Lucasta Read online

  With a curt nod he strode away, snarling at anyone who chanced in his way.

  Lucasta glanced around.

  ‘Dear ma’am,’ she murmured, aghast, ‘so many people were listening! It will be all over Town tomorrow.’

  ‘Perfect,’ smiled the duchess. ‘I may think Nicholas an old fool, but the fact that he is inclined to believe Adam innocent will weigh with many. Now, my dear, we must return you to your mama before she thinks you have been thoroughly corrupted.’

  When the duchess’s carriage pulled up in Sophia Street the following afternoon Lucasta hurried out, full of optimism. The duchess was wrapped up in velvet and furs against the chill spring air and she looked concerned as Lucasta was handed up.

  ‘My dear, do you have nothing warmer to put on? Your pelisse looks dreadfully thin for an open carriage.’

  ‘It is finest English wool, Your Grace and I have a warm gown beneath it.’

  ‘Well you shall have a rug across your knees.’ She signalled to the footman to perform this service. ‘It would, of course, be much warmer to be in a closed carriage but we must see and be seen in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour.’

  ‘It would also be more private,’ observed Lucasta, glancing at the liveried back of the coachman.

  ‘It would, of course, although I pay my people very well and in return I demand their total discretion. Besides, I have nothing to say that cannot be overheard.’ She sighed. ‘Unfortunately, Miss Symonds, there is very little to tell you. My lawyer informs me that he has been expressly warned not to talk to the valet. It seems the man fears that my godson will try to intimidate him.’

  ‘But that is monstrous!’

  ‘Of course it is, but there is nothing to be done. Just as there is nothing to be done about the fellow who is following us.’

  Lucasta twisted round and observed a solitary rider trotting along behind them.

  ‘He is in General Bradfield’s pay,’ explained the duchess. ‘A man has also been assigned to follow Kennington. Oh, you need not look so dismayed, my dear, one grows accustomed. However, it does restrict Adam: he wanted to go back to Hansford Common to find the footpads who accosted you, but now that is impossible. I think I must employ a thief-taker of my own.’

  ‘Do you think the general will have me followed too?’ asked Lucasta, a thoughtful crease on her brow.

  ‘Lord, I hope not! If he means to set a fellow on every one of my acquaintance, poor Nicholas will be a pauper by the end of the week.’ She broke off as they turned into Rotten Row. There were dozens of carriages to be seen and Lucasta was surprised when the duchess observed that it was exceedingly quiet. ‘Of course it is not yet April: at the height of the season one is reduced to a snail’s pace. Oh – look, there is Lady Spencer and her daughters. Pull up, Shankster, I will speak with the countess.’

  ‘Well, Lucasta, I hope you enjoyed your drive with the duchess?’

  ‘Yes, Mama, I did, thank you.’

  Unusually, Lady Symonds was dining at home with her daughters and there was nothing to distract her from Lucasta’s inconsiderate behaviour.

  ‘I should very much like to drive in Hyde Park,’ remarked Camilla, helping herself to buttered parsnips. ‘Everyone of fashion does so.’

  ‘Indeed they do,’ agreed Lucasta. ‘In one short drive we saw the duchess of Devonshire with her mama and her sister, Lady Bessborough. And when we drove along Piccadilly, the Duke of Queensberry was just stepping out of his house.’

  Lady Symonds’ knife clattered on to her plate.

  ‘Merciful heavens, did the duchess introduce you to all of them?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Lucasta, all wide-eyed innocence. ‘Her grace is acquainted with everyone.’

  ‘You delight in vexing me,’ retorted her mama, tight-lipped. ‘Is it not enough that you consort with murderers, you must also ally yourself with the Devonshire set?’

  ‘And March,’ murmured Lucasta. ‘The Duke of Queensberry was most friendly.’

  ‘Lucasta,’ breathed Camilla, shocked, ‘even I know better than to encourage that rake.’

  ‘So too do I,’ said Lucasta, a laugh trembling in her voice, ‘But I could not forbear to tease you both a little. I am very sorry,’ she ended contritely.

