The Devil's Company (44 page)

“In matters of trade, a season or two is an eternity,” Ellershaw said. “I disdain to look farther ahead than that. Indeed, I live from one meeting of the Court of Proprietors to the next, and if the world be damned in six months, I care nothing for it.”

“That position,” he said, “is an absurdity—much like your suits.”

“Think what you like, sir. You may choose to defy the Company if you wish. For all I know, that is the only thing that will continue to get you elected to your seat. But we shall see who survives longer, the East India Company or your desiccated wool. Oh, I daresay. Is that young man coming in not the duke of Norwich’s heir? And, I do believe those cheerful friends he’s with are the very toast of the world of fashion.”

Thurmond turned to look, and his jaw fell open with surprise and even something like horror. Here came Ellershaw’s Holy Trinity, his fashionable cadre—all handsome and self-satisfied young men—with an equal number of young ladies about them. Each one wore a suit made out of blue India cotton. The ladies, too, wore gowns of blue India cotton, so that they moved together in a great azure swirl. The entire assembly hall glanced over to them and then back to us, and I understood at once that though we were regarded as objects of derision when we first entered, we now became objects of envy.

Ellershaw nodded with satisfaction. “Every man in this room is now thinking of how he can best reach his tailor to have one of these suits made up.”

Thurmond pushed himself away from the table. “It is but a temporary victory,” he said.

Ellershaw smiled. “My dear sir, I am a man of business, and I have spent my entire life with the knowledge that there is no other kind.”

THE REST OF THE EVENING, Ellershaw remained in high spirits, claiming that this was the very thing, that the Court meeting would present no obstacles now. I thought it rather optimistic, but it was nevertheless easy to see why he felt such enthusiasm. We were the very height of attention, with no shortage of pretty young women and strapping young sparks taking their turn to come over and share some insipid thought. As Mr. Ellershaw basked in his success, it was no difficult thing for me to excuse myself, alluding only to a great fatigue.

I immediately went home to change into something plainer and less conspicuous. Then I once more made my way outside and to a hackney—this time to near Bloomsbury Square, where Elias made his home.

Since Cobb had made Elias’s fate dependent on my behavior, I had not risked a visit, but as Elias was now working for Ellershaw as well, I believed a single trip of this nature was an acceptable risk. And I wished, to whatever extent I could, to resolve all remaining questions this night.

I was met at the door by his very kind and attentive landlady Mrs. Henry, who welcomed me inside and offered me a seat and a glass of wine. My hostess was a very attractive woman of perhaps forty years or more, and I knew that Elias maintained a special, if not amorous, friendship with her. The two of us rarely shared an adventure, at least an adventure of the nonribald variety, that he did not repeat to her. I feared then that she would hold some sort of grudge against me for having so troubled Elias with my difficulties, but if there was anger in her heart, she showed none of it.

“Your offer is very kind, madam,” I said with a bow, “but I fear I haven’t the time for pleasantries. There are matters to which Mr. Gordon and I must attend, and if you would be so good as to fetch him, I would be most indebted.”

“I am not entirely certain that fetching him is convenient,” she told me.

“Oh, I should be very happy to go abovestairs myself, Mrs. Henry. You hardly need trouble yourself, if you have some other matter—”

I stopped because I observed that Mrs. Henry’s ears had turned the color of ripe strawberries. When she saw that I saw, she coughed delicately into her hand. “Perhaps you would care to share a glass of wine,” she tried again.

I attempted a gentle smile, one that would not suggest I was immune to the scandalous nature of Elias’s conduct but rather that his nonsense surprised me no longer. “Madam,” I said, “though it may not be comfortable for you to disturb him, I can assure you he will take no umbrage if I fetch him myself.”

“I am not entirely sure he will take it kindly,” Mrs. Henry said softly.

“Oh, you may depend upon his taking it most unkindly, but it must be done for all that.” I bowed once more and ascended to Elias’s rooms.

Once I was at the top of the stairs, I pressed my ear against the door—not to satisfy any prurient curiosity, you must understand, but because if I were to interrupt I should hate to do so at the wrong moment. I heard nothing that would tell me one way or the other if this was a good time. So I knocked on the door, firmly enough so that my friend would know this was an urgent matter, but not so firmly that he would throw on a pair of breeches and a shirt and climb out his window—a maneuver he had deployed on at least two occasions to my knowledge when attempting to elude some pesky creditors.

For a moment nothing, and then shuffling noises and a creaking of hinges. The door opened just a crack, and one of Elias’s wary brown eyes peered out from the gloom of the chamber. “What is it?” he asked me.

“What is it?” I repeated in disbelief.
“What it is
is that we have much to do. You know I hate to interrupt your dalliance, but the sooner we put all this business behind us, the better off we shall all be.”

“Oh, no doubt, no doubt at all,” he said. “But tomorrow is much the better day for me.”

