Chapter Twenty #2
The fellow was not of his station and it had been interesting to hear his views on things.
He was not admiring of Lady Dudmore and thought her annual party was stupid.
They were agreed on that point. Lucas said there were people in this neighborhood who were just managing to get food on the table and there was the lady in the big house squandering money on frivolity. It was sinful, in his view.
Lord Chester had not quite agreed on that point, though it did give him pause that people like Lucas had the temerity to think such things.
Whatever their differences in opinion, Lucas had several times delivered a piece of information Lord Chester could use, and this was one of them.
He’d donned his drab overcoat, borrowed a well-worn hat with a low brim from Lucas, and made his way there.
Drifting through the crowd of local people who were relegated to standing behind Lady Dudmore’s guests, he watched the queen ceremoniously light a large torch.
This sent the sailors scrambling to get their sails up and push off from the banks.
Lord Chester rubbed his hands together. In not too long a time, Harrelston would find himself swimming to shore.
The sailors had got into their boats and were handed torches by a line of footmen. Lord Chester had not considered that.
Some of the men refused a torch, which might not be a bad idea. With only two hands, how was a gentleman to hold a torch, steer the tiller, adjust the sail, and scoop up eggs?
He hoped, upon considering it, that Monroe was one of the gentlemen who had seen the impossibility of it.
He could not tell, as it was hard to see who was where. As the boats moved further out on the lake, they became easier to see as they were drifting in front of the line of torches in front of the onlookers. Then the clouds that had drifted over the moon moved on and there was even more light.
Monroe seemed to be waving his hands at whatever appeared to be the biggest emergency. His torch swung wildly and his sail luffed as he drifted out onto the lake.
At least he was headed out, even if it was in an awkward manner.
A number of the other gentlemen had not even managed to get off the bank.
Lord Henries was attempting to lash his torch to a cleat, which would probably end in disaster.
Lord James had taken note of Harrelston and handed his torch back, but was still struggling with his sail.
Lord Melburn had dispensed with the sail and was attempting to row out with a paddle.
He at least got a bit further than the others and managed to find an egg.
He held it up in victory as if the game was won.
Harrelston was well ahead, though Lord Chester was not certain that would matter. It was not a usual regatta where the first rounding the buoys won. The winner would be the gentleman who managed to find the most of those stupid eggs.
Lord Chester squinted. Was that a net? Did Harrelston have a net? Where did he get a net? Why did not they think of getting a net?
Lord Chester took a breath. It mattered not. Harrelston would soon be sinking, net and all.
He was a bit cheered to see Monroe seeming to get hold of things.
Harrelston was scooping piles of eggs into his boat with his net.
Lord Chester had the hope that when Harrelston sank, Monroe could come up behind and get them as they popped to the surface.
It might be an unlooked-for opportunity.
Harrelston was gathering all those eggs in the same relative location, ready to be picked off when that lord sank.
“Hah! Look at that,” a farmer who stood in front of him said. “Looks to be one of them captains is about to go down with his ship.”
“Serve him right,” the farmer’s companion said. “I hope they all sink. That would be jolly, eh?”
“Oh aye, that’d be a story we could tell in the tavern for years to come.”
“That’s right—the lord’s final salute to the elegant company before disappearing under the waves.”
This was the moment. All Lord Chester’s hard work was set to pay off. The hours of drilling holes in Harrelston’s boat were about to bear fruit. The flour and water paste had begun to dissolve, and his boat was slowly sinking. He stood on his toes to get a better look.
Why did it seem like it was Lord Chester’s boat sinking lower? It was impossible.
But it was true.
Monroe stood and was shouting at the shore and waving his torch. Then his waving torch set his sail alight. Which went up surprisingly quickly.
My God. It looked like a Viking funeral at sea.
Monroe fended off the fiery sail as his boat slowly sank.
Black smoke occasionally blocked the view of what was happening.
The last thing Lord Chester saw was Monroe’s coattails catch fire and the gentleman jump into the lake, flailing around like a fool.
Harrelston did not even look back. He continued on with his damnable net.
A group of men on the other side of the lake, who had apparently been standing by for just such a ridiculous situation, launched rowboats. They rowed out with vigor and dragged Monroe aboard.
“I’m all right!” Monroe yelled to the crowd as the men rowed him to the opposite shore.
Lord Chester slipped away from the crowd. What had happened? Had they changed which gentleman was assigned to which boat at the last minute?
Whatever had gone on, it was a complete rout, and not in their favor.
It was enraging! Harrelston was meant to sink like a stone and have to swim to shore like a rube.
Now Harrelston was cruising along, scooping up eggs with a net.
If he had one of the blunt tip arrows Lady Dudmore had supplied for archery, he’d be happy to light it on fire and shoot it at Harrelston’s sail.
He did not know what could be done to salvage things at this point, but he had agreed to meet Monroe in the wood after the regatta. Maybe he would think of something.
At the moment, the only thing coming to him was to burn the whole place down and call it a day.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Corbyn had thought he’d given himself an advantage by making a net, and he had. He’d not expected the other advantages coming his way, though. Lord Monroe seemed to be a master of disaster. He’d somehow managed to sink his boat and set it afire.
He could not even work out how Monroe did it.
After he’d noted Lord Monroe going down with his ship, he’d seen the rowers coming out to fetch him so did not feel any gentlemanly duty to turn round and effect a rescue himself.
