Elizabeth Mansfield (25 page)

“No, of course not, Oswald. I shall simply have Hicks set two more places. It will be very pleasant to expand our party. Let’s see … with you, Ethelyn, Ada, Thomas and me … that means we shall be seven all together. I’d better tell Cook at once.”

But there were to be eight. When Lord Jeffries and his wife tapped at the door a little before nine that evening, they were accompanied by a naval officer in full dress uniform. “I hope your mistress
won’t mind my having brought an extra guest,” Lord Jeffries said, handing his chapeaubras to Hicks.

Hicks, in turn, passed the chapeaubras to Daniel, who was standing just behind him, stiff and uncomfortable in his formal livery. The footman put out his hand to take the hat when he saw the face of the “extra guest.” The chapeaubras fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers. It was all he could do to keep from gasping.

“I’m sure my mistress will be delighted,” Hicks said with a polite smile, bending down smoothly and retrieving the fallen headpiece. He thrust it into Daniel’s hand with a warning glare and, his face restored to composure, turned to assist Lady Jeffries with her cloak.

The “extra guest” handed his hat to Daniel and turned away, but Daniel had gotten a close-enough look to be certain he wasn’t mistaken. The gentleman was sickeningly familiar. He was tall, thin, with iron grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The only thing unfamiliar about his face was a livid scar which ran from the bridge of his nose diagonally across his forehead to the left corner of his hairline. But Daniel knew quite well how the scar had come there … and he felt his blood run cold.
Oh, God
, he thought wildly,
how can I warn Tom
?

Hicks had removed Lady Jeffries’ cloak, and he tossed it to Daniel as he led the guests toward the drawing room where the family waited. Daniel, in a helpless panic, followed them down the hall, hoping desperately for some sort of inspiration which would suggest a way out. But none came.

Hicks threw open the doors of the drawing room. “Lady Jeffries, Lord Jeffries, and Captain Everard Brock,” he announced as the guests filed in.

While Oswald jumped to his feet (with all the alacrity that his huge bulk permitted) and began to make the introductions, Daniel peered over the butler’s shoulder into the room. He spotted Tom almost at once and knew immediately that his friend had recognized the unexpected guest. Tom was poised, immobile, halfway between sitting and standing, his hand extended, a smile frozen on his face. Oswald was leading Captain Brock, of His Majesty’s Ship
Undaunted
, across the room to meet him, but before the meeting took place, Tom’s eyes met Daniel’s. And, in that one timeless moment, each could read in the other’s face the starkly terrifying certainty of impending doom.

“Captain Brock, may I present our host, Thomas Petersham? Thomas, the captain commands the
Undaunted
, which, you may know, distinguished itself at Camperdown.”

Tom pulled himself erect and smiled. “Who doesn’t know of the victory at Camperdown? This is indeed an honor, Captain Brock.”

The men shook hands. Captain Brock squinted at Tom closely. “We haven’t met before, have we? I have a feeling that—”

“I surely would have remembered meeting the captain of the
Undaunted
,” Thomas said smoothly. “But come and meet my wife, Captain. She won’t forgive me if I keep you too long to myself.”

As the rest of the introductions were made, Hicks and Daniel passed among the guests offering glasses of sherry. Tom, reaching for a glass from Daniel’s tray, moved aside with him as inconspicuously as he could. “We’re cooked fer sure,” Daniel whispered through unmoving lips. “Let’s make a run fer it.”

“No, I can’t do that to her ladyship. I’m going to play the game through to the finish. There’s a chance we’ll brush through. He hasn’t been able to place where he’s seen me.”

“It’s a dreadful chance t’ take.”

“I know.” Tom looked round at the captain, sitting at his ease and chatting comfortably with Oswald. “You keep yourself out of sight if you can. No use both of us getting caught in this trap.”

He moved back to the group and took a stance behind Camilla’s chair. The conversation seemed to concentrate itself on the Navy, with Captain Brock at the center of attention. Even the ladies questioned him about his voyages and battles. Tom listened but didn’t dare to contribute to the conversation. The less he drew attention to himself, the better. He only hoped that the conversation would veer in another direction; all this talk of ships and the Navy was decidedly dangerous.

