Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) (5 page)

Quickly Agatha pulled the book out from under her arm and laid it on the table. Opening it with two hands, she smoothed her hand down the page and, pointing at the start of the chapter, slid the book under Victoria’s nose.

Victoria swallowed visibly. “Yes. Aha. Mrs. Noggin. It is good to see you after such a long time.”

“Oh yes my lady,” Mrs. Noggin sank back with visible relief into her chair. “The last time I saw you was when you had your coming out ball. Gosh what a sight you were.”

“That was three years ago.”

“Aye. A bonny fifteen year old you were. So lively. We all watched from below stairs as you walked out on your father’s arm.”

Agatha poured some hot water from the kettle into a cup and slid it across to Mrs. Noggin so that her arm obstructed her view. Looking back over her shoulder, she checked on Victoria. She sat as still as a statue, frozen to her chair.

“Mrs. Noggin. We were wondering if you might help us. Oh dear.” As Agatha pushed the cup, it tilted slightly on a dent in the table and splashed hot water across the wooden top. “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Noggin.”

Victoria jumped out of her seat and hurried to a rail of cloths that hung by the sink. Pulling down a towel, she patted at the table. “Mrs. Noggin, we were wondering if you might provide us with some items.”

“Anything for you, Miss Victoria.” The sight of Victoria clearing up in front of the cook was obviously too much.

“We need. Ah,” Victoria fumbled with the book, “isinglass and wine.” She stared at Agatha.

Agatha licked her lips. “I’m going show you how my boots were made waterproof.”

Victoria sank back into her chair. “I think I need another cup of tea. How on earth is that relevant to wine and isin… isin.”

“Isinglass,” Mrs. Noggin said unexpectedly.

“I’m not sure what mixing glass with wine will do.” Victoria frowned.

The cook laughed. “It’s not glass. It’s dried cod. Swimbladder of cod that is. We use it to make that Solomon flummery jelly you like so much.” Pushing her chair back, Mrs. Noggin pulled a jar of irregularly shaped white leaves from the shelf and felt under the counter, pulling out a bottle of wine. “Here, Mister Henry didn’t finish this last night. I was going to throw it out.”

Victoria had turned a very pale pink. “There is fish in my favorite dessert?”

“It doesn’t taste of fish, does it?” Agatha ran her finger down the page of the book. “Aha.” Uncorking the bottle of wine, Agatha poured a large amount into a glass. “Please could you melt some of the isinglass for me, Mrs. Noggin?”

“Of course I can. I’m very interested to see what you are going to do next.”

“As am I,” Victoria murmured.

Taking the copper boiling pot of melted isinglass from Mrs. Noggin, Agatha poured the gelatinous material into the wine glass. Immediately a thick muddy precipitate fell to the bottom.

Victoria lowered her head level with the table and stared at the glass. “I thought you were going to do something spectacular.”

Agatha glanced at the precipitate and laughed. At last, an experiment that had turned out
right
. “I did.”

Victoria thrust her elbows on the table. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with your boots.”

Agatha picked up the glass and held it to the light. “Most wines contain a substance called tannin.”

“Hmm. That’s what Henry says gives him the headache after he’s drunk the wine.” Victoria withdrew her elbows from the table. “Tannin, has this anything to do with tanning leather?”

Agatha smiled. “Exactly. In the book Mrs. B. says that Tannin is used in the making of leather. Animal hides are soaked in a solution of water and tannin made from bark. It turns them into a leather that provides a strong impermeability to water.”

“But why the isinglass?”

“The isinglass is acting like the animal skin. The isinglass has precipitated the tannin from the wine to form an insoluble compound… something that is impervious to water.”

Victoria frowned and poked at the glass. “I can’t wear that.”

“Animal skin contains a similar substance to the isinglass. It mixes with the tannin, turning the skin into leather which is waterproof.”

Mrs. Noggin sat back from the table. “Well I never. I’m not sure I understood half those words that you used. But I do wonder what Mister Henry’s stomach looks like after drinking all that red wine if that is the case.”

“Exactly what Caroline says in the book.” Agatha snapped the book closed and drew her chair away from the table.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Victoria took the glass to the sink and poured the contents down the drain. “He only drinks when he’s upset. After he’s eaten of course.” Picking up the bottle of wine, she turned it round to see the label.
Chateauneuf du Pape 1780.
“Oh dear. We had better go and perform more experiments elsewhere.”

