One Taste of Scandal (19 page)

“Soon enough you will refer to me as Lady Feathercote,” she said. He detected the hint of snarl in her voice and preferred it to nerves.

“What a name,” he said lightly, to disguise his hurt. “I much prefer Cross or even better, Magdalene Shield.”

The carriage rattled into the brick alley and bounced to a stop before she could speak. Judah unlatched the door and held it for her. She lifted her nose into the air and walked in the door in front of him, punishing him for his cheek.

“Off you go, cake wallah,” he said. Thumping came from the office staircase.

She turned to him, but before he could speak, Ewan Hales had appeared in front of them, after a mad dash that included leaping down stairs, if Judah was any judge. He had never seen the man excited.

“What is it, Mr. Hales?” Judah asked. Had influenza struck Redcake’s? Or anarchists?

Magdalene stepped around the secretary and disappeared down the steps.

“There’s a man here to see you, Captain, from the docks!”

Judah’s hands tingled in anticipation and relief. “Did he mention a ship?”

Hales nodded enthusiastically. “He did. Your ship!”

Judah grinned, suspecting he revealed every single one of his teeth. He dashed up the stairs, Hales’s pounding steps following him. “Fetch tea, Hales, and some cakes.”

The anteroom was empty, but in his office he saw a man standing in the pose of a sea officer, legs spread wide to steady himself against the roll of the sea, hands clasped behind his back to keep from bumping anything on a crowded ship. Judah recognized the imposingly tall form, the black-as-midnight hair, far too long for fashion.

“Captain Howard,” he exclaimed.

The man turned, and Judah was reminded anew by the mythical stature of the man. He must be nearly seven feet tall and dressed in the style of some seventy years ago, tight breeches and tall boots. His boots would cover the entire leg of most women.

Judah had to admit the old-fashioned style revealed the admirable physique of the man and hoped Hales had got him up to the office before the cakies spotted him. They’d find him a common sort once they spotted Howard.

“I would imagine, by your appearance, that the
Fleetfoot
has docked.”

“Our fortunes are made,” the captain agreed. “We had some trouble with pirates in the Arabian Sea, and then weather difficulties around the Cape, which slowed us down. Had to stop along the Ivory Coast for repairs twice.”

“Is your ship salvageable?”

“Yes. The benefit of your merchandise being so long at sea is your lordly partner made arrangements to sell the goods. He is already at the dock with a variety of middlemen. You should have your funds before the holidays.”

Judah felt like he did after battle, a combination of exhaustion and exhilaration, unsure if he should go to a church and fall to his knees, or make love to a woman until he collapsed on top of her. “That is good news.”

Captain Howard pulled a small pouch from his belt and tossed it to Judah. “Each partner receives one of these. You can sell them or have them set for your woman.”

Judah opened the pouch and let the gleaming blue stones fall into his palm. “Sapphires.”

“Enough for a parure.”

The stones matched Magdalene’s eyes. A pity. Maybe they matched Beth’s as well? No, she probably had all their mother’s jewels. His stones would best be saved for his future wife, but she seemed far off in the future. His heart wanted no one but Magdalene.

When Hales arrived with the tray, they sat and discussed the voyage in more detail.

An hour later, they shook hands, and Judah said, “Thank you, Captain. I am certain you have much to do.”

“One more partner to visit,” the giant agreed.

Judah promised to visit the docks for a tour that afternoon. Hales came in the moment Howard left, too excited to knock. He exclaimed over the stones. When Hales had left, Judah went down the stairs to put his pouch into the safe in Accounting.

Dash it all, he could bring Magdalene up and show her the stones. Would they sway her from her Feathercote? At least they would show her he was far from poor. He dropped the stones into his pocket and turned to go downstairs to the Fancy.

Would a token like these prove his love to her? He could compromise a little on lifestyle, now that he had the funds. Go to Society parties sometimes, purchase a fine home. He could afford to dress her properly, far more finely than she dressed now. His gamble had paid off, or rather, his investment. He couldn’t wait to write to Hatbrook.

When he reached the main floor, he was about to cross the hall to the steps to the basement, when he heard arguing voices just outside the employee door into the bakery. He needed to intervene immediately. The voices were loud enough that customers might be able to hear.

A woman started crying. Concerned, he sped up. He recognized Betsy Popham, wiping her eyes on her apron. In front of her was her father. Was this a family dispute?

“You knew she wasn’t to work the counter,” Ralph Popham was saying. “Were you trying to force her out?”

“I didn’t think, honest!”

“Now you’ve ruined a nice young lady’s reputation, and lost Captain Shield a good employee to boot, during a busy season. He ought to sack you!”

