by C. J. Archer
Warhurst’s eyes narrowed. “This is not something you can muddle through, Mistress Croft. If Enderby discovers your true identity—”
“He won’t.” She tilted her chin. “If Freddie can be a lady then so can I. I at least have the right shape.”
His gaze shifted to her chest. She cleared her throat and he raised his eyes to meet hers. His face flushed. “Then we’re agreed,” she said, standing. “I’ll speak to Patience directly. And Min. I’ll need her to publicly invite me back to her house tonight so that Father won’t worry. I’m sure she’ll understand when she hears what we’re up to.”
“Tonight?” he said. “Will you be prepared by then?”
“I’ll have to be. The sooner we do this the better. For Lilly’s and Hawkesbury’s sakes.” And for hers. It was time she severed all contact with Warhurst except for correspondence relating to the shop. If she couldn’t have him then she wanted nothing to do with him.
It was the only way.
CHAPTER 19
Alice couldn’t believe how easily everything fell into place. Patience readily agreed to the plan, telling Alice she would prepare a story to satisfy her parents’ curiosity about her new friend. Min played her part and asked Alice in the tiring house, loudly, if she would like to stay the night again so they could work on her wedding gown together by candlelight. John Croft gave his permission without demur. Before they went on stage for the afternoon’s performance, Will Shakespeare and Henry Wells taught Alice to speak with the clipped accents of the gentry, and even Freddie showed her how to walk as if she were born to privilege. Only Shakespeare asked her why she wanted lessons in becoming a lady but he didn’t press her when she gave a vague answer.
After the performance, she folded the costumes for herself and Warhurst and carefully placed them in a valise. She told her father they required mending and she’d do it at Min’s since his eyes were too weak to work by candlelight. She then went to meet Warhurst behind the copse of trees to the east of the theatre. He wasn’t there and since the copse offered seclusion, she changed into her costume, but it was the devil’s business to fasten the hooks at the gown’s back.
“Allow me.”
She knew that voice as well as she knew the fingers brushing the nape of her neck as Warhurst fastened her gown. Without speaking, she handed him the small ruff and he fixed it at her throat. His breath warmed her ear and rustled her hair as he bent to his task. When he finished, he stepped back and she sighed at the loss of contact.
“You wore that the first time we met,” he said.
She looked down at the full crimson skirts. “So I did.” It was the gown she’d tried on at the White Swan’s tiring house. She’d adjusted it only a little for Freddie and it was still a reasonable fit although tight in the chest.
Warhurst’s eyes were hooded but she knew he was watching her. She could feel the heat from their smoldering depths burning into the back of her neck. He still wanted her. Knowing that didn’t help settle her nerves. She’d been looking forward to their adventure but now she wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. Being anywhere near him wasn’t a good idea anymore, and tonight they would be alone again. The separation of their sleeping quarters would hardly be a barrier if he kept looking at her like he wanted to eat her.
“I have your costume in the bag.” She bent and retrieved his groom’s woolen hose and leather jerkin.
“You should call me Leo for the time being,” he said, accepting the garments from her.
“Leo.” It rolled nicely off her tongue.
“And I have something for you, my lady.” He removed a small pouch from his doublet pocket and took her hand. He turned it palm up. “These belong to my mother but I haven’t seen her wear them for some time. I doubt she’ll miss them for one night.” He emptied the contents of the pouch onto her palm.
She gasped. A pair of emerald drop earrings nestled beside an emerald pendant hung on a gold chain. She looked up at him, directly into another set of emeralds of the exact same shade as the gems.
“They’re beautiful.” She wasn’t sure if she meant the jewelry or his eyes.
He grunted and turned away. “Don’t lose them,” he said, removing his riding cloak.
She put on the earrings and necklace—which didn’t quite suit the red gown but were beautiful anyway—while he dressed then packed their regular clothes into the valise. When he turned around, he paused with his hat in his hand and blinked at her.
