Page 11 of A Wallflower Demands Satisfaction
The unknown man left about twenty to thirty minutes later carrying a thick envelope.Several minutes after his exit, the performer herself left through the side stage door, her shoulders slumped and her head down.
One day Will ventured into the theater and introduced himself to the stage manager.“I’ve been on this beat a few weeks, and I’ve noticed a man who seems not to be a performer going through the stage door each day at the same time.Is he an employee here?”
The other man tilted his head and gave Will an odd look.“Are you one of those boys who can’t stop eyeing Miss Villeneuve?”
Will steeled himself not to react or, God forbid, flush bright red.“I’m merely executing my duty, sir.”
“If you’re going to watch over the theatre, then you might want to acquaint yourself with the ways of opera singers, actresses, and the like.The man you’re concerned about is Baron Barclay Reynolds, and I presume he’s, um, one of Miss Villeneuve’s protectors.”
“Thank you sir, for all your help.”Will slapped the dust off his stovepipe hat against one trouser leg, gave the manager a short bow, and escaped back out onto the street to trot back to his regular beat.A week wasted, and he was no closer to finding out what had so terrified Olivia’s mother that she’d come to his station for help.
* * *
April 19,1830
Duke of Chelmsford’s carriage
Streets near Piccadilly
Perseus Whitcombe, Duke of Chelmsford, had observed his newly found niece, Olivia, mope about the house so often in the last few days that he’d decided to take things into his own hands.
Even as he’d made the decision, he knew Her Grace would give him a tongue-lashing for interfering in the poor girl’s affairs.And a good tongue-lashing from Eleanor sometimes turned out to be so enjoyable that, frankly, he could not envision a down side.
And so here he was having his driver slowly course along the streets of Will Beckford’s beat whilst also sending two of his strongest footmen running along side streets to see if they could get a glimpse of the missing Peeler.After showing up almost daily for weeks, the man had virtually disappeared for the last week and half leading up to the imminent coming-out ball.Olivia was never going to find a husband with a long face and trembling frown.
After several hours of twists and turns, Percy knocked on the roof of his cavernous carriage.When his coachman pulled up the perfectly matched grays, Percy stuck his head out the window and said, “Let’s go out on Piccadilly for a few streets.”
“Goin’ to be slow work this time of day, Yer Grace.”
“What else do I have to do today?”Percy asked, and motioned the man onward before sitting back inside against the soft squabs.He’d nearly drifted off to sleep when he heard one of his running footmen shout, “There he is—.”
7
APRIL 19, 1830
DUKE OF CHELMSFORD’S CARRIAGE
* * *
Streets in vicinity of Piccadilly
Percy stared across the space in the center of the ducal carriage toward the stubborn young man seated facing him.Will’s chin jutted forward, his hands were clenched into fists, and the ridiculous Peelers’ oversize stovepipe perched on the seat next to him.Will’s earlier explanation for Sir Robert Peel’s design of the hat was so that they could stand on them to look over fences.Frankly, that made the whole idea even more ludicrous.
“Mr.Beckford, I hate say this, but I believe I see in you the man I used to be prior to my marriage.”
Will gulped, obviously stunned, without a reply.
A chasm of silence yawned between them until the young man finally spoke.“I must apologize, Your Grace.I must have confused you with my sudden change of, erm, habit.”
“Yes.I rather miss our morning raids on Cook’s chocolate biscuits.”
“I’m afraid I’d become the source of much frustration on Miss Jones’s part.”
“I didn’t see that at all,” Percy interjected.
“Please let me finish.”He unbuttoned the top button on the heavy, long wool coat that was part of his uniform.
Percy took a languid look out the coach window.“It is unseasonably warm today, isn’t it?”