The Reckoning (3 page)

The mere suggestion stiffened her resolve. 'I'm not a funk,'
she said. 'And I must have something to remember him by.’

Theakston stepped out and turned to hand her down. The
crowd, gathered in spite of the rain simply for the pleasure of
seeing which famous people would turn up, parted to let them
through, and a murmur of recognition rippled back through
the ranks. They mounted the steps and passed through the
open front door, to be besieged by a crowd of shabbily-
dressed 'agents', thrusting out their business-cards and
offering to save the lady and gentleman the disagreeable
labour of bidding for themselves.

‘
I'm your man, my lord!’

‘Anything at all that you fancy,
my lord – I'll get the best price.’

‘You want to be sure of
securing what you're after, my lord – don't risk losing it to
another!’

Danby thrust them all away good-naturedly, and led Lucy
through into the booklined parlour, where in the past callers
who were
not
intimates of the Beau had been kept drumming their heels until a suitable realisation of their inferiority had
overtaken them. Here there was a press of people of various
ranks, uneasily jostled together in the quest for a bargain or a
keepsake; and here, almost immediately, they were accosted
by Marcus Morland, who looked extremely relieved to see
them.

‘
Oh, thank heaven, a friendly face at last!' he cried, making
his bow to Lucy. 'How do you do, ma'am – sir?'

‘
Hullo, Marcus,' Lucy said. He was a distant relative of hers, who had become Earl of Chelmsford last year on the unexpected death of his cousin Bobbie. 'I didn't know you
were in Town. I thought you were house-hunting with your
mother.'

‘
We were – we came back yesterday.' The new earl's pale
hair was ruffled and he looked hot. 'I say, there are some very
queer people here today! I was up in the bedroom just now, and there were two of the most vulgar cits you can imagine,
not at all the thing! There they sat on the dressing table
smoking tuppenny cigars and talking about Trade, while their
wives gave the mattress and bolster a most tremendous
shampo-ing!'

‘
I'll give you
shampo,
young Chelmsford,' Theakston
smiled. 'None of your Peninsula slang here, if you please!'

‘
Ah yes,' Lucy eyed him critically, 'you've shaved off your
whiskers. I couldn't think why you looked so different.’

‘
Mama didn't think they were becoming to an Earl,'
Marcus said, embarrassed. 'I don't think she likes to be
reminded of the army – you know, Papa being killed and
everything. But I say, this is an awful business, isn't it? Mr
Brummell of all people! I hate to think of all his things going
to strangers.’

If he had hoped to ingratiate himself by sympathising he
had chosen his words unwisely. Lucy didn't like being
reminded of the horrid reality.

‘
And have you come to acquire some of his "things" – or is it mere idle curiosity that brings you here?' she asked coolly.
Marcus flushed. 'Mama asked me to come. She's after the
Beau's dinner-service – I mean, she thought it might go cheap
— that is, she said if it should be a bargain —' he stumbled.

‘
I should stop before you get yourself even more involved,'
Lucy said unkindly. She glanced around her. 'Every corpse
has its carrion-eaters, I suppose.’

With that she moved away. Danby lingered a moment to
comfort the stricken young man. 'Don't mind it. Her lady
ship's upset.'

‘
Yes, sir, of course, she's bound to be,' Marcus said grate
fully. He eyed the older man hungrily. 'Have you heard from
Lady Rosamund lately?'

‘
Not since last week.'

‘
I suppose she'll be coming home from Morland Place
soon?’

Theakston shook his head. 'There's no date set for it.
Sophie hasn't been quite well, and I suppose Rosamund will
stay until she sees her improve. I think there's some talk of a
visit to the seaside.’

Marcus liked Sophie Morland very much, and was sorry to
hear that she was unwell, but he had hardly seen Rosamund
since Christmas. 'Surely she doesn't mean to miss the whole
Season?' he asked wistfully.

‘I don't think she cares much about the Season,' said Lord
Theakston. 'She was never fond of balls and squeezes, you
know.'

‘
But she was so gay in Brussels last year,' Marcus said. 'She
danced every dance.'

‘Things were very different in Brussels. We shouldn't judge anything by Brussels, you know.'

‘
I suppose not,' Marcus said hesitantly. 'And of course it
must have been a shock for her when poor Tantony was
killed, just after they'd become engaged. But she ought to be
over it by now,' he went on with faint indignation. 'It isn't as
if it was a love-match, after all.’

Theakston hesitated, thinking of his enigmatical step
daughter. Marcus had been her childhood champion. When
she was still in pigtails, 'Marcus says' and 'Marcus thinks' had
punctuated all Rosamund's conversation — none the less after he had gone away, like a story-book hero, to the war, and she
hadn't seen him for two years.

