Murder in mayfair, p.23
Murder In Mayfair, page 23
We both rose to our feet and stood facing one another, our eyes locked as we each drank in the welcome sight of the other. At length, I looked down, then back up.
“Would you . . . like a cup of tea?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I daresay tea is the perfect remedy to restore a man’s dignity.”
Smiling, I led the way to the drawing room, pausing only to ask Mr. Gant to instruct Mrs. Gant to bring us up a fresh pot of tea.
In the drawing room, Mr. Talbot and I took seats on the sofa. As usual it felt a bit chilly in the room, but I do not believe we either one noticed so lost were we in the delightful sight of the other.
“What are you doing here?” we both asked in unison, then self-consciously laughed.
He took the lead. “Sir Morland has a business associate in Town and prevailed upon me to carry some important documents up to him, so I . . . but, I expect that does not explain what I am doing here, in this house.” He cast a glance about. “I came here because I spotted a placard in the window of a shop near my lodging house advertising an auction, and as the list of items looked promising, I thought perhaps I might find something suitable to serve as a wedding gift for Edward and Caroline. I’ve not yet purchased anything special for them. But . . .” His head shook with wonder. “How is it that you are here, my dear Juliette?”
I could not cease smiling. In as few words as possible I told him how I came to be at the house in Brook Street, although I omitted the part about having been accused of murdering Mr. Chalmers, and merely said I had answered an advertisement for a companion to the murdered man’s widow. I also did not divulge any other aspects of the puzzlement in which I now found myself.
“However,” I said, “as the late Mr. Chalmers was a collector of curiosities, and Mrs. Chalmers expressed no interest in disposing of her husband’s collection, I took on the task of commissioning an auction house to handle the matter. The auction is set to commence on Thursday.”
“So what was that rude chap demanding of you when I turned up?”
“He was simply horrid, wasn’t he? You’ve no idea how frightened I was! I feared he might be Mr. Chalmers’ killer!”
“So, what did he want?” Mr. Talbot asked again.
“Something quite silly, actually. He came to retrieve a walking stick.” I quickly relayed the tale, then when Mrs. Gant appeared with our tea, summarily dismissed the matter.
As we each absently sipped from a cup, Mr. Talbot caught me up on the doings at Morland Manor, all of which I found pleasant and absorbing.
“I had wondered what occurred after I left,” I said when he concluded. “I’ve had only one letter from Caroline and it was full of plans for their bright future together after they wed.”
“Yes, well; they do seem to be making a go of it. Both seem quite happy. As are Edward’s cousin and Miss Grant, or rather now, Mrs. Henry Morland.”
“So Henry and Hester have also wed?”
“Indeed,” he nodded. “The manor house is quite full these days. And we all get on tolerably well.” He smiled. “Although, I daresay I often feel like a fifth wheel.”
We both laughed, then I said, “Well, since you came to preview the auction, would you like to go up to the ballroom and have a look around? Perhaps something will catch your eye. There’s a lovely set of needlework tools that Caroline might fancy.” I paused. “I quite like them myself. As well as the ladies’ writing set.”
“Perhaps I shall also find something suitable for Henry and Hester,” Mr. Talbot replied.
Back in the foyer, we fell in behind a group of people only just heading for the stairs.
A sigh escaped me as I whispered, “I shall not be sorry to have this auction business over and done with.”
“I rather expect it has been a great deal of work for you, but, as I recall, you are quite a capable young lady.”
I smiled up at him. Mr. Talbot looked more handsome today than I remembered. The curls of his dark wavy hair grazed the collar of his navy-blue superfine coat. Paired with buff breeches and shiny black top-boots, he looked quite dashing indeed. I had not realized in the past months how very much I had missed merely gazing upon a fashionably turned-out gentleman. Mr. Talbot’s fine looks were quite a contrast to both old Mr. Gant with his thinning gray hair, and the smooth, whiskerless cheeks of Timothy, who might one day be considered handsome, but was now merely a gangly youth whose nose seemed too large for his face and his arms too long for his coat sleeves.
