Unmasking the Thief, page 5
“That is what I thought,” Mrs. Dove said anxiously, “but now I look again, I am not so sure.”
“But you plan to open the connecting doors to the dining room, do you not?”
“Yes, that is the plan. The dowagers and people not dancing may chat or play cards in there while still keeping an eye on the young people. And a light supper will be served in the morning room across the hall. Do you really think it will work?”
“I see no reason why not. Unless you have invited half the ton. In which case, it will be pronounced a shocking, if literal, squeeze and be counted one of the great successes of the Season.”
“It’s all very well for you to laugh,” Mrs. Dove said morosely. “But I have Catherine to think of. We don’t have the space here to hold a ball, although the Gorses did offer to let us hold it in their house.”
“I think Catherine is happier with a smaller gathering.”
“I thought so, too, but it is more difficult getting the numbers and the mix of people just right.”
“Have you invited Mr. Granton?”
“Yes, but I’m starting to think that is a waste, for at Celia Maybury’s soiree last night he seemed to be all over that Carntree creature.” Mrs. Dove scowled. “I wish I hadn’t invited her either, but she does have a fashionable cachet. The others are mostly the younger set. Plus Viola and Dominic, of course, and the marquess. And the Darblays, which I hope doesn’t put anyone off, for Rollo isn’t quite the thing, is he? At any rate, they may not come, for apparently, Lord Darblay is under the weather.”
“Oh? Hope said nothing about that.”
“They probably keep it from her. My trouble is, people keep asking if they may bring other people, and I can hardly say no, so now I’m afraid there will be too many.”
“Perhaps not if the Darblays don’t come,” Matty soothed.
Mrs. Dove brightened. “That is true! Miss Mather, are you busy this afternoon? Would you mind overseeing this? I’m just not as organized as I should be, and you are so good at such things… And I feel I do need a lie down if I am to take Catherine to the theatre this evening.”
Chapter Five
Although Francisco refused to join Emma Carntree’s party at the theatre, his reason for going was certainly to watch her. From his seat in the pit, he kept an unobtrusive eye on her box to see who visited her, as well as to discover if she had any obvious acquaintances among the lower orders seated below with him. He half-suspected it for a fool’s errand, for he could not imagine Emma involving herself with the plight of the poor or powerless. Until he sauntered into her box during the first interval and found himself face to face with Sir Anthony Thorne.
It gave him a nasty moment, which he was far too experienced to show, merely allowing his amiable gaze to skim over him to Emma.
“Francis,” the lady exclaimed from the center of her admiring throng. She really did appear pleased to see him, throwing out her hand to him in a manner that cast several young men aside at once. “You came after all.”
As he approached, it struck him that a faint flush stained her cheeks. Of course, the candles and the number of people in the box made it too warm, but he suspected it had something to do with Thorne, which was interesting. Was Thorne her true interest? Was she embarrassed to have greeted Francisco so enthusiastically in front of the other man?
He bowed over her hand. Her smile was more restrained now, her gaze flickering from him to Thorne.
“Do you two know each other? Sir Tony, my old friend, Mr. Francis. Francis, Sir Anthony Thorne. I know you’ll have heard of him at least, for he is quite one of the leading lights of the cabinet these days.”
“My dear Lady Carntree, you flatter me,” Thorne said in tones of amusement. He offered one languid hand. “How do you do?”
At least Thorne had a proper grip rather than the limp two-fingered shake of some self-important acquaintances. Thorne was not self-important. Confidence and intelligence shone out of his good-natured yet serious eyes.
“Francis has recently returned from…somewhere or other,” Emma said with a careless wave of one hand. “So he may not have heard of you.”
“You malign us both,” Francisco said with a faint smile. “Of course, I have heard of Sir Anthony’s firm and decisive views.”
“You don’t agree with those views?” Sir Anthony asked with equal amiability.
By silent consent, they sat.
“I think holding back reform is a mistake,” Francisco admitted, poking the tiger just to see what would happen.
