Heirs and Graces Read online

  ‘He is now walking out with another woman.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘That is what the other woman wants you to believe, but I am not convinced.’

  The corners of Jake’s mouth curled. ‘I bow to your superior knowledge on the subject,’ he drawled.

  ‘As well you should. Men are blind to such subtleties.’

  ‘Ask Mabel in the morning for a description of Travis and where he can be found when he finishes his shift at the glassworks. I am prepared to wager that he visits a local tavern, especially if he is trying to get over his disappointment by drowning his sorrows. It would be an ideal place for one of Parker’s men to affect a chance meeting.’

  ‘I will do that and send word immediately,’ Olivia promised.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Do you think Cartwright is involved with the Radicals?’ Olivia asked pensively.

  ‘The difficulty with secret societies of this nature is that it is almost impossible to identify the principal players,’ Jake replied, frustration in his tone. ‘They have too much to lose if their involvement becomes known so they hide behind others until they are sure which way the wind blows.’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me,’ Isaac said. ‘Cartwright has made a name for himself in the Law Courts but resents not being treated as an equal by the gentlemen he comes into contact with. You and I know that he never will be, Jake. Society might have to accept that times are changing but still jealously guards its own. A lot of the dissatisfied middle classes are wealthier than the landed gentry nowadays, which is precisely the point they are trying to make. Cartwright makes no secret of his feelings on the subject, which makes him a prime target for the Radicals.’

  ‘And might explain why he married his only child off to Armitage’s son,’ Olivia said. ‘They need men of Armitage’s ilk; an ambitious and successful merchant prepared to take risks to further his own position. But Armitage would want something in return. Having a man of Cartwright’s stature in his corner, along with promise of favours when the Radicals gain influence in the House, would be a compelling temptation. Armitage sealed the arrangement by marrying his son off to Cartwright’s daughter. The lessening of import tariffs would certainly help his business. The window tax is a thing of the past, I know, making glass cheaper and more in demand but even so, the tariffs will still be eating into his profits.’

  ‘That is all very well,’ Eva said, ‘but why is Armitage so keen to see his daughter married to Mason?’

  ‘We knew nothing about him until Olivia enlightened us this afternoon,’ Jake replied. ‘Parker is instigating enquiries.’

  ‘Do you imagine that Armitage had anything to do with Smallbrooke’s death?’ Olivia asked after a short, reflective pause.

  Jake lifted his broad shoulders. ‘If not his men, then others loyal to the Radicals. His absence will have been noticed by now and questions will be asked. But at least that gives Thorndike an opportunity to have the body found somewhere less incriminating.’

  ‘Where?’ Olivia asked.

  Jake flashed a grim smile. ‘It would not surprise me if he is found dead in his own home,’ he replied.

  Chapter Six

  A combination of anxiety and elation kept Amelia awake for most of the night. She recalled the incredulity and then violent anger burning in her father’s eyes when he realised she really did mean to defy him. It was at that point she ought to have reverted to being the obedient daughter who gave as little trouble as possible.

  Yet the rebellious side of Amelia’s character, so recently discovered and welcomingly embraced, held firm, strengthening her determination never to marry against her will. She smiled into the darkness. She rather liked the person she was becoming, and she felt no pressing need to revert to the church mouse whom Edith took pleasure in bullying.

  Mama maintained that it was easier to submit to Papa’s will rather than challenge it, thereby never giving him reason to take his belt to her. Henry, on the other hand, had been a regular recipient of harsh punishments for seemingly minor transgressions of Papa’s rigid rules. Amelia felt a modicum of sympathy for the unnecessary brutality her brother had suffered at their father’s hand.

  Now he was obliged to spend every working day in the company of his father, no doubt being bullied just as comprehensively in the workplace as he had been as a boy in the privacy of their home. Papa no longer took a belt to Henry, but his scathing tongue could be equally cutting. And when he returned home, Henry had Edith’s questionable company to look forward to. Perhaps her brother ought to have rebelled too, but if he had, Papa would have disinherited him without a second thought.