Camilla, who was beginning to know him better than he dreamed, noticed his unusual silence. Just before dinner was announced, she managed to draw him aside. “Is anything amiss?” she asked nervously. “You’ve been very reserved.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard you complain on
that
score,” he said with a quick grin. But something in his eyes—a look of wary tension—troubled her, and she couldn’t return his smile.

The dining-room doors were thrown open at that moment, signaling the fact that dinner was ready to be served. “You haven’t really answered me, Thomas,” she whispered hastily. “Is there—”

“No, nothing. Don’t trouble yourself about me,” he assured her. “You’d better go along. Lord Jeffries is waiting to take your arm.”

The dinner, served with inconspicuous efficiency by Hicks, Daniel and two parlormaids, was impressively lavish. To Thomas’s relief, the food inspired a turn in the conversation. Lord Jeffries made a fuss over the fish stew, his wife sang the praises of the ragout and Oswald uttered effusive praise about everything. Lady Jeffries, a soft-spoken, fluttery woman with watery eyes and a way of hunching up her shoulders as if she were sitting in a perpetual draught, referred repeatedly to Camilla’s remarkable
ability to arrange so elaborate a dinner on such short notice. “And with an unexpected guest at the table as well!” she chirped in birdlike admiration. “You are much to be complimented.”

“Yes, you do seem to have learned to set an admirable table, Camilla,” Ethelyn admitted grudgingly. “I didn’t dream you could manage so well.”

While the guests continued to praise each dish set before them, a housemaid tiptoed in and spoke to Daniel. After a moment’s exchange with Hicks, the footman followed the maid from the room. Tom, Camilla and Miss Townley all noted the occurrence and exchanged looks, but since Hicks did not appear to be perturbed by the defection, they did nothing about it.

The subject of food could not be expected to hold the attention of the diners indefinitely, and before Tom was quite aware of how it had happened, Oswald had turned the conversation back to the subject of the Navy. He spoke with patriotic optimism of the coming naval confrontations with Napoleon’s fleet. “With men such as you in the Admiralty, Jeffries, with men like Nelson commanding the fleet, and with the like of Brock here captaining the ships of the line, we have nothing to fear,” he declared expansively, lifting his glass.

“That’s all very well,” Jeffries said after swallowing his wine, “but the French have some ships of excellent design, very swift in the water—”

“Remarkably swift,” Brock agreed. “I’ve seen them in action. They make many of ours seem like clumsy hulks.”

“But we far outnumber them, don’t we?” Oswald insisted. “And our men are better seamen. There’s no fighter in the world like the British tar.”

Tom felt himself stiffen, and his heart began to race. The closer they came to the subject of the recruitment of sailors, the more likely that Captain Brock’s memory would be jogged. “Do you go to the theater a great deal, Lady Jeffries?” he asked abruptly, in a desperate attempt to turn the subject.

Lord Jeffries, about to embark on the subject of British seamen, blinked at his host in surprise. Falcombe had told him that afternoon that this Mr. Petersham had expressed some brilliant and original ideas about naval practices, and he’d looked forward to discussing those ideas with him. Yet the fellow had uttered hardly a word all evening and was now embarking on a completely irrelevant matter. What was wrong with the chap?

Lady Jeffries, accustomed to being overshadowed by her influential, opinionated husband, was taken aback by her host’s unexpected interest. “Me?” she asked in her fluttery voice. “Why, no. I’m afraid not. My husband, you know, has little interest in drama and such fripperies.”

“That’s too bad,” Tom murmured, seeing his heavy-handed maneuver about to fail. “I’ve become interested, of late, in seeing a performance of … of …
King John
, and I wondered …”

Everyone seemed to be staring at him. “
King John
?” Lady Jeffries inquired in confusion.

“Yes. Shakespeare, you know. I wondered if you’d ever seen it,” he finished lamely.

“Oh, I see.” She gave a helpless little giggle. “No, I’m afraid I’m totally unfamiliar with
King John
.”

“Silly play,” Ethelyn said authoritatively, attacking the tender slice of beef on her plate with relish. “Full of illegitimacy and murder and pretenders-to-the-throne. I don’t know why you wish to see it.”

“Can’t call it silly,” Miss Townley objected, rushing to Thomas’s defense. “After all, Shakespeare—”

“Don’t know why you ladies always like to discuss plays and things when we can be speaking of really interesting matters like the naval war,” Oswald said bluntly. “Didn’t mean to cut you off, though, Miss Townley. If you want to prose on about Shakespeare, go right ahead.”

