A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) (22 page)

“Verity looks better than last I saw her too – she was so terribly worried about you, Chuffy.”

“I know, Mama,” he soothed her, “and I have given an undertaking never to put her through such torment again.”

She brightened considerably at this comment, “You intend to stop all this silly business of solving murders, then? I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear it!”

He did not have chance to disabuse her of this notion for at that moment Rutherford Petch and his sister Cressida entered the ballroom, with Miss Fettiplace panting a little in their wake. She had put on more weight since the year before and was now quite rotund. She evidently found their youthful vigour hard to keep pace with and was pink and breathless by the time they crossed the room and joined the Underwood party.

Introductions had just been exchanged when Freddie Meadows joined them, having been supplanted in Violette’s arms by Piers Elliott, who had stepped forward to claim his dance. Gallantly he instantly invited Cressida to join him on the floor and she blushingly agreed. She had not enjoyed much of a social life in the past few years, for once her brother had been tried, found guilty and transported to Australia, she had found it hard to hold up her head in polite company. Besides which, her cousin Luckhurst had fully intended to make her his wife and so get his greedy hands on the Greenhowe estate, so he too had severely curtailed her desire to fraternize with other young people. He had been terrified that some young buck would sweep her off her feet, for he was an uninspiring suitor, interested only in money. 

Her sudden freedom from an engagement she had not desired, and the return of her vindicated brother had changed her life but she had not assimilated the true depth of the alterations and was still shy and a little introverted.

Freddie Meadows, for all his bravado, was similarly crippled with fear of his own inadequacies, for his eyesight, while not completely gone (for which he fervently thanked God) it was so poor as to be negligible. He was brash enough in the company of the other Wablers, whom he knew he could rely upon to take care of him, albeit sporadically, but when in the presence of anyone in the ‘petticoat line’ – a female of marriageable age – then he was quite as inept as Underwood.

Cressida, relieved to find someone who did not expect her to flirt outrageously, nor deliver ripostes with sparkling wit and verve, was only too happy to converse pleasantly with this quietly handsome young man, whose black eye-patch gave him the slightly sinister air of a pirate without the terrifying manner to go with it.

Freddie was similarly delighted to find a woman who listened when he spoke to her, seemed to find him a fascinating conversationalist and gave intelligent, but not bookish, responses to his questions and comments. Close to he could also see that she was pretty in a soft and appealing way.

One dance quietly melded into two and no one even noticed that they spent the rest of the evening together, enchanted by each other and having no interest in anything occurring around them.

Despite the young lovers being oblivious of events in the Assembly rooms, plenty was happening as the evening wore on.

Supper passed off quietly, but since that was the time when most of the men slaked their thirst on strong liquor, the aftermath tended to get out of hand quickly if anything caused an upset. Fortunately when this particular angry scene exploded, it was in the card room and most of the ladies were unaware of it, except those redoubtable old women who no longer cared to dance and preferred to gain their thrills at the gaming tables.

If either Underwood or Thornycroft had been present, they would have ensured that John Pennyfather and Bertram Swann did not sit to the same table and play cards against each other. The simmering undercurrent of resentment which existed between the pair was bound to erupt into fury when one or the other lost and sadly it was Swann who saw his pile of golden guineas diminish rapidly.

Before anyone could step in to take the heat out of the situation, the pair were on their feet, throwing insults across the green baize table.

“Damn your eyes, Pennyfather, no one could be that lucky!”

“Are you accusing me of cheating?” the older man’s tone was dangerously calm.

“Take it any way you like, you card sharp.”

“If you weren’t half a man, I’d send my second to your door,” responded Pennyfather, finally losing the cool demeanour he had managed to maintain and giving way to the anger which he had endeavoured to bury deep until this moment.

“Don’t you worry your head about me, sir; I’m more than man enough to deal with you.”

Someone had had the foresight to send for Thornycroft and he arrived in the very nick of time. He pulled at the arm of his friend Swann, casting a darkling look in Pennyfather’s direction.

“We’ll have no need of seconds, you fellows. Strong drink talks boldly and neither of you want the sort of trouble that duelling will bring. Now, come away, before we are thrown out on the street for brawling.”

Swann allowed himself to be escorted away, and Pennyfather, breathing heavily and still puce in the face, sank back into his seat and called for another glass of daffy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

‘Medio De Fonte Leporum Surgit Amari Aliquid Quod In Ipsis Floribus Angat’ – Even in the midst of the joys of Spring, something bitter rises to give us grief amidst the flowers.

              The fracas, fortunately, had been short-lived. Jeremy James invited Swann to push his wheeled chair to the door of the Assembly Rooms to get some fresh air. This was rather complicated for the two drunken men, for it involved Jeremy James holding Swann’s crutch and Swann leaning upon the chair for support then guiding them both through various doorways and corridors, to the detriment of some china on one of the dining tables, and two or three unsuspecting gentlemen’s shins.

              When at last they reached their destination, the major sent Swann off home, extracting from him a promise that he would go straight back to his lodgings and sleep off the excess of alcohol and his bad temper.

              “But, dammit, Thorny, the man is insufferable! How could you bear to invite him to attend your party?”

