More than a Masquerade by Adele Clee

Chapter 18

Eli saton the sofa in the Hart Street drawing room, observing Lord Meyer’s arrogant bearing as he lounged in the chair opposite. Having sent news to Blackstone of this sudden development, they were awaiting Rachel’s arrival.

Lucius Daventry poured the lord a glass of brandy. He crossed the room and thrust it at the gentleman. “My agent should be here shortly, though I’m surprised Peel didn’t summon us to his office.”

“I’ll not have every Whig in Westminster spying on my business.”

“Your business will soon be common knowledge,” Eli countered. “No doubt Rowlandson will make an amusing sketch of the courtroom drama.”

Lord Meyer tossed back his brandy. “There won’t be a trial.”

“You sound so confident. Have you come to confess?”

The ring of the doorbell proved a welcome distraction.

Rachel appeared looking flustered, yet utterly adorable. “I’m so sorry for the delay. I came as quickly as I could.” She stopped abruptly upon seeing the golden-haired peer sitting in the chair.

Eli and Meyer stood.

“Allow me to introduce Lord Meyer.” Daventry gestured to Rachel. “Miss Gambit is one of my best enquiry agents and has been assigned to Mary Harcourt’s case.”

“Agents? You hired a woman to do a man’s work?” Lord Meyer mocked. “You’ve had a damn woman prying into my personal affairs?”

Eli was about to deliver a harsh reprimand, but Daventry seized the opportunity. “Change your tone, Meyer. I don’t care who you are. You’ll pay my agents the respect they deserve, or you’ll get the hell out of my house.”

Forced to clear his throat to disguise his embarrassment, Lord Meyer said, “You’re as unconventional as they say, Daventry. I suppose I’ve no choice but to comply.”

“If it’s unconventional to employ someone on merit, then yes.” Daventry motioned for Rachel to sit. “Lord Meyer is about to tell us why he summoned Peel to meet him in Hyde Park this morning.”

Meyer jerked his head. “How the devil do you know I rode in Hyde Park?”

“We’ve had a man watching you for days,” Eli informed him.

The lord muttered a curse. “Who paid you to represent Mary?”

“Someone who believes she’s innocent,” Rachel added.

“I suspect she is innocent,” Meyer snapped. “I only discovered the extent of my wife’s involvement last night. My groom Briggs came to me, concerned for his position and his life. He gave me a calling card, mentioned an official letter, which led me to consult Peel. Peel suggested I come here.”

With a choice of numerous chairs around the room, Rachel sat next to Eli. “So, until yesterday, you believed Mary stole your wife’s jewels?”

All the men resumed their seats.

“Indeed. Having spoken to my housekeeper and offered certain assurances, she informed me she suspects my wife hid the jewels beneath the boards in Mary’s room.”

“And why would your wife do that, my lord?”

“Because she wanted rid of Mary.” When threatened by Daventry to explain his relationship with the maid, the lord blurted, “Yes, yes, I paid Mary to have my child and agreed to let her keep her position. She’s a sweet little thing, and it was no hardship.”

Eli gritted his teeth lest he grab the pompous cad by his starched cravat and slam his fist down his throat. “And Mary agreed to this arrangement?”

Meyer took exception to the comment. “I didn’t force the girl. But I needed an heir before my damn cousin finds a means to do away with me.”

“An heir? So, you intended to pass the child off as your wife’s,” Rachel stated. “You had Lady Meyer fool everyone into believing she is carrying a child and assumed Mary would support the story.”

Meyer frowned. “That may have been the original plan, but thankfully my wife is with child. By God’s good grace, it happened only a month after Mary confirmed her condition. Consequently, I purchased a cottage for Mary out near Mile End, agreed to pay for the boy’s education and provide an allowance. That was before I learnt of Mary’s scheme to steal my wife’s jewels, steal my son away from me and run off with the footman.”

Eli sat back and considered the information.

“And you learnt all that from your wife?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, she found the couple in a clinch. The footman confessed. That’s when we discovered the jewels beneath the boards in Mary’s room.”

“And now?” Eli prompted.

“Now I’m told my wife invented the tale to get rid of Mary and the child.” Meyer drained his glass of brandy. “I’ve told Peel the theft was a mistake. Jealousy made my wife believe Mary was scheming against her. Peel said he wished to hear your evidence before referring the matter. I shall pay Mary for the inconvenience, and she can still have the cottage. For some bizarre reason, you need to agree, Daventry.”