  ‘But the Devonshires,’ sighed Camilla, ‘If we were to become part of that set …’

  ‘We should need a great deal more money to spend,’ retorted Lady Symonds. ‘Not but what a little more investment might not pay dividends, for it would put Camilla into the way of many more eligible suitors. And you too, Lucasta.’

  ‘Thank you, Mama, but I have no wish to join you in this. I am already going abroad a great deal more than I would wish.’

  ‘You would be best to get yourself a husband and have done with it.’ put in Camilla. ‘It is plain from Papa’s letter that he does not want you at home.’

  Lucasta looked up. ‘What is this?’

  Lady Symonds dabbed at her lips with her napkin.

  ‘I received a letter today, from Oakfields. It arrived while you were out.’

  ‘Papa says you completely misunderstood the situation,’ said Camilla. ‘Squire Woodcote did intend to propose but there was not the least idea of coercion.’

  Lucasta stared at her mother.

  ‘And you believe that?’

  Lady Symonds looked uncomfortable.

  ‘You would not have me accuse your father of telling lies, I am sure.’

  Lucasta felt slightly sick.

  ‘You would not send me back, Mama.’

  ‘No, no, of course not. Although your father assures me Square Woodcote is now looking elsewhere for a bride. But I shall write again to your papa and tell him that now you are here I had as well keep you with me. And if we can find you a husband, all the better.’

  ‘You could come with us to Almack’s,’ suggested Camilla. ‘We would wait for you, if you wanted to change your gown.’

  But on this point Lucasta was adamant and she saw her mother and sister off before retiring to the drawing-room with her book. She had visited the assembly rooms last year during her own short come-out and had not enjoyed it. She had felt very much like a prize sow dragged out for inspection – no wonder Almack’s was known as the Marriage Mart. But there was another reason why she did not venture out that evening: she was expecting a visit from Jacob Potts.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  At precisely 11.30 she made her way downstairs to the domestic offices of the house, her darkest pelisse pulled around her. She tiptoed past the housekeeper’s sitting-room and let herself out through the cold, damp scullery. The house Lady Symonds had hired for the season was one of a terrace of town houses, each with a small yard at the back enclosed by a wall, too high to see over but easily scaled by an agile man and hopefully, thought Lucasta, by a man recovering from a leg wound. She hovered in the shadows of the house and soon saw a figure scrambling over the wall. She stepped forward.

  ‘Jacob?’

  ‘Aye, miss, it’s me. What news is there?’

  Briefly she told him of her meeting with the duchess and as she finished he muttered an oath, slamming his fist into his palm.

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but it fair irks me to think o’ that rogue cutting a sham!’

  ‘You do not think he could be innocent, that it really was footpads? After all, we were accosted on the same common only a few hours earlier.’

  ‘Aye, but that was on t’other side of the common. I grant you they could have struck again, but I don’t see them travelling that far. And that doesn’t explain Miesel’s describing my lord so perfectly, now, does it? Besides, having nothing better to do, I’ve been keeping an eye on Miesel and he seems to have a taste for low company. Keeps taking himself off to the seedy parts of the Town where he visits the pop-shops.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Pawnbrokers, miss. But not your regular brokers: I don’t reckon the ones Miesel visits pay their dues to the workhouses. And Sarah – Mrs Jessop that is �
� his landlady, she don’t like him neither.’

  ‘But that is not proof that he is a villain,’ replied Lucasta.

  ‘No. If we could prove he had the emeralds that would be something.’

  ‘Perhaps we can,’ she said slowly. ‘He goes out a great deal, does he? What if we were to search his lodgings?’

  Jacob Potts shook his head.

  ‘Very risky: he could return at any moment, then where would we be? Then there’s Mrs Jessop: she’s in her shop all day and would be bound to notice.’

  ‘Not necessarily. You could distract her, Jacob, and you could keep a lookout for Miesel at the same time while I search his room.’

  ‘No!’ Potts’ explosive whisper sent a prowling tomcat leaping away over the wall. ‘There’s no question of you doing such a thing, miss. Only think!’

