by May Burnett
“From outside the house looked large, but not as huge as this.”
“That is because we have a double lot, with a small inner garden and a second entrance in a parallel street. Pell house is twice as deep as the buildings around it. The ballroom downstairs runs the whole length. Here, you can see the garden from our bedroom windows.”
Emily peered downwards, but only saw the crown of a tree, or was it several? Hard to tell from this vantage point. Anthony made to open the window, but Emily shook her head.
“We don’t have time – the servants will be assembling soon.”
“Emily.” Anthony took her hands in his. “You are their mistress. They will wait on your convenience. Never feel that you must hurry – you can live on your own schedule. Well, and mine to some extent, but I shall make sure not to ask too much of you.”
“Thank you,” Emily swallowed. “It is still so strange, to think of myself as an important personage. If you had heard how my uncles in Verona talked of getting rid of us, -“
“They are fools, and I don’t want you to waste another moment on that memory. You are most important to me, and to everyone in this house. Never forget it for an instant.”
“Very well,” she agreed. “Still, let’s not make them wait long. I would prefer to get this over with sooner rather than later. Can you tell me now who are the principal members of your – I mean, our – staff?”
***
In the end, the presentation of the assembled staff was not such an ordeal. Emily nodded graciously and talked a little with the housekeeper, the cook, and the head housemaid, accepting the housekeeper’s suggestion to show her over the house afterwards.
“I had better check on my messages and letters right away,” Anthony said apologetically. “You will find me in my study when you are done.”
Emily nodded. She would not be hanging on his sleeve all the time, like a child.
Compared to the byzantine twists of the Casa Mardiglio, it was simplicity itself to memorize the layout of Pell House. Mrs Bocking pointed out the room assigned to Margaret, but they passed by it without disturbing her sister. The ballroom was indeed enormous, and so was the dining room, which could seat up to one hundred and twenty. However, Emily was not enthusiastic that these rooms took up so much space – after all, how often was she going to entertain?
She restrained herself from asking the housekeeper. She was the mistress; she would entertain as often or as rarely as Anthony and she felt like it.
The picture gallery, evidence of former Lord Pells’ passion for collecting art, deserved a visit of its own when she had the time to admire every detail. She wondered where Anthony would place the new purchases he had told her about, that he had ordered shipped back from India, Rome and Florence. The walls here were full already. But of course this was only one of his several residences.
She encouraged the housekeeper to talk and explain, not saying much herself.
After they had inspected the principal rooms she insisted on seeing the kitchens too, where she found Signora Tarcassi enjoying tea and muffins. The sight reminded her that teatime was close.
“Your tea is usually served in the yellow sitting room, milady,” the housekeeper told her as they went back towards Anthony’s study, next to the large library. “Please let us know if you prefer to have it somewhere else.”
“What about dinner? That dining room is much too big for daily use.”
“The family usually eats in the Copper Room, off the bigger dining room. But it will be your decision, of course, how it will be in future.”
Emily nodded, not committing herself yet. “Let’s continue as before for the time being.” She would consult Anthony before instituting any major changes. Margaret might also have useful suggestions to offer.
“Milord’s study is through here, milady.”
“Thank you, Mrs Bocking. That will be all.”
The housekeeper retired with a curtsy. That had gone reasonably well.
Emily pushed open the door to the study, and stood immobile in shock and dismay. Anthony was hugging a beautiful, dark-haired lady to his chest, – within an hour of their return! Who was this hussy?
“Hello,” she said coldly.
“Emily!” He turned round, not the least embarrassed or guilty. “Good that you are here, I was about to send Gordon after you. This is my sister Marianne. I have told you all about her.”
His sister? The green eyes the lady shared with Anthony proved the truth of his assertion. Emily felt like the greatest fool on earth. Jealousy was stupid in the best case, but when misplaced –
“I am very happy to meet you at last, Lady Amberley.” She forced a smile onto her lips.
“What do you mean, Lady Amberley?” Anthony exclaimed. “You must be Emily and Marianne to each other, as my two closest relatives in the world.”
“I am overjoyed to welcome you to the family,” Marianne said. From close by, she was even more beautiful, though she must be older than Anthony. Age did not matter to a woman that sophisticated. Emily would not be able to emulate the Lady Amberley in a hundred years.
Something of her feelings must have been visible in her expression, for the Countess smiled ruefully. “You are wary, and no wonder, but I am determined that we shall be friends. I am not easily rebuffed.”
Emily pulled herself together. “I would be honoured if you called me Emily, and your offer of friendship is also most welcome. I shall need advice how to go on in Anthony’s circles, as I have been used to a very different and much simpler life.”
“One would not think it, to look at your dress,” the Countess said. “That was not made by any English seamstress.”
“We stopped on the way in Lyons, and bought a few items. But it was my sister and my maid who did the choosing, for the most part.”
“Your sister? Anthony mentioned her in his letter,” Marianne said. “Is she also here?”
“Indeed,” Anthony said, “and I would like you to bend your talents to introducing her to society, and some eligible gentlemen, Marianne. Margaret is intelligent and beautiful, and will have ten thousand pounds. But do not put any pressure on her; she should look around carefully before making a choice.”