Last year Lucy had taken her and her cousin Sophie to
Brussels for their come-out. Marcus had been there too: a
dashing staff officer at Headquarters, and making a fool of
himself over that practised siren, Lady Annabel Robb. So
Rosamund had dedicated herself to becoming the toast of the
Season: feverishly gay, she had danced every dance, flirted
with all the officers, and finally become engaged to handsome
Philip Tantony, at the same time as Sophie had accepted a
Major Larosse.

Well, poor Tantony, like Larosse, had died a hero at Waterloo. Bel Robb had dropped Marcus callously and
married elsewhere, and Marcus, his eyes opened, was now not only free and eligible, but as eager to marry Rosamund as she
could ever have wanted. Yet Rosamund seemed curiously
unwilling to come to the point. No-one had thought her par
ticularly attached to Tantony; assumed she had accepted him
because she couldn't have Marcus; but Theakston wondered whether perhaps they had all mistaken the situation. He had
a notion that Marcus was deceiving himself, perhaps wilfully. So now he diverted Marcus's attention by asking, 'How did
you get on with your house-hunting?'

‘
Not very well. We looked at half a dozen places, all very
splendid, I thought, but Mama's awfully particular, and
nothing seems to be just exactly what she's looking for. For
myself,' he added in a burst of confidentiality, 'I'd as soon live
in Town all the time, but Mama says we have to have a Seat.
She wonders that none of the previous Earls have purchased
before now.'

‘
You've chosen the right time to buy: everybody else is
selling. But you have Shawes, in any case,' said Danby —
unguardedly, since it was next door to Morland Place where
Rosamund had been staying. 'It's small, but very handsome.’

‘
Yes, but it won't do for Mama. Yorkshire's so far away,'
Marcus said wistfully. 'I say, sir —’

Theakston cut him off hastily. 'I must go to her ladyship.
Good luck with your commission — the dinner-service is very
fine. I should get Abrams to bid for you — he's the best of
'em,' he added with a nod towards the throng in the hall.

‘
Oh no, sir, I mean to bid for myself,' Marcus said proudly,
and Theakston shrugged and left him to it. Lady Barbara was
unlikely to get her dinner-service that way, he thought; but
he had no brief for Lady Barbara, who was very nearly the
most unpleasant woman he knew.

He caught up with Lucy in the dining-room next door,
talking to Lord John Anstey of York, a family friend of her
childhood, and patriarch of the vast Anstey coal empire.

‘
I really am surprised at Brummell – running off like this
and leaving Alvanley and Worcester to stand the row,' Anstey
was saying. 'I hear they're damnably compromised – joined
with him to raise a loan, which is bound to be called in now.
And then there's the Manners brothers. He was involved in
some sort of annuity scheme with them, so I hear – all very
shaky. Tipping the double to the duns is one thing, but to
leave your friends –’

Lucy was looking ready to explode.

‘
No, no – nothing else he could do,' Danby said quickly. 'If
he hadn't run, he'd have been taken up, and that'd be the end
of that. He'd never be able to pay anyone back from inside
the King's Bench, now would he?’

Anstey looked doubtful. 'But surely he's all to pieces? I
hear his debts are frightful. What can he hope to do – even
from France?'

‘
It's much cheaper to live in France. He has some capital left
– not much, but with the strictest economy, he might live on
the interest and pay back a little here and there,' Danby said, aware of how futile it sounded. Brummell practise economy?
As well expect water to run uphill. 'And then there's a consid
erable sum still held up in Chancery, which must become his
sooner or later.'

‘
In Chancery? Then it'll be later rather than sooner. Men have grown old and died waiting for legacies to be released
from Chancery.'

‘
I know. But it's the best hope there is,' Theakston said
with a shrug.

Anstey looked at Lucy and sighed. 'Well, I suppose he must
feel the disgrace as heartily as anyone. He owed you quite a
sum, didn't he?’

Lucy frowned. 'Danby gave him a trifle from time to time,
but he knows we'd never press him for repayment, not like
that dreadful Meyler creature. It's all
his
fault George has
had to run. He was the one who started all the fuss.'

‘
I'm afraid it had to come sooner or later, Lucy,' Anstey
said gently. 'Even Hobhouse was saying –’

 
Hobhouse! All his friends conveniently forget now
that if positions had been reversed, he'd have given them
anything,' Lucy burst out. 'He was the most generous man in
the world.'

‘
Well, he won't be the last to come to grief, I'm afraid,'
Anstey said. 'There are breakdowns everywhere, and bank
ruptcies, and any number of small banks failing. That's half
the trouble, you know – this damned paper money! There's
no end to the bills banks can issue, and with trade stagnant
that can only lead to inflation. We must get back to gold
currency, but we daren't do it too quickly, especially with
prices rising so fast.’