The Man in the Green Coat (10 page)

“You are? I had not realised your position was so exalted! I thought you a courier.”

He looked a little embarrassed. “Of course it is not necessary for me to run errands in person. To tell the truth, I do it for my own pleasure, for a change of scene. The business is fascinating, but I do not care to spend my entire life in an office.”

“Naturally. It is most commendable that you choose to do useful work at all. It is not common in gentlemen of your rank.”

Mr Everett accepted her praise with a feeling of guilt but without demur. It would be most improper to reveal that his father’s gambling had driven him to seek gainful employment.

“By the bye,” he said as they turned onto a drive beside the Serpentine, “How much have you told Gerard about my activities?”

Gabrielle was gazing out over the grey, wind-ruffled water, remembering the Lac de Neuchâtel sparkling in the sun. A proud mother mallard bobbed by, followed by six fluffy ducklings.

“Look!” cried Gabrielle. “Are they not adorable?”

“You are not listening,” said her companion severely.

“Yes I am, indeed I am. You asked how much I have told Gerard. The answer is nothing. It has been difficult, but it seemed to me better than he should not know. And Madame Aurore does not even know about my being shot.”

“You are quite discreet enough to be a spy yourself, Miss Darcy. Thank you. I should not like to think that the story had reached Sir Oswald Harrison.”

“Madame never speaks to Sir Oswald if she can help it, so you are quite safe there. Why is it important that he, in particular, should be kept in ignorance?”

“No real reason. Only that he is constantly snooping around my office. He seems to believe that because his father worked there, he is entitled to know exactly what we are doing. As a matter of both policy and pride, the less he finds out the better.”

“He will learn nothing from me, I promise.”

“Have you met him?”

“No, and after hearing what you and Madame have said of him, I have no desire to do so. She dislikes him amazingly.”

“His is not a prepossessing character.”

They turned away from the Serpentine, heading back towards the park gates. There was quite a crush of carriages and riders now. They stopped several times to exchange greetings with acquaintances, mostly Mr Everett’s, but a few whom Gabrielle had met the night before. She was beginning to feel more at home in London.

“On the whole,” she said consideringly, “I am glad to discover that you are in charge of your office and not merely a courier. I daresay I should not say so, for you are sufficiently set up in your own conceit, and always ready enough to issue orders to all and sundry. But even though no one else suspected it, it was sadly lowering to my dignity to drive out with an errand boy!”

“Wretch!” said Mr Everett, grinning.

* * * *

The next two weeks passed in a whirl. There were balls and routs, masquerades and musicales, riding and driving in Hyde Park, a picnic in Richmond Park, morning calls and shopping expeditions. Gabrielle and Madame Aurore were seldom home; nor was Gerard, who had found his own friends and gone his own way.

In fact, Gabrielle saw more of Alain de Vignard, who frequently escorted them, than of her brother. Among her other new friends and acquaintances, Lady Cecilia and the Honourable Dorothea Everett often attended the same parties, and they had even paid a morning visit to Russell Square. With Lady Cecilia approving her, the starchiest of matrons ceased to question her gentility, and soon there were as many young ladies calling as admiring gentlemen.

Though Gabrielle had more in common with livelier damsels, she made a special effort to get to know Dorothea. The girl was not at all shy in female company, but when addressed by a gentleman she was reduced to monosyllabic acquiescence. She was given to quoting her half brother as an authority on propriety and correct behaviour, which so annoyed Gabrielle that she tackled Mr Everett.

“Your sister takes your slightest suggestion as the word of God,” she said. “I am sure such submissiveness cannot be healthy.”

Eyes icy, lips thinned, he said curtly, “Thank you for your solicitude, Miss Darcy, but my relationship with Dorothea is none of your business.”

After such a set-down, she was out of charity with him for several days.

It was during this period that Alain invited her to walk with him in Kensington Gardens one sunny morning. Lady Harrison sent her abigail, Marie, to act as unwilling chaperone. Muttering complaints, she followed them down paths between flowerbeds bright with purple stock and orange pot-marigolds. Early roses scented the air.

As they entered a shrubbery, they came face to face with Dorothea Everett, accompanied only by her maid. She blushed scarlet, and Alain started back with an air of surprise so patently false that Gabrielle wanted to laugh. She contented herself with saying,

“How do you do, Miss Everett. Is it not a beautiful day? Do you care to join us for a turn about the gardens?”

