Chapter 7

Seven

L ily had still not heard anything from Alicia. The afternoon was drawing on, and the time for the ball was fast approaching. The modiste had made the necessary adjustments to the dress, and had it delivered to the inn, where the landlord – who now seemed far less suspicious of Lily – had proved to be a continued source of interest and information over luncheon.

"Oh, yes – they're an ancient family. One of the richest in England. I didn't care much for the previous duke – I mean the present Duke's father. His brother was hardly in the inherit long enough to count. No, he was a stern man, and the Duchess – then the dowager duchess – was a stern woman. I never saw her smile. She'd drive past in her carriage, expecting the shopkeepers to come out to her. But that's aristocrats for you. I suppose it's even worse in London," the landlord said, and Lily nodded.

"Oh, yes – quite terrible," she said, and the landlord shook his head.

"The things you hear about them – and especially the rakish heir. Last week, he got so drunk, it took four men to carry him out, and I won't lower myself by repeating some of the words he used. It's an absolute scandal," he said, shaking his head.

"I'd never have thought it. I'm surprised no one reveals these things," Lily said, and the landlord nodded.

"Someone should – he won't get away with it forever," he said, and Lily smiled.

"No, he won't, I'm sure," she said, taking up her knife and fork, as a dish of mutton and potatoes was placed in front of her.

Having heard nothing from Alicia by the time she had finished eating, Lily decided to take matters into her own hands. She had already made up her mind to attend the ball at the assembly rooms that evening. It would be the perfect opportunity to observe those characters she had already heard so much about, and to revisit her acquaintance with the heir, in particular. It was he on whom she intended to base her scandal sheet, and she had made discreet enquiries of the landlord as to whether such a publication already existed.

"You mean the penny horrors? Not here, not really. There's the Broker Press on Nottingham Street – they print all manner of pamphlets and tracts. Someone always wanted to put their opinions into print, don't they? But you won't find anyone printing scandal – there's not enough of it," the landlord had replied.

But given what Lily had already heard, she felt convinced there was, and, after luncheon, she set out in search of the Broker Press, intending to offer them her services. Entrance to the ball was something she could achieve through flirtatious persuasion – Lily was used to such things, for she often talked her way into societal gatherings, only to emerge with just the information she required. But a formal invitation would make things easier, and she hoped the Broker Press might be run along a similar nature, to that of her editor in London – printing whatever was required without questions as to its intended use.

"Could you direct me to the Broker Press?" Lily asked, stopping a young boy in the street.

He pointed vaguely to a dilapidated building at the far end, where the remnants of an ancient wheel were attached to what must once have been a watermill.

"It's in there," the boy said, and Lily rewarded him with a penny.

"Thank you," she said, and the boy ran off looking pleased with himself.

Lily was curious – the watermill was hardly what she had expected, and she approached with some trepidation, pausing at the door. But before she could knock, it was pulled open, and an elderly man, white haired, and with a suspicious look on his face answered it.

"Yes? Sneaking around you? One of those do-gooders trying to stop my printing what I want? It was the magistrate last week – threatening me. Who are you?" he demanded, and Lily smiled.

"My name's Lily Porter, and I'm certainly not here to cause trouble, Mr. Broker. In fact, I'm eager to make you an offer," she said, using her false name again.

The printer's eyes narrowed, and he straightened up, opening the door further.

"You can come in – but I'm watching you," he said, as Lily stepped inside.

A printing press stood where once the mechanisms of the mill had been. The air was damp and smelled of ink and oil. The tools of the printer's trade lay all around – a table was covered with block lettering and vats of ink in various colors, whilst piles of paper stood in dusty corners, and the latest printing runs were stacked neatly on another table waiting to be packaged.

"What a marvelous place," Lily said, for she had always liked to see printing presses – they were the tool by which her words were dispersed, and she felt certain Mr. Broker would help her.

"What is it you want? Something printed?" he asked, and Lily nodded.

"I understand you print a variety of pamphlets and tracts?" she said, and the printer nodded.