“Pay Mary for the inconvenience of almost having her neck snapped?” Eli mocked. “I doubt the Lord would forgive such a sin.”

Meyer shrugged. “Mary understands my wife can be quite volatile. There’s no harm done.”

Astounded at the lord’s arrogance, no one replied.

After a prolonged silence, Rachel asked, “Did your wife confess to lying about Mary?”

“No, we’ve not spoken, but I’m aware Tinsley and his mother are at the cottage looking after the babe. My wife agreed we could send the child to live at my country estate after the trial. Indeed, tomorrow she is retiring there for the last few weeks of her confinement.” He gave a nonchalant wave. “I say trial, but that was when I believed in Mary’s guilt.”

Lady Meyer’s plan formed in Eli’s head. She would leave London, pretend to have her child early at a coaching inn, perhaps. Then she would visit Mile End and steal Mary’s babe to pass off as her own.

What about Tinsley and his mother?

Maybe Lady Meyer would set fire to the cottage so everyone would presume Mary’s babe had died in the blaze. She would hide out somewhere for a few months, pretend she’d been unwell after the birth, so that when she presented Mary’s child, no one questioned why it wasn’t a newborn. Who could tell the difference between a four and five-month-old babe?

Rachel must have arrived at a similar conclusion. “We have evidence to suggest your wife is not with child. We have a sworn statement from her physician in Brighton confirming she is barren and that she asked him to lie about examining her.”

“We believe she wanted rid of Mary because she intends to fool you into thinking the boy is her child.” Eli relayed his suspicions, and what he suspected was Lady Meyer’s plan. “Can you confirm your wife is with child? Can you swear you have seen the physical evidence for yourself?”

Lord Meyer’s arrogance abandoned him. “We have separate chambers. After struggling to conceive, she refuses to take risks.”

“You mean you’ve not seen your wife’s naked body for some time.”

“No. Fear has her bathing herself, dressing herself. She lives in a state of anxiety and cries constantly.”

Surely the servants had noticed something was amiss.

Surely those responsible for the laundry knew of the deception.

“Have you been intimate with Mary since learning of your wife’s condition?” Eli asked, attempting to establish a motive for Lady Meyer’s shocking behaviour. “Have you been intimate with Mary in the months before her arrest?”

Meyer huffed. “I’ll not answer that.”

“You will,” Daventry insisted.

“I won’t.”

“Then this meeting is over. Tell Peel we refuse to accept your version of events.”

Meyer gave a frustrated growl. “Curse the saints! What do you want me to say? That Mary is like a breath of fresh air? That she doesn’t burden a man or constantly hold him to account?”

Amid the awkward silence, amid Rachel’s mutter of disgust, Daventry turned to Eli. “Having found no association between Belton and our members, we must assume Lady Meyer is the person connected to our traitor.”

“Traitor!” Lord Meyer shot out of his chair. “I can assure you, my wife is not involved in a treason plot!”

“Not treason against king and country,” Daventry corrected before demanding the lord return to his seat. “While it’s our intention to have Mary released, we cannot agree to your terms until we discover if your wife has other secrets.”

Rachel reached for her satchel. “As to that, sir, I have managed to decipher the code. Mr Truscott sent books to Blackstone. I’ve spent the last two hours identifying the symbols.” She removed a sheaf of paper. “If you will, I can read the message.”

Daventry waved for her to continue. “By all means.”

Rachel cleared her throat and read:

Meet noon Monday Greenwich.

Soon you’ll see your son.

He’ll have your mesmerising eyes, your loyal heart.

He’ll thank you for giving us this chance.

He’ll thank fate for bringing us together.

Love Venus

“Venus!” Lord Meyer snapped. “Venus! My wife often refers to herself as such.”

“This letter was found a month ago, my lord, dropped by a man we’re keen to identify. It’s written in symbols.” Rachel rummaged around in her satchel and removed the original document. She crossed the room and presented it to Meyer. “Do you recognise any of them?”

Meyer studied the letter before handing it back. “Are you implying I’m a cuckold, madam?”

A cuckold? The lord was ignorant to his own hypocrisy.

“We believe your wife manipulated this man because he knew information about Mary Harcourt’s case.” Rachel returned to her seat. “Rest assured, Peel will hear of your co-operation. Be certain, we will catch this man and then the depth of your wife’s duplicity will be known to all.”

