CHAPTER TWENTY
The incongruousness of Godmama’s pretty sitting room, with Mama, Mr Tweedie, Kitty and Ann and discovered in the act of eating macaroons and drinking lemonade, made Verity flounder. It was worlds away from the gambling hell and Charles’s desperate game, worlds away from the stinking street with Kitty’s husband’s blood seeping into the ground. For a moment she didn’t know where she was or why she was there. “I...” she began
Charles was faster to recover. “Mrs Eastwick, I am glad to see you and your daughter here and safe.”
Kitty gave a tremulous smile. “Your friend came for us so quickly there was no chance to change my mind. I hope I have not forgotten anything important. When can we be away to Newmarket, please? Simon knows this address.”
Charles’s face changed. He squeezed Verity’s hand, then walked forward and took Kitty’s. “That need not trouble you any more,” he said in a gentle tone. “I must inform you of your husband’s death. He was stabbed in the street by an unknown assailant as we were taking him to Bow Street to face charges.”
Kitty’s hand went to her breast. “Simon is dead?” She reached for her daughter. “Ann, do you hear that? Your father is dead.”
The little girl looked up from where she was sitting on a footstool next to her grandmother. She had the same wariness in her eyes that Kitty often displayed when talking of Captain Eastwick, wariness that should never be seen on a child’s face. “May I have my new doll back then? He took it.”
“Yes, my love, if the pawn shop still has it. Oh, I hardly know what I am saying. Can I fetch the rest of my possessions from Henrietta Street? I left everything as if we had only stepped out to do the marketing. There is not much. Two gowns, cooking pots, bed linen, Ann’s clothes.” She caught her lip. “If they are still there, that is. News travels fast in those streets. With Simon dead, the landlady may already have bolted the door against us and taken our possessions in lieu of rent.”
“Oh!” said Verity, galvanised. “As he died, Captain Eastwick whispered ‘Kit’s book. Get him’. No one heard but me. I do not know which book he meant.”
Kitty gave a short laugh. “I have only one book. Anything else would be sold or pawned. I brought it with me. I told you, it never leaves me now.” Delving into her basket, she extracted a small sturdy book showing evidence of much use. “It does not surprise me that he had no last words for me. Has he written a message on one of the pages, do you suppose? I have never noticed anything.”
“May I see?” Charles reached for Domestic Cookery and moved to the sofa, motioning for Verity to sit down next to him.
This caused a furore by exposing the slit in her gown and her bloodstained bandage. Verity waved away offers of help, refusing to be tended to until Charles had examined the book.
“Nonsense,” said her mother, and gave immediate orders for hot water and clean bandages.
Charles continued to turn the pages. After a pause during which Verity submitted to her mother’s ministrations and suspected every person in the room was convinced they should be investigating the book for themselves, he said, “Have these last pages always been so stiff?”
Kitty looked bewildered. “I don’t know. It is only advertisements for other books.” She threw Mrs Bowman a fond glance. “I needed no others, so I never bothered reading that part.”
Charles looked directly at Mr Tweedie. “Do you have your paperknife, sir? The one with the very fine blade.”
He has found something, thought Verity and thrilled at the serious, intent look in his eyes.
Mr Tweedie was suddenly all attorney. “I do indeed. Pass the book over. I wonder, could we clear the table a little? Yes, I think you are correct, Charles. The edges are gummed. An old device, but surprisingly effective.” He paused, penknife suspended in mid-air, looking joyfully boyish. “Goodness me, the last time I did this we discovered the location of a priceless pearl parure inside.”
“You may,” muttered Kitty, “be disappointed.”
Verity grinned at her, then thanked her mother. “Thank you, Mama. That feels very much easier.”
“I should imagine it does. I suppose you will tell me how you sustained it eventually?”
“Later. Look, Mr Tweedie has found something.”
Working the knife delicately, Mr Tweedie separated the final two pages in the book. A thin sheet of paper fluttered out, covered with writing. He retrieved it from the table, adjusted his spectacles and read it aloud. “This appears to be a memorandum, written by Captain Eastwick. It reads: July 1810 - went into Suffolk on a commission for F. I was to extract a single payment (as is his custom and guarantee) of £500 from Mr B to hide Mr B’s part in the hiring and shooting of Mr WL as if by highwaymen in the year 1797.” As he said this, Mr Tweedie’s dry tone faltered and his eyes met those of Verity’s mother. A hand crept to her mouth.
