CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“So that is my plan,” said Charles. He had brought Adam to dine at Grosvenor Street where Verity had been delighted to see him. She was looking more bewitching than ever this evening, as if she was purposely ignoring what he had told her about an attorney not being able to give his wife the life he would like her to have. “Tonight we will take part in whichever entertainment Julia has decided is good for us and Adam will give a good impression of a country bumpkin out on the town. Tomorrow, with your help, we will first see to Jenny’s commissions, and then he and I will look for divertissement in Captain Eastwick’s favourite gambling hell. From what your sister said, I doubt he will be averse to taking money off us.”
Julia made a dissatisfied grimace. “You will have to go to the linen warehouse without me. Mama and I are promised to our eldest brother’s wife for the day, no doubt to fend off whatever poor dab she has lined up as a suitable life partner for me. As it is in a noble cause, I shall be very kind and mention how hard you are working, Charles.”
“Thank you,” said Charles gravely. Then he frowned. “Will Mrs Bowman be at home, Verity? We are arranging for my friend Nicholas Dacre - whom you do not know, Julia, and I will be obliged if you instantly forget his name - to collect Kitty as soon as her husband leaves the house and to bring her and the child here.”
Verity met his eyes, a wrinkle of worry in them. “Yes, Mama will be in, for she is expecting Mr Tweedie to call about the Kensington villa. I will ask them to put off going again to look at it until I return. I am very glad you are going to rescue Kitty so soon, but is Grosvenor Street not the first place Captain Eastwick will search for her?”
Charles exchanged a look with Adam. “I am hoping he will have rather more on his mind by the time he discovers she is gone. Even if I cannot detect that he is cheating at cards, I intend taking him in charge for deception over those two women. Both offences count as fraud. Adam and I will disable him and take him to Bow Street. Once he is there, I can arrange for both the women he wronged to give evidence against him.”
Julia had been listening closely. “If you need a witness of good character, I will say I knew him in Shropshire as Mr North. The Cattsons themselves are in town. The whole family will tell you he was in their house under a false name.”
“I doubt my mother will look kindly on your visiting Bow Street,” said Charles, “but a written deposition will lend weight.”
Verity jumped up and crossed to the table. “Excellent idea. For Kitty’s sake, I would have him incarcerated as swiftly as possible. I will write the letter now, Julia, and you can sign it. My handwriting is by far more readable and this way, Charles will have it with him.” She paused in the act of reaching for a pen. “It puzzles me how Captain Eastwick knew about Miss Cattson and her fortune. Shropshire is very far away. What gave him the notion to inveigle himself into the household?”
“There may have been an announcement in the newspaper of her grandmother’s death. Or possibly the brother let it slip in conversation.”
“But he had already introduced himself to the brother under a false name. Also, how did he know about the household in Kent where Susan Norris was in service? She said he was courting her mistress. It’s puzzling, Charles. Kitty told me he not infrequently goes away for one or two months at a time, and then returns in funds. If he follows the same pattern every time, where does he get the information that there is an heiress whose family will pay him off? The newspapers cannot always give the details, surely?”
Charles met her eyes, struck again by her intelligence and wrenched beyond belief at the thought that they would really deal very well together if only he had greater financial security. “It is a valid point. I have been so focused on the outcome of his machinations that I hadn’t considered his sources. Could it simply be society gossip?”
Verity shook her head. “He does not move in society. He does not even come into this part of town.”
Then it must be the gentlemen he plays cards with. Did you not say Lieutenant Neville’s conversation resembles his own? Those men do move in society and depend on it, he will have their names and situations out of them in a matter of minutes under the guise of being a capital, sympathetic fellow. I have seen such blackguards many times. It is one of the ways to tell a sharp before ever he deals a hand.”
“I am more than ever glad I only play round games,” said Julia. She turned to Adam. “I hope you will not find it too awkward tonight, Adam. My brother has evidently forgotten that we are all bound for the Sans Pareil. The season has just opened. Miss Scott has written a new melodrama, and there is said to be a very fine ballet, as well as the farce.”
Adam smiled. “That sounds a good programme to me. Time was I’d have been cribbing the new play for all I was worth so I could reproduce it with the Players. It will be a novelty to simply watch and enjoy.”
Charles retreated into his own thoughts. It was fortunate that Julia had changed the subject. The stimulating exchanging of ideas with Verity was doing nothing for his mental equilibrium.
