-10-

Jem

Jem was in entirely too much agreement with Eliza's assessment, though he couldn't fathom for the life of him what anyone could have against Lady Linfield. She was a pleasant, amenable sort, rather too timid for his tastes, but certainly not the sort of woman one imagined having vindictive enough enemies that they'd attempt to burn one alive, or, for that matter, any enemies at all. In fact, the only person who'd displayed any sort of antagonism towards her was her husband.

To reassure himself Linfield hadn't fallen onto the notion of disposing of his wife, Jem sought him out with the intention of asking plainly. He found Linfield in the library reading one of last week's newspapers. He had the broadsheet spread across his desk, examining the print through a magnifying glass.

"Anything of interest afoot in the world?"

"Nothing that's worth wasting my sight over." With a great show of sullenness, he cast down the eyeglass.

Jem picked it up, though he could see the print perfectly well without it.

"There is some article about someone called Hatchett you'll probably wish to drool over. Member of the Royal Society. Says he's discovered ‘new earth', not that one imagines it has any practical application."

Jem took a position side by side with Linfield to read the article for himself. There was little reported beyond what Linfield had already told him, besides the discovery having been found during an analysis of a specimen from the collection at the British Museum.

"Where is everyone?" He imagined he would find them all ruminating over the strange fire and Lady Linfield's health.

"Isn't that a jolly good question?" Linfield griped. "Bell, I believe, is at his cadavers. You are here. My wife is no doubt still comatose, though I can't in all honesty say that is a great shame, and as for the Cluetts…" He did not finish that remark, but took to pacing, which seemed an interesting development, as normally George and Linfield were as thick as thieves. Still, there were more pressing matters to address than whatever tiff the two happened to have had.

"It strikes me, that perhaps you ought to display a little more concern for Lady Linfield's well-being," Jem said, instantly earning himself a scowl. "That is, unless you wish everyone to think you're behind the unfortunate bed incident."

Linfield came to an abrupt halt, swirling to face Jem head on. "What the mithering devil are you talking about? An absentminded maid with a stray candle flame was behind that drama. There's no mystery. Ill intent— pfft !" He snapped his fingers at the very notion.

"She swears—"

"Of course she does. What servant would ever confess to such ineptitude? Nearly burning her mistress to death, I should think she'd deny it even if we'd caught her holding the damn flame."

While Linfield's argument was surprisingly logical, Jem couldn't quite bring himself to accept it as a true accounting of the matter. That fire had burned too fierce and fast to be anything but deliberate, and the maid had nothing to gain from hurting her mistress, unlike Linfield, who would be only too delighted to mourn the loss of his wife.

"I shall check on my lady's welfare again in a little while," Linfield announced. He forced a smile. "There, will that appease you? I shall take her flowers and candied almonds and play the dutiful husband. I will even listen attentively to whatever raving nonsense she wishes to impart about the phantasms that haunt this old place."

"She saw something yestereve."

"Aye, likely her own shadow. I understand it is quite the fashion, but I confess I have no patience for the timidity and sensitive natures of young ladies. They are so squeamish and ridiculous."

"That is rather a generalisation, my lord."

"Is it? Is it? Name one woman who is not prone to such fits of blancmange."

"Eliza." Her name burst from his mouth before he had time to think over the wisdom of it.

"Eliza?" Linfield's brows instantly relocated to halfway up his forehead.

"Miss Wakefield." Jem coughed.

"Yes, I'm aware of to whom you refer. What concerns me is how intimate the two of you appear to be." He silenced Jem before he could make any sort of explanation. "Please, I need no further reminders of your previous meeting. What alarms me is that after such a short acquaintance you are on such close terms. Particularly when one suspects that closeness leans to a deeper sort of intimacy than that which you currently afford me. Me." He sidled closer, raising a hand to cradle the side of Jem's face. "The man you loved with considerable fervour until a few weeks ago."

"Loved?" It was unwise, but he couldn't help the expulsion. "It was only ever a physical arrangement. Let us not pretend otherwise."

"You wound me," Linfield theatrically clasped a hand to his chest.

Jem rolled his eyes. "Linfield, please. We have already been over this. You are a married man, and no longer free to—"

"Bugger my fellow man? Jem, dear, has it really escaped your attention that that was never legal?"

"I am fully—"

"Hence a marriage oath hardly seems to matter, particularly as we both know this marriage was forced on me."

"That is wholly irrelevant."

"I need your aid more than ever, Jamie. However, it is plain to see why you're so reluctant to give it. 'Tis more than pretty words you've exchanged with Miss Wakefield, is it not? Or do you expect me to believe the bruise I spy beneath your collar the result of a kiss from one of Bell's leeches?"

