CHAPTER ELEVEN
Somerset House was very grand and very chilly. Verity drew her pelisse more closely about her as they slowly traversed the first wall of the exhibition. “You are looking beautifully bored, Charles,” she commented after a minute or so. “Well done.”
“Save your praise for when I attempt something difficult,” he replied drily. “I have rarely seen a more insipid set of portraits.”
“But many of them are of people we know,” protested Julia on his other side. “I like them enormously. It’s amusing finding out what the ton consider to be the best costumes for portraits.” She moved away to inspect a particularly large specimen.
“I confess I find the artistic merits of satin versus Brussels lace tedious,” said Verity. “I prefer to look at the visitors. Why are there so many people here? They cannot all have nothing else to do, surely?”
“This is a new collection,” said Lilith, sounding amused as she crossed the room to greet them. “People are here to be seen. Good afternoon, Verity. Good afternoon, Mr Congreve. Yes, you may well look surprised at seeing both of us. My stepmother has a gentleman in to discuss ‘improvements’ she wishes to make to the orangery, so I have brought Benedict out to save him from the hangman’s noose.”
The two men nodded to each other in a well-bred, long-suffering manner and fell behind as Lilith linked her arm in Verity’s.
“Do you really come here for pleasure?” asked Verity.
“Frequently,” said Lilith. She glanced behind. “Benedict, however, does not. I am intrigued to know how a word from you summoned him out when I have been unable to persuade him to accompany me to a gallery these several years.”
“It is not me who is the attraction, but Charles,” said Verity. She paused in front of a soulful lady who had been painted against a background of a choppy sea and Grecian ruins. “They have some sort of altruistic clandestine dealings which the polite world is not to know about, did you not realise? Hence his present portrayal of a conscientious attorney desperate for someone of intelligence to talk to. What does this signify, please? The poor woman looks frozen.”
“The ruins show the lady’s classical leanings, and the sea indicates that her family made their money through trade. How very mysterious. I have long known my brother has interests that occasionally take him away, even beyond the natural desire to avoid my stepmother’s environs at frequent intervals, but I didn’t know what it was. Poor Benedict. He is far too much of a slave to convention for his own comfort. I wish he could fix on a lady who is as politically minded as himself and marry her. He could then set stepmama up in her own villa without incurring the censure of my aunt and her circle, and we would all of us be much happier.”
“Suppose you took your brother’s new wife in dislike? It would be uncomfortable sharing a house, surely?”
“Not at all. I have managed to share with stepmama for five years without coming to blows. The trick is to agree to everything, then efface oneself and continue to do things in your own fashion, except I would no longer need to play the perfect hostess for Ben and could concentrate on my studies. Irritatingly, he has no need to marry for money, which would at least make him work at a relationship, and he is so intelligent that he is bored by all the chattering young ladies who contrive to be thrust under his nose by their mothers.”
Verity moved on to the next portrait, one that Julia was already conning with far more interest than she herself considered the subject warranted. “These people are not at all true to life,” she observed. “Everyone is rosy with health and beautifully dressed.”
“This is because painters must eat,” said Lilith with practical good sense. “No one is going to commission an artist to create an unflattering image of themselves. For that you must visit the print shops.”
Charles and Lord Fitzgilbert strolled up to them. “I see you have found something worth studying, Julia,” said Charles.
“Yes indeed,” said Julia. “I am trying to make out whether Mrs Hesketh is wearing the real Hesketh Emerald here, or whether it is a paste copy.”
Verity made an impatient noise. “Julia, you cannot tell that from a painting! Any such indication is more due to the skill of the artist than the quality of Mrs Hesketh’s necklace.”
Benedict Fitzgilbert gave an amused snort. “Miss Bowman is correct, but the jewel is paste for all that,” he said. “The real emerald has done its family duty by shoring up Hesketh Castle and buying the eldest son a passage to New York, that he may hook himself an American heiress.”