The Lord of the Castle was everything a melodrama should be. Verity sat back in satisfaction at the end of it. She looked around at the audience and waved to Lilith Fitzgilbert who was in a box further along with a party including her brother and stepmother. Access to theatres was something Verity would miss when she returned to Newmarket. Since Adam had disbanded his touring company, they were dependent on the far less frequent visits of the North and South Company of Comedians, unless they went to Bury St Edmunds when the Norwich Company were in the town.
“Oh no,” whispered Julia in consternation, ducking her head. “Sir Philip Munro is sitting in one of the opposite boxes and has just looked this way. Quick, Charles, talk to me as if we are discussing the play, or my future prospects, or anything. I need to appear completely absorbed. Did Verity tell you about that wretched reticule?”
Verity hid a smile. Julia’s beauty was forever attracting the wrong sort of admirers. It wasn’t a problem she herself had ever had. She turned to Adam, asking him for a proper account of Jenny and what exactly it was that she required in the way of linen. Nursery furnishings in the main, he said, and made her laugh with a tale of how Jenny had not been feeling well last week and the children had been so determined to be quiet and not disturb her that she hadn’t got a moment’s rest all afternoon because she was fretting about what mischief they were up to.
After the interval came the ballet with the Sans Pareil’s principal dancers, Monsieur and Madam Leclercq. The Woodman Prince was very pretty, but it didn’t hold Verity’s attention as much as the play. She might have enjoyed it more had she been seated next to Charles. However, he seemed determined to avoid paying her any particular attention this evening. That might suit him very well, but it did not forward her own designs. Accordingly, when the Fitzgilberts visited their box during the second interval she effected a change of seat with Julia and thus was close to Charles when the farce began.
“The Sportsman and Shepherd,” she said, reading the handbill. “It’s useful when a title describes the plot, don’t you think? It certainly makes it easier to follow the action if the players are in the habit of mumbling.”
There was a reluctant smile in Charles’s eyes. “Were you bored with Adam’s company?” he enquired.
“No indeed, but you know Julia always likes to discuss the topical nuances of any play she sees. She thought Adam, from his experience, would be a more informed conversationalist.”
“I could almost believe you if I did not know it would be Julia doing most of the talking. Why are you making this so difficult? Do you really wish to be the butt of society jokes about the gamekeeper marrying the bird in the hand? I am attempting to keep our relationship businesslike for both our sakes.”
“I do not want a businesslike relationship and nor, I think, do you at heart. You are being quite ridiculous, Charles. What does it matter whose money a young couple settles down on? Who will care?”
“Me. I care. I would as lief not feel shabby at the start of married life.”
“As well not every eligible gentleman feels the same or half the heiresses in the country would be doomed to die old maids without even the solace of children to comfort them in old age! Do reflect, Charles. We have not even kissed properly. We may not suit, and then we would have had all this honourable suffering for nothing.”
“Oh no, Verity. You are not tricking me like that. If once I kiss you properly, we are both lost.”
She peeped up at him. “Improperly, then?”
“No! And that is a fact, not a challenge.” He sat back with his arms folded and gazed steadfastly at the stage.
If once I kiss you, we are both lost. Verity’s heart danced and leaped inside her chest. She already knew Charles was the only gentleman she would ever accept. That single phrase told her she had been right and he did love her in return.
If once I kiss you, we are both lost.
She straightened her shoulders. So be it. If that was what it would take, she had best scheme how to achieve it.
By the next morning, Verity was no nearer a means of bringing Charles to a declaration. There was a great press of people in Grafton House, but with the benefit of many days of experience, she had the satisfaction of seeing respect in the men’s eyes when she completed Jenny’s purchases with dispatch. Adam only wished for a personal present to buy his wife now, so while he paid for the fabric and arranged its conveyance to Grosvenor Street, she and Charles stepped out into the street to hail them all a hackney to Rundell & Bridge. Verity wondered if a lingering look at the plain wedding bands might not go amiss while they were there.
As they left Grafton House, a shout of ‘thief’ went up inside. A ruckus instantly ensued.
“Oh no, not again,” cried Verity, turning to look, only to find herself separated from Charles in the confusion. His place at her side was taken by her brother-in-law. “Captain Eastwick!” she said in strong surprise, not at all liking the grip he had on her arm.
“Just the lady I was wishful of meeting,” he replied.
He really did have a powerful presence, even out here in the street. She wondered Kitty could stand it. “What is the matter?” she asked in alarm. “Is something wrong with my sister?”
“It’s more myself I’m concerned with. See to the gentleman, Smith. He is bound to be tiresome and I’d rather not have any delays.”
“Charles?” Verity twisted in alarm to look at him and felt a sudden slice of pain at her waist. “Ow. What are you...?”
“I wouldn’t struggle, my dear. I might hurt you. Things are a little desperate for niceties, I am afraid. Just keep walking.”
