Chapter 28
May 17-18, 1814
Francesca sat at her dressing table, the box containing the Hartford jewels open before her. She touched each priceless piece, gazing into the glittering depths of the gems and holding them against her cheek. Beautifully crafted gold, flawlessly cut diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, amethysts, warm and luminous pearls; all were here, and they belonged to her. It was more difficult for Francesca to part with these treasures than any human being. Promising that they would soon be back safely in her care, she reluctantly closed the box, locked it, and returned the key to its hiding place.
Francesca had mixed emotions about giving the jewels to David, even for a day. She had made the suggestion so that he would feel more secure and believe that they truly were operating as partners in this scheme. In fact, David could scarcely have been more in the dark, and Francesca intended that he stay there. Her real reason for sending him to Belle Maison had more to do with keeping him well out of the way during her meeting with Grey than with any notion that David’s “wooing” might induce Natalya Beauvisage to forget his quite unforgettable brother. Of course, Francesca’s schemes invariably were multilayered, and this was no exception. Grudgingly realistic, she had to consider the possibility that her own plan for tomorrow evening’s assignation with Grey might go awry, in which case she would be glad that the jewels were hidden outside of this house.
“Ah, there you are, my love,” David said as he entered Francesca’s bedchamber. Coming up behind her, he bent to press a kiss to the nape of her neck. “If possible, you are even more stunning than when last we met. That shade of green is infinitely becoming, and those ropes of pearls are perfect accessories, even if I did give them to you myself.”
Smelling liquor on his breath, Francesca forced a smile. “It’s lovely to see you, too, dear.” She gestured toward the carved box. “I’ve prepared the jewels for you to keep in your rooms. Since Grey has no idea that you are alive, let alone in Philadelphia, that should be the safest place.”
David St. James wore a preoccupied expression as he sat on the edge of the curtained bed and pushed his spectacles up on his nose. “I’ve seen my brother.”
“You’ve—what?” Francesca’s heart began to race and her face went pale. “What the devil do you mean? You haven’t spoken to him? You couldn’t be that stupid!”
He blinked, momentarily taken aback by her venomous tone. “I say, darling, sheathe your claws. Have you forgotten that you love me?”
“Don’t play with me, David,” she ground out between perfect white teeth. “I’m much better at it than you, and I’ll always win in the end.”
“See here, there’s no cause for threats. I’ve done nothing wrong.” David leaned back instinctively, alarmed by the light in her eyes. “I saw Grey from my carriage, on my way here. He was walking north on Third Street in the company of a very odd-looking little man.”
“What sort of odd-looking little man?” she demanded impatiently.
“How should I know? A Quaker, I suppose, or whatever they call ’em.” He got up to pour himself a brandy. “Queer little fellow wearing oversize clothes and a big black hat. Walked and laughed like a girl. Can’t imagine why Grey would be in the company of such a bizarre—”
“It was that insufferable spinster!” cried Francesca.
“Eh?” He turned from the cellaret, looking thoroughly perplexed. “You didn’t tell me the wench goes in for men’s clothing. Deuce take it, what’s happened to Grey’s taste in females? And I hope you don’t actually still expect me to pretend to romance someone wearing breeches and a Quaker hat, because I really must protest—”
“Oh, David, do be quiet!” She had begun to pace, making a conscious effort to calm herself. David might be obtuse, but even so it wouldn’t do to mishandle him. “I don’t know for certain that it was Natalya Beauvisage, I’m just guessing. Perhaps she was in disguise to protect herself from my eyes. Grey is just devious enough to think of such a thing, and if he did, it means that matters have gone farther than I feared. You really mustn’t lose any more time, David. You’ll have to visit Miss Beauvisage tomorrow.”
“What? Do you intend that I simply turn up on her doorstep, introduce myself, and demand that she fall in love with me?”
She stopped beside him and slipped her arms around him, kissing an especially sensitive spot below his left ear. “Darling, I cannot get Grey out of our lives without your help. Do, please, try to cooperate....”
“ All right. Of course.” As always, David felt himself melting as she carefully applied her lips and fingers.
“Now, do you really think that I would send you off without a plan? I have enlisted the help of Miss Beauvisage’s maid, Charlotte Timkins, who will take your message to Belle Maison and vouch for your character, good looks, pleasing personality, and all the rest. She’ll say that she knew of you in England.”
“And what reason shall I give for this visit?” David managed to inquire as Francesca drew off his coat and began to untie his cravat.
