Lady Susan Plays the Game (39 page)

His meaning was unpleasant but she must not take offense. After a silence he went on. ‘Your ladyship is aware of her power, I think.'

She looked at him keenly. He was older than she'd first thought. She'd been fooled by the dark hair that should have been greying; it made the face below more pallid.

‘I appreciate your admiration, Mr King, and your past services. May I now know the purpose of your generosity and the method proposed of repayment?'

There was a silence in the room. It was becoming oppressive.

Suddenly Jacob King broke it. His tone had changed. ‘It is of your husband that we speak of course.' He looked archly at her. ‘Your charms are indeed very great, madam. It is gracious of you to favour me with a visit so that I can observe them for myself after so many
years. I can see that a man might well have the kind of desire he could not easily curb, the kind he was prepared to pay lavishly to fulfil.'

It was best not to reply to this impertinence. She controlled her expression and waited.

‘I might indeed have found myself captive had I been allowed into the presence long ago' – here he bowed his head slightly towards her – ‘but I am now as you see a man past the fires of youth.'

Lady Susan felt her temper rising but she spoke calmly, ‘Are you or are you not the source of the money I have been receiving, sir?'

He inclined his head. ‘Indeed I am, madam.' He paused and forced her to meet his eyes; they were chilly.

‘Then please explain—' She stopped. She was playing into his hands. Silence stretched out as before; it rang in her ears.

After a time, he resumed. ‘It is indeed my money but it is secured by another. I have given credit, as is my usual business. I am, you might say, the conduit.'

‘You mean you are only a moneylender.'

‘Your ladyship has not in the past been so contemptuous of the profession. “Only” is perhaps an inappropriate expression.'

He had been toying with her from the start. What she had thought just for a moment might be desire was hatred. It startled her. How had she inspired it? She'd asked for money and he'd provided it for interest. Now, at someone else's behest, he and Burnett had been spinning a web round her. Why?

Posed so clearly the question cheered her. There was a challenge here and she could always rise to a challenge.

‘I wish to know who is the source of the money.'

‘Who is your benefactor, you mean?'

‘Use whatever term you will. I must know.'

Another silence followed. She hardly dared breathe but her face retained its serene expression.

At last he said, ‘Your benefactor, madam, is known to you.'

‘His name, Mr King. His name, if you please.'

‘Lady Susan, you must understand that he wishes when the time comes to declare himself to you directly, and it would be improper for me to deprive him of that pleasure.' He saw the impatient look pass over her face. ‘I will, however, be delighted to give you his London address so that the encounter may take place. My patron will expect you.'

‘Mr King, this gothic secrecy is childish. But if grown men wish to play as boys I have no option but to play along with them.'

‘That is wise, madam,' he replied, ‘but you have yourself played many games. You cannot repine when others wish to play new ones.'

‘You enjoy this talking in riddles I see,' said Lady Susan. ‘But I have amused you long enough. Be so good as to give me the address so that I can conclude the farce.'

He went over to a writing desk, wrote something on a paper, folded it and handed it to her.

‘You will know how repayment is to be made.' He spoke levelly but she detected an icy, bitter edge.

‘What do you mean, sir?'

‘I imagine your ladyship might have a better idea than I about that. Your husband, on whom I had occasion to call on more than once, was a gentleman I greatly admired. He was, I believe, generous and made no demands for repayment. But the debts you incurred far exceeded his income. Surely a woman of your intelligence was aware of that. No? Well. I applied to Mr Vernon and he paid. Paid, poor gentleman, until he could pay no more.' Lady Susan had moved towards the door. ‘I was intrigued, I admit it,' pursued Jacob King. ‘I have wanted to know what charms a lady could have that would lead a man to bankrupt himself. I could not believe the woman existed. I see now that she does.'

Her look held as much contempt as she could muster. She could expect nothing more from this man. He was simply railing. ‘My husband was indeed a gentleman,' she said coldly.