He stupidly gave himself away by raising a hand to touch the spot where Eliza had earlier concentrated such attention. Linfield burned him with his gaze.

"Good God, man, look at the state of you. Perhaps it has escaped your notice that there are char marks on your cuffs, not to mention a hole burned through the shoulder of your coat." Such damage had in fact escaped Jem's notice, but he was more flummoxed by Linfield's pointing it out at this juncture when he'd expected an artillery charge over his connection with Eliza.

Linfield stuck his finger through the hole he'd just pointed out. "You're a shambolic disgrace, Mr Whistler. I simply cannot have you in my presence in such a state. You had best shed this ignominious garment immediately."

When Jem didn't leap into action, Linfield added an expectant, "Well?"

Jem gaped at him.

"Off. Off. Take it off." He near wrenched the coat from Jem's back. "In fact, the waistcoat too, and the shirt. The whole lot needs to be removed. Your whole wardrobe reeks of smoke and ashes. I will not have you in my presence stinking like a bonfire." Jem stood bewildered, hands upon his buttons, as Linfield rung for a servant. The more buxom of the two maids appeared, and so quickly that she must have been right outside with her ear to the door.

"Me lord?" She dropped into an idle and very insincere sort of curtsy.

Linfield didn't seem to notice.

"Have a bath drawn for Mr Whistler at once."

"Ah bath! T' be taken t' 'is room!"

Jem swore she was calculating exactly how many trips from the kitchen to his chamber up three flights of stairs that would take, and the vexatious puckering of her features told him she didn't care for the tally.

Linfield tapped his index finger to his lips, oblivious to her lack of obsequiousness. "Heavens, no. There isn't space. Before the fireplace in mine, that's the thing. You'll be more than comfortable there."

"A hip bath in mine would be—"

"Nonsense," Linfield countermanded his attempt to spare the girl's back. "See to it immediately, girl."

"Right away, me lord." She stomped away heavy on her feet and muttering things about her employer that Jem was certain were distinctly rude.

"What the devil are you about?" Jem muttered as soon as the recalcitrant maid was out of earshot. He did not expect or require an answer; Linfield's intent was all too obvious.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to a spot just below Jem's earlobe.

"Cleanliness is next to godliness." Linfield smiled sweetly. "And you smell dreadful. Not to mention you also seem to have smudges of soot in all sorts of strange places." He made a point of tracing a few of them. "Shall we go up now?"

One hand on Jem's back, Linfield endeavoured to steer him towards the door. "Come now, you're not going to protest taking a bath like some schoolboy scapegrace?"

"You need hardly escort me."

"Oh, I think I must," Linfield insisted. "If you will not satisfy me, Jem Whistler, then you can at least indulge me in this. We will go to my room, you will bathe, and I… I will watch. It will be desperately chaste and altogether civilised. Well, perhaps not entirely chaste… or civilised, but it will be within the bounds of your preposterous terms. Though do not think for a moment that I've forgotten our proposed rendezvous in the third-floor corridor just because it's had to be delayed."

Truly, Jem could not think of a man more self-absorbed.

"Your wife is comatose in bed having almost been consumed by fire. How can you even…? You might at least feign some regard for her welfare."

"Do be a darling, and quit with your admonishments. Truly, Jem, do you wish me to fake affection where there is none? It's a blessed relief not to have to spend my every waking thought wondering how I shall ever get through the ordeal of fulfilling the marriage contract. Of course, I am glad my wife emerged unscathed from this morning's dramatics, but I feel no more affection for her than before. How many times must I state it for you? I find in her nothing that beguiles, charms, or excites my person, nor am I likely to grow into such feelings. Don't mistake me, she is hardly unique amongst her sex in that regard. The feminine form has never been one that captivated my attentions. Some fellows like all that flummery, the softness, the abundance." He made a crude visualisation of breasts to illustrate his point. "Others, however, like you, like myself, are entranced by other qualities. The sort of qualities that only another fellow possesses."

They were not quite so alike as Linfield supposed. "Linfield," he enunciated with deliberate care. "The maid did not start that fire. I am telling you this as a man of science, a man of logic. Someone attacked Lady Linfield deliberately, and the way you are behaving right now rather points at it being you."

Linfield smacked him hard across the face. "How dare you?"

Jem lifted a hand to his stinging cheek. "What other conclusion would you have me reach. You are at pains to point out how little she pleases you, and how crippled you are by her existence. Why wouldn't I think—"

Linfield grabbed Jem's arm and twisted it painfully into the small of his back. "Watch your tongue, tutor, else you might give me even greater cause to loosen mine. I can ruin your Miss Wakefield with a mere suggestion of impropriety with a fellow guest. Cluett may be a merciless tin-kettle, but his mother has a multitude of talents, one of which is as society's premier tell-tale-tit."