“I think that a daringly romantic approach would be most effective.” She opened his shirt, loosed her breasts, and rubbed against him, the long pearl necklaces pressed between their bodies. In a husky voice she continued, “Charm her first with your manners and breeding. Take wine to her and see that she drinks it. Then, when she is lulled into pleasant complacency, you will become more ardent—eloquently passionate, expressing your admiration for her ridiculous book and declaring that you fell deeply in love with her as you read it.”
He was guiding her toward the bed, fumbling with the fastenings at the back of her gown. “You’re brilliant, as always, my goddess, but what if my declaration of love does not draw the desired response from Miss Beauvisage?”
“Then, you will become a bit more forceful,” Francesca replied, first kissing and then biting his mouth. “We cannot spare the time for a drawn-out seduction. You must compromise that creature immediately, and Charlotte will appear to witness the event. Loyal, of course, to her true master, she will go to Grey and report Miss Beauvisage’s indiscretion.”
David could scarcely think as Francesca pulled at his trousers with one hand and found his aching member with the other. “I don’t mean to be difficult, but it occurs to me that there’s a devilish lot that could go wrong. What if Charlotte recognizes me and sounds an alarm? Or what if—”
“Don’t be a bore, darling.” She removed her hand from his crotch and rose up on an elbow to stare down at him, her green eyes slanting upward at the corners. “That silly maid hasn’t seen you for years, and you’ve changed far too much. Besides, she thinks you’re dead, too. And furthermore, she is loyal to me. She thinks Grey and that wench are quite beastly, she’s happy to be needed again, and happier still to be well paid for her efforts. Just take the jewels to your rooms, hide them, and appear at Belle Maison tomorrow at five o’clock. Do as I tell you and leave the thinking to me. Everything will be just fine!”
David gazed at her breasts, which were mere inches from his face, dragged her hand back to his groin, and nodded. “I am your humble servant, madame. In any event, what’ve I to lose? My life, perhaps, but I’m not altogether certain it’s of much value.” Pulling her into his arms, he muttered, “Seize the moment, hmm?”
“An excellent philosophy,” Francesca agreed, trying not to smile as her husband’s brother kissed her ravenously. With any luck, this would be the last time she’d have to endure his ardent pawing....
* * *
The forenoon was too sumptuous to resist, Natalya decided as she closed the cottage door and looked around the garden. The tulips and daffodils were fading, but pink and white peonies were opening to take their place. Delicate lilies of the valley clustered in shady spots, and there were borders of forget-me-nots, tufted pansies, and primroses in full, glorious bloom.
Breathing in the perfumed air, Natalya told herself that she could not be expected to write on a day like this. Everything seemed changed now that she was able to let her love for Grey sing over her nerves, her heart, her mind, knowing that he felt the same. It was as if there were an invisible link binding their souls even when they were apart. Never had she known such joy; it filled her and made her want to laugh aloud. Now, more than anything, she longed to call for her horse and ride into Philadelphia, but Grey had insisted that she remain here until his meeting with Francesca was over. Once he had recovered the jewels and settled the issue of ending their marriage, he had told Natalya, they could be together openly.
She dropped onto a carved stone bench under the plum tree, smoothed her white muslin skirts, and turned her face up to the sun. It was possible, she had discovered, to amuse herself endlessly by recalling each moment she and Grey had spent together since their meeting in France. It made her smile now to think of them struggling in the alcove at Chateau du Soleil while Grey pressed a dirk between her breasts. How he had excited her, despite her rage, even then!
Last night had been sublime. Their time with her grandmother and Barton Saunders was merry, since all four were under the spell of romance. Grandmama had served a warm loaf of Russian rye bread, made from her own mother’s recipe, with sliced ham, white cheese, and rosy ripe peaches. Learning that Antonia had left Russia in her youth, Grey quizzed her about her homeland, charming her thoroughly.
It was dark when Natalya and Grey rose to bid Antonia and Barton good night. When she discovered that they had walked to her house, Antonia insisted that they borrow her landau so that Grey could escort her granddaughter back to Belle Maison quickly and conveniently.
Under the light of a full moon, they drove slowly through Society Hill, turning onto Chestnut Street so that Natalya could point out the State House, where the Continental Congress had adopted the Declaration of Independence. Crossing Sixth Street, they next beheld the Congress Hall and Philadelphia’s first truly impressive theater. The high Palladian window in the center of the Chestnut Street Theatre was ablaze with the light from chandeliers as people entered for that evening’s performance of a light opera called The Sailor’s Return. A boy with an oyster barrow lingered under the corner gaslight, and nearby stood a frail-looking girl selling violets. The richly garbed playgoers ignored her, but Grey bade their driver stop. He jumped down to the flagged pavement and paid a grand sum for two nosegays.
