Lucasta (7 page)

Viscount Kennington had heard much of Newgate but he had never expected to experience it for himself. Looking round his cell, he reflected ruefully that he had lived in worse lodgings. A deep purse ensured that he had a room to himself with modest comforts, although the smell of dirt and decay that permeated the building reminded him constantly of his surroundings. He had refused Gretton’s pleas to be allowed to accompany him, saying he could be of more use outside the walls than within, but as he prepared to face his second day in prison the idea of a prolonged incarceration was very daunting. He lay on the hard bed with his hands linked behind his head and watched the first grey fingers of dawn light creep into the room. It was too soon to despair: once the city was awake his lawyer would be at work again on his behalf, and Gretton would be returning shortly with a fresh change of clothes for him. He heard the faint tap, tap of footsteps in the stone corridor. Heeled shoes – a female. His mouth twisted. At this hour of the morning she would be leaving some prisoner’s cell and most likely a couple of guineas richer for her trouble. He was surprised therefore when the footsteps stopped outside his door. He sat up, frowning, as the keys rattled in the lock. The gaoler coughed
and spat before announcing, ‘Visitor for ‘ee.’

The door opened and a figure totally enveloped in a black cloak glided into the room. The viscount got to his feet,
staring
, but the figure did not move until the gaoler had retreated once more, then two small, gloved hands reached up and pushed back the hood of the cloak.

‘Lucasta!’ Lord Kennington stared at her. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’

She gave him a wobbly smile.

‘That is a very poor greeting, my lord.’

‘You should not be here.’

‘I had to come, as soon as I learned what had happened to you.’ She put out her hands to him. ‘Oh Adam, what is being done to help you?’

He took her hands and guided her to a chair – the only chair in the room – masking his own concerns in his efforts to reassure her.

‘Everything possible. You know I am not guilty, it is merely a matter of proving it.’ He spoke lightly, squeezing her fingers and releasing them as he resumed his seat on the edge of the bed. Her expression did not alter; her brown eyes were fixed upon him with a painful intensity.

‘The man who … died,’ she said slowly. ‘He was the one you quarrelled with at Bromsgrove?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you tell me what you know? I have heard nothing but rumours.’

‘Word did not take long to spread, then.’

She coloured slightly.

‘Yes. I am sorry.’

‘Nay, why should you be sorry? And is everyone ready to hang me?’ He gave a savage laugh. ‘But of course they are. They will all be willing to think the worst of me!’

‘Not everyone, Adam!’

‘No? Then tell me, does your family know you are here? No, I thought as much. And would they approve? Your face gives me my answer. I cannot blame them for that. It is folly for you to be here, Lucasta.’

Two spots of angry colour flamed on her cheeks.

‘It is not! I am as much involved in this as you, so I would very much appreciate you telling me what you are supposed to have done!’ She glared at him, such
determination
in her face that at last he uttered a soft laugh and nodded.

‘Very well, I will tell you what I know. When we left Bradfield at the Swan it would appear he continued to rail against me, and the landlord heard him say that he knew my direction and would come after me. He set off about an hour afterwards, with his valet beside him. Some time after this the valet was beating down the door of one of the farms that adjoins the northern edge of the common, saying they had been attacked by footpads.’

‘The same ones that attacked us!’

‘Possibly. Let me finish. The farmer and two of his farmhands accompanied the valet back to the carriage. Bradfield was lying on the ground beside it. He was dead. His dressing case had been forced open: the valet said that Bradfield had been carrying a valuable emerald necklace to Town. It would appear to have been stolen.’

‘A necklace! But—’

The viscount held up his hand. ‘Let me finish the whole, Lucasta. The magistrate was summoned and it seems he put some effort into his investigations. His enquiries eventually led him to the Pigeons. You will imagine how our presence there would look – Jacob injured and the description of a young man named Smith who has since vanished – at any
rate the magistrate thought it far too suspicious and came to London in search of me.’

‘But surely you explained to him that we had been set upon by footpads!’

‘Of course, but you will recall that at the time I declined to report the matter. Bradfield was found with a pistol in his hand: it had been fired, and the magistrate is convinced that it was this weapon that wounded Jacob.’ He shrugged. ‘It is assumed that following my quarrel with Bradfield, we waylaid him on the common, killed him and robbed him to make it appear the work of common thieves.’

‘Perhaps it was,’ said Lucasta. ‘Mayhap it was the same footpads that tried to rob us. If we could find them—’

‘And how do you propose to do that, will you go back to Hansford and ask everyone you meet if they are in the habit of robbing travellers?’