During our tour of the ballroom, Mr. Talbot did indeed pause to inspect those few items I mentioned that Caroline might like. He also spotted several articles of interest to a gentleman, such as the Wellington chest of drawers, and a fine wine Canterbury, which perhaps Edward, or his cousin Henry Morland, would fancy. Ambling slowly about the room, it occurred to me there truly was not a single walking stick amongst the articles on display. It also occurred to me that since Mr. Chalmers’ death, I had also not come across the unusual walking stick he habitually carried.
Several people, including Miss Goodman across the street, and also Lady Conroy had mentioned the walking stick Mr. Chalmers carried. I made a mental note to question Marianne regarding the whereabouts of her husband’s walking stick, although I just as quickly realized that to do so would probably be a useless endeavor for she had often declared she paid her husband’s affairs no mind. For her to know, or even care, about what might have happened to a mere walking stick was absurd. So far as I knew, she had not even ventured up to the ballroom in order to see how things were progressing here.
Back down stairs I stood gazing up at Mr. Talbot at the front door as he prepared to leave, drawing on his gloves, retrieving his hat from Mr. Gant. I longed to ask if he might have time to call again before he quitted London, but refrained, then was vastly pleased when he said, “Might I call on you again tomorrow afternoon, Miss Abbott?”
My smile widened. “I was hoping to see you once more while you are in Town, Mr. Talbot.”
With Mr. Gant having now disappeared, Mr. Talbot reached a hand behind him for the doorknob. “Rest assured, I have every intention of attending the auction,” he said. “Perhaps even both days of it. I daresay you will need me about if for no other reason than to protect you from that angry fellow who was accosting you when I arrived here today.”
“I confess I was vastly pleased to see you,” I admitted.
“And I did a credible job of running the bloke off, too, did I not?”
We both laughed.
“I expect I distracted you,” I said.
His gloved hand still resting on the doorknob, he gazed deeply into my eyes. “You always distract me, Juliette.”
My pulse began to race and my heart to flutter.
“Until tomorrow then.” With a nod, he turned to pull open the door. I watched him disappear from sight as he moved down the walk, the curb lined with carriages and curricles belonging to others who were still roaming about above stairs. A blissful sigh escaped me. But the sudden sound of Timothy’s voice quickly drew me around.
“You acquainted with that fine gentleman, Miss Abbott? Seems a decent sort. Fine dresser, too.”
“Hm-m, yes; Mr. Talbot did look quite handsome today, did he not?” Only then did it dawn on me that both Timothy and Mr. Gant were presently in the house. “Is Mrs. Chalmers at home, Timothy?”
He shrugged. “Couldn’t say, miss. I left her at Gunter’s like she asked me to. Said her friend would see her home.”
“Her friend? Did you see her friend?”
“No, but I ‘pect it’s the same fellow she always meets up with, either there, ‘er . . . elsewhere.”
I exhaled a noisy breath. “Very well, then. Carry on.” I moved away from the door just as another rap sounded and our young footman, properly turned out in his scarlet livery, drew himself up to answer the summons.
Returning to the study, I assumed Marianne was once again passing the long hours of the afternoon in the company of Mr. Evan Northwood. Did the child not know the difference between proper and improper behavior for an unwed young lady, one who was deep in mourning, for not one, but two, close family members?
CHAPTER 23
Mr. Talbot Calls Again
WEDNESDAY, 21 FEBRUARY 1821
All I could think about that evening and also the next morning were the few delightful moments I had spent in the company of Mr. Talbot, how thrilled I had been to see him here, and how much I looked forward to seeing him again. My thoughts also strayed to those delicious memories from our shared time together at Morland Manor. Oh! How much I had missed him!
During dinner that evening, Marianne also seemed unusually distracted and also again this morning over breakfast, but as I was still far too filled with pleasant memories of Mr. Talbot during both meals, I chose not to initiate a conversation with her about anything.
After luncheon today, she and I both returned above stairs to our bedchamber and at virtually the same moment, headed straight for the wardrobe where her multitude of gowns hung and also my few frocks, taking up only a sparse space, squeezed in a corner.
“You are changing your gown for the afternoon, Juliette? Whatever for?” Her tone sounded a trifle disdainful as she flung open the wardrobe doors.