I let out a snort. “Really, Elias, I understand your need to pursue your pleasure, but you must understand that now is the time to set those needs aside. We must act tonight. Cobb will be laying new demands on me tomorrow, you may depend on it, and I’ve already told him far more than I would wish. We must see what we can learn of Absalom Pepper and his connection to this Teaser fellow—”

“Hush!” It came out as a bark. “You need not speak of it here. I know all their names. Very well, Weaver, if it is of such urgency to you, go wait at the Rusted Chain just around the corner. I’ll be there in one half of an hour.”

I snorted once more. Elias’s half hours, when he was breaking free of an amour, had been known to stretch for two hours or more. It was not that he was irresponsible, of course, merely that he was inclined to be forgetful.

Elias and I had been friends for some years, and I knew his ways well. He would not bring a whore back to his room, for fear of offending Mrs. Henry (who, over time, had become increasingly less shocked by Elias’s behavior), but neither would he bring a woman of any stature—who would find his rooms disagreeable and the openness of their amour compromising. So, in his bed right now would be some actress or tavern girl or tradesman’s daughter, a woman of enough standing that Elias could walk with her down the street without attracting hoots, but not so much that she would refuse to walk with him at all.

Knowing all this as I did, I therefore took a bold if not entirely unprecedented step. I shoved myself against the door, knocking Elias backward. Not hard, mind you, but merely with the intention of jarring him out of his refusal.

Elias was, to my surprise, fully dressed, not even having removed his waistcoat. I must have shoved harder against the door than I’d intended, because he stumbled backward and fell on his arse.

“Have you lost your senses?” he cried out. “You must get out of here at once!”

“Sorry to shove you so hard,” I said, hardly able to contain my grin. This would take more than the usual pot of ale and chophouse meal to mollify, I saw, but there was nothing for it. Undaunted, I turned toward the bedroom, but circumstances required I take no steps in that direction. The lady resided not therein but rather in one of his comfortable sitting chairs, her delicate fingers around the stem of a goblet.

Her fingers trembled ever so slightly, as did her lips. I saw, even in the diminished light, that she struggled to appear unaffected by the scene, but something had overcome her, though I knew not if it were shame, fear, or anger.

“I would offer you a seat,” she said, “but it is not my place to play the hostess.”

I could neither move nor speak but only gape like an idiot, for sitting upon that chair was Celia Glade.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

FROZE IN MY TRACKS.

Celia Glade looked up at me with her beautiful eyes and smiled with such evident sadness that my heart doubled its pace. “You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Weaver,” she said.

I spun around and walked as quickly as I could to the door. To Elias, who was just now rising from his unflattering position, I merely said that I would await him downstairs.

This affair ended so badly for so many that I should spare no sympathy for those who were only moderately inconvenienced, but I have never quite forgiven myself for my rude treatment of Mrs. Henry, as I sat downstairs gloomily, clutching my goblet of wine so hard I feared it would crack—and all while she made awkward efforts to converse with me.

I did not see Celia leave the house—I presume Elias led her out the back way—but a quarter of an hour after our encounter, he came downstairs to signal his readiness to depart. We went to the Rusted Chain and ordered pots. After that we sat in silence for some time.

“I’m very sorry if this is awkward for you, Weaver,” he began, “but you never in any way indicated that you should prefer—”

I slammed my hand down upon the table hard enough that nearly every patron in the place now looked over. It mattered little to me. My only goal was to get Elias to cease his blather before I felt I had no choice but to pummel him.

“You knew full well how I felt,” I said. “This is outrageous.”

“How so?” he asked. “She was yours if you wanted her. You chose not to take her.”

“By the devil, Elias, I can’t believe you would behave so foolishly. Do you honestly think she pursued you because of your charm?”

“There’s no need to insult me, you know.”

“No doubt.” Angry as I was, I would not end the friendship over this. “But whatever the allure of your charms, you must know that she wanted to learn only what you knew, nothing more.”

“Of course. And I wanted what she had. It was something of a battle, I suppose, to see who would give up their goods and who would keep them. As it happened, she learned nothing from me and I received nothing from her.”

“And did you have your eye upon her every minute she was in your rooms?”

“Not every minute. A man doesn’t wish to use the pot before a lady.”

“And do you still have your notes on our current inquiry upon your desk?”

“My hand is very difficult to read for those not acquainted to it,” he said quickly, but I could hear his voice wavering. He had his doubts.

I did not have doubts. “While I was at your door, I mentioned the names Absalom Pepper and Teaser.”

“Then perhaps you should have been more careful.”

I said nothing, because he was, in that regard, quite right. I stared ahead while Elias intermittently bit his lip and sipped at his ale.

“You know,” he said, “I never meant to injure you. Perhaps you should have made your feelings for her clearer to me. Perhaps I should have given your feelings more consideration, but I was too busy trying to bed a beautiful willing woman. It’s a poor excuse, perhaps, but there it is. And it is entirely possible she had no intention of letting me bed her. We shall never know, of course; she merely accepted the invitation back to my rooms. There had been no intimacy—”

“Enough,” I barked. “It’s done. She knows too much and we have too little time as it is. That means we must make haste.”

“Haste in what?”

“It is time to find Mr. Teaser. He was to fund Pepper’s project, so he will know what the project is. And that is the key to this whole affair. I can only hope we find him before she does.”