“My dear woman, parties such as these are unutterably dull and the people who attend them often the same. Not a soul that you see here would not rather be in their own bed, or clubs, or amusements but they come because it is done and they follow like sheep. They may be gilded and bejeweled but they are sheep! Look of the conduct of this ridiculous war and you will see there are hardly enough competent men of rank to govern the country. We would be better off as a nation if we fed the whole pack of them to the mob. Do not be so cotton headed as to be intimidated by unearned wealth!”
Harriet was touched and a little surprised to watch him become heated. It was as if Crowther had put on a new being with his evening dress.
“Crowther! You are a revolutionary.”
He glanced outside as the carriage jogged along the roadway. The streets in this part of Town were quiet tonight. Those who lived here moved by carriage or chair in the evenings or kept to their beds.
“I will not have you think poorly of yourself in front of such braying puppets as these, or so low a creature as Carmichael,” he said. “There are dogs in St. Giles with better morals and more honor.”
Jocasta set Sam down in the chophouse, making sure she had caught the proprietor’s eye so there would be no fuss about it, and marched fast as she might up St. Martin’s Lane till she came to the alleyway into her own yard.
“All right, Mrs. Bligh?”
Her wrinkled old landlord pulled his threadbare coat around him and looked up at her. He was perched on a stool in the entrance to his own place.
“How do, Hopps? Anyone been asking for me today?”
“Couple of your usual girlies turned up and peered through your window, looked mournful and headed off again. You give up working?”
“Never you mind.”
“But I have an inkling you are asking if anyone unusual came a-calling, ain’t you, lady?”
Jocasta nodded.
“Tall fella. Didn’t like him. He wanted to know if you’d been about and gave me two shillings to keep an eye out and tell him your movements, if any, when he returned in the morning. That more the thing you asking, dear?”
“More like. And what will you say to him when he comes back?”
“That I, nor no one else here, has seen any sight of you. If that’s your liking.”
“Thank you, Hopps.”
“Not a matter of thanking or not thanking, dearie. I didn’t like the man. Never could abide foreigners.”
He spat on the ground and Jocasta returned to the chophouse, the back of her neck tickling and prickling so bad she thought the devil was teasing at it.
It was certainly a good thing that Crowther had put some steel into Harriet’s spine. The level of conversation in the long drawing room of Lord Carmichael’s house dropped perceptibly when they were announced, and many of its occupants, gorgeous in silks and shining in the candlelight with more jewels than Harriet had seen on the necks of maharajahs, turned to stare at them both quite openly. A voice to Harriet’s right spoke deliberately clearly, each syllable sounding like a champagne glass being broken with a tiny ivory hammer.
“I thought the eunuch was to be the curiosity of the evening. Lord Carmichael has outdone himself.”
Harriet turned to find herself staring into the cool gray eyes of a handsome woman of her own age. Her hair was dressed very high and heavily powdered. A spray of diamonds over her right ear caught the glare of the chandeliers and danced it back every color of the rainbow. It was a jewel that could have bought Caveley twice over. Harriet nodded very slightly to her, and received a vicious little twist of a smile in return.
“Mrs. Westerman! An absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance!” She looked around to see a gentleman of late middle age with a long chin and deeply hooded eyes come barreling toward her and stopping with a bow.
“I am Sandwich, you know.” She made her curtsy and when she raised her head again, John Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich and First Lord of the Admiralty, took her hand and placed it on his arm. He then announced to the room at large: “This lady’s husband is the Captain Westerman who took the Marquis de La Fayette in the spring, you know. A remarkable prize.” There was a scattering of applause. Then, turning back to her, “Now let us find somewhere more comfortable and have a proper conversation about things of significance, such as your husband’s improving health-and I wish to know your opinion on a number of matters I have on my desk at the Admiralty. Lady Sybil there,” he nodded toward the woman with the diamond spray, “has been driving me half-silly with her thoughts on the latest marvels at His Majesty’s and everyone in this room knows she can’t tell Handel from the wheezings of a hurdy-gurdy.” There was a little light laughter around them and Lady Sybil went rather red under her powder. “And you are Mr. Crowther, of course. We shan’t bore you with naval talk, sir, but you will find Sir William Fontaine in the card room. He has been telling us of your recent paper at the Royal Society and is eager to ask you more.”
The gentlemen made their bows, and Harriet prepared to be carried off by Lord Sandwich.
Off Bedford Street and late in the day. The stink of filth was choking as they turned into one of the nameless overbuilt yards. Jocasta could hear the grunting of pigs on the offal pile. Every few yards a brazier burned, and around it a few wretches gathered. A man wearing hardly rags enough to keep him decent was singing at one desperate-looking fire. One arm was slung over the shoulders of a dirty-faced girl, in the other he held a bottle. They were both glassy-eyed and laughing the way the damned laugh. Jocasta thought of the days before the cards came when she paid tuppence a night for a share of a bed in a room not far from here. She thought she’d never get the hell of it out of her. Strange what you can become accustomed to, what you can forget.
There was no use in trying to mind where they walked. The foulness was everywhere, but she kept her eyes down to check that she wasn’t going to break her neck falling down one of the open cellars. Bending over, she picked up Boyo and thrust him into Sam’s arms. He took the dog and then pointed to the house just opposite them.
“That where Clayton stays, is it?” she asked, and he nodded. “Up or down?” He gestured up.
Jocasta stepped into the doorway. The door itself was long gone. There’d be no banister either and her bones were cold and stiff from the day. There was another, leering shout of laughter from the singing drunk and his girl, and Sam darted to Jocasta’s side. They started to climb through the dark and stink, Jocasta feeling the wall with her palm to watch they didn’t fall into the night below.
4
Lord Sandwich did wish to have some conversation with Harriet, but first he wanted to walk her on his arm through the various rooms that were full of company. She was grateful, but it was a great relief to be led, finally, to an empty settee on one side of the drawing room to talk about naval matters for a little while. However, as they sat Sandwich said rather abruptly: “You are looking into the death of this little man from the opera, are you not?”
Harriet was surprised, and searched his face for any indication that he might know of their dealings with Palmer. She saw none. “Indeed. That is how we come to be here this evening, for he was acquainted with both Lord Carmichael and Manzerotti. Did you know him, my lord?”
Lord Sandwich scratched his jaw. “Had no idea of the fellow’s name till Carmichael told me of his death and said that you were coming here. He meant to embarrass you, you know, my dear. I have no doubt Lady Sybil was in collusion with him for that bit of unpleasantness. However, I shan’t have the wife of one of my best men treated that way, no matter what strangeness she gets involved with.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harriet said, and thought of Rachel.
“But I remembered him when he was described to me. I love the opera, you know, madam. Not the fuss, just the music-though no one comes close to Old Handel, of course. Yes, I’d seen that fellow sneaking about. I saw him a week or two after my poor Martha was shot outside Covent Garden. Man was practically drooling with excitement. If you find the fellow who killed him, he must be hanged-but I’d be happy to shake his hand first. Sure his death has something to do with His Majesty’s?”