Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Chapter 15
As Barrow headed towards home he puzzled over a problem very close to his heart. He had quite exhausted Smith's inventory, and would soon need to declare his feelings for Arabella in, perhaps, less obtuse fashion. One problem was inexperience with this particular emotion, as he had never been in love before. Oh, he had admired, and on occasion allowed idle thoughts to wander, but there had never been this affliction he was feeling now. Sir John, confirmed old bachelor that he was, could offer no assistance. The idea of being refused had almost frozen John into inactivity. And, to him, the possibility of refusal was a likelihood.
To John's way of thinking, there was no glory attached to his profession. It was simply what he did, and his only pride came from doing it well. He was aware though, that to some uninformed, impressionable people, those whose eager imaginations were fired off in an instant, the art of detection seemed to be all that was mystery and romance. Miss Smith, he suspected, would be neither uninformed or impressionable, and John was rather concerned what effect any disclosure on his part might have on her. Will she think me a liar or braggart? ....or will she be afraid of me?
And then there was the matter of his birth. Arabella, from a hard working, respectable family, had both father and mother. He had neither. Although John would be able to support her very well, he sometimes wondered if perhaps this might be the greatest deterrent of all. But something must be done, for Arabella, normally cheerful and talkative, had been lately growing more cautious and quiet.
With this thought in mind, instead of going directly home, John's feet carried him in another direction. This time Smith's had but one customer, and he was it. He looked at Arabella longingly, how he would love to tell her all! For one brief moment it seemed to John that revelation would somehow be the solution to all of his problems. But then caution intervened. There was far too much to tell her all at once, he reasoned. And he was tired. Indeed, he was far too tired to determine how much he could safely disclose, to make such an important decision as this, and to inflict his decision on another. So, instead, he settled on the pleasure of hearing her sweet voice, and seeing such a face as angels would wish for.
"Oh, sir! Are you unwell?"
"Unwell? No Ara...Miss Smith," he shook his head as if to clear it, "No, I am a bit tired perhaps, but that is all."
Arabella looked at him closely, "A bit tired indeed. You are exhausted, sir, and need to be home!" Oh John, what are you about?
At Arabella's insistence he agreed to go. His one source of comfort would not suffer his foolishness gladly today. But, on further consideration, there was the comfort of knowing that she seemed to care for him.
As John prepared to leave he met two men on their way in. John knew one of them very well, having last seen him but a few short hours ago. Lack of sleep appeared to have no effect on him. Barrow glanced at him meaningfully, and nodded before he made his way to the door. Timothy Scoggins was well familiar with that look, and knew that to engage in his side line at this time would be most disadvantageous.
"Movin' in high society are you?" said his companion, "So Scoggins, how did you ever come ta know such a high class gen'l'man as that?"
"Oh, he's a good enough one I suppose. I work for him from time to time," Though assuming a stance of nonchalance, pride was evident in his voice.
Since her father was well along in years and rather feeble, Arabella had learned long ago to look out for the likes of these two. But John had acknowledged one of them! Why does he consort with thieves? Despite immediate alarm, Arabella did not lose her wits. Since she could make out their conversation very well from her current location, Arabella found reason to be much slower than usual in putting away her wares.
Scoggins continued on in a confidential tone, "You may 'ave heard the name John Blevins. That's wot he goes by, but his real name is Barrow. It's all one in the same. He's sort'a like one of them ah... them Bow Street fellers, the Runners, only high end. Very posh that one. Only works for the quality. I wager his client list reads like a bloody Burke's Peerage. What I wouldn'a give for a peek at it! I hear tell he's quality himself, but from out the back door, if you get my drift. Must be pretty high up as hush, hush as it all is. For a fact, I even 'eard he's the spittin' image of some MP! Well, as he's done seen us Jim, the game is up. I suppose it behooves me to buy something now I'm here. Keep the guv'nor 'appy."
Scoggins now spoke to be heard, "Excuse me Miss, you wouldn'a 'appen to have any genl'man's handkerchiefs 'ereabouts, would you?"
******
As Arabella turned the lock on these, her last two customers of the day, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. John was not a criminal. And perhaps he will understand me, she thought to herself, as she allowed herself the luxury of a hopeful smile.
Chapter 16
Much to Simmons' satisfaction, the master appeared to want his services more than usual this morning. Mr. Barrow always dressed well, as he considered his appearance to be an important part of his occupation, but on this day Simmons could step back and think to himself that his master was very close to handsome, indeed. He has not dressed for a client, this much is certain, "Very good, sir."
"Thank you Simmons. That will be all."
And Simmons knew his master well, for Barrow had determined that this would be the day to speak to Miss Smith. It was foolish to delay any longer. Either she would accept him or she would not. Never one to think overmuch of himself, John did not believe it possible that Arabella was in love with him, but she did not seem to find his company disagreeable. She even seemed to care for him as a friend. Perhaps, in time, she might come accept his profession, overlook his personal deficiencies, maybe even learn to love him. In any event, he determined to lay his cards on the table. And if he held the low hand, at least he would know how to play his next.
John entered the shop and looked about. There was no musical voice to greet him. Instead, Mr. Smith looked up from his ledger and gave a hearty welcome. Any minute John expected to see Arabella enter from the back room, but after several minutes of waiting, rendered inconspicuous by leisurely browsing, she still did not come. John grew anxious.
"I see you are quite alone today Mr. Smith."
"Yes I am sir, and not liking it in the least. There was an express come late yesterday evening. Sudden sickness in the family. Arabella left by post quite early this morning, called away to care for her aunt."
It took all John had to conceal his shock and disappointment. He did not feel enough in command to ask specific questions without appearing presumptuous, so limited himself to generalities, "This illness, it is nothing serious I hope?" He feared for her own health.
"I thank you for asking. As it is my eldest sister that's unwell, I suspect it's nothing worse than old age. But she is doing poorly, very poorly sir, and has no one to look after her."
"I'm exceedingly sorry! I know you will miss your daughter," all the while thinking rather too much how he would miss her.
"Very much, indeed! As my wife's health is rather indifferent Arabella has been my right hand. Without her I would have had to close shop long ago."
"And I know she will miss her friends," hoping that he counted among that number, and that she would not make any new ones in her absence.
"Yes sir, society makes her cheerful! Oh, before that letter arrived she was in the very best of spirits! It seemed almost to break her heart to have to leave. But she is a good girl and did her duty."
Needing some pretense for having come in, John made a purchase. He did not know or even care what it was, or that he already had two of the same in his possession. Little mattered at that moment. Though not seeing the possibility of it, John wished Mr. Smith a good day and left the shop.
In his capacity as Mr. Blevins, Barrow had grown quite used to being in control of external factors, and was usually able to manipulate events to suit his purpose. But this was out of his hands. It would be no problem for him to find Arabella, wherever she was, and see her there, but John felt strongly that this would not be an honorable thing for him to do. So it seemed that there was nothing left to do but be patient. Having attempted that quality on various occasions with varying degrees of success, John knew that this wait, whatever its length, would be a long one. But there was one thing he could do with no difficulty at all. He checked his watch and slowly made his way to a certain corner.
Tim arched his brow at the request, but seeing that 'the guv'nor' was most definitely not joking, he quickly agreed to his latest assignment. It would seem that Mr. Timothy Scoggins was to take a turn at law enforcement. In this capacity, he was to prevent those of his ilk from entering Smith's shop ever again.
