The Solitary Envoy (24 page)

When the carriage pulled up in front of the ambassador’s new residence, Erica needed but a single glance to see that things were not right. “I knew it!”

“Knew what, my dear?”

“They are cheating you.”

To her surprise, Lavinia halted her with a firm grip upon her arm. “Are you positive?”

“It’s right there before our eyes!”

“Yours perhaps, but not mine. Never mind. I want you to sit back and take a deep breath.”

“But—”

“Do as I say.” Lavinia waited until she was certain she had Erica’s full attention. “One thing I have learned from my husband is how to deal with such issues. Do not confront this directly.”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you think it would be for you to accuse this builder of fraud and trickery?”

“But he is doing just that!”

“I have no doubt. My husband has suspected as much for weeks. But my dear, we must still deal with him.”

“Deal with him?” Erica felt like one of those tropical birds that could mimic only a few words.

“We need him to finish the house, do you see? If you, a young woman, publicly shame him with accusations that cannot be denied, we will have no end of trouble.” Lavinia waited for that to sink in. “Diplomacy is an art. It is a means by which the impossible issues of life, the things that are so serious and severe they can lead nations to war, are instead dealt with in polite conversation. And that is what you must do here.”

“You want me to be diplomatic.”

“Just so.” Lavinia leaned out the carriage’s open window. “Jacob?”

“Ma’am.”

“Be so good as to ask the master builder to join us for a moment.”

Erica watched Lavinia settle back into her seat. Anyone who mistook Lavinia Aldridge for a simple housewife was making a most serious error.

She observed Jacob approach the master builder and wondered frantically what she was to say. As the two men picked their way out of the building site and approached the carriage, it seemed as though her mind was being compressed by a demand that was beyond her abilities. Then she recalled her meeting downstairs in Mr. Aldridge’s office. She saw anew how Samuel Aldridge had handled that strange man in the powdered wig, how Mr. Carnathan had been confronted with all his misdeeds without Samuel saying a single word of accusation.

Erica repeated, “Diplomatic.”

“Smile if you are able. It sweetens the most bitter of words.”

So it was that when the master builder approached the carriage, he found himself greeted by Erica’s most brilliant of smiles. “Miss Langston.” He swept off his cap and revealed a few blunt and yellowing teeth. “Good day to you!”

“A good morning to you, Master Dobbins. I hope you are well.”

“Aye, miss. Couldn’t be better. Now that the arrears have been settled I’m doing just fine. Had my first decent night’s sleep in a month, I did.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.” Erica felt her smile was cemented into place. “I do so hope your men are going to recover swiftly from their ailments.”

“My … Excuse me, miss, I don’t understand.”

“I can only assume that an epidemic has swept through this building site, Mr. Dobbins. My bills from you show you have had twenty-four workers on this site every day, week in and week out, for almost three months. And today there are only, how many? Forgive me, sir, the sun is so bright I have difficulty counting.” His eyes widened, as though he too was having difficulty focusing clearly. “How many men?”

“Are there four workers there? No, forgive me. Five counting yourself, of course. And just two of them bricklayers, and they are both mere children. How old are these apprentices?

Nine? Ten?”

“I’m not quite—”

“Which is astounding, of course, since every bill has shown four master bricklayers with seven apprentices. And they have worked, rain and shine, every day without pause. So I can only assume it was a sudden epidemic that has swept across the site this day.” She leaned through the window and let him see a trace of the steam behind her sweet tone. “And no doubt your bill for this day’s work will show as much.”

He fidgeted with the hat he held within his two dusty hands. “My bill.”

“Naturally I shall hope and pray for your entire team’s speedy recovery. And I shall return every day to ensure that they are well.”

The builder squeaked, “What?”

“As the ambassador has left me responsible for paying you and your men, my concern for their health could not be higher.” She let that hang in the air between them, then said, “Good day, Master Dobbins.”

Erica leaned back in the carriage, utterly spent.

Lavinia called out, “Off we go, Jacob.”

When the carriage was once again under way, Lavinia reached forward and patted Erica’s knee. “Shall I tell you something, my dear? My husband, in his finest hour, could have done no better.”

The day was with them from the start. Abbie hung from the windows, bouncing back and forth across the carriage, trying to see everything at once. She sang out the street names and a constant barrage of questions. Erica felt like singing along with her.

They crossed the royal parks, with Buckingham Palace rising through the trees. They traversed Westminster Bridge in both directions because Abbie liked the view so. They rode along street after street of new terraced houses, testimony to a nation eager to put the war behind it. Of course, Lavinia reminded her, it was not the American war she referred to. The British hardly gave that one a thought. She meant the war against Napoleon. The war that had consumed over a thousand ships and almost half a million men, a war that had stretched over seventeen countries and almost as many years. Erica sat and watched and listened gratefully as Lavinia placed the sights in a modern context.

