Chapter Eight #2
“Makes sense,” Mrs. Right said. She had come down the last step.
Rows of shelves holding hundreds of bottles of various shapes and sizes gathered dust in the gloom.
She felt a chill go down her back and assured herself it was only the damp of the cellar and not the idea that Mr. Wicket might be down here somewhere.
Mrs. Right led the way, determined not to give away any trepidation she might feel.
If the staff were to sense it, they’d fall apart.
The crates were just ahead. Mrs. Right peered at the nails that held the lid closed as she did have a small idea that Mr. Wicket might be inside one of them, but everything appeared secure.
Charlie began working to pry open the one on top.
He popped the last nail and began digging through the hay packing for a bottle.
As he did so, Mrs. Right looked warily around her.
Then her eyes scanned the floor. Just to the right of her shoe, there was a folded sheet of paper lying on the floor. At first, she thought it must be a bill of lading, until she squinted and read the first line. For Mr. Tobias Wicket.
Charlie fished out a bottle of Mr. Perry’s sack. “Got it,” he said.
“Excellent, Charlie. Go ahead, I’ll bring up the rear, we should not like to leave the duke waiting.”
Charlie nodded and proceeded toward the stairs. Mrs. Right swept up the paper and put it in her pocket before following him out.
*
Winsome had entirely lost track of her goal as she spoke to Lord Manderbey at table.
She was supposed to be discovering if he was deep in debt from gambling.
She was supposed to be finding out if he had the sort of temperament that would lead down a very dark path.
She was supposed to be discovering if he could be trusted to care for a wife or whether he was on a dowry hunt to solve financial woes.
She was supposed to be adding up the cold hard facts and if they ran against him, then she must dismiss him from her thoughts.
What had she done instead? She’d had a very interesting conversation with him about everything in the world but that. She’d been positively entranced when he’d spoken of Torquay—how she would like to see it!
Now, Valor and Grace had pushed the ottoman into the center of the room while Felicity and Mr. Stratton had directed the arranging of the chairs in a circle round it.
Lord Manderbey had led her to a chair and taken the one next to her.
Valor laid the yellow and blue tickets on the ottoman. “The game is simple. We’ll ask a question and then if it’s a fact you get a yellow ticket and if it’s a fib you get blue. Two yellow tickets wins, but a blue cancels a yellow.”
“Do not make any attempts to win, Manderbey,” the duke said. “It cannot be done.”
“This sounds amusing,” the dowager said. “Why have I never heard of this?”
“Because they made it up, Your Grace,” Lord Thorpe said.
“That’s why you cannot win, now or any other day,” Lord Dashlend said resignedly.
“No Dashlend, it’s only gentlemen who cannot win,” Lord Wembly said. “At least, from what I’ve seen so far. Her Grace might have a very good shot at it.”
Thomas had poured the gentlemen their port, and now Charlie hurried in with Mr. Perry’s sack for the dowager.
“I go first,” Valor said. “One, because I am my papa’s hostess, even though Felicity was sitting in the hostess chair at dinner and I don’t know why, and two, because I get tired and might say something shocking when I do.”
“Now that’s a fact,” the duke said jovially. “Award yourself a yellow ticket, Val.”
Valor took a ticket and showed it to Sir Galahad. As was always the case, the pug was not terribly interested in anything that could not be eaten and only yawned in response. Valor turned her sights on Lord Manderbey, which Winsome had been both expecting and leery of.
“Lord Manderbey,” Valor said, “could you really be comfortable with the idea of stealing a sister from another sister who only had one left? Especially if that meant the other sister was to be left all alone?”
The duke snorted. “Very subtle, Val.”
Winsome could feel the blood rush to her face.
She was not in front of a looking glass, but presumed she was as red as a bowl of cherries.
Valor was really too presumptuous! Lord Manderbey was being cornered and it was embarrassing.
What happened to the usual question of what did the gentleman first notice?
“I suppose I would sympathize with that sister, but such sympathy could not be the deciding factor,” Lord Manderbey said.
Valor rose. “I do not want your sympathy. Sir. I cannot talk to sympathy, can I? I cannot walk the hills of the Dales with sympathy, can I? I cannot catch sympathy’s eye and make sympathy laugh in church, can I?
” This was all said in a tone that might chill a villain’s heart.
She picked up Sir Galahad and marched from the room.
“Well now, we’ve seen worst, Manderbey,” the duke said. “Several of my sons-in-laws have had blue tickets thrown in their face. Consider yourself to have got off lightly.”
“She’s a sparky little thing,” the dowager said, sipping on her sack.
“Perhaps we should retreat to more usual questions,” Verity said. “Lord Manderbey, what was the first thing you noticed about Winsome?”
That was the question Winsome had been fully expecting. She’d always found it so interesting to hear what the gentleman would say when he was asked the same of her sisters. Now that it was herself, well…she did not suppose she was any less red than she’d started.
“Notice?” Lord Manderbey asked.
“Yes, what struck you?” Felicity said.
“I see. I was almost going to reach for some commonplace sort of answer but I will say it as it was—it is the freckles on her nose. I like freckles.”
Her freckles? Goodness that was the last thing she imagined he’d say. She did not admire them herself. She was forever going out to the gardens without her bonnet when it was hot and then scolding herself later over it on account of the freckling it produced.
“And the copper tones of her hair,” Lord Manderbey added.
