Fenella Miller (19 page)

Lady Ashton was not at all put off. ‘I have a box at the opera, Miss Devenish, you must join my party. I shall send you a card with the details.’

‘That is kind of you, Lady Ashton.’ She turned to Mrs Sampson. ‘Will that be acceptable, Mrs Sampson?’

Her hostess beamed, obviously pleased her young guest had showed such good manners. ‘Of course, my dear. Mr Sampson and I do not enjoy the opera but we do like to see a comedy, or a play by Mr Shakespeare, and will certainly take you to one of those whilst you are with us.’

The talk drifted back and forth, Marianne drinking it in. She learnt a great deal about society in the half an hour before the two ladies rose and took their leave.

Mrs Sampson turned to her. ‘I do not expect any other callers today so you are free until it is time to dress for dinner. I spend this time with my children but you are very welcome to join me.’

‘Thank you, that is kind. But what I would really like to do is take a promenade around the neighbourhood, if that is allowed. I am afraid I do not know the correct etiquette, I have had a sheltered upbringing.’

‘Mr Sampson explained your circumstances. If you take a footman as well as your maid you can walk about anywhere. New Bond Street is close by; you will find everything from furriers to haberdashers and several excellent linen drapers as well.’

Marianne thanked her hostess and ran back upstairs to find her maid. ‘We are going for a walk, Jane. What is
de rigueur
for taking a stroll in Town?’

‘You need your parasol but it is too warm for a spencer or pelisse. Do you wish to take a shawl?’

‘I think not, I find they slip dreadfully and get in the way.’

Jane tied her bonnet on—this was a delightful confection with a tiny rim and lining of apricot silk—and handed over the gloves and parasol that completed the
ensemble
.

‘Do I really need this? My complexion is past redemption for I have ridden out so much in the past.’

‘Yes, miss, it is expected.’

As they left the house, a footman in attendance, Marianne belatedly remembered to enquire after John. ‘Have you seen John? ‘

‘No, not yet. He is away with Mr Sampson today. Also Master Edward sent a message that he has gone to see a cockfight somewhere in Cheapside but will be back for dinner.’

Marianne paled. ‘He should not have gone—he is only sixteen. Edward’s parents will not want him abroad in London.’

‘Tom and Billy went with him, Miss Devenish; he will come to no harm.’

‘I am relieved to hear it. What would I do without you all to take care of things?’

* * * *

After a fine dinner of two courses and several removes Marianne followed Mrs Sampson to the drawing-room. She was well satisfied by the evening. Mr Sampson was a charming, urbane gentlemen, the youngest son of an earl, which, of course, explained why the family was so well-connected.

Edward had enjoyed his outing so much he had decided to stay an extra two days in order to attend a prize fight to be held out-of-town. As Tom and Billy would accompany him again to see to his safety to Marianne was happy to acquiesce. Her only reservation had been the fact that she now had the parcel of letters in her safekeeping until he returned.

* * * *

A brief meeting with John established he was well but he had gleaned no more information about the identity of Theo. She had an appointment with Mr Sampson before breakfast at which, no doubt, he would bring her up-to-date with all matters pertaining to her inheritance. Her urgent questions and requests could safely be left until then.

* * * *

The house was quiet when Marianne came down to her meeting the next morning. A helpful parlour maid, busy dusting, directed her to the study. Mr Sampson was waiting, official looking documents spread out on his desk.

‘Good morning, Miss Devenish, I hope you are well rested?’

‘Thank you, sir, yes. How can it be otherwise in such a comfortable apartment?’

He pulled out the chair facing his across the cluttered desk and she sat and waited expectantly. He cleared his throat.

‘I am pleased to inform you that after extensive enquiries I have been able to establish that, there being no other living heir, either male or female, you are the beneficiary of Bentley Hall and the substantial estate that goes with it.’

‘Good heavens! Are you quite sure? My connection is so remote—and through my mother—surely my grandmother should be the recipient, not I?’

‘One might think so, indeed. But Mrs Devenish is not in direct line. She is a Devenish by marriage only. You are a blood connection through your grandfather, who was the nephew of Sir James.’