  ‘I am thinking. With Adam and her grace being watched there is no one else to help.’

  It took her some considerable time to persuade Jacob to go along with her plan and it was only when he realized that she was prepared to attempt it alone that he agreed to help.

  ‘Good. We must waste no time, Jacob. Have a carriage waiting at the end of the lane here as soon as it is dark tomorrow night.’

  It was not difficult for Lucasta to feign a headache the following day and her mama was easily persuaded to leave her at home when she took Camilla out to be the belle of another fashionable ball. Lucasta shut herself in her room with instructions she was not to be disturbed and, as dusk was falling, she pulled out the boy’s clothes she had worn on her journey to London, ready for her nocturnal adventure.

  The noisy, narrow streets off Cheapside were a little daunting after the wide thoroughfares of the more fashionable part of town and Lucasta was glad she was not alone. Jacob Potts led her past crowded taverns and alehouses until they reached the bright windows of the cheesemonger. She could see a woman inside the lighted shop, piling up the large, muslin-wrapped cheeses. Lucasta observed with approval the clean windows and freshly scrubbed doorstep.

  ‘Mistress Jessop appears to be a proud housewife,’ she murmured, glancing up at Jacob. Something in his look made her add, ‘It’s enough to give a man a liking for fine cheese.’

  She smiled inwardly when he looked a little self-conscious, but her momentary good humour was replaced with anxiety when she thought of what must come next.

  ‘Well, Jacob, we had better get on.’

  ‘Aye, miss. There’s no light in the upstairs window so I’m pretty sure Miesel’s gone out.

  Lucasta breathed out slowly, trying to calm her nerves. She swallowed hard.

  ‘Very well then, if you go in and distract her, I will slip up the stairs.’

  Potts hesitated.

  ‘I don’t like it, miss, deceiving a good woman like this.’

  ‘Perhaps you would prefer to tell her the truth.’

  ‘Well, that I would, miss, and that’s a fact, but I don’t suppose she could agree to it.’

  ‘Of course she could not. Come, Jacob, she’s alone now: let us get it over with.’

  They crossed the street, Lucasta hanging back in the shadows as Jacob stepped over the threshold and hesitated at the inner doorway.

  ‘Oh, so it’s you come back again. Don’t tell me you’ve eaten a whole pound o’ cheese already!’

  ‘I’ve never known a mite with such a good range o’ cheeses as you have here, mistress …’

  As Mistress Jessop turned her back to the door Lucasta slipped inside and up the darkened staircase. The pungent smell from the shop followed her as she crept up the stairs and she was glad when the clatter of a passing wagon helped to cover the slight thud of her boots on the wooden treads. When she reached the top she paused, listening, but the only sound was the soft rumble of voices from the shop below. She felt in her pocket for the tinderbox and with shaking fingers managed to light the small stub of candle she had brought with her. There was a sudden moment of panic at the thought that the rooms might be locked, but the candlelight showed her three plain panelled doors. Jacob had told her that Miesel was renting the room at the front of the house, over the shop. There was no light showing beneath the door, and when Lucasta held her breath to listen she could hear no noise other than the erratic thudding of her own heart. Wiping her sweating palm against her jacket, she reached out and tried the handle.

  The door opened with barely a creak and she slipped into the room. Everything was neat and orderly, the narrow bed made up and curtains pulled across the window. The odour of cheese permeated the room, where it mixed with the smell of soap and soot and hair oil. If it had not been for the clothes folded neatly over the chair and the brush and comb lying amongst an assortment of bottles on top of a chest of drawers, she would have thought it unoccupied. Carefully putting down the candle she began to look through the drawers. Her hands were shaking and she felt quite sick, sure that at any moment she would be discovered. Only her determination to prove Adam’s innocence kept her from running away. The top drawer contained only clothes, neatly folded, but in the second she found a silver-backed brush and matching comb. Closer inspection showed the silver to be engraved with the initials TB. Talbot Bradfield. Was it normal, she wondered, for a servant to be given such things when his master died, or had Miesel helped himself to these valuable objects? Buried further down was an enamelled card case, various tie pins and a gold pocket watch. She guessed these were the goods he was pawning and it explained the use of illicit brokers – Miesel would not want it known that he was passing on his dead master’s goods. She shivered, carefully placed everything back as she had found it and continued her search.