“Go home to bed, little one,” he commanded, bestowing a smile upon the urchin, “and tomorrow use this money to buy good food, a hot bath, and a proper gown.”
“Aye, sir, I will,” she mumbled, dumbfounded.
Back in the landau, he handed the violets to Natalya. “One bunch is for you, love, and the other is for your charming sister. Tell her I am sorry for the way I behaved at the garden party, and that I shall personally beg her pardon when next we meet.”
Natalya’s heart ached with love as she pressed the tiny, fragrant flowers to her nose and stole a glance at his moon-silvered profile. Distraction soon appeared, however, in the form of the Pump House, a luminous white building with a round tower in the middle. It was located in High Street’s huge Centre Square, which had been fenced in and landscaped.
“So that is your famous Waterworks!” Grey exclaimed. “An amazing achievement.”
“It is, isn’t it,” she agreed. “The water flows through a conduit from the Schuylkill, then a steam engine pumps it to huge tanks in the upper story here. From this Pump House, the water travels through wooden pipes to homes and hydrants all across Philadelphia.”
“All of Europe would be agog,” he remarked.
Sitting now on the garden bench, her eyes closed against the sunlight, Natalya smiled as she relived the moment. She loved Grey’s keen intelligence and curiosity. He no longer pretended to be cynical or bored but seemed rather to attack life with humor and a singular flair that she found intensely appealing. She drew in her breath at the memory of their parting the night before.
When the landau had drawn up in front of Belle Maison, Grey pressed her onto the narrow, velvet-upholstered seat and pretended to ravish her. His starlit face had been cheerfully wicked as he loomed above her, white teeth agleam, then swooped down to demand kisses that took her breath away. Their joyous love seemed a tangible thing, alive between them in the cool night air. When at last he let her up and escorted her from the carriage to the front door, he’d held her gently, almost reverently, caressing her back as they’d exchanged bittersweet kisses of parting.
“Be patient,” he had whispered, “until tomorrow night. I will come to you then, after the other business is finished.” Pressing his lips to the delicate pulse point at the base of her neck, he’d murmured, “I love you, Natalya... with all my heart.”
The sun was warm now on her muslin bodice, and Natalya felt her nipples tighten in response to the memory of his touch. Tonight seemed impossibly distant. How could she wait so many hours?
“Mistress Natalya?” Charlotte’s voice seemed to come from faraway. “Are you sleeping?”
Opening her eyes with an effort, Natalya smiled dreamily. “Perhaps a little. What is it, Charlotte?”
“I have a letter for you, from a lovely English gentleman I met at a bookshop yesterday,” she recited woodenly, her cheeks crimson. “He had your book, mistress, and asked the shopkeeper how he might meet you. It was bold of me, I know, but I went up to him and said that I was in your employ, and we chatted for a bit. Such a nice man, very elegant and cultured, and quite taken with you after reading My Lady’s Heart. I discovered that he was an old friend of the earl’s second son, David. I couldn’t recommend him more highly, mistress! He said that he might send you a letter, and begged me deliver it. It’s just arrived.” Relieved to come to the end of her speech, Charlotte held out the missive.
Natalya shaded her eyes against the sunlight and looked curiously at her maid. “Are you quite well, Charlotte? You seem to be rather... nervous.”
“Nervous?” Her face felt as if it were on fire. “I—I think I may be catching a chill, actually.” Pressing the letter into Natalya’s hands, she added, “I’d better go inside and put on a shawl.”
She watched the girl dash clumsily through the maze of garden paths, then shook her head and broke the seal on the letter. It read:
My dear Miss Beauvisage,
Pray excuse my audacity; I am aware that you are quite above my touch, but I cannot resist daring to hope that you may receive me. I am an ardent admirer of your writing gifts, as well as a visitor in your fair city, and it would be the crowning moment of my sojourn in America if I could return to England having spent a few minutes in your esteemed presence.
I shall be near your home this afternoon and will call at approximately four o’clock. Might I hope for a cup of tea and your inscription in my copy of My Lady’s Heart? Begging your indulgence, I remain,
Your humble admirer,
David Standish
It seemed very odd to Natalya. How could this Mr. Standish make such a fuss over someone he had never met? Was this what celebrity meant? She might suspect him of some sort of romantic delusions, but he sounded respectful—and Charlotte’s recommendation could not have been more glowing.