‘I think I see—so I now have all of the Frasier estates and funds as well as the Devenish inheritance?’

‘Indeed you do, Miss Devenish. You will have an income in excess of £10,000 per annum.

It makes you one of the most eligible young ladies of this season. You will have every bachelor in town at your doorstep.’

She shuddered. ‘I do hope not. This information must remain confidential. I have no desire to be courted for my wealth, or for anything else for that matter. It is my wish to live quietly in the country until my majority and I can access my fortune without restriction.’

If he was surprised by this startling announcement he covered it well. ‘You have no male guardian at the moment; this makes you especially vulnerable. I would be honoured to act
in loco parentis
, if that is acceptable, Miss Devenish?’

‘That is exactly what I wish, Mr Sampson, thank you. I understand I cannot purchase or even lease a property in my own name, so could I ask you to do this for me? For personal reasons I cannot return to Great Bentley at present. I would like you to find me somewhere in Kent, or Hertfordshire, where I may live in seclusion, with Mr and Mrs Smith. Is that possible?’

‘It is unusual but perfectly possible. I would advise that Mrs Smith is promoted to your companion. She is almost fulfilling the role now, is she not? Mr Smith is already your man of affairs and he can continue as such. Mrs Sampson will find you a suitable dresser, and any other staff you might need for your establishment.’

‘That would be most helpful. There is a question I would like to ask you, before I go, Mr Sampson. It is not related my affairs, it is merely curiosity.’

‘I will answer if I can. What is it you would like to know?’

‘I have a friend who wishes to communicate with a relative who is still residing in France. Is it possible to send a letter, even though we are at war with the French?’

‘As far as I know, my dear, there is no restriction on personal correspondence. Although it might take a long time to arrive. I believe letters are sometimes diverted through Portugal; if it is it is not being sent to Paris or its
environs
I am sure it would arrive eventually.’

‘And a reply? I presume the reverse is also true?’

‘It is. I was at a
soiree
the other night and overheard a French
émigré
family discussing having received a parcel of letters recently.’

‘Thank you, sir, that answers my question perfectly. I shall instruct my friend to write the letter and send it in good faith.’ She prepared to leave. ‘You will start looking immediately for something suitable?’

‘I shall get a man on to it today. I do not I anticipate any difficulties; you must have the pick of the properties as funds are no barrier.’

Marianne left the study in growing agitation. She had, on receiving the parcel of letters from Edward, hidden it securely under her mattress. She did not know what had prompted her to ask that question, but she understood, with sickening certainty, that Edward and Charles had been duped into traitorous transactions.

For the parcel upstairs could be nothing else. Innocent mail could be sent, as Mr Sampson had said, in the usual way. Why had Charles not asked the same question before becoming involved? She hurried up to her bedchamber relieved she had given Jane the morning off in order to spend time with her husband.

She got out the hated oil-skin parcel and, taking her sewing scissors, carefully snipped the stitches that held it together. She removed the first folded sheet and smoothed it out. It was written in French but even her limited knowledge of the language allowed her to recognize the contents were most suspicious. She saw the words, “regiments” and “Wellington” and knew she was in possession of material which could send her and her adopted brothers to the gallows.

Chapter Sixteen

There was nothing she could do to avert disaster. She could not give the letters to Edward to deliver so she would have to tell him what she had discovered. How would he react to the information that he and his brother were technically traitors?

She sat, letters in her lap, too shocked and heartsick to make a decision. Then she recalled Theo telling her he was on a mission, that she would have to trust him. He had also been out with the customs the very night Edward had made his last delivery. It could not be a coincidence. Theo’s mission must be to catch the traitors; that was why he was masquerading as Sir Theodore Devenish.

Despite her awful discovery she felt the pall of misery lift from her shoulders. She understood why he had not been able to offer for her the first time—he had had to complete his task before he could reveal his true identity. She smiled as she pondered who he really was and if he would seek her out when his work was completed.