“No, not at all, Lord Falcombe,” Miss Townley said. “Don’t mind droppin’ the subject
of Shakespeare for the Navy, if that suits you better.”

“I must admit it does,” Oswald said. “Couldn’t ever understand why everyone’s so fascinated with dead Kings. I’d much rather talk about the here and now. Like what Jeffries here had to say about our British sailors. What were you saying, Jeffries?”

“I was about to say that our ships are grossly undermanned. The most serious problem is, was, and will probably always remain, recruitment.”

“Yes, I agree,” Oswald said eagerly. “That’s why I’d like you to hear Petersham’s ideas on the subject. Had me quite caught up when we discussed the subject yesterday. Tell him your analysis of the problem, Thomas.”

Tom would have liked to wring Oswald’s neck. “It wasn’t much of an analysis,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And I’d much rather talk about … about your stables, Oswald. How does one go about developing a reputable herd like the one at Wyckfield?”

Oswald’s mouth dropped open. “Nothing particularly reputable about our stock at Wyckfield. Can’t imagine what gave you such an idea. See here, old fellow, why are you suddenly becoming so modest about telling us your theory of naval re—”

He was interrupted by the sound of a female voice in the hallway outside the dining room. “
Hicks
?
Camilla
?”

“Good gracious, what was that?” Ethelyn asked, her head coming up with a start.

“Camilla, are you home? Where
is
everyone?” The voice was closer and clearer now.

“Oh, good God!” Camilla gasped, jumping from her chair. “
Georgie
! I completely
forgot
!”

The door of the dining room opened, and Lady Sturtevant, absorbed in the complicated process of removing the enormous, feathered hat she’d chosen to wear, strolled into the room. She glanced up as Camilla hurried up to her. “Ah, there you are, you beast. I’ve been waiting for you an
age
. Did you forget we were to go to—
Oh
!” She stared at the diners in amazement. “You have guests!”

“Yes, I—”

Georgina’s eyebrows shot up. That she should have broken in unannounced upon a dinner party was humiliating in the extreme. “I’m terribly sorry. I had no
idea
that—! I seem to have intruded.” She backed awkwardly to the door. “I thought we were going to the opera. I must have mistaken the date—”

“No, Georgie, it was
I
who mistook the date,” Camilla said, putting a trembling hand on her friend’s arm.

“Very rude sort of behavior, I must say,” Ethelyn muttered.

Camilla cast an agitated glance over her shoulder at her sister-in-law and turned back to her friend. “Yes, it was. Please forgive me, Georgie. I’ve been at sixes and sevens for the past two days. Lady Ethelyn and Lord Falcombe arrived, you see, quite unexpectedly—”

Georgina, offended at having been forgotten and excluded from these festivities by the person she’d considered her very closest friend, was about to withdraw her arm from Camilla’s clasp and stalk out of the room in high dudgeon when she became aware of the tension in her friend’s face. Something was very much amiss here. The names she’d just heard clicked into recognition. “Your
sister-in-law
?” she asked in an undervoice, realizing that Camilla was in some sort of difficulty.

Camilla nodded. Georgina, her irritation forgotten, gave her friend a speaking look of compassion.

“Well,
really
, Camilla, don’t just stand there like a gawk. Ask your friend to join us,” Ethelyn ordered in disgust.

Camilla reddened. There was nothing for it but to do as Ethelyn said. She would have to introduce Georgie to everyone at the table. But, if the pretense of the last two days was to continue, Georgie would have to behave as if she were well acquainted with “Mr. Petersham.” How could she warn her friend to
assist her in the deception? If only she’d found time to confide in her friend beforehand! Well, it was too late now. Her house of lies was about to come tumbling down about her head. “Yes, Georgie,” she said, swallowing courageously, “you must join us. Come and let me make you known to everyone.”

“Well, I shouldn’t. I should be on my way to the opera. But I’ll stay for a little while.”

“Good,” Camilla said, but her heart sank. She took her friend’s arm and led her to the table. “Lady Sturtevant, may I present Lady Jeffries, Lady Ethelyn Falcombe, Lord Jeffries, Lord Falcombe, Captain Brock and Miss Townley, whom you’ve met many times. And … and …” She gave her friend’s arm a warning pinch. “And of course, you know my h-husband—”