The Man in the Green Coat (12 page)

Puzzling over the best way to present the invitation, he handed Lady Harrison’s butler his hat and gloves and asked Miss Darcy’s whereabouts.

“In Sir Cosmo’s study, sir. Miss is engaged. If you care to wait in the drawing room, sir, I’ll see if Miss can see you now.”

Mr Everett was suddenly aware of a loud, harsh voice, apparently raise I in anger, booming from the back of the house. He raised his eyebrows at the butler, who shrugged helplessly. His face grim, he hurried towards the sound.

The study door was open. Silhouetted against a window was a giant of a man. Tall, wide of girth, he bulged with knotted muscles beneath his grimy shirt of blue homespun. The panelled room seemed to vibrate from the roar of his fury.

Mr Everett stepped in and saw Gabrielle sitting stiffly at a desk, looking tiny in comparison with her adversary, as delicate and defenseless as his sister. However, her chin was raised in that familiar gesture and her eyes sparkled.

The colossus paused for breath.

"You are perfectly unreasonable, Mr Riddlecombe,” said Gabrielle quietly, her tone self-possessed. “I have offered you something on account, and the total will be paid on quarter day. I cannot do more.”

“Aye, I’ve ‘eard that tale afore, gorblimey if I hain’t. Quarter day comes and quarter day goes, and be damned if I sees a penny. You just fork out right here and now, young woman, or I'll ‘ave the bailiffs in the ‘ouse, quick as winking.”

Mr Everett moved forward and bowed to Gabrielle.

“My apologies for interrupting,” Miss Darcy. Perhaps I might be of assistance?” He turned and surveyed Mr Riddlecombe with disapproval. Streaks of black dust liberally adorned the huge man’s clothes and person. "You are a coal-heaver, fellow?”

“Merchant,” growled the other truculently, glaring down at him. “Riddlecombe and Sons of Wapping Wharf, and all I wants is what’s rightfully due!”

“Miss Darcy’s proposal seems eminently appropriate.”

His voice was calm, but something in his gaze made the coal-merchant shift uneasily and wipe his hands on his trousers. No change was visible in either hands or trousers.

“Werl, it’s like this, sir . . .”

“I suggest you accept what the lady has offered you. You have my word that the balance will be paid on quarter day.”

“Werl, if you says so, sir . ..” He extended a paw like a dinnerplate and Gabrielle gave him a banknote. He studied it suspiciously, folded it with care, and stuffed it into the nether regions of his shirt. “Quarter day, mind!” he said, touched his forelock sullenly in farewell, and tramped out.

“Thank you!” said Gabrielle with fervour, standing up and giving Mr Everett both her hands. “He had me quaking in my shoes until you intervened.”

“That is hard to believe. I thought you quite unperturbed.”

“Oh no, it was much more frightening than being chased by French soldiers, I assure you. He was so excessively large! But it never serves to show someone that you are afraid of them, does it? Though I daresay you have never been afraid of anyone in your life.”

“You are out there, Miss Darcy.” He led her to one of the leather-covered armchairs with which the study was furnished and took his seat in another. “I was used to be terrified of my paternal grandmother.”

“I never knew Papa’s mother,” she said wistfully. “And Grand’mère did not care for children.”

“You’d not have wanted to know the Dowager Baroness. I was taken to visit her sometimes, at the Dower House. She lived there for—oh, nearly twenty years, I suppose, and she grew quite eccentric towards the end. But the Dower House has been empty for many years now. My stepmother is planning to redecorate it, and she tells me she would greatly appreciate Lady Harrison’s advice. I gather her ladyship has superb taste. Should you mind giving up your cottage and spending the summer in the Dower House at Wrotham?”

“It is very kind of Lady Cecilia,” said Gabrielle slowly, “and how tactful of her to say she wants advice! Though it is true that Madame has exquisite taste. Just think how beautiful her drawing room is.”

“I never notice anything but you when I enter it.”

She smiled at him, slightly pink-cheeked. “Because Madame designs all my dresses, no doubt!” she said. “But tell me, is not the house rather large? It is useless if we exchange one expensive household for another.”

“Part of it is shut up,” he hastened to reassure her. “There is a couple living there, and a woman goes in regularly to clean. You would only need a personal maid. As for coal, surely you cannot use much during the summer!”