Mr King replied with unexpected emotion. ‘He was so, madam, and his last days were much harried by my necessary demands. The anxiety I fear hastened his quite untimely end.'

‘I appreciate your opinion, Mr King. It remains for me simply to wish you good day.'

He rang for the servant to usher her out. She left the house without looking behind her.

The journey back to London went a slightly different route, through Ipswich and Chelmsford, through Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex, through all those towns and villages she knew well and had intended never to see again. It was tedious and seemed interminable. The necessary stops were brief, for she intended simply to get to London as soon as possible.

She dozed fitfully in the carriage, while Barton's head flopped onto her chest, mouth open, indicating a more profound sleep. Normally Lady Susan would have woken her maid and told her to stop making such a disgusting spectacle of herself, but now she was content to have her companion unconscious. She looked out of the window in the chill spring light.

They rolled into London late on a grey evening. The signs of spring that had enlivened the countryside could do nothing for the town but Lady Susan was glad to be back. Now that action was again in prospect she refused to dwell on past unpleasantness. She would return to Upper Seymour Street, rest and then decide on her next move.

There were two possibilities. She could make enquiries about the owners or lodgers in Hans Place, the address she had been given. Jeffrey could scout around and find out names from neighbours or tradesmen – she would of course have to tell him exactly what to say. Then she could talk the matter over with Alicia Johnson and, with her help, discover more about the person she was dealing with. Or, she could keep her own counsel and go to this unfashionable place alone, as soon as she had changed her linen and clothes.

She chose the latter course. It was better now to rely only on herself.

By the time the coach reached her lodgings it was too late to go out again. She was even too tired to look through the invitation cards that had been delivered in her absence. For once she was not in the mood.

On the following morning she set out alone. Even Barton was left behind. There were times when Lady Susan let her woman take liberties and surmise her business but not now. She knew enough never to trust entirely to the loyalty of servants: they owed more to each other than to their masters.

She dressed in her new black taffeta robe but covered it with a more nondescript cloak. It was best to have variable layers since she had no idea to whom she was going. She had paid off the post-chaise and now took a hackney carriage to Hans Place. She would be as anonymous as possible.

She had rarely been in this part of London and the streets were unfamiliar. It was not an area she and her acquaintances visited. Yet some houses were smarter than she'd anticipated, with painted half fronts, many brass fittings and wide entrance steps and doors. One might be prosperous and private here but not, perhaps, in the best society.

When the door was opened by a butler powdered and adorned, she knew she was in the house of someone with pretensions to gentility – and possession of wealth. Mr King and lawyer Burnett floated into her mind: she was anticipating a sort of composite, a neat professional man with a little of the unctuousness and arrogance of those in service. Yet Jacob King said she knew him. Could it be one of the Reeves after all, the one she had not met – there must be at least two, given the name? But why? And was the money in the end hers? If not, whose?

She was shown into a library, far fuller than that in Churchill or Langford – or indeed than poor Frederick had been able to bring with him to Someyton. Her eyes ranged over the wine-red morocco bindings, which resembled those in which generations of Vernons had chosen to clothe their volumes at Vernon Castle. With the red books and dark blue upholstery on black lacquered wood, the Aubusson carpet and Hepplewhite-style chairs, the room had a rich, sombre feel. It was enhanced by two massive silver candlesticks by the marble fireplace. Automatically she looked through the window over the rear ornamental garden as if checking that the world outside continued.

So her back was turned when the owner of the house entered the room. ‘Good morning, Lady Susan,' said a familiar voice.

She turned quickly round. ‘You,' she exclaimed before creasing her face into a smile.

‘Good morning to you, Sir Philip. What a charming house you have.' Her mind whirled as she spoke but her tongue and face functioned as usual.

The man before her was prepared for her arrival; presumably he'd had a message by express post from Mr King in Norwich. He was dressed well and discreetly, with nothing ostentatious – quite unlike his presence when she'd first seen him as the proposed purchaser of Vernon Castle. Then she had thought him rather vulgar in what she assumed his new wealth. He had been more restrained at the funeral.