  Poor Henry! He had made no criticism of her refusal to marry Mr Mason, she realised now. In fact, he had barely spoken during the carriage ride home. But she did recall Henry sending her odd looks that could almost have been approving. Unless she mistook the matter, Henry enjoyed seeing their father disobliged.

  It occurred to Amelia that Mama had not been happy in her marriage, but she rarely permitted her dissatisfaction to show. Amelia could sense her presence now, applauding her daughter’s courage.

  ‘For us, Mama,’ she whispered into the stillness of the night. ‘Times have changed and I fully intend to change with them.’

  She did owe her father her duty, there was no getting around that fact, but simply refused to sacrifice herself on the altar of marriage to a man she was increasingly convinced would make her miserable. What was less clear to her was why Papa was so keen to see the match take place. It made absolutely no sense, but Papa would not enlighten her even if she asked. Instead he would wear her down until he got his way. Her life would be intolerable and Edith would take pleasure in enforcing whatever punishments Papa deemed appropriate.

  If Amelia was there to submit to them.

  Well, there was a simple solution to that particular problem, if she had the courage to embrace it. Determination rippled through her. If she must choose between marrying Mr Mason and making her own way in the world, the matter required little consideration.

  She was up before first light and dressed herself in a warm, serviceable gown of a dull-coloured twill that would ensure she did not stand out, adding the matching caped jacket. With no time to dress her hair, she ran her mother’s sliver-backed brush through it and tied it back with a ribbon. She threw a few valuables into a small valise, including her mother’s pearls and precious hairbrushes, clean undergarments and all the money she had in her possession—which was more that Papa knew about. She seldom spent her entire allowance, putting it aside for emergencies. Perhaps, on a visceral level, she had always known a day such as this would eventually dawn; hence the reason for her little economies.

  Amelia took a final glance around the room she had occupied for as long as she could remember, squashed a pretty straw bonnet onto her head, pulled on her gloves and was as ready as she would ever be. If she did not go now, the household would stir and the opportunity would be lost to her. She cautiously opened her door, wincing when the hinges squeaked. The noise would not rouse Edith, who was a sound sleeper and seldom appeared before ten in the morning. Papa and Henry were a different matter. In less than an hour’s time they would both have left their beds, ready for another day at the glassworks.

  An indignant squeal from the upper floor told Amelia that her baby nephew was awake. She would miss the little boy who received more attention from his aunt than his own mother, but he was still a babe and would not remember her. She hardened her heart and ignored his crying instead of going up to comfort him, as she so often did first thing.

  When no one reacted to the sound of her door, Amelia released the breath she had not realised she was holding. Emboldened, she emerged from her chamber and crept down the stairs, keeping to the edges where they were less likely to creak.

  The downstairs hallway was deserted. Their only maid slept in an alcove off the kitchen and Amelia could hear her moving about as she lit the range and prepared Papa’s breakfast. Their cook slept
in the attic rooms and would be down at any moment. Amelia could not afford to linger. She darted towards the front door. It was bolted top and bottom and also locked but the key had been left in place. She was required to put her valise down since it required both of her hands to turn it. The tumblers sounded like a small explosion to her ears, but when the maid did not come to investigate it was obvious that her fear had exaggerated the level of noise. The lower bolt was easily shot back but it was necessary for her to drag a chair across, lift her skirts and stand on it in order to reach the top one.

  She felt mildly euphoric when she managed it. Amelia picked up her valise and slipped through the door for what she hoped would be the final time, closing it quietly behind her. She felt no regret about leaving this austere household; only relief, but that was foolish, since her future was far from secure and she might yet be obliged to return to her father and beg him to take her back. Whether he would do so was less certain since Papa did not possess a forgiving nature. Amelia hoped never to find out. Instead she would seek employment, perhaps as a governess. She was well-educated and enjoyed the company of children.