“Is something wrong?” she prompted.
“No. It’s just that you look…the part.” He didn’t elaborate but picked up the valise and led her out of the trees to two horses tied to a post.
“I hadn’t thought about transportation,” she said.
“You thought of everything else. Anyway, as the groom it’s my task to organize the horses.” He strapped the valise to the big bay’s saddle. Beside it stood the gentle mare she’d ridden to Crouch End. He must have hired it for her.
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” she said, patting the mare’s neck. “I could have walked.”
“You need to arrive in style. I thought you might prefer a familiar horse.” He helped her onto the saddle and gave her the reins. “Back straight,” he said. “Not that straight. Relax a little. That’s it. Now look down your nose at everyone.”
She tried but it hurt her eyes.
“Not quite what I meant.” He rubbed the mare’s nose. “Just pretend you own her as well as those gems you’re wearing. You even own me.”
Their gazes locked until he turned away and mounted his own horse. She stared at his broad shoulders as he gathered the reins and guided the gelding to the road.
Imagine owning him…
She couldn’t help smiling a little and squared her shoulders at the thought.
“Much better,” he said.
Her horse plodded along behind his, content to follow the handsome creature prancing in front of her. Alice didn’t mind in the least. She quite enjoyed the view of man and beast. Her hat slipped to the side and she straightened her head and raised her chin. Ladies didn’t ogle their grooms.
They crossed the bridge and headed north then east along Candlewick Street. A gentleman walking by tipped his hat to Alice. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said. He smiled at her and kept watching her long after they’d passed him. She knew because she turned in the saddle to see.
Good lord, how remarkable! That gentleman had just called her madam. His kind wouldn’t normally see her let alone speak to her.
A moment later another gentleman did the same, then another. She smiled at them both and bid them “Good afternoon” in her schooled accent.
When it happened a fourth time, Warhurst dropped back to be alongside her. “You don’t have to acknowledge all of them.”
“Why not? This is fun.”
He grunted. “And I was worried about how you would pull this off,” he muttered.
“I should go out in the troupe’s costumes more often. I quite like the reaction.”
“It’s not just the clothes,” he admitted gruffly. “Although you are very…striking in that gown.”
Striking? Was that a good thing? “The jewels and horse help too, of course.”
“Is that what you think?”
She blinked at him. “Well, yes. Those are the only things that are different.”
He kicked his horse into a trot until he was ahead of her again, leading the way through the late-afternoon throng leaving St. Paul’s. The booksellers who used the churchyard to trade their wares were closing for the day, but a crowd still gathered to listen to the tales of sailors who’d defeated the Armada the year before, or have their forecasts read by astrologers or their humors balanced by charlatans. Servants looking for work begged Alice to employ them. Such a great lady must have need of a cook, maid, or groom. Lads darted about posting handbills, and Alice noted with satisfaction that the ones touting the new play by Lord Hawkesbury’s Players gathered the most interest.
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br /> Warhurst’s horse danced nervously but he kept it under control with what appeared to be minimal effort. Alice’s mare maintained a steady pace but she was glad to leave the busy churchyard behind and head out through Ludgate, over the Fleet River, and onto The Strand with its grand houses and fewer people. They stopped outside the gates to a mansion farther along that wasn’t as large as Lord Hawkesbury’s but still impressive with its brick façade, multiple gables, and extensive glass windows.
“We’re here,” Warhurst said. He lowered his hat over his eyes and walked his horse through the stone arch, nodding at the gatekeeper. The servant must have been expecting them because he let them through without question.
The horses’ hooves crunched on the gravel drive and they were still several yards from the house when the front door opened and Patience blew out, a broad smile on her face. “Alice! I’ve been watching for you all afternoon. It’s so good to see you.”
Alice dismounted and allowed Patience to kiss both her cheeks and tuck her hand through her arm. She dared not look back at Warhurst. Er, Leo. Her groom. Hers.