Chapter 17
The only means John knew of to make time pass tolerably quickly was work, so he immersed himself in it. In this fashion, days turned to weeks, weeks to months, but still Arabella did not return. It was now early March. From Mr. Smith he learned that Arabella's patient showed no improvement, and that none was to be hoped for. John had new appreciation for the importance Miss Smith had come to play in his life. Without her frequent presence, part of him seemed adrift somehow. Her intelligence, wit and sunny disposition were like the wind to his sail. He missed the anchor of her kind and prudent soul. Despite his resolve to respect her privacy John had, through careful inquiry, found out where she was. Meryton was but a few hours away, and the temptation was becoming increasingly difficult to check. So anxious to see Arabella, John was beginning to entertain uncharitable thoughts regarding her patient.
Some of this anxiety was recent and very easily traced. One of John's new cases was growing increasingly more complicated, but only because his client, a recent young widow, would have it so. Normally up to any challenge, this one did not bode well at all. John's every instinct warned him of pitfalls ahead.
Lady Daphne Armbruster was the suitably grieving young woman. Her sudden marriage two years ago to Lord Armbruster, the last direct descendant of an ancient noble family, had provided London society with fresh sources of wonder and speculation. That this ancient Earl had finally been convinced to share his wealth and love with someone, even one so young and beautiful as the celebrated Miss Daphne Delacort, was perhaps rendered less amazing when one considered the physical prowess and virility exhibited by this great and noble man. A mere seven months into the nuptials he had been able to produce an heir. Further proof of this man's strong bloodline was the size and strength of his son, given the abbreviated nature of its term. The young future earl managed quite well for one born so prematurely, quite well indeed.
And what a shock that so soon after the gift of motherhood, her ladyship's joy should be so tempered by widowhood. The London set, always eager for news on any front, was exceedingly glad for this opportunity to grieve over such a tragic turn of events, tragedy rendered all the more interesting by extreme wealth, youth and beauty. But, although she was making an amazingly swift recovery, there were still trials ahead. The financial and legal aspects of settling an estate of well over three hundred thousand pounds were daunting to say the least, especially when a second will was brought forward by a distant cousin, an heir presumptive, casting serious doubts over the validity of the young child's birthright. The very legitimacy of her young son was being called into question, that and her rather comfortable annuity from one of the largest estates in the country. Understandably, her ladyship resolved to put things to rights. Her continued comfort, and impeccable reputation, demanded it.
And there were personal considerations as well. Being the warm-hearted soul that she was, her ladyship did not intend to be alone for one minute longer than was socially necessary and, for that matter, had no objection whatsoever to getting an early start on things. Not surprisingly, there were any number of selfless gentlemen more than willing to lend their assistance during this unsettled period, but her ladyship would have none of them. As she had done for most of her life she would help herself or, as in this instance, carefully select someone best suited to serve her purpose. In her mind her thoughts were turning, much as the card she held was turning over and over in her well-kept delicate hand. The card named a gentleman, a Mr. John Blevins.
Their first meeting had not been promising. Unimpressed by his youth (He is my own age, possibly younger!) and less than remarkable countenance, she was disappointed at first, and tempted to dismiss him out of hand. She soon changed her mind. Mr. Blevins was found to be not only capable, but extremely clever. One need only look into his eyes to see an active, inquisitive mind. And how expressive those eyes! Their second meeting provided much more to interest. It was soon discovered that Mr. Blevins was fit and trim, and wore his elegant attire exceedingly well... and there was an air about him, a sense of danger perhaps, that she found particularly fascinating.... and while his features lacked the easy harmony of what is commonly called handsome, there was something intriguing about his countenance after all... especially his profile... and especially in the subdued candlelight she took care to provide.
Further meetings tended to solidify this sudden change of opinion. Her ladyship was quite decided, and once she made any decision she seldom brooked disappointment. Mr. Blevins would do well, extremely well indeed.
It took no time at all for John to thwart the challenge to the young heir. Proof brought forward by Lord Armbruster's personal physician revealed that his patient had been fending off the encroachment of his illness with increasing, and alarming, quantities of opium. Just prior to his demise, Lord Armbruster's mental faculties had been so reduced by his medication that no court in the land would allow his second will, as it had been composed by a man with the mental abilities of a small hothouse plant. Her ladyship's grief was lessened considerably by this revelation.
The heir presumptive had no choice but to disappear into obscurity, as suddenly as he had made his appearance. It was John's sincere wish that he could fade away in similar fashion, but her ladyship was not yet done. Other matters must be settled, and no one could care for her affairs so capably as Mr. Blevins. One new crisis followed another with alarming frequency. Sorting out his overwhelming feeling of disquiet, John was growing increasingly aware of three very disturbing facts: Arabella was gone far too long. His loneliness was growing more palpable and oppressive with each passing day. Lady Armbruster's impeccable curls had suddenly taken on the fragrance of sweet lavender and fresh rain.
But while human, and subject to vulnerability, John was not weak. Based in part on his still limited exposure to the fair sex, John tended to idealize women. And while true that his profession would often afford a less rosy, more precise, perspective on the nature of things, his experience had also taught him that where there was conflict between the sexes, women, more often than not, were the wronged party, and received the lions share of censure. Consequently, John tended to make allowances for deficiencies he found in ladies that he would have difficulty tolerating in a man. It would seem though, that Lady Armbruster was determined to give him an opportunity to further his education. Thanks to her, John might yet learn to lose his patience with a woman.
Chapter 18
Since Mr. Blevins had resolved her most pressing problems so expeditiously, Lady Armbruster saw the wisdom of involving him in every aspect of her late husband's estate. Every minor question, small problem and bothersome detail had to have his undivided attention. These were matters that could easily have been addressed by legal counsel, and indeed, Lord Armbruster's small army of lawyers had been retained for this very purpose. They had now been reduced to mere minions, going about their business only after her ladyship had been assured of Mr. Blevins approbation. The only one happy with this arrangement was the lady herself. Indeed, had it not been for the unfortunate, imprecise wording of her contract, ' ...to my complete satisfaction', John would have been gone long ago. Never had he met with a more insatiable client.
Yes, her ladyship was quite determined to be satisfied, at some point in time, and John was just as determined to keep his distance. In this battle of wills, John's patience was being sorely tried. This morning would be no exception. He had been summoned to Lady Armbruster's own suite of rooms to discuss some trivial matter, when, just as he was contriving some means to extract himself, a footman entered with a card.
Her ladyship read the card then, playfully tapping the footman's sleeve with her fan she admonished him, "Giles, you are such a silly creature! You should know by now to send Miss Endicott in straightaway. Now, go see to some tea."
To John she whispered, "Such formality! I'm afraid my husband insisted on such propriety here that the servants are rather more elegant than I am."
The door was flung open and in breezed Miss Beatrice Endicott, all hurry, bother, perfume and flaming red hair. Her ladyship made the introduction, then addressed her friend, "Mr Blevins has been invaluable. He's taken care of all the messy little details (and that one large one) that have hounded me incessantly since my poor husband's death. I don't know what I would have done without him."
Miss Endicott looked at John closely, "Yes, I am certain..." Something, perhaps recognition, seemed to light her eyes. Then, laughing, she turned to her friend, "But my dear, you have always been so much more capable than you give yourself credit for!"
John stood abruptly, "Excuse me your ladyship, Miss Endicott, " nodding to each in turn, "I would not wish to intrude any longer." Grateful for the means to escape, John gathered his hat and gloves and took his leave.