“Now, now,” Judah said. “What is all this fuss?”

“Captain,” Popham said, clearly relieved to see him.

Betsy gave a loud theatrical cry and flung herself into Judah’s arms. Horrified, he pushed her back at arm’s length. “Get ahold of your nerves, Miss Popham. This is no place for the vapors.”

She sniffled, suddenly much quieter. Judah didn’t want to try to make sense of her, so he looked to Popham for information.

“Please explain yourself,” Judah said.

“Miss Cross has left her employment,” Popham said, running his hands through his thinning hair. “It is all my daughter’s fault, I am afraid. I came in late this morning because I was visiting with Sir Bartley about some factory supply issues for the bakery. We were shorthanded.”

“What does this have to do with Miss Cross?” he demanded.

“Betsy insisted the young lady come up here to fill in. They both worked at the counter for an hour. I was gone, and two of the girls have the influenza.”

He barely heard the dreaded word. “Then what happened?”

“Lady somebody-or-other recognized Miss Cross and made quite a to-do. She couldn’t decide which was more scandalous, Miss Cross working while she was in mourning for her sister-in-law, or her working when she was on the Society marriage mart. Said she’d have her struck from every guest list she had access to.”

“Bloody hell,” Judah said. This was Magdalene’s worst nightmare come to life.

“Miss Cross was very polite,” Popham assured him. “I came in just as the confrontation was ending. She told her ladyship she was leaving London in a few days to be married, then when the woman had gone, Miss Cross took off her apron and walked out the back door, without even going downstairs for her coat or reticule.”

“In November? It is near freezing out.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Betsy sniffed loudly, but Judah had no time for her. “Make do in the bakery, Mr. Popham. Betsy, get back downstairs. You will have to accomplish twice as much in the time you have or I’ll have your position for this.”

“I need another set of hands,” she whined.

“With this influenza, there are none available,” said Popham.

“Could you help?” Betsy gushed. “You helped Magdalene.”

Judah gave her his deadliest stare, one he usually reserved for Pathans and cheating merchants. “I will help by asking Mr. Melville to hire a replacement. But now, I’m going to spend my day trying to find a young woman wandering the streets without a coat or money. Now, go get me her things and look sharp.”

Betsy fled. Popham shook his head. Before he could open his mouth again, Judah pointed him back to his station, then he went upstairs for his coat.

It took him several minutes to reconnect with Betsy and get Magdalene’s possessions, then he went out the front door for a hansom, hoping that by retracing her usual path home, he could overtake her. But that fifteen minutes had given her wings. When he reached her home, Hetty opened the door.

“Is Miss Cross here?” he asked.

“Miss Cross isn’t in,” Hetty said in a formal tone.

“In to me, you mean? But she is safely indoors?”

Hetty frowned. “You picked her up just this morning, Captain, to go to work. Did you lose her?”

“I’m afraid so,” Judah said grimly. “Any idea where she might have gone without a coat?”

The maid shivered. “In this weather? I don’t rightly know. Into a shop, maybe.”

Judah’s muffler suddenly felt far too tight. He handed Hetty Magdalene’s coat, bonnet, and reticule. “Do you think she might have gone to her uncle’s?”

“We’re much closer to Redcake’s than the earl’s house.”

“A good point.”

“Do you want to come in for a cup of tea? I’m sure Mr. George would receive you.”

“No, I need to find his sister. Please tell him to look for her as well, if he is able.” Judah went back down the step and asked the driver to take him to Adelaide Street, with the idea of enlisting Eddy’s help.

When he entered his house, all was silent in the front rooms. He went into the kitchen to see if Penny knew where Eddy was, and he found the lad sitting at the table with Magdalene.

“You came here?” Judah said, his hands shaking with relief. “I went to your house but no one had seen you.”

“I wanted to say good-bye to Eddy,” she said, looking very self-possessed for a woman who’d just left her employment and been embarrassed to the point of losing her social position.

“What about me?” Judah asked.

“I was going to write you a note.”

“You left your possessions in the Fancy,” he said, feeling a fool.

She ignored his remark. “Penny was kind enough to make me tea and oatcakes.”

Not trusting the evidence of his eyes, he went to her and touched her hand. “You are icy.”

“I have not been here long. Perhaps twenty minutes.”

“She was a fair wreck when she come in,” Eddy said.

“I told Lawrence to go back to his room for fear she’d pick up his influenza,” Penny interjected.

“I thought he was better.” Judah frowned, suddenly remembering the illness had struck at Redcake’s as well.