  She strode briskly along the street without once looking back, feeling relieved rather than apprehensive about her uncertain future; still a little in awe of her own daring. She turned at the end of the street into a busier thoroughfare inhabited by bleary-eyed barrow boys, pie sellers offering their wares to drably attired men trudging to work either at the docks or perhaps her father’s factory. She could smell the dank river, its odour wafted towards her by a stiff breeze. She tried not to breathe in too deeply until she had walked a little further and the putrid stench of the Thames had become less pronounced. Stallholders set up their wares, their shrill voices disturbing the early morning stillness. A milk cart trundled slowly down the centre of the road and a gentleman, his evening clothes decidedly dishevelled, yawned expansively and purchased a pie from the nearest seller. No one gave him a second glance. Gentlemen enjoying the services of the prostitutes who plied their trade from local inns was not an uncommon sight in Limehouse.

  Amelia kept her gaze lowered. As far as she could judge, no one paid any more heed to her than they did to the amorous gentleman and she doubted if anyone would remember seeing her, if asked. She walked for ten minutes, far enough away from the house to safely hail a Hansom. She gave the jarvey a destination in Chelsea, several streets away from Olivia’s home. She settled back on the worn seat, trusting to luck that Olivia would take pity on her and give her a bed for a night or two. Just until she could find employment. Amelia adjured herself to prepare for disappointment. It was a desperate plan; she hardly knew Olivia and what she was asking of her was a great imposition.

  But she had nowhere else to go and so there was nothing to be lost by asking.

  ***

  Olivia and Eva were both early risers. They broke their fast in a leisurely fashion in a pretty parlour that overlooked a back garden bursting with colourful spring blooms. Isaac had spent the night in Olivia’s house—he had seldom seen his own rooms since making Eva’s acquaintance—and Eva’s countenance was glowing that morning.

  ‘I am very glad to see you looking so…well, alive,’ Olivia said, smiling over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘If anyone deserves their heart’s desire, it is most definitely you.’

  Eva’s responding smile illuminated her delicate features. ‘I did not know such happiness was possible. I keep expecting the gloss to wear off, for Isaac’s attentions to wane—’

  ‘The man has the good sense to adore you!’

  ‘But what if I am not enough for him?’ Eva’s smile gave way to an anxious frown. ‘I keep thinking that—’

  ‘He is not William, my dear.’ Olivia covered Eva’s hand with her own. ‘Not all men are evil brutes who need to exert their authority by beating their women.’

  ‘You are scowling, Olivia, as though you speak from experience. Is that what your husband did to you? You never say anything about him.’

  ‘That chapter of my life is closed.’ Olivia’s expression was designed to discourage further discussion on the subject. ‘I have no wish to think about it, much less discuss it.’

  ‘I, of all people, can appreciate that desire but I also know it is not always possible to keep the memories at bay. It has helped me considerably to speak with you and Isaac about my situation. I am more than ready to return the favour.’

  ‘Well, we can…what is it, Green?’ she asked as her footman hovered in the doorway.

  ‘Miss Armitage is here, ma’am.’

  Olivia and Eva shared a bewildered look. ‘Amelia? At this hour? We had not agreed to meet her until much later, and not here. What on earth…Well, there is only one way to find out. Show her in at once, Green.’

  Olivia and Eva both stood up as their new friend walked into the room, looking as though she had dressed in a hurry in the first clothes that had come to hand.

  ‘What is it, my dear?’ Olivia asked, taking her hand. ‘Has something happened? Well, of course it has. Otherwise you would not be here. Come and sit down and tell us about it. We will help if we possibly can.’

  Amelia burst into tears.

  ‘Bring an extra cup for Miss Armitage, Green,’ Olivia said. ‘And perhaps a little brandy. My friend is obviously in shock.’

  Olivia and Eva sat with Amelia until her tears stopped and she had regained a little composure. ‘I am so sorry to come here uninvited,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘I had nowhere else to go. I have been loitering in the street for almost an hour, thinking it would be too early to call and that your people would send me about my business when I eventually did.’