Having stepped aside as she breezed past me on her way to the clothespress, I sat down on the edge of the bed to await my turn. “I-I am expecting Mr. Phelps to call today; t-to go over our final plans for tomorrow. The auction is set to begin promptly at one of the clock in the afternoon, far too late then to make last minute changes, or . . . or for any other reason. Where . . . might you be off to this afternoon?”
Suddenly, she began to fling one after another of her many lovely gowns from the wardrobe to the floor.
“Why, w-what are you doing?”
“I shall never wear these old frocks again. I mean to tell Mr. Gant to take them to the rag-picker. I no longer want them.”
Lurching to my feet, I stooped to pick up one of the discarded gowns, a fine soft, purple woolen frock with long sleeves. “But, this one looks quite new,” I said, then stooped to pick up another. “As does this one.” I draped the purple gown over my forearm as I held up the other one. “What can be the matter with this gown?” I gazed at the pale blue confection, suitable to wear to the opera, or even a soiree.
“I no longer want any of them!” The girl was still tossing gowns helter-skelter. “I mean to order up all new frocks. The only ones I wish to keep are my pretty new ones that were delivered on Saturday. If you are so fond of these old rags, you may keep them for yourself. I don’t care a fig what is done with them.”
Already I was holding the purple woolen up before me. Although I stood a few inches taller than Marianne, I was not a great deal larger in girth. Truth to tell, likely due to Mrs. Gant’s culinary treats, Marianne was now a tad bit more plump than I, most especially in the . . . upper region (for such a young girl, Marianne was very well endowed) whereas my lower area was a bit more rounded than hers.
Looking down the length of the pretty purple gown, I decided then and there to let down the hem and wear it this very afternoon. Without saying a word to Marianne, I retrieved needle and thread and hurrying into the sitting room, fell at once to my task.
But was soon interrupted by the sound of her voice summoning my help with the hooks of her gown. I glanced up from my work to find her standing before me, half in, half out of one of her new frocks, a stylish blue plaid round-gown trimmed in darker blue braid. “Where are you going today?” I asked, the words tumbling from my lips before I could halt them.
“Mr. Northwood is calling for me.”
Which did not answer my question, but I thrust the prick of irritation I felt from mind as I laid aside my needle and thread in order to assist her. Marianne was free to go where she pleased. I, on the other hand, intended to spend as many hours of this afternoon as possible in the delightful company of my Mr. Talbot!
A bit later, proudly wearing my ‘new’ purple gown, the bodice prettily trimmed with rows and rows of silver lace, I hurried below stairs to greet my handsome gentleman caller who stood awaiting me in the foyer.
Gazing at me, Mr. Talbot smiled. “Good afternoon, Miss Abbott. You look especially lovely today. But, then, I do not recall a time when you did not look lovely.”
“Thank you, sir. You look quite handsome yourself.”
And he did. His form-fitting chocolate brown coat fit his broad shoulders to perfection, as did his snug-fitting buff breeches tucked into a pair of knee-high brown leather boots.
Moments earlier, when Timothy had rapped at my door to tell me a gentleman was asking for me, I knew it was Mr. Talbot. I draped my lovely green velvet pelisse over my arm before hurrying down the stairs to the foyer. Now, both Timothy and Mr. Talbot reached to hold my outer garment for me, but to my immense pleasure, it was Mr. Talbot who won out and settled the ermine-trimmed pelisse upon my shoulders. As he stood behind me, he leaned down to brush his lips against my cheek, then with a sheepish shake of his head, said, “Forgive me, I could not resist. You look absolutely charming.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied happily.
Although the February air outdoors was cool and the slight wind brisk, I felt as if I were floating on a cloud as we advanced down the walk to the shiny black coach with the Morland crest on the side door, awaiting us at the curb.
“I thought we might make a slow promenade about Hyde Park if that sounds agreeable to you,” Mr. Talbot said after we were both settled inside the large coach and it was jouncing over the cobbles. “Afterwards, I thought we might take tea at my lodging house in Knightsbridge. I have spotted a good many folks dining in the public tea room, lodgers with their guests and what not. You and I taking tea together should be considered quite proper.”
