The Captain's Daughter (27 page)

When they
entered the grand house where the ball was being held, Amy was overwhelmed. It
was a glittering affair. It seemed as if a thousand candles were burning, and
every one of them appeared to be sparkling in Mattie’s eyes.

“I wish Emma
could see this.” Amy spoke to no one in particular.

“Look who is
here,” said her mother.

Amy turned to
see, and came face to face with the Ramseys.

“We decided we
couldn’t miss out on this for the world,” said Sir Frank.

“But...”Amy
paused.

“You want to
know where we are staying. Well, our own house is filled with visitors from out
of town and one rascally nephew.”

“Uncle,” moaned
Leo.

“I’m just
jesting, Leo,” said Sir Frank. “We decided to get together with some good
friends from the Royal Society. We’re trying to find out a better way to
predict the weather, but all we’ve done so far is go through some excellent
sherry. He does have a wonderful wine cellar. But forgive me for rattling on
with inanities, how is my little scientist doing? Are the doctor’s treatments
and regimens helping her yet?”

“It’s been only
four days, but Emma says she is feeling improved. The doctor gives her some
medicines but a good deal of the treatment seems to involve salted pudding.
Mother and I are puzzled by that, although I tried some of the pudding and it
tastes good, except it
is
a little salty.”

Sir Frank
smiled and patted her on the shoulder.

“Well, forgive
us, Esty and I have to be moving along. We have a few acquaintances to renew. ”

He paused as
they started to go and looked at Amy’s locket.

“That’s a
beautiful locket Amy. Is it new?”

“No. It’s at
least twenty years old. I inherited it from a relative.”

When the
Ramseys left to mingle with their friends, Amy found herself alone, so she sat
on one of the prim chairs next to the wall.

She was only
there a few minutes when a familiar voice asked: “I’m sorry I don’t have a
dance card, but may I have this dance?”

She looked up.
It was Lord Eskman being especially charming. No one else was dancing with her
so she decided it could do no harm to dance with him. In fact, if he was
dancing with her he was not pursuing Mattie. Probably he had to give up since
Mattie had been glued to Leo all evening. At least Leo was an improvement over
most of Mattie’s other infatuations.

As they danced,
she noticed that Lord Eskman keept glancing down at her bosom, which she found
quite irritating. Even if he was an old lecher, which she suspected might well
be true, she would have expected him to be a little more discreet.

“That is a most
impressive locket you are wearing,” Lord Eskman complimented Amy. “Is there a
reason for the Scotch thistle?”

Amy was a bit
disconcerted to find he was looking at the locket and not her girlish
endowments. It took her a few moments while she struggled to respond.

“Truthfully,
Lord Eskman, I don’t know. I inherited it from a relative I’ve never met.”
At
least since I was a Baby
, she said to herself, hoping what she was saying
didn’t constitute a lie
or a real lie
she told herself.

As they danced,
she noticed Sir Frank looking at them and frowning. She made a mental note to
talk to him later if opportunity afforded it. And as chance would have it, the
music stopped and the musicians mostly left after announcing they would resume
in ten minutes. When she looked around, Lord Eskman was nowhere to be seen, but
Sir Frank was busily engaged in conversation with several other men of his age.

She went and
stood near them. When Sir Frank saw her, he excused himself from his companions
and came over to her.

“I’m glad you
came over,” he said, “you asked me about Eskman, well I have made some
inquiries, and I am told he is often seen with rich young heiresses. He is
evidently fishing, so I’d watch him.”

“If he is
looking for rich young heiresses,” said Amy with a sardonic laugh, “I think I
am perfectly safe.”

“It is always
wise,” said Sir Frank as he turned back to his friends, “to be cautious with
that sort of person.”

When the
musicians had returned and were getting ready to begin playing again, she
noticed that Lord Eskman was again present in the ballroom. A fiendish plot
began to grow in the mischievous region of Amy’s brain. She purposely placed
herself in the vicinity of Lord Eskman. So close in fact that he would have to
walk around her if he wanted to go anywhere.

“It seems that
fate has brought us together again,” said Amy when he noticed her hovering near
him.

“Yes indeed,
Lady Amy,” he agreed.

“I think,” said
Amy, “that I needs must go and sit down again since I am not taken for this
dance.”

Having
practically twisted his arm, he asked her to dance, to which she, with a
feigned reluctance, and a comment about being tired, eventually agreed.

As the music
commenced and they began to glide around the hall, actually Eskman’s dancing
was a tad short of gliding, Amy began to put her scheme into action. If Eskman
was looking for a rich, young, heiress she would fill the bill and find out if
it were true. He had seemed to lose interest in Mattie. Was it because he found
out that the family didn’t have the money he had thought they did? Amy would
make herself rich, and see.