After the door closed behind him, Daphne turned to her friend, "You see how I am treated, Beatrice. Any excuse to leave me! You would think I had plague... but I believe that will change in time."
Miss Endicott laughed, "Well, one thing certainly will not change. You will continue to plague him. Do not fret my dear, I have every confidence in your abilities... though I am shocked at your lack of perception."
"Heaven forbid! Correct me! What have I overlooked?"
"Only something quite remarkable Daphne." In conspiratorial tone she continued, "You are slipping, friend, the picture was there before you. Your Mr. Blevins, he looks to be a much younger twin of an acquaintance of ours, The Duke of Charrington. Wouldn't you agree?"
Daphne seldom missed such things and chastised herself for such mental carelessness. Mr. Blevins' other qualities had quite distracted her from this very obvious fact. His resemblance was more than remarkable. The two ladies looked at each other significantly. They were both aware of the rumors, rumors instigated by that man's own son. It had been several years ago at a ball. Lord Thorne's younger son Edward had, in drunken rage, railed against his father for siring a bastard, and having the temerity to send them off to school together. He was quickly removed by his friends, but too many had overheard him to remove the damage.
Rumors are always interesting, whether proven or not. But now, here was more interesting proof in the person of Mr. John Blevins. Edward Thorne was at Eton. A brief interrogation and her ladyship would have her answer. I will find him out.
Despite repeated attempts on his part to redirect their discussions, John was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the focus of their meetings on business. Normally quite skilled at steering conversations where he wanted them to go, he found he was dealing with someone just as adept, someone with prodigious curiosity, and no shame.
Thus one day, from out of the blue, "I think you are related to an old friend of mine. You must be. The resemblance is uncanny. There is a great family out of _______shire. Lord Thorne, the Duke of ..."
"I have no family madam!" after it was said, John realized he had been caught unaware. There had been emotion in his voice.
So the rumors are true! And those eyes of his cannot lie. How charming!
Seemingly contrite at being so rebuffed she begged forgiveness, "Please humor me Mr. Blevins. I feel I am cut off from the world right now. I must indulge in idle conversation from time to time, else I shall go mad." She sat quiet for several minutes altogether, her eyes eloquent in their despondency. And then the wind changed direction once again, "But you must admit to being a puzzlebox. Everything I know about you is by deduction. For instance, and I'm usually right about these things, I have you pegged as an Eton man. Early education is so important, and I can always tell when it has been properly applied. You did go there, did you not?"
Momentarily taken aback by yet another shift in the conversation, John finally answered, "It is of no importance, your ladyship."
Lady Armbruster threw back her head and laughed heartily, "What is of no importance? Early education, or whether or not you were properly schooled?" She was enjoying his obvious discomfiture, "Well, it is of little consequence. They did an excellent job. Whoever. Still, I wonder how you could contrive to be so clever without Eton."
John struggled to control the tone of his voice, "I think you managed quite well without Eton, madam."
Her head went back again, revealing two rows of pearl-like perfection. "Yes, I believe you are right, but I'm afraid there were other schools for my particular brand of education," with a sigh her mood shifted again, she was now sincere, pensive, "And some very hard lessons were taught there... Do not think I have always been like this Mr. Blevins, I was a very different sort of person years ago. You might even have called me a school girl," Just as quickly the cloud passed, "But enough of this..."
It must have been something horrific to leave such a corrupt core within that beautiful shell of hers. John almost found himself feeling sorry for her, and though repelled by Lady Armbruster's manipulative ways, he was at the same time strangely fascinated. John was aware that this interview had served a purpose, and that her ladyship had found him out. Indeed, many of his clients had remarked on his unfortunate resemblance to Lord Thorne. Now it remained to be seen what she would do with her information. One thing was certain though, John had no intention of playing Damocles to Lady Armbruster's fickle Dionysius.
Chapter 19
What particularly irked John was the fact that it was increasingly being expected that he would continue to attend Lady Armbruster, even after what had been business suddenly turned social. This was usually signaled by the arrival of some frienhd or another, more often than not the friend was that boisterous redhead, Miss Beatrice Endicott. Indeed, as these thoughts were running through John's mind he heard the rumblings of chaotic confusion which usually accompanied the arrival of this very person. A few seconds more and the entrance was made.
Miss Endicott was in such a flurry that Giles was pushed to the side and the door thrown open by her own hand. Normally immaculate, the lady's attire and coiffure were askance, her demeanor more breathless than usual. Some matter of monumental importance had supplanted every social grace. She was, in short, bristling with information. Struggling to catch her breath and speak simultaneously, she finally sputtered, "Fitzie... REFUSED!"
As though anticipating his next move, Lady Armbruster's hand rested lightly on John's arm as if to detain him, "Stay, Mr. Blevins.."
It was time to cut his losses. John had attempted on numerous occasions to reason with this woman, but she would not listen. Disgusted with such waste of time, and dangerously close to loosing his temper, he spat out, "I will take my leave, madam!"
Leaning over she whispered to John, "You will do nothing of the kind!" Then, in normal voice, "Don't let my friend frighten you away, Mr. Blevins. This is merely steam. Miss Endicott is rather like a pot bubbling over. Lift the lid for a short while and she'll settle in nicely." Finally, turning to her friend she addressed her, "Take a deep breath, Beatrice. Do you need salts?"
With one hand resting upon her bosom in an attempt to regulate the violence of her impending exclamation, Miss Endicott finally lost every semblance of decorum, "I don't need any blasted salts you silly thing, hear me out. I SAID, FITZWILLIAM DARCY WAS REFUSED!"
The silence which followed was deafening. There were two rather remarkable results from Miss Endicott's proclamation. Lady Armbruster was rendered momentarily speechless, and John's anxiety to leave was suddenly cut short.
As usual, her ladyship's recovery was swift. "Surely you cannot mean my cousin, His Royal Rudeness, King of Pemberley?" She continued in amazement, "But who refused him? She would need wings to be higher than he is. Who is this angel?"
"Ah, but there's the rub, Daphne. She is a little country girl, a nobody! Turned him down flat. AND my dear, the best part, she boxed his ears soundly and sent him off like a whipped puppy. Don't doubt me dear, my source is excellent...."
For the moment John seemed conveniently forgotten. This would not be the first time John Thomas had ever listened in on idle gossip. It was his business to gather information, regardless of it's source. So, feigning disinterest, not one word went unheard.
As it just so happened, Miss Endicott's personal maid had a sister who was most conveniently situated. This young woman was employed as maid at Hunsford Parsonage in Kent, and was blessed with the double advantage of curiosity and a sharp ear. Her reward was quite an ear full one day for, soon after admitting Mr. Darcy to the parsonage to call upon a young lady staying there, she heard the raised pitch of two voices engaged in fierce combat. She could not help but overhear. Understandably shocked by what transpired, she would not rest until telling someone. Her relief came in the form of a letter written to her sister in London. In turn this sister, knowing one of the parties concerned to be an acquaintance of her mistress, also could not rest until passing on the information.
