Lady Sherry and the Highwayman (11 page)

So his benefactress
was
one of those pitiful females who would go to any lengths to introduce some excitement into their dreary lives. Micah was disappointed in her for the second time that day. “Consider Robin Hood’s successors,” he said perversely. “They may have robbed the rich, but not in the interest of social justice, I think.”

“You are a gentleman,” she prodded subtly. “You must have had some other motive for what you did than pure greed.”

Micah’s face twisted. “Don’t delude yourself, ma’am. Captain Toby has no conscience, social or otherwise. He does what he does for the pleasure of it and the profit. Nothing else.”

How strange to hear a man speak of himself in the third person as if he were talking about someone else. His conscience pained him, no doubt. And so it should, but Sherry saw no need for the man to wallow in his guilt. “Are you trying to frighten me?” she asked, in a tone calculated to indicate that she was nothing of the sort. “By reminding me that I have a hardened criminal hidden beneath my roof? Will you repay me by stealing the silver and murdering us all in our beds?”

Now he looked startled. “I didn’t say that. You’ve nothing to fear from me, ma’am.”

Curiously enough, Sherry believed him. No wonder her manuscript was proving difficult, because her hero was nothing like this highwayman. She foresaw massive revisions.

She also foresaw a pleasurable interval of plumbing the depths of the highwayman’s mind. Sherry remembered another bit of highwayman lore she would rather not have thought of just then, concerning the miraculous powers of a body that had been hanged. The mere wood chippings from the gallows were said to cure the ague and a splinter the headache, whereas the hand of the corpse was an excellent remedy for goiters and ulcers and cancerous growths. Sherry didn’t know how Micah felt about the matter, but she for one preferred that he should not benefit his fellow man to that extent.

He looked exhausted. “I’ve kept you talking too long!” Sherry said guiltily, as she rose from her chair, and picked up the tray.

Micah caught her hand again as she passed by the sofa where he lay. “You still haven’t told me what has you fretting your guts to fiddlestrings,” he murmured.

Sherry looked at his hand, so dark against her fair skin. Again she felt that giddiness. “It’s nothing to concern yourself about,” she said.

Anything that concerned this lady, and this household, must concern Micah as long as he was kept prisoner here by his accursed leg. He was so very tired just now, without energy left to pursue the matter. “Come back. Later.” He released her, and closed his eyes.

Sherry gazed down upon his face.  The die was truly cast. She quietly closed the door of her book room and went in search of Sir Christopher.

Chapter Eleven

Lady Childe was reclining on her sofa, a very elegant piece of furniture in the classical mode, with a boldly curved headpiece and a short armrest, a low, scrolled end and lion-shaped legs. In her pretty muslin dress, Lavinia looked very lovely, save for her expression of extreme discontent. Even a glance at her reflection in a pier glass, which assured her that she was as close to perfection as she had ever been, did not elevate her spirits.

Lavinia sighed, undraped herself from the sofa, and retrieved her needlework from a brass-inlaid mahogany chair. Her current project involved roses, daisies, and strawberry blossoms embellished with leaves and a realistic-looking caterpillar, all done in petit point. Alas, that occupation soon also  palled. Fortunately, the butler appeared in the doorway then to announce the arrival of Lord Viccars.

Lady Childe promptly set aside her needlepoint. This eagerness on her part must not be misconstrued. Lavinia was fond of his lordship, but it was in the manner of fondness reserved for those persons upon whose knees one was dandled as a child. To her, Lord Viccars was an avuncular figure. He was also her confidant.

“How glad I am to see you!” she cried as he stepped into the drawing room. “Because, if not precisely blue-deviled, I am beset by ennui! Christopher is off dispensing justice, and Sherris is deep in a fit of creativity that apparently leaves her with neither the time nor the ambition to enjoy her family’s company. Do sit down, Andrew! We do not stand on ceremony, you and I. How rude I am to run on like this! It is just that I have grown very weary of my own company. We have missed you these past days. Of course you will have been setting your affairs in order, and forgot about your old friends!”

Lord Viccars murmured noncommittally and conceded to his hostess’s request that he should take a chair. Lavinia thought he looked somewhat startled by her comments. She could hardly say outright that she knew his romantic doubts had been laid to rest because Sherry had requested a sum of money with which to purchase her bride clothes.