Two things. He’d mentioned two things. Winsome did not recall any of her brothers-in-law ever mentioning two things. Her sisters all looked very approving of it.
“Fact,” Verity said, handing him a blue ticket.
“Now, I do not think we ought to gang up on Lord Manderbey,” Serenity said, “but I do have a question. Lord Manderbey, would you say gambling is an acceptable pastime, even if a great deal of money is spent?”
Winsome stole a glance at him to see his reaction to Serenity’s question. It was the answer she really needed to hear the most.
“Do you mean cards?” Lord Manderbey asked.
“Or dice or horseraces or just bets in general,” Serenity said.
“I am unfortunate enough to have some personal experience with the results of excessive gambling. So, perhaps it is not so much acceptable as it is nevertheless commonly done.”
What did he mean? He was unfortunate to have personal experience? Did he somehow blame a lack of luck at the tables for excessive losses?
Winsome’s heart was slowly sinking. She had hoped against hope that he was not a profligate gambler.
Another lady might be fooled into thinking it was no matter, but she knew otherwise!
She knew of a real-life case where a lady was fooled and now lived miserably.
She knew of an untold number of cases in her novels where money was at the heart of the villainy.
She had promised herself she would not be taken in by a rogue. She had thought all she need do was spot it and had considered some of the ladies in her novels rather stupid for being faced with evidence and ignoring it at their peril.
So why on earth did she have a great desire to ignore all the evidence about Lord Manderbey?
Winsome supposed she’d been foolish to underestimate feelings and how they might work to upend rational thinking.
The dowager picked up two tickets, one yellow and one blue. She held one in each hand. “Manderbey, why do I not have grandchildren yet?”
Lord Manderbey narrowed his eyes at his grandmother. “Because I am not yet wed,” he said.
“And that,” the dowager said, throwing a yellow ticket at him, “is unfortunately a fact.”
The game went on and Winsome was pressed to name what she’d first noticed about Lord Manderbey. She answered that it had been his urbane manner and it was deemed a fact.
Eventually, and after several glasses of sack, the dowager fell to musing on questions and then answering them herself.
The questions centered on how long she had to live before seeing grandchildren, wondering how many grandchildren other women her age already had, and speculating that Lord Manderbey would be very sorry if she were to die without them.
She awarded herself a yellow ticket for each answer and the duke jovially declared her the winner.
All through it, Winsome fought with her own ideas. Was she to succumb to a rogue? Or was she to stick with what she knew to be true and run in the other direction? Even if the running away would feel like a slog through deep mud, always trying to pull her back.
*
After Mrs. Right had followed Charlie up the stairs from the wine cellar, she’d gone back to the kitchens to establish some sort of order there.
The kitchen maids were reminded that they might sleep together in the same bed if it helped them feel safe, they had a sturdy lock on their bedchamber door, and Mrs. Right would personally search the room before they retired.
She then pointed out that no man, not even the disappearing Mr. Wicket, would dare set foot into the women’s side of the quarters.
Adding in two generous glasses of the servants’ supply of sherry had gone a long way toward restoring calm.
Now she hurried into the housekeeper’s closet and shut the door.
It was good-sized room, actually meant to be the butler’s closet.
It had a small sofa and two chairs, a small hearth, a desk for writing, drawers filled with the silver of the house, and shelves of carefully wrapped porcelain settings.
As it was the butler’s closet and as a butler was lurking around somewhere, she peered round the dim room to assure herself that it was uninhabited. It was empty, so she placed her candle on the desk and pulled the note she’d found in the wine cellar from her pocket.
For Mr. Tobias Wicket—
We have been informed that you have resigned your post with His Majesty’s government and taken up a position with the Duke of Pelham’s household. We consider this a loss, however we are confident that you hold the security of England as dear as you ever have.
Therefore, in an unofficial role, we ask that you keep your discerning ear to the ground.
There is a certain lord who has got himself in rather deep through gambling losses.
So deep that we fear he may be vulnerable to bribery or threats from our enemies, particularly if he were to find himself on foreign soil.
As he is of marriageable age, and as the Duke of Pelham appears to have a never-ending supply of eligible daughters who are particularly well funded, we speculate that this individual may make an appearance at the house.
He may be looking at every avenue to raise funds and a dowry is as good as any.
If that is the case, I am sure you will find opportunities to listen at doors and search overcoat pockets.
We leave you with this hint, so you might better understand the crown’s particular interest in this target: TRULOGAP
LC
So Mr. Wicket actually had been some sort of spy. Mrs. Right had considered the possibility that he’d made the whole thing up but that did not seem to be the case.
She could not make heads nor tails of the letter, other than they must be cautious of gentlemen coming into the house. Who, though? And who had sent the letter in the first place. LC…the L could be for Lord…Lord Somebody starting with a C.
She could not work it out. However, ought they not be cautious of gentlemen approaching Winsome at other houses? That might be out of reach for Mr. Wicket, but it was not for Mrs. Right. She would warn Winsome to keep her guard up.
Of course, Mrs. Right reminded herself that Winsome did always have her guard up.
Suspicion was in her nature. In any case, as far as she could tell, things were going rather well with Lord Manderbey.
If things were to proceed as it looked as if they might, an engagement would stop any unsavory types in their tracks.
Nevertheless, she would warn her, just to be on the safe side of things.
Mrs. Right folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket. If only she could work out what a TRULOGAP was.