Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran) (29 page)

Perhaps she’d ask Perry about Sappho. Every time she thought about their reconnection, she couldn’t help but smile.

By the day before departure, she still hadn’t decided whether to tell Perry about the child. She wasn’t even sure. Common knowledge said that women with child vomited, especially in the morning, but she hadn’t. Folklore said that cats acted strangely around pregnant women, but Yatta was his arrogant self.

She summoned Mistress Eavesham and asked if there was a local midwife.

The woman’s glance was sharp, but she answered. “Yes, ma’am. Becky Green in the village. She lives in a cottage hard by the Perriam Arms. She has an excellent reputation.”

Claris walked there, upset by the housekeeper’s reaction. Did she, like Athena, think babies too much trouble?

Mistress Green was gray and stooped, but her eyes were sharp. She accepted Claris’s gift of tea but turned grim when asked for advice. She asked a number of questions and then said, “Aye, ma’am, it’s likely you’re carrying. If you miss another bleeding, you can be sure.”

“Is there anything I should do?”

“Do?”

“To ensure a healthy child.”

“No one can ensure that, ma’am. It’s in God’s hands.”

Claris didn’t care for the surly tone, so she left, thinking she might seek another midwife when her time came. On her way home, however, she came to a possible understanding.

When she summoned the housekeeper again and asked, “Did Giles Perriam’s wives use Mistress Green for their deliveries?”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s the only midwife locally.”

“Does she also tend to the dead?”

“When called upon, ma’am.”

Claris sat for a moment in thought, and then went out to the smothered babes. Becky Green would have delivered all five and also laid out their corpses.

The second wife might have asked for the midwife’s advice on her lack of a child.

The poor third . . .

Mistress Green had spoken grimly of God’s will because she feared more tragedies for a Perriam wife. Perhaps everyone here did. That could be why they were reserved, why Mistress Eavesham had seemed upset to be asked about a midwife.

Some of the servants could have been here when these children died, one after another over a short period of time. When these eerie memorials had been created and installed. Most of them would have known the poor third wife, haunting the ivy-shrouded house even while alive.

“We’ve killed the curse,” Claris said, as if arguing with the infants. “My child won’t end up here.”

She turned and hurried away. Even if something happened to her child, she would never add to the marble ghosts.

Nothing would happen to her child.

Why should it?

She wished it were a brighter day. Brilliant sunshine would burn away shadowy fears, but the sky hung low and gray and a touch of mist veiled the distant trees.

If there had been a true curse, Aunt Clarrie should have been appeased by her marriage.

Yet that curse, the one Perry had brought to her at Lavender Cottage, had been intended to last for generations, and it had contained nothing about a way to end it. The solution had been her mother’s device, created solely in an attempt to marry her daughter to Giles Perriam.

Why should her mother know anything of curses and their removal?

But then, why should Aunt Clarrie?

Perhaps they’d both been ardent members of a coven of witches.

She entered the house wishing she knew more about her mother’s and aunt’s origins and early lives. Her mother had mentioned growing up near London, and that her grandfather Dunsworth had been a timber merchant for the shipping trade. Perhaps she could find out more about her mother’s younger life during their visit. But where near London had they lived?

She remembered something and asked the footman where her brothers were.

“Out with Mr. Lovell, ma’am.”

Good. She hurried upstairs and went to the boys’ room. She didn’t have to search, for her father’s leather-bound Bible sat on the mantelpiece. It was quite large, so she took it to the side table before opening it to the early page. As she’d remembered, he’d recorded life events there, as many did.

He’d written down the date and location of his marriage to Eleanora Anne Dunsworth. As she’d hoped, he’d noted her mother’s prior residence.
“Of Wellsted, near Deptford.”

A gazetteer in the library told her Deptford was on the Thames near London. If she could go there, she might discover that her mother and aunt had been thoroughly conventional Christian ladies. Then she’d know Aunt Clarrie could never have cast a true curse, and she’d have nothing to fear for her baby.

She put her hand low on her belly.

She must prove that curse to be merely the spewing of a deranged mind.

T
hey set off fo
r Town in grand style.

They required two carriages, which had been hired for the whole journey, along with four horses each. The distance was only twenty miles and the road was said to be good, so they should arrive within four hours.

They were to stay in a house. She’d remembered the Fox’s comment that Perry lived in a bachelor building, so she’d asked him to recommend an inn. He’d written back to say that he’d hired a house for them for a week.

That was the period she’d specified, and she hoped she could survive that long. She looked forward to seeing him, but everything else worried her. Town would be full of perils, including people like the Fox, and she wouldn’t know how to go on, especially if Perry wasn’t by her side.

He’d hired a house but not said he’d live there with them.

Surely he must, but he had a home elsewhere.

He’d promised to supervise the twins’ introduction to London but also warned he’d have to leave much of it to Lovell. He’d also warned he wouldn’t be able to attend her as much as he’d wish.