“You were
asking about my locket and why the thistle. I understand it belonged to my real
mother.”

“Your real
mother? I thought you were the daughter of Sir Anthony and Lady Sibbridge.”

Ah
thought Amy
he knows my parents’ names
.

“Most people
think that, Lord Eskman, but the truth is I am adopted.”

“Adopted,
really?”

“Yes, and I
shouldn’t be telling you this. Do you promise to not tell another living soul
what I am about to reveal?”

“You have my
word of honor.”

What honor
,
Amy said to herself, and then continued.

“You see, my
mother was secretly married to Prince Charles Edward, Bonnie Prince Charlie,
and I am the heir. He was excluded from the throne as were all the other heirs,
because parliament has prohibited Catholics from inheriting the throne.”

“Yes that is
true,” said Lord Eskman.

“But, you see,
Lord Eskman, I am Church of England. I
can
inherit the throne. A select
few people know this and so I am in great danger. Our beloved King George would
never do me any harm, but he has supporters who are plotting against me.”

“That is
dreadful,” said Lord Eskman.

“Oh, I don’t
mean they want to do me bodily harm. What they want to do is prevent me from
marrying.”

“Why would that
be?”

“Because of an
odd legal stipulation that few know of.”

“Legal
stipulation?”

She wished he
wouldn’t keep repeating everything she said.

“I cannot
inherit the throne until I marry. And that is fine with me. I wouldn’t want to
supplant King George. He is so used to being king, that it would be cruel to
make him give up the throne.”

Lord Eskman was
looking at her with a strange expression. She suspected she had taken things a
little too far, and there were a few inconsistencies in what she had said, but
that was fine with her. It had been fun.

On the journey
back to the townhouse, as Mattie bubbled and her mother fretted about
unimportant things, Amy felt a cozy satisfaction about teasing Lord
Eskman—until she thought about Ben.

Chapter 31

Although Emma’s doctor
had relatively modest offices, there was a fine study with a roaring fire to
ward off the Monday morning chill. Today was overcast with a cold biting rain.
Summer in England can be tricky.

Amy sat in a
wooden-backed chair, while her mother and father occupied the fine stuffed
armchairs on either side of the ornate fireplace. Mattie was also present,
somewhat reluctantly, although genially, and of course Emma who was the subject
of their little gathering.

This was Emma’s
last day to see the doctor, and he paced back and forth rather briskly as he
spoke.

“I know the
lass appears to have improved during the past week, and I am sure she has, that
is what I have worked to achieve, but she is far from being back to normal. I
am sure she is very much on the mend, and will be herself again, but it might
take a few weeks. Continue with the puddings. I have written out the recipe.
Give it to your cook. I have prepared some medicine, but what will be best for
the lass is sunshine, whenever you can find any in our soggy northern climate,
and good invigorating fresh air. Salt pudding and fresh air does a body much
good.”

He stopped
beside Emma, and looked down at her with a big grin. He chucked her under the
chin, and she smiled back at him.

“Hurry and get
well, Lass, and remember to eat a bowl of pudding each day. If you start to get
your fill of it, ask your mother to add any fruit that’s available. We’re
coming into winter soon, but oranges from Spain, or imported raisins or
sweetmeats make it a bit more lively and tasty. Will you do that for me, Lass?”

He tousled her
hair and turned to her mother and father.

“Well, I am
finished with the lass, she’s ready to be launched.”

Amy’s father
sat his usual stiff, stoic, solid self, but her mother looked concerned. Now
came the difficult question because of the family’s troubled finances.

“How much do we
owe you for Emma’s treatment, doctor?”

“Not a penny,
Lady Sibbridge. Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey have already paid me for Emma.”

Amy knew this
made her mother uncomfortable, because it pained Mildred Sibbridge to be the
recipient of what she considered to be charity even if it was from a close and
dear friend. For so many years the family had been well cared for by their own
resources, but everything had gone awry since Anthony Sibbridge was thrown from
his horse. But Amy was glad for Sir Frank’s kindness because it relieved her
mother of a great burden.

“Thank you,
doctor, for helping Emma so much.”

“Don’t think
anything of it, Lady Sibbridge, there is much truth in the claim that we
doctor’s just sit and watch while God and the patient do the rest. You don’t
live in London, do you?”

“We’re from
Stokely-on-Arne. The Ramseys have kindly accommodated us while Emma was being treated,
but we go back home on Thursday.”

