Chapter Seven
Gibb scanned the area around his booth and nodded his assent to the hovering lackey. It was perfect for what he wanted. Not too near any other boxes, with shrubbery close to the rear. Ideal for someone to use as a means to enter unnoticed, also for anyone else to use to hide and see what transpired. He glanced at the covered dishes and fruits on a side table, the overlarge—and empty—cupboard set across one corner, and the Chinese screen to hide the servants’ entrance. Calculated that unless someone stood close by and peered through the window the occupants of the box would be out of immediate view, and smiled at the anxious manservant who waited with patience in the doorway.
“Excellent, thank you. If anyone asks you, I am not sharing my box this evening. Understand?”
His voice held a hint of menace and the servant swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously and he bowed. “Of course, your grace.”
Whether or not he meant it, or whether if someone greased his palm he would say otherwise, Gibb didn’t know. He could but hope his reputation as someone who preferred not to socialize, and as the type of man not to tangle with, had gone before him and made that seem feasible. Perhaps even some of the doubts with regards to how Hester had died—was she pushed to do it?—would work in his favor for once and show him as a definite man not to cross.
It was a double-edged sword. By removing himself from the capital and not commenting on anything that had happened in his marriage, he had left himself open to the tittle-tattle and gossip the ton thrived on. However, it also meant no one knew much about him as he now was. A few hints about how he had always had a hard streak, and that hadn’t lessened with the years, helped to foster the myth, as did the fracas with Denby Crowe. As Henry had pointed out to him when they were alone, no one knew how Gibb would behave in any given circumstance or how his mind worked.
‘It is easy to show you as a hard man who takes no prisoners, especially after the poison m’sister spread. Your true friends know it’s rubbish and will defend you, but that works because others will think it’s friendship that makes them say so. And’—Henry had grinned wolfishly—‘no one knows we are friends so if I say you are hard it will be believed.’
Gibb had to hope so. A lot depended on no one approaching him when he left the box to watch Evangeline. Up until her display she had, after a lot of arguments, agreed to Wiggs, an ex-pugilist and now one of Harry’s grooms, staying with her. He was to all intents and purposes her new handyman, sick of Gibb’s high-handedness. It had taken all of his persuasion to get Evangeline to agree. Only after meeting Wiggs, and Gibb explaining how he would then be able to carry out their plan without worry, did she accept her shadow.
The manservant employed to service the booth left through the door at the rear of the building—the servants’ entrance—and Gibb sat in the chair to one side of the window and absently looked outside. The gardens were beginning to fill up. Already an orchestra was playing outside the gothic folly and he could hear the strains of some violins playing a gentle piece. Something that reminded him of summer days and a warm woman.
What? Since when had he felt like that? Since now it seemed. Gibb shifted in his chair and steepled his hands on his stomach and chin. He was uneasy about the evening and wanted everything to go without a hitch. Had they thought their plan through properly? Nothing untoward must happen to Evangeline.
Was it all down to Evangeline’s influence or had this change of heart been creeping up on him unnoticed for longer? He examined his thoughts carefully. He still had no inclination to have anyone rely on him. That idea, even in the abstract, brought back the black cloud he had tried so hard to disperse. The intimation that another person might put their life in his hands made him shudder in horror.
But was that not what Evangeline was doing? That insidious notion tensed every muscle in his body. No, he decided, that was different. He had offered to help, no more than that. She was still very much in command of her life. Look at the way she had railed at the thought of Wiggs. He relaxed again. This scenario was different from the one with Hester, he had subconsciously always known that. Evangeline would never ask for more than he was prepared to give. The opposite was more likely.
Gibb sat upright, his heart pounding, as he waited for the voice of Hester begging, pleading, shouting, to invade his mind.
And waited.
It didn’t.
He had no idea whether to laugh or cry. Instead he poured a goblet of champagne and toasted the air. Was this the beginning of a new chapter of his life? One where his late wife did not invade? He hoped so. Not that it would change his attitude with regards to relationships, that was fixed, but for other things… He could only pray. Gibb sank back into the chair once more.
A couple he knew walked past without seeing him even though they gave the box a brief glance. It was therefore seen as what it purported to be. Almost unnoticed. The door, which led out into the public area, was to one side, not at the front as most were, and he could tuck his chair into a corner and spy happily.
