Regency Masquerade, page 12
“I have received some interesting news about my granddaughter,” she told him calmly, passing him the letter. “You may find this will be of assistance to us.”
Her solicitor took the letter gingerly and quickly skimmed it. “Yes indeed my lady, very interesting, if true,” he added suavely.
“That’s what I want you to investigate for me, privately of course, I do not want this to be known outside these four walls, at least not yet!”
He nodded and bowed himself out of the room, “At once my lady.”
She went slowly upstairs to her room, plans forming in her head only to be discarded as she realised their weaknesses, her scheme needed to be foolproof. Surely she had some laudanum handy? She would make sure Hanson arranged for some to be put in Frances morning cup of hot chocolate, that would keep her docile until Dr Russell arrived and she could put the rest of her scheme into place.
The two shoppers returned to the house, unaware of the disaster looming over their heads. Lady Murray remained in her room, she did not think she could manage to treat Frances with civility and pleaded a headache when Mrs Pearson went up to enquire. “I shall just rest here quietly Maria, but please come up and see me before you retire for the night,” she requested in a faint voice.
Mrs Pearson knocked lightly on her door later that night after Frances had retired, and was bid to enter. Lady Murray was propped up in her bed and turned a tragic face towards her old companion. “Maria, you must prepare yourself for terrible news,” she turned a searching gaze upon her and patted the side of the bed. “Be seated, I have had a great shock. Our Frances is not.. not well” her voice faltered convincingly.
“My lady, what on earth has happened?” cried Mrs Pearson anxiously.
“While you were out this afternoon, I had a visit from Mr Pilkington.” Lady Murray thought correctly that this would carry more weight than an anonymous letter. “He has been looking into the girls’ history for me to see if we could verify her claim and unfortunately he made a terrible discovery. Before she came to us she was living with a man!” She continued, over Mrs Pearson’ gasp of horror. “Not only has she lost her virtue but I fear she has been seen wearing men’s clothes in public. I can only conclude that she is suffering from an inflammation of the brain so I have asked if Dr Russell might call as a matter of urgency tomorrow. We will see what can be done, perhaps a quiet life in the country..”
“Good heavens! What are we to do? I cannot believe it, is Mr Pilkington certain of his facts?” Mrs Pearson was devastated.
“Unfortunately it is all too true,” Lady Murray sighed. “We will see what can be done tomorrow, after I have seen Dr Russell. I know I shall not sleep a wink tonight but we must get what rest we can. Good night Maria, I am sure I do not need to tell you, but not a word to the girl until Dr Russell has been, I will talk to her myself after I have decided what to do.”
“Of course, my lady, oh I cannot believe it!” she exclaimed again. Not only had Mrs Pearson become fond of Frances but she had been eagerly looking forward to presenting her to their friends and the round of social activities this would entail. Grateful as she was to Lady Murray for providing her with a home and a comfortable life, sometimes it did all seem rather quiet, not to say dull. A lively young person was just what they needed, she had thought. Sadly she went to her room, only to lie on her bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. After a while her natural optimism began to reassert itself. Perhaps it was not quite as bad as Lady Murray feared, she was always one to see the worst side of things. Who was the man involved? Perhaps if he were not totally unacceptable he could marry Frances and make her, if not respectable, at least less scandalous.
Unsuspecting, Frances woke early as usual the next morning and drank her cup of hot chocolate, grimacing a little at the taste, perhaps the milk was not quite fresh today. She had almost finished dressing before the effects of the laudanum began to overtake her and she felt sleepy and a bit dizzy. “I think I must have caught a chill or something yesterday Annie, I really don’t feel at all well. Perhaps I had better go back to bed for a while, could you please apologise to Lady Murray for me?” Annie helped take off her dress and she lay back down on the bed, then fell into an uneasy dose.
When she awoke some hours later she could not think where she was. She was certainly not in her blue bedroom. She looked around groggily, what the deuce? There was a doll in a crib by the window and a miniature set of chairs in front of the fireplace, it looked as if she was in the nursery. She was lying tucked up in a narrow bed with a white cotton cover, but apart from the children’s playthings there was nothing else in the room. Shakily she got out of bed and went to the door. She looked down disbelievingly, it was locked. “Hello?” she called uncertainly, was she dreaming? There was no sound from the other side of the door and she went to the window and looked out through the bars. Bars? Of course there were bars, she realised, it was a nursery.
Frances was starting to get alarmed and a little angry. Who on earth was playing this trick on her? She knocked loudly on the door, “Hullo? Is anyone there?” she called again. She continued knocking and shouting for five minutes but there was no response. Eventually she gave up for the moment and looked around the room more thoroughly. It did not take long, there was no furniture other than the bed. Gradually she became aware that she was wearing her camisole and drawers but there were no other clothes in the room. There was however a chamber pot under the bed. She was still feeling rather queasy, so she decided the most sensible thing to do was to lie back down on the bed and wait for whoever it was to come back and tell her what was happening.
Frances had fallen back into a light doze when the door opened and Lady Murray came in accompanied by Tom who was looking both fearful and embarrassed.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, instantly awake.