What swayed her in the end was the realization that Mr. Standish’s visit would help to fill the hours until she could be with Grey. She was also intrigued by Charlotte’s reference to the man’s friendship with David St. James. Perhaps he could tell her more about Grey’s family.
Hyla had gone with Natalya’s parents to Connecticut, but the elderly cook’s best kitchen maid, Lydia, had remained behind, and she fixed a lovely afternoon meal for the two sisters to share on a little table in the garden. Natalya was bursting to tell Kristin about Grey, but she wanted to wait until the problem of Francesca was behind them. She had even put the other nosegay of violets in water, planning to deliver them when she broke the news to Krissie in the morning.
“The most mysterious thing has happened!” the younger girl exclaimed as she produced an envelope to show her sister. Kristin’s name was written on the outside in a flowery scrawl. “Someone has sent me two tickets for tonight’s performance of The Sailor’s Return. This is not Hollis’s writing, so I suspect that they are a gift from his aunt, with whom we are dining tomorrow evening. I know you must feel that I am never at home anymore, and I feel terribly rude leaving you each night while Maman and Papa are away, but I hope you will understand....”
“Oh, Krissie,” Natalya assured her, “I couldn’t be more pleased for you—and Hollis. As it happens, my own life has been rather eventful of late, so I haven’t been languishing here in your absence. And nothing could make me happier than knowing that your courtship with Hollis is progressing so well.”
“I’ll own that I am quite surprised myself, but I feel a sort of warm contentment when we are together. It’s nothing like I imagined I would feel....” Kristin smiled shyly and took a sip of lemonade. “I expected to be swept off my feet by someone dashing and handsome, yet this seems more real somehow. It’s very sweet; a quiet sort of romance, with an understanding between us that deepens each day.” After a brief pause, she glanced down at her plate and added, “I must confess, too, that I feel attracted to him now in a way I never would have believed possible. When he touches me and we kiss, it’s simply wonderful!”
Natalya beamed. “I don’t mean to speak too soon, Krissie, but I believe that Hollis Gladstone is the perfect man for you.”
“I think you may be right, Talya. Now, you must tell me what has been happening to you!”
“I—am not free to speak, yet, but tomorrow I should be able to tell you....”
“It’s Grey St. James, isn’t it?” Kristin crowed. The sight of Natalya’s answering blush made her laugh. “You needn’t respond; I can see it in your face. How thrilling! But of course, I knew all along how you felt about him.”
“How can you say that?” her sister cried in outrage. “You were chasing after him yourself, mooning over him!”
“Oh, I was just having a bit of fun. I was only a child then.”
“Krissie, the Hampshires’ garden party was only three days ago!” Natalya exclaimed.
Rising gracefully from the table, Kristin replied, with infinite wisdom, “Perhaps, but that is the way of life. Three days ago I was a girl, and now I am transformed.”
Natalya would have laughed if she hadn’t seen the truth in her sister’s words. She herself felt as if she had lived years in the past few days. “Yes, what you say may very well be true. And now, off with you, puss! I’m sure you have a thousand things to do to prepare for your evening at the theater. I, on the other hand, have nothing more to anticipate than a visit from a man who is an admirer of my books. He wrote to me and begged for an audience.” She made an uncertain little moue.
“But, is that wise?” Kristin asked, with an air of mature concern. “What if this man is a toad? Papa is gone, and Pierre with him—and the other servants are just boys.”
“Charlotte met this fellow in a bookshop and knew of him in England. She insists that he’s perfectly respectable; in fact, she could not praise him highly enough. All I have to do is give him tea and write my name in his copy of My Lady’s Heart, then send him on his way.” Seeing that her sister still looked uncertain, Natalya added, “If it will make you feel better, you can meet him yourself before you go out.”
* * *
Natalya had hoped that Charlotte might be prevailed upon to serve tea during David Standish’s visit, then pop in and out while he was there to lend an air of propriety to the interview. However, when she made this suggestion to Charlotte, the girl began to stutter.
“Oh—well—mistress, I don’t think so... that is, I’m not certain—I mean, I’m not feeling well!” She had just finished fastening the back of Natalya’s demure white gown with heather ribbons and was reaching for the white lawn tucker that would conceal her bosom. “I’ve—I’ve a fierce pain in my belly.”
“Oh, my!” Natalya said, looking over her shoulder at Charlotte with a mixture of concern and bewilderment. The girl had always been a bundle of nerves, but today her behavior was exceptionally hectic. “Why aren’t you in bed, Charlotte? If you are ill—”
“It’s just gotten worse, mistress, during these past minutes.”