‘Lady Susan, it is a pleasure to see you. I am most honoured. Please do be seated.' He motioned her to an armchair. She inclined her head and sat down.

‘Sir Philip, I don't pretend to know what you are doing or what you expect of me. I had no idea you had a house in town.'

‘You are direct, madam, but of course in a most gracious way.' He bowed slightly.

‘Please, Sir Philip, I have spent days coursing the country to no purpose. Let us not toy with each other like this. Tell me what you are about.'

‘Delightful as it is to think of toying further with your ladyship,' he began, then changed his tone. ‘I am merely your sincere well-wisher.'

The phrase struck her like a whip across her cheek. She understood. This was the man who had been with her daughter in the Haymarket tavern that shameful night.

He was watching her closely. She settled her face. She'd no intention of painting her thoughts on her body like Frederica. ‘If you are, sir, you will now tell me what you are doing.'

Her gaze was unswerving. Despite his clothes he was a big ugly man, with only the thinnest veneer of gentility. She had judged him correctly when she first saw him so many years before.

‘You are aware I think of my admiration. It has long been apparent to you?'

‘I have not been aware, Sir Philip. I have had no awareness of you at all. We met over the purchase of my husband's estate and you were kind enough to attend his funeral. That is the extent.'

He seemed surprised. ‘Of course, of course, the funeral – yes indeed. I came to pay my respects. I knew your husband. It was so sad he died suddenly.' He looked at her intently with an expression she couldn't fathom.

‘What are you implying? He had been ailing for some time.'

‘I imply nothing Lady Susan, but perhaps for both of us he was – how shall I say it? – though a good man, a little in the way?'

‘This is intolerable,' said Lady Susan rising suddenly. ‘I cannot imagine what you are hinting.'

‘I am hinting nothing, my lady,' he said. ‘I simply state the truth. I liked your husband and he is gone. But come, do sit down, this is not what we are here for. Let us have some refreshment. As you say, you have recently had a long journey and must still be tired.'

Before she answered he had rung for the servants. Two footmen brought in hot chocolate and little sugared cakes while a third fetched a small folding mahogany table from beside the wall, opened it and placed it between them. While the servants were fiddling with the table, then the bowls and plates, Lady Susan resumed her seat and waited in silence. When a footman offered her a bowl of chocolate she accepted it.

Once the servants had left, Sir Philip smiled over at her. ‘I am sorry if I have been gauche or indelicate. I have so often imagined this meeting. Inevitably, after much anticipation, one fails the moment.'

She did not return his smile. There were strange unpleasant echoes between these two men, Jacob King and Sir Philip Valmain. She would think of it later. ‘I understand that you have advanced me money without my requesting it.'

He inclined his head, sipped his bowl, then said, ‘I hope it has been acceptable. A lady has many needs in a town such as this. I've been happy to oblige.'

‘You will please tell me the amount of the debt.'

‘It's unimportant.' He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. ‘I don't see it as a debt but as something between a loan and a gift, something I advanced in payment for the pleasure you've given me and I hope will give me again. It cannot surprise you entirely. You may remember I paid handsomely for your estate.'

‘You did and it gave you a handsome position in the world. It is a noble property.'

‘You think I needed such signs of – shall we say – gentlemanly rank? You despise me as of low birth perhaps?'

She did not respond.

He went on. ‘It is a fine place undoubtedly, a little gloomy in the winter and it is now in need of some feminine refurbishing.'

‘Are you proposing that I should grace it?'

She must make her tone lighter, so she smiled to soften her words

‘No, Lady Susan, I already have you there.'

She was jolted but said nothing.

‘I mean, of course, that I have your portrait.'

‘Ah yes. You did not wish to display your own family. Your money is I believe from the manufactories. Hemp or is it coal?'