‘No of course not, but there must be ways.’ She frowned. The viscount was silent, watching her. It was no small comfort to know that her concern was all for him. At last she spoke again.

‘The other point that does not make sense is the necklace. It was in a dressing case, you say? I remember the valet carrying just such a case into the Swan. I thought at the time it must be very important for him to bestow so much attention on it. It was not a large item, so why would anyone break it open; why not take the whole case?’

‘That thought had occurred to me.’

Her brown eyes widened. ‘Unless the thief knew it was there! Adam – what if Bradfield was killed for the necklace?’

‘It is possible. I will put that to my lawyer when he comes in later today. He is trying to persuade them to grant me bail, then I shall be able to pursue my own enquiries.’

Lucasta twisted her hands together.

‘Adam, would it help if you told them that – that I was the young man?’

‘Not at all,’ he retorted. ‘In fact, it would complicate matters exceedingly.’

‘That is what Mama said when I suggested it.’ She sighed. ‘But I feel so helpless, knowing you are innocent and not being able to do anything about it.’

‘Knowing you can vouch for me is help enough for the present,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘At least your sister and mother need not doubt my innocence. Poor Camilla, how distraught she must be. Pray tell her – ah, but no one knows of your visit,’ He smothered a sigh and after a moment shook himself free of his depressing thoughts. ‘And no one must discover that you have been here, Luke.’ He rose and reached out to draw Lucasta to her feet. ‘Now, it is time you were gone: you are too careless of your reputation, Lucasta. But I
am
grateful for your coming here, never doubt that.’ He kissed her cheek before pulling her hood over her head. ‘Make sure you are not recognized leaving this place.’

He banged on the door, and a shuffling step was heard. He took a last look at the shrouded figure in front of him and was aware of a feeling of desolation. He put out his hand, as if to hold her, then let it fall again. With a slight inclination of the head, the hooded figure turned and left the room
without
another word.

The breath-catching nervousness did not leave Lucasta until she was safely in her room again. It was still early and she passed only an incurious lackey on her way through the house. She felt very tired, and slightly depressed; after all, what had she achieved? Adam had said there was little she could do to help him and her slender purse was empty: she had bribed her maid not to tell anyone of her absence, then there had been a similar inducement to the footman who accompanied her. An extra charge had to be agreed before the hackney carriage would wait for her outside the gaol and as for the rest, it had disappeared into the clutching fist of the turnkey: he had demanded payment for every door unlocked on the way to Adam’s cell. She glanced at the little bracket clock on the mantel, it was not yet nine: her mama and Camilla rarely left their rooms until ten so she had plenty of time to change into a morning gown and while she did so her thoughts drifted back over her visit to Newgate. Adam was convinced that she should not admit her
involvement
in the whole affair, but knowing he was innocent was not enough, she wanted to prove it. Remembering what he had told her, it seemed to Lucasta that the valet held the key to the matter. He must have seen the attackers and would be
able to explain to the magistrates that it could not have been Lord Kennington After all, there could be no disguising the viscount’s tall figure in its drab driving coat and fashionable beaver hat: no footpad would appear thus.

Another problem presented itself: how was she to contact the man? She could not approach him and there was no one in her mother’s household whom she would trust with the task. The problem occupied her thoughts for the rest of the day, causing Camilla to complain that her sister was no company at all.

‘You are very stupid and dull today, Lucasta,’ she cried petulantly. ‘I vow I am out of all patience with you: you will be a poor companion at the tea gardens today.’

‘Then perhaps it would be best if I did not come with you!’ retorted Lucasta, her frayed nerves giving way.

However, Mrs Symonds would not hear of her remaining behind and Lucasta was obliged to put on a smile with her new gown and to take her place in the party of pleasure.

With Sir Oswald remaining at Oakwoods, Lady Symonds was obliged to rely upon her friends whenever a male escort was required, but there was never any shortage of
gentlemen
willing to accompany the beautiful Camilla and on their visit to the tea gardens in Chelsea they were
accompanied
by two respectable young gentlemen whom Lady Symonds relied upon to maintain propriety. Lucasta was relieved to find that she was not expected to contribute much to the conversation since both the gentlemen were besotted with Camilla and she was able to lose herself in her own thoughts as they all strolled through the gardens. It was very early in the season but an exceptionally mild March day had brought out the crowds. At one particularly busy intersection of paths they found themselves jostled on all sides and Lucasta jumped when someone close behind
whispered her name.

‘A note for you.’