  ‘I am glad you felt you could come here,’ Olivia replied, handing her a cup of coffee liberally laced with brandy. ‘Now drink some of this. It will make you feel better. Then you can tell us what has happened.’

  Whilst Amelia sipped her coffee, Olivia slipped from the room and caught up with Green.

  ‘Green, make sure Mrs Farley keeps Mabel out of sight. Until I know why Miss Armitage is here, I don’t want the two of them to meet. It’s possible that Miss Armitage doesn’t even know who Mabel is but I can’t afford to take that chance.’ Olivia took a moment to reflect. ‘I cannot persuade myself that those seeking Mabel have run her down to this establishment already. And even if they have, they wouldn’t send Amelia to smoke her out. Still, it would be best to stay alert.’

  ‘Right you are, ma’am. I’ll see to it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  When Olivia returned to the parlour, a little colour had returned to Amelia’s pale cheeks, courtesy no doubt of the brandy. Olivia sat beside her and took her hand.

  ‘Are you ready to tell us what happened?’ she asked.

  Amelia sat a little straighter and groaned. ‘What happened is that Mr Mason proposed.’

  ‘Well, you expected that, did you not?’ Eva asked, looking as bewildered as Olivia felt.

  ‘Yes, but something snapped inside me. Some of the things you said to me caused me to listen to my doubts, and I decided I could not possibly marry him.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ Olivia covered her mouth with her hand. ‘When I gave you my advice I did not imagine you would actually defy your father.’ She smiled. ‘But if you do not care for Mr Mason’s society then I cannot help being glad that you did.’

  Eva nodded emphatically, setting her ringlets dancing around her face. ‘If you do not love him then you made the right decision.’

  Amelia managed a weak smile. ‘Mr Mason was astounded. He thinks so very well of himself that, naturally, any lady he chooses for a wife ought to be overwhelmed with gratitude.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘I would regret disappointing him, if I actually thought he was disappointed, but the only harm I have done is to his pride. But Papa…well, he is another matter. He is furious and I was to be confined to my room today until I came to my senses.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ Olivia said, recalling similar punishments that had been inflicted upon her. Only she had not pos
sessed Amelia’s spirit and determination—not then—and had given way to parental pressure. And look how that had finished up, she thought with a wry smile. ‘I wonder what will be done when they find you are gone.’

  Amelia’s smile was firmer this time. ‘Oh, I doubt I will be missed for hours yet. Papa and Henry will have left for the glassworks by now and, if anyone remembers to bring me a tray, they will not have done so yet.’

  ‘What shall you do now?’ Eva asked. ‘Have you had time to formulate plans?’

  ‘I hope you don’t think me presumptive, Olivia, but I rather hoped you would allow me to hide away here for a day or two. Papa doesn’t know we are acquainted so he won’t know to look for me here.’

  ‘They would not get past the front door if they tried to,’ Olivia assured her. ‘And of course you are welcome to stay for as long as you need to.’

  ‘Thank you so very much.’ Fresh tears, this time of gratitude, glistened on Amelia’s lashes. ‘I will not trespass upon your hospitality for long.’

  ‘Don’t say another word, my dear,’ Olivia said. ‘We have plenty of room here and we shall enjoy your society.’

  ‘That is extremely kind of you. You will scarcely know I am here, I promise. Once Papa tires of looking for me I mean to take a position as a governess.’

  ‘Come and have some breakfast,’ Olivia said, leading their guest to the table she and Eva had previously occupied. ‘I dare say that running away makes one hungry and one cannot possibly be expected to plan one’s future on an empty stomach.’

  ‘I recall being hungry the entire time when I left William,’ Eva said, ‘and yet my stomach was so knotted that I could barely eat a thing. Just as well since I was down to my last few shillings when Lord Torbay helped me.’

  Amelia managed some coddled eggs and a slice of toast. ‘Thank you,’ she said, finishing a second cup of coffee, this time without any alcohol added to it. ‘I feel so much better already and cannot tell you how relieved I am that you have not turned me away.’