The conversation which followed this revelation did not paint a pretty picture of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Lady Armbruster was first cousin to Darcy. Her mother was sister to Mr. Darcy's father. Growing up, the two had been the very best of friends, but somewhere along the way that had changed. He was now a proud, arrogant man, who would have nothing to do with the world in general, and his cousin in particular. John was surprised to hear his former friend described in these terms, and was somewhat inclined to believe that any change in Darcy's treatment of Lady Armbruster had more to do with a change in the lady, and not the man. But then Miss Endicott went on to relate what transpired after Darcy was refused. It seemed that he had, in no uncertain terms, informed the object of his affection that alliance between their two families would have been degradation. This was bad form indeed, and the tongue lashing he received in return appeared well deserved. John was shocked and, wanting to find some excuse for his friend, hoped to hear something more about the lady, but there was not much to know.
"Her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a young gentlewoman with absolutely no money, no connections. She lives on the edge of civilization. Someplace in Hertfordshire called Longbourne, near a town called Meryton I believe..."
John wanted more than anything for this account of Darcy's character to be found false, but was uncertain where to start. It was general knowledge that Darcy sometimes frequented White's with Bingley, and at one time Todd, John's inside connection there, could have been helpful in gathering useful information. But access to that gentleman's club was now closed for John had made a foolish mistake, he had finally lost all patience with William Todd. This would necessitate another approach.
A few months ago John had never heard of Meryton and, until he discovered that Arabella Smith was exiled there, would have had no earthly idea where it was. Now he knew exactly where it was. He could see it on the map with his eyes closed, and knew it's distance from London to the quarter mile. And now he was hearing of Meryton once more. Someone who lived there thought ill of Fitzwilliam Darcy. Perhaps he should go there... as a favor to a friend.
Chapter 20
When alone later that day, Lady Armbruster could not help but wonder at Mr. Blevins' sudden complacence. For him to sit patiently while she indulged in gossip seemed somehow out of character. Unless something held his interest. What could it be? Of course Darcy was at Eton as well. But judging from Mr. Blevins appearance, there must be at the very least five years difference in age between the two of them. If they knew each other at all it was certainly only a slight acquaintance. Not enough to answer for the length of time Mr. Blevins kept his seat and held his tongue.
Lady Armbruster, with too much time at her disposal, had made Mr. Blevins her own particular amusement. And in her opinion, any game worth playing was worth playing well. That being the case, she determined to find yet another piece to her puzzle.
John wondered how Lady Armbruster would take the news? Not that it would make any difference. He was going regardless of her sentiments, and if there was such a thing as luck, perhaps she might cut him loose for breaking contract. In any event, he would deal with the possible consequences when he returned. So it came as something of a surprise when her ladyship 'granted him leave' as she put it, with very little resistance.
"But tell me, what sort of business calls you away so suddenly?" A faint smile rested upon her lips, "I believe that I have some right to know."
"You will have that right, madam, only if my other clients are privy to information regarding your case."
"Touché, Mr. Blevins," she tossed her head, and indulged in good natured laughter, "Very well said. And I shall try to mind my own business, as long as you promise to return and attend to yours."
Having told that lie, Lady Armbruster began making plans to find out where Mr. Blevins was going, even as the door closed behind him.
John's intention was to set out early the next morning. But, after receiving a note delivered in haste by one of her ladyship's footmen, John found he had to delay his trip by a few hours. The note served to remind him that he possessed certain important legal papers belonging to her ladyship. Having already been carefully examined, these documents now needed to be returned so that her lawyers could act upon them. Apparently there were time constraints involved, so John had no choice but to see Lady Armbruster one last time before leaving for Meryton.
Arriving at her town house with no prior appointment, John found that he now shared the same favored position as Miss Endicott. Informed of her ladyship's whereabouts, he was shown in without introduction. As he made his way within her suite of rooms, he was startled by the unfamiliar sound of a child crying. John paused in an alcove for several moments without being seen. The young Earl of Creighton, Lord James Alistair Thaddeus Armbruster III, had apparently suffered a recent fall and, cradled in his mother's arms was finding comfort there. John wondered at the scene before him. So surprised at seeing her in such a human context as this, John did not realize that he was now being observed.
"You may come in Mr. Blevins, it is only a mighty wound to the knee. If you are mindful of that rug there and do not run, I promise you will not suffer similar injury. Come, let me introduce you."
John entered the room and, with some trepidation, made his way to her ladyship's chair. Never having been very child-like, or much in the company of small children, John did not quite know what to do with them. But he did remember how disconcerting it could be to have to strain upwards to speak with someone when in all other ways he saw eye to eye, so he knelt down. Taking small, tear moistened fingers in his own, John solemnly shook hands and made acquaintance with the young earl.
It seems that my child possesses charms which I do not, Daphne wryly observed. Indeed, for the remainder of the short time he was there Mr. Blevins was not only civil, but pleasant, even gracing her with a smile. Daphne was transfixed. Though not handsome, his smile transforms him into something far better. Seeing John in this human context, Lady Armbruster felt the first stirrings of something she had not felt for some time. Something more tender, and a little less calculating, was now born in her heart.
Somewhat less calculating. For even now, acting on prior instructions, her ladyship's pretty little French maid was working her charms on John's coachman. Poor Stevens, quite overcome by the attention, was more than happy to share the news of his masters impending journey, and his whereabouts for the next week. Having already packed her trunks, Daphne only needed direction to be gone.
Chapter 21
John's intention was to spend about a week in Meryton before heading back to town. What he came here to do would not take much time but, John smiled to himself, he rather planned to accidentally run into an old acquaintance during the course of his stay.
It would in all likelihood be a simple matter to find out about this Miss Bennet in a small town such as Meryton. In places such as these, people were known and matters discussed. Finding those willing to converse on any number of subjects, particularly the comings and goings of their neighbors was, invariably, like going to a pond and finding ducks. And so it was. A simple inquiry was made of the innkeeper regarding Meryton and environs. "What," John wanted to know, "is worthy of note in this corner of the world?"
The usual list of superlatives which followed showed this amiable man to be fairly bursting with civic pride. And since Meryton was, of course, the hub of all matters social and economic, the list was long. With Barrow's guidance, the innkeeper's ramblings grew increasingly specific and, before long, John knew quite a bit about the Bennet family. The information was generally good. They were a respectable family, consisting of father, mother and five daughters. The two eldest daughters, universally well thought of, were considered to be both beautiful and ladylike, the two youngest handsome and silly, the middle daughter was allowed to be accomplished. With an entail attached to the family estate it would, upon the demise of the current occupant, default to the closest male relation. This information reflected rather well upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet. There were not many who, under similar circumstances, would scruple to turn down any proposal, yet she had refused Darcy on principle! John's curiosity would not let this rest. Fortunately his source was a gossipy windbag, and happy to oblige.
Additional questioning revealed quite a bit about Darcy, and Bingley as well. Both men had been in the neighborhood almost six months ago, Bingley as resident, Darcy as guest. It appeared that neither man was thought too highly of. Darcy was accused of the worse sort of pride and arrogance. Bingley, though amiable, was considered capricious and unsteady, for he did not marry the eldest Miss Bennet as he ought to have.
Turning to the subject of broken hearts, the innkeeper elaborated at length on a recent and very pretty addition to the neighborhood, a certain Miss Smith, who was doing quite a bit of that sort of thing lately. John made mental note to add another week to his stay. Little did he know that there were soon to be complications from an unexpected quarter.
"If I didn't know better, madam, I would think you had followed me."
Stepping out from the relative darkness of a tiny shop into bright April sunshine, John almost walked directly into Lady Armbruster accompanied by her maid. Initial shock had given way to characteristic frankness.