The rear door opened with the tiniest of squeaks, just enough to warn him someone was about to enter. As it was hidden by the screen he sat up and watched as a handkerchief waved around the edge.
Gibb laughed. “Come in, friend. All is as it should be.”
“Phew,” Henry said as he and Mary entered and sat in Gibb’s hidden corner with him. “This cloak and dagger lark is nowhere as easy as I thought it would be. We had to dodge Gibbons and Fitzgerald along with several ladies. Plus the family Crowe, sans Denby. But here we are safe and sound.”
Gibb pulled the lacy curtain across the glassless window and poured more champagne. “As long as we keep our voices low this is the perfect place to meet,” he said. “I’ve checked that you can both stand in the cupboard that on any other occasion would hold all the crockery and cutlery and not be seen. Cornelia will have no reason to open it, for everything will be to hand. I’ve moved it so she won’t think to try and hide behind it, but use the screen instead.”
“So we stay here while you go to watch Evangeline,” Mary said and sighed as she undid her cloak and let the hood fall across her shoulders. “I so want to see her act.”
“You will one day,” Evangeline said as she also entered the room from the rear door. “Oh, this is perfect. Before you say anything else, Wiggs is outside, watching for anything untoward or unexpected visitors. I just popped by to say everything is set, and I hope we can stone those Crowes once and for all tonight. There is a good crowd, and I for one do not feel even one iota ashamed of what we are about to do. It is fate,” she opined in a pious way, which she spoiled by sniggering. She grinned at Henry and Mary as she remembered their recent meeting.
With her knees knocking and her heart in her mouth, she’d stood quietly as Gibb had introduced them. ‘Evangeline, this is—‘
‘Henry and Mary,’ Henry said before Gibb could decide how to introduce them. ‘And we are looking forward to helping you. Mary has confessed Denby was a dashed nuisance to her sister Letty a week or so ago. He’s a pest.’
Evangeline nodded. ‘It is not convenable—suitable—for me to call you so, my lord.’
‘Then the deal is off,’ Henry said cheerfully.
‘Henry, do not tease. Please, Miss…Evangeline,’ Mary said as Gibb watched in amusement. “I was plain Mary Higginbottom, and my papa is in trade. We are friends here, I hope. I need a friend.’
‘So do I,’ Gibb said. Evangeline nibbled her lip. ‘What do you say?’ Gibb continued. ‘It is up to you.’
Evangeline let her breath out in a whoosh. ‘Then, thank you, Henry and Mary, I appreciate all you re going to do.’
‘What about me?’ Gibb said in a mock sorrowful voice. ‘Do you appreciate me?’
Evangeline had patted his cheek, much, he saw, to the amusement of Henry and Mary. ‘Always.’
There was a knock on the rear door and they turned as one to stare in that direction. Gibb walked over and opened it.
Wiggs stood outside with an apologetic look on his face. “It’s time Miss Evangeline went to get ready.”
Gibb nodded as Evangeline joined him at the door. “Ready?”
“Oh yes, I hope to see you all later. And Mary, pick an evening for a ladies’ night. I’ll show you how to wield a knife.”
“Oh…my…but…” Mary looked at Henry, who shrugged.
“As long as you don’t aim it at me.”
“Does Mary defer to Henry over everything?” Evangeline asked as Gibb escorted her to the edge of the bushes and stood with her while Wiggs reconnoitred the way ahead. It was important she got to her dressing area unseen. “Does she have no say in matters, or any ideas of her own?”
“It seems to work for them,” Gibb said.
“Not for you, though,” Evangeline said. Poor Gibb, did he know what he was missing not allowing anyone through his self-imposed barriers? She might not want to be subservient or reliant on others but she was happy to help and be helped. In general. “Nor for me either.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. It was almost the truth, and she wasn’t prepared to say any more.
“As you say, it is not for me,” Gibb agreed. “Theirs is an unusual marriage, and they know I will tell you this. After Hester, my…late wi…” he stumbled over the word, “wife died, her father turned to drink at a rapid pace, oh don’t say it, I accept that was not my fault.” His voice belied his insistence but Evangeline stayed silent. This confession was enormous and very important.