“Ten thousand pounds?” Emily stared at him. “From you?”
“Anthony can easily afford it,” Marianne assured her.
“There are at least two young men I know of, who were seriously interested in Margaret,” Anthony explained, “but from one circumstance or another, it never amounted to a betrothal. We must ensure she is only courted by men of substance and character.”
“That is easier said than done,” Marianne warned.
Emily had to agree. “How are we to know a man’s firmness of purpose, when at the beginning of an acquaintance he will not know himself how far his feelings are engaged? I collect one of the two men is Sir Conrad, our cousin. Who is the other?”
“That is not for me to tell.”
“Who is this Sir Conrad?” Marianne asked.
“Our first cousin, Sir Conrad Bolland, our mother’s nephew,” Emily explained. “My mother was a Bolland before her unfortunate marriage.”
“Not as unfortunate as all that, since you would not exist without it, and neither would Margaret,” Anthony contradicted her. “That reminds me, I have not yet seen a report from the courier we sent to escort your mother. I hope she will arrive in England soon, as your mother must certainly be present at our third and final wedding.”
“What is that?” his sister demanded. “Three weddings? Why and where? Can I help in any way?”
“Our first wedding was in Verona, but we both had doubts of its validity,” Anthony summarized. “The second, in Geneva, was valid enough, but insufficient for the, ah, dignity of our position. I promised Emily that we would have a traditional English wedding in her home parish of Bankington. It would be desirable for her mother to attend; so it will have to wait a few weeks at the very least.”
“I do not mind waitin
g,” Emily said, “if Mother can be there, that would be perfect. It will mean a great deal to her.”
Marianne had an abstracted look on her face, as though performing complicated inner calculations. “A delay of some weeks will also make it easier for the guests to include the journey in their schedules, and you cannot leave London anyway in the near future, – George wants you at hand for an important bill coming up next week in the Lords – that where he is right now, - and certainly not before I have given a dinner party or ball to introduce Emily and Margaret to our friends.”
“It makes sense,” Anthony said to Emily, who nodded, a little overwhelmed by the speed with which things were happening. “Thank you, Marianne.”
“What about Thursday next? I already have a small affair planned for that date, it will be easy enough to expand it. And so that you might know at least some of the guests beforehand, a small intimate dinner the day after tomorrow? With Rook and Anna and James and Charlotte, Minerva and Henry, and a few more?”
“We are obliged to you,” Anthony assured his sister. Emily nodded her agreement. What was a ‘small affair’ for the Countess, and how far would it be expanded?
She could do this. Of course she could.
Chapter 27
Do not bother with underlings if you can deal directly with a principal.
Maxims for Young Gentlewomen, Vol. 2, by a Lady (1824)
Anthony had not been in town for three days – and what hectic, full days they had been! – when he was ushered by a deferential clerk into the office of Colonel Peter Worrington, at the War Office.
Colonel Worrington was not known to the general public, for good reason; but a few quiet words among his colleagues in the Lords had allowed Anthony to identify the officer in charge of gathering military intelligence on the Continent. He must be the commanding officer of that Major Andrews who had recruited Margaret Bellairs into his network of informers.
Colonel Worrington was polite enough, but if he had guessed at the reason for Anthony’s visit, he was dissembling well with his slightly puzzled air. Perhaps he was a consummate actor despite the bluff face.
“What can I do for you, my lord? I understand you have just returned from Asia, via the Continent – can it be that during your travels you have garnered some news of interest to us?”
From the tone it was clear he had little expectation of anything useful from a rank amateur, but would humour him up to a point.
“No, Colonel, I do not come to offer information. Rather, I would like to know how it was possible for your office to ensnare an innocent well-born young lady, still under age at the time, in espionage. An amateur who very nearly ended up hanged, yet only received meagre pocket money for her efforts! I consider this unconscionable, and would raise the matter in the Lords, if family considerations did not prevent me from airing the matter in public. However, I wanted to express to you my most profound disapprobation. Your office exploited a girl’s desperate and tragic circumstances in a way that I cannot condone.”
The Colonel’s brows darkened; his spine stiffened and his lips were pressed together in strong annoyance by the time Anthony had finished his little speech.
“I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about, Lord Pell. We do not recruit young ladies. The very idea! Our informers are seasoned men who know what they are getting into, and I deeply resent the implication that we took advantage of an innocent.”
“Yet that is what happened according to my information. A Major Thomas Andrews was responsible for this outrageous action, some two years ago, and was the contact for the information provided, as well as the source for the meagre compensation. Does this man work for you?”
“Andrews? Nobody of that name works here. You are obviously the victim of a misunderstanding, or possibly a hoax, my lord.”
“Maybe one of your men used a false name,” Anthony retorted, irked at the Colonel’s air of weary condescension. Fortunately he had foreseen this possibility. He drew a folded paper out of his pocket, and held it out to the officer. “This is a sketch of the man who duped a young girl into working for him.”
Margaret’s skill at drawing had not deserted her when he had requested the portrait. The Colonel stared at the sketch for a few long seconds, while his face reddened to an almost alarming shade.