Agatha glanced at the bottle. “I thought Mrs. Noggin said he didn’t like it.”

Victoria pulled at her arm with tense fingers. “It’s not a case of not liking it,” she whispered, nodding a goodbye to the smiling Mrs. Noggin. “More, that one doesn’t drink Chateauneuf du Pape very often as it is so expensive. That bottle is from the last of the wine my father bought.”

CHAPTER 6

Henry stared over the breakfast table at the unusual sight in front of him. It was not the fact kippers had been banished from the sideboard that bothered him, in fact he hadn’t eaten any fish for several weeks. Nor was it the excessive way in which salt from the salt cellar was disappearing unexpectedly.

It was the sight of Victoria laughing. Laughing without a care in the world to be precise. Slowly his eyes tracked across to Agatha, who leant on the table, examining her bacon and eggs with a magnifying glass.

“Just what—” Henry took a deep breath. “What are you looking at, Agatha?”

“She’s examining the bacon and eggs flummery that Mrs. Noggin sent up.” Victoria giggled. “Mrs. Noggin is protesting against my ban on fish products in our food. She’s sent up bacon and eggs for Agatha on a bed of spinach made of green jelly.”

“Good god. That doesn’t have fish in it.”

Victoria nodded earnestly. “Yes it does. The spinach jelly is made of isinglass, a fish’s swim bladder.”

“Oh.” Henry blinked. “I’m surprised at Mrs. Noggin. I had to reprimand her for spilling some of that wine that Papa brought back.”

“Ah, about that.” Victoria hung her head.

Henry wanted to take the words back. Immediately the smile had been wiped from her face, and the light in her eyes extinguished.

Agatha dropped her magnifying glass to the table with a clatter and laid a hand on her arm. “It’s not her fault.” She gazed at him and narrowed her eyes. “We were conducting an experiment.”

“An experiment?” Henry took in a breath. “You conducted an experiment with priceless wine?”

“We didn’t know it was priceless at the time.”

“Well you should have done.”

Victoria stood. “Henry, you are overreacting. Come, Agatha. Let us enjoy Mrs. B. elsewhere.”

Mrs. B.? Who the hell was Mrs. B.?

Marching with a straight back, Victoria pushed Agatha out of the room. Falling back on his chair, Henry winced. Years he’d worked at amusing Victoria, trying to draw her out of her black moods, and within just a couple of months Agatha had transformed her.

“Do you think Miss Aggie will be finishing her bacon and egg flummery, sir?”

Henry sat up with a start. “Oh dear. Ames.” He nodded at shadowy footman who held Agatha’s plate in his hand. “You had better be sure neither Victoria nor Agatha see you. Since Agatha’s turned up, both girls are too sharp for their own good.”

His valet nodded. “They nearly caught me in the kitchen, sir, talking to Mrs. Noggin. I waited outside and listened in to their conversation. They were conducting an experiment to demonstrate tanning leather. It was Mrs. Noggin that gave them the wine.”

So Agatha had protected both Victoria and Mrs. Noggin with her comments. But still… “Who is Mrs. B.?”

“As far as I understand sir, she’s the teacher in that book you gave Miss Victoria.”

Good grief, so this recent episode was his fault.

“Err, do you know what experiment they are going to try next?”

“No my lord. I believe they have already tried churning milk to make butter, or oxygenated oil as Miss Aggie called it. Very nice it was too, on a scone.”

Henry drew a tired hand across his forehead. “And?”

“Hmm. There have been quite a few interesting ones. Creating chalk from some lime water Mrs. Noggin found was one the household was quite interested in.”

So that was where his medicine for an upset stomach had gone.

“Drinking remarkable quantities of whey prepared with lemon juice and white wine to see which one created most perspiration…”

“Hell in a handbasket! You only take that if you have a cold.”

“The white wine whey worked better apparently, although both girls were quite ill afterwards.”

“Agatha told me she had the flu!”

Ames coughed and swung the plate of flummery to the door. “I had better take this downstairs, sir. Mrs. Noggin will be disappointed it hasn’t been eaten. She’s been ever so proud of Miss Victoria’s recovery in spirits.”

Henry gripped at his fork, pushing the metal prongs into the table cloth. “Will you be there at Lord Colthaven’s ball tonight, Ames?”