Her first thought was to pull out of his grip, gather up her skirts and run for safety. Her second thought was that she couldn’t because if Captain Eastwick was absent from home, Kitty and Ann might be arriving in Grosvenor Street any moment. Further thoughts were petrified into non-existence by the flash of steel in Captain Eastwick’s hand and the realisation of what the increasing pain at her waist had been caused by.
“Stay still, Verity, he has a knife,” called Charles urgently. There was a workmanlike set of thuds behind her and then he was on her other side massaging his knuckles. “Shocking manners your colleague has got, Eastwick. We hadn’t even been introduced. Train him yourself, did you?”
“Damn you, Congreve. As you see, I have a blade pressed against Miss Bowman’s ribs. If you don’t want her blood on your hands, you’ll stay out of this.”
“There would be more chance of a river flowing uphill than that,” said Charles.
“Where are you taking me?” said Verity. “And why?” She didn’t try to keep the fear out of her voice as she was hustled along. If Captain Eastwick thought her cowed, he might relax his hold. Had Adam seen them? He had won prize purses for rough fighting in his younger days. Pray God he was following.
“We are going, my dear sister, to a private establishment I frequent. Your friend Mr Congreve is more than welcome to accompany us. He may lose some money while we are occupied. The whist is of a particularly high standard.”
Occupied? Susan Norris and Hannah came vividly to mind. Perspiration sheeted off her. She faltered, only for another prick from the knife to spur her on. This couldn’t be happening. They could not be being abducted in broad daylight. Why was Charles not tackling him? It was to his credit that he daren’t risk her being injured, but surely it would be far harder to escape once they were at their destination?
“How did you know where I was?” she asked.
Captain Eastwick smiled with satisfaction. “Errand boys. No one ever notices them. My lad hears you say there’s no need for a hackney just to go to Grafton House. He tells me. I come here. Information is currency, my dear and there is always someone poorer than oneself. The boy gets a farthing. I stand to get a great deal more.”
Verity’s voice rose. “More? What do you mean? What do you want of me?”
“Not your body, or only in a manner of speaking. I need your money, my dear. I owe a considerable sum to a gentleman who is being rather pressing over the repayment. Unfortunately, he has made his displeasure known by disrupting my usual supply of funds. Now, while I am owed a significant amount myself, the fellow who owes me has even less cash than I. He does, however, have his liberty, hence this scheme.”
“You are mistaken, Captain Eastwick. I have no money.” They were hurrying so fast through the gradually thinning crowds that she had lost all sense of direction. Every turn was accompanied by a wrench on her arm or another sharp pain at her waist. She had the ludicrous and fantastically ill-timed thought that if she’d worn long stays this morning rather than a more flattering short laced bodice in order to captivate Charles, she wouldn’t be in nearly such a bad way now.
“You have a legacy.” They slowed at last, she was pushed through a narrow alley and into a small, grimy courtyard.
Captain Eastwick opened a door. There was a lantern hook above it, and inside was a cream painted hallway. At one stage the embellishments had been picked out in gold. It would still, no doubt, look reasonably opulent by candlelight. In the light of a cold October day, it revealed itself as shabby and in need of a good clean. A menacing individual made to shut the door as soon as they were through, but was thwarted by dint of Charles leaning on it until he too was inside.
“Pray let me go,” said Verity, wishing this was a bad dream she could simply wake up from. “You are under a misapprehension. My legacy is conditional. I will not be able to benefit from it for six months.”
Captain Eastwick gave a humourless laugh. “So Kit informed me. A quaint conceit. It will nevertheless be yours once you marry, isn’t that how these things are always arranged, Congreve?” He prodded her past an open doorway on the left of the passage where several gentlemen could be seen at play, and indicated a door on the right. “Behold, madam, your bridegroom.”
The room was stuffy with stale alcohol fumes, and crowded with tables. Soldiers, merchants and gentlemen lounged around them playing at cards, dice or backgammon. At their entrance, one of the officers at the table by the window rose to his feet. He smirked and made an ironic bow. “We meet again,” he said.
Verity stared in horror at Lieutenant Neville.
“I... I cannot...”
“I’m afraid you will have to. I cannot stall my creditor any more. Come, it won’t be so bad. Neville is nearly as pretty as I was in my heyday, and you’ve not heard Kit complaining, have you? Stand up straight, girl. The priest is here with a blank licence in his pocket. We’ll even clear one of the rooms upstairs for your wedding night.”
