The Tainted Snuff Box (15 page)

Humphrey—which afterward caused Freddie to tell me she thought Mr. Lavender a fine example for Bow Street—and Lady Bessborough’s appearance on the scene.  That lady had no qualms letting it be known that she viewed Lord Petersham as the obvious guilty party.  Everyone knew he was, as her ladyship put it, “odd.”

Upon hearing this witless remark, I had fixed my expression to one that clearly indicated Lady Bessborough could not be taken seriously, while Freddie, very much the
grande dame
, said she had known Lord Petersham for many years.

The farther we got from Brighton, the more I wondered how long it would be before questions about the death of Sir Simon, and whispers about who might be responsible it, would fly around London.  Since Jack Townsend had sent word of the Prince’s jeopardy to the King and Mr. Pitt, the Prime Minister, it was entirely possible we would return to gossip-loving London to find the bibble-babblers having a hey-dey.

All of a sudden, my driver pulled the coach to a stop.  I reached a hand over to make sure Chakkri’s basket remained secure on the seat.  I let down the window to see the Perrys’ vehicle halted in front of me.  A farmer led a herd of black-faced sheep across the road.  Amongst much bleating and scrambling, the man hurried the creatures as best he could, recognizing from the crest on Lord Perry’s coach that he delayed the journey of a nobleman.

The chilly air entered my coach.  I went to close the window.  In the process of doing so, a sad sight made me pause.  A woman of middle years walked by the side of the road, looking dazed and muttering to herself.  One does see such unfortunates on occasion, but what made this woman different was her bearing and dress.  Instead of the rags usually to be seen on persons fallen on difficult times, this woman’s dress was fine.  Though dirty and torn at one shoulder, exposing a sliver of white flesh, the gown was of an expensive-looking dove-coloured silk.  Her brown hair, heavily streaked with grey, had been messily pinned to the top of her head in a disordered knot.

On the seat next to me, a rustling sound came from the wicker basket.  Chakkri woke.  A minute later a brown face, followed by a fawn-coloured body, emerged from the lidded container.  The cat stretched his neck to an almost impossible length, placed one paw on my shoulder to brace himself, and looked out the window.  He uttered a sharp “Reow.”

The farmer drove the last of his sheep across the road.  We would be on our way in a moment.  My gaze swung back to the woman.  She looked the same age as my favourite aunt.

Impulsively, I opened the door to my coach and alighted from the vehicle.  Making certain the door was shut tightly so Chakkri could not get out, I shouted to Perry’s coachman to wait before proceeding.  Then I took a few steps toward the woman.

“Good afternoon, madam.  Do you need some assistance?”

Instead of welcoming my offer, the woman shrank from me, terror clearly written across her face.

Surprised by this response, I did not attempt to step any closer.  “Do not be alarmed.  I only want to help you.”

The woman’s plump form began to tremble.  Her eyes were wide with fear despite my assurance.  In a heavy French accent she whispered, “No, no, no.”  Then she crossed herself as if to ward off evil.

Switching to French, I asked her again if I might help her.  Instead of the sound of her native language reassuring her, the woman remained paralyzed with fear.

Then her gaze went past me.  Lady Perry had emerged from her carriage and walked toward us, Lord Perry waiting for her at the coach door.  “What is wrong, Mr. Brummell?  Is the lady hurt?”

“I do not know.  I think she is French, but she will not speak with me in English or French.  She seems greatly afraid.”

Lady Perry smiled reassuringly at the woman.  “I am Lady Perry.  Can we help you?  Are you lost?”

The woman reached a shaking hand out to Lady Perry, but then her gaze darted back to me.  She cringed, took another step backward, and resumed muttering the word “no” over and over.

“She does not seem as frightened of you, Lady Perry,” I said in a low voice.  “She reminds me of a rabbit, easily startled, and ready to flee at any second.”

“Indeed.  May I make a suggestion, Mr. Brummell?”

“By all means.”

“Will you go and stand next to Anthony?  Perhaps this poor creature will be more willing to tell another woman what has happened to her.”

“Very well.”  I made a slight bow in the woman’s direction as a way to reassure her I meant no harm.  Then, casually, I joined Perry.  Victor Tallarico had alighted from the vehicle as well.

“What is amiss with that woman?  Is she mad?” Perry asked.

“She looks harmless enough, like someone’s
governante
,” Tallarico said.

