A Sister's Secret (22 page)

‘H’m,’ murmured the captain to himself, ‘so this is what sweet Betsy said was unusual. Erzburger has a small, wiry friend latterly residing in Islington and now domiciled in Aldgate South. H’m.’

‘Your Grace,’ said Captain Burnside a little later that evening, ‘I’ll speak to Jonathan. I fancy he’s our man.’

‘That irreverent rascal?’ said the gentleman of impressive dignity.

‘Oh, he’s Christian enough at heart, and ain’t ever likely to consort with the devil. Put him unshaven into coarse
cloth, and I’ll wager he’ll worm himself inside the house and become the new lodger’s best friend inside an hour.’

‘Proceed, then, for I’ve a feeling the plot’s thickening. But who precisely it’s aimed at, God knows. The King, the Prime Minister, the Prince of Wales, which of them, if any of them? You’ve a feeling about Erzburger’s man. Damned if I can deduce a connection myself. But very well, put Jonathan Carter on to him. You’re still in touch with Cumberland?’

‘As much as I can be with the assistance of Lady Caroline and her sister, sir.’

‘She’s easier in her mind?’

‘Concerning her foolish friend, Your Grace? Yes, I fancy so. Concerning her sister? She has high hopes I’ll wean Annabelle off Cumberland, though she’s in a fret at the distasteful thought of Annabelle in my arms.’

‘So will I be if you play the blackguard, sir,’ said the gentleman, frowning at the captain.

‘Oh, Annabelle will be saved by her own instincts. Cumberland fascinates her, but I’ll wager in the end she’ll sense he’ll do her no good, and will back off, for it’s my belief she don’t hold her virginity as lightly as that. Otherwise, she’d have lost it to Cumberland long since. It’s a fact she ain’t going to fall in love with me. There’s affection there – faith, she’s an affectionate girl – but it’s no more than the affection of a sister for a supportive brother. I hope to God, Your Grace, that Lady Caroline never discovers my true part.’

‘She’ll have your head, sir, I don’t doubt.’

‘She will. She’ll see me into my coffin.’

The distinguished-looking gentleman permitted himself a smile. ‘She has American blood, Burnside, blood rich and vigorous.’

‘And ain’t to be trifled with on any account,’ said the
captain. ‘Cumberland comes tomorrow for the return game. If there’s something afoot and he’s discovered it concerns him, because of his connection with the Orange Order, he’ll be edgy for all his royal complacency.’

‘And if he has discovered it so, why hasn’t he set up a hue and cry about it?’

‘That, Your Grace, is a very interesting question. I’ll drop in on Jonathan now.’

He did so, and he also slipped a note for Betsy under the side door of Cumberland’s residence. It was past nine thirty when he finally arrived back at Caroline’s house, where coachman Sammy took charge of the carriage and the tired horses.

The captain sought out his hostess. She was in the drawing room, reading. Annabelle was at an evening reception for young ladies, the reception arranged by Lady Hester Russell. Sammy was due to collect her at ten fifteen.

Caroline, who had spent the evening alone, acknowledged the belated return of her hireling with a few biting words. ‘Your absence, sir, I found agreeable. You could have spared me your reappearance.’

Captain Burnside crossed the room in such penitent haste that his coat tails fluttered. Reaching the chaise longue, on which she reclined in shapely grace, he detached her right hand from her book and clasped it fervently between his own.

‘Marm – Lady Caroline – I beg your sweet forgiveness,’ he said in earnest contrition. ‘Not for the world would I consciously offend so estimable a patron as you.’ His grey eyes held her green, and her green swam with the warning light of a woman who found him suspect. ‘Your generosity and hospitality have passed all expectations, your trust in me has warmed my heart …’

‘My trust in you, sir, scarcely exists,’ she said, ‘and the
hand you are holding is my own property, not yours.’

Captain Burnside clasped it even more fervently. ‘Undoubtedly, marm, I have offended you, despite my devotion to you, and I count myself an ungracious and ungrateful gentleman to have done so. I—’

‘I have never made the mistake, sir, of looking upon you as a gentleman.’

‘True, dear lady, true; you have always been commendably frank, but I have endeavoured to be as much of a gentleman as possible to you.’

‘You have not, sir, and please release my hand.’

He released it. Freed from his warm, firm clasp, it felt strangely deserted. It hung for a moment, then dropped to her lap. His eyes, darkly grey in their penitence, still held hers, and she suffered a moment of perplexing weakness.