Julia straightened up. “Ah, thank you. That was what I had heard, but it is nice to have confirmation. Her wearing it is either bravado or pretence, then. Thank you so much for suggesting this, Lilith. I had no notion portraits could tell us so much about character.”
“And that is today’s knowledge assimilated,” said Verity. “What is through that arch? More portraits or something livelier?”
“Landscapes, I believe, with the odd battle at sea. Would you prefer them?”
Verity looked around in dissatisfaction. “I would prefer something that was painted from the heart. Something like your sketches, Lilith. This is simply men showing off their wealth and importance by arraying themselves and their wives in costly fabrics and jewels. They are covering up the cracks in their lives with deception.”
“You may make Admiral Harrington’s legacy over to Miss Bowman at once, Congreve,” said Lord Fitzgilbert. “That is the most rational evaluation of the collection I’ve heard since I entered this benighted room.”
“Would that I could. Sadly, the estate requires hard proof, not mere sentiment. The Harrington family is breathing down my neck, just waiting for the slightest irregularity to challenge the will.”
“My commiserations.”
“They will be satisfied by our performance today,” said Verity, “even though you have led me wrong, Lilith. My uncle would not at all consider this a sensible use of my time. Unless the other room proves to be full of sea battles that I may learn something of history from, I think I would have preferred Bullock’s Museum, which was a favourite of his.”
“I doubt you would have got my brother to Bullock’s,” murmured Lilith under her breath. “You forget, this exhibition is serving a dual purpose,” she went on aloud. “You are also establishing yourself in society while you admire the skill of the artist. Everybody who is anybody is here.”
“Indeed,” replied Julia, “and some of the visitors are more interesting than others.” Her eyes rested speculatively on a group of red coats that had just entered the gallery.
Verity saw Charles stiffen. “Do you know everyone, Julia?” she asked hastily. “Who is the supercilious man by the door to the next room? The one in the elegant blue coat. I saw him at Bow Street. The clerks were so deferential it would have set my teeth on edge had it been directed at me, but he accepted it as his due and strolled out. I was never less taken with anyone.”
“Who do you mean? Oh, I see him. That is Sir Philip Munro. He has ten thousand a year and a house in Soho Square. One meets him in many places.”
“Why then is he a person of importance in Bow Street?” asked Verity.
“Because he is a gentleman thief-taker,” said Lilith’s brother. “He makes a great deal of ridding the streets of the criminal menace.”
Julia frowned at him, evidently picking up the flatness in his voice. “So I understood. That is good, isn’t it?”
“It would be if he not did puff off his own consequence so much by ostentatiously saying it was nothing. I would be more impressed if he brought in more of the rich thieves and fewer of the poor penniless embezzlers.”
“All of the glory, none of the substance,” murmured Charles. “Which is doubtless very unfair of me. I have no personal knowledge of the man.”
“He has looked this way once or twice,” said Verity. “I daresay he knows you by sight if you are often in Bow Street and wonders what you are doing here. Would you like me to be loud and effusive as we go past?”
“It is entirely your own decision,” said Charles, looking even more bored and raising his voice slightly as they left the others behind and walked through the arch. “What were your uncle’s opinions on the portrayal of sea battles? Did he consider them of educational value to the general populace?”
“Oh, assuredly, though he was inclined to be critical of the poor artists. I remember one time he spent quite half-an-hour in front of a large canvas pointing out that from the set of the sails on the ships in the painting, the wind appeared to be blowing from several different directions at once.”
There was only the slightest tremor in Charles’s tone as he replied that no doubt the painter had not enjoyed the same degree of familiarity with the open ocean as the late admiral.
The circuit of the inner room was swiftly accomplished and they emerged again to find Julia paying court to her knot of officers. The group had been joined by various matrons and daughters whom Verity vaguely recognised, but as before, Julia was talking most animatedly to Lieutenant Crisp.
“Have you seen everything you require, Julia?” asked Charles. “I am loathe to disappoint your friends, but I have an appointment I must not miss.”
“I would be happy to escort Miss Congreve home if she wishes to stay longer,” said Lieutenant Crisp earnestly.