“He still has a cough,” Penny said, her hand to her breast. “Poor man.”

Judah scented the horror of a budding interservant romance, but chose to ignore it for now. “And a hot brick? Does she have one at her feet?”

“I am very close to the fire, and there is bread in the oven, and cakes on the stove,” Magdalene said. “I’m much warmer already. I shall go in a minute.”

“No,” Judah said. “No, you will not. I will send a note back to your brother’s house. I have a cab waiting.”

“I can go instead of a note,” she said calmly. “I need to pack.”

“Do not,” Judah said. “Please. The morning has been topsy-turvy.”

She smiled kindly. “It is better this way. If I stay, there will be nothing but gossip, and I shall have to deal with Betsy Popham. I might very well slap her if I have to see her again. She literally pushed me in front of the countess, when I could have remained at the far end of the counter, quite usefully restocking the case.”

“What was a countess doing buying her own pastries?” Judah asked, knowing he’d lost any power over her.

“It is the fashion now, à la Lady Hatbrook, for aristocratic ladies not so wealthy as to have their own pastry chef. It is like picking out your own fabric for your modiste.”

“That is good for Redcake’s, I suppose.”

“But not for me,” Magdalene said, the first tart tone creeping into her voice. “Thank you for holding the carriage.”

She stood and offered Judah her hand. He stared into her eyes. “Please do not go to Yorkshire. I will fire Betsy, even if it means losing her father too.”

“It is best for me, Captain. Please wish me happy.”

Then, before Judah could formulate any other remark, she was gone. He hadn’t even shown her the sapphires. As he stared at the table where her teacup still steamed, he knew he’d never be able to look at the stones without thinking of her eyes. They might as well be at the bottom of the Indian Ocean for all the good they would do him.

O
n Wednesday, after an exchange of telegrams, Magdalene left for King’s Cross Station. The roads were icy. She huddled in her secondhand coat, trying to stay warm in the hired cab while slipping back and forth on the seat. She had paid for her ticket with the remainder of her Redcake’s pay. Captain Shield had delivered it to her house the previous night and, while she hadn’t refused to see him, she had declined to converse, telling him she had much to do and there was nothing left to be said. He had drawn himself up into a military line and left without any further attempt to woo her, the picture of a wounded but proud suitor. George had scarcely seemed to comprehend what was afoot, and Manfred had been busy placating their maid, who had threatened to leave again. It had not been much of a leave-taking.

As the train sped north toward Yorkshire, Magdalene settled back and watched the scenery change from urban to rural and back again while the hours passed. Her sense of geography was uncertain. She knew there were Yorkshire Dales as well as Yorkshire Moors, but would it be dark before she arrived that far north?

As she ate her cooling potatoes, she forced herself to think of the future, not the past. Sir Octavian, not Captain Shield. A life in the spa town of Harrogate, rather than the one she’d imagined for herself as a girl, in London Society, or the life she could have taken for herself and chose not to, that of a prosperous tradesman’s wife with good family connections. She imagined motherhood versus stepmotherhood and decided it would be much the same if she loved the child. After all, had not her nephews been as dear to her as any child of her own might have been? She was not yet twenty-two, and would fill Sir Octavian’s nursery with children of her own. They might even visit London sometimes.

What little sun the cloudy sky allowed sank, and night overtook the landscape. While she had never fallen asleep during the long day’s journey, she was yawning by the time she disembarked, and was caught with mouth open by none other than her dear friend Constance, there to greet her on the platform.

“I cannot believe you are here!” Constance cried as they ran to each other’s arms.

Magdalene pulled back, taking a look at Constance’s silvery white hair, her coat that was of finer quality than her own mourning attire. “You look well. Such a young lady. It has been a good three years since I have set eyes on you.”

“It has been an age,” Constance agreed. She linked her arm with Magdalene’s and took her to Lady Varney’s carriage, then called to the driver to fetch Magdalene’s trunk. “So nice of Lady Varney to send her carriage. You must be exhausted.”

“Yes, but exhilarated too. I am starting a new life.”

Constance plopped into the plush green seat next to her. “It is exciting.”

“Do you know why I am to come to Lady Varney’s instead of my cousin’s home?”

Constance patted her hand. “The answer could not be simpler. Lady Varney is Sir Octavian’s great-aunt. I believe she is not related to you, except by marriage.”

Magdalene rubbed her gritty eyes, not sure this made sense. “Sir Octavian wanted me to meet his great-aunt?”

“He has put his marriage in her hands.”

Magdalene didn’t like the sound of that. “So Lady Varney is to determine if I am worthy of the baronet?”