“Of course sir. One of the footmen said that Lord Colthaven has been interested in finding something recently but won’t name what it is.”

Henry looked up sharply. “Perhaps it is the same as what Father was looking for.”

Ames nodded and closed the door behind him.

Lord Colthaven’s ball was a medium sized affair. Neither Agatha nor Victoria would look at him as he handed them out of the carriage. Immediately Victoria was thronged with admirers. The cheerful change in her countenance combined with her beauty obviously held a dangerous allure for all the bucks of the ton. Henry shoved a hand inside his coat and grasped lightly at his watch. He’d already been approached by several men asking for her hand. The most insistent of which was Lord Colchester. He hadn’t told Victoria yet.

He straightened as he watched the crowd. Little by little Agatha had been buffeted to the edges. Despite the glint of the candles on the auburn tints in her hair, the peach dress that she wore would have looked better on Victoria; in the half-light it appeared brown and dull. He tensed as her shoulders slumped slightly, and she pulled her wrap more firmly around herself.

“Miss Beauregard,” he said quietly.

She turned, a small flush of pleasure ran through him as her direct gaze met his. But then she glanced behind him and a smile spread across her face. A sharp elbow pushed him out of the way.

“Oh terribly sorry, Anglethorpe. Didn’t see you there. Wanted to say hello to Miss Beauregard.” The owner of the sharp elbow clapped a hand on his shoulder and then turned away.

“Not to worry, Fashington.” Henry stared at the back of the man as he slid away to join Agatha. Charles Fashington was a regular at Hartley Place, in fact more than a regular; he was always in to see Lord Granwich, and yet Granwich hardly ever referred to him.

Henry frowned as the man produced a small oval item from his pocket and Agatha laughed. She pushed the object into her skirts and looked up at him with
adoration
. Clenching his fingers, Henry strode away. There was always something a little
off
about Charles.

He couldn’t settle at the card tables, nor pick up any of the information that was being told from one table to the next. He didn’t seem to be able to process it, Agatha’s heart shaped face staring out at him knowingly from each card in his hand.

A shadow fell across his hand and broke his concentration. “More champagne, sir?”

Henry dropped the cards on the canasta table. “Deal me out please.” Nodding at the other players, he stepped away from the table and took the champagne that the footman was offering.

“I can’t find my contact, sir. He seems to have disappeared.” Ames stared at him from below an artfully arranged wig, his salt and pepper hair now covered with deep mahogany strands.

Henry shook his head. “I didn’t have high hopes anyway.” He stared across the card tables back into the ballroom. The laughing couples danced around the floor without a care in the world. Victoria swept by in the arms of a young soldier. Lifting his chin, he couldn’t see Agatha in the dancing crowd.

“Where is Miss Beauregard?”

“I believe she is sitting at the edge of the ballroom, sir. She is demonstrating something to Mr. Fashington.”

“What the hell?”

“Oh yes. Miss Aggie has quite the scientific following, my lord.”

“Following?”

“The ton is divided into those that find her simple demonstrations amusing and those that deem them a little too outrageous.”

“Outrageous?” Henry drained his champagne glass and nodded at Ames as the bubbles irritated his throat. “We need to nip this in the bud before she, they become a laughing stock. Do you know what Fashington gave to Miss. Aggie earlier?”

“No.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out.” Settling his glass back onto Ames’ tray, Henry skirted the edge of the card room, hesitating at the entrance to the ballroom. Over the tops of the dancers he could just see Agatha’s bent head, her finger jabbing in the air animatedly. He took a step forward.

“Lord Anglethorpe! How lovely to see you. Have you met my daughter…?”

“Angelina is most desirous to make your acquaintance your lordship, she has always…”

Shaking his head, Henry took another step forward and almost fell to the floor. The small foot of a matron withdrew itself neatly back under her skirts. “I beg your pardon, Lord Anglethorpe… have you met…?”

“No I haven’t,” he said curtly. “If you will excuse me, I have something to deal with.”
      “Miss Beauregard you mean.” The matron glowered, patting her daughter’s hand. “My Angelina would never do…”

“Excuse me.” This was why he never entered a ballroom. That and the aching memories of his mother gliding through the throng, a happy smile on her face as she pulled his father out of the card rooms.
Dance with me, Henry
she would say,
your father will be a while yet.