A small doubt entered Eli’s mind. How had Lady Meyer discovered the identity of a council member? No one knew the names of the men who solved problems behind the scenes.

Meyer hung his head while considering his dilemma. He’d been so sure they’d agree to his demands, so confident he had the upper hand.

“Well, Lord Meyer?” Daventry prompted. “Answer Miss Gambit’s question. Are any of those symbols familiar to you?”

Meyer raised his head. “My wife has similar letters at home from a childhood friend. They shared a love of the stars, and she often walks the grounds outside the Greenwich Observatory.”

“I see.” Daventry crossed the room, locked the door and slipped the key into his coat pocket. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave, not until we’ve established the recipient’s identity.”

“What the devil?” This time, Meyer lacked the will to stand.

“You’ve two choices, my lord,” Rachel said. “You can assist us by laying a trap for your wife. Then you will discover the truth for yourself. Or we shall send for Peel and see what he has to say on the matter.”

The lord sat silently contemplating his fate before studying them with grim curiosity. “You confirm your intention is to free Mary?”

Daventry nodded.

“Very well. What do you intend to do?”

* * *

The Observatory sat on high ground in a royal park with impressive views over the Thames. Built on the ruined Greenwich Castle site, one could see their enemies approaching from all directions.

“According to my almanack, the sun is due to set at six o’clock.” Rachel squinted to read the page in her tiny book while hiding behind a tree that offered a clear view of the impressive building. “It must be five o’clock now. Let’s hope Lady Meyer and her mystery lover are on time, else we might lose them in the dark.”

Eli watched the couples and families strolling about the grounds, wondering if the traitor might wear a disguise. “The sun will set in half an hour. One only need consider its position and note the sky’s golden hue.”

Rachel glanced heavenward. “You’re right. These books are often a little vague.” She slipped the almanack back into her reticule. “Do you think Lady Meyer will come?”

“Let’s hope the letters you crafted will make her and her lover panic.”

Under pressure to hurry, Rachel had written five letters in the secret code. One to Lady Meyer—a quick message to meet at five o’clock in Greenwich, a matter of some urgency. She played to Lady Meyer’s vanity and mentioned it might be their last rendezvous. Letters were sent to Truscott, Cantrell, Swanson and Young, who were all staying at their London abodes. Indeed, Eli had summoned Young and Swanson to the Hatton Garden office to hear Mr Belton’s confession.

“Can we trust Lord Meyer not to charge out of his hiding place?”

“Daventry has him on a tight leash.”

The men stood near the boundary wall, watching the winding path leading from the park below up to the entrance. Miss Dutton and Miss Wild sat on a wooden bench, the Observatory behind them, pretending to admire the views across London. Bower and D’Angelo had a miniature of Lady Meyer and were tasked with waiting in the park and following the lady should she make the steep climb.

“My heart is racing.” Rachel touched Eli’s upper arm. “What if the penny boy failed to deliver the letters and ran off with his bounty?”

“You can trust Daventry to ensure the plan is implemented with the utmost precision.” They were moments away from catching a traitor—moments away from concluding the case, from Daventry tearing them apart and giving Rachel another assignment. The need to speak from the heart proved too powerful to ignore. “This might not be the right time to make a confession, but there’s something I must say.”

“A confession?” Her eyes flashed with intrigue.

“A declaration.”

Her features softened. “Whatever it is, it sounds quite serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything.” He reached for her gloved hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. “Has anyone ever told you how remarkable you are?”

She smiled. “Only you.”

“Has anyone ever told you they’d rather die than spend a night without you?” He knew the answer. “Told you they’ll love no one but you their whole life?”

“Never,” she whispered.

“I’m in love with you, Rachel. I know it’s not the right time to reveal the true depth of my feelings, but at home our passions overwhelm us, and whatever happens here will result in me leaving to deal with the Council.”

She glanced behind before cupping his face and kissing him on the mouth. “I’m in love with you, Eli. I’m so in love with you I can barely raise a rational thought.” She kissed him again. “And you’re right. Had you told me at home, we’d have invariably ended up in bed.”

A rush of euphoria left him grinning. He was gathering the courage to ask her to marry him when she tapped him on the chest.