Then reality hit and her brief burst of happiness evaporated. The man she knew as Theo was searching for Edward and Charles—his job was to arrest the perpetrators and send them to the gallows, not protect them from justice. She could see no way out of this, no happy ending. If he did his duty and condemned Charles and Edward to death she would never forgive him. But if he protected them, his own life could be forfeit and that would be even worse.

She felt a familiar throbbing start over her right eye and knew she was getting a megrim. She rang the bell and when Annie came in she sent her to fetch John and Jane. She would tell the whole to them and maybe, between them, they could come up with a solution. She prayed fervently that there was a way out that didn’t put anyone’s life at risk.

* * * *

When she had finished her sorry story neither John nor Jane spoke. They were too shocked by her revelations. She handed the opened oil-skin package to John, but his knowledge of French was non-existent so he gleaned nothing from the writing.

‘If you’re quite sure these are not the innocent letters Charles and Edward thought they were delivering, then there’s only one action that can be taken.’ Marianne waited for John to tell her. ‘I will take these down to Sir Theodore, tell him everything. If he is the man you say he is, he will come up with something that satisfies his masters and keeps the Grierson boys out of trouble.’

‘Oh, John, do you think so? It is exactly what I was going to suggest but I wished to hear your views before I spoke.’

‘If I travel post, Miss Marianne, I should be in Essex by early this evening. Master Edward does not return until the day after tomorrow and with any luck all will be sorted by then.’ He stood up, tucking the letters inside his jacket. ‘This means you’ll have no one here to accompany you, or drive you out, as Billy and Tom are with Master Edward.’

‘Jane and I can manage. There are plenty of footmen here to walk with us if we go to the circulating library or for a stroll down New Bond Street.’

Reassured, he nodded. ‘Then I will make haste.’ He quickly embraced his wife and half bowed to Marianne.

She called him back. ‘I have just remembered something Edward told me. The letters cannot be delivered until the boat arrives and that will not be for another four days. How shall I keep him here, away from harm, until then?’

John frowned. ‘You will have to tell him the whole, I suppose. At least he will be up here, out of the way.’

‘Very well, I shall do that. God speed, John.’

Marianne did not relish breaking such dark tidings to one so young and volatile. She dreaded to think what Edward’s reaction might be.

There was something she had to discuss with her maid. ‘Jane, I have a proposition to put to you. Would you consider becoming my companion instead of my dresser? Mr Sampson pointed out that when we go to the country I shall need a female companion and it was his suggestion I asked you. After all, John is already my man of business.’

‘Well I never! I shall be delighted, Miss Marianne, indeed I shall. You have both Annie and Molly to do the chores. I would still like to help you dress, if that’s acceptable for a companion.’

‘I have no idea what is acceptable or otherwise, we may decide for ourselves what suits. You have always been a friend, more a mother than ever my own was. You and John can dine with me, once we are established in our own house. It will be so much better.’ She stood up and another pleasant thought occurred to her. ‘If you are to become my companion then you will need a whole new wardrobe. Your plain grey and blue dresses will not do.’

‘New clothes? Whatever next?’ Jane smiled. ‘At least shopping will take our minds of other things.’

They spent the day in and out of haberdashers, milliners, cobblers and drapers until Jane had all she needed. The materials were left with a mantua-maker recommended by Mrs Sampson and then they were free to return. The two footmen, and Annie, staggered along behind, burdened with a variety of parcels.

Mrs Sampson greeted them on their way upstairs. ‘Oh there you are, my dear, a card has come inviting you to attend the opera tomorrow night. Do you have a suitable gown? It will be a grand affair, you know.’

‘I do, Mrs Sampson, thank you. In fact, I have three evening gowns and a ball gown.’

‘Excellent. I thought you might, I have noticed how well turned out you are. I did not know it was possible to be so
a la mode
if you resided in the country.’ Mrs Sampson made the country sound as remote as the furthest steppes of Russia.

* * * *

As she settled down in her fine chambers for her second night in London Marianne was not sure how she felt about anything. The man she loved had had a good reason for not offering for her, but it did not explain why he had behaved so ungallantly in the first place.