Page 11 of A Gentleman’s Offer

10

Without delay, Dominic sent a note to Miss Nightingale; it was discreet in its wording, but made it quite clear that he had news to share, and proposed that he call on her and take her driving later in the day. His messenger, one of his footmen, waited for a reply, which was a prompt acceptance.

It was another fine, bright afternoon, with a breeze that sent fluffy white clouds scudding fast across the blue sky, and in other circumstances Dominic might have agreed with Dr Johnson that there could be no greater enjoyment in life than to go for a drive in the sunshine with an attractive female companion at his side. But this was not to be an expedition of pleasure.

His high-perch phaeton had barely slowed outside Meg’s father’s house when she came hurrying down the steps to meet him, rather than dawdling gracefully out like an affected young lady of fashion. She was wearing a dark green pelisse laced with gold, and a velvet Circassian cap in the same shade sat on her bright curls; unlike a more traditional poke bonnet, it did not obscure her face in the slightest, and offered him an excellent view of her expression, which showed mingled eagerness and anxious curiosity. Once again he was struck by how the same lineaments could be so much more expressive in one woman than in another, supposedly identical.

Fishwick jumped down from the seat and handed her up into it, taking his place in the precarious tiger’s perch at the rear. Dominic set his bays in motion, and was occupied for a moment in negotiating a snarl in the traffic caused by an overloaded furniture wagon, clumsily driven, that was partially blocking the exit from the square. He was a notable whip and a member of the Four Horse Club, but he was not so puffed up in his skill that he would disregard the need to concentrate at tricky moments. He had no desire to overset his precious cargo, or experience an upset himself; life was complicated enough already.

‘Miss Margaret,’ he said at last, the obstacle behind them and the way momentarily clear, ‘I have brought my groom Jack Fishwick with me rather than my tiger today because any success we’ve had in our enquiries – and I must warn you that it is by no means clear yet that it is success – is entirely due to his diligence on your behalf.’

Miss Nightingale turned in her seat to thank Jack warmly, and he responded gruffly – clearly highly gratified – that there was no need for that at all, miss, for he was happy to help. Dominic went on, ‘Jack and my valet, Pargeter, have been looking into that list of servants Mrs Treadwell gave me, and he has discovered something – perhaps merely a strange coincidence of timing, perhaps something more than that.’ He went on to tell her the tale of the vanishing lady’s maid and her unwelcome suitor; he did not mince his words when he came to describe the nature of the house in which the young woman appeared to have taken refuge. ‘And so you see,’ he finished, ‘although it may be a clue, and there’s no denying it’s the only one we have at present, we have no reason at all to believe that your sister is sheltering in that place too, nor even that the former abigail knows anything of her whereabouts.’

‘Jenny Wood,’ said Meg musingly. ‘Of course I have never met her, but I remember Maria writing of her in her letters. Life in my father’s house, you know, was so very tedious before Maria made her come-out that she described everything and everyone to me, as a way of passing the time and making us feel closer in our day-to-day existence though we could not be together; I did the same when I wrote to her. And all I know of Jenny is that she was a most respectable young woman – intelligent, and skilled at performing her duties, and quiet. I think Maria was quite fond of her. She would not be at all likely, from what my sister said, to run off in such a manner, and to such a place. Her experience with the horrible footman sounds most disagreeable, but I would have hoped she had other alternatives, rather than…’

Dominic said, ‘One would think so. She could have complained to her mistress, or, if she did not want to do that, perhaps because she feared this young man’s anger and revenge, she might have sought another position. I agree that it is iniquitous that she should have to so uproot herself, when she had done nothing wrong, but the choice that she appears to have made still seems odd to me. I wonder if she has a home and family she could turn to for help, or if she is alone in the world?’

‘I have no idea; I will ask Hannah. We do not know all the circumstances, of course,’ Meg responded. ‘It’s possible poor Jenny tried to find another place, and for some reason could not do so, or not quickly enough for her liking. Has it occurred to you that this unpleasant young man may not be telling the whole truth – that he might have assaulted her, or otherwise made her life in that house unendurable, so that she felt obliged to leave immediately and simply had nowhere else to go?’

