promise to reveal her secret to Charlie?

  She must. It was time to end her own cowardice.

  Chapter 9

  After breakfast the next morning, Jess hurried outside to throw the morning refuse in the trash.

  “Jess!” Charlie pushed away from the wall of the wide stable door to his portion of the Crescent mews.

  She paused in the middle of the alley and glanced about to see that no one observed their encounter. “Have you been waiting for me?”

  “I have. Come.” He wore casual buff breeches, black boots and dark brown frock coat, carefree attire for a man about town. Taking a few steps inside his stable in the mews, he turned to extend a hand toward the open door of his town coach. “Climb in. We’re going for a ride.”

  “I must return. Moseley expects me.”

  “No, she doesn’t. I’ve spoken with her. And you and I will talk in this carriage. Now.”

  “The staff resent me. Even after your statement to Thomas.” Jess gave in. Taking the seat opposite him, she fumed at him but it was half-hearted. She was just as happy to be in a secluded carriage away from the houses and prying eyes. “I’ve enough problems and I don’t need more.”

  He climbed in after her and took the seat opposite. “You’ll not have them. I told Moseley I’d dismiss her or anyone else if she countered me or acted against you in any way.” He braced his arms on two red brocade cushions. In that pose, he put her in mind of a king upon his throne. A king who would not brook argument.

  She shifted in the sumptuous squabs, the comfort of them alone assuaging the edge of her anger at his actions. “I can’t say I’m not grateful for the intercession.”

  He locked his blue eyes on hers and firming his mouth, seemed as inscrutable as a Sphinx. “I’ve had enough of this masquerade of you as a housemaid. You will now move upstairs into one of the guest bedrooms. I’ve ordered a wardrobe sewn for you by a modiste form Half Moon Street. She arrives this afternoon for a fitting at noon.”

  “How will that look? In your house? As your kept woman?”

  “As my friend. I emphasized that with Mrs. Moseley. You were my friend. More than. Now you are my guest as well. Furthermore, I will treat you as such.”

  She forced herself to look out the window. His determination brought her a surprising giddy joy. The sunny day
, the breeze wafting into the coach, the fragrance of his cologne and the assurance of his safety summoned grateful tears to her eyes.

  “I didn’t wish to make you cry,” he said with a compassion that soothed her. “I know you hate to do it. Let your guard down. But I am not the ogre of society. I am simply me, alone, a man who wishes you well and happy, my dear.”

  His words held the spark of his dire concern for her as well as the affection she did not want to acknowledge. But she couldn’t help herself. “I’ve had a terrible two weeks of it. And your help—even if I didn’t seek it—is welcome.”

  “Good to hear.” He shoved a handkerchief into her hand.

  She dabbed at her lashes.

  His coachman drove onward, through the streets of Mayfair. The clomping of Charlie’s horses provided a regular beat that calmed her. The pedestrians, well-dressed and chatting, drifted into Fortnum & Mason or Lock and Company Hatters. Men addressed their friends in serious concern. Ladies in their finery allowed their footmen to carry boxes and bags. Some of their purchases towered high in their arms and their footmen appeared to be jugglers at a fair.

  “We’ve been at odds,” he said at last. “That will end.”

  She exhaled. “I cannot fight with you and do what I must.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Find my courage.”

  “You’ve that in abundance.”

  “Newly so.”

  He made a sound in his throat which led her to think he considered that a good thing. “You went to Isabelle’s house yesterday, I understand from Moseley.”

  “She objected.”

  “Not any longer. Did you see Isabelle?”

  “I did. I had no idea she and her husband lived in Dudley Crescent.”

  “Forgive me. I should have told you.”

  She smiled at him. “You need not apologize. We spoke of so much else.”

  “Still,” he said. “You need your friends.”

  That she could acknowledge. “You’re right.”

  “Will Isabelle help you?”

  “She wants to.”

  “Did you refuse her, too?”

  “Not in the way you mean. I took her advice and will act on it. As soon as I can.”

  “Good.” He dragged in a huge breath, crossed one long leg over another and looked out the window, his attitude one of exasperation. “I’ve re-read a few recent issues of current newspapers.”

  His voice sounded foreboding.

  “Oh? Why?”

  She folded her hands and waited.

  “I see that your employer, Antoine DuVal has taken a holiday. There is an advertisement that says his shop is temporarily closed.”

  Monsieur DuVal had taken her advice to leave Brighton—and was still away. Thank heavens.

  “Do you know where he went?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Margate, perhaps? Or here for the Coronation?”

  “Why Margate?”

  “His sister lives there.”

  “Ah, well. Monsieur has a very brisk business, a renowned clientele in a very sophisticated seaside town and he abandons it just before one of the most hectic social events of the decade? That, my dear, does not make sense.”

  “No.” She was not proud of urging him to go. But he had, quickly. No questions asked. Why was that, she suddenly wondered. But he was gone. All to the good of his health and safety. “He will lose a considerable fortune for closing his shop.”

  “But he had to go, didn’t he?”

  She put a hand to her forehead. “I thought it wise, yes.”

  He rose and sat down beside her. His arms around her shoulders, he drew her near and put his lips to her temple. “You asked him to leave Brighton?”

  Oh, she had to reveal all. “I did. I told him to tell no one where he intended to go.”

  “And you did the same, I imagine.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I did.”

  Charlie sat back, his sad blue gaze in hers.