In truth, Charlotte reflected nervously, she had been given specific instructions by Lady Altburne to stay well out of the way during Mr. Standish’s visit to Belle Maison, and she was glad to obey. She had hated to lie to her mistress about everything, especially when she spoke so kindly and was so concerned. But her ladyship had told her it was necessary... and her ladyship had paid her a great deal of money and even promised to take her on later as foremost ladies’ maid—and it seemed impossible that her ladyship would lie....
“If you don’t mind, then, mistress,” Charlotte murmured, “I do believe I’ll go and have a little lie-down.” Averting her eyes guiltily, she sidled toward the door.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes’m?”
Natalya smiled and said gently, “I do hope you feel better.”
Her face flamed. “Oh, I shall. ’Twas doubtless something I ate.”
“If you do recover before long... perhaps you might look in on Mr. Standish and me. I’m certain that he is a fine gentleman, but my sister will be out, and I do feel a bit uneasy about being alone with him.”
Charlotte nodded, bolted from Natalya’s bedchamber, and fairly tumbled down the back stairway to the main floor. As she crossed through the dining room, she heard a knock at the front door and glimpsed, through the window, a carriage in the drive. Kristin Beauvisage, dressed to go out, hurried down the center staircase to open the door, so Charlotte slipped out into the garden. She wanted nothing more than to reach her sunny little room in the servants’ quarters behind the kitchen, but a lackey whom she recognized from Lady Altburne’s house was coming toward her from the drive.
“Charlotte Timkins?” he inquired in a low voice, glancing around furtively. When she nodded, he produced an envelope from his waistcoat pocket. “Ye’re to read this without delay.” He seemed to disappear into thin air, and Charlotte felt her heart begin to pound as she stared at the envelope. Clutching it, she ran all the way to her room, nearly tripping en route over a grapevine, which would have sent her face-first into a cluster of rose bushes. At last, seated safely on her neat, narrow bed, she opened the envelope and saw more money inside. Next to it was a note penned in a familiar, swirling hand:
My dear Charlotte,
I have one other tiny favor to ask of you, so that we may be certain nothing can go amiss. After Miss Beauvisage’s visitor arrives, do please wait in the back of the house in case you hear any commotion, or hear her cry out. Mr. Standish has come to compromise her, thereby ending the adulterous affair between her and my husband. A messy business, I realize, but the only solution where right may prevail in the end. When you see that this has been accomplished, you must go to Lord Altburne, remind him that you are ultimately loyal to him, and tell him what you have seen.
Also, dear Charlotte, if you imagine that you recognize Mr. Standish, say nothing. You must trust me.
There was no signature, but none was needed. Charlotte’s head throbbed and she burst into tears.
* * *
Smiling politely, Kristin ushered Natalya’s caller into the center stair hall. She had sent a young housemaid to fetch her sister and was now uncertain how to proceed.
“I understand that you are English, Mr. Standish?”
“That is correct.” David squinted slightly, having taken off his spectacles so that he might affect a quizzing-glass instead. His high, starched collarpoints grazed his chin, and he wore a cravat tied with extreme intricacy. Producing his quizzing-glass with a flourish, he peered through it at Kristin, who was clad in a lovely evening dress consisting of a British net frock over a blue satin slip. It was cut low around her breasts, and she drew her shawl closer to her body in response to his appreciative gaze.
“I am a great admirer of your sister’s writing talents,” David went on, drawing out My Lady’s Heart from under his coat. “She has a singular gift, but clearly God has blessed you with extraordinary beauty!”
Kristin took a step backward. Her carriage was waiting and she was already late, but she deplored the idea of leaving Natalya alone with this person. She was about to tell him that her sister was too ill to see him when Natalya herself appeared on the staircase.
“Mr. Standish?” she inquired, descending quickly with a smile of greeting. “I am Natalya Beauvisage. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Ah!” David exclaimed as he took her hand at the foot of the stairs. “I see that I have been hasty in my judgment. God has blessed you not only with artistic talent, but also with beauty as breathtaking as your sister’s!”
Rodney had left the carriage and appeared now at the door. “Are you ready to depart, miss?”
Kristin glanced despairingly toward Natalya. “I could change my plans....”
“Nonsense,” she pronounced. “Mr. Standish and I are just going to have a cup of tea and then I’ll write for the rest of the evening. I’ll see you when you return later.”
Kristin bade them a reluctant good-bye and preceded Rodney to the carriage, barely noticing as he helped her in. As they started off down the sweeping drive, she sat back and tried to dismiss the unsettling feeling in her stomach. Perhaps she had only imagined that David Standish had a faint scent of evil.