“You are being confined, for your own safety,” replied Lady Murray bluntly. “Your behaviour has been such that I can no longer allow you to leave the house. Dr Russell advised that it would be best if you were removed to a quiet place in the country but until we can arrange that you will remain in this room.”
“What in heavens’ name are you talking about? What behaviour?” Frances was flabbergasted.
“Your wantoness, your complete lack of modesty and virtue! I have received a letter from Chatswood – ah I see you know what that means! You have been exposed as nothing but a strumpet!” Lady Murray struggled to control herself. “I am certain you must be suffering from a brain fever. Dr Russell has seen you and he agrees with me, however, no relation of mine shall be placed in Bedlam, not even you. A quiet life in the country is the best you can hope for. If you are wise, you will agree with me on this, it will make things so much more pleasant for you.” She smiled grimly. “Dr Russell has left me some medicine for you in case you should become violent, I hope I will not have to use it. I will leave you now, if you are quiet and obedient, Tom will bring you something to eat and drink in a little while, and possibly a book to read.”
Frances was too shocked to react when Lady Murray whisked out of the room with Tom behind her and locked the door again. She felt like banging on the door and screaming her head off but she sat down bemusedly on the bed. “Think, I must think, not react hysterically which is what they are expecting I am sure. Perhaps I will play their game for awhile, pretend to capitulate, and wait for an opportunity to escape.”
Mrs Pearson was dithering. When she had asked Lady Murray if she could pop up and see Frances she had been told that at the moment it would be too unsettling for her to have visitors, perhaps in a day or two it might be possible. Although Lady Murray had spoken as if she were distressed when she talked about Frances, her companion was no longer certain that was the truth. She noticed she had stopped using her name. Instead she called her “that girl” and more than once she had caught a look of triumph on her face which she had been unable to understand. She remembered how bitter had been the breach between Lady Amanda and her mother, how long Lady Murray had held the grudge, was she perhaps now extending it to Frances? Mrs Pearson was certain Amanda would have wanted her to help her daughter if she could. She did not like to disobey her employer but she felt she must see Frances for herself and talk to her. Waiting until Lady Murray had retired for the night and the house was quiet, Mrs Pearson crept upstairs to the nursery. There was a light in the passage! She stopped at the corner and peered around. She could not believe her eyes, Tom was sitting slumped in a chair in front of the door, giving the strong and unpleasant suggestion of a jailer. Quickly she tiptoed back to her room, something havey-cavey was definitely going on!
John Hopgood was also feeling uneasy about the situation, Frances had not been in touch for several days and this was unlike her. He hunted around for a reason to call on her and discovered a single glove lying forgotten under her bed. He took this, dressed himself in a clean jacket and went around to the servants’ entrance of the house on Devonshire Street. “Please be so good as to tell Miss Frances I am here, I’m Hopgood,” he told the young maid who opened the door to him. The girl gave him an odd look and said “I’ll just get Mr Hanson.” She returned in a moment with a superior looking man in a frock coat, “And you are?” he asked coldly.
“Miss Frances manservant,” replied John, not liking the look of things at all. He held up the glove.
“You may leave it with me,” said the butler. “You may go. The lady in question no longer needs your services, my good man.”
“But I must see her!” demanded John. “What about my wages? She still owes me two weeks wages.”
The butler frowned at him, “Wait here.” He disappeared into the house and returned with ten shillings. “Take this and go, or I will call the constable,” he ordered.
“There’s no need for that me fine fellow,” said John taking the money. “I just want what’s owing to me.” He sauntered off without a backward glance. There was something very wrong here, he had told Frances it was all too good to be true, but she hadn’t listened, and now she was in a right scrape. He needed help, a fancy house like that, there was no way he could get inside. For a moment he imagined what would happen if he went to the Runners and told them a young woman was being held there against her will. They would think he was telling them a Canterbury Tale, either that or he was in his cups. No-one would believe him.
Lord Carleton was the third person to have his peace cut up that evening, worrying about Frances. He had heard absolutely nothing since he received her letter. The news of a lost heiress returned to the fold should have flown around London’s drawing rooms before the gossips could have drawn a second breath. The silence was deafening, and more than a little disquieting. He would have to take the bull by the horns and call on Lady Murray tomorrow. Perhaps he could say he had known Frances father and wished to pay his respects to his daughter?
He was about to set out for his club for a late supper when his butler drew himself to his attention by appearing at his elbow and clearing his throat. “Excuse me my lord but there is a person here to see you,” he said cautiously. “I explained that you were about to go out and suggested he call back tomorrow but he was very insistent. He said you would think it important. His name is Hopgood but he said that would not likely mean anything to you, so he asked me to give you this letter.” Carleton had been looking at him with raised eyebrows but took the folded piece of paper held out to him.
It was from the rector of Brasted announcing the fact that he had married Lady Amanda Murray to Mr Henry Metcalf twenty five years ago. Frances! Carleton seized the butlers arm. “Quickly man, where is he?”
“In the hall my lord,” stuttered Rawlings in alarm. Carleton released him and strode down to the hall where a middle aged stranger was standing, twisting his cap between his hands. The disappointment was like a blow.