“Then you have missed my point. Reform is absolutely necessary. But it cannot be by mob rule, or we risk a revolution here like the one we spent decades fighting in France. Once the country is quiet, then is the time for serious, even radical reform of everything from representation to poor laws and taxes.”
“Is the country not quiet?” Francisco asked with a hint of bewilderment.
“There is unrest all over, in the northern cities, in the countryside, even here in the capital. If you have been abroad, perhaps you are not aware of the seething turbulence.”
“I’m not,” Francis said bluntly.
Thorne smiled. “I can see you are something of a liberal by nature.”
Francisco lifted one eyebrow. “I don’t have a horse in that race. I am not remotely political. By nature.”
Thorne leaned forward, boyishly confiding. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mr. Francis. I am both political and liberal by nature. But reform must come from the top to be sustained.”
“If you say so.”
“Why are you talking politics at the theatre?” Emma demanded.
“Habit,” Thorne said with a grin. “Forgive us such ill manners.”
“But it is a timely reminder that the play is about to resume,” Francis said, rising and bowing to Emma. As he sauntered away, his gaze landed on one of the men who, he was sure, had accompanied Emma to Maida. He wondered if that was interesting or not.
Returning to his own seat in the pit, he considered Emma and Thorne. He could imagine Emma attaching herself to the man’s rising star, except she was married already, and had there not been something in the papers about Thorne’s betrothal to an heiress?
At the next interval, he watched Emma, escorted by Thorne, enter a box on the other side of the theatre. In it were a dowager, a debutante, and a handsome couple he was sure he knew. Well, he knew the male half. Lord Dominic Gorse, to whom his old friend Ludovic Dunne had once introduced him. Ludo had proved the man innocent of the murder of which he had been wrongly convicted.
Emma did not stay long. She held a polite conversation with the mother while Thorne engaged the debutante, who had a rather lovely smile and seemed vaguely familiar. Emma moved on to Gorse, but only briefly. Other people entered the box, and Emma and Thorne left to be seen a few boxes on, visiting someone else. Rather like a couple.
Interesting…
*
The following morning, Francisco walked round to visit his old friend Dunne. Once, they had studied law together. Since then, they had traveled in different directions, with Ludovic, a practicing solicitor, although he would have made an excellent barrister, too, and Frances pursuing more adventurous goals. But they retained their mutual love of puzzles and mysteries. It was notable that they both spent a lot of time investigating.
Dunne was now a family man, with a lovely wife, a stepson, and a baby daughter.
Without comment, the butler showed him immediately into the breakfast parlor, where the couple sat at table with young Tom. Since this was not Francisco’s first visit since returning to London, he was greeted with casual grins and an invitation to join them in breaking his fast. Which he did.
“What do you know,” he asked without much delay, “about Sir Anthony Thorne?”
Ludovic shrugged. “Nothing much. Good family, eldest son, but not a lot of wealth. Shrewd politician and apparent friend of the Prime Minister. Why?”
“I’m not sure,” Francisco admitted. “He bothers me. Do you know a family called Dove?”
“Yes, they’re Dominic Gorse’s family by marriage. Viola, his wife, is the eldest daughter. There’s also a son at school and, among the younger daughters, one making her come-out this Season. Why?”
Francisco encouraged some egg on to a piece of toast. “I believe there is some sort of party there this evening, and I would like to attend. I was hoping you could oblige me.”
While he ate, Ludovic held his gaze. “Why?”
“Someone I wish to keep an eye on will be there. But I am not acquainted with Mrs. Dove.”
Ludovic set down his coffee cup. “Is your interest personal or professional?”
“Professional,” Francisco admitted.
Ludovic’s brow twitched, a rare sign of unease. “I would not like you to upset the Doves. They are rather a charming family with nothing about them to interest you. They are not wealthy, and I suspect Viola’s marriage settlement keeps them afloat.”
“My interest is not the Doves, per se. Or at least not yet. I will be discreet, Ludo, and do my best not to upset your pets. Are you going to this party?”