“Don’t turn around. Mr Swanson is trudging up the path. He’s alone but seems to be looking for someone.”

“Swanson?” he whispered. “Are you certain?”

“Positive.”

“Swanson is Lady Meyer’s mystery lover?”

“Maybe they share a love of astronomy,” Rachel said. “Like us, maybe they share a love for adventure.”

Strange. He was convinced Swanson preferred men. And despite all evidence to the contrary, he’d seemed committed to Themis. Still, he had failed in his task to prove David Scrivens innocent. Done a rather shoddy job, truth be told. But how had he accessed the Sanctum with only one key?

“What is Swanson doing now?”

Rachel peered over Eli’s shoulder. “He’s waiting outside the Observatory. He’s pulled his watch from his pocket and is checking the time. Should we approach him?”

Every instinct said no. “We wait for Daventry’s signal.”

It didn’t come.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes.

“Mr Daventry must be waiting for Lady Meyer to arrive,” Rachel whispered. “If we stand still any longer, I’ll be plagued by cramp.”

Eli brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Tonight, when we’re in bed, I shall massage your toes, your ankles, your knees and thighs. I’ll relax you so you’ll never suffer from the affliction again.”

“Is it possible to get cramp in intimate places, do you suppose?” Her teasing smile faded. “Good Lord, Mr Swanson is leaving. Should we go after him?”

Again, Eli looked towards Lucius Daventry, but the man remained steadfast in his purpose. His patience reaped results. A woman wearing a wool cloak, the fur-trimmed hood raised, came trudging up the steep path, her breathing laboured. She scanned the grounds, then straightened and marched towards the entrance.

She waited for five or more minutes until a gentleman appeared.

Eli turned away sharply. “Damnation.”

“Is that Mr Young?”

“Indeed. No doubt he’s meeting Lady Meyer.” Eli gritted his teeth. He should have known. Young had an impeccable record for saving the innocent. Had foiled a plot to murder the king. Yet, everything about his recent actions cried amateur.

“Yes, he’s walked up to her. She’s lowered her hood. He’s captured her hand and kissed her palm. Oh, she’s opened her cloak, and he’s touching her swollen stomach.”

“Harlot!” came Lord Meyer’s cry.

Ladies strolling around the grounds gasped.

Lady Meyer’s head whipped in her husband’s direction.

“We move now.” Eli placed a guiding hand at Rachel’s back.

Everyone left their positions and advanced on Young and Lady Meyer. Daventry looked ready to string Young up from the nearest tree. Eli’s mood turned solemn. It was never a nice feeling to see a good man reduced to the rank of scoundrel.

“Meyer,” the lady croaked. “Must you use such an obscenity in public?”

“Harlot!” the lord shouted again. “Most people meet their lovers in dark, secluded places.”

“Or they simply take a trip to the attic.”

Daventry cut a menacing figure as he stepped forward. “I’ll hear your explanation now, Young. I’ll hear it in front of witnesses.”

“Explanation?” Young’s shocked stare turned into an angry glare. “You’re the one who’s broken cover. Are we not attempting to prove Mary Harcourt is innocent?”

“You’re tasked with saving David Scrivens,” Eli reminded him. “And you dropped the coded letter while fleeing Trēowith, else you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“The coded letter implies Lady Meyer is carrying your child,” Rachel added, “which proves you have had relations with her within the last eight months. Why else would you stroke her stomach with such fondness?”

“We’re childhood friends,” Young countered.

Eli snorted. “You made no mention of that during our meetings. You should have declared the connection, yet you said nothing.”

Daventry’s mocking laugh could chill a man to the bone. “If Lady Meyer is such a good friend, why did she lie to you? Why let you believe she is with child when she’s barren?”

“Barren!” Lady Meyer parted her cloak. “Does it look like I’m barren?” She turned to her husband. “What nonsense is this?”

In a tone filled with indignation, Lord Meyer repeated everything they’d discussed in Hart Street. “You’re not leaving London. You’ll sleep in my bedchamber. You’ll be confined to bed until you give birth or until you prove to be a liar and a fraud. In which case, I shall make an appeal for a divorce. I have proof of your infidelity.”

Panic flittered across her face. “I—I am not coming home. I’m running away with Mr Young. We’ve been lovers for two years. You can tell the magistrate I did hide the jewels beneath the boards. I did make up a story to get rid of Mary.”