Rather, he’d gone on, his sheet line set on its cleat, leaning back with the tiller in one hand and his net in the other. Occasionally, he brought the net up and deposited the eggs he’d scooped into the bottom of the boat.
He’d collected a surprising number of them and could not imagine how many Lady Dudmore had deposited in the lake.
Corbyn came about and began the return sail, though that was to be a tack. He’d had to tack back and forth a number of times before once more reaching shore.
Lord James had never got off the banks at all. He’d just now thrown his sail down in disgust. Lord Henries had floated ten feet out, but he’d tied his torch to a cleat and it kept coming loose. Now, he threw it into the lake and was waving his hands through the water, searching for an egg.
Whatever was to be the end of this, Corbyn could at least be assured he’d won. Two footmen met his boat, one carrying a sack. They began to count out the eggs rolling around in the bottom of his boat.
The final count was twenty-two. Nobody would beat it.
Lady Dudmore hurried over. “Gentlemen,” she called, “that is probably sufficient. Or as the queen has put it, she’s seen enough. If you’ve found any eggs, hand them over to one of my footmen for counting. Now it is time to dress for the ball.”
Corbyn was glad it was over. He’d come to this charade of a party because Lady Beatrix had come. He was determined he would never come again. Bizarre archery, one-armed billiards, and a nighttime regatta had seen the last of him.
He walked back toward the crowd, finally spotting Lady Beatrix. He hurried his stride to catch up with her.
“Lord Harrelston,” she said, smiling at him, “you seem to have done rather well for yourself.”
“I believe so, as ridiculous as it was.”
“I did not see that the other gentlemen had a net, that was clever.”
“My valet and I constructed it as soon as we were made aware of the event. I could not see how else to do it.”
Lady Beatrix nodded approvingly. “As I said, very clever.”
“I wonder, Lady Beatrix, might I request the first dance at the ball. I feel I must consult both you and the earl, as it is to be a waltz. Well not entirely a waltz, it is the Russian Ambassador’s waltz. So, a country dance with some waltz-like figures. The queen has sanctioned it.”
“If the queen sanctions it,” the earl said, “far be it for me to be against it.”
“I am not against it either,” Lady Beatrix said. “Though, I do not know the steps.”
“Most will not, I do not think. I’ve heard Lady Dudmore is to outline the steps ahead of time.”
“That is considerate,” Lady Beatrix said. “Miss Sprite will have never thought of it.”
Corbyn suppressed a smile, as he did not wish to hint at anything against Miss Sprite in front of her employers. Of course Miss Sprite would never have thought of it. It was rather surprising that Miss Sprite thought of any dancing at all.
They reached the house and Corbyn reluctantly parted ways with Lady Beatrix.
He would don his ridiculous badger costume and tuck the trinket he’d purchased at Rundell & Bridge in a pocket.
He’d got a lovely bracelet of topaz stones set in platinum and running all the way round the wrist. He thought it was serendipitous, as it fairly matched the topaz bandeau she’d worn in her hair that first night.
He hurried to his room and found Farber there waiting for him.
“I’ve done my bit down at the lake,” Corbyn said.
“Aye, I was there, saw the whole ridiculous thing.”
“Did you discover anything at The Bleeding Boar?” Corbyn asked.
“Didn’t I just. Lord Chester has been there the whole time.
It was his carriage that dropped Monroe here before continuing on.
Meanwhile, Chester has got chummy with one of the lads that works there, a young man named Lucas.
Lucas is apparently happy to talk to anyone who wishes to buy him some ale or wine, so that’s what I did.
He told me all about Lady Dudmore’s party, he thinks it’s stupid. ”
“Don’t we all.”
“Aye, and he told me a story he deemed “hilarious.” His friend, who is staying at the inn, that would be Lord Chester, drilled holes in the bottom of your boat and filled the holes with a paste of flour and water. Lucas snuck the flour out of the kitchens himself. You see, the paste would dissolve in the lake and the boat would sink.”
“But it was Lord Monroe’s boat that sank.”
“That’s where it gets funny. Lucas said the boat to be meddled with was the green one, closest.”
Corbyn thought that through. “So, Monroe would have said closest, but Chester never bothered to confirm whether that was closest to the house or the wood?”
“It seems so. I thought I better keep an eye on the regatta in case you were to go down with the ship. Imagine my amusement when I saw Monroe sink. As well, I am fairly sure Chester was lurking around, but he slipped off before I could get close enough. If it was him, he was disguising himself as one of the villagers.”
“What are those two up too, though,” Corbyn said, tapping his chin.
“I’ve got a theory,” Farber said. “It’s only a theory, mind you.
I know Chester has helped Monroe financially, keeping him afloat.
What if the deal is supposed to reverse course?
What if Monroe is meant to get his hands on Lady Beatrix’s dowry and keep Chester afloat until he sorts it with his viscount. ”
“You think his viscount may have threatened to cut him off?”
“Might have. A man like Chester will go to desperate measures in such a circumstance. If he is not a rich fool keeping an actress and raising trouble all over Town, what is he? I’ve heard tell that he’s got a small estate under his control, but he’s let it fall to ruin.
He told Lucas he was not a farmer and could not be expected to keep up with it.
By the by, Lucas thought that was stupid, as if he had a farm he would keep up with it. ”
“I hope to put an end to whatever they are trying to accomplish this very night. Keep an eye on Monroe as best you can. And Chester if he has the nerve to return.”
Farber rubbed his hands together. “This little party has got far more interesting that I’d anticipated.”