“And we would be happy to accompany him to ensure propriety,” drawled Lieutenant Neville.
“That does not sound so very proper,” said Verity. “Are you enjoying the paintings? Do you know much about art?”
Lieutenant Neville’s lazy gaze assessed and dismissed her.
Verity felt Charles’s forearm muscles bunch under her hand. “I believe we must all be going,” he said. “Do pray stay and enjoy the collection, gentlemen. You seem to have remarkable amounts of leisure for officers of His Majesty’s army. I am delighted to see you putting it towards an appreciation of culture.”
Lieutenant Crisp blinked at him, clearly not following the exchange.
Julia patted his arm kindly. “Perhaps you could take Miss Everett around the paintings. She is so slight, I am worried she will become caught in the crush. I daresay I will see you at the rout next week. Charles, do wait until I have taken leave of Lilith. I shall not be above a minute.”
She darted off. Lieutenant Crisp crossed obediently to a slender brunette hanging on to her mother’s arm. Lieutenant Neville watched Julia for a moment, then made some low-voiced comment to his companions who stifled their amusement.
Charles’s eyes, however, were still on Lieutenant Crisp. “I swear, Verity, if Julia runs off with that stripling, I will not rest until I have fetched her back.”
“She will not, though I can see you doing exactly that,” said Verity. She creased her brow. “I have often wondered why my father would not go after Kitty and Captain Eastwick when they eloped. He rode roughshod over everything else. Every plan he made had to be carried out to the letter. Why would he not drag Kitty back to marry Mr Prout when the match was his own arrangement? It makes no sense.”
“Mr Prout?”
“Mr Prout is a Newmarket gentleman with a small estate. Papa was most insistent on the match. They had dealings at the time, I remember. I believe Papa sold him a horse. Or Mr Prout sold Papa a dog. I don’t recall the details. He had many such acquaintance.”
“I am ready,” said Julia, returning. “That was a most instructive afternoon. Thank you so much for suggesting it, Verity. I cannot remember when I have enjoyed anything more, having started with such low expectations. Shall we go?”
On the way back, Charles let Verity’s and Julia’s chatter wash over him as he thought about the brief conversation he’d had with Fitz while both were striving to look as if they were mere nodding acquaintances.
“Interesting,” Fitz had said on being given a summary of Verity’s adventures. “I agree with you. A word with this Molly Turner could be advantageous. An assignment for Nicholas, I think. He will be back tomorrow. If you start hanging around the theatres yourself, it could arouse suspicion in many undesirable quarters.”
“Indeed, and if you do, it will arouse even more. Nick, however, already has something of a reputation in that direction. Will you send him word?”
“I will. You concentrate on playing the conscientious attorney.”
“Fitz, I am a conscientious attorney, and one who will have to work tonight to make up the time spent on this afternoon’s charade. I apologise, by the way, for letting Verity know about us, but she had already guessed and as it turns out, her friendship with your sister is useful.”
His friend shrugged. “Lilith is loyal and discreet. If you have no objection, she and Miss Bowman could form a useful line of communication.”
“It seems to me to have already been established.” Charles let his eyes rest on Verity’s animated profile as she turned to ask something of Miss Fitzgilbert. “This latest development shows promise, though I could wish Verity was not involved. A conversation with Mrs Eastwick regarding ‘Sim’s fancies’ might prove interesting, don’t you think? Sadly, I do not see how I can be in Grosvenor Street the whole day waiting for her to call. I received all manner of curious looks in the haberdashery shop this morning as it was.”
“No matter. The information may come from Mrs Turner.”
“Or even from Verity herself. I swear these women pull information out of the air. Only collect two of them together and you have the secrets of three ducal houses laid bare in the same time that you and I could play a hand of piquet.”
“It’s a thought, Charles.”
“No. No it isn’t. We have both seen the bodies, Fitz.”