So very considerable was that sum that Lavinia concluded that her numerous comments about dowdiness had not fallen on barren soil. She wished she could feel a greater gladness that Sherris was at last to be comfortably bestowed. Unfortunately, Lavinia could not stifle a certain resentment. Unstylish, unfashionable Lady Sherry had somehow managed to ensnare one of the most eligible and elusive gentlemen in all of London.

A gentleman, indeed, who could generally be relied upon to divert one with the latest
on-dits.
Even that pleasure would soon be denied Lavinia. Sherris would be privileged to keep abreast of current gossip, for which she didn’t care, unlike Lavinia, who liked to keep in touch with what was happening in her world. She inquired of Lord Viccars whether it was true that the regent had acquired the services of Marie Antoine Careme, master of the uniquely French art of
haute cuisine.
Lord Viccars spoke briefly of the chef, who had learned his art in Napoleon’s kitchens, then related an amusing account of Princess Caroline, the regent’s estranged spouse, who was currently embarked on a pilgrimage through the Holy Land and had astounded the multitudes by entering Jerusalem astride an ass.

Lavinia made only perfunctory responses. She was wishing, very uncharitably, that her sister-in-law had never come to town. Now she must share Lord Viccars with Lady Sherry, as she already shared her husband and her household and even her dog. Prinny displayed a large fondness for the book room of late. Not that Lavinia wanted Prinny to dote on her similarly, but the beast had been a present from Sir Christopher to her, not to his sister, and therefore Lavinia could not help but feel that the hound owed her some respect. As did Aunt Tulliver and Daffodil. Principles were involved. In some obscure manner, Sherris was at fault for all of Lavinia’s discontent.

Lord Viccars was looking at her oddly. Lavinia supposed she’d failed to make an expected response. Perhaps Andrew might be persuaded to explain what it was about Sherris that had inspired him to toss the handkerchief in her direction after neatly sidestepping so many other matrimonial traps.

Had
Sherris set a trap for him? Lavinia realized she knew very little of her sister-in-law. She inquired whether his lordship would care to partake of some refreshment.

Lord Viccars was not in need of refreshment of the manner that Lady Childe would offer him, although a bumper of diabolino would not have come amiss. However, it was obvious that Lavinia had something on her mind. First she had talked his ear off, then subjected him to a silence so intense that she might altogether have forgotten his presence. Andrew could only conclude that Lavinia and Lady Sherry were again at odds. As he was the confidant of both, it was clearly his duty to try to pour oil on troubled waters. He agreed that he should enjoy a cup of tea.

Andrew was very quiet today. Perhaps he, too, was preoccupied with the contemplation of bride clothes. It made Lavinia very melancholy to think that she would be deprived of her dear friend. Of course Sherris would interfere with the friendship once the knot was tied. Certainly Lavinia would have in her place.

But the knot was not yet tied, and Lavinia would not be denied the comfort of his companionship so soon. Hoping to disarm him, she ventured a remark, and they spoke for some moments of the falling prices of iron and copper and the decline of other exports; of the unemployed colliers at Bilston Moor, the molders at Merthyr Tydfil, the Spitalfields silk-weavers, the Leicestershire stockingers, and the Nottinghamshire hosiers, all of whom were vociferous about their hunger and their discontent.

After a few moments of this conversation, both participants were understandably depressed. Lord Viccars attempted to lighten the atmosphere by inquiring whether Lavinia had read
Glenvaron.

“I most certainly have not!” Shocked by the suggestion that she might have read that singular libel published by Caro Lamb about her family and friends, Lavinia had recourse to her vinaigrette. “I doubt that anyone would read the wretched book except to assure themselves that they are not among the unfortunate beings caricatured within! What a shocking thing. But what else could one expect from a female who pursued Byron so shamelessly that she even disguised herself as his page?” The thought of Lord Byron, suspected of all manner of abominations including homosexuality and incest, caused Lavinia to apply once more to her vinaigrette. “I shudder to recall that I actually spoke with the man several times! He and Christopher belonged to the same club. Not that Christopher had anything to do with him after the awful truth came out.” Lavinia did not add that this rebuff had more to do with her wishes than with Sir Christopher’s. He had been inclined to view the matter as a tempest in a teapot.