"You flatter yourself Mr. Blevins. I have an important mission here," Daphne's eyes lighted upon the colorful nosegay of spring flowers that had just come into John's possession.
John's skepticism was readily apparent. If he had seen her ladyship strolling, catlike, down a length of fence it would have been less of a puzzle, and that very picture planted itself rather firmly in John's mind. Seeing that she was being laughed at, Daphne, who was not overly proud, saw humor enough to join in. She then continued by way of explanation, "I am compelled to satisfy overwhelming curiosity, Mr. Blevins. Did you not overhear my last conversation with Miss Endicott? Ah, never mind! You would be far too discreet to admit to it. In any event," She glanced meaningfully at John's bouquet, "I do not know why you are here, sir, but I set out to see the priceless gem who would refuse my cousin. As fate would have it she has not yet returned from Kent, but I am resolved to learn of her what I can. Are you staying at the inn as well? As if there were a choice," She leaned in close and whispered, "This is truly the edge of civilization! Come," She took his arm, "Walk with me. Keep the natives at bay."
As her ladyship desired to turn back to the inn, and John had no civil reason to leave her unaccompanied, they headed back towards their lodgings. All the while Daphne, a well spring of information and enlightenment, managed to keep Barrow's attention. Clever woman that she was, Lady Armbruster thought she knew which topic would keep John from bolting, and so spent the better part of their walk speaking of her cousin.
"I do not know why I take such personal interest in this, except to say that I remember Darcy as a good man, and a dear friend. Even now, I think there is hope. If he were to marry well, perhaps. Someone who would take the starch out of him. I rather like the sound of this Miss Bennet. She holds promise. But there is the dream! In reality, his mother's family expects him to marry one of their own. It is quite understood that Darcy will wed his cousin, Anne de Bourgh. Such a cross, sickly thing! Any more pale and she'd be useful as a window. And her mother! St. George was lax and did not complete his task. There is one dragon left in England, my friend. She lives in Kent."
The name de Bourgh jogged John's memory. He seemed to recall Darcy once saying that Lady Catherine could always influence his actions. What ever it was that she wanted him to do, he would be certain of doing the opposite. Lady Armbruster continued on in confidential tone.
"I have heard that my cousin did not put his best foot forward while in this neighborhood. Not that I'm surprised. He was here with a friend several months ago, a Mr. Bingley, and the two of them did much to wreck the peace and equilibrium of the Bennet household. While here, Darcy slighted the same young woman that he would throw himself at the feet of four months later. Meanwhile, his friend did just the opposite, falling just short of professing undying affection for the eldest Miss Bennet, only to forget her completely upon returning to town. What a pair these two! I have never had the pleasure of meeting him, but it is my understanding that Bingley is Darcy's trained boy. They go everywhere, and do everything together in a way that is wondrous to behold. So I suppose it's only natural that the two of them would inflict themselves on the same family."
Could they really have changed so drastically in six, almost seven years time? If that were the case John wanted to hear no more of it. Embarrassed for his former friends, John sought to turn the conversation, "I'm amazed at your sagacity, madam. For you to have found all this out on such short notice is to your credit. I believe you have missed your calling."
"Who knows Mr. Blevins, you might have need of my services some day. We would be excellent partners, I think. I am very good at what I do," Lady Armbruster met John's glance with unblushing gaze, and held it, then continued on in lighter tone, "The power of a well placed calling card has never ceased to amaze me. And the right sort of card will always loosen the tongues of those flattered to receive it. I am almost ashamed to admit how simple it was Mr. Blevins..." Her ladyship suddenly ceased talking, for John had suddenly drawn up short.
"Excuse me madam, I believe I see an acquaintance," With no further ceremony, and no excessive show of civility, John disengaged his arm from her ladyship, and dodged across the busy street, narrowly avoiding several horse drawn conveyances. Indeed, he had seen an acquaintance. And he would rather not be in the company of this lady when noticed by the other.
"John!" Recognizing Barrow at the same time that she saw him almost caught by the wheels of a farmer's wagon, Arabella cried out in alarm.
Her ladyship surveyed the ongoing scene with raised brow, a light smile playing on her lips. On a first name basis with someone, are we? And just who is this little maid? Suddenly Daphne, normally imperturbable, raised both brows. She knew the young woman! Several years ago her brother Thomas Delacort had pointed this one out. Lady Armbruster took another look to be certain, but there could be little room for doubt. Yes indeed, four or five years ago this pretty young miss was grist for the mill. There was no change in Daphne's countenance to mark her resolution, but she had come to one unshakable conclusion. Mr. Blevins can do far better.
Chapter 22
"Pray, excuse me sir! I did not mean to take such liberty with your name. I'm afraid that the shock of seeing you, and fear for your safety joined forces to separate my mind from my tongue!"
Executing a deep bow while catching his breath, John greeted the lady, "Such a liberty could only give me pleasure, Miss Smith," With a gentle smile upon his face, John said nothing for several seconds altogether, allowing his eyes to feast on the sight before him. Finally he found voice again, "Let me add, madam, it has been far too long since I last had the pleasure of seeing you."
Though extremely pleased to see him in return, Arabella was a little embarrassed by such an outburst, and struggled to regain her composure. Then, remembering the novelty of the situation, she found the presence of mind to ask the obvious, "I am happy to see you as well, Mr. Barrow, but this is such a shock. What is it that brings you here, sir?"
"Personal business, madam. I came to inquire after a friend. But I found that I had another friend in the neighborhood, and made plans to find her out," Looking down, John remembered his bouquet. Within view of all on the public street he presented his gift to Arabella, "Please, accept this. It is the least I could do to repay you for making such quick work of my search."
What can be done with this man! Arabella blushed as she accepted her flowers, but loved him all the more for such unchecked exuberance, "And how have you been spending your time Mr. Barrow? Have your friends been keeping you occupied?"
"I've been at my business. The same as always, Miss Smith. And I'm afraid that an over abundance of one has lead to a shortage of the other. To make matters worse, what few friends I do have find that they must leave town."
"Oh, now that is sad, sir. But I am pleased to see that you have discovered England's excellent system of roadways, which affords the means to visit those friends that cannot visit you."
John was the happy recipient of Arabella's pointed observation. It delighted him to know that she counted him among her friends, and that this visit was welcome. His pleasure increased when Arabella expressed the wish to introduce him to her aunt, though John still harbored a secret grudge against that lady for not receiving her heavenly reward on a more timely basis. Happy to do his service as a gentleman, John offered Arabella his arm and, with her hand resting lightly upon it, was now prepared to follow her to the ends of the earth or, in this case, the end of a short street of shops. There, in a small apartment above the shop once belonging to her husband, resided the ancient but resilient Mrs. Flora Tillison. Arabella made the introduction.
"Mr. Barrow, I would like for you to meet my aunt, Mrs. Tillison. Aunt, this is Mr. Barrow, an acquaintance from town."
In a loud voice, which served to pinpoint one of the lady's maladies she answered, "Yes, yes, very well."
Arabella smiled fondly, "This lady has listened patiently to all of my worries these past several months, Mr. Barrow. She is the very best kind of confidant."
"Speak louder dear, I cannot hear you."
Her eyes continuing to smile, Arabella glanced archly at John before repeating herself in higher volume for the benefit of the older lady. That Mrs. Tillison still did not hear was evident, but she was pleased with the attention nonetheless. John marveled that Arabella had somehow managed to keep her gentle humor during this trying time, and observed the scene before him with more than complaisancy. A sudden surge of emotion left him feeling almost giddy, reaffirming what he already knew. Oh yes, I love this woman!