She would not feel unwanted, she told herself as her carriage rolled through the village, watched by the villagers.

She was traveling in the first coach with Athena and Alice, while the twins traveled in the second with Lovell and Ellie. That allowed her, Athena, and Ellie forward-facing seats, and Ellie seemed to genuinely enjoy the twins’ company.

The twins were torn between the excitement of London, including the wild beasts at the Tower, and the misery of missing their ponies.

Claris put a hand on her front, for it truly felt as if butterflies were rioting in there.

“I hope you’re not going to be carriage sick,” Athena said.

“Of course not. My busk is a little uncomfortable.”

“I told you to wear a simpler gown for travel.”

“You were right, but I want to make a good impression.”

Especially if Perry is waiting at the house to greet us.

Her gown was a brown-striped one from Genova, made grander with trimmings rescued from the trunk of finery. It now had an embroidered stomacher above the waist and she was wearing her ivory petticoat below—her wedding one, but now stripped of the pink bows. Her cap was a ridiculous froth of lace topped by a small brown hat trimmed with gold braid.

When Parminter had heard of the visit to London, he’d informed her that there was some jewelry locked away. All three wives had willed most of their jewels to family, friends, and faithful servants, but some was left. Claris had expressed her displeasure at not being told before, but she’d enjoyed going through the treasure trove, and now Alice had charge of a box that contained more than trinkets.

She was as ready as possible to face both Town and Foxes.

On arrival in Goodwin Street, she climbed out of the carriage, surprised. She’d assumed a house would be a house—that was, separate from others, like the rectory. This one was tall, narrow, and part of a row of identical houses.

“Don’t gawk,” Athena said, pushing her toward the single step and the glossy black door that was already being opened.

Claris pulled herself together and went in, to find a very narrow hall with a room to the right and a staircase to the left. Was this all Perry thought her worthy of? It was clean, she allowed, and quite handsomely furnished, but it was so narrow, as if squeezed by the houses on either side.

And where was he?

A black-gowned woman was curtsying. “Welcome, ma’am. I’m Mistress Crowbury, your housekeeper. Mr. Perriam left a letter for you.”

Claris took it and broke the seal, hoping no one could see her trembling hand. He couldn’t even be bothered to greet her? That clear but elegant writing again, but in this case used in greater haste, so the lines wandered a little upward.

My dear, my humblest apologies, but I am called away by imperative duty. I believe all is in order for your comfort and I will attend you at the earliest possible moment.

“Earliest possible” could be next week!

Very well, if that was how it was to be.

“May I take you to your room, ma’am?” the housekeeper asked.

Claris said she could, then made her way up the narrow stairs, her skirts brushing either side. The stairs wound up another level, but her room was on the first floor they reached, and at the back of the house. Was that another insult?

It was small, but her spirits rose a little when she saw clear evidence of male occupation. Perry was living here and using this room! A small house had advantages if it meant that husband and wife shared the same room and the same bed.

“Charming,” she said to the housekeeper, and meant it.

She allowed that this room, too, was quite handsomely furnished, even including a thick carpet that covered most of the floor.

“The drawing room is at the front on this floor ma’am,” Mistress Crowbury said. “If you and your family would wish for tea, it could be served there, or a simple dinner is available should you want that.”

“Dinner, thank you. Can it be ready in half an hour?”

“Certainly, ma’am.” The housekeeper curtsied and left.

A manservant came in carrying her trunk, followed by Alice, who set to unpacking it. Claris took off her silly hat with a sigh. Traveling in finery had been a wasted effort.

All very well to rejoice in Perry’s hairbrush on the dressing table, and a pair of his boots standing by the fireplace, but was his work truly so urgent? Or had he grasped an excuse not to be here? Fretting about that served no purpose, so she went to check on the other accommodations.

Athena and Ellie had the second bedchamber on this floor, and it was as well furnished as her own. The twins and Mr. Lovell had two rooms on the next one. Lovell was to valet the boys when necessary. Above that was an attic floor, where apparently the female servants slept. The one male servant slept in the basement, which also held the kitchens and accommodation for Mistress Crowbury, who was both cook and housekeeper.

All was provided for, but such a tall, narrow house still astonished her.

While waiting for the meal, she went to inspect the drawing room. It stretched the width of the house, with two windows that looked out onto the street. The walls were painted a pale green and trimmed with white panels and cornice. A settee and three chairs were upholstered in straw-colored brocade, and the wood was a pale golden color.

“A fine town house,” Athena said, entering. “Perriam has done well.”

“It seems quite small, and in a row of many.”

“Few have mansions anymore, child, and terraces are the latest style. Land is expensive in the fashionable parts of Town.”

“Very well, but it feels cramped after the manor. It’s almost as confined as Lavender Cottage.”

“Don’t be foolish. This is completely appropriate, and when in Town, who wishes to stay at home? The wonders of the world are all around you!”