Now he left Verity and his sister in Grosvenor Street and proceeded to the Temple on foot, walking fast to shake the fidgets out of his body. In truth, he was not sorry to be on his own. He would have preferred to have had a clear day altogether before being in Verity’s company again. That moment yesterday when she’d given him no more than a sisterly kiss...
He walked faster, rounding other pedestrians and the small knots of urchins who were everywhere on the streets. It was of no use him forming an attachment to Verity. He was a working attorney. He would not be able to give any woman a home for the next several years, much less the daughter of a gentleman who had been brought up with servants and space around her and a comfortable house. A voice in his head pointed out that he was a gentleman’s son and that the rent on a set of rooms in the Albany was comparable with a small apartment in Islington say, or a little further west. He told the voice to be quiet and turned into Middle Temple Lane almost at a run.
A soothing perusal of boundary clauses and the precise definition of a client’s tenancy agreement did much to rid him of the sensation of a wasted afternoon, even if it failed to alleviate the disparity in his consciousness between a gentleman of means and a gentleman with no expectations whatsoever. He succeeded in writing several firm letters and sent them off with the clerk to the mail before he was informed that Scrivener was waiting to see him, should it be convenient.
“Regarding Captain Eastwick,” began Scrivener. “I collect Miss Bowman has now made contact with her sister.”
“She has, as have I this morning, but I should like to know more about the man himself.”
“I apprehended as much. His business dealings seem to mainly consist of moving money from one place to another, though little of it remains in his own pocket. A sight of his bank book shows occasional large sums deposited, coinciding with a period out of town, otherwise he lives from day to day, buying and selling around the docks and visiting discreet houses in Bloomsbury and Upper Church Street and rather less discreet ones in Hart Street, Drury Lane and the Haymarket. He also visits various gambling hells from Covent Garden to Shadwell. I have made a list of the addresses.”
Charles looked at the paper Scrivener placed in front of him. “I wonder he finds the time. Does he frequent the tables in all these places?”
“He is of certainty a hardened gambler, but he appears selective in what and where he plays. At cards he generally wins. At dice he almost always loses. I have marked the establishments where he stays longest.”
“He visits, but does not always stay? The inference being that in some places he collects money, others he takes part in the play. Shadwell...” He raised his eyebrows. “I daresay the insalubrious location adds extra spice to the gentlemen who come to gamble there.”
“The ones who can afford to lose, yes. I understand the number of young men who take their own lives shortly after playing cards with Captain Eastwick is not insignificant,” said Scrivener.
Another frisson of distaste rippled through Charles. “Not only a card-sharp, but a murderer by extension. And according to his wife, caring for no one but himself, God rot him. Is there more to be found out? What is your next line of enquiry?”
The man on the other side of the desk hesitated. “Naturally I remain your humble servant and looked forward to future commissions, but on this occasion I would appreciate the balance of the fee paid and no more said on the matter.”
Charles looked at him shrewdly. “Certainly, if that is your decision. Might I ask if you have a particular reason?”
“Let us say, sir, that I have made the sort of enquiries any conscientious attorney such as yourself might order about an impressionable young client’s relatives. To go further might invite the sort of attention one would rather not attract. Not if a person wishes to see their family grow to maturity and become settled in life.”
“You felt you were being observed?”
“I was aware of scrutiny, yes. Whether from Captain Eastwick’s people or others, I could not say. I did not care to show I had noticed.”
Charles nodded. “That seems wise. My thanks for continuing with the commission. Does the name Flint mean anything to you?”
“Geology has never been one of my interests,” said Scrivener firmly. “Good day, sir.”
Alone, Charles read through the report with an increasingly grim set to his mouth. Much of it filled in the spaces which Kitty Eastwick had left this morning. This constant perambulating between addresses... was Eastwick dealing in protection, rent, dividends or all three? Charles remembered Verity’s half-sister from years back: the change between her vivid, beautiful wildness then and the wary, disenchanted woman in Newton’s this morning, determined to protect her daughter at any cost to herself, made his stomach turn. She and Ann must be extracted from Eastwick as soon as possible. The question was how to do it within the law? And how to keep them safe afterwards?