“Governess or not, who can say?” I told them.  “Lady Perry is going to try to find out what happened.”

Perry frowned.  “I wish Bernadette would not walk in the brush like that.  She could trip and fall.”

I clapped a hand on his shoulder.  “Relax.  Lady Perry is all that is graceful.  Nothing of the sort will happen.”

Lady Perry had taken a step toward the woman.  Although the frightened creature did not move away, her gaze remained fixed on Perry, Tallarico, and me.  She shook her head at whatever Lady Perry asked her.  From where I was standing, I could hear her repeating the word “no.”

Robinson chose that moment to emerge from the servant’s coach, standing behind mine.  “If I might inquire as to the nature of our delay, sir?” he called.

The effect of yet another man’s presence on the strange woman was startling.  She shrank behind Lady Perry as if seeking to protect herself.  Her entire body shook.

“Robinson, wait in the coach,” I ordered.  He pursed his lips and put his foot in the doorway of the vehicle.

Lady Perry said, “Robinson, if you will be so good as to ask my maid to come out.”

“Here I am, my lady,” announced Betty, easing her bulk out of the servant’s coach and pushing past Robinson.  Betty is a practical country girl.  Lady Perry had first hired her as housemaid.  Later, when Lady Perry could no longer tolerate the snobbish ways of her lady’s maid, she had let the woman go and given a grateful Betty the position.

Betty joined her mistress and the Frenchwoman.

Above her and Lady Perry’s gentle talk, I could hear the mysterious Frenchwoman saying, “No, no, ze animals, ze animals.”

Could it be she had merely been afraid of the sheep?  But she had cringed from me, Perry, Tallarico, and Robinson.  She was afraid of men. 

While Betty put a comforting arm around the Frenchwoman, Lady Perry walked over to us.  “The poor thing is in a state of hysteria.  We cannot make any sense out of what she says for all she will say is ‘no’ and ‘the animals.’   Anthony, I would not be able to live with myself if we simply left her here.”  Lady Perry looked at her husband, her velvet-brown eyes pleading.

Perry sighed.  “What do you propose to do with her?”

“I have an idea,” I said.  “I know a woman in Town who runs a shelter for ‘destitute and downtrodden’ women, as she puts it.  Miss Lydia Lavender is her name.  The shelter is called Haven of Hope.”

Lord Perry’s eyes narrowed.  “Would this woman be a relation of John Lavender from Bow Street?”

“Er, yes.  His daughter,” I replied, a bit uncomfortably.

“Oh, Mr. Brummell, do you think Miss Lavender would help?  If so, it would be the very thing,” Lady Perry said.  “We could take this poor woman to our Town house, and you could send word to Miss Lavender.”

“How are we going to get her to London?” Perry asked.  “She would need to ride in the servants’ coach.  She does not seem inclined to let a man near her and since Robinson, Diggie, and Hearn are there . . .”

We looked toward where Betty tried to calm the Frenchwoman.

Lady Perry spoke.  “Anthony, darling, I am persuaded the woman would ride in our coach with Betty and me.  If Mr. Brummell would not mind, perhaps you and Victor could ride with him.”

“An excellent scheme, Lady Perry,” I said.

“
Va bene
,” Tallarico agreed.

My gaze shifted to my vehicle.  Chakkri’s face was at the window.  The cat was watching the proceedings.  His mouth opened and he voiced a “reow” I could not hear.

Perry did not look at all pleased at the thought of being separated from his wife, but I knew he would not deny her wishes.

As it turned out, I was right.  However, the matter was not easily accomplished.  Lady Perry had to explain the scheme, in French, three times before the woman agreed.  Still, no explanation of what had happened to her, and no other phrases could be coaxed from her other than “no” and “ze animals.” 

Once Perry, Tallarico, and I were ensconced in my carriage, the woman allowed herself to be taken up with Betty and Lady Perry.  Our cavalcade started out once more, with an added member to our number. 

Little did I know then of the ramifications there would be from our having rescued her, and how she would hold the key to questions I had not yet even asked.

Once in London, I ordered Robinson to convey Chakkri to my house in Bruton Street, while I joined the Perrys in their Adam-styled drawing room in Grosvenor Square.