Arabella glanced over and saw John looking flushed and foolish. What a thrill to know that she alone was the cause of it! Momentary happiness was drawn up short though, as she acknowledged the obstacles that still stood between them. Truth must be revealed before they could reach an understanding. He had yet to show trust in her, enough trust to tell her about himself. And her truth might yet drive him away. Dare she attempt a candid discussion with him now?
John saw the change on Arabella's face. Thinking that she might be displeased at such an overt show of affection, he had to wonder if it was the display, or the source of it that disturbed her the most. But even if it might pain him, he must have his answer before he left this place. Not wholly reliant on Mrs. Tillison's deafness (as she had shown him no particular favor in the past) John was hesitant about broaching the subject while seated next to that lady's bed. But he would soon be provided with an opening. Observing that her aunt's eyes had grown heavy with her efforts to keep company, Arabella suggested they continue their conversation in the parlor. Once they were settled, she ventured to be brave.
"Mr. Barrow, I have often wondered about your mysterious occupation, but you've always been so agile as to sidestep the issue whenever I brought it up. Before I left town I heard rumors... but would wish to hear it from you. Pray tell me, what exactly do you do for a living, sir?"
John's face was down, and he appeared to be quite concerned with an old crack on a nearby table, his finger diligently tracing its outline. But there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I would advise you to attend only to those rumors which place me in the best possible light. This much I can say, I do not work against the law," His inspection of the crevice complete, John met Arabella's eye and he said with perfect gravity, "Besides, my telling you would of necessity place constraints on you Miss Smith."
"Sir?"
"If I tell you, you will have to marry me."
As Arabella blushed and quickly put her head down, John could not help but notice how very pretty she was with a bloom to her cheeks. If he had been more observant, he would have seen that she was flushed and angry. Arabella had not yet come to fully understand John. He rather wanted to unburden his heart, and secure her hand in one deft maneuver, and was fervently hoping that curiosity would get the better of her. To Arabella, this was yet another sidestep, and she was not pleased. How can I unburden my heart to him if he will not trust me. Is it possible he is playing me for a fool? John would have seen Arabella's disapprobation first hand had not Mrs. Tillison called from her room, signaling her need for immediate and sustained attention. Arabella suggested that John take his leave.
Chapter 23
As he drew near, John was surprised to see that he would not be Arabella's first visitor, and wondered who it was that had come calling at such an early hour. Even from a distance Barrow knew that the lady could not be a neighbor, as such a degree of London fashion was normally not seen in this place. Then recognition dawned. Barrow was almost certain that he knew the figure beating a swift retreat from Arabella's door. But what possible reason could she have for calling there?
"Please, leave me sir!"
The door was opened but a crack, even so, John could see that Arabella was distraught. There had been an unsuccessful attempt to conceal recent tears, and her voice trembled with emotion.
"Good Lord! What has happened, Miss Smith?" John spoke from his heart. Then, realizing that he was selfishly giving way to his feelings when he could possibly be of use to her, he continued, "Please, whatever it is, let me assist you."
"You have done quite enough! I will let you do no more. Make no attempt to see me here again sir. If you mean me no harm, you must speak with my father when I return to town. Till then, you can have nothing more to say to me!"
John now understood that he somehow played a role in Arabella's distress, "Miss Smith, if something has been said... I am not entirely certain of my accuser, and am completely ignorant of the accusation. I entreat you, give me the chance to defend myself!"
Arabella, who could not be unmoved, wept fresh tears, "Please sir, this is how it must be. I beg you to leave me alone." With a heavy heart she closed the door. Arabella's past had caught up with her.
Heartbroken, angry and confused, there was but one thing John knew with any degree of certainty. She did this! Upon arriving back at the inn, he found that Lady Armbruster had left for town, with all due haste, within the past half hour. On one hand he was grateful for the distance between them, since he was not now master of his emotions. On the other hand, he knew that he would close that distance on the morrow. There would then be the devil to pay.
That night, when sleep finally came, John dreamt of Arabella. After so many months of loving her with so little hope of return she had finally agreed to be his. Gathering her into his arms they were locked in embrace, as though two shipwrecked souls that would drown but for holding on to one another.
That next morning, the dawn was met by somber gray mist. And the distance between Meryton and London saw early closure.
Chapter 24
"Where is she?"
After giving his answer, Giles wisely stepped aside before he could be thrown. The door to her ladyship's sitting room was flung open with such force that a large vase was sent tumbling, its shards littering the floor. Striding slowly into the room, John fixed his gaze on Lady Armbruster with unqualified malevolence. She met his challenge with unflinching eye.
"What did you say to her?" John's question met with no answer. Her silence confirmed what he already knew, and served as additional fuel for his fury.
"You have no right to my personal life!
"She is not for you."
"You common wench."
"I have your interests at heart when you do not!"
"How dare you!"
"You can ill afford to marry with no consideration to wealth. Don't be a fool! You have an excellent income, but no security. What if something were to happen? Suppose you were injured, or worse? Where would that leave your wife? Your children? You have not thought this out!"
John had never been so angry with her as now. Stepping closer, he was careful to stay out of striking distance. His words were measured carefully, but their tone revealed his emotion, "Let me make this plain to you. My life is not and will never be your concern."
Her emotion matched his own, "It is my concern. I have made it my concern!" Then, after quick pause, "Marry me."
What had been unflinching anger gave way to shock. With nothing to warn him of this unexpected change of direction, he had to shake his head to clear it. Stunned, John could not help but give expression to frank honesty, "I do not love you." Her ability to manipulate his emotions angered him once again, "And you, madam, are not capable of such a thing."
Her ladyship would not be dissuaded, and knew instinctively that direct reference to Arabella would not help win her cause, "Take a mistress if you must."
Just when it seemed he would most likely explode in anger, John grew strangely calm, his eyes lost their focus, "My mother..." He stopped for a moment, wondering at his candor. His voice was unsteady as he continued, "My mother was a mistress. It did not go well with her. I will take no mistress, madam!"
"You would have no need of one, I promise you," Her voice was breathless, soft, pleading.
Mesmerized by the sound of it, John met her gaze. Never before had he heard such open, honest entreaty. And to hear it from this unlikely source! Searching Daphne's eyes, he tried in vain to read her motives, to find meaning behind such apparent disparity.
Feeling the intensity of his gaze, and understanding his unspoken question, Daphne stepped slowly forward, and reached out her hand to caress his cheek. John drew sharp breath and closed his eyes. The scent of lavender filled the air.
"I do love you, John," she whispered, "There is no other reason. All the others, they smile and nod when I say two and two are five. You only speak truth to me," Lady Armbruster closed all distance between them. Silk touched wool. Her lips, a mere inclination away, were now his for the taking. Daphne continued to whisper, though John no longer knew what she was saying. Her words caressed his neck, her exhalations were languid summer sighs. The effect was heady, intoxicating, and John felt himself starting to fall.
Like many young men his age, Barrow was no cloistered innocent, but his past experiences had been few, and by no means completely satisfying. Though savoring the profound give and take of physical pleasure, he would invariably be left feeling like a starving man who goes to bed dreaming of a feast, and is all the worse for waking up in the morning. Concluding that he was not well suited for unalloyed passion, for fire untempered by gentler emotion, John had promised himself to forgo such futility. Until he took a wife.