“All I saw around me was more terraces,” Claris retorted, but then she smiled. “I’ll complain no more. I can’t wait to see the parks, and the Queen’s House, not to mention Westminster Abbey.”

“And the Tower,” said Peter as the twins came in, shepherded by Lovell. “They have an execution block there still stained with blood.”

Claris rolled her eyes at them. She’d sent for a guide book to London and they’d been poring over it. She’d noted a few things to be avoided, including executions and the madhouse called Bedlam.

“Where’s Perry?” Peter asked. “You said he’d be here.”

“He was called away. He promises to return soon.” Remembering the wording, she added, “If he can. You know he has many obligations.”

“He can’t be busy all the time,” Peter said. “I want to tell him about that trout I caught.”

“And about the way Pollux takes the jumps now,” Tom said.

“He won’t be busy all the time,” Claris said, praying it was true. “We’re to eat soon. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

That could always be guaranteed to distract them, and they were soon happily tucking into their dinner.

Claris could honestly compliment Mistress Crowbury, for it was a tasty meal well chosen to be ready whenever they arrived. There was an excellent soup along with cold pies and the sorts of vegetable dishes that could be quickly heated. For dessert, they had fruit tarts and custard.

She took her tea afterward, determined to be in good humor with her husband over the arrangements he’d made for them.

When he returned to be thanked.

*  *  *

Perry was wearing scruffy clothing as disguise, because today he was following Pierrepoint himself. They’d triggered action by giving Pierrepoint access to significant, though spurious, financial records. He’d taken the bait and stolen them to copy, so Perry hoped he was now on his way to pass on the document.

Pierrepoint was a damned traitor, but Perry felt pity as he watched the man hesitate yet again, and even turn back as if to give up his purpose. Even though that would ruin the plan, Perry hoped he would. Alas, he reversed and continued on his way.

Cyn was also following. He didn’t need a disguise as Pierrepoint didn’t know him well, so he was strolling along at a distance, accompanied by a trusted fellow officer. They both seemed absorbed in their conversation. There were enough people of all stations going about their business to mask their purpose.

But where was Pierrepoint going?

Too much to hope that he’d take them to the French ambassador’s residence, and they weren’t going in that direction.

The next best result would be a meeting with one of Guerchy’s known minions. If he met with an unknown party, they’d have to decide whether to arrest both and take them for questioning. That would reveal that the espionage was known, and if the contact didn’t provide the link to Guerchy, all chance would be gone.

Perry wondered why Pierrepoint had been chosen for this task. His nervous, shifty manner must have even idle passersby wondering what he was up to.
Look at him now, at a halt, eyes sliding furtively in search of . . . what?
Perry was sure he didn’t know he was being followed. Whatever the fear, Pierrepoint almost ran into the Merry Maid Tavern.

Perry followed, not hurrying enough to attract attention. By the time he arrived at the door, Cyn was with him, his friend having taken his leave. They entered together, but inside, halted.

“It’s a molly house,” Perry said quietly, recalculating everything.

This room looked like any tavern, and men were sitting at tables drinking. The barmaids, however, were also men—in women’s clothing. Some made an attempt to look feminine, but others didn’t bother. One had a beard.

One of them came over, frankly ogling Cyn. “Welcome, gentlemen. You want a room?”

“Perhaps,” Cyn said. “I thought I saw a particular naval friend of mine enter.”

“He’s in a private meeting, sir, but perhaps if you wait?”

Cyn pouted. “Missed my chance, have I? I wanted my friend here to meet him. I’ll arrange another time.”

As they left, Perry muttered, “Damnation.”

“Indeed. A clever way to arrange a meeting, though.”

“Unless Pierrepoint really is a molly boy. That could be reason enough for his nervousness when he could hang for it.”

“A point, but I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you remember at the card party,” Cyn said, “when he was too drunk to sit straight? He started up a bawdy song that was definitely all about the charms of a woman. I doubt he has the wits to put that on, and he was too drunk to try.”

“
In vino veritas.
We’ll watch to see who leaves and pray Pierrepoint leaves with someone, but I should go to my wife. Can you observe for a while? I’ll send substitutes.”

Cyn agreed and Perry hurried off.

He would have liked to go directly to Goodwin Street, but to present himself in these clothes would lead to questions. He’d go to the Lyceum first, re-create himself in good order, and send a message to Rothgar about watching the Merry Maid. He had people skilled at such work.

As Auguste produced washing water and fresh clothing, Perry flipped through the day’s delivery of post. He saw nothing of interest until his father’s seal caught his eye. He snapped it and unfolded the sheet, braced for trouble. No, a blessing instead. His parents were off to Paris and Versailles, but Perry was to continue to press the canal matter in his absence.

His father could whistle for that, but at least his parents wouldn’t turn up on Claris’s doorstep to inspect her. More important, they wouldn’t reveal the terms of the new will.

He’d have to tell her himself, but not yet.