“Yes. I have assured her you are the best of souls, so do not concern yourself.”

“Does her side of the family marry relations like mine does?” Magdalene wondered. “It is not arranged marriage exactly. We have usually met our spouses at some point during the years.”

Constance squeezed. “Sir Octavian has a son, you understand, and he wants to make sure you would be a fit mother.”

She was stung. “Does he not know I’ve had my nephews to care for?”

“Yes, of course, dear, but who is there to speak on your behalf, with your dear Nancy dead? However, you need not worry. Earl Gerrick is for the match and Lady Varney sets great store in earls.”

“And who is she, I wonder?”

“Her husband was knighted some twenty years ago. I believe he was an earl’s great-grandson.”

“I see. My birth should be good enough for her.”

“Oh, certainly.” Constance fell back a little as the carriage began to move.

Magdalene pressed her feet hard into the floor to keep herself upright. “I wonder that you did not try to marry Sir Octavian yourself.”

“I had hoped to return to London someday,” Constance admitted. “I am not independent here and I do not wish to be whispered about.”

Magdalene put her head on her friend’s shoulder. “I hope we both get all the things we wish. We certainly have had enough trials to deserve them.” The thought of Captain Shield flashed through her mind, but she forced it out again.

“Now, I may never want to return. Not if you are here.” Constance found her hand and patted it.

“I suppose it is a happy coincidence that you are living with the baronet’s great-aunt. We will see each other often.”

They chatted happily until the carriage came to a stop in front of a four-story multicolored brick mansion near the center of town.

“Lady Varney likes to take the waters, so she had to live closer to town. Before her husband’s death they lived on a country estate a few miles from here.”

“It appears to be a very pleasant establishment.” Magdalene liked the look of the neatly trimmed hedges. Snow dusted the patch of grass, but the path was dry.

“Yes. It is near all of the amusements. Lady Varney does not consider herself well enough to go out every day, but in excellent weather we will go to the shops in Montpellier Parade. There is a wonderful toffee shop across the street from a very fashionable hotel. London Society does visit here.”

Magdalene hoped the countess who had seen her at Redcake’s never made the trip north.

A footman opened the carriage door and helped them both down. Magdalene followed her friend into the house, whispering a fervent prayer that she had done the right thing in coming here.

 

With Magdalene gone, Judah threw himself into the improvement of Eddy during each moment he had free from his work. He had instructed Lawrence not to let the boy out of his sight, and had asked Hatbrook’s butler to find him a live-in tutor as swiftly as possible.

Meanwhile, he was busy with the disposition of the cargo from his ship, negotiating with Captain Howard and the other partners for the purchase prices. By the time the tutor arrived, a couple of weeks after Eddy had taken ownership of his second bedroom, the cargo had all been sold. They had benefited from the great popularity of fancy sapphires. The cache of stones purchased from a group of native hunters, along with the other cargo the partners had accumulated over a couple of years, had earned them millions of pounds, more than Judah had ever dreamed. He never needed to work another day of his life, if he invested carefully. But even this triumph dimmed before his failure with Magdalene. Had she become formally engaged? Could she even be married by now?

“Mr. Farmer is here, Captain,” Penny said, appearing at the door of his study.

Judah was about to give up the room to Mr. Farmer, for a bedroom and classroom. He patted the mantelpiece one last time and took his book to his room before going downstairs. Now, he would need a man of business, and a new, larger home. A butler, perhaps. If Magdalene ever came to London again, she would be shocked by his aristocratic lifestyle. He wondered what kind of funds her baronet had.

Eddy was already in the front hallway, staring daggers at Mr. Farmer’s thin face. “Who’s this, then?” he demanded. “Taking on boarders?”

“Eddy, this is your tutor, Mr. Farmer. He will be living with us, and taking on the responsibility of your education.”

“Education? Me? What do I want that for?” the boy cried.

“You must think of your future.” Judah smiled at the boy, who had cleaned up most presentably. Under Lawrence’s patient eye, even Eddy’s language had improved dramatically in the past weeks. Eddy was being educated without even realizing it.

“I’m just resting up ’ere. You know, for the winter, like. Once me arm is better, I’ll be back at my post.”

“You should think of a proper future, Mr. Jackson,” said Mr. Farmer, in an earnest tone. “I understand you like the newspapers excessively. Someday you could own a paper of your own, if you apply yourself.”

Eddy sneered. “I’m a hands-on sort, not a thinker.”

“You are a salesman, is what you are,” Judah said. “You aren’t selling me on being ignorant. I had a tutor myself growing up. I never went to school. Don’t you want a nice house someday, a good position, and a family? If you stay on the streets, even working respectably like you are, something bad is bound to happen.”