Mr Tweedie returned his attention to the letter. “This is how F works. Money for a secret, paid once and for all time forgotten. Ten guineas for me as the agent, and the favour cancels out a secret he has on me. What else I do is my business, not his, though he frequently discovers it and holds the knowledge against me for a future task. He has spies everywhere. Whilst in Suffolk, I was much taken with Miss B. Her beauty and passion were beyond tempting. Mr B saw the attraction between us and offered £1000 for me in addition to F’s payment if I would marry her & cause it to seem an elopement. To have £1000 plus my ten guineas for F’s commission was a powerful inducement. I had often been paid to vacate the field, but never to marry. The deal was half down, proof to attorney, the remaining money paid on receipt. We were never to return to Newmarket. The lines are with Messrs D&D. I write this to affirm it was a true marriage and the way of it coming about. Signed by my hand... Simon Eastwick.”
Verity looked at Charles. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” said Kitty in a bitter voice, “that he never loved me. He was paid to run away with me so Papa should not have the expense of a wedding. I am so many times a fool.”
“It is more than that,” said Charles. “From some papers we... acquired,” his gaze rested on Verity, “your father’s whole objective was to give your share of your late mother’s settlement to your brother. He evidently thought the loss of a thousand pounds for a marriage bribe a sufficient price to pay for the gain of two. A despicable act in a father.”
“He was a monster.” Verity’s mother spoke for the first time. There were tears in her eyes. “He looked well enough, but he wasn’t charming like your Simon, Kitty. I had no wish to wed him. Once Will died, I didn’t think I had a choice. And now... now I find...” Her voice shook with emotion. She put out a hand and - to Verity’s shock - Mr Tweedie took it.
“Now we find Mr Bowman planned William Lawrence’s death.” Mr Tweedie tapped the first part of the letter. “That’s what this says, that Mr Bowman was being blackmailed for hiring a ruffian to murder Will. He can only have done it to marry Miss Harrington, as she was in those days.”
“But why?” Verity was open-mouthed. “I don’t mean why would anyone want to marry you, Mama, for that is self-evident, but to kill your betrothed so he could marry you... that seems out-of-proportion pig-headed, even for Papa.”
“What he wanted, he got,” said her mother bleakly. “He had decided on me for a second wife. I wasn’t interested. So he removed his rival.”
“You were the most beautiful woman in the county,” said Mr Tweedie. “Anyone would have fallen in love with you. I know I did.”
“Oh George, you are so sweet, but Mr Bowman didn’t love me. He wanted to possess me. He played on my feelings by saying his two children needed a mother, then wouldn’t let me spend time with them when I should have been attending to him. He demanded my compliance and beat me to make his point. After the first time, I was shocked and terrified into obedience. I couldn’t leave him, I had nowhere else to go for my parents would simply have returned me to Kennet End.” She smiled tremulously at Kitty. “And I should have had to leave Kitty behind. I would never have been able to do that.”
Tears were running down Verity’s sister’s cheeks. “And I repaid you by running away.”
“Hush, you were mine for thirteen years, and at the time we thought you were running from Mr Prout. That must have been another of his machinations - to force you to go.”
“I wish Papa had not been my father,” said Verity fiercely.
Mama exchanged a glance with Mr Tweedie. “He wasn’t,” she said composedly.
Verity was not the only person in the room who looked at her in amazement.
“George knows this, but I have never told another soul, though I believe my mother guessed and it was why she married me off so fast. Will and I were very much in love and so young that we knew we had a wondrous happy life in front of us. We anticipated the wedding, as many couples have done before. I can never be sad about that, for it gave me the memory of that joy to sustain me. It gave me the knowledge of how love should be. And you, Verity. It gave me you.”
And while Verity was still reeling - and revelling - in this knowledge, Mr Tweedie polished his spectacles and cleared his throat.
“I believe this might be an appropriate moment to announce that Mrs Bowman has done me the very, very great honour of agreeing to become my wife. I have no confidence in the sort of husband I will make, never having been one before, but I do know that my only object is to make my dear Anne happy for the rest of her life.”
He was looking so anxious, but proud at the same time, that Verity immediately sprung up and embraced her mother. “Oh, Mama, I am so pleased. I said if you married again it should be to someone who adored you and I can see this is the case. My goodness, Julia will be outraged to have missed all this when she and Godmama return.” She then embraced Mr Tweedie for good measure, from which he emerged looking even pinker.
“We are to live in the Kensington villa,” said her mother. “George does not at all object to the longer journey to the Temple. I hope to prevail upon Cook and the others to come with us as I do not think they will want to stay in the dower house with whoever John rents it out to. I am afraid it ruins your plans for Furze House.”
