The House in Grosvenor Square (45 page)

“I will ask you one more time,” she said between gritted teeth. “What have you done with the things in your room? You stole them, didn't ye!”

“I ain't stole nothin'!” cried Molly, covering her ears with her hands since Mrs. Hamilton had already given them a good, sound boxing.

“What is this about?” Mr. Mornay had his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.

Mrs. Hamilton came to attention, astonished. She was speechless for a second.

“Sir! The missing items from the house! I saw them, sir, in Molly's room!” And she turned and glared at the girl.

“She put them there, sir!” cried Molly, gulping back tears. “Ask Mr. Frederick, sir!”

“Mr. Frederick?” Mrs. Hamilton was surprised.

“Ay. 'E knows about it.” Molly wiped her nose with her apron.

In another minute or two, the butler arrived, and when he saw the occupants of the room, his face took on a knowing look. “Ah. So it comes out, does it?”

“Freddie—you knew about this?” Mr. Mornay asked.

“Sir—I must speak with you privately.” To Molly he said, “Go to the kitchen and get back to work.” To Mrs. Hamilton he said, “I shall settle this, Mrs. Hamilton. Leave the girl to me.”

Mrs. Hamilton was in a fright, but what could she do? What could she say? She eyed the butler cautiously and left the room without another word.
Could it be that Freddie had found the things and believed Molly was guilty too? Tears of gratitude flooded her eyes! She was out of the money she might have got for selling the trinkets, but at least she wasn't on her way to Newgate!

Mr. Mornay pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. He was tired. The butler came over to him. “You see, sir, it happened like this…”

Mr. Mornay sighed.
Bother
.

As his butler gave him the story, the Paragon's eyes roamed the dining room walls and ceiling and—wait! Things had changed. He'd been vaguely aware, of course, of the ongoing work in his house, but his preoccupation with Ariana and Wingate had all but taken over his mind.

“Freddie, hold for a moment, won't you?” The issue of Mrs. Hamilton was annoying to the extreme, and frankly he wanted nothing to do with it. He got up and stood before the new plasterwork taking it in.

Freddie went over and examined the work also. He'd done so before, and it had looked to his eye perfectly pleasing. But his master was the Paragon, and here he was noticing it for the first time! What would he say?

Mornay circled the room, keeping that look of appraisal, his eyes curious, his head nodding from time to time. But Freddie couldn't read him. What was he thinking?

“Show me all the new work,” he said. And so the butler took his master through the rooms that Miss Forsythe had seen fit to augment with new painted roundels, bas-relief work, and sculptures. Almost imperceptibly, finishing touches had miraculously been put in place. Paintings had been completed. Suddenly all the mess and upheaval came together in a masterly fashion, and the thorough cleanup had left the house looking newly finished.

The head of Mary Magdalene brought a strange little smile. At the sight of the mother of God, he commented, “She'll have us taken for papists!” But he wasn't frowning.

When he saw the bedchambers, he really had to stop, put his hands on his hips, and just look around and shake his head. But again he was smiling.

Freddie could stand it no longer. “Well, sir?”

Mornay looked over at him, almost as though he'd forgot the man's presence. “Amazing,” he said. “Did Miss Forsythe conceive of it all?”

“According to Mrs. Hamilton, sir, yes, she did.” Mrs. Hamilton had
shared much more than that, including her opinion of the “appalling cheek” of some people and how the “future” mistress didn't know her place, but Freddie didn't bother to elaborate.

“Does it meet your approval, sir?”

The Paragon turned and greatly surprised his long-time servant by flashing that remarkably handsome, full smile. “I'm so proud of her, I hardly know what to say!” He looked back over the room. There was a greater softness in effect, a hinting at femininity but not so much that his masculine sensibilities were offended.

The bed, in particular, looked very inviting. Yes, it met entirely with his approval.

Mr. Frederick hated to ruin the moment, but he had to ask, “And Mrs. Hamilton, sir? Shall I wait for further proof of her part in the thefts?”

“I think what you have is sufficient. She wouldn't have known about the things in Molly's room if she hadn't put them there herself. That's enough to dismiss her, if that's your concern.” He paused. “I'll need a new housekeeper quickly, and one who won't mind going back and forth from Aspindon to here.”

“Shall you wish to prosecute Mrs. Hamilton?”

Mornay paused. “Anything of great value gone?”

“Quite a few small trinkets. I saw those ruffians stuffing their pockets, though; so it might be sticky knowing who took what. But we did recover many items in the wall including a silver candlestick and portrait if the king. And a necklace that belonged to your mother.”

Mr. Mornay hesitated.

“We won't prosecute.” When the servant still waited, he said, “Is there anything else?”

Freddie frowned. “Sir, Mrs. Hamilton was of the opinion that we were all to face dismissal…following your wedding.” It sounded foolish now to his own ears, but he had to voice the thought.

Mornay seemed somewhat amused at the thought. “On what account would I do that?”