‘Oh, yes!” exclaimed Dorothea. “I mean, thank you, that would be delightful, Miss Darcy.”

In no time she was clinging to Alain’s arm and the two of them were deep in conversation, quite forgetting Gabrielle’s presence as they wandered on. She strolled behind them, irritated to find herself without an escort other than the two maids, but pleased to see Dorothea getting on so famously with a gentleman, any gentleman. The fact that she was fairly certain that Mr Everett would disapprove only added spice to the situation.

She was still annoyed with him, but however many elegant and witty gentlemen she met, she still liked him better than the rest. She forgave him his snub; he, it seemed, forgave her impertinence. He persuaded Lady Cecilia to invite Lady Harrison and her young guests to join them in their box at the theatre.

On this occasion, Gabrielle made the acquaintance of Lord Everett. The baron, a hearty, good-natured man, was up from Kent to transact some business in town. He was a good deal older than his wife, but she was delighted by his arrival and he obviously adored her.

Gabrielle liked him immediately, though she was somewhat disconcerted to find him, more than once, staring at her and Gerard with a puzzled look on his face. Gerard, to be sure, was not looking his best. His face was pasty and there were dark rings about his eyes she had not noticed before. She herself was dressed in a new gown of lilac barège, vastly becoming, and her hair had at last grown to a respectable length. Mr Everett had complimented her on her charming appearance, and she did not see why his father should stare so.

There were several empty boxes in the theatre. London was beginning to grow thin of company as the season drew to an end and the Haut Ton headed for the country. Lady Cecilia enquired after her children, and remarked with great satisfaction that it would be delightful to see them all again in a few weeks.

“Will it not be pleasant to be back at Wrotham, Dorrie?” she asked.

“I hope Dorrie will not find it dull after the gaiety of London,” said her father fondly.

“Oh, no, Papa!” cried Dorothea, but Gabrielle thought she did not seem happy at the prospect.

Gabrielle herself was not looking forward to spending the summer in London. Already the streets were dusty, the heat oppressive at noon on a fine day. She remembered with regret the clean neatness of Neuchâtel, the cool breeze blowing off the sparkling lake, the green meadows and the chime of bells every evening as the patient cows came slowly home for milking.

“You look as if you were a thousand miles away,” Gerard whispered in her ear. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing important. Only I wish Papa would come!”

“So do I!” he agreed feelingly.

Chapter 9

The next day, after breakfast, Gabrielle went to Madame Aurore’s chamber to bid her good morning and discuss their plans for the clay. Marie opened the door to her knock.

“
Entrez,
mademoiselle,” she said, her face if possible sourer than usual. “One must hope that you can do something to aid milady.”

Dismayed, Gabrielle saw that Madame Aurore was weeping, her plump face crinkled and pink as the bed hangings. She ran to the bed and hugged her, heedless of the scattered papers she brushed onto the floor.

“Dear Madame, what is it?” she demanded. “Have you had bad news? Tell me, pray tell me at once!”

Lady Harrison sniffed and wiped her eyes with the dainty lace handkerchief she was clutching.

“It is these bills, chérie. There are so very many, and I hoped they would wait until the end of the quarter, but today comes a dun from the coal-seller, of all people, and you know the chandler was threatening me until Gerard paid him, and the bailiffs will be here by the end of the week and I shall be lucky if I am not clapped up in the Marshalsea!”

“Surely not! It is scarce two weeks until quarter day. They must be persuaded to wait. Has Gerard been over your figures, as he promised?”

“I gave him all my bills, and the key to the desk in the library where Sir Cosmo kept his important papers. But he has been excessively busy, chérie. I daresay he has not had time to look at them.”

“If he has not, he will have me to answer to,” said Gabrielle grimly. “I shall go and ask him at once.”

There was no answer when she knocked on the door of the chamber Gerard still shared with Alain. She peeped in. One bed was empty, rumpled. In the other her brother sprawled on his stomach, a pillow hiding his head, clasped to him by one arm.

She went to the window and flung open the curtains. Then she seized the pillow and pulled it away from him.

“Wake up, lazy bones,” she cried.

