by Fran Baker
Lady Biskup folded her hands in her lap. “My dear boy, I feared that you were not Matthew’s son, but Reginald’s. I believed that he might have falsified your birth records in order to make you his heir.”
“You’re speaking in the past tense,” he noticed.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “My solicitor returned last night from Bellingsward, where he spoke with the retired surgeon who was attached to your father’s regiment when you were born.”
“Major Myles showed him proof, I assume?”
“His medical log, listing your name and your parents’ names.”
They said no more while Leeds oversaw the serving of their tea.
“Now,” Jonathan said when the servants had exited the salon, “how exactly would my being Lord Reginald’s son make Sophie my sister?”
“She is Reginald’s child,” Lady Biskup replied.
“I told you so!” Sophie said on a note of triumph. “And my mother?”
“My sister, Pamela, was your mother.”
Jonathan frowned. “But wouldn’t I have known your sister?”
Lady Biskup shook her head. “Pamela died when Sophie was three years old—well before Reginald brought you back from India.”
“Then I do remember her!” Sophie cried as she sorted through memories that were somewhat blurred by time. “She was the beautiful lady who leaned over me and smiled.”
“Yes,” Lady Biskup said, and began mopping at her eyes again.
“But . . .” Sophie bit her lip. “If I’m Lord Reginald’s daughter, why did he make such a mystery of it?”
Lady Biskup reached over to take her niece’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “Because you’re”—she lowered her voice—“illegitimate, my dear. Reginald was unable to marry your mother, much to her sorrow.” She shook her head unhappily. “He made a dreadful mistake when he married Emma—I don’t believe they were able to endure each other’s company for more than a few weeks. But she flatly refused to give him his freedom and allow him to marry Pamela.”
She sighed and sat back. “Such a tragedy! Such a hideous blot on our family name if it had become known. And Pamela never seemed to be aware of the enormity of her crime, such a charming, lighthearted girl. ‘All will come right in the end, Ruth,’ she used to say to me. I pleaded with her and with Reginald to use discretion. But they refused to heed me. They allowed their love to triumph over their judgment. When Pamela discovered she was with child, Reginald hid her in the Dower House—he couldn’t bear to be separated from her.”
She touched her handkerchief to her watery eyes before continuing. “One day Pamela went for a stroll on the beach, and when she returned, she was feeling ill. Before morning she was dead. Reginald was inconsolable. Only then did Emma agree to a divorce.”
Jonathan scowled out a snow-swept window. “But you were wrong not to tell Sophie the truth, Aunt Ruth. I can’t see why you and Lord Reginald held it back from her all these years. Have you any idea what torture you’ve put her through?”
“But if we’d confided in her, it would have been the same as announcing it to the world.” Lady Biskup turned to her niece and gave her hand another squeeze. “You’re the dearest creature in the world, my sweet, and I love you with all my heart. But you’re also the most innocent and frank, and you would certainly have confided your awful secret long ago—perhaps to Jeanette or to another friend—and would now be a pariah in the eyes of the ton. Reginald and I were determined that you were to have an opportunity to contract a proper marriage without being required to suffer for the indiscretions of your parents.”
Jonathan nodded thoughtfully. “I can see some logic in that, I must admit.”
“You must never divulge the truth, either of you,” Lady Biskup cautioned them. “In addition to ruining your own life, Sophie, you would blacken your mother’s name. And you’d draw the scorn of society to dear Reginald.”
“My parents’ secret will die with me,” Sophie vowed in a solemn voice.
“Now, you must tell me everything that happened last night, both of you.” Lady Biskup barely stifled a yawn. “But first we should all have a little lie-down.”
* * * *
Shortly before tea Jeanette and Fairmont paid a call with Nicky and Ellen. At the sight of Sophie, Jeanette’s lips began to tremble, and the two girls rushed into each other’s arms, Jeanette weeping freely into Sophie’s hair and Sophie eventually joining her in stifled sobs. Lady Biskup sat on a settee, fluttering her handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. Fairmont stood in front of the fireplace speaking in an undertone with Jonathan and Nicky.
When eyes had been dried and everyone was again breathing normally, Fairmont asked Sophie if she would be willing to recount her adventures again.
“If it is not too painful for you,” he added.
“Certainly not,” she assured him. “The truth must be known so that there won’t be other victims of this dreadful den of thieves.”
Leaving the others to assume she had followed Miss Baxter at Albert’s behest, she proceeded to describe what she’d found at the inn. An occasional squeak of fresh horror from Lady Biskup and shudders from Jeanette and Ellen punctuated her story. During the tale Jonathan remained by the fireplace, his face growing sterner by the minute.