Ludovic glanced at his wife.
“No,” Rebecca replied. “It will be primarily for Catherine’s sake, so we are of little interest. Yes, Tom, you may leave the table, but not until you’ve wiped your mouth with the napkin.”
Tom grinned, jumped to his feet, gave the speediest bow ever executed, and bolted out the door.
“I’ll take you round to Gorse on my way to the office,” Ludovic sighed. “I’m sure he and his wife will be going.”
Gorse received them in an untidy but rather pleasant library. He wore no cravat, and his hair stuck up slightly, but he welcomed them with casual amiability and waved them to chairs.
“I can’t stop,” Ludovic said. “But I shall leave Francis with you. He wants to ask a favor, and I only came to vouch for him. If he makes me regret it, you may kill him. Slowly. I will absolutely defend you.”
*
“How was the play last night?” Matty asked Catherine when they met over luncheon the following day. Luncheon was served in the morning room since that was where the dining table now stood.
“Oh, it was excellent,” Catherine replied with a spark of enthusiasm. “I do enjoy Shakespeare.”
“Mr. Granton paid us a visit,” Mrs. Dove said. “Paid particular attention to Catherine.”
“He paid particular attention to Lady Carntree in another box entirely,” Catherine said wryly.
“It’s a fashion,” Mrs. Dove said with a shrug. “When Viola came out, the same kind of attentions were being paid to dear Grace Wenning, and we know there was nothing untoward in that.”
“Perhaps we could be at the party, too,” Arabella suggested. “After all, I’m almost sixteen, and if it is a small affair—”
“It isn’t that small,” Mrs. Dove said firmly. “You will not attend. And you will not make Miss Mather’s life unbearable by pestering her or trying to pull the wool over her eyes.”
“We couldn’t pull the wool over Miss Matty’s eyes,” Susan said gloomily.
“Then there’s no point in trying. Oh, and you must keep Pup out of the way. He can’t stay in the kitchen, or he’ll cause havoc, so he must stay in the schoolroom or your bedchamber until our guests have departed.”
“We’ll try,” Arabella assured her mother. “But, Mama, why can’t Miss Matty attend the party?”
Matty almost choked on her soup.
“Because clearly, she needs to keep watch over you.” Mrs. Dove patted Matty’s arm. “Not that you wouldn’t be an asset to the party, my dear, but the fact is outweighed by the horror of these two and Pup invading the drawing room.” She fixed both her youngest daughters with a glare. “This is to a civilized party for Catherine, not a fairground circus!”
In an effort to prevent any such fairground events, Matty declared a long walk for Pup as the main event of the afternoon. Fortunately, Viola, now Lady Dominic Gorse, arrived to help her mother with the preparations, so Matty marshaled the younger girls off with Pup for a march around the parks.
They were almost at Hyde Park before she realized that Catherine had joined them. “I thought you were helping your mama.”
“Viola will keep her calmer, and I need to walk.”
Matty relinquished Pup’s leash to Arabella and fell back beside Catherine. “Is something wrong?”
Catherine cast her a lopsided smile. “Something else? No, nothing is wrong, and I have committed no further follies, to my knowledge. I have just been overwhelmed by the…the shallowness of all this. I know the Wennings, Viola and Dominic, even Lord Sedgemoor, and my mother are all making sacrifices so that I can enjoy a Season, but the thing is I don’t think I do enjoy it.”
“In what ways?” Matty asked. “I thought you liked to dance and go to the plays and meet new people.”
Catherine tugged impatiently at her bonnet ribbons, seeming to struggle for words to explain her feelings. “Meeting new people is interesting. Or at least it was. But they don’t seem to matter. At home, I knew everyone, and they will always be friends. Here… People notice you and then forget you. They are not interested in me but in the possibilities of my connections and whether or not those would make up for my small dowry.”
“Some might think like that,” Matty allowed. “There are self-serving, greedy people everywhere. But you also know people who are not like that. Lord Dominic, for example. You just aren’t well enough acquainted with the ton to sort the wheat from the chaff.”