“She thought it was the wish of your…Miss Forsythe, sir.”

“Mr. Frederick!” His amusement now turned to annoyance. “Miss Forsythe's wish? Surely you know her better than to think—” He stopped. In a different tone, he asked sharply, “Is this what caused the difficulty between you and her? She mentioned a troubling incident or two, and I've been so busy I'm afraid it slipped my mind.”

“I regret to say that this was the difficulty, sir. I am terribly sorry.” There was a pause while Mornay considered whether to give a further combing. Freddie spoke first. “I will offer my resignation, sir, if that will satisfy—”

“Don't be absurd! You're not going anywhere, Freddie.”

The butler could have done a jig. “Thank you, sir!”

“See that the staff is given the correct information and in the future please check all rumours and speculations with me before acting upon them.”

“Yes, sir!”

Mr. Mornay needed to get to the ground floor office to see his man of business on important matters, but he had gone down to breakfast without a cravat. He rarely appeared even in his own home without properly dressing, but he'd forgot about Holliwell's being there, and he was so hungry that he had no patience to get the knot right beforehand. Freddie had notified him that the man was in the office awaiting his pleasure, and so he was trying to get the neckcloth done speedily. Without success.

Holliwell poked his head in the door and yelled, “Mr. Mornay? Are you here, sir?”

Mornay took a few steps out of the dressing room. “In here. Come in.”

Holliwell tried not to gawk as he entered the chamber, but he was clearly distracted. He and his brother had been in low tide for so long, he'd forgotten the feel of being surrounded by finery.

“Would it be possible, sir, to call upon the Herleys?”

Before Mr. Mornay could answer, Freddie came back. Fotch, who had not been aware that Mr. Mornay had returned to his dressing room and, therefore, was in need of his ministrations, darted around the men and began to fuss over the neckcloth.

“A note from your tailor, sir,” said Freddie. “The coat sleeves have been redone and are ready for a fitting, and he begs to remind you that you wanted the coat before the wedding, sir.”

“As though I'd forget. Tell them I'll come by. If it was cut
correctly
this time, I'll pay on the spot.”

“Yes, sir. Also, a messenger from Rundell's, sir. The jewellery you ordered is ready for your inspection and approval, sir.”

“Have them bring it here, and I will inspect it on the premises. If I'm satisfied, I'll pay for it directly. That ought to quiet their qualms.”

“No, no, Fotch! Don't go getting fancy on me, I want the same knot I usually wear!”

“The note, sir, begs to remind you that the jewellery was to be a surprise for your future wife, to be picked up at Rundell's by yourself. Shall I still ask them to bring it here, sir?”

“Yes. I cannot go running all over town!”

“Very good, sir.”

A footman came hurrying up and handed Freddie another note. “A note from Carlton House, sir. The Regent requests your presence on Thursday.”

This made Mr. Mornay turn around and look at the butler exasperated. “And does he say what this is about?”

“No, sir.” Freddie walked away with a smile.

Holliwell was still standing by, a little awestruck. “Carlton House? You really are friends with the prince, then?”

“'Tis no secret,” he answered, while letting Fotch take over for him.

Holliwell swallowed. “Does that mean, sir, that you won't have a chance to speak to the Herleys on my behalf? I understand that your wedding is soon, sir—”

“I was going to write to them actually. Will that satisfy you?”

“If the result is my wedding to Miss Herley, it will.”

Mornay smiled. “Rest easy. What you need to do today, sir, is to get a special license so you'll be ready!”

This perked up the young man. “Indeed! I nearly forgot! I would have done it following my stop at Mrs. Bentley's the other day, but they threw me into Newgate instead.”

“Yes, well, go and do it now.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Mornay watched the young man turn to go and said, “Holliwell.”

“Sir?”

“Return here afterward. I'll have the papers drawn up today for Miss Herley's stipend, including the conditions we spoke about.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you once again, sir!” He turned to go again.

“Which reminds me,” Mornay said loudly.

Holliwell stopped. He turned around but said nothing. “We have some business together. Part of the conditions, if you recall.”

Holliwell nodded but remained silent.

“You must wait for me to see my man of business. Then we'll take care of it.”

“May I get the license first, sir?”

“No.”

Holliwell swallowed, bowed stiffly, and left the room. Mr. Mornay stood watching him leave with a thoughtful but not unhappy expression.

Two hours later, Mr. Mornay shook hands with a man who then proceeded to take up a pile of papers and put them into a neat stack.

“We only require the young lord's signature now, sir, and the contract will take effect immediately.”

“I'll have him sign them today.”

“Very good, sir. But could he do so now, while I'm here as a witness? This sort of thing requires a witness, you see, sir,” he added, pointing to a spot on the bottom of the top paper where the witness must sign. A leather portfolio was opened, awaiting the finished business, its little leather straps at the ready to be tied securely. The solicitor handed Mr. Mornay a few envelopes saying, “These are your copies, sir.”