“As long as we do not buy it from Riddlecombe and Sons, I care not how much we use! Your offer is very tempting, sir, only I have a lowering feeling I ought not to accept.”

“Why?”

“It’s . . . I . . .” Gabrielle looked down at her hands as if her inspiration, then raised her eyes to his. “Was it Lady Cecilia’s idea to invite us?”

“Entirely. I asked her how to go about finding a cottage, nothing more.”

“How very kind she is! It sounds ideal. To tell the truth, I had some difficulty picturing Madame in a cottage, though she was no whit dismayed by the suggestion. But this will suit her much better.”

“Good. Lady Cecilia will write to her as soon as I tell her you accept. They go down to Kent on the fifth of July, I believe. I expect you will wish to travel with them.”

“You are staying in London all summer?”

“Unless Boney suddenly surrenders! But Wrotham is less than thirty miles from town. I daresay I shall visit my family from time to time. I go to Dover at least once a month, and it is not far out of my way. In fact, I must go next week, so I shall make sure that all is being readied for you.”

“Oh dear, it sounds as if we are going to cause a lot of extra work. I cannot like being under such an obligation to Lady Cecilia. Why, she barely knows us!”

“I can see that I must hurry off before you change your mind. Shall you be at Mrs Albright’s party tonight?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Gabrielle still looked anxious. “And you?”

“Most certainly! Till then, Miss Darcy.”

She rose and went with him to the door. When they reached it he turned and put one hand on her shoulder, while with the other he gently smoothed her wrinkled brow.

“Stop worrying!” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she said smiling, and curtsied.

As soon as he was gone, she went to find Lady Harrison. Her ladyship was in the small upstairs parlour, talking with Alain. They both fell silent as Gabrielle entered.

Then Alain said brightly, “I’m trying to persuade milady that we will survive without her hospitality, Miss Darcy. I was shocked to hear to what straits her generosity has brought her.”

“I am sure Alain will do well,” said Lady Harrison mournfully, “but
le pauvre
Monsieur Bellavant, and Mademoiselle de Grivis, and the others—where will they go?”

“They will get by,” Gabrielle assured her. “Hundreds of other émigrés have managed. You have protected them as long as you could, so pray do not fall into the megrims now. I have wonderful news!”

"Monsieur Everett has found us a cottage already?”

“Better. Lady Cecilia has invited us to spend the summer in the Dower House, at Wrotham!”

“At Wrotham!" Alain was startled. “Doro—Miss Everett has spoken to me about her home. I had never hoped to see it, but perhaps I may visit you there?”

“
Mais naturellement!
” Her ladyship beamed. “Gabrielle,
ce sera tout a fait merveilleux!
A vrai dire,
I do not think that a cottage would suit me.”

“That is what I feared, dear Madame, since our respectable house in Neuchâtel was too bourgeois for you. I was right to accept, then?”

“Of course, chérie.” Lady Harrison had no more qualms about accepting hospitality than she had about offering it.

"This Dower House, what sort of house is it?”

Gabrielle told what little she knew. Madame was delighted to hear that her advice on decorating was requested, and charmed at the prospect of travelling into Kent with the Everetts. If she was also amazed at the lengths to which Mr Everett would go for Gabrielle’s sake, after knowing her so short a time, she kept that to herself.

Alain begged off accompanying the ladies to Mrs Albright’s rout, but Gerard, still pale and repentant, offered his escort. Lady Harrison was struggling into her best gunmetal-grey silk evening gown when Lady Cecilia’s promised formal invitation was delivered. Putting off the moment of truth, she sat down at once to write a graceful acceptance.

* * * *

Dorothea begged off accompanying her mother and brother to Mrs Albright’s rout. Her best friend had invited her to a small party for young people (well chaperoned of course), to play at fish and forfeits and spillikins and such nursery games, and perhaps stand up for a country dance or two. It sounded much more amusing than another grand crush, said Dorrie.

Mr Everett was struggling into his tight-fitting coat, and wishing he had had the sense to continue his self-imposed exile from the amusements of the Beau Monde, when a note was delivered. Scrawled in an uneducated hand on a tattered scrap of paper, it was addressed to Baxter, but the valet handed it to his master at once.

“From Ted?” enquired Mr Everett, unfolding the missive and attempting to decipher the writing.

“Sir,” affirmed the monosyllabic manservant with a nod of his bald head.