They passed through one of the many harbor areas, for
London was above all a city that lived from its connection to the Thames. This one was called Scotland Yard, a name from beyond time. Long lines of ancient willows gave way to reeking inns where barge captains and harbor workers hung their hammocks. They continued on past the vast sculptured gardens of Northumberland House, where it was said that more than two hundred men worked year round to keep the grounds as perfect as a queen’s drawing room. They passed Somerset House, an imposing structure designed like a Venetian palace. Beyond that rose the crown of St. Paul’s Cathedral. They wound their way back by the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, the gothic structures of rose and ochre and cream glowing like jewels in the sun.

They crossed the river any number of times, so often Erica lost count and forgot all the bridges’ names. Abbie loved these crossings most of all. She loved the gray waters sweeping through the heart of the city, the multitude of brick factories springing up along the docks, the swarming workers, and most of all the boats. The river was packed with commercial crafts and pleasure seekers. There were barges and lateen-sailed square-hulls and great trading vessels being rowed upstream by longboats packed with oarsmen.

The one troubling moment came on the river’s Surrey side, just beyond the stretch of new warehouses that crowded in close to the bank. According to Lavinia, this was a region known as St. George’s Field, but Erica saw neither meadow nor any green whatsoever. Instead their carriage passed through a boggy lowland that stank of mud and humanity. The open plain was now covered with an endless sprawl of hovels.

Erica watched as Abbie moved back from the window. Lavinia did not say anything but gathered up her child and let Abbie nestle her face into her dress. Erica understood then. This portion of the journey was for her benefit alone. She forced herself to study the tragedy stretching out on either side of the road.

“The squatters’ town extends out all the way to Southwark,” Lavinia said quietly. “No one knows how many live here. They have never been counted.”

Here and there rose brick edifices, so covered by soot it was hard to tell their original color. Streams of men and women came and went through doors that loomed like the maw of some great beast. “Why have these people come to live here?”

“The Land Enclosures Acts. You have heard of these?”

“The name only.”

“Entire villages have been emptied and shuttered because of them. This is the result.”

“I don’t like this, Mama,” Abbie complained.

“No, child. Nor I.”

As though in response to the child’s complaint, the carriage took a turn around the obelisk at the junction of Borough and Greenwich roads, and they headed back toward the river.

Erica asked quietly, “Why did you want me to see this?”

“The Dissenters have two great causes, both of which make them the enemy of the prince regent. First, they wish to outlaw slavery.” Lavinia shifted so as to allow Abbie to burrow her head into her shoulder. “Many of the regent’s staunchest supporters are drawn from the East India Party. This group represents the plantation owners throughout the Caribbean and southern colonies, as well as those who grow fat from the miserable traffic in humanity.”

“And their second cause?”

“Mr. Wilberforce calls it the reformation of manners. By this he means to change the morality of British society, one person at a time. The Dissenters work tirelessly among the poorest of the poor. They have established the first hospitals in history where no one is turned away, no matter if they are able to pay for their care. They have begun a new system that has spread throughout England called Sunday school. They teach any who care to learn how to read and write, using the Bible as their guide. Wilberforce is also seeking to change the nation’s laws. He is the voice of the voiceless you see living here.”

Only when they passed back through the line of riverfront warehouses and began across the Thames did Abbie slide down from her mother’s lap and return to the window. But the atmosphere within the carriage remained subdued. From her perch overlooking the river traffic, Abbie said, “I want to help the voiceless, Mama.”

“As do I,” Erica added solemnly. “Very much.”

So it was that when they pulled up in front of the confectioner’s shop, Erica found herself unable to leave the carriage. “I think I should perhaps see to one more thing today.”

“You’re not coming?” Abbie was astounded. “But you must.”

“There is a matter your father has asked me to help him with, you see.”

“But this is the most beautiful place in the whole world! And there are four people who sit in a corner and play the most beautiful music. And the waitresses come around in starched aprons and pinafores and they bring you so many things the little tables look like they hold mountains of teas and chocolates. And there are little sandwiches and bits of the most delicious salmon and fruit tarts and tea cakes and strawberries and jams and fresh clotted cream.” Abbie had to stop because she had run out of both breath and words. She waved her hands about for a moment, then added, “You said you would come!”

“Abbie,” said Lavinia. “You know how Papa works ever so hard, and sometimes he needs others to help him.”

Abbie looked from one adult to the other. “Is it about the poor people?”

“We hope so.”

“I suppose you must go, then.” Abbie brightened. “Shall I bring you out a tea cake and fresh jam to give to them?”

“There’s a splendid idea,” Lavinia said. “Why don’t we go inside and have a lovely time, then we can bring home a packet full of goodies for Papa and Erica. Would you like that?”

“I suppose so,” Abbie said. “But I will miss you just the same.”

Jacob Harwell moved from the perch beside the driver down to share the carriage with Erica as they traveled. He did not ask where they were going or why. Erica sat across from him and pretended to watch the people and buildings with fascination. In truth her mind was all a muddle. She should have been thinking about the coming encounter. And she did feel a flutter of nerves over seeing Gareth Powers again. But whether it was from fear or anger or excitement, she could not say. What she knew for certain was at this moment a young man was seated across from her, watching her avidly and waiting for the chance to speak.

Should she be diplomatic, she wondered. And if so, how to do this without opening herself to further approaches? Erica sighed. Life was such a bewilderment. When the carriage stopped before the printer’s, she made no move to alight.