“Is Mama?”
“Perhaps,” Matty said diplomatically. “But Lady Wenning is also due in London any day. And other friends like Lord Dominic and Mr. Darblay will at least know who not to trust. Is this about Mr. Granton?”
Catherine shook her head. “No. Well, sort of. Mama and I both had hopes of him as a suitor, which is why Hope and I went to spy on him at Maida. At least, I thought that was why we went. But in truth, I barely noticed him there. It was the adventure with Hope that was fun. At least until that awful man stole Hope’s ring. And later, when I saw Mr. Granton flirting with Lady Carntree at the theatre, I suddenly realized that not only did I not care, but I was actually relieved. I don’t want to marry Mr. Granton. In fact, I don’t think I want to marry anyone I’ve met in London or am likely to meet.”
“Then don’t. You are seventeen years old, Catherine. You needn’t make such decisions yet. This is a Season to meet people, not to catch any old husband.”
Catherine regarded her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure Mama sees it that way.”
“Your mama wants you to be happy. She wants opportunities for you, not to palm you off on someone you don’t like.”
“Opportunities,” Catherine repeated, considering. “Perhaps that is a better way of looking at things. But there are opportunities other than marriage, even for young ladies. Like you, Miss Matty. I think I would make a better governess than a wife.”
“Well, you are interested in learning,” Matty allowed with a hint of unease. “But you must not assume every family taking on a governess is as kind as yours. Before I came to you, I was not always well treated. I was despised and overworked and… Well, I need not go into that. And you need not consider such a fate either.”
Catherine’s gaze was unexpectedly sharp. “Why did you become a governess, Matty?”
“Because I had no choice.”
“You are clearly a lady. Did you have no chance to marry?”
With an unpleasant jolt, Matty recalled the letter she still had not answered. She would rip up the rambling nonsense and come straight to the point. And she would stay in her position for as long as she was needed.
“Almost,” Matty admitted. “I was flattered, for he was considered the catch of the neighborhood—handsome, clever, ambitious, from an old, respected family.”
“What happened?”
Matty smiled. “Nothing, of course. I didn’t understand that he needed to marry money, and I didn’t have any.”
“So he was just trifling?” Catherine said indignantly. “I think we should send Dominic to seek him out and—”
Matty laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would have made him a terrible wife. And more to the point, I would have hated to be married to him. One can be misled by one’s own feelings, especially in youth.”
“Like me with Mr. Granton. He was never serious, was he?”
“Probably not for more than a few dances. You are very pretty and appealing, my dear, but you would be wasted on the likes of Mr. Granton.”
“As you would have been wasted?”
“Exactly.”
Catherine laughed and took her arm. “Look, Arabella has unclipped Pup’s leash. Be prepared to run.”
Matty hoped their talk had helped Catherine. Unexpectedly, it had helped her, too. As soon as they returned from Pup’s long walk since there was no point in even trying to begin new lessons with the girls, Matty shut herself in her bedchamber. She seized the letter she could never quite bring herself to send and tore it into tiny pieces.
She was almost nine-and-twenty years old. She was not going to wheedle and equivocate or allow her sister to walk blind into the same trap she almost had.
My dearest Mama,
I could not be happier for Marion’s good fortune, all the more welcome, I am sure, for being so unexpected. I, for one, fully expected Great-Aunt Horatia to leave all her money to the orphanage!
Although we must always regret my great-aunt’s passing, I rejoice that this legacy has given Marion the greatest of gifts: the ability to choose the direction of her life. Obviously, the choice is not mine, but since you ask me, I would advise unequivocally against her accepting Sir Anthony Thorne’s offer of marriage. As you point out, the man was once all but engaged to me, so you must allow me to know his character. Please consider the timing of his courtship, so soon after Marion inherited Great-Aunt’s legacy and recall that he has already run through his late first wife’s fortune.
Never imagine this advice as my “sour grapes.” Like you, I care about my sister’s happiness.