“It weren’t the streets that hurt me, guv.” Eddy glared.

Judah met his gaze with equal heat. “Well then, stay here and have a tutor.”

“Can’t I stay here and work? I could pay you. Just let me get back. I’ll get my old job back. I haven’t been gone long,” Eddy coaxed.

“You will like your studies,” Mr. Farmer said. “I understand you like to read.”

“In English,” Eddy snarled. “About politics and fights and gossip. Not Latin or Greek or all that other nonsense. I have no time for that.”

“You do not want a classical education,” Mr. Farmer said thoughtfully. “What about a natural education? We could study the sciences.”

“Wot sciences?” The boy’s face screwed up suspiciously, but Judah could see the tutor had captured his interest.

“Biology and botany,” said Mr. Farmer. “Those are particular interests of mine. History should interest you, because of the politics. And there are many wars.”

Eddy rubbed his nose. “I’m not interested in dead people.”

“Recent history then,” Mr. Farmer said. “Current events.”

“And no Latin?”

“There will have to be some Latin,” Judah said. “Because of the classifications. But you don’t have to learn it well enough to speak it.”

Eddy kicked the lowest stair. “I suppose I can give it a try.”

“Why don’t we show Mr. Farmer up to his room?” Judah suggested.

“ ’e isn’t sleeping in my room,” Eddy growled.

“No, the study has been transformed into Mr. Farmer’s realm,” Judah said.

“You love your study,” Eddy said, surprised.

“We shall use the parlor more often.” He pointed the boy upstairs and Lawrence came to help them with the tutor’s possessions. One thing was clear. Now that he could afford a larger home he needed one as soon as possible. He had already promised Penny he would bring someone in to help her with the heavy work, since he did not want to turn Eddy into a servant. He was more of a godson.

 

Another week passed, full of clashes between Eddy and the entire household. He was happy to go out with Mr. Farmer, looking on such flora and fauna they could find in London in November, purchasing books and visiting museums, but hated every moment he was at his desk in the tutor’s room. He disappeared once for half a day, but showed up for tea.

The first Monday in December was Beth’s day. She was to be presented to the Queen at St. James Palace. A many hour process, they would go by carriage to Westminster, then wait in the Gallery until being admitted to the drawing room where Queen Victoria awaited. Thankfully, being the daughter and sister of a marquess would speed up the events since the girls were presented in order of precedence.

Hatbrook had placed Judah in charge of Aunt Mary’s well-being, while he managed Beth and his wife, so Judah had no ability to escape the events.

Hours into the long day, they stood in the Picture Gallery, a long room full of large royal portraits and not nearly enough fireplaces. Beth fussed with the feathers in her hair and Alys kept a sharp eye on her sister-in-law’s train. Aunt Mary had been allowed to sit in one of the plush, built-in seats along the wall, quite close to the small fireplace.

Beth looked very different out of mourning, younger and a bit fragile, especially dressed in white. Her hair, untouched by sun at this time of year, seemed a darker shade than usual. He thought she had dared to put some sort of cosmetic on her lips, for they were stained red. She looked nothing like either of her parents as he remembered them, though she did look like Hatbrook.

He stared down the long room at all the other families with their daughters. His brother had made the rounds, talking to his counterparts, but Judah stayed close to his aunt and wondered. Was his father in the room? With that came a burst of shame. If he knew his parentage, would that have made a difference to Magdalene? If he was secure in his blue blood, would she have said yes?

A footman called for Lady Elizabeth Shield. Judah helped Aunt Mary to her feet, and walked with her to the door of the drawing room, where Queen Victoria and some of her family waited. No Prince of Wales, though. Through the door, he could see the great, glittering chandelier in the center of the room, but once again, only a small fireplace. Those who said the Queen liked a chilly room were not exaggerating.

He watched through one of the doorways as Beth made her first curtsy and was kissed on the forehead by the Queen, a privilege of her rank. A round of curtsies showed his sister’s grace to the other royalties, then with one final curtsy to the Queen, she backed slowly out of the room, her train draped gracefully over her arm.

Judah glanced over and saw Alys, her eyes shining, as Beth executed flawlessly.

“A footman had to help me with my train,” Alys confided. “I was not nearly so graceful in the spring when I was presented.”

Aunt Mary took his arm when she reached the door, leaning heavily upon it. Now, he saw she was showing her age.

“Are you leaving London soon?” Judah inquired.

“In a couple of days. Everyone is away from Town at this time of year, so there is no need to attend parties. Are you returning to Heathfield with us?”