Charles spoke. “Not necessarily. First, may I wish you both every happiness. Secondly, with regard to Furze House, we have often said, have we not, sir, that it would be advantageous to have a base in Newmarket, as we have so many Suffolk clients. I have associates who are willing to take a share in the expenses for the convenience of having somewhere to stay in the town. I also believe, very strongly, that Mrs Eastwick should not remain in London. Until we unravel more of her late husband’s affairs, I cannot deem it safe for her here.” He tapped the memorandum. “This statement shows clearly to me that the ‘F’ Captain Eastwick refers to had reason and more not to trust him in the hands of the magistrates. I believe it is he who had your husband killed, Kitty. You must not go back to Henrietta Street. Nor must you attempt to retrieve any of your possessions. He may well be watching and try to silence you as well, in case you were in your husband’s confidence. My friend who brought you here is to travel to Newmarket for the racing tomorrow. I propose he leaves this very night and takes you and Ann with him. It is the last meeting of the season, so half the ton will be on the Newmarket Road. It will not be thought strange for Nicholas to be among them. Furze House is ready for possession though I cannot answer for the state of it.”
Kitty had grown so pale while Charles was talking that Verity moved across and held her hand. “Then please send him word,” said Kitty. “I do not wish to remain in London. I should like nothing more than to return to Newmarket with Ann and bring her up safely away from all this.” She swallowed. “But Simon had debts, I have no money...”
“His debts died with him,” said Charles. “You are a free woman. As to money, I hope you will not take this amiss, but certainly in the first instance, we will need someone of experience and good character to run Furze House, someone who will be flexible about Verity’s irregular proposal for it as a communal endeavour. Would you consider taking on this role for an annual allowance?”
Kitty’s face lit up. “I would be your housekeeper in effect? Yes - oh a thousand times, yes. If there is one thing I have learnt over the past seven years it is how to make a small budget stretch to unbelievable lengths.”
“It will not be as small as all that,” said Charles.
Verity applauded and hugged her sister, but uppermost in her mind as the others rushed off to assemble travelling bags and raid household equipment was just one question. What of me?
Charles, however, did not seem to be thinking of her at all. He wrote a swift note for his friend, gave it to a footman to deliver, then picked up the memorandum and frowned over it.
“What is it?” She asked in a low voice. “Is it what he writes of ‘F’?” She patted the cushion for Charles to sit next to her.
“Yes.” He looked troubled. “This shows Eastwick was in some way bound to him, not just seven years ago, but also now. I have not forgotten your observation about how he knew of the heiresses. Suppose the information was given to him as one of these ‘secrets’ as he calls them? Such a man has a broad reach. If he is the same one I am thinking of, we have run across mention of him before. He exists in the shadows and as quickly vanishes when we look for him. I hope I did not alarm your sister too much but it is essential she travels tonight and stops for nothing on the way.”
Verity shivered. “I believe she understands the danger, Charles. What of you? Won’t you be a target also?”
“I do not think so. If he had spies inside that God-forsaken hell, they will tell him all Eastwick and I did was to play cards.”
“And me?” asked Verity.
“You,” said Charles, “are not leaving my side. I have no right to ask you, and I do not know how we will manage, but I cannot live without you and I am done with being noble about leaving the field clear for some better man to rescue you from disasters and look after you.” He took her hands. “I want you to know that this is not in any way a rational proposal, Verity. It is not because with our combined incomes we can run a house. It is not because half the militia in London and all of the hackney carriage drivers believe us to be already married and it would be more than I am capable of to enlighten them. It is not even because my senior partner sees nothing untoward in marrying a lady of quality, so there is no reason for me to hold back either.”
A great surge of hope filled Verity. “No?”
“No. It is because I love you to distraction. I do not believe I will ever get another stroke of work done if you do not agree to plague my life on a daily basis and keep me in suspense about whatever madcap scheme you have embroiled us in this time. It is because I cannot let you go. Will you be my wife, Verity?”
Verity’s whole being exploded with joy. “Dearest Charles, of course I will. It is just a little vexing that I will not now be able to use any of the plans I had to compromise us so you had to offer for me, but it will be such an excellent adventure that I shall put the disappointment aside. How soon may we be married, please?”
“With as much dispatch as I can arrange. Meanwhile I will sleep here, I think. I daresay my father’s house is perfectly impregnable, but I shall not sleep unless I know you are safe.”
“And you must tell all to Lord Fitzgilbert, I apprehend. Should we put it about that I am injured, so he accompanies Lilith to visit me on my sickbed?”
“You are injured. You should see a doctor.”
“Sit down. I will allow you to send for a doctor. I will not allow you to let go of my hand. What did Mama mean when she said she and my real father anticipated the marriage?”
Charles smiled in a way that turned her bones to water. “I believe I mentioned that you were not leaving my side, did I not? Later tonight I will come along to your room and show you.”
“And will you finally kiss me properly?”
Charles put an arm around her shoulders and brought her lips to meet his. “Properly, improperly, and all the stages in between.”