Nicky struck a fist onto a nearby lamp table when she had finished. “Dash it all!” he exploded. “This sort of thing can’t be allowed!”
“Yes,” Fairmont agreed. “It’s even worse than I dared suppose.”
“You should contact the Bow Street runners and take a regiment into the area, if necessary, to clean out that scum,” Nicky said to Jonathan.
Sophie pressed a hand to her mouth. “What do you mean to do, Jonathan?”
“I mean to stamp out these vermin,” he told her. “I’ll pay a call on the Lord Mayor today.”
“I’ll go with you,” Fairmont said.
“Me, too,” Nicky chimed in.
Jonathan gave them a nod of appreciation. “But first, gentlemen, I have someone I want you to meet, a Mr. Daniel Griffin. He can lead us to the inn.” He gave the ladies a formal bow. “If you’ll excuse us . . .”
“I’m relieved to hear that they intend to employ the resources of the city rather than mount a frontal attack on the inn,” Jeanette said when the men had gone.
Ellen frowned. “The most shocking thing of all is Albert de Lisle’s behavior. It is difficult to realize that anyone of exalted birth could be so evil.”
“Desperate men do desperate things,” Lady Biskup intoned.
In due time Jeanette and Ellen departed in Fairmont’s carriage. During the remainder of the afternoon, Sophie kept rushing to the window every time there was the sound of hoofbeats or carriage wheels in the square. It was only by practicing Herculean restraint that she was able to resist asking her aunt every few seconds, “Why has Jonathan not returned?”
He was still abroad at dinnertime, which surprised them both. Before they had completed their meal, they allowed themselves the luxury of speculating and indulging in a modicum of anxiety.
“Is it possible Jonathan has fallen into Albert’s clutches after all?” Sophie wondered, her chin trembling. “Do you think Albert may have been freed and then laid in wait for him and murdered him in cold blood?”
“No, no,” Lady Biskup protested, though in a less-than-convincing tone. “He would certainly be able to defend himself. He has taken Fairmont and Nicky with him. And both of the guards he employed insisted on accompanying him, though I was not easy in my mind about seeing Jim out of his bed so soon after his misadventures at the Frost Fair.”
When it was finally time to retire, Sophie was further alarmed to discover a red-eyed Anna waiting in her rooms to undress her.
“Whatever is the matter?” she asked her. “Have you and Johnnie Aysgarth quarreled?”
“In a way, miss,” Anna admitted, but then stoutly refused to confide more.
* * * *
Morning dawned with no news of Jon
athan. Anna went about her business with a face as glum as any Sophie had ever seen. To help relieve some of her own concern, Sophie dug into her jewelry box for the diamond and sapphire earring she had kept hidden all these years and carried it to her Aunt Ruth’s room.
Lady Biskup was sitting upright in bed, a ruffled cap drawn over her hair while she sipped hot tea with cream from her favorite antique cup.
Sophie showed her the earring.
“Yes,” her aunt said. “Check in my jewelry case—the bottom layer. If I’m not mistaken, you’ll find its mate there.”
Sophie dug into the box and drew out a matching diamond and sapphire earring.
“Those were Pamela’s earrings,” Lady Biskup told her. “Arthur gave them to her when they discovered that you were expected. Now the pair is yours.”
At that moment, Lettie entered the room with a note on a silver salver.
“Ah,” Lady Biskup said, “this will be a letter from Jonathan, putting our minds at ease.” She unfolded the paper, and a look of alarm crossed her face. “But no! What is this? It’s from Blanche, and is all scratches and blots. If I can decipher it . . . What can this mean?”
Suddenly she realized that Lettie was standing nearby, listening with interest.
“Would you please bring a cup for Miss Sophie?” she asked her maid. “She would like to have some tea.”
As soon as Lettie had departed, Lady Biskup turned to Sophie with a scowl. “Listen to this: ‘You wretched creatures . . .’ Yes, I assure you, that’s what it says. ‘Ruining our lives . . . my precious son and Fairmont . . . murdered last night.’ Good God! And then there are a great many blotches and scratches and . . . yes, I believe a tear has fallen here—there is an enormous smear.”
“What can it mean?” Sophie asked. “Have Nicky and Fairmont been murdered?”
At that moment Lettie entered the room with Sophie’s teacup.
“Perhaps you can enlighten us, Lettie. Have you heard rumors of Mr. Nicholas Althorpe or the earl of Fairmont coming to grief?”
“No, m’lady,” she said. “I believe they were victorious.”
“Vic—what happened?”
