Mrs. McVinnie's London Season (11 page)

The light was fading
fast. Edward leaned over the railing to get a better view, and
before Jeannie could even open her mouth to tell him to back away,
he overbalanced himself and dropped into the pit below.

“
Edward,” she shrieked, covering her eyes with her
hands.

There was silence in
the pit. The painter stopped humming. Jeannie forced herself to
peer over the edge of the pit.

Edward lay below her on
a pile of rotting hay. As she watched, her hands to her mouth, he
put his hands behind his head and grinned up at her.

The man in the pit set
down his brush. Without a word, he picked up Edward and heaved him
onto the elephant’s back.

Jeannie gasped and
clutched the handrail. The man below smiled up at her as Edward
clung to the reeking folds of the elephant’s skin and found his
seat.

“
It
seemed such a pity to waste a perfectly good elephant,” he said
matter-of-factly, as if he were discussing the virtue of one
boot-blacking over another. “Wouldn’t you agree, madam?”

Jeannie found her voice
and pounded on the railing. “I would not, you foolish piker!
Edward, get off that beast at once!”

The man laughed and
Jeannie felt the tears gather in her eyes. She brushed them away
angrily, as she heard another voice behind her.

“
Allow
me, madam. Really, Sir Peter.”

A tall man also dressed
in superfine walked toward her. His progress was almost stately,
even in that noisome zoo. She noticed that, as he came toward her,
the others parted to allow him passage, almost as though he were
royalty. He flicked out his handkerchief and wiped it carefully
over the rail before he placed his kid-gloved hand on it.

“
One
can never be too careful.” He motioned toward Edward, whose whole
attention was devoted to maintaining his balance on the elephant.
“Sir Peter Winthrop would wager that he could paint an elephant’s
ear blue. And who is to dispute him? They will have their fun, you
know.”

“
I
never heard a more totty-headed particle of reasoning,” Jeannie
snapped, not taking her eyes from Edward. “Surely you could find
something useful with which to occupy your time.”

The man leaned over the
railing. “Hold out your arms, that’s a lad.”

Sir Peter in the pit
prodded the elephant closer to the rail as Edward struggled to his
feet, wavered precariously, and held up his arms. With a quick
motion the man pulled Edward up and out of the pit. He took his
handkerchief again and dusted off his exquisite coat.

“
The
trouble of it is, madam, we can find nothing more
useful.”

“
Dowdy
women and dingy boys are such a bore,” Sir Peter said. He motioned
to one of the others. “There’s a good fellow, a little more blue
paint.”

Quicker than quick,
Jeannie picked up the bucket and dumped it over the railing. The
sounds of anguish that rose from the pit startled the elephant,
which did as all startled animals do, to the groans and laughter of
the dandies far out of reach.

The elegant gentleman
peered over the edge. “It appears that you are a trifle indisposed,
Sir Peter,” he said serenely.

The oaths from the pit
made Jeannie gasp. She grabbed Edward and started to the door. “I
am all right, Mrs. McVinnie,” Edward protested as she tightened her
grip on him.

She could not have
explained to Edward why she held him so tight. Despite her shame at
such an impulsive gesture, she was in the grip of anger so
startling that she could scarcely breathe. She could only think of
Thomas McVinnie, lying in his own blood on the beach at La Coruña,
dying so fops could carry out stupid pranks in London. The thought
was illogical and she knew it even as she struggled against the
pain.

The man who had rescued
Edward studied her face. “We did not mean anything by it, madam,”
he said. “It was a harmless wager, and nothing more.” His lips
twitched. “I will advise Sir Peter to stay out of menageries in
future.” She could not bring herself to say anything. The man came
closer. “We have caused you some pain, I fear. Do forgive us,” he
said, and his eyes were kind.

He came closer, and
Jeannie knew he intended to say more, but the lounger in the
doorway—he must have been the watch—sprang from carefully composed
lethargy into action. “The yeoman warder comes,” he hissed.

