Chapter Ten
Eleanor sat at her dressing table and peered at herself in the mirror. She looked older and more tired than she had ever been, lines of worry marring her forehead.
Lucy was back in London and she had spent the evening with her for she’d missed her daughter’s laughter and hugs. She breathed out in worry for Jacob had asked Nicholas to their small family gathering tomorrow night and that definitely posed a problem.
Did Lucy look like him? Could the others possibly see the resemblance that she herself most certainly could? Would her daughter tell him how old she was in a passing conversation and if she did, was that something that he might consider and calculate? ‘Five and nearly three-quarters.’ Children were never vague about their age.
No wonder she had lines on her forehead. Eleanor shut her eyes just to find a quiet that was missing inside every single thought she had.
It was Grandmama’s fault. She had insisted on Nicholas Bartlett being there and for what reason Eleanor could hardly fathom. Something about promising his grandmother that she would watch over her grandson as the older woman was dying.
Eleanor wished her mother could have been standing behind her and running her soft hands across her hair, telling her that everything would work out fine and that worrying was just ‘borrowing trouble’.
But it had not worked out fine at all when Mama had succumbed to the sickness of the lungs so quickly and had gone from them before anyone could even say goodbye.
Borrowing trouble? She inhaled slowly, one breath and then another. It was a trick she had perfected when Nicholas had disappeared and she had found out that she carried his child, when her whole world had shattered at her feet.
The calm came back and her glance fell to the small bracelet sitting beside her mother’s silver brush.
She wished he had kept her token. She shook her head at that thought and wondered if in the six years of apartness she had learnt anything at all.
Nicholas had not kissed her. He had not remembered. Oh, granted he had held her with sensitivity after she had burst into tears, but he had let her go soon enough and gone back to the Bromley town house. With relief, she thought, if she’d read the look in his eyes properly.
She pulled her ring out from the neckline of the nightgown and stroked it.
‘Please, please, God, let him love me.’
A knock at the door made her start and Rose appeared, her long blonde hair tied in a rough knot.
‘I heard you talking and wondered who was in here.’
‘Ghosts,’ Eleanor replied. ‘And deities.’
At that her sister-in-law came in and shut the door behind her to sit down on her bed.
‘You have seemed busy lately? Jacob said you were helping Viscount Bromley retrieve his memory.’
‘Well, it’s not working.’ She knew this sounded petulant, but it was good to speak to someone other than herself on the subject.
‘What do you wish he would remember, Ellie?’
She turned at that to look at her sister-in-law and saw concern in the soft blue eyes.
‘How much do you know of my past, Rose?’
‘Very little, I think. I do understand that you have been lonely for all the time I have known you.’
God, was she meant to be near tears for ever today? She swallowed back hurt.
‘I was never married. Not to the Highland Laird who died from a horse accident nor to the landowner in Edinburgh lost in a storm at sea nor, even, to any man in Scotland.’ There, she had said it, just spat it out into the world for another to hear. Even Jacob and she had never been as honest on the subject. Rose, however, was perfectly pragmatic and blatantly unshocked.
‘Well, it is nobody’s business but your own, Eleanor, and I for one would never judge you.’
At that Eleanor smiled. ‘I know.’
‘And if this lack of a husband has anything to do with Nicholas Bartlett’s disappearance then that is a conversation for the two of you only. But it is one you need to have.’
‘How did you get so very wise?’
‘A lifetime of adversity and hard work. Your brother has a lot to do with it, too. When you love someone beyond all else and they feel the same, every difficulty is lessened. Remember that.’
‘Thank you, Rose.’
‘You are most welcome, Eleanor. And I promise I will not say a word of any of this to Jacob until you say I can.’
* * *
Nick walked along the small alley behind the garden of Vitium et Virtus and imagined his younger self being ambushed here and dragged away. It was strange to have a knowledge of something, but no real memory. Jacob at his side slowed a little.
‘Here.’ He pointed to a spot beneath a spindly hedge. In summer it must have been thicker and greener. ‘We found the blood right at this spot.’
‘The ring we retrieved from over there beside that pile of stones. I had the impression you may have taken it off yourself to leave as a clue for us to find. If whoever did this to you had removed it, I think they would have recognised its value and kept the piece and it would never have surfaced again. Fred, Oliver and I searched the town for you the next day and when you hadn’t turned up we went to Bromworth Manor. Your uncle said he hadn’t seen you in a week.’
‘I imagine he said that with a smile on his face.’
‘If we knew then what we do now, we would have knocked the man’s head off. The Night Watch got involved the following day, but no one had seen anything of you though one of the neighbours was sure he had heard a hackney cab careening in the area at around eleven.
‘A month later we acknowledged the fact that you may be dead although in all the years since we never accepted it.’ Jacob’s frown was heavy. ‘Perhaps we should have looked further afield, Nick, and searched for you in other places outside England.’
Nicholas shook his head. ‘America is a big land and it is a long way from here. It would have taken a miracle to come across me there given I’d no idea of who I was anyway.’
‘I can’t help the feeling, Nick, that you would never have given up on us.’
‘Lives are led, Jacob, and time passes. To rally against all the choices you could have made only leads to melancholy. You did what you could and in my book you did enough. Today is the first day of the New Year. Let’s look forward now instead of back.’
1819... Nicholas only wanted it to be a happy year. He’d wished for bigger things each new year when he was younger. More money. More parties. More women. In America he had never had the inclination for any dreams whatsoever. Now all he wanted was contentment.