‘You’re right.’ They were in the park now, and Dominic paused to set Jack Fishwick down, telling him they’d be back to pick him up in the same place in a half-hour or so. His mouth was a grim line as he set the horses moving once more. ‘We don’t know, and still we have no reason to believe that she has been in communication with your sister. But clearly we – I – need to investigate further, by visiting the place.’

‘Of course we do,’ Meg said, entirely ignoring the careful distinction he had drawn. ‘And as soon as possible. Shall we go tonight? I think we should.’

* * *

Dominic hadn’t been surprised when it became clear that Miss Nightingale wished to accompany him to Covent Garden. He’d expected her concern for her sister and her active, lively personality to demand immediate action, and also to demand that she should be a part of that action, as the one most nearly concerned in the matter. But the idea was clearly utterly ineligible, even preposterous, and he had anticipated no difficulty in persuading her of that fact.

He thought she had come to trust him after her early suspicion, and he’d imagined that every instinct instilled into a gently bred young lady over the years of her upbringing would, in the end, compel her to agree that he was right. She must eventually approve his intention of going alone to such a shocking place and telling her about the matter afterwards, however awkward that conversation might prove to be. He was known throughout the haut ton as a man of great address, and one equal to dealing with equanimity with any situation life might throw in his way. Such a person could surely quite easily convince a sheltered country girl of eighteen that no, she could not join her sister’s fiancé on a night-time visit to a known brothel in Covent Garden – not that the time of day mattered one jot, nor the location of the house of ill repute – to enquire after one of its disreputable inhabitants.

He had been wrong. Painfully wrong. He had plainly overestimated his own powers of persuasion, or entirely misunderstood the nature of Miss Nightingale’s education under the direction of her bluestocking mother, or perhaps both. She was entirely immoveable. ‘Of course I’m coming with you,’ she said serenely.

Dominic was lost for words for a moment. When his wits returned to him, he waxed eloquent, and embarked on what he felt, even as he was giving it, to be an elegantly expressed and perfectly reasoned little speech – not that it should be in the least necessary – explaining, forcefully, but without any improper dwelling on sordid details, why it was quite impossible that Miss Nightingale should go with him to Henrietta Street, that evening or any other evening. Considering he was still controlling his high-couraged team of bays and steering his fashionably precarious high-perch phaeton through the throng of similar vehicles as he spoke, he must consider it to be an impressive effort. He didn’t know what more he could have said, nor how better he could have said it. But it was all utterly futile.

‘I won’t take you,’ he said baldly in the end, glancing at her resolute face for a second. It was all too clear to him that she did not appear to be in the least cast down or chastened by his refusal. He began to experience a sense of alarm.

‘Then I’ll go by myself. You’ve told me where it is, luckily.’

Dominic swore involuntarily, and his companion let out an unladylike little snort of laughter. ‘Precisely so, sir,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t been so shortsighted as to give me the direction of the place, it would have been much harder, of course, but since you have, there can be nothing to prevent me from going there myself and making enquiries.’

‘Every decent feeling revolts against the idea,’ he muttered though gritted teeth.

‘Does it?’ she responded calmly. ‘Perhaps I am devoid of decent feeling, then. My father always used to say so, when I was young and we were always arguing so dreadfully because I would not show him the respect he felt he deserved. He said many times that I was a hoyden, without manners or breeding. And now I am glad if he was right, if manners and breeding would make me so foolish as to refuse to do everything – everything, sir! – that lies in my power to help my sister when she may, for all I know, be in the most terrible trouble! She could be a prisoner in that house, along with poor Jenny – they could have been tricked there by some foul deceit. Have you thought of that?’

