Picture Perfect (13 page)

‘May I bring your tea, sir, or do you require something stronger?’

Jack shook his head, ‘My troubles have nothing to do with wine or spirits, tea will do nicely, and breakfast as well, I have a busy day ahead of me.’

‘It may prove to be even busier then you have planned,’ Mills said and Jack saw that in addition to the newspaper he was holding a large white envelope. ‘Lord Beresford sent a boy around with this a short while ago,’ Mills continued. ‘He is currently waiting in the kitchen for your answer.’

Much as he longed to scan the newspaper to see if the theft at Almack’s had been reported Jack supposed he should read Lord Beresford’s missive first. It was bound to be about Annabel he thought, and the insult he had offered her, she must have been very upset and told the Beresfords everything. She was so young and naive, not like Justine who would have taken the kiss in her stride, laughed and thought nothing more of it, but then he would not have been trying to impress Justine by showing her the trap he had laid for the thief and so he would never have come to kiss her in the first place.

‘Open the letter, will you,’ Jack said to Mills. He did not usually delegate such effortless tasks to his valet, but he felt strangely reluctant to touch it; while it remained sealed he could nurture the faint hope that Annabel had not complained of his behaviour to the Beresfords. She clearly hadn’t found the kiss as delightful as he had, but perhaps her reaction had been one of surprise rather than anger however reading the letter would no doubt dispel that notion.

‘Here you are, sir, or would you like me to read it?’

‘No!’ Jack felt himself colouring hotly, if Lord Beresford wanted to call him out he wanted to discover this in privacy. ‘That is, that will be all, Mills, thank you.’

‘Very good, sir,’ excellent valet that he was Mills left the room without even so much as a raised eyebrow at his employer’s uncharacteristically flustered manner and Jack unfolded the letter.

It was about Annabel, as he had feared, but Lord Beresford, it seemed, was reluctant to put his thoughts on paper, he simply asked Jack to meet him at his club to discuss her that afternoon. He would have to present himself of course, though Whites seemed a very public place in which to make retribution, but as the representative of the injured party Lord Beresford had every right to chose the field. The meeting with Lord Beresford would muck up his plans, Jack thought as he drank his tea, but it had been worth it, kissing Annabel had been lovely, warm, enticing and full of the promise of something more, if only Annabel had thought so too.

At two o’clock Jack presented himself at White’s and was duly escorted to a table where Lord Beresford sat, drinking brandy. ‘Join me, won’t you,’ he said and not waiting for Jack’s reply gestured to the serving man to bring more of the same. Jack felt somewhat reassured, if Lord Beresford were taking the insult to his daughter personally, he would not have invited Jack to drink with him, however he decided to get straight to the point.

‘About Annabel,’ he began but Lord Beresford interrupted him.

‘Dashed funny business,’ he said. ‘Been preying on my mind a bit. You see we thought she’d drowned, that wretched nurse admitted to taking the girls to play by the river and then Colonel Black said she’d been found washed up on the strand, but it’s impossible.’

‘Sorry?’ What Lord Beresford wanted to discuss was so far from Jack’s train of thought that for a moment he was quite nonplussed.

‘I mean, obviously the Thames runs from Bath to London, but a child of two couldn’t possibly have survived in the water all that way, it’s much too far. Some person must have had a hand in her disappearance.’

‘I see,’ with an effort Jack forced himself to consider Annabel the child and saw at once that Lord Beresford was right, the distance down the river from Bath to London was more than a hundred miles and even supposing a child could float in the water all that way without drowning, the trip would take days and a small child would have perished through cold and hunger before reaching London. There was really only one answer, Annabel must have been kidnapped.

‘So will you do it?’ Lord Beresford was looking at him intently and Jack realised that he expected some sort of an answer although he hadn’t actually asked a question. ‘Of course you’re probably very busy with that government department of yours, but naturally I’d make it worth your while.’