“Come in, come in,” Patience said, drawing Alice inside. “You look tired after your long journey.” She turned to a liveried servant hovering in the doorway. “Bellows, take Mistress Croft’s valise from her man then direct him to the stables. See to it he’s taken care of tonight.”
The servant hurried to do her bidding but Warhurst gave him the reins instead of the valise. “I’ll take my lady’s belongings to her room. Wait here.”
Inside the house, Alice sidled up to him. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “You’re not supposed to give orders and you’re not supposed to be in the house. You might be seen.”
“I want to see which room you’ll be staying in. It might be important later.”
Alice’s heart skidded to a thudding halt. She swallowed. Later. He would come to her.
“Follow me,” Patience said. “Quickly.”
They followed her up the wooden staircase to the second floor and through a series of adjoining rooms to a spacious bedchamber. A small fire warmed the air and the smell of smoke mingled with a faint scent of lavender. “This will be yours for tonight, Alice,” Patience said. She went to the window and peered down. Alice and Warhurst joined her. The room overlooked a small formal garden, an orchard speckled with late-season apples beyond it. To the side was a cobbled yard backing onto the stables and either a brewery or bakery.
“I should be able to climb up,” Warhurst said to no one in particular.
Alice put her hands on her hips. “You will not try to climb up here! We’ll let you in through a door downstairs.” Patience nodded although she didn’t appear too certain about that plan either. “That’s if we think we need your help,” Alice added.
“You’ll let me in through this window whether you think you need my help or not,” he said. “This is my family’s problem and I’ll give the orders.”
“Nonsense. Don’t be so obstinate.”
“Do not let the role you are playing go to your head, Mistress Croft. You cannot order me about.”
She forked an eyebrow and gave him a smile. He sighed and straightened. “Why do I think I’m going to regret this?”
“You won’t regret it,” she said.
He didn’t look entirely convinced but launched into the plan for the evening. “You can lead us to your father’s study,” he said to Patience. “Hopefully the letter is in there. Mistress Croft, do you think you can locate Patience’s bedchamber in the dark?”
“It’s easy,” Patience said, pointing to a door. “It’s straight through our shared withdrawing room there. Wake me up when you’re ready.” She said nothing about letting him in downstairs. It seemed she wasn’t as concerned about Warhurst falling and breaking his neck. Alice looked out the window again. Her room was a long way up.
“I’d better go.” He doffed his cap and bowed but somehow managed to show not the least bit of courtesy or submission. “Until later,” he said, and left the two women alone.
Later. There was that promise again. A shiver of pleasure swept across her skin before she forced herself to remember that they were there for one thing—to get Hawkesbury’s letter.
“Supper will be served early evening and I think you should rest until then,” Patience said. “We both should. It might be a long night.” She showed none of the cheerful familiarity she’d displayed on Alice’s arrival, but that was to be expected. It seemed she was a consummate actress as well. And here everyone thought only men made good players.
“You look better,” Alice said. “Not quite so green.”
“It’s a good day.” Patience lifted the gold pomander hanging from her girdle and put it to her nose. “The sickness comes and goes on a whim.”
Alice squeezed her hand. “Have you received news of Richard Farley since Warhurst and I paid him a visit?”
A small smile flickered across Patience’s lips and her face flushed. “He can’t write to me here, of course. Father would confiscate his letters. But he found a way to send me a note. He says he’ll be ready to wed me as soon as your plan bears fruit and I am free of Lord Hawkesbury.” She pressed the pomander to her lips as if the gold filigree were her lover’s mouth. “He’s concerned that he can’t offer me the sort of life I’m used to, but I don’t care. As long as I’m with him, I’ll not want for another luxury ever again. What’s a big home and nice clothes when you’re unhappy?”