Further around the table, Lieutenant Crisp shot to his feet, his fists balled. “Neville, you blackguard! You said we were here to collect what you owe us. Is this your windfall? The colonel will hear of such an infamous scheme, you may be sure. Miss Bowman, I will escort you home. This is no fit place for you. I am ashamed to be here myself.”
Captain Eastwick signalled to a rough-looking man standing by the wall. The next moment, Peter Crisp was felled with a blow to the temple. Verity pulled away with a cry and pressed herself against Charles’s comforting body.
“Unprovoked assault,” said Charles. “This is quite a litany you’re building up.”
Verity turned. “I cannot wed anyone,” she said in a stronger voice. Her side ached abominably, but she daren’t look down to see if she was losing blood. “It is not in my power to do so. Mr Congreve and I are already married.”
“Impossible,” snarled Captain Eastwick. “Where? When? You cannot be. I have had the house watched since Kit first told me the address.”
Charles wrapped his left arm around her. “It was before we left Newmarket,” he replied in a voice so rock-steady any jury in the land would have believed him without question. “An heiress who is already fond of me is a rare thing, and I did not quite trust London not to go to my wife’s head.”
Verity leaned back against him and looked up. “Charles,” she said reproachfully.
He smiled down at her. “Hush, I promised you your Season unencumbered, didn’t I?”
There was so much love in his eyes that Verity was dazzled for a moment. Never had she felt so complete. When her brother-in-law snarled in rage, she was furious to have Charles’s unvoiced declaration ruined. Any feelings of apprehension for herself came a long way second.
“What of it?” Eastwick grated. “Neville can marry a widow as well as a virgin. Step aside, sister, lest you are injured.”
For answer, Verity clutched Charles even more firmly.
“Killing me will avail you nothing,” said Charles. “Mrs Congreve’s inheritance has been mine these two weeks and goes to my nephew on my death.”
Captain Eastwick’s face turned murderous. Without warning, Verity was yanked back to his side and she yelled in pain. The knife flashed in his hand. “Then if you wish to keep your wife’s pretty skin intact, you will pass the money over now. Two thousand pounds will suffice for the present. More will ensure her life for longer. One of my men will go with you to draw it out.”
“You will have a long wait. I do not have the money yet. The law is a tardy mistress. You had much better let us go.”
“Borrow against the expectation then. Your credit will be good, I’m sure, though I cannot promise as much for the state of Miss Bowman’s - sorry, Mrs Congreve’s - person if you tarry too long.”
From the hallway came the sound of male voices as the inhabitants of the other card room pressed into the doorway to see what was happening. Amongst them, Verity saw the enormously reassuring presence of Adam Prettyman, his coat open and his neckerchief loosened, looking for all the world as if he’d been there all along.
“How dare you,” she said. “This is extortion. Any of these men will testify you threatened force to get the money. I refuse to be bargained over like... like a stake at cards.”
Please, please let it work. Please let him take the bait. Otherwise Charles will rush him and will surely be killed.
Across the room, Charles’s eyes went wide with shock. He understood her.
“Cards,” slurred a voice from the crowded doorway in an accent as unlike Adam’s as she had ever heard. “That’s what we’re here for, cards.”
“Cards,” repeated Captain Eastwick thoughtfully. He smoothed his hair and his moustache, considered the clasp knife in his hand and looked back at Charles. “If you are unwilling to borrow the money, what do you say to piquet, Mr Congreve? Three rubbers of six deals each. If you win two out of three, you both walk out of here unmolested. If I win, I have the use of your wife for... shall we say a week? I daresay I can make sufficient money from her in that time to cover my debt. Decide quickly, before the stakes rise.” He stroked the tip of his knife down the front of Verity’s bodice, watching the material peel easily apart in its wake.
Charles’s fists bunched. His eyes searched to right and left as if looking for an ally and finding none. “I’ll... I’ll do it, damn you. But Mrs Congreve sits by my side.”
Captain Eastwick pushed her contemptuously across to him. “Enjoy her company while you may.”
A table was hauled nearer the centre of the room and Charles and Verity shoved roughly into chairs. Charles pulled off his neck cloth and formed it into a pad that she could hold against her side. As she was searching in her reticule for a ribbon to secure it in place, other seats were pulled up so spectators could watch the game. Verity was aware of expectant heavy breathing behind her. She shuddered and felt for Charles’s arm. In contrast to his pretended nervous demeanour, his grip was firm and steady. He withdrew his hand and rested his fingers lightly on the table. Behind him, Verity caught a glimpse of the heavy-breathing gentleman’s coat sleeve. She ducked her head, keeping her expression neutral. It was good to know that when Charles won the bet, Adam was at their backs to help them fight their way out of the house.