Setting aside my trepidation that Robinson might seize the opportunity to “accidentally” lose Chakkri in the crowded Mayfair streets, I accepted pen and paper from Lady Perry.  In a few short sentences, I described the mysterious Frenchwoman’s plight, and begged Miss Lavender to come to Grosvenor Square as soon as she could. 

I sanded the note, and Lady Perry ordered a footman to hurry its delivery to Miss Lavender personally at the Haven of Hope.  In case he should not find her there, which was entirely possible since it was nearing five o’clock, I also gave Miss Lavender’s direction in Fetter Lane. 

Meanwhile, Betty had bustled her charge to the kitchen, proclaiming that a hot cup of tea was just what the woman needed.  Privately I thought a good deal more than tea would be required to quiet the Frenchwoman’s nerves.

Lady Perry then turned her attention to directing a maid to make up a room for Victor Tallarico.

“No, you must not,” the Italian protested, rising.  “I’ll seek a hotel for the night.  In the morning I’ll inquire about renting rooms.”

“I shall not hear of it,” Lady Perry proclaimed.  “Anthony, you must convince Victor to remain with us.”

Perry picked up a bottle of Madeira wine and poured out a large measure.  “Why not stay here until you can make more permanent arrangements, Victor?”

Tallarico did not miss his cousin’s lack of enthusiasm for the plan.  “
Grazie
, but I tend to keep erratic hours, and would be more comfortable at a hotel.”

“Oh, surely not—” Lady Perry said, sending her husband a speaking look.

“I insist,
mi bella
,” Signor Tallarico pronounced.  Kissing her hand and favouring her with a wink, the Italian gave me a nod of farewell and then exited the room.

Lady Perry retired to her chamber to change from her travelling dress, but not before letting her husband know of her displeasure at his lack of warmth where his cousin was concerned.

“It is not that I dislike Victor,” Perry said, as he and I seated ourselves in rose-coloured plush chairs by the fire.  “He is just not as settled as I might wish.  His activities run to the racketing sort.  He is better off, as he himself said, at a hotel.”

“Er, Perry,” I said, taking a swallow of the fine Madeira.  “Have a care to whom you express that opinion of your cousin.  After what happened at the Pavilion . . ..”

Perry ran his hand through his dark hair.  “I was referring to Victor’s escapades with females, but I know what you are talking about, Brummell.  Jack Townsend’s brain is failing him, though.  Victor would not take time away from his pursuit of the ladies to involve himself in spying or plotting with Napoleon’s allies.”

I studied Perry’s face carefully.  I found it disturbing when I saw the slight bit of doubt in his eyes.  Almost as if by speaking the words aloud, he was reassuring himself that they were true.  “As Tallarico intends to remain in London for a time, you will have the opportunity to renew your acquaintance, perhaps be an example to him.”

Perry snorted.  “Victor has never listened to anyone.  Certain people must find their own way in the world, eh, Brummell?”  He turned to look at me.  “You have not followed my lead either, have you?  While I cannot think you indulge in the sort of dissolute behaviour Victor does, you are as yet unwed at the age of seven and twenty.”

“Ah, Lady Perry, you have rejoined us at precisely the right moment,” I said rising and sweeping her a bow.  A servant followed her into the room carrying a tray laden with tea and sandwiches.  Yes, I was relieved that the conversation with Perry had been interrupted.  I count him as one of my closest friends, but that does not mean I will discuss my most private feelings with him.

While we ate and exchanged small talk, a corner of my mind examined the absent Victor Tallarico.  I allowed this corner free rein to consider him as a suspect in the poisoning.  A mental image of the Italian standing in front of an emissary from Napoleon in Rome, accepting orders to act on the new King of Italy’s behalf, formed in my mind’s eye.  Could it be true?

I remembered the glint of the knife he had so quickly produced when he thought his cousin might need his assistance.   Signor Tallarico’s chief interest in life was women and, more specifically, his conquest of them.  Perhaps it had been a woman who had persuaded him to carry out the deed.

And the man did wear a pink waistcoat.  Could he really be trusted?

As I said, I tried to come up with every devious political plot in which I could cast Signor Tallarico, but the fact remained that I did not believe a single one of them.  The man was guilty of no more than filling a lady’s ear with whispered promises of delights he claimed only he could deliver.   

The entrance of the butler broke my thoughts.  “Miss Lavender, my lord.”

Perry and I rose to our feet as Miss Lavender advanced into the room.  Her gaze found me and her lips curved into a slight smile.