That night, Amy
lay in bed. Her worries and wonders about Ben were getting increasingly worse.
She had a dread fear that something had happened to him. Was he sick or
injured? Dead? She could not bear that thought. Or, maybe, she feared, he no
longer had affection for her. Has he even been receiving her letters? She
decided to write another letter, perhaps this would be her last.

After breakfast
on Tuesday morning, she asked Leo if she might use the study to write a letter.
It was a difficult letter to write, because she wanted to express her emotions
without being maudlin. It took her a lot longer than she intended and it was
close to noon when she was finished. After she had sealed her letter she sought
out Leo. She found him sitting down to lunch with her family. So Amy sat down
with the others at the lunch table. She took a few nibbles, then looked at Leo.

“Leo, I would
be most deeply appreciative if you would do me a very great kindness,” said Amy
speaking very hurriedly. “I have a letter for a friend that I must get to him,
and I want to take it to his club as soon as I can get it there.”

“You sound as
if it is a matter of life or death,” said Leo.

He examined her
closely.

“Do you realize
you’re trembling?” he asked.

“No I’m not—yes
I am, but it’s just because I’m a little cold.”

“It’s not warm
enough in the house?”

“Yes it is fine
and warm, it’s just me that is cold.”

“I’m not quite
sure what you meant, but since it is so important, I’ll take you right away—at
least as soon as we can get the coach ready.”

“No. Finish
your lunch,” said Amy feeling a little guilty.

“What, and
leave a fair maiden in distress. That is not what we Ramseys do,” he joked.

Once the horses
were hitched and they were all ready to go, he turned to her and asked: “Where
shall I tell the coachman we need to head out to?”

“The Eccentric
Club.”

He was about to
bark the order to the coachmen, but stopped abruptly and stared at Amy.

“The Eccentric
Club. You have heard of the Eccentric Club?” She asked, wondering if it was
some club no one had ever heard of.

“Everyone has
heard of the Eccentric Club, dear cousin,” said Leo, who was of course, not
Amy’s cousin. “Why the Eccentric Club?”

“Because that
is where he resides, when he is in London.”

“A great many
famous people, noblemen, scholars, scientists, and merchants go to the
Eccentric Club, but no one resides there. The Eccentric Club gathers at a
tavern in the May Building on St. Martin’s Lane. They sometimes engage in
activities that have the authorities looking the other way rather than act
against some of the most famous men in England, but the one thing they do not
do is reside there.”

“But that is
where he receives his mail,” said Amy feeling somewhat flustered.

“That may well
be. He likely has made arrangements for that, but he must be residing somewhere
else.” Leo leaned out of the window of the coach and called to the coachman:
“Take us to the Eccentric Club.”

Even the
coachman knows where it is
, Amy thought to herself. She clutched her letter
tightly as they rolled towards the main road. She looked out of the window of
the coach while deep in thought. The road was deserted except for three
workmen, who seemed to be working on the cobblestones. One of the workmen had
his cap pulled down over his face and his collar turned up high as if to
protect himself from inclement weather. It struck Amy as amusing, but passed
from her thoughts as they turned into the main road which was choked with carts
and conveyances of all sorts.

Just before two
o’clock they pulled up next to May’s Building where the Eccentric Club met. As
Amy reached for the handle of the coach, Leo asked her: “What are you doing?”

“I have to take
my letter into the club.”

“You cannot do
that. This is a men’s club, they wouldn’t appreciate a lady bursting in, even
though they are not in session. I’ll take it in for you.”

She reluctantly
let Leo take the letter, and he jumped out of the coach, and headed to the
front door of May’s Building. Amy watched him and bemoaned how unfair life was.
She decided that some day when she was rich, and she had no doubts that was
somehow going to happen, she would start a club for ladies, no, for women, and
not let men in.

That was when
she noticed that Leo was returning to the coach. Why didn’t he go inside? She
climbed out of the coach and was immediately impressed by the large church just
a few hundred feet in front of the coach.

“That’s St.
Martin-in-the-Fields,” said Leo as he noticed her looking at the building.

“Why didn’t you
take my letter inside?” she asked returning to the subject at hand.

“I’m not a
member. They wouldn’t let me in,” said Leo sheepishly. “They said they’ll get
the letter to Ben.”

Amy wondered if
Ben was even getting the letters. Or are they just piling up at the club? Amy had
to know.

“We have to
speak to that man you gave the letter to,” she said, and proceeded to march
back to the front door of the building with Leo hurrying after. He was
intensely thankful when the doorman or whatever the man was, evidently saw this
charging woman, and came out front to find the cause.