He groaned and tried to burrow under the blankets.

“Come on, Gerard,” she said, exasperated. “Madame Aurore needs you. Wake up.”

“Go ‘way. My head hurts. I can’t think at this hour of the morning.”

“Your head hurts? You are not ill, are you?”

“No. Be a good girl, Gab, and go away.”

“I believe you have been drinking! Is that it?”

“What if it is?” he said sulkily, sitting up at last with another groan. “Draw the curtains, the light is too bright. Everyone drinks. I was only a little disguised, not completely foxed. What do you want? Can’t it wait?”

“No. Madame Aurore thinks she is about to be dragged off to prison. Have you been over her accounts yet?”

“Yes, and they’re damned fishy. I’m not saying she doesn’t spend a pretty penny, because she does. But I found a copy of Sir Cosmo’s will in the desk, and her jointure should cover her expenses easily. It’s my belief that what’s-his-name, her stepson, is chousing her out of what’s due to her.”

“Oh Gerard, how dreadful! Are you sure? Whatever can we do about it?”

“Don’t ask me. Now go away and let me sleep.”

“But we must do something! At least let us give her enough to pay the bills until the end of the month. We are hanging on her sleeve just like all the others. How much can we spare?”

“I don’t know. You can’t expect me to keep a track of what you are spending as well as checking Madame’s figures. I’m not a clerk.”

“You must have some idea, though. We must help her even if it means you can not join the army until Papa comes.’’

“I’m not going to join the army. If you want to know the truth, that money is spent already.” He flopped down on the bed again with his back to her.

“Spent! We cannot have spent so much! I have made all my own dresses and I have bought very little otherwise. Where has it all gone?”

“I’ve lost it.” Gerard’s voice was muffled in the pillow. “I’ve lost close to a thousand pounds. On wagers. All the fellows squander the blunt as if there were no tomorrow, betting on raindrops running down the window pane, and how many minutes late the Bristol Mail will be, and stuff like that. When I’m with them, I just don’t notice it going. I’m sorry, Gabrielle. I’m truly sorry. I went to see Mr Dickens at Hoare's Bank yesterday, and he says we have forty pounds left.”

Her legs weak with shock, Gabrielle sat down on the edge of the bed. She laid her hand on his shoulder and felt it trembling.

“It’s all right, little brother,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake. “It’s all right. Just give me time to think! Forty pounds, and Madame will get her allowance at the beginning of next month. Gerard, you must help me. What are Madame’s biggest expenses?”

“Running the house. Coal and candles, of course, and servants’ wages and such. And you wouldn’t believe how much the spongers who live here eat! Alain is the only one who pays any of his own expenses. Madame hardly spends a thing on herself. You know she doesn’t even keep a carriage, but takes a hackney or a chair when she goes out.”

“How selfish we have been!” said Gabrielle wretchedly. “I have been so taken up with enjoying myself, I never once thought that she might really be short of money. When Marie groused, I thought she was just being bad-tempered as usual.”

“What shall we do?” Gerard sat up again. “I wish Papa were here!”

“But he is not, so we must think for ourselves.” Gabrielle hugged him.

He put his arms around her and held her tight, whispering into her hair, “I’m so sorry, Gab. It’s all my fault.”

“Well, I will let you take most of the blame for our problem, but not for Madame’s. If Sir Oswald is really cheating her, you may be instrumental in saving her. So go back to sleep now, and by the time you awake, maybe I shall have found a solution.”

“You’re the best sister in the world! I’ll do anything you say, I promise.”

Gabrielle slowly made her way back to Lady Harrison’s chamber, thinking hard. There were three important points: to persuade the most pressing creditors to wait just two more weeks; to cut expenses immediately; and to start an investigation of Sir Oswald’s financial finagling.

The first could probably be dealt with by offering a few pounds on account, though it would sadly deplete their small reserve.

As far as Sir Oswald was concerned, she would consult Mr Everett, who already disliked the baronet and would know how to go about instigating an enquiry.

And to save money, they must close up the town house and find a cottage in the country that could be rented cheaply for the summer. Gabrielle smiled as the idea came to her. At one stroke that would dispose of the unwanted guests, remove Gerard from the temptations of London, and provide a pleasant retreat for the long, hot summer months.