“Yes?” he asked, unaware of how intimidating he looked in his evening wear, his cloak already around his shoulders.
The older man gazed hesitantly up at him, was this tall, elegant Corinthian really a friend of Frances? Well he had come this far he wasn’t going to give up without a struggle.
He stated in a firm voice, “I’ve come about Miss Frances, milord,” then stopped as Carleton held up his hand and shook his head slightly. The change in Carleton’s face was remarkable, it was as if someone had turned on a light. “Let us go into the study, Hopgood is it?”
“Yes my lord,” he answered bemusedly as he was ushered into a cosy study and seated in a leather chair before he could blink.
“That will be all Rawlings, thank you.” Carleton dismissed the butler. “A glass of brandy?” he offered.
“Thank you my lord,” was the dazed reply. “Very kind of you.”
“Now tell me what has been happening,” requested Carleton, pouring himself a glass as well.
John filled him in about his trip to Brasted and what Frances had disclosed about her subsequent visit to Lady Murray. He then went on to recount what had occurred that very day when he had tried to see Frances at Devonshire Street. “Miss Frances would never have sent me away like that, not if it were ever so. I am thinking my lord that perhaps Lady Murray was not so pleased to have her granddaughter prove she was legitimate as she pretended,” he added shrewdly. “It seems plain to me that Miss Frances is being held there against her will.”
Carleton nodded, “It would seem so! I will call on her tomorrow and see what I can discover. Where are you staying?”
“At the Regent Hotel, my lord. Miss Frances still has rooms there and some of her belongings.”
“I will call on you tomorrow evening, will you be there?”
“I’ll make sure of it, my lord,” John replied, feeling hopeful. Lord Carleton appeared to know what he was doing.
“I am on my way to Whites, can I drop you somewhere?” Carleton asked.
“No thank you my lord. I might just take a stroll round to Devonshire Street, just to keep an eye on things.”
Carleton nodded and they parted at the door. He thought he might take a leaf out of Hopgood’s book and spread the word of Frances existence and her parents’ marriage. If it became common knowledge it would be much more difficult for Lady Murray to orchestrate a cover up. He would make an appearance at Almack’s to drop the word in a few feminine ears and then call in at his club. Entering the “Marriage Mart” he was fortunate enough to see Sammy Fairfax there with a party of friends and went up to her, “Sammy, give me the next dance will you?”
“But I am already promised to Tom Humphries,” she protested, smiling at him.
“Fob him off,” he demanded impatiently, “I have something extremely important to tell you. You will be the first person to hear the news,” he offered tantalizingly.
Sammy swapped her dance with Tom in exchange for going in to supper with him and was soon standing up with Carleton, eager to hear what he had to say.
“Do you remember the woman you met as Diana Murray?”
She nodded questioningly, her eyes fixed on his. “Yes?”
“Her real name is Frances Metcalf and she is the missing granddaughter of Lady Anna Murray, her mother was Lady Anna’s daughter Amanda and her father was Henry Metcalf.”
“Lud! Is it true? She said she thought she was a relation of Lady Julia Murray!” Sammy exclaimed excitedly.
“Her aunt,” confirmed Carleton. “She is staying with her grandmother at the moment. No doubt she will be presented soon.”
“But how-?”
“Before you pepper me with questions, that is all I know,” interrupted Carleton firmly. “I am sure she will have lots to tell you when you see her next. Perhaps you and your aunt might call on her one day soon,” he suggested distractingly.
Despite his disclaimer, Sammy continued to plague him with unanswerable questions until he was glad to hand her off to her next partner. He stayed only to politely greet several dowagers of his acquaintance, before departing for his club before Sammy could corner him again. He took a slightly different approach to spread the tale at Whites. A few simple questions as to whether George or Harry had met the latest heiress was enough to get the rumours circulating.
Unaware of the schemes being hatched in her support, Frances was getting tired of being compliant. She had spent a very boring day pacing her room and had even ventured to read a few pages of the improving book Lady Murray had selected for her. She had carefully explored every inch of the room, which took less than ten minutes and had reached the conclusion that her best weapon was the chamber pot. She had spent an hour testing the strength of the bars in the window and attempting to chip away at the bricks they were embedded in but unless she was going to be there for several weeks, the only way out was through the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The following afternoon, Lord Carleton dressed in a dark blue coat and cream pantaloons, presented himself at the door of Lady Murrays’ house and sent in his card. He was uncertain how he would be received but what he had never expected was to be left standing at the door and told by the butler, “I am afraid Her Ladyship is not at home. She is not receiving anyone, good day to you my lord.” He was turning away, still bemused by the rudeness of his reception when the door opened and a small elderly woman ventured out. “I am most sorry my lord, my mistress is a little blue-devilled at the moment. Were you wanting anything in particular? We so rarely have any gentleman callers.”
Carleton stopped and looked at her, “My apologies ma’am, I am afraid I do not remember if we have met before,” he said politely.
The little woman looked flustered but answered, certain that he must be here because of Frances. “I am Mrs Pearson my lord, I am Lady Murray’s companion. I was nurse to Lady Amanda,” she added.
