Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

B ath, February 1814

"Lord Bengrove is here to see Mr Stretton, miss," Chivenor said, looking uneasy as he stepped into the back parlour. "Mr Stretton asks if you can wait outside the parlour, in case he wants to see you."

"Surely he can just ask you to come…" Jo stopped in mid-sentence. It was most unlike the staid butler to look so… furtive was the only word for it. Papa must have a reason. "Very well."

She followed Chivenor as he crept down the stairs and gestured her to a chair just outside the parlour. The door was ajar, and Jo could hear Lord Bengrove's voice. Chivenor did not meet her eyes as he gestured to the chair once more, then retreated towards the baize door to the servants' quarters.

Jo sat.

"…waste more time, Stretton."

Lord Bengrove's words were clear now she was sitting so close. Papa must want her to hear what was being said.

"My lord, I don't understand why you are so keen to discuss this now. When we were at Bengrove a year ago, we agreed that the matter should await your son's return from France, so he can have his part in it. It is his marriage after all."

It was her marriage as well, Jo thought.

"The boy will be keen to get married. It's been a long time." Lord Bengrove's words were sympathetic, but his tone was more one of impatience. "He'll want to get on with his life, eh?" he went on, his voice a little softer. "After being locked up for so long. Will have been very hard on him."

"As it will have been for all the prisoners. However, as you say, it has been a long time. I think the two of them should have a chance to get to know each other again before we think about contracts and settlements. They were only together for a just over a week. And we should allow some time for Jo to think about what her life will be like as a married woman."

"Eh? What do you mean, Stretton? Just like any other married woman!"

"My daughter is used to helping me with my business matters. She will?—"

"Good of you to humour her, but it's time she gave that up, surely? Women have no head for business. It's not natural."

Did Alfred think the same? She hoped not. But she recalled, with sinking spirits, that she had avoided mentioning her involvement in Papa's business interests when they had been together at Yelden. He might well share his father's view.

Papa was still talking. "You think that women are incapable of making important decisions, do you?"

"Everyone knows it, eh? That's why we do it for them."

"So you consider that women should not be allowed to make contractual arrangements?"

Why was Papa continuing this? A simple refusal to discuss the settlements would have been enough to get rid of Lord Bengrove.

"Of course not," Lord Bengrove replied. "Some have to, of course. Widows, and so on. But not when they have a man to rely on. I don't understand your wish to delay, Stretton. The betrothal was announced—you are not going to break your word, are you? That would not help your business interests if it became known."

That sounded like a threat.

"I have given you several reasons, Bengrove. There was no betrothal, or any announcement of one. And it is not a matter of me going back on my word, as my agreement would have been required before any betrothal took place. In fact, I understand that my daughter agreed only to wait until your son could return from Spain. That is irrelevant, however. Jo was with my wife at Yelden Court when your son met her. She was only twenty years of age at the time, and the only permission asked was of my wife. A woman , and therefore, as you have stated, not capable of giving such permission. You had sent the exaggerated details to that gossip column before I could be consulted on the matter."

There was a silence, and Jo smiled slightly. She imagined Lord Bengrove gaping like a landed fish. He had, in fact, been skilfully played.

"What… what are you saying, Stretton?"

"I'm saying," Papa repeated calmly, "that they need to spend some more time together before any further announcements or arrangements are made. And that I need to meet your son before giving him permission to marry my daughter."

"Your daughter is of age now. She doesn't need your consent."

"Have you asked her what she wants?" There was a pause. "No, I thought not. Don't forget, Bengrove, that although Jo can marry without my consent, she only has the dowry or other income that I choose to give her. And if she does marry without my consent, that amount could be very limited indeed."

"Hmph!" Lord Bengrove cleared his throat a couple of times.

"If that is all, Bengrove?"

A scrape of wood on wood indicated that Lord Bengrove might be about to leave, and she quickly stood up. She didn't want to be caught eavesdropping. She crept into the dining room across the entrance hall, and was just out of sight when she heard her father summon Chivenor to fetch their visitor's hat and coat. She waited until she heard the front door close behind him, then went to join her father in the parlour.

"Well, Jo?" he said seriously, waving her to a chair. "I assume you heard most of that?"

"Yes, Papa." Her father seemed to be waiting for some further comment. "He seems very anxious to get a contract signed. Did George tell you what Mr Bengrove said to him last December?" Papa shook his head, so Jo told him about Bengrove's assumption that George was courting her.

"And George did not deny it?"

"No. He said it was none of Bengrove's business."

"Good lad. But it could explain why Lord Bengrove continues to try to get contracts signed." He hesitated. "Jo—I will do something about the contracts if you wish it."

"No. You were right in what you said to Lord Bengrove." The Alfred she knew from his letters was not the man she remembered from that week at Yelden Court. Could the feelings she recalled be rekindled?

"Jo, he may not be like his father. Those parts of his letters I overheard you reading to your mother last week impressed me. I hadn't thought he was so considerate."