And now, here was this beautiful woman who had all the world to give, and was begging to give it freely. She who had so much on her side, independent wealth conjoined to a staggering annuity, an ancient family name and valuable social connections, was willing to share with someone who had little to give in return. He would certainly not have his love to offer her. Could he ever love her? Would it really matter in the end?
You fool! On impulse he thought, You have loved in vain and are promised to no one. The physical man sought release, and presented his reasoning. Why not take what is offered? As John pondered this question he raised his eyes. Directly across from him was a mirror. His reflection showed desire plainly written, as well as doubt. And something else. Startled by what it was, John felt shame and quickly turned away.
It was as if his father's face was looking back at him.
Lady Armbruster saw change, saw weakness strengthen into firm resolve, and knew that she had lost. Her fingers traced the outline of his cheek one last time as she brought her hand back down to her side. What a prize he might have been, this man who would not be bought. Without parting word or glance, John turned and walked away. As Daphne listened to his receding footfall and quick decent down the main staircase, she was aware that whatever tender emotion had been newly born in her heart was now lying trampled in the dust. And, she must acknowledge, there was no one but herself to blame.
Initial disappointment was checked, however, as she reminded herself just how overrated were love and marital felicity.
Chapter 25
The next day, John received a bank draft from Lady Armbruster. Its total was more than twice what his fee would have been. There was initial conflict. The gentleman demanded that he return what was so obviously not his own. The businessman argued that, in terms of aggravation and heartache, he had earned every penny. The man warned that he was best advised to avoid another encounter with the lady, for if she persisted, John doubted he possessed the strength to walk away again. Making quick work of his moral dilemma, Barrow deposited the full amount. He was now five hundred pounds richer, immeasurably wiser, and more acutely aware of his loneliness than ever before.
Attempting to repair bridges that he knew not how were damaged, John wrote several times to Arabella. His letters went unanswered. And perhaps this was just punishment, for his recent actions seemed to prove that his heart had not been entirely true. Though not giving way to the temptation, there must have been some element there to tempt him in the first place.
And what was it that Arabella would not tell him?
Barrow felt the need for change. For the first time since his independence, John had to admit that he was profoundly unhappy, and that something must be done. In the past, there had always been his profession to balance the scale for, if nothing else, John could be happy doing his job. Now, he no longer felt even that satisfaction. A feeling of restlessness was overtaking him, making it difficult to concentrate. He was losing his sharp mental edge. Searching for an answer, he was beginning to believe that his means of living, once a safe haven, might in fact be the present cause of his unhappiness. If business continued apace, financial independence would doubtless be his in less than twenty years. But at what cost? For every dilemma of a professional nature he could rely upon his former mentor, but there was no one he could pour out his heart to. Or was there?
When he first retired, Sir John Murdock had extended an open invitation for Barrow to visit his country estate at any time, and a warm welcome always awaited him when he came. With no pressing business at hand, John thought that this might be an excellent time to pay his mentor a visit.
The older man was happy for the company. Seated over tea he took stock of the young man as he always did, and his assessment was not good. Care worn and haggard, Barrow looked as though he bore the weight of several men. In short, he looked very much like a certain young Lord Thorne once did, twenty-two years ago. As a result of his being so determinedly unwilling to admit to any curiosity about his father, John knew very little about him. He would have no way of knowing just how like they were in many ways.
Sir John on the other hand, did know, and his heart went out to him, "I can see that we're in need of a talk, you and I."
Barrow often wondered how Sir John seemed able to catch his every mood. Seated comfortably in the drawing room, he loosened his cravat, glanced down at his now lukewarm tea, and wondered how best to broach the topic. He did not want to appear ungrateful.
"I am considering a change sir. As I've already received excellent training, again all thanks to you, I'm thinking that I might pursue the law. I've saved up enough to allow for transition, and will attempt to get called to the bar."
Sir John's brow arched. Now this I did not expect. What's the cause? Knowing full well that Barrow would prefer a minute at the gallows to years of playing toady for some musty gaggle of ancient barristers, he suspected that this was not the real reason for John's visit, and that the young man was taking an around about way to get to the point. Sir John decided to keep silent. It will come out soon enough.
As though in confirmation of this, Barrow continued after a lengthy cessation, "I would like to ask you a personal question sir. You'll tell me if I'm out of line," a brief pause ensued, as John looked earnestly at his mentor, "Was it your profession that prevented you from ever marrying?"
Ha! So now we get to the heart of the matter. I knew it would come down to this. The older man snorted in mild derision, "Profession? Hardly!" One look in John's direction showed the younger man hanging on his every word. He must not make light.
Sir John pondered for a short while before continuing, "No John, far from it. In at least one instance, when I had been granted the attentions of a very worthy lady, I had only my stupidity to blame. I never took the time to court her properly, and she eventually lost patience with me. Married a baronet I believe, the better for her. In retrospect, I'm not absolutely certain that my nature lends itself to such a close bond. You, on the other hand... I think you will do better to marry. I doubt that you need to hear this from me, but you have no constraints. You're free to marry where you wish." Sir John looked at Barrow closely, "I'm rather surprised that you haven't done something about your Miss Smith by now."
This was encouragement enough. The man who had by turns served as guardian, mentor and father, would now act as friend. Moving his chair closer to his companion, and the warmth of the fire, John spent the next two hours condensing his activities of the past five months.
"So, you tangled with Lady Armbruster did you? From what I understand she wields a mighty sword. Don't despair John, you've proven your mettle. As for the other lady... I believe that she has every reason to be cautious."
Barrow's initial response was shock, his eyes were questioning. Sir John's brow raised a notch as he continued, "So, you do not know. What do you want, idle gossip, or what I firmly believe to be the truth?" Yes lad, I made it a point to know.
"Nothing from you sir! I think I would like to hear it from the lady!"
"So then, I take it that you've been entirely candid regarding your situation, and given Miss Smith every occasion to speak freely to you?" Sir John found himself losing patience with his friend, "Your opportunities were there John, yet you squandered them! A lady's stakes are always higher. You've made this difficult for her!"
It took but an instant to pass from anger to acknowledgment. He's right. I have been a fool, worse yet a selfish one. John considered how much of his unhappiness had been brought on by himself. And worse, how much unhappiness he might possibly have given to the woman he loved.
Seeing that the truth weighed heavily on the young man, and that his point had been made, Sir John had but one further hint to give, "She's a good woman. Should another opportunity present itself I suggest that you seize it." He now spoke in lighter tones, "This is a taxing enterprise John, and I have exhausted my meager store of advice on the subject. You can at least derive some comfort from the fact that you're certainly not alone. Most of us will, at some point, play the ass when it comes to a woman. As such," Sir John paused in advance of his wit, "all we can do is bray... and hope for the best," he was rewarded by the sight of a smile, albeit a reluctant one, on the face of his companion.
"That was very bad sir."
The older man chuckled in agreement, "Yes it was! Men have been shot for less, I'm certain of it! But back to the point. You are young, John. Youth is impatient, and patience has never come naturally to you as it is. Make no change as yet. Wait it out. Find something to keep you occupied. And speaking of impatience, I hear that you lost William Todd."
John slowly combed slender fingers through his hair, a sure sign that this line of conversation generated marked embarrassment. Sir John softened his approach, "I understand that you spoke rather frankly of his noble lineage. Something about his father being 'the king of all costermongers', eh?" An uneasy smile from the young man generated another mild rebuke from the older one, "Come lad, there was no need to humiliate the man in public as you did."