Suddenly Jack understood what Lord Beresford wanted. ‘Of course I’ll investigate your daughter’s disappearance,’ he said hastily, ‘and I wouldn’t dream of accepting anything for it. All I need from you, sir, is as much information as possible about it and permission to question any of your staff who were with you at the time.’

‘Capital!’ Lord Beresford said, leaning back in his chair. ‘It’s very good of you to take this on. Much indebted. Oh, and not a word to the womenfolk, eh? Don’t want to worry them.’

It was with mixed feelings that Annabel rode back in the carriage to Bedford Square that afternoon. She had missed her family and was longing to tell Mrs Black all about her experiences, omitting of course her slight reservations about Justine’s character and her encounter with Jack Denham at Almack’s the night before, and as these two things were all she could think about she was left wondering exactly what she would say to her mother about her sojourn with the Beresfords. In the end though, she need not have worried, her mother was more interested in the plans they would make now her daughter had returned than in cross-questioning her about the past few days.

‘I’m so glad to see you,’ Mrs Black said, embracing Annabel in the hall before leading her in to the drawing room and ringing for tea, then she smiled mischievously. ‘Your aunt’s social calendar has been thrown into complete turmoil by your absence and she has declared that she can’t possibly hold the musical evening she and Madeline have been planning without you. She has postponed it until Monday. She is also quite convinced that it would be unforgivably rude not to invite the Beresfords and has concluded that they are most likely to still be free on Monday evening.’

‘How thoughtful of Aunt Delilah,’ Annabel said, smiling at the wicked glint in her mother’s eye.

‘Very,’ Mrs Black said dryly. ‘She has put an extraordinary amount of thought into choosing the date, believe me, but as an added security she wished me to ask you if you knew of any other engagements Lady Beresford might have on the sixth and then she wishes me to write to her immediately so that she may pen the invitations at once.’

‘Lady Beresford does like to keep busy,’ Annabel said, thinking of the myriad of people she had visited with in the past few days, ‘but she hasn’t mentioned anything in particular about Monday to me. I know they plan to attend the opera on Thursday, but that is all.’

‘And did they invite you to join them?’ Mrs Black said shrewdly.

‘They did,’ Annabel admitted, ‘but you know I don’t particularly enjoy opera so I told them I would have to see if you had other plans for me. I hope that was all right.’

‘It would have been better if you had made your own excuse,’ Mrs Black said. ‘It would have been perfectly acceptable to tell them that you don’t care for opera. However as it happens I do have plans for you for Thursday evening, the ladies from the education society are meeting here and I hoped you would help me to entertain them. I know the evening won’t be nearly as exciting as the life you have been experiencing recently but the presence of a young person always seems to inspire the ladies, and education is a very worthwhile cause.’

‘
Of course I’ll help you,’ Annabel said at once, this inclusion into the reality of her mother’s world more than welcome. ‘Are there any preparations to be made ahead of time?’

‘
I hoped you might copy out the agenda for our discussion,’ Mrs Black said, smiling. ‘But I have not yet finalized it and right now I have a note to write to your aunt, she and Madeline are waiting most anxiously for it and I really mustn’t delay any longer.’

‘Shall I deliver the note myself?’ Annabel offered, rather curious about the guest list for her aunt’s musical evening. She wondered if Madeline and Aunt Delilah knew Jack Denham - it seemed quite likely since this was Madeline’s fourth London season - and did they know he was a close friend of the Beresford family and if so had they seen fit to invite him for Monday. And if not, she couldn’t help thinking, would there be a way for her to subtly suggest it? She had no idea when she would see Jack again and suddenly, no matter how awkward the situation was, taking steps to make sure she did see him soon seemed very important.

‘That would be very kind of you,’ Mrs Black said. She penned the note and a little while later Annabel arrived on her cousins’ doorstep, accompanied by her maid.

‘Hello, Aunt Delilah,’ she said as she was ushered into the drawing room, happy to find that her cousins were at home that afternoon.