“The man had always drunk to excess, but now he made no attempt to hide it, and Henry had to marry into money. Mary’s papa is in trade but has the money. To their utter amazement, they discovered a mutual liking, I imagine you would say, and the marriage works. Some people shun them, but a marriage such as theirs, of mutual convenience and between the classes, is now more common than you would think.”
“As you say.” That was one of the stupidest retorts known to man or woman. Evangeline was glad to see her ‘minder’ return. “Ah, that is Wiggs beckoning. I will see you later.” She picked up her skirts of green and brown, chosen for their ability to meld in with the scenery, and followed Wiggs without looking back. Now she had to move her mind from Gibb to her performance.
“A good number ready to watch, miss,” Wiggs said as they reached the area curtained off for her. “I’ll keep out of sight, but I’ll have my eyes peeled.”
Evangeline nodded. “Good,” she said absently and stiffened as she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. “Keep a watch on Denby Crowe. I wouldn’t put it past him to try something stupid.”
Wiggs inclined his head. “His grace said much the same thing, miss. I’ve got my eye on him, don’t you worry. I know him, he’s not over liked by his servants, and when we’re in the Boar’s Head, we talk.”
She’d bet they did, and guessed a lot of scurrilous gossip would be mulled over in the tap. “If he looks in any way, shape or form to be about to intervene, stop him, otherwise let him be.”
“I’ll do that.”
The orchestra changed to playing a dramatic piece. Her signature tune. Evangeline checked her knives and stilettos were where she wanted them, took a deep breath and strode into the makeshift arena. The crowd was larger than she had anticipated, and the organizers had roped off a fair-sized space for her to use. Several burly watermen had been hired to make sure no one ventured into her throwing line, or behind the thick wooden wall she used to position people against.
As she bowed very flamboyant and showman-like to the watching crowd, she saw Denby Crowe out of the corner of her eye and wondered uneasily if he was there to try to make trouble, or to ensure Gibb was also there and out of the box. Whichever, she had to trust Wiggs and Gibb and get on with her act.
The knives were honed to perfection and the painted screen she’d flung over the wall bright and eerie, as red bled into orange and purple and the outlines of people and animals could be seen if you looked carefully. This part of her act she could do by rote, throwing her knife so no outline was pierced, chatting to her audience and drawing them in. The applause was loud and long and Evangeline took stock. Maybe the redhaired gentleman over to one side would work as her target?
“Now, Messieurs and Mesdames, I look for a willing helper. Do I have a volunteer, or do I need to press-gang someone?” The laughter was nervous. It seemed, as ever, no one would step forward. “No? No one willing to show their bravery?” Silence then…
“I will.” Gibb moved toward her. His expression dared her to argue.
“You, your grace? You are willing to put your”—she raised her eyebrows—“body in my hands.” The innuendo was one she used every time, and always raised a laugh. This time was no exception.
Gibb grinned. “Oh yes.” That drew even more titters and raucous laughter. He bowed extravagantly, a parody of what a true bow should be, and winked at her. “Any time, but be gentle with me.”
“I, monsieur, am always gentle. If the situation warrants it.” Someone whistled long and loud and she curtsied in the unknown’s direction. “Just so. However, now I must explain to my vic…ahem…” She coughed theatrically. “Partner.” Evangeline drew Gibb close and spoke to him in rapid French, something she had learned he understood when she had sworn about Denby Crowe. “What are you playing at? Why you? I thought you were going to stand back.”
“Crowe is up to something, I know it,” Gibb responded in the same tongue. “The rumors are he is going to show you who is boss. Therefore I want to be able to look out at him and the crowd. I have no idea who his cohorts are, if anyone. What better place than from in front of the wall? And, you must admit, I know what to do and will not flinch.”
That was true. “In that case, follow my lead, and a little flinch on occasion will add to the atmosphere.”
He chuckled. “Noted.”
“So, your grace,” Evangeline said out loud in the pretty French accent she emphasized on such occasions, “if you would please stand on the marks and do exactly as I tell you.”
“That’s something new, eh? Gibb Alford doing as a woman tells him,” Crowe sneered. “Dictated to instead of dictating. How the mighty have fallen.”
Gibb smiled. “You should try it,” he advised as Evangeline checked he was where she wanted. “It is a revelation.”