One of the company gave
a hand up to Sir Peter in the pit. The blue paint had sloshed over
the back of his coat and the elephant had completed the ignominy on
his trousers. He clenched his fist and started toward Jeannie and
Edward, but the elegant man stepped in front of them.

“
Temper, temper, Sir Peter. Consider that you have earned,
truly earned, that prime seat by the window at White’s. None will
dispute you.” He looked about him at the others. “Lord Billings?
Lord Blankenship? I thought not.”

“
It is
not enough,” Sir Peter said, his eyes blazing.

Jeannie backed up,
clutching Edward to her.

The elegant man sighed,
shook his head, and stepped closer to Sir Peter. He raised a
quizzing glass to his eye and looked the lord up and down.

The others were silent
during the scrutiny, and Jeannie could not understand their
expressions. It is almost as if they are afraid of him, she thought
as she dusted the chaff from Edward and wrinkled her nose at the
strong smell of ill-used elephant.

After another moment’s
perusal, the man removed the quizzing glass from his eye and
sighed. “Sir Peter, it is well that you are near and dear to me. I
would probably not tolerate such rag manners in a mere
acquaintance, say, like my fat friend.”

The others looked at
one another; some of them laughed.

Sir Peter’s complexion
resumed its normal color, but the look in his eyes had not changed.
“You had better hope our paths never cross,” he snarled at Jeannie,
and brushed past them all to the side door.

The elegant man clapped
his hands together. “And now, if we do not wish to inhabit dungeons
better left untenanted here, I recommend that door over there that
Sir Peter had shown us. We need merely follow the, ah, the trail of
blue paint. Madam, if you please?”

Jeannie shook her head
and set her lips in a tight line as Edward moved forward with the
others.

“
Come
on, Mrs. McVinnie,” he whispered. “What would Uncle Summers say if
he had to redeem us from Bow Street? I think he might frown on
another expedition.”

It was a masterpiece of
understatement that Jeannie could only say aye to. “Oh, very well,”
she grumbled, and followed him down the narrow dark steps that led,
after much winding about and false starts and stops, to another
little door close by the chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula.

The others had wasted
no time in distancing themselves from the blue elephant. The tulip
who had served as watchdog and Lord Billings already mingled with a
crowd of visitors staring up at the window where Charles I had
probably paced back and forth on the last night of his life. The
other dandies were moving with stately grace, and some speed toward
the gate. Sir Peter was a blue blur in the distance.

“
And
so we should go, too, Edward,” Jeannie said. “Lady Taneystone will
be so worried if we are late.”

The man was still at
her elbow. “Lady Taneystone?” he murmured. “It is possible that we
share acquaintance.”

“
I
doubt it, sir,” Jeannie replied. “The people I know, and care to
know, have rather more on their minds than painting
elephants.”

“
A
fair hit, madam,” he said, sweeping his high-crowned beaver hat off
his head and placing it over his heart. He gazed about him
innocently. “I know what you mean. I don’t believe I ever met
anyone before who dumped blue paint on a dandy.”

Jeannie had the good
grace to blush. “Oh, I am sorry for that. It was a momentary lapse.
I only wish it were not too late to apologize to Sir Peter.” She
returned to her familiar litany. “You must own that you could use
your time more profitably.”

He replaced his hat
upon his head, settling it precisely so. “Madam, I protest! I spend
my waking hours—or, at least, most of them—weeding out mushrooms
and pricking balloons. I assure you it is a laudable occupation.”
He took her hand and kissed it before she could draw away. “And I
say that we shall meet again. Perhaps under more favorable
circumstances?”

“
It is
not a wish of mine,” Jeannie stated frankly.

“
Oh,
we shall see. Your servant, ma’am.”

Another bow, and he was
gone. Jeannie watched him as he crossed Tower Green, his hat tilted
to one side, his cane tucked under his arm, not a hair or thread
out of place. Her speculation turned to surprise as she noticed
several of the crowd about the chopping block pointing after him
and murmuring among themselves.

Jeannie brushed off
Edward’s nankeen trousers and jacket, remonstrating all the while.
“And now, we had better step lively,” she said as she turned him
around for another brushing. “I do not know when your aunt sits
down to her dinner, but I do not think she wants a young man about
who smells …. My goodness, how can we describe it?”