“Gregory!” he shouted for his clerk. “Get Robson in here! Now!”
“Do I take it then, that you recognize the man, but the name was false?” Anthony asked.
“We shall soon get to the bottom of this affair. The sketch certainly resembles Captain Robson, one of my men. I have never heard of this Major Andrews you mentioned.”
Not two minutes later the clerk ushered an officer in his early thirties into the bureau. Anthony had to marvel how well his sister-in-law had caught the man’s likeness with a few simple lines of charcoal on paper, after a single meeting two years earlier.
“See here, Robson,” the Colonel said, “have you ever used the name of Major Andrews?”
The sudden pallor on the Captain’s countenance was answer enough.
“I can see it on your face,” Worrington said. “Only a full confession will serve you now. Can it really be that you recruited a girl to furnish military information to us?”
“I don’t see what was wrong with that, Sir, with due respect,” the Captain protested. “It is true I used a different name, because it was in the nature of an experiment. Through acquaintances I had learned, by chance, that a family of English ladies was about to move to Verona, to stay with noble relatives there.”
“Verona?” The Colonel jerked in surprise. “You cannot mean -!”
“Indeed, Sir, my hunch that it might be useful to recruit one of these ladies paid off in spades. I do not see anything wrong with it even now. You yourself expressed approbation more than once for the quality and timeliness of the reports provided by ‘Aguila’, our man in Verona. Those sketches of the military quarters and manoeuvres, the evaluation of local politics, the potential for unrest – she provided as useful information as any of our paid informers, Sir.”
Anthony was astonished. He had not realised that Margaret’s activities had been as varied and wide-reaching as that. No wonder the Austrians had been trying to catch her so assiduously.
“But – a young lady!” The Colonel was wrestling with surprise and wrath. “Had I known that Aguila was a female –“
“That is mere prejudice, Sir, I submit, as the information was invariably correct and borne out by other sources.”
Anthony had listened to this argument with growing impatience. “Well, I consider it reckless and irresponsible to risk a young girl’s neck. She might have ended with her head in a noose, when she was discovered at last, had I not received warning in the nick of time. We had to flee over Swiss border, a damnably large distance, I might add. What were you thinking of? And for so little money, that your informant could not even have financed her own escape? That is almost the worst of the whole story.”
“We do not pay that poorly,” the Colonel said stiffly.
The Captain’s face had once again assumed a paler cast. He was sweating, though the room was by no means overheated.
“Ask him how much of the money he pocketed himself,” Anthony suggested to the Colonel. His travels had taught him a tolerably correct estimate of opportunism and venality. “I suspect that his idea of recruiting a young woman in dire straits, and hiding her identity, was not motivated by an open-minded confidence in the powers of the female sex. Rather, it would have offered a chance to swindle both his employer and the recruit, in the way of dishonest middlemen in every time and country.”
“Ha!” The Colonel’s face was a study in stunned fury. Robson quailed and began to shake visibly.
“I see you are right, my lord,” the Colonel said. “Gregory!”
The clerk was ordered to conduct Robson to a cell, where he would be thoroughly interrogated.
Once the Captain had been escorted outside – wi
thout resistance or further protest – the Colonel shook his head.
“I am sorry I did not take you seriously at first, my lord, and grateful that you brought this case to my attention. This wretch will be dealt with – stealing money from the Crown is a very serious affair.”
“Strictly speaking, he was stealing it from the young lady rather than the Crown, as she delivered full value for a fraction of the going rate, if I do not mistake the matter,” Anthony pointed out. “She is owed an apology, and the balance of the funds.”
The Colonel blinked at this view of the matter. “Did you not say that this young lady is connected to your family? Surely a lady with such august connections cannot be in need of compensation for such a sordid undertaking as espionage.”
This man was in charge of a spy network, and yet expressed contempt for what he himself ordered and organised? Did he not see the hypocrisy? From his expression, apparently not. Anthony did not bother to hide his irritation. “You are no better than your subordinate, Colonel. I certainly wish my sister-in-law had not been recruited by that unscrupulous Captain, but since she risked her life and that of her sister, the very least you can do is to offer financial restitution. I shall discover from her what she actually received, and you can make up the difference. It would be most unfortunate had I to come here again on such a distasteful errand.”
“It will be done,” the Colonel said reluctantly. “Though I might point out she would never have received full pay, had we been aware of her gender.”
“This urge to exploit the weaker sex does not reflect well on you, Colonel. I consider it less than gentlemanly.”
“But then a lady would not have got involved in such activities, for money, in the first place.”
“Listen, Worrington,” Anthony found it hard to contain his fury – this Colonel was even worse than his corrupt Captain. “It is the outside of enough for you, who has just been shown to have a thief and liar among your staff, to turn up your nose at activities from which our country has supposedly benefited. That reminds me. If the slightest whisper of this affair reaches my ears – if anyone in your office talks or my sister-in-law is connected with the very idea of espionage, in any way, I shall make it my business to see that all your activities are audited, and your budget severely curtailed. You do not want to make an enemy out of me.”