“It seems Sir Oswald’s lawyer has the reputation of a shyster. How perceptive of Lady Harrison! Ted has located Mr Hubble’s offices at Lincoln’s Inn. I believe I shall go and see Mr Hubble tomorrow.”

“Sir.”

“No, on second thoughts, if the man is a shady character himself, he might get the wind up and destroy evidence, or even warn our quarry. Baxter, tell Ted to see if he can worm his way in and find any papers relating to the Harrison family. He is not to take anything. Nothing to be put in writing, and if he’s caught doing anything illegal we don’t know him.”

“Sir.”

“I pray I never meet your friend Ted in a dark alley.” Mr Everett examined himself in the mirror on his dressing table. He looked, he thought, unexceptionable. Vaguely dissatisfied, he swept his hand through his hair, leaving it in fashionable disarray, Now he looked merely unkempt. With a sigh he picked up his brush and restored it to order. “Thank you, Baxter, that is all. I may be late tonight, don’t wait up.”

“Sir.”

* * * *

Mrs Albright had described her party as a rout rather than a ball because of the unfortunate absence of a formal ballroom in her town house, about which she had been complaining for years. To make up for this deficiency, she had cleared every stick of furniture out of her large drawing room, hung it with Indian silk, and hired just two musicians so that they would not take up too much space. She had also provided a variety of attractions in other rooms in the hope that not too many of her guests would choose to dance.

Mr Everett wandered through the house searching for Gabrielle. She was not listening to the soprano in the conservatory. She was not playing silver loo in the library. She was not making polite conversation, nor exchanging gossip, in the small drawing room. She was not in the dining room sampling the lobster patties. She was not in the billiard room, but Gerard was, watching the play, and Mr Everett approached him.

“Good evening," he said. “Where is your sister?”

“I’m not betting,” said Gerard defensively. “Just watching.”

Mr Everett’s lips twitched, but he said with perfect gravity, “I am glad to see you are not in the card room.”

“Oh, I don’t care for cards above half. Nor dice, either. It’s the other things, like curricle races and how long it takes to down a pint of porter, that’s what did it. But I do think it was downright treacherous of Gaby to have squeaked beef to you!”

“Take a damper, young man. She didn’t. I guessed.”

“Oh. I see.”

“She said it was none of my business how you came to land in the suds.”

“She’s a right one, Gabrielle! She never used to tattle to Miss Wilford or Papa when I found myself in a hobble, just helped me out. I say, sir, thank you for finding us a place for the summer. Is there good shooting at Wrotham?”

“Come and see me tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about Wrotham. At present I am looking for your sister!”

“She was dancing last time I saw her, with Sir Hubert Rathwycke, I think.”

“Thank you,” said Mr Everett, with a calmness he was far from feeling. Sir Hubert again! Was Miss Darcy attracted by the undoubtedly handsome young rake? He scowled at himself in the hallway mirror as he hurried towards the sound of music.

He was in time to see the end of the dance. Gabrielle and Sir Hubert were a good-looking couple, both with dark, vivid colouring, and they twirled about the floor as if they had been practising together. Mr Everett ground his teeth audibly, earning a surprised glance from an elderly matron standing nearby.

The cotillion came to an end. Ladies curtsied to their partners. Pink and breathless, Gabrielle approached the door on Sir Hubert’s arm, saw Mr Everett, and greeted him eagerly.

“May I have the next dance, Miss Darcy?” he requested, nodding curtly to her companion.

“Of course, if you will sit it out with me. I could not stand up again immediately to save my life.” She fanned herself vigorously. “Pray excuse me, Sir Hubert, Mr Everett will take me to Lady Harrison.”

Dismissed, the baronet took his leave with a bow and a smile.

"He is a monstrous fine dancer,” said Gabrielle as soon as he was out of earshot, “But a prodigious bore! Is it not provoking? He has no conversation beyond fulsome compliments, which are very pleasant for the first five minutes and then become insupportable.”

Mr Everett's face lost its glower. “Don’t, I beg of you, let him hear you say that!” he advised her with a grin. “I can think of nothing he would consider more insulting.”

“No, for he fancies himself a nonpareil, and God’s gift to the ladies. Madame says he has a raffish reputation and I should not be seen with him, but he is such an accomplished dancer and I cannot think it dangerous to stand up with him now and then.”

“So long as you do nothing to set the tabbies’ tongues wagging. I have news for you. Is there somewhere we may be private?”