Jo felt her cheeks heat. "Er, those weren't Alfred's letters I was reading from."

Papa nodded, unsurprised. "I did wonder about that. Why, Jo?"

"Mama is still pinning her hopes for me on marrying Alfred, and I have read his letters out to her so many times…" She sighed. "I was adding a bit of variety for Mama's sake, and found something to discuss. I should own up to having deceived her, I suppose."

"No, Jo. At the moment she is still rather fragile, in mind as well as body. Let her continue to think well of the young man. When he returns, I will ask your aunt if she is willing to host a small house party at Yelden Court. Both of us wish you to be happy in your marriage, and that will give Frances time to know Alfred better, as well as you. If you then decide against him, Frances will be able to see that the marriage will not make you happy." He paused a moment. " And Jo, had you met another young man worthy of you, I would not have allowed those considerations to stand in your way had you wished to go back on your promise to wait for Alfred to return."

"Thank you, Papa." Although the reassurance was moot. "Why did you allow me to continue writing to Captain Delafield?"

"He seemed a sensible man, from his letters, and you were helping him and his friends to pass their time in captivity. I did make some enquiries as to his character before I gave you permission to continue."

Jo wondered what he had found out, but stopped herself from asking. Papa could still rescind his permission if she seemed too interested.

"And as it was Captain Delafield's observation that led to your mama's better health, I am very happy that I did allow it. But Jo, it would be best if you did not read any more of his letters to her."

"I won't, Papa."

If the Alfred who came back from France was the man she had agreed to wait for, Mama probably wouldn't even recall the letters. She would not worry about that until Alfred returned.

Verdun, March 1814

"Capitaine, thank you for coming." Allard stood to greet Rob, and shook his hand. "Do sit down."

Rob did so, assuming this would be the usual hand-over of a letter or batch of newspapers from Miss Stretton. Her letters had resumed their previous frequency in late January, with the welcome news that Mrs Stretton was much better, thanks to his suggestion.

There was a stack of Gazettes on Allard's desk, but also some back copies of French news sheets. As he sat, Allard brought out a map of France. "I do not wish to wait for you to summarise the news this time," he said. "In here," he tapped the pile of Gazettes , "there is news that your Marquess Wellington has defeated Maréchal Soult's army in France." He peered at the map, and pointed to a place just north of the Pyrenees. "Here." His finger moved on to various places further north. "And there have been battles here, and here, and…" he hesitated a moment, "and here, not far from Verdun."

The last was no surprise to Rob, as Verdun had been rife with rumours for the last month or more, mostly about the movements of Napoleon's troops or the various armies of the Coalition forces in north-western France. Some of the soldiers must have passed nearby, but the prisoners were no longer allowed out of the town for exercise. Reports of who had fought where and who was winning were garbled, but, to Rob's surprise, there seemed to be a general feeling among the townspeople that the Coalition forces were prevailing, and that this was not necessarily a bad thing.

"This is… well, this is good news for me, monsieur," Rob said carefully, not sure what Allard's opinion was.

"I think it is good news for France, Capitaine. The emperor…" He shrugged. "There have been a lot of good French lives lost, and for what? He gave Spain to his brother, who has lost it now to your Marquess Wellington. And the attack on Russia? Pah! We are all war weary."

"Thank you for telling me," Rob said. "Your information is… correct?"

"As far as I know. I have news from various commercial contacts. I think there will soon be a battle for Paris. Then we shall see."

There was an uneasy pause. Rob thought that Allard wanted something else, but he seemed reluctant to say anything. "May I take these to read them?" he asked eventually, pointing at the Gazettes .

" Oui! There is a letter, too." Allard picked it up, but did not immediately hand it over. "You are acquainted with Mr Stretton?"

Rob hesitated. He was not about to explain the details of his connection with Miss Stretton, but it was clear that her father allowed the correspondence, so he just agreed that he was.

"You will let him know I have been helpful?" Allard asked. "I think it will be important to keep good business dealings when this mess is over."

"Certainly, if you wish it. There is a way you could assist me, if you are willing, monsieur." With the news of Napoleon falling back towards Paris, he had been thinking about what would happen when he could leave Verdun, and when prisoners from the ranks were released. "I was not the only one in my company captured, I think. If my men were not too badly wounded, they may be still held in France. I did hear the officer escorting us talking about it when we were a few days' journey south of here. If they are nearby, I would like to make sure they have the means to get home safely."

"You wish me to find where they were taken?"

Rob nodded.

" Bien . You will write down the details, and I will ask for you. And when the time comes, you may apply for a loan if you need it. You will repay me via Mr Stretton, yes?" Allard was rolling up the Gazettes as he spoke, and handed them to Rob. Rob thanked him, then headed for his lodgings.

He shared the news with Moorven and Chadwick that evening, and they drank rather too much wine toasting the successes of the Allies and the prospect of a final defeat of Bonaparte. Now all they had to do was wait for that to happen so they could all go home.

And he would have to warn Mr Stretton about Bengrove.