  She sat taller, mopping up the last of her tears. “Two weeks ago Wednesday, at five in the morning, I opened the shop to bake the morning bread. On the shore near the cliffs, I saw one man beating another.” The words were bitter in her mouth.

  “Sweetheart.” Charlie crushed her close. “Did he see you?”

  The secret she meant to keep forever burst out of her. “He did.”

  He went very still. “How close were you?”

  “Very. I was opening the door to the shop. You’ve been to Brighton. So you know how the promontory slopes to the seaside and the cliffs. Antoine’s shop stands at the summit of the slope so it’s possible to look straight down and see the doors to other shops dug into the cliffs. And as the sun came up and shone against the white chalk of the cliffs, I saw him beat a man until he did not move. I feared he killed him, Charlie.” She shuddered in his embrace and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Would that she could crawl inside him and dissolve, never to recall these hideous details again.

  He stroked her hair. “Do you know the victim?”

  “I do. Mister Heathmore who owns the tavern there.”

  “And do know his attacker?”

  “Not by name. No. But his looks, yes.”

  Charlie dropped a kiss to her hair. “And could he know your name?”

  “I’ve no idea. Though if he realized I was there to open the shop for the morning, he’d be able to ask about and learn it. He could find out where my rooms were on the Marine Parade.” All that set her to shuddering and she curled tightly to Charlie.

  “Tell me the rest. What you did. How you escaped him.”

  “He cursed at me, raised his fist and began to run up the slope. He’s young. Thirty perhaps, but portly and hasn’t the agility. He’s slow and clumsy. And I—I was so surprised. So shocked at what I’d seen that I never unlocked the shop door. I just…ran.” Horrified to reveal her cowardice, she broke apart. “I left. Oh, Charlie, I left that man there to that villain’s hand.”

  He made tiny circles on her arm, all in comfort. “You ran for safety. Jess, that’s understandable. What next?”

  “I went round to Antoine’s house, beat on his door. He ran down stairs and I told him all. He wanted to alert the night watch and left immediately. He told me to leave. That he’d take care of everything and told me to come to London. Disappear. He gave me money, enough to buy my coach ride to London, and a few meals. It was all the money he had from the day before. I didn’t want to take it but he insisted. Said he would go to a friend and ask for money to leave Brighton.”

  “And what did you do after that? Did you pack and come to London?”

  “No. No! I ran into the Lanes and awakened the local surgeon. I told him that an injured man lay down by the cliff. He grabbed his kit and ran off.”

  “Did you tell him you witnessed the attack?”

  She shook her head. “Just that I’d seen a man down and I thought he’d need help.”

  “So the surgeon knows you.”

  “He does. I do wonder if he was able to help him.”

  Charlie shook his head. “My darling, he was not. I’ve read that Heathmore is dead.”

  “No!” She gasped. “Oh if I’d—”

  “You did what you could. Be proud of that.”

  That summoned her courage as nothing else had. “I must go to make a statement to the Bow Street officers. I’ve put it off too long. I have to reclaim my pride and do the just thing.”

  “I will go with you, Jess.”

  She had to smile at him. “If you still think me worthy of your company.”

  “You are worthy, my dear, of more than my company. I know the memory of your mother’s travail sits heavily on your mind. We do not understand violence until we see it and fear shocks us into a prison we never sought. War, the cravenness of bloody battle, I know, shocks the soul. Scours any vestige of honor from the mind. And leaves you with little but fear it may come again and rob you of your reason.” He cupped her cheek and his blue eyes car
essed her with a balm for her wounded soul. “No wonder you sought safety. You have it, my darling.”

  “Tomorrow, I’ll go.”

  “We will. First thing. And you will emerge feeling like the old Jessica, valiant and strong.”

  Chapter 10

  “What do you think of it?” Jess stood, tossing the curls of her new coiffure, arms outstretched, as she faced Charlie that night in the drawing room. It was time for dinner and he’d invited her to have a glass of sherry with him before the meal. She’d donned the grass green crepe that the modiste had brought earlier as a sample, then hastily altered to fit her. The woman promised at least two more gowns tomorrow, shoes, hats and pelisses to match. Charlie had been adamant, the lady told Jess, that she provide the outfits by tomorrow morning at ten. One would be her apparel for their trip to Bow Street tomorrow. Other sets of finery would follow Friday. Tonight, Jess had promised herself to think only of the evening, her changed status, her sumptuous new clothes and the promise to herself that she would be proud of herself once again on the morrow.

  “Utterly charming.” His quick smile declared his approval long before he marched forward, a small crystal glass filled with golden sherry in his hand. “Are you pleased?”

  “I am. Terribly.” She accepted the glass, relishing the relief she felt at having told him her tale. She’d enjoyed a complete bath, head to toe, in the porcelain tub that graced her boudoir off her bedroom. He’d even assigned Mabel to be her lady’s maid. The girl had been ecstatic at the promotion and performed her duties well. Others had not been as accepting of Jess’s new status. “The house maids and Thomas were not happy to haul up all that bath water.”

  “If they said anything…”

  “They didn’t.” She took a sip and loved the smooth golden liquid as it glided down her throat. “They’ve been taught one set of rules all their lives. They cannot discard them in a day.”

  “Come. Sit beside me.” He took her hand and led her to the settee before the fire.

  A light rain had begun to fall in the late afternoon and a chill had rent the air, even though it was July. In her new gown with the low bodice and short sleeves, Jess welcomed the flames.