“This
gentleman,” she said to the puzzled servant, indicating Leo,” just left a
communication for Sir Benjamin Anstruther.”

“Yes milady,”
said the servant.

“I have sent a
number of communications to Sir Benjamin of late. How do I know he is receiving
them?”

As they were
talking, a small man dressed in the garb of a clerk came out the front door of
the club and brushed by them.

“As a matter of
fact, that clerk that just came out of the building comes each day about this
time and takes any letters or other items left for Sir Benjamin.”

“Where does he
take the letters?” asked Amy.

“I’m afraid we
have no knowledge of that. All we know is that Sir Benjamin authorized that man
to pick up his letters and packages.”

That evening,
Amy fretted away the hours going back to the old questions.
If Ben is
getting her letters why does he not respond?
She gradually developed a
plan. When no members of the household were around, she cornered one of the
maids and asked to speak with her.

 That
night after dinner she asked to use the study again, and wrote another letter.
After that she felt better.

At breakfast
Wednesday morning she asked Leo to take her to the Eccentric Club just before
two that afternoon.

“What are you
going to do, attack them?” joked Leo. “You’re going to read about yourself in
the newspapers soon.
The Mad Lady of St. Martin’s Lane Attacks Again
.”

“I hope not,”
laughed Amy. “I’ll try to be good.”

Just after one
that afternoon as they were about to go out to the coach, and Leo was
complaining about not being able to finish lunch again, Amy told him: “Please
wait here. I will be back in about five minutes.”

She left poor
Leo staring after her as she went upstairs to the room she was using. In less
than five minutes she was back. A confused and puzzled Leo stared as Lady
Amaryllis descended the staircase dressed as a common maid. Over the maids
outfit she was wearing a woolen coat that had seen better times. He just held
his hands out with the palms up in a gesture that asks the question, why?

She motioned to
him to be quiet, as she glided past the drawing room where her mother, Mattie,
and Emma were, hoping not to be seen. There were just too many questions to
answer should her mother catch sight of her daughter in her humbled condition.

Safely
ensconced in the coach heading for their destination, she explained to Leo that
she borrowed the maid’s street clothes, because, she said, I might need them.
She couldn’t help herself saying it in as mysterious a way as she could.

When they
reached their destination on St. Martin’s Lane, she asked Leo to deliver her
letter, which he did. Then he returned to the coach.

“What now?”
asked a baffled Leo.

“Just wait,”
said Amy in a sort of whisper, although there was no reason to do that.

As she spoke,
she saw the little clerk come out of the Eccentric Club. She drew Leo’s
attention to him as he hurried off down the street.

“Follow him,
but don’t let him see that we are following him,” ordered Amy.

In the crowded
and bustling streets of London, that was easy. But it was not long before the
little man turned into a narrow street with no visible traffic.

“Uh oh,” said
Amy as she jumped out of the coach and took off after him, before Leo could
prevent her. “Wait here and do not follow me,” she yelled back to the startled
Leo.

She followed
the little man down the curving narrow street. On one occasion he glanced back,
which made her uncomfortable. She hoped he didn’t think she was following him,
then she chastised herself.
It’s just my guilty conscience, he’ll think
nothing of a serving girl walking down a street
, she told herself. Then
another thought. Even though she was wearing a serving girl’s clothes, were
they still too good for this neighborhood?

Suddenly he
turned into a narrow lane. If he saw her follow him in, wouldn’t he know she
was following him? She decided to walk past the lane, glancing to see if he was
looking. When she did, she saw out of the corner of her eye that he was indeed
standing watching.
What should she do?
she asked herself as she walked
around the curve in the street. At that moment she saw through a gap in the
buildings to her right, the little man walking down a lane with his back to
her. She quickly followed him into the twisting maze.

With some
difficulty she was able to follow him through the warren without being seen,
until he finally entered what appeared to be a very dilapidated courtyard. He
climbed up some rickety wooden steps to a landing and knocked on a door. She
was able to conceal herself as she watched. After a few moments the door
opened, and a shadowy figure in the doorway took the letter and the little man
immediately left. He passed within a few feet of her but did not see her. She
was sure that the shadowy figure in the doorway was Ben, just by his demeanor.

As soon as the
little clerk was safely out of sight, she hurried up the steps and knocked
loudly on the door. She was annoyed. She was conscious of someone looking out
of a small window, and then the door opened. Ben, standing clutching his
dressing gown tightly, was about to ask what she wanted, when he recognized
her, and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Lady Amaryllis Sebbridge was
standing at his door in the worn garb of a poor serving girl.