A tempest in a teapot? It was a very good thing Lavinia wasn’t the sort of female who leaped to conclusions, or else she might start wondering if her husband’s affection for his own sister wasn’t suspect. Sir Christopher had actually inquired whether some unkindness on Lavinia’s part had caused Sherry’s withdrawal from family life. Unkindness! As if Lavinia hadn’t done everything humanly possible to make Sherry feel welcome in this house. “So you are to be felicitated?” she inquired.

Andrew stared blankly at his hostess. He had no notion of what she was speaking about. But he knew what he wished to speak to her about, and this seemed as good a moment in which to do so as the next. “You must not be so critical of Lady Sherry,” he said. “She means no harm. Remember that not everyone has had your advantages, puss! Though it hardly seems the thing, Sherry long had the managing of her own affairs and therefore it is difficult for her to play a subordinate role now. As for her eccentricities—well, we would hardly wish her to be in the common way.”

“Hah!” exclaimed Lavinia with righteous anger, thereby so startling Lord Viccars that he nearly spilled the contents of his teacup onto his superbly tailored lap. “I should say Sherris isn’t in the common way! Certainly she has proven herself capable of managing her own affairs. And I will say to you, Andrew, though I should not, that you must take care lest you discover that you are
not!”

Clearly, Lavinia was out of humor. Lord Viccars could not imagine why. Nor did he understand why she kept referring to his affairs. She had intimated earlier that they needed setting in order, he recalled. Andrew was not aware that his affairs were out of order. He wondered what she’d meant.

And then an explanation presented itself, almost causing him to drop his teacup for a second time. Could Lavinia have referred to Marguerite? A moment’s frantic reflection reassured him that Lavinia could not possibly know of his
petite amie.
And even if she had somehow learned of Marguerite’s existence, she would surely not be so unladylike as to mention it. Would she? Man of the world though he was, Andrew was startled that Lavinia’s loyalty to Sherris had prompted her to trespass thus the boundaries of good taste.

Lord Viccars did not wish to discuss the topic. He owed explanation to no one for the fact that he kept a high flyer for his amusement. After all, it was only human for a gentleman to wish to enjoy a bit of frolic every now and then.

Not that he had had much time to frolic these past few days. Andrew had not been seen in his usual haunts of late: not at Weston’s or Hoby’s or Locke’s, not in Brook’s Club or White’s, not inspecting horseflesh at Tattersall’s, not weighing himself on the great scales at Berry Brothers wine shop, and not disporting himself with the fair Marguerite. He had been inspecting quite a different part of town, of which he had hitherto been only peripherally aware: that part of London that lay beyond the boundaries of the polite world. Enlightening as these explorations had been, at the end of his investigations Andrew knew little more of Captain Toby than he had when he set out to run him to ground.

It was as if the highwayman had been whisked off the face of the earth. Perhaps Londoners were fond enough of Captain Toby that they’d told deliberate tarradiddles to those stalwart representatives of the law who’d set out in pursuit. Or perhaps the rogue had friends in high places who had tucked him away somewhere safe.

Still, Andrew would not despair just yet. He had come across one interesting bit of information: the highwayman’s doxy had possessed red hair. He thought of Marguerite and Lady Sherry and mused upon the determination of Dame Fortune to introduce red-headed females into his life.

This train of thought reminded Lord Viccars of the purpose of his visit. He wished to speak with Sir Christopher on a matter of grave importance. But first he asked, “Is Lady Sherry in?”

“Sherris, always Sherris!” Lavinia made a moue. “What is it that keeps her so constantly on everyone’s mind? You will make me think that my company does not content you, Andrew. I should not be surprised, I suppose! In answer to your question, I’m sure I don’t know whether Sherris is in or not. We’ve seen precious little of her since the day of the highwayman’s escape.”

Nor had Lord Viccars, now he thought of it. “Indeed.”

Did her companion look sympathetic? Lavinia was not convinced. She tried harder to rouse him to a sense of fellow feeling. “Yes, and where
was
Sherris the morning of the hanging? Her disappearance has still not been satisfactorily explained. You will discover that it is not easy to live with a writing person, Andrew. One must grow accustomed to being treated like a stick of furniture. Sherris spends hours in her book room, seldom even appearing for meals. If one could read what she is writing, it would be a different thing, but Sherris very selfishly refuses to share even with her family the product of her busy pen!”