Alice sat heavily on the bed. “I…I suppose so.” She looked down at her beautiful crimson skirts. The velvet felt smooth against her skin and the embroidery was so delicate and intricate. But it was just fabric. She could make something like it in less than a week. Something Warhurst had said on their way to the Enderby house finally sank in—it’s not just the clothes. Nor had it been the jewels or the horse that set her apart from everyone else and garnered her the acknowledgements from other gentlemen.
It was her bearing.
A woman like Patience held herself erect and walked as if she had a right to be anywhere she wished to be. Without her beautiful gown and the golden pomander, she would still be a lady because she took it for granted that she was a lady, through and through.
Alice touched the emerald pendant at her throat. “I think you and Richard Farley will do very well together,” she said.
Patience gave her a small smile and let the pomander drop. It swung from the girdle until it settled against her dark blue skirt. “I’ll leave you now but I’ll return to take you down to supper. Mother is quite keen to meet you.”
Alice froze. “But what should I say?” Oh God, she couldn’t do this. Surely Lord and Lady Enderby would see straight through her awful acting.
“Don’t fear. I’ve told them I met you when I visited an old friend last summer. You’re from Essex and are traveling to your aunt in Surrey with a stopover in London tonight. Your mother is quite dead and your father is at his wits’ end with a girl on his hands. He’s sent you away for a while in the hopes you’ll be less of a burden. I’ll guide you where I can but other-wise,” she waved her hand, “just make it up.”
Alice felt sick. “I’ll do my best.”
Patience squeezed her arm. “You can always plead tiredness if it becomes too much for you.”
She left and Alice tried to rest but without luck. After a while she got up and looked out her window toward the stables but she couldn’t see Warhurst. What was he doing now? Would he be with the horses or would he have found something else to do? As long as he was staying out of trouble she didn’t really care. Hopefully Lord Enderby had little interest in horses and never went anywhere near his stables.
Daylight faded into darkness while she waited, and finally Patience came to take her down to supper. They sat at a long table in a small, informal dining room rather than the large great hall, which they must use only for grander affairs. Lord and Lady Enderby entered a few minutes later. The countess bestowed a cool smile on Alice but his lordship mer
ely grunted a greeting and concentrated on stuffing a slice of mutton into his mouth as quickly as possible.
Lady Enderby asked polite questions about Alice’s journey and her home and Alice gave short answers. Although she sounded as much like a lady as the women she sat with, she didn’t trust herself when it came to making up believable responses. How did she know what a lady’s house in Essex looked like or what she would do all day? Indeed, if she had servants to cook and clean for her, there didn’t seem a great deal else to occupy her time.
“Tell me, will you be going to the theatre while you’re here in London?” Lady Enderby asked. “We’re quite famous for our theatres, you know. Patience’s betrothed, Lord Hawkesbury, is patron to our most famous company, isn’t he, my lord?”
Lord Enderby looked up, a piece of olive pie halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“Lord Hawkesbury’s Players are one of the city’s finest acting troupes, don’t you think?”
He grunted. “I hate the theatre.” He shoved in the pie and washed it down with the entire cup of wine.
“They certainly have the finest costumes,” Patience said with a knowing smile at Alice.
Alice smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her skirt. “Unfortunately I won’t have time to go to the theatre. I must leave tomorrow. Early.” The earlier the better. She bit into her bread. She wasn’t really hungry but if she kept eating then she wouldn’t have to speak.
“What do you do to keep busy?” she asked Patience after supper when they were sitting in the small withdrawing room between their bedchambers.
Patience lifted one shoulder in a delicate gesture. “Embroidery. I like to read but Father’s library isn’t extensive. Mother and I go to the theatre on occasion or visit friends.”
“What do you do when you visit?”
“Talk. Sometimes we take our sewing or embroidery and work while we talk.” Alice frowned. Patience laughed. “I’m sure it must sound dull to you but it’s not all bad. When we’re in the country there’s riding and hunting. I like to visit our farmers and learn from them but Father discourages it. He thinks it’s unladylike.”