“Master Jon—er, Lord Jonathan led a sort of expedition across the river last night. I’m not quite sure of the details, but Johnnie Aysgarth was there, m’lady.”
Sophie perked up. “Is Johnnie back?”
“Yes, miss. He be downstairs.” She turned to Lady Biskup. “Mayhap m’lady would wish to have him give you a more accurate account.”
“I certainly would,” Lady Biskup confirmed.
As soon as Sophie and Lady Biskup were dressed, they made their way quickly down to the library, where Johnnie Aysgarth was waiting for them. He was sporting a sticking plaster over his left eyebrow and a bruise along the right side of his jaw, but he was in excellent spirits and was eager to share his adventures with his mistress.
“Aye, m’lady, it were a grand brawl,” he told her, chuckling. “Twenty-four went from this hoos and fifty-four from t’others—Althorpes’, Fairmonts’ and even Fergusons’. We was eighty-two men strong.”
“Eighty-two!” Lady Biskup cried.
“Aye, an’ it were none too many, m’lady.”
By the time he had babbled out his tale, including a vivid reenactment of his bout with a denizen of the innkeeper’s who had been “big as a ’orse an’ twicet as vicious,” and after Sophie and Lady Biskup had asked a great many questions, they were able to piece the story together.
Jonathan, Fairmont and Nicky had left Vaile House with Daniel Griffin in tow and had gone to visit the Lord Mayor. Jonathan had recounted his and Sophie’s adventures and demanded that steps be taken to “clean out those hell holes on the other side of the Thames.”
The Lord Mayor had shaken his hands helplessly, citing statistics that dealt with the limited number of men available for such a task, the limited funds available for the provision of weapons, and the vast number of pressing obligations that weighed down on these already meager resources. He had ended by suggesting that the facilities at Bow Street might be employed to some advantage.
Jonathan and his friends had promptly visited Bow Street, where they had been cordially received by the man in charge. But here they discovered that only three runners were available to assist in any number of crises, as the others were all abroad in the countryside and were being held captive by the heavy snowfall. From there, Jonathan, Fairmont and Nicky made their way to Ferguson’s house for a conference.
The four men had agreed that times were indeed dire, that conditions within the realm had deteriorated shockingly since medieval days, and that the role of the gentleman in English society was to protect the weak from oppression and the country from depravity. They decided to round up a force of stout men and rid the city of certain dregs of the earth.
Shortly after midnight a small army of men led by Jonathan and guided by Daniel Griffin made a swift sortie across the river. They raided the inn, where, after a fierce battle, they subdued over seventy ruffians, including that nasty little coachman. The prisoners were shackled into several carts and sent off to the nearest prison. Miss Baxter was escorted home to her ailing mother and given a stern warning to never leave the old lady alone again.
“But what of Mr. de Lisle?” Sophie asked Johnnie Aysgarth.
“We didn’t see ’im when we coom in the inn, so Lord Jonathan ran up to th’ room at th’ top o’ th’ stairs.”
“And?” she prompted.
“De Lisle were layin’ in the dark, trussed up like a Christmas turkey.”
* * * *
Shortly after noon Sophie heard muffled sounds in the dining room below her. With a bound she flew out of her chair and raced out into the hall.
The noises had stopped. She waited a moment, listening, and then tiptoed down the stairs and over to the dining room door.
When she peered in, she discovered to her delight that Jonathan was sitting at one end of the table slumped forward with his face buried on his arms.
As if he sensed her standing there, he raised his head, smiled at her, and held out his arms. “Come kiss me, beloved, before one of our well-meaning attendants blunders in and spoils our reunion.”
Sophie threw herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He gave her a long, urgent kiss.
“But where have you been?” she asked when he drew away to catch his breath.
“Daniel Griffin and I loaded Albert De Lisle into a cart and took him to prison, and I stayed to speak with the magistrate.”
Sophie leaned her head against his shoulder. “Now that he’s where he belongs we can think of more important things, like announcing our engagement.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “Let’s announce our wedding. I’m not too keen on the idea of waiting until April or June, and going through all that nonsense. I feel as though I’ve waited five years already, which is more than long enough. If I get a special license, will you marry me tomorrow?’
“Tomorrow?” Her voice showed her surprise.
He put a finger under her chin, lifted her face. “Then I can take you home to the Priory with me when I go there on business next week.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “I really want to go home.”
“Promise me something,” he said, looking into her glowing brown eyes.
“Yes?” she said, her smile igniting from his.
“No ducks at our wedding.”
“No ducks,” she agreed on a laugh.
And they sealed the bargain with a kiss.
Copyright © 2014 by Fran Baker
Originally published by Delphi Books
Electronically published in 2014 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