Honestly contrite, John let out a sigh, "I cannot disagree with you sir, it was inexcusable. Nothing to blame but ill temper. I was ashamed of my actions the moment the words were out of my mouth, but it was too late to call them back," Another hint of a smile, "But I must admit sir that, just prior to shame, it felt marvelous indeed!"
Sir John laughed heartily, "Yes, I can imagine! The man is insufferable. Higher than His Royal Highness. Believe me, I was occasionally tempted to do the same."
"I've since had ample opportunity for regret. It will be some time before I have an inside at White's again."
"Perhaps. I have another contact, better than Todd. But I have no intention of throwing him to the wolf. What is it that you need to know?"
John's smile, though still small, was not forced this time, "To be honest, I'm interested in rumor and idle gossip. And in keeping myself occupied." John went on to detail his growing curiosity about his old friends Charles Bingley and Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was anxious to know what course their lives had taken, what sort of men they had become. Shortly after this, a footman came in to announce supper and the two friends went in to dine.
Chapter 26
After a short stay of ten days, Barrow returned to town restored and refreshed. Although very much a city man, he had new found appreciation for the healing effects of country life, and the obvious benefits of good companionship and sound advice. He felt a greater sense of optimism than he'd had in quite some time and even looked forward to sorting through the numerous business matters that had piled up for 'Mr. Blevins' in his absence. The stack of unopened mail on his desk was evidence that his services were needed, and he attacked the pile with renewed interest. One packet caught his notice based solely on its point of origination. It would appear that someone from the north, Liverpool to be exact, wanted his assistance. It wasn't often that one from so far away had cause to make a request of him. John broke the seal. It was from no one he'd ever heard of, a Mr. King. He quickly applied himself to its contents.
I have the guardianship of my niece who, upon the death of my father came into possession of a modest fortune. Suffice it to say that a young woman who has suddenly gone from having nothing, to having an independence of ten thousand pounds, will find the world fraught with unknown dangers. So it was with my niece.
Until last month, Miss King resided with my sister in a southern county. When her change in fortune became general knowledge, she chanced to gain the exclusive attention of an amourous, and eager, young man. This man, an officer stationed with a regiment quartered nearby, fashioned himself a gentleman with honest claims for my nieces affections, yet I remain true to my instincts which tell me that he is nothing more than a common fortune hunter. Due to his regiment's impending relocation to Brighton, he redoubled his efforts to pursue her. I had the good fortune to became privy to his activities before he could put any possible plan into action. My niece was removed from that country and is now staying with me.
My concern is that I have not improved her situation. As an unmarried man old enough to be her father, I am afraid that I make a rather undesirable companion for a young lady of her age. I am rendered even more unsuitable by my frequent absence, as I often have the misfortune to be away from home on business. All things considered, my present schedule provides frequent and ample opportunity for anyone seeking to take advantage of my young charge again. I saw the need to find someone who would look after her in my absence, and recently placed an advertisement for a lady's companion.
A letter arrived just yesterday from a woman who would appear to be all that I could ask for. Her name is Mrs. Younge, a widow from London. She has several references and everything appears to be order, but I am still not entirely satisfied. My request is simple. I want her thoroughly checked out. As a skeptical man I cannot help but wonder at someone so mature and so settled being willing to come such a distance for so little. The position does not pay overmuch, and it's duration is uncertain. If I were able, I would come to check on her myself, but I cannot.
You were particularly recommended to me by a trusted associate, who assured me of your ability to perform this service. I was also given a general idea of what your fee might be, and am both able and willing to pay your price. By availing myself of your assistance, perhaps I am using a barouche when a wagon would serve the purpose, but my feeling is that it is better to err on the side of caution...Dear Sir,
Barrow read no further. As he was feeling rather more like a barouche these days than the broken down wagon of a fortnight ago this letter caught his fancy. He placed it in his pile of correspondence requiring immediate attention.
The very next day John responded to Mr. King's letter. Anxious for resolution, this gentleman had enclosed two drafts of a contract, which John examined closely and found to be sound. They were signed, and one returned by express to Liverpool. Mundane business details out of the way, Barrow now set off in search of Mrs. Younge. But, as is often the case in detection, what would seem to be a simple matter suddenly became more complicated than expected. Either Mr. King had transcribed Mrs. Younge's direction incorrectly, or that settled and mature lady's companion was currently residing at the Bull and Crown on Edward Street.
John checked the slip of paper to see if he could possibly have misread. No, this was it. The Bull and Crown, a tavern catering to the down at heel element of a rather questionable part of town, would not seem to be the ideal residence for a would-be lady's companion. But, having seen far stranger things before, Barrow stopped at a discreet distance to take note. He had been careful to dress the part. Knowing Mrs. Younge's address would be taking him down somewhere near the docks (this fact alone was curious), it would be wise to fit in. Anything else would draw undue attention, impeding his ability to do his job, and possibly make him a mark for footpads in search of easy prey.
During the course of a half hour's observation, John noticed the passage of a small errand boy, a young lad of not more than six or seven years, darting in and out of the pub on a frequent basis. The boy would sometimes carry a pot or two of ale or the occasional bottle of spirits for delivery, but his most pressing duties seemed to carry him virtually empty handed in one particular direction, further down Edward Street. Curious about what might be found there, John set off to follow him. Not able to keep pace with such swift prey without drawing attention to himself, Barrow followed him over the course of two circuits. The boy's second journey led John to what appeared to be a boarding house, one that had seen better times. A middle aged woman with a decided air of authority answered the door. She took a slip of paper from the boy, who then turned and ran back towards the tavern.
As he passed by, John stopped his progress, "You there! Is Mrs. Younge at home?"
"An' who wants ta' know?" With dirty face upturned, the young boy was taking John's measure.
John smiled inwardly at so much audacity in so small a package, "I do, you little ruffian!"
The boy pointed down the street to the house he'd just left, "She was just at the door there. Are ye' blind?" Any impatience at being accosted by this stranger was apparently dispelled as John pressed a tuppence into his hand. The boy then turned, and with redoubled speed continued on his rounds.
From what he had observed so far, John could see that his client had valid cause for concern. With curiosity peaked, John soon left his post to prepare a course of action. As he passed the tavern he ventured a surreptitious glance, but could see nothing. At the same time, within the pub a small hand tugged at a sleeve and pointed a finger. And a broad shouldered, muscular young man took note.
The young man peering out of the tavern's soot smeared window tracked John Barrow's progress until he turned a corner. It was this man's business to take note of such things, for too much could be lost through carelessness. One thing he did not like was to lose, especially where money was concerned. Strictly speaking, he was employed by the Bull and Crown, one of several hired to keep order in this rough and tumble place, but his ties to a certain boarding house and the lady running it were crucial to all involved. His name was Albert Younge.
Bert could remember a time when his mother's surname changed with great regularity, as she adopted the name of whoever she was with at the time. She'd had Younge the longest, though that man was long gone. It was as good a name as any other, so Bert took it as well. But his indifference towards his paternity was more than compensated for by his diligent concern for his mother. He now looked down at his small informant in such a way as to strike fear in most hearts.
"Let someone stop ye' again, ye' little rakehell, and I'll skin ye' alive."
But this small heart held no fear, "Ain't ye' a funny one! Ye'd have'ta catch me first!" And in a flash he was off again, bearing yet another communication for the lady of the house.