“That sounds delightful,” I murmured. Because I could scarcely contain my excitement over simply being with him, I’m certain I would have agreed to anything he proposed, even to taking a freezing dip together in the Serpentine. However, in an effort to not appear a complete ninny-hammer, I worked to tamp down my rising elation, but soon gave up the wasted effort. I was overjoyed to be going anywhere with Mr. Talbot and there was nothing for it but to savor every delightful moment for I did not know when, or if, I would ever be accorded the pleasure again.
Once we entered the park, his long legs nearly touching mine as the coach bounced over the deep ruts caused by the recent rains, it rather felt to me as if we were enveloped in a cozy cocoon of our own, cut off from the busy world that lay beyond the coach window. A part of my mind noted quite a number of other ladies and gentlemen also taking advantage of the fine day in order to leisurely traverse the park in fine carriages, or on horseback. In only a few moments, Mr. Talbot reached to remove his hat, and after carefully setting it beside himself on the plush leather squabs, turned ever so slightly in order to face me, one arm casually, and rather intimately, draped across the back of the bench.
“I’ve missed you terribly, Juliette,” he began, his voice sounding a trifle raspy as his dark gaze held mine. “I’ve missed seeing you every evening as I was accustomed to doing at Morland Manor, and talking with you. I’ve missed . . .”
Suddenly, his dark head dipped lower and his full moist lips eagerly captured mine. His arms drew me close to him as mine roamed up his strong chest to wind tightly about his neck. Memories of the previous kisses we shared flooded my mind, but none felt as delicious as this one for we were now entirely alone together, unafraid of being caught in a compromising position by Lady Morland, or anyone else who might express disapproval of our actions. Molding my small body to his, I could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart through the layers of our clothing. Shivers of delight raced up my spine, engulfing and suffusing every part of me. At precisely the same instant, we both seemed to grow increasingly hungry for the other, both our bodies aching, starving . . . for more.
At length, however, my sense of decency prevailed and I drew away, yet my pulse continued to pound and my insides felt near to bursting. “Philip,” I breathed, “we . . . mustn’t . . .” Thoughts of Cathleen Haworth rushed to mind, how she must have felt when Mr. Chalmers took her in his arms, and then, how they . . . oh! Oh, my! “We cannot,” I said, more forcefully.
He straightened. “No; no, indeed, we cannot. As usual, you are quite right. Do forgive me, my dear. I seem unable to restrain myself whenever I am near you.”
Quite reluctantly, I turned to face forward, my gaze fixed upon the empty bench before me as my gloved hands nervously patted the crushed folds of my green velvet pelisse back into place. Beside me, I became aware of Mr. Talbot tugging at his coat sleeves. From the corner of an eye, I saw him snatch up his hat and replace it upon his dark head. Then, he crossed one long leg over the over and shifted a bit away from me upon the coach bench.
“P-Perhaps we should adjourn to your lodging house . . .” I said, but the instant his dark head jerked ‘round, I amended, “T-To the tea room, I mean.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Quite right. Driver!”
Tooling along the wide road that ran along the south side of Hyde Park towards the Royal Borough of Kensington, we eventually drew up before a large red-brick mansion that had recently been converted to a fashionable lodging house. A number of coaches were parked at the curb and a score of finely-turned out ladies and gentleman were even now ascending the wide steps to enter the building.
Inside the foyer, after telling the uniformed attendant that we wished to partake of tea this afternoon, Mr. Talbot and I were shown into the dining chamber to a small, secluded table overlooking a spacious garden. Gazing from the window at my side, I thought, in a few months time, when the grass turned green, and the trees and flowers were all abloom, the aspect from here would be quite pleasant, indeed. In the distance, I spotted a pond, the sun glancing off the water causing it to twinkle with tiny specs of sparkling light.
A fine china teapot was brought to our table along with two delicate teacups and gold-rimmed plates hand-painted with an image of our new King George IV, whose coronation had not yet taken place. Conspicuously missing was an image of Queen Caroline of Brunswick, no doubt a result of the trial last autumn when the King levied charges of immoral conduct against her in an attempt to strip her of her crown and title. I had yet to learn the final decree from the trial.