“That’s told you, Denby. Not under the thumb, eh?” someone shouted. Catcalls echoed around the gardens and Crowe reddened.
Probably not a good thing, Gibb thought as he took his jacket off, tucked his cuffs up and made sure his cravat was tight. He knew Evangeline would pretend it was to save his neck, reduce something for her to fix her eyes on and not have buttons to aim for. He also knew it made no difference whatsoever. Nevertheless, he pretended to listen with care to her instructions, nodded and grimaced where he would be expected to and took up the position she indicated. Then he waited and watched her as she twirled her stiletto into a whirling, gleaming, flickering indistinct shape of silver. The audience, as they stood, seemingly transfixed by the action. Denby Crowe. Wiggs—almost hidden in one corner. All concentrating on Evangeline and him.
“Wave this handkerchief,” Evangeline instructed as she handed Gibb a linen square. He did and the stiletto she used to pin it to the wall flew through the air so fast it was a moving blur of color. The audience cheered, and Crowe jeered as Gibb let them see the handkerchief fluttering in the breeze.
“Easy,” Crowe shouted and was hushed by several people around him. He scowled but subsided.
“Take off your cravat. I will do my best to miss your throat, your grace. It might make it easier to breathe when you see you are still alive.”
He grinned as she winked at him.
Several gentlemen shouted out encouragement, most of it only just the correct side of racy. One or two ladies tut-tutted and one walked away with her nose in the air. Gibb unwound the yard-long strip of linen from around his neck and waved it with a flourish.
“And next?”
“This, your grace.” Evangeline pointed at the stirrups of an arc, which rocked from side to side. It was the forerunner of the wheel due in a week or so. “If you stand just so.” She indicated two footholds.
With a bow, Gibb did as she asked and scanned the crowd as the implement made him sway and the cravat he held high shifted as if it was caught in a breeze.
Gibb made sure he moved only his eyes, not his head, to keep track of Crowe as the man edged forward to stand halfway down one side. What were his intentions?
For the first part of the rest of the show Crowe remained silent. Then, as Evangeline changed tactics and gave Gibb a flurry of instructions, the man tensed and step forward. Evangeline noticed and her eyes narrowed. Gibb stared and willed her not to react. She gave an imperceptible nod to show she understood, and threw her knife high in the air. “Lift your left arm,” she called.
As Gibb obeyed, Crowe made his move. “Hey, Gibb, look out, over here,” Crowe called urgently. “Watch out, Alford, move this way.”
It took all of Gibb’s formidable will not to give in to his instincts and turn toward the voice and react as most people would. However, he steadfastly stared ahead and ignored Crowe as Evangeline’s knife headed in his—Gibb’s—direction.
“Move, Menteith, move now.” The insistent note in Crowe’s voice was hard to ignore. If it had been anyone else, or had he not been forewarned something might happen, would he have obeyed? Gibb would like to have thought not but he wondered as he stood, seemingly relaxed, and the knife landed quivering in the wood two inches below his armpit. If he had done as Crowe demanded it would have hit him square in the chest. Presumably what Crowe wanted?
The crowd cheered and clapped. Gibb took his time to turn his head toward where Crowe had stood. It was no surprise to note Crowe was no longer there. He nodded to Evangeline, who had pulled out her knife and stood close by. “Finish the act and we will see what happens next,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Wiggs will follow him.”
Her eyes narrowed as she searched his face, then she gave a tiny nod. “And now for our finale…” Knives flew toward him so fast they appeared to meld into each other. They surrounded him and at the end, and as she demanded he released his cuffs she pinned him to the wall by those. The crowd went wild.
“It was a success,” he said as they took a bow together. He waited patiently, his eyes scanning the crowd as Evangeline chatted to all and sundry before she was able to move toward her equipment. It was longer than he thought before they could get leave. As Evangeline packed away her knives, to be put under the safekeeping of Wiggs, Gibb spoke with various friends from the audience and acted as if he had no idea what Crowe had been about. He chose not to acknowledge he had noticed Evangeline secrete a stiletto up her sleeve. As she locked her cases, Wiggs reappeared. Gibb made his farewells and proceeded in a circuitous manner to where Wiggs stood in the shadow of the tress.
“It was a success,” he told Wiggs. “I hope it augurs well for the rest of the evening. What have you discovered?”