‘The fact is, marm—’

‘The fact is, Captain Burnside, that you sneaked your devious self away without a word to me. You did not advise me you would be absent for supper and for the rest of the evening, but of course such discourtesy is to be expected of you.’

Captain Burnside ran a hand over his hair in a rueful gesture. Caroline, her shimmering evening gown revealing the sumptuous lines of her body, gazed up at him in a self-questioning way, as if her feelings were not as they should be.

‘Well, marm, it’s a singular consequence of my professional talents that when I’m using ’em on behalf of one patron, they come to the notice of another, and I ain’t in a position to ignore an approach. You have my word I had no idea that my contact with a possible new patron this afternoon would mean such a prolonged absence from your sweet and gracious company—’

‘Familiar taradiddle, sir,’ said Caroline, but there was laughter being born at his facile speciousness and his absurd notion that she could take him seriously.

‘I assure you, marm, that as time went on I thought only of the vexation my absence must be causing you. Yet you’ll understand in your Christian tolerance that continuity of commissions is important to me. There are my tailor’s bills, d’you see, and the price of bread and meat and other sustenance. I pride myself on owning an extensive and variable wardrobe, dear lady, and can fit myself out as an unquestionable gentleman for patrons whose requirements match yours, or as a thieving gypsy for others. I’m to take on the guise of a Bow Street Runner for my next patron. Marm?’ He came to a halt, for Caroline’s laughter arrived in a rush. It sang and echoed. ‘Marm, my struggle to maintain a civilized existence ain’t as amusing as that, is it?’

‘I am hysterical,’ gasped Caroline. ‘Oh, Captain Burnside, what am I to do with such an impossible man as you? I vow it would be all of common sense to throw you out, but there it is, in my devotion to Christian charity I am beset by a wish to see you reformed and respectable.’

‘Respectable?’ said Captain Burnside. ‘Oh, egad, that ain’t charitable of you, marm, that’s unkind.’

‘I declare it the best thing that could happen to you. Then, perhaps, you could show an honest face to the world instead of a shifty one, and even find a young lady willing to be a sweet wife to you.’

‘Marriage, marm,
marriage
?’ he said in alarm.

‘Do you know any young lady you might like to embrace as a wife?’ asked Caroline, eyes dropping to her book.

‘Good God,’ said the captain.

‘You may sit down, Captain Burnside, while we discuss your possible reformation and the advantages of seeing
you married,’ she said, and there was the light of life and the animation of new dialogue gleaming in her hidden eyes.

‘You ain’t serious, marm?’ he said, seating himself.

‘It is absurd, sir, your wasteful addiction to dubious adventurism, to the unkind fleecing of trusting young ladies and to consorting with trollops when you have the gifts to become a useful, hard-working husband and a respectable citizen of this beautiful country. Have you no idea, sir, of just how beautiful your country is, and how very satisfying it would be to become worthy of it?’

‘Faith, marm, I’m speechless.’

She lifted her eyes. They were bright with laughter. ‘You are not speechless, Captain Burnside, you are wriggling. I vow it clearly visible. I have offered to lend you money so that you might go into a business of your own choosing. Since you’ve shown little enthusiasm for that, I shall offer you honest work on my Sussex estate, on your promise, of course, that you will sincerely embrace both the honesty and the work.’

‘God help me, marm, would you ask me to plough your fields?’

‘That, sir, would be very honest and healthy work. But no, I should ask you to be assistant to my steward, to look after the books.’

‘Books, marm? Clerking books?’ Captain Burnside looked aghast.

‘And to collect rents from my tenants,’ said Caroline, utterly enraptured by the state she was putting him in. Never had she seen him show such consternation.

‘I thought, marm, our relationship was to be friendly,’ he said, ‘but damned if you ain’t plotting my downfall.’

‘Sir?’

‘Beg your forgiveness for my language, marm, but
you’ve struck cruel blows,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I dare swear that if I drop my guard again, you’ll turn me into a country bumpkin.’

‘Bumpkin?’ said Caroline, and her drawn-out American vowels became energized, so that they took on a hint of English crispness. ‘Bumpkin? Yes, I’ve heard that is what you English call folk who live and work on the land. Well, sir, let me tell you such people are the backbone of our United States and the salt of the English earth. If, by a miracle of reformation, you became part of that salt, then you would be among England’s worthiest citizens and deserving of a rosy-cheeked Sussex wife. There are no country girls more rosy-cheeked than those of Sussex. They are homespun jewels in their many virtues, Captain Burnside; they shine with true, healthy brightness, and own far more lovable qualities than your town trollops.’