A calloused hand was holding out a screw of paper. She took it, glancing up at the figure as she did so, but the man was huddled inside a worn surcoat with muffler wound around his chin and his hat pulled low over his eyes,
effectively
disguising him.

All Lucasta’s conjecture and curiosity had to be contained until she could drop behind her party. Then, while Mrs Symonds and Camilla laughed and joked with their escorts, she unfolded the paper. It contained a short message,
written
in an untidy, ill-formed hand. Lucasta read it and stopped in surprise. Crumpling the paper in her hand she looked around quickly, fearful that she was being observed, but nothing had changed, the two gentlemen were gallantly vying for Camilla’s attention while her mother looked on fondly. Lucasta put a hand on her mother’s shoulder and murmured her excuse.

‘No, do not come with me, Mama,’ she added. ‘I shall not go far, and it is more important that you prevent Camilla’s swains from behaving far too free.’

She could not have chosen a better reason for Mrs Symonds to remain with the main party: Camilla might laugh and flirt with her escorts but her mama must make sure there was no hint of impropriety. Smiling to herself, Lucasta slipped away. Within moments of taking a quieter path she heard a voice close behind her.

‘There’s an empty arbour to your right, miss.’

She turned without hesitation and stepped into the leafy shelter. The figure huddled in the surcoat followed her. Lucasta stared at him, her head on one side and a
questioning
look in her eyes until the figure lifted his chin free of the muffler. She nodded.

‘As I thought. Jacob Potts.’

The groom grinned.

‘I didn’t think there’d be any fooling you, miss.’

‘If nothing else your limp would give you away,’ she replied. ‘How is your leg now, Jacob?’

‘Improving, miss, but it gets a bit painful if I walks too much. I might have stayed with her hrace if the law hadn’t been on my tail.’

Oh heavens!’ Lucasta sank down onto the bench and put one nervous hand to her throat. Jacob gave a grim little smile.

‘Aye, came to arrest me, they did. The magistrate turned up, snoopin’ around, but her grace gave ’im short shrift, soon sent ’em all packing. But I didn’t want her grace to get into trouble so I ups and comes to London.’

‘But surely it is even more dangerous for you to be here.’

‘Oh I haven’t been to Wardour Street, nor to the stables neither, knowing that they was waiting to clap me up. But I remembered your direction, miss, and I have been waiting outside since dawn, waitin’ for a chance to talk with you.’

‘But you could not have followed me here on foot.’

‘No, miss, I had to take a hackney carriage.’

She reached for her reticule.

‘Then you must let me reimburse you …’

He quickly put out his hand, saying in a shocked voice, ‘It ain’t come to that yet, miss, that I can’t pay me own way.’

He sounded so fierce that she immediately closed her reticule. Remembering the state of her own finances, she could not help feeling slightly relieved. He continued slowly, ‘I was thinking, miss, that since my lord was so wondrous great with Miss Camilla, he might have sent a message to her, saying how he goes on?’

‘No. At least, if he has done so I have not heard of it.’ She
paused. ‘However, I – um – I saw Lord Kennington this morning.’

‘You never did! But he’s in Newgate!’

She coloured.

‘Yes. I bribed the gaoler to let me in. I cannot tell you very much, only that Lord Kennington seemed well and was expecting his lawyer to arrange bail for him very soon.’

‘Well he hasn’t managed it yet,’ growled Potts. He tapped his nose. ‘Just cos I haven’t visited Wardour Street doesn’t mean I ain’t in touch with Gretton, and the word from him late this morning was that me lord is still clapped up and like to remain so.’

Lucasta sighed.

‘Oh Jacob, we must do something!’

‘Aye, but what?’

For a while they were silent, watching the crowds strolling past in the warm spring sunshine. At last Lucasta nodded.

‘I think it is the valet who holds the key to this.’ She sat up, suddenly resolute. ‘We must find him and talk to him; make him see that somehow the magistrate has been misled into thinking the viscount is guilty. If he would but talk to the authorities again then all would be well.’

‘Then I’ll find him. miss. Do you happen to know his name?’

She frowned.

‘I know I heard it … it was very like weasel…. Miesel. That was it, Miesel. Can you find him Jacob, and talk to him?’

‘Aye. I’ll get on it now.’

She raised her brows.

‘Now? But the day is almost done …’

Jacob grinned.

‘It never is. While your sort is enjoying yourselves at balls and parties and the like, the rest of us will be in the taverns dining on good ale and oysters!’

She laughed.

‘Very well, then. But how will you find him?’

‘Well, Sir Talbot was used to stable his cattle in the same mews as me lord, so that will be a start.’