              Thornycroft patiently pointed out that the invitation hadn’t been his, “Come now, Bertie, show a little sense. Adeline had no notion which of the fellows were my friends and the ones whom I barely know. Those who felt so inclined simply told their own cronies about the celebration and they all jumped at the chance to kick up their heels. Having seen the effort they have made to get here to wish me well, I can hardly be churlish enough to start turning away those who are not my choice, now, can I?”

              His younger companion was not in the mood to be conciliatory. Since the loss of his leg, the chances of his making a match with a decent woman of good family had grown further and further away. He had thought the elusive Miss Mills had been genuinely interested in him and it had been a body-blow to realize that she was merely toying with him, amusing herself by setting him against another man. The fact that she had disappeared as suddenly from Hanbury as she had appeared, leaving no forwarding address, had not helped his mood.  He shrugged dismissively, but voiced no more protests. Jeremy James took his silence as tacit agreement and slapped him heartily on the rump, since he could reach no higher from his chair, “Go home, you young pup, and sleep off your blue devils. I’ll speak to Pennyfather and warn him to keep out of your sight. He’s an arrogant upstart and I’ll tell him in no uncertain terms that if he sends you up into the boughs again, I’ll see him onto the stagecoach myself.”

              He handed over the crutch and watched the young man stagger off down the street, his one leg and wooden stump already made him unsteady without the added complication of excess drink.

              He now saw the flaw in his plan and as he sat wondering how he might manoeuvre his chair so that he might re-enter the Assembly Rooms as he needed someone to push him, he was hailed from somewhere behind him. He twisted his body to look around to see from whence the shout came.

              A rough-looking individual came into view, a broad grin on his face. He was dressed in his soldier’s uniform, but whereas most of Thornycroft’s other guests were resplendent in Officers’ garb, this fellow sported the less decorative clothing of the lower ranks. Not for him the gilded epaulettes and silver buttons, but he wore it with pride just the same.

              The major recognized him with some difficulty, for it had been fourteen years since he had seen him last, and then he had been younger and clean-shaven. This man sported a beard so bushy that it obscured most of his face.

              “Sergeant Sam Tredgett,” he announced with a smart salute as he drew near enough to Jeremy James to be seen clearly in the moonlight, and by the light that poured from the windows and doors of the Assembly Rooms.

              A smile appeared on Thornycroft’s face as he saw the man close to, “By gad, Sam, that’s quite a crop of face fungus you have there! Your own mother wouldn’t know you.”

              “She never would have done, since I never had one, beyond the age of five,” he said, holding out a hand to shake the major’s and then jerking his head to gesture towards the retreating figure of Swann, “Who was that, by the way?”

              “Young Bertie Swann. I think he may have been after your time.”

              Sam never made it to Waterloo having been injured and invalided out before that fatal day had dawned. He had lost two fingers from his right hand and was deaf in his right ear, making him a liability on the battlefield. He always cocked his head to catch the words of whoever was speaking to him, giving him the alert expression of a gundog.

              “Must have been. I didn’t know his face – but from what I could see, he looked like a green ‘un. Were they really taking them that young at Waterloo?”

              “I fear they were. Poor lad lost his leg at seventeen. Barely saw any action before he was cut down.”

              “He goes at a fair lick for a cripple,” observed Tredgett, watching Bertie hare off down the street as fast as his wooden leg and crutch would allow.

              “He’s angry,” said Jeremy James by way of explanation, “He thought he was being cheated at cards. He waved goodbye to quite a pile of goldfinches.”

              “And was he bubbled?” asked the old soldier cynically.

              The major shrugged, “Who knows? I should not be at all surprised. John Pennyfather has always sailed pretty close to the wind.”

              “Pennyfather!” exclaimed Tredgett, “There couldn’t be two with that name. If it is the rogue I’m thinking of, then cutting a sham on a Johnny raw would be the least of his sins.”

              “Tell me more,” said Thornycroft, still angry on his young friend’s behalf. If nothing else, Pennyfather had been appallingly insensitive with the maimed boy, so to hear that he might be capable of more transgressions that cheating a greenhorn would hardly be a shock and might give him the excuse he needed to send the fellow on his way before he caused any more trouble.

              “A list too long to tell, but amongst his other pretty habits, he was rather too fond of having the men under his command flogged for minor misdemeanours. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he got some enjoyment out of it.”

              Jeremy James hadn’t known Pennyfather particularly well, but when Tredgett said this, he began to have a vague recollection of whispers flying about certain unsavoury traits in Pennyfather’s character. He looked thoughtful as he said, “Be a good fellow, Sam, and push this damned chair back inside for me. There’s a drink in it for you.”

              “No need for payment, Major,” said Tredgett briskly. “You earned a favour or two, unlike some of your fellow officers.”

              They found most of the Wablers and some of the newcomers still in the card room. The music had stopped and most of the ladies were gathered in the foyer, reclaiming their cloaks, capes and pelisses from the serving wenches.

              When Underwood was called over to join his cronies by Thornycroft as he and Tredgett passed on their way to join the others, Gil, only too happy to escape more drinking and carousing, said hastily, “Go and have an hour with the Wablers, Chuffy. I will see the ladies home and send Toby back for you later.”