“
Rather like Noah’s ark?” Edward offered helpfully.

Jeannie laughed. “I
only hope that we can sneak you past Wapping and not have to
describe it!”

The ride back to 3
Wendover Square was accomplished in spanking good time. Edward was
silent for most of the trip, poring over his guidebook. He looked
up only once to declare that his next stop must surely be Hampton
Court Palace.

“
Provided we are allowed another expedition,” Jeannie said. She
regarded him, her eyes thoughtful. “Edward,” she began slowly, “do
you think—”

He smiled back at her
in the same way, and Jeannie nearly laughed. “No, Mrs. McVinnie, I
do not think we should say anything about the elephant in the
Tower.” He brushed at the straw that still whisped about his suit.
“Aunt Agatha would go distracted, wondering what dread disease I
would contract, and Larinda would sniff and ignore me even more, if
that is possible.”

“
And
the captain?” Jeannie teased.

“
He
would give me that chilling stare of his.” He shuddered. “I would
rather be confined to my room than have him fix that stare upon
me.” He enlarged upon his theme. “Besides all that, Mrs. McVinnie,
we might have to explain that gentleman you splattered with blue
paint.”

“
Don’t
remind me,” Jeannie declared. “I hope we never see him again. That
piece of work could only come back to haunt me.”

Their wish for an
anonymous return was not to be realized. Captain Summers was
standing on the steps, paying off his own hackney when they drove
up.

“
Great
guns,” muttered Edward. “Now we are in the basket.”

“
Then
we must go forward, anyway,” Jeannie said, hoping that she sounded
more confident than she felt. “My Tom always used to say that the
true heart of a man is decided under the guns.” She smiled at
Edward and patted his knee. “We shall see what we are made of,
laddie.”

That her knees were
made of pudding, she had no doubt, but it would only do to smile
and go forward.

Chin up, eyes ahead,
Edward walked at her side.

T
he captain watched them as they came closer. He bowed.
“I trust you had an educational afternoon?”

“
Yes,
indeed, sir,” Edward said, rather too eagerly.

But Captain Summers was
sniffing now. A frown appeared between his eyes. “Hold on a moment,
Edward. What is that foul odor about you?” He motioned Edward back
to the walk and circled him about. “I do not think you have been
near a slaver’s ship, but that is what you smell like. And what is
this? Blue paint? Edward, has your afternoon’s education extended
to a too-close study of our early British ancestors?” He fixed
Jeannie with his chilling stare. “I had thought you to be in
excellent company.”

“
There
was an elephant, Captain,” she said calmly, even as her knees smote
together. “In the Tower.”

“
Certainly there was,” the captain replied.

He took another
leisurely tour around his nephew. “And I suppose you rode it?
Painted it blue?”

Edward looked at
Jeannie for help.

She raised her chin and
threw back her shoulders. “Sir, we prefer not to discuss it.”

“
I
shouldn’t wonder.” The captain ceased his circumnavigation of
Edward. He looked from one to the other, and a ghost of a smile
played about his lips. “But you would like my services in disposing
of Wapping in the hallway, would you not?” The captain read the
relief in Edward’s eyes and touched the boy on the shoulder. “Wait
here,” he ordered as he went up the steps. “And be ready to march
lively.” He went inside and shut the door.

“
I
didn’t think he would be so helpful,” Edward said.

“
I’m
sure I don’t know what I thought,” Jeannie said.

The door opened and the
captain motioned them forward. “Be quick, Edward,” he said. “I sent
Wapping on a fool’s errand and he will be back in a flea’s leap.
Lively now, lad, lively.”

With one backward
glance of gratitude, Edward scurried up the stairs.

Captain Summers removed
his hat and tucked it under his arm. “You, Mrs. McVinnie, will not
escape so easily.”

She was saved from
immediate comment by the return of Wapping to the hall. The butler
had a vague air of puzzlement about him. “Sir William,” he began,
“I cannot imagine—”