He had. Since he had understood with dawning horror how determined and unshakeable she was, many visions, all vivid, all utterly dreadful, had been presenting themselves to him, in a sort of depraved magic lantern show that flickered behind his eyelids. ‘Jenny, for one, isn’t a captive,’ he said shortly. ‘The fellow saw her returning from some nocturnal expedition, so she’s clearly under no constraint. But yes, you are so far correct in that she could have tricked your sister there with some false promises of assistance. Dammit, woman, she could be in league with the people who keep the place, she could have sold your sister to them by prearranged plan, for all we know! And if you go there by yourself, she could do the same to you!’ His mind was in such turmoil at his failure to impress upon her the seriousness of the situation that he couldn’t prevent himself from adding crudely, ‘I expect a certain unconscionable sort of villain would pay a substantial premium for a pair of lovely, gently bred twins! It is plain to me, Miss Margaret Nightingale, that you know nothing at all of the world and its iniquity!’

‘Nonsense! And if Maria is indeed in such terrible trouble, there is all the more reason I should not delay, but go to rescue her as soon as possible. But I’m sure you are exaggerating. You really shouldn’t let yourself fall prey to such Gothic imaginings, sir; it isn’t all helpful.’

‘Helpful?’ he said in extreme exasperation. If he’d had a free hand, he’d have been clutching his hair, with no thought for its modish Windswept style or for anyone who might see him in a state of such unaccustomed agitation. ‘Helpful? Have you no concern for your reputation, madam? Or for your sister’s, if you have no care for your own? Imagine if you – which is to say, she – should be seen entering such a place, or even observed by someone who knows you, out at night, alone, with me! With any man! You would be utterly ruined! And it wouldn’t do me enormous amounts of good, either, though naturally I can’t expect you to give a fig for that, I’m quite aware.’

‘Why should anyone who knows me see me?’ she asked. He couldn’t tell if she was being disingenuous or not. A vision of putting her over his knee and spanking her popped into his head, but he pushed it away as unhelpful .

‘It’s a bloody brothel,’ he said between gritted teeth. ‘A place where women sell themselves. Young men of good family – I’m sorry to break it to you – and older men, for that matter, go to brothels. Half the members of White’s and Brooks’s, half the people you’ve danced with at Almack’s, for all I know, could be trooping in and out of the place on a regular basis. Forming queues in the street. My credit will certainly survive being seen there, if not scandalously accompanied by you; yours, I assure you, would not, whether with me or alone!’

‘I’ve never danced at Almack’s,’ she replied, infuriatingly.

‘No,’ he ground out. ‘I am well aware of that. But your identical twin sister has.’

‘You’re right, of course.’ Her composure was unshaken; for him, it was otherwise. ‘It is just as well to think coolly of these matters, and you do well to reprove me. I am most concerned for Maria’s safety, naturally, but it would be idle to pretend that I have no care at all for her reputation. Of course I do! Otherwise I might as well have let you tell my father the truth some days ago, and allow the whole sorry story to become public. Naturally she – and therefore I – must not be seen in such a shocking place.’

He felt almost weak with relief. ‘Thank God you have come to your senses,’ he said faintly.

‘I was never out of my senses, sir, I assure you. But I have thought of a better plan, and one that you cannot possibly object to, for it deals with all these heart-burnings in the most ingenious manner possible. Indeed, I do not know why I did not think of it directly, but I am excessively glad I have now.’

Dominic felt he was learning fast, and so his heart did not leap with joy at the intelligence his companion shared with him so confidingly. He hated to think what her better plan might be. He was tempted to take his eyes off the horses, the carriageway and the scene ahead of him, and look at her maddening little face again, but he did not. He also resisted the instinct to grip the ribbons more tightly, convulsively, with results in the behaviour of the horses that he could all too easily imagine. ‘Tell me…’ he said, his voice a trifle hollow. ‘Tell me what deranged and probably dangerous scheme you have now devised to bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.’

‘You haven’t got any grey hairs that I can see, surprisingly, and if as I suspect that’s the Bible, I wonder you should think this the time to be indulging in religious quotations.’

‘It’s something truly terrible, isn’t it? I know it is. I insist that you tell me immediately.’

‘It’s not terrible at all. It’s genius. I shall disguise myself as a boy.’