In planning to run away, the lady was admitting she was barren. Regardless who fathered the imagined child, Lord Meyer had right of ownership.

“Why the devil would you hurt the woman who agreed to help us?” Meyer said, ignoring her admission of infidelity. “Why the hell didn’t you just go along with the plan?”

“Because you continued to visit her night after night. I’m not deaf and blind. And I refused to condone it a moment longer. Mary had to learn her place is in the scullery.”

With his brow furrowed in confusion, Young cleared his throat. “Mary had your husband’s child so you could pass it off as your own?” He seemed disgusted by the notion. “You were willing so see Mary hang for a crime she didn’t commit because you were jealous?” He stepped away.

“Wait!” Lady Meyer reached for him. “Mary taunted me day and night with their affair. She made me quite ill. I might have lost your child. I couldn’t let it continue. You must see that.”

“His child!” Lord Meyer snapped.

“Sadly, Lady Meyer is carrying no one’s child.” Rachel approached Lady Meyer and captured her hands. “My lady,” she began, her voice brimming with compassion, “you must be exhausted. You’ve kept up the pretence for too long. It’s taken a toll on the health of your mind and your body. Speak the truth now and release yourself from this burden.” She glanced at Eli. “The truth is the best argument, the best defence.”

A tear trickled down Lady Meyer’s cheek.

“My lady, we live in a world where bearing children is considered a woman’s only use. I’m proof times are changing. I take risks, love the thrill of adventure, choose my own fate. If I marry, it will be for love, and to a man who understands my needs and desires.”

“A barren woman is considered a disgrace,” Lady Meyer whispered.

“A man who truly loved you wouldn’t think so.”

“I need a damn heir,” Lord Meyer countered. “It’s all that matters.”

Rachel ignored the arrogant oaf. “You see, Lord Meyer loves his fortune and his title more than he loves you. He’s not worth the lies and deceit. What you’ve done to Mary is unforgivable, and you must make amends.”

Young cleared his throat. “I’ve loved you all my life, Alice. But you chose wealth and title. Now you’ve done something unspeakable. Day by day, you seem to lose sight of who you are.”

“Young must love you dearly,” Daventry said with an air of regret. “He sacrificed everything his ancestors worked for. He’s destroyed his reputation to help you.”

Young had made the ultimate sacrifice.

Lady Meyer looked at Young. “I made a mistake. Had I Miss Gambit’s confidence, I would have married you. But you’re too good for me, Guy. You always were.” She inhaled deeply. “I’ve lied, lied to everyone in a desperate bid to prove my worth.”

Young shook his head. “I lied to my closest friends. I lied to you, too, Alice.” Young looked at Lucius Daventry. “She thinks I’m a land agent. She didn’t ask me to steal the files, but when I heard her name, I had to help her.” He sighed. “I believed the maid must be guilty. Love blinded me to the truth.”

Daventry firmed his jaw. “You should have come to me and told me of your connection. We would have approached the case from a different angle. Things would never have got this far.”

Young bowed his head in shame.

“You’re relieved of your position. I’ll have yours and Swanson’s keys delivered to Hart Street tonight. I demand the return of the sacred seal and the files you stole. And you owe Swanson an apology for stealing his key, for sending him a note to meet you here so you could be sure it wasn’t a trap.” He turned to Lady Meyer. “You’ll accompany me to visit Peel, where you’ll confess to lying about Mary Harcourt.”

Lady Meyer gave a solemn nod. “What will happen to me?”

“Nothing.” Those guilty of perjury were sentenced to the pillory or transported. Eli knew excuses would be made for her actions. At worst, she’d be banished to the country and forced to make a substantial donation to the Lying-In Hospital.

“But Mary will be released.” Rachel stepped back. “That’s what matters most.”

“I could have my wife committed to Bedlam.” Lord Meyer seemed keen on the idea. “Everyone here can vouch for her mental instability.”

“Do that, and I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Young cried.

A shot rang out. The ear-piercing crack had visitors ducking, walkers fleeing, had everyone looking for the source of the sound.

In a panic, Lord Meyer clasped his chest. He checked his palm, seemed shocked it wasn’t plastered with blood. Was even more shocked to see Young hadn’t whipped a pistol from his greatcoat pocket and fired.

An icy chill encased Eli’s heart moments before Rachel dropped to her knees, and the light in her eyes died.