“Crowe’s gone over the river by boat,” Wiggs said. “I ’eard ’im tell someone it was all because he thought he saw a hornet attack you, and he were off home. Load of rubbish and I reckon his mate thought so for he said Crowe was an idiot. Didn’t go down with his cohorts the way he wanted, I don’t think. Anyhow, Crowe scowled and got into a boat. Wants to get out of the way I reckon. What have you done to upset him, your grace?”
“Don’t ask,” Gibb advised as Evangeline joined them. “Just stay back outside the box and listen in case I call, Wiggs. You too,” he said to Evangeline. She pouted and he tapped her cheek. “No sulking. You promised.”
“Oh, but it is not fair. I want to hear.” Evangeline rolled her eyes. “Men get all the best bits.”
“If you stand to one side of the door you will. Hear,” he added. “And somehow I think throwing knives is not too shabby a thing to do.”
“I’d hear more by the window,” Evangeline pointed out. “Nothing to filter the sound. And if something goes wrong, I can throw one of those knives through the aperture. It would be perfect.”
“And stand a better chance of being seen by others.” Or killing someone. Neither outcome appealed to him. A little of the ice that had encased his heart meted and drifted away forever.
She sighed dramatically. “True. I promise to stick to the plan.”
Another chunk of ice joined the first. “Good. Then let’s go and put the next part into action.”
* * * *
Gibb made sure he lifted the latch on the booth’s door with as much noise as possible and scraped his boots as he entered for good measure. Not only to let whoever was inside, if indeed anyone was—apart from Henry and Mary—know that he was there, but also as a warning to Wiggs and Evangeline at the rear of the tiny building. As he had expected, the room seemed empty. The food table was untouched and unless you looked closely you wouldn’t know that the carafe of wine had been moved. Not, he thought, by Henry or Mary who were now ensconced in the cupboard, but by whoever he thought was behind the screen.
He whistled nonchalantly and poured himself some wine, taking care not to look toward the screen. So much depended on Cornelia, if it was she, behaving as Eloise had overheard her saying she would. As it was well known once the food was delivered, unless you specifically asked for it, there would be no servants in the immediate area until called, it was a natural assumption Cornelia would act as she had planned.
Gibb lifted the covers from the food and studied it as if it was the most important thing in his life at that moment. He turned his back on the screen and watched the reflections in the large silver epergne he’d placed in a strategic position. He had to hope that Cornelia hadn’t wondered why such an incongruous thing was in a booth at Vauxhall, and had guessed she was unaware of the niceties in the booths. When he’d mentioned it to Mary, she’d smiled and agreed with him. ‘I’d hazard a guess that Cornelia has never been to Vauxhall in a peer’s booth so she’ll be none the wiser. It’s a good idea, leave it.’
The reflection of a woman showed briefly in the epergne’s shiny surface. Gibb counted to three in his mind, turned and looked the young woman up and down. He’d wager his best bagpipes her parents had no idea she was dressed as she was. Her cheeks were rouged, her hair in a complicated coiffeur and her gown was little short of shocking. It was so low-cut her breasts threatened to spill out of the just decorous neckline.
“Cornelia Crowe, I presume? It’s hard to tell in that outfit.”
Evangeline strained to hear what was happening inside the room. There were voices, but so muffled she couldn’t decipher words or who was speaking. Not even if the speaker was male or female. Next to her Wiggs put his ear to the door and frowned. “The besom is in there. Hold on, miss, and let me see if this door is locked.”
“Don’t make a noise,” Evangeline hissed. “It might squeak.”
“Not how I do it.” Wiggs opened the door a scant inch. Immediately the voices condensed into a male and a female. “Anyways, I got a mate to grease it so as to be double sure.”
She had to commend his forethought.
“So what brings you here, Cornelia?” That was Gibb.
“You have compromised me. You will have to marry me.” Evangeline assumed the speaker was Cornelia Crowe. Her voice was high and excited. “We need to go and tell my parents at once.”
Evangeline went down on her knees and glanced through a tiny knothole in the door she’d noticed earlier. As she’d hoped, Cornelia had her back to where Evangeline knelt. She held a glass in one hand and waved it around. “You turned Margaret down, and she wouldn’t try to do anything else, but I will. The Tarporlys have no spine. The Crowes are different. You upset Denby, and now he is snapping at us all. Papa has lost all our money in the gambling dens, I am here alone with you, so you will have to marry me.”