  The drawers yielded nothing other than a few more trinkets and she turned her attention to the trunk at the end of the bed. A sudden burst of laughter from the shop below reminded her that Jacob was waiting for her. She must hurry; it would look suspicious if he was to tarry too long. Or would it? The thought became a little bubble of nervous laughter to mix with the fear inside her. It seemed there was a budding friendship between Jacob and the widow Jessop. She only hoped their exploits this evening would not jeopardize it. Swiftly she opened the trunk and searched through the contents, checking coat pockets, feeling between folds of material. There was nothing. Carefully she replaced the clothes and closed the trunk. She looked in desperation around the little room. She had no time to move the furniture, nor could she make any noise without risking detection.

  In a final, desperate bid she took the stub of candle and knelt down to look under the bed. The flickering light showed her that there was nothing there except the chamber pot. She noticed an extended shadow where one of the floorboards was not quite flat. She reached out and pressed the corner: it felt loose. Carefully she moved the chamber pot to one side and closed her trembling fingers around the edge of the board. It came away surprisingly easily, for it was a very short length, recently cut. Her heart began to beat so hard she could not breathe. Fighting down very rational fears of mice and spiders lurking in dark places she reached into the space beneath the boards and almost immediately her fingers closed around a leather pouch. She pulled it out and sat back, hardly daring to believe what she had done. Untying the strings of the pouch, she tipped it up and onto her outstretched palm slithered a glittering emerald necklace.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‘… I sell cheeses from all over the country, many brought in by sea. Those truckles came in today from the north country.’ Sarah Jessop indicated the large cheeses stacked on the counter. Jacob nodded, impressed. He was leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room so that Sarah had her back turned to the door as she talked to him.

  ‘And your husband was a cheesemonger too?’

  ‘He didn’t start as a mite. He was a cheese maker. Aye, and he was good, too, God rest his soul. Finest in Hampshire, until he decided to come to London and open his own shop. His family still make cheese there, you know, and send it up for me to sell.’

  ‘Have you never thought of going
back to Hampshire then?’

  Her ready laugh burst forth again. Jacob admired the smooth line of her throat as she tilted her head back. She regarded him with a merry twinkle in her eyes.

  ‘What, go back to live with the family and lose my independence? Why ever should I want to do that?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. It must be hard, without a husband, running a business.’

  ‘Aye it is, but I can buy in labour when I need it: I don’t need to marry a man for that.’

  From the corner of his eye Jacob glimpsed a slight figure slipping out of the door. Miss Symonds was done. He pushed himself upright and was aware of a slight feeling of regret mingled with his relief that the job was over. He picked up the package from the counter.

  ‘I look forward to having a taste o’ this for me supper. Thank you again, Mistress Jessop. Perhaps I’ll come back and try all your cheeses.’

  Her laughing eyes rested on him for a long moment, appraising him.

  ‘Aye,’ she said, ‘mayhap you will.’

  Jacob doffed his cap and limped out, looking neither right nor left until he came to the corner of the street, where Miss Symonds was waiting for him, hands stuffed into the pockets of her ill-fitting jacket and her muffler wound around her face.

  ‘I expected you to follow me immediately, Jacob. What kept you?’

  ‘I had to finish me conversation with Mistress Jessop. Wouldn’t do to make her suspicious.’ He smiled. And it had not been an onerous task to be pleasant to the widow. ‘Well, did you find the necklace?’

  Even in the dim lamplight he could see the excitement shining in her eyes.

  ‘Yes, it was hidden in a bag under the floor.’

  She turned to walk beside him.

  ‘Good. Let us find a cab and you can show me.’

  ‘I haven’t got it.’

  Jacob stopped.

  ‘What?’