‘Hello, my dear,’ Aunt Delilah said, kissing her niece.

‘What was it like? The house looks terribly opulent from the outside. What was it like inside? Did they have vast numbers of servants? What were the Beresfords like?’ Madeline’s questions seemed to tumble over her like a fountain. For a moment Annabel felt overwhelmed and then her cousin’s enthusiasm seemed merely funny and she laughed.

‘The house was beautiful, I’m not sure how many servants they have and the Beresfords are very popular. Have I answered all your questions?’

‘But what about your sister?’ Augusta asked quietly, but her eyes were huge. ‘What is it like having a twin?’

‘It was…’ Annabel found she wasn’t sure how to answer her younger cousin, then she opted to keep to the superficial facts. ‘We found we have a lot in common, neither of us likes fish, we both have the same favourite colour and we each like to dance.’

‘How amazing!’ Augusta said breathlessly and Annabel could almost see her extrapolating with her imagination from what she had just been told. ‘It must have been like finding your soul mate!’

It had been nothing like finding a soul mate Annabel thought darkly. A soul mate would be someone who wanted to listen to everything she said, someone who could respect her and laugh with her at the same time, and someone who made her feel he simply enjoyed being with her, in the way that Jack Denham always made her feel. The thought took her by complete surprise and Annabel had to suppress a gasp.

‘Are you all right, dear?’ Aunt Delilah said.

‘Yes, perfectly,’ Annabel said, hoping her churning thoughts didn’t show on her face. Jack could not be her soul mate; he belonged to Justine who presumably felt about him in exactly the same way that Annabel did herself. He could not and would never be her soul mate, she would have to content herself with one day becoming his sister-in-law and she should consider herself lucky to have even as much of a relationship with him as that. She must push all thoughts of him out of her mind, it was the only rational thing to do.

‘Are you sure?’ Aunt Delilah persisted and Annabel knew she must be looking very odd indeed for her aunt to have noticed that anything was wrong. ‘Madeline, ring for some tea, your cousin must have overexerted herself during her sojourn with the Beresfords, I haven’t seen her look quite so out of sorts since the time she fell out of that apple tree when she was a small girl.’

‘I do feel a little tired,’ Annabel said and cast around for a way to distract her aunt. He eye fell on a pile of note papers on the bureau which stood ready, open, for a hasty bout of letter writing, and suddenly she recalled the reason she had come. ‘My mother sent you this note,’ she said, pulling it from her reticule and handing it to Aunt Delilah. She was wondering how to politely express the fact that to the best of her knowledge the Beresfords were not engaged for Monday evening without insulting her aunt with the clear implication that her own plans were of secondary importance, but Aunt Delilah saved her from the dilemma by seizing the note eagerly and reading it at once.

‘What does she say?’ Madeline demanded, obviously quite aware of the subject upon which her mother was expecting a reply.

Aunt Delilah refolded the letter and smiled at the girls broadly. ‘Monday is an entirely suitable day for our little gathering,’ she announced. ‘We must write the invitations at once.’

Madeline rose and fetched the paper and pens from the bureau. ‘Here we are,’ she said, distributing them, ‘I have everything ready, you don’t mind helping, do you, Annabel? You have much the fairest hand of all of us.’

‘Not at all,’ Annabel said, smiling at Madeline’s enthusiasm, ‘to whom shall I address my first invitation?’ It was better than she could have ever hoped for, she would find out exactly whom her cousins had on their guest list and what could be more natural than to make a suggestion of her own and mention a close friend of the Beresfords, should he have been omitted?

‘Here,’ Madeline said, passing her the list. ‘Address it to Lord Kent and then put a mark next to his name, we don’t want to invite anybody twice, it would look so desperate.’

Meekly Annabel did as she was bid but she took the opportunity to run her eye down the list. As she had thought, Jack hadn’t been invited. She kept silent for a few minutes as they all wrote industriously, then there was a quick knock on the door and the maid entered with their tea.