              In truth Underwood felt the need for nothing more than a cup of tea and his own bed, but he knew he would be ribbed unmercifully the following morning if he showed a clean pair of heels while there was still something left of the night, so he kissed his wife’s cheek, and undertook not to be late or intoxicated when he finally came home.

              Verity’s feet were throbbing with the endless dancing so she happily waved him off and allowed Gil to hand her into the waiting carriage.

              Since the dancing had finished and the ladies were preparing to leave, there were several more gentlemen in the card room, though only Captain Pennyfather and his crony Second Lieutenant Joshua Thickbroome were still sitting at the table, though the game was evidently either over or abandoned, as the cards were scattered, some face up others not. Underwood noted however that any coins or notes of hand had been safely gathered in.

              Roland Dickson hailed Underwood as he entered, “Snuff Underwood, the very man. I have been talking to one of your many admirers. He was most eager to meet you, but unfortunately had to go and see his sister safely back to their hotel.”

              “Really? And who might that be?” asked Underwood, more polite than interested. He was far too used to being teased unmercifully by the Wablers to take anything they said at face value.

              “Chap by the name of Gervase Sowerbutts. He couldn’t hear enough about your exploits.”

              Underwood assumed his usual vague expression, “The name rings a vague bell. Do I know him?”

              “I don’t think so. He only knows you by reputation, I think. You know how Hanbury is; a veritable hotbed of gossip – and you are the main topic of conversation.”

              “I take leave to doubt that. Did he say why he wanted to speak to me?”

              “No, he just seemed full of admiration for you – from the aura he gives off, I would guess he has developed a youthful fancy for you.” Dickson grinned unkindly and the other men in earshot gave voice to a volley of laughter and coarse remarks.

              Underwood had spent over twenty years as a tutor to boys just emerging into manhood in the unhealthy confines of a University. There was nothing left to shock him after being subjected to that heaving maelstrom of burgeoning masculinity. He had been the object in his time of misplaced passion, insulting apathy and unjustified hostility. Then as now he treated the entire subject with kindly indifference. 

              “He is probably an ex-student. Well, if he is so avid to make my acquaintance, no doubt he will find ample opportunity to do so.”

              His attention was fortunately drawn elsewhere, as indeed was everyone else’s, for a half-drunk Pennyfather had caught sight of the man who was pushing Jeremy James’ wheelchair into the card room. His eyes narrowed, as though to confirm what his unreliable sight was telling him.

              “Thornycroft, I was under the impression this celebration was for your fellow-officers. I didn’t realize we were entertaining the lower ranks of the regiment too.”

              Sam Tredgett simply met his antagonistic gaze dispassionately, “Good evening to you, Captain. I had not expected you to remember me.”

              “I don’t remember you,” said Pennyfather with a sneer, “but I recognize your uniform. Well, now you have performed your service for the major, you can take yourself off.”

              Sam ignored the dismissal, “Well, no, perhaps you wouldn’t know me. You knew my younger brother better. Does the name Isaac Tredgett mean anything to you?”

              The colour drained from Pennyfather’s face, and it was obvious to all those who observed this quiet exchange that he was having some difficulty maintaining his insouciant air, “Not a thing. You can scarce expect me to recall every young recruit who passed through my hands. There was nothing to mark them out – all as unclean as they were uneducated.”

              “Uneducated?” Sam savoured the word thoughtfully, “Aye, I suppose we were uneducated. Hoping for a better life by taking the King’s shilling. I know Isaac joined up full of enthusiasm and greener than most, being only fifteen. He never expected to fall under the command of a man who made his life so miserable that he preferred to put his pistol in his mouth and pull the trigger than to carry on.”

              The silence in the room was palpable.

              Pennyfather tried to laugh, but it was a hollow sound, “Can I help it if he was a snivelling little coward? It wasn’t me he was trying to avoid, but the heat of battle. He did not have the guts to face the enemy!”

              At least four men leapt forward to hold Sam Tredgett back, as he gave a roar of raw pain and launched himself towards the still seated Pennyfather.

              He fought them for a few seconds, desperately trying to break away and get his hands around the throat of the despised man, then he realized the futility of resistance. Even in his overwhelming fury he was not strong enough to fight off four ex-soldiers. He ceased to struggle and swallowed the bitter words that sprang to his lips, saying quietly instead, “All right, you fellows, you can let me go. Do you think I want to choke at the end of a rope for this worthless bastard? I’m leaving.”

              “Come and find me tomorrow,” said Thornycroft quietly, “I’ll be in the Pump Rooms from eleven o’clock.”

              Tredgett nodded, threw one last contemptuous glance towards Pennyfather, then left the room.

              In the silence that followed Pennyfather felt that he had to regain the respect of his ex-comrades and he did so in the only way he knew how, “Listening to that little exhibition of bile has reminded me that I have another score to settle. Josh, you will act as my second and go and seek out that young flat, Swann. I’ll have satisfaction for that accusation of cheating.”

“Thickbroome, get your friend out of here,” yelled Jeremy James, almost beside himself with anger.