And Eleanor. This thought had him breathing faster and he was glad Jacob, at his side, could not divine his thoughts.
The club appeared different in the light it was now in. Less new. More settled into its own skin. Familiar.
‘We have had a good run here, haven’t we? On the boat back from Boston I could see the place in my mind’s eye looking exactly like this.’
‘Rose was working here as a maid when I met her. Did you know that?’
He laughed. ‘Every time one of you tells me something about your unusual women it surprises me.’
‘Nothing is at it seems, Nicholas. You would do well to remember that.’
He did not have the time to dwell on such a cryptic remark because Oliver came down the steps to meet them and then Frederick arrived from the other direction. Both looked happy to see him, a smile on each of their faces, and Nick had the feeling that almost everything was right in his world. Breathing in and out deeply, he walked into the only true home he had ever had since losing his parents.
Inside they repaired to the private drawing room where he had first found them again, a high-stakes game of cards in play. Only six days ago? It seemed like a lot longer. When they were seated and the wine poured Nick brought the meeting to order.
‘I have had word that the person who paid to have me murdered in the Americas was or is a member of this club.’ He brought out the card the ringmaster had given him and laid it down. ‘I was reliably informed that the gentleman who paid for the mark did so in gold and that he spoke like a lord.’
‘You don’t think it’s any of us, do you?’ Oliver asked this, shock in his eyes.
‘Of course not. That’s why I asked you here to help me catch him. If we could make a list of those who have a grudge against the club or even suffered a loss at one of the bigger card games, perhaps we might narrow the list down.’
Frederick answered that question fairly quickly, giving Nick the impression that membership was his domain. ‘We have two hundred fully paid-up members now and a few who have left. But those who are accepted in usually end up staying.’
‘Who have withdrawn?’
‘Only a handful. Lance Grayson for financial reasons. Tony Shelkirk, because his wife insisted upon it. Frank Davis. Keith McNair. Nash Bowles, though he was kicked out.’
Nick’s attention snapped in. Had he never told anyone of the man’s perversion with the maid? ‘Why?’
‘Because he was a slimy perverted degenerate whom we could no longer stomach.’
‘When did this happen?’
Frederick spoke then. ‘About two weeks ago, after an altercation with Oliver.’
Nicholas cursed and was about to explain about encountering Bowles with the maid, when Fred carried on.
‘But if he is on your list of suspects, Nick, there is a big difference between being a degenerate coward and an out-and-out killer. He’s more of a nuisance, I think. Irritating and ineffective. He is also a cousin of Georgiana’s stepmother.’
‘All right. Who else?’
‘David Wilshire. He issued you a death threat when Lady Hannah Goode kissed you in front of him, remember. He thought she had a tendre for him and then took umbrage when you won a large sum of money at cards from him a few hours later.’
‘I met him a few days ago in Bullock’s Museum. He is still unpleasant.’
‘He was always a bit unbalanced at school, I thought. A boy one needed to be careful of.’ Jacob pointed this out as he poured them all some more of the wine.
‘What of your uncle’s friend, Vince Matthews? He promised to see all of us in our graves for our poor behaviour and even wrote us a letter stating it.’ Oliver frowned as he tried to recite exactly what had been in the missive. ‘He said we were heathens who would be punished. He also warned us to watch our backs on dark and lonely nights.’
‘But his was a more general warning to us all. It’s specific threats we need, to Nick in particular.’ Jacob stated this and the others agreed.
* * *
Half an hour later they had a dozen names.
‘The club has a reputation for passion and temper. You have to expect these contretemps for it comes with the territory. It’s like the army where there are always two sides to any argument and everyone wants to have their say.’ When Frederick said this they all laughed. ‘But it is good to be working together, to be sitting here and discussing problems and solving them again.’
Jacob lifted his glass to that and drank. ‘Has there been any word of your guardian, Nicholas, since he left Bromworth Manor?’
‘None. I understand he has gone to the Continent with what he could take of the family money. If he manages to stack away a reasonable amount and not spend it he might be able to stay away for ever. I won’t be chasing him. As far as I am concerned he’s dead and gone.’
‘What of his son? He was a member here, if I recall, although I have not seen him lately.’
‘I caught sight of him a month or so ago in town and he looked as angry as he usually does.’ Oliver gave this reply.
‘He would have the motivation to see you dead. Isn’t he the next in line for the family fortune?’
‘Unless I produce an heir, but it is rumoured that he has followed his father to the Continent.’
The realisation that more than one person wanted him dead made him feel vulnerable and sad. His life here had been fast lived and careless, so fast that he had numerous enemies waiting for their chance to strike.
Did Eleanor know of this animosity? Perhaps she had pulled back from him all those years ago because of it? The waste of living his life on the angry edge of a debauched underbelly made him see for the first time just how cunningly his uncle had encouraged him into such behaviour. His foolish recklessness had allowed Aaron Bartlett to manoeuvre himself into a stronger position financially in the taking of control of his inheritances. Hindsight was a fine thing, but he could barely believe he had not thought of this when he was younger.
‘I don’t believe Bartlett’s son would be a threat anyway. He was always too much of a coward from the start.’
‘Be thankful then for it. You could do with a few spineless adversaries, Nick.’ The humour in Jacob’s words was welcomed.
‘Well, whoever it is will show their hand again and now that I have a better idea of who my opponent might be I will be ready for them.’
‘We will all be ready for them.’ Frederick laid down his hand and the others followed.
‘In vitium et virtus.’
Nick only hoped it would be virtue that might win out.