Captain Burnside looked as if he had been dealt a mortal blow. ‘God’s life,’ he said faintly, ‘you’d turn me into a country rent collector, marm? A bumpkin? With a rosy-cheeked pudding of a wife?’

‘And rosy-cheeked children, who would make you a happy father and give you a sense of caring responsibility,’ said Caroline, vastly entertained by the fascinating dialogue.

‘Heaven forgive you, marm, for your unsparing tongue,’ said the captain, visibly alarmed. ‘If you’ll give me leave to retire, I’ll totter up to my room and my bed, though I doubt I’ll catch a wink of sleep.’

‘Why, Captain Burnside, how ridiculous you are,’ said Caroline, containing her laughter only with an effort. ‘Not a wink of sleep indeed, when you are being offered a chance to become an honest man, a contented husband and a happy father. I declare, sir, I surely do, your alarm is an absurdity.’

‘I ain’t precisely my best self at the moment, I agree,’ said the captain, ‘but there it is, d’you see, never did I think a woman of such warm beauty could be so merciless.’

‘Merciless? Why, sir, am I not doing all I can to save you from Tyburn Tree? Even though you have deceived me outrageously? No, I shall not give you leave to retire, but insist you wait for Annabelle to return. She will be disappointed if you aren’t here to greet her.’ Caroline cast him an enquiring look.

‘Well, though I’m playing my part with Annabelle,’ he said, ‘I can’t deny she’s sweet enough to make it enjoyable. Ah, if only she were an heiress, I’d make no pretence of my affections and set about winning her.’

Caroline felt shock. ‘You have come to care for her?’ she said.

‘I feel an affection that prompts me to—’

‘Do you, sir? Do you indeed? My sister is not for your devious arms. Don’t you dare attempt in any way to lay your hands on her, do you hear?’

‘But when I’m reformed, marm, you’ll not mind then, if the notion took me?’

Caroline rushed to her feet and pointed to the door. ‘You may retire, after all, Captain Burnside. Yes, you may totter up to your room and your bed.’

‘If I’ve—’

‘Go, please.’

‘Very well. Goodnight, marm.’ He walked to the door, strangely quiet in his manner, and she experienced an impulse to call him back. But her pride would not let her. The door closed behind him, and the elegant drawing room suddenly seemed an empty and cheerless place.

What was happening to her that she intensely disliked the possibility he had come to care for her sister?

Betsy, sprightly, bobbed in her dancing, hurrying walk. It was her free hour, the only time she was free in each long day. She was always up before six and not off duty until she retired to bed, which was never before ten each night. But she had one Sunday off a month, and the precious hour each day.

Outside Collins Coffee House, her generous and personable gentleman was waiting for her, looking a regular bang-up nob in his fine clothes.

‘Ah, there you are, pretty puss,’ he said.

‘Oh, I be in pleasure to see you, sir,’ she said. ‘I got your note last night. But I be shaking as well as pleased, in case I’m to do what makes me quake terrible.’

‘I ain’t inclined to make you do that, Betsy. Come along now.’

A minute later they were comfortably ensconced in the cosiness of a private room. There was coffee for Betsy, and confectionery, and she began to consume the latter blissfully.

‘Make me do what, sir? You didn’t say.’

‘Whatever it is that makes you quake terribly.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind kissing, sir. Kissing be fair after all
them golden guineas. And fondling, though I be given to embarrassing blushing, sir.’

‘Come, come, business first, Betsy, embarrassment later.’

‘Oh, lord,’ said Betsy. ‘What business, sir?’

‘Be in cheerful heart, Betsy. The Lord Chancellor has faith in you, and so have I. We require only a small service of you. Which is to have you let me into the house on the day of the twenty-ninth of July.’

‘During the day, sir?’ Betsy gulped and swallowed half-chewed confectionery. ‘Oh, I can’t, sir, I daresn’t, not during the day.’

‘Alas, you must, rosy cheeks. The Lord Chancellor insists. Faith, it’ll be tricky for both of us, I’ll not deny, but we don’t want to end up losing our heads and having ’em spiked on the city gates.’

Betsy gulped again. Hot coffee swam untidily into her throat and she gasped, gurgled and choked. In kindly fashion, Captain Burnside patted her back.