“And rescue your family, I presume,” Gibb drawled.
“Exactly,” Cornelia said in triumph. “You have enough to do that and still be as rich as Croesus.”
“Not quite, but do go on.”
“You will marry me and I will be a duchess.”
“No.” Gibb sounded bored.
“No?” Cornelia said with astonishment. “You have to.”
“Wrong, I don’t.”
“Ha, if you do not I will tell everyone you ruined me.” She stamped her foot. Evangeline rolled her eyes, even though no one could see her. What next? Drumming her heels or thumping the table with her fists? Or just noisy tears?
Through her tiny view hole Evangeline watched Gibb shrug. “Go ahead, you will not be believed.”
“I will, for I will scream and insist you molested me,” Cornelia announced. Her eyes sparkled with malicious glee. “What do you say about that?”
“The same as before. Go ahead,” Gibb invited. “It will do no good. I am not one you can blackmail or coerce. It will be you who comes off worse.”
She opened her mouth only to shut it in astonishment as Henry and Mary appeared, one out of the cupboard, one from behind it, like two jack-in-the-boxes, and stood in the middle of the room.
“What do you need help for?” Henry asked. “Nothing seems amiss.”
Cornelia dropped her glass and her face went from mottled to ashen. “B-but…” she stammered. “He ruined me. I was alone with him, so he has to marry me. He has to.”
Evangeline sighed. No doubt Cornelia would now stamp her foot again and pout.
She did.
“Silly girl, of course he hasn’t,” Henry said in an aristocratic drawl Evangeline envied. “We were here all along. Now we can tell the truth—that we saw you try to blackmail his grace into marrying you, to whit by lying that you were here with him alone. Or, if we feel it is worth our while, and you might learn something from this sorry mess, we can tell everyone you came with us to say how brave he was with all those knives flying around. The choice, Miss Crowe, is yours.”
There was a pregnant silence. Outside someone walked by chattering loudly in a light female voice and was answered by a deep baritone. Gibb took Cornelia’s glass from her and filled it. “Miss Crowe, I did nothing to harm your family, and if Denby told you I did, he lied. In fact, I have had little to do with him. He is a good ten years younger than I. The sole time I have actively faced him down was when he tried to intimidate La Belle Evangeline, the knife-thrower. I would have done the same to any man who terrorized a lady. Those are not the actions of a gentleman let alone a peer. He did our sex a disservice that night, and has continued to do so. Does he know you are here?”
Cornelia sniffed, wiped her eyes and shook her head. “But if you don’t want Margaret Tarporly, and you don’t want me, who do you want?”
“No one.”
Evangeline nodded to herself. It was as she’d envisaged. She needed to think hard. Not at that moment, for Cornelia broke into noisy tears.
“Enough.” Mary spoke for the first time. “You brought this on yourself, you silly girl. Now be quiet, blow your nose and tell me how you got here, and who knows your whereabouts.”
Cornelia shook her head. “No one knows. I crept out and came in a hackney. I used my pin money.”
“Good lord, you idiot,” Mary burst out. “Do you know what could have happened? Do you? Argh.” She flung her hands in the air. “Do you have no sense whatsoever?”
“Mary, enough now.” Henry spoke firmly. “She is an idiot, I agree, but I suspect it is up to us to make sure she doesn’t add ruination to stupidity. Come, Cornelia, we will take you up with us and hope you can get into your home unnoticed.”
Cornelia sniffed. “My maid is waiting to let me in.”
“Thank the lord for a grain of sense,” Gibb said. “Even if it is miniscule.” There was a muttered conversation between Gibb and Henry, before Henry and Mary escorted a still-sniffing Cornelia out.
Gibb waited until the door had closed and their footsteps receded into the distance then walked across to the door that shielded Evangeline and Wiggs. They both looked up at him, Wiggs shamefaced, Evangeline not so.
Evangeline smiled. “Hello. That went in an excellent manner I think.”
“You can come out now,” Gibb said evenly. “What if you had sneezed?”
“But we didn’t. How did you know we were here?”
“I know you,” he said, and winked.