"That's right, though there're plenty who'd be glad if I didn't. I print for the Catholics, that upsets the Church, and I print for the dissenters, too – that upsets the Church. I print for the politicians, that upsets the ones in power… I could go on," he said, shaking his head.

"What about the aristocracy? Do you ever upset them?" Lily asked.

"No, but I'd be glad to do so. They'd like me shut down, too. No one likes a man with a printing press and a free thought in his head," the printer replied.

"Then what if I was to make you a proposition?" Lily asked, and she explained something of the work she did, and how it might be beneficial to them both.

Lily had brought several samples with her, and Mr. Broker examined them with interest, nodding and smiling to himself.

"Yes, I see what you do, Miss Porter. And what do you expect from it? Blackmail, I suppose. That could be dangerous for me," he said, but Lily shook her head.

"Not at all. I only write what's true. I don't ask for money to prevent it being published. But ordinary people like to read about the scandals engulfing their apparent betters. A scandal sheet can contain advertising, and you – the printer – stand to gain considerably from the increased circulation of your publications by including one," she said.

Lily was used to selling her wares. It was no different to selling lace or hot chestnuts on a stall. She had something others wanted, and they were prepared to pay for it. Lily kept up with demand, and her supply was already established. The printer nodded.

"Yes… I can see you're successful in what you do. But why do you think it'll work here, in Lancashire?" he asked.

"Aren't there scandals in Lancashire, too?" Lily replied.

The printer nodded, narrowing his eyes, and smiling. He cocked his head to one side, looking at Lily, who returned his gaze unflinchingly. She was used to dealing with suspicion, even as it seemed the printer was interested in what she had to offer.

"I'll only print it if you're certain of the truth – and on your head be it," he said.

"I pride myself on revealing the truth – as unpalatable as it might be to those whom it concerns. I've never written anything that wasn't true. I'm here for the season, staying with a friend. I'll have ample opportunity to observe the comings and goings of society. I'm always discreet. No one need know who I am," she said, and the printer laughed.

"I like you, Miss Porter. Very well, I'll print your scandal paper and include it in my next distribution. Write a piece about tonight's ball at the assembly rooms. I assume you're going," he said, and Lily nodded.

"I'll be there, though it would be easier to gain entrance if I had an invitation," she said, glancing at the printing press.

"I can print you one, yes – but they're the same every year. No one ever wants to forge them. Why would they? But if it makes it easier for you," he said, and it was not long before Lily was handed the invitation, printed in block lettering, and embossed with a crest of two lions and an eagle.

Thanking the printer, and assuring him she would deliver a timely report of events at the ball, Lily left the watermill smiling to herself. She had only been in the district of Lancaster for a day, and already she had contacts, information, and a source of distribution. Lily knew her father would be proud of her, and she was eager to carry out her task with diligence and report back to him – he would be awaiting her letter. Now, she began to compose the first scandal sheet in her mind, imagining what she would say, and how she would report her observations.

It'll all be quite innocuous at first – until the punch begins to flow. That's when scandal emerges, Lily thought to herself.

But her musings were interrupted by the sight of none other than the heir to the dukedom himself. Lord Maximilian was entering the inn just as she approached, and hurrying after him, Lily was delighted to think she might discover something more about him before the evening had even begun…

"Landlord, an ale – and swiftly, I haven't got all day," Maximilian said, as Lily entered the inn behind him.

The landlord did not look pleased at the presence of the duke's heir, but he served him, nonetheless, glancing at Lily, who was hovering by the door, hoping Maximilian would notice her.

If I can get him to talk, perhaps he'll reveal something more about his family, Lily thought to herself, as Maximilian turned with the tankard of ale in his hand and noticed her.

"Oh…good afternoon. I know you, don't I?" he said.

There was an arrogance in his voice – as though it was she who was expected to draw his attention, even as she desired it.

"We met last night, as I was disembarking from my carriage. I'd just arrived from London," Lily replied, and Maximilian nodded.

"Ah, yes, I remember now – I'm glad to see you again," he said, extending his hand in an invitation to join him at the nearest table.

Lily did so, even as the landlord gave her a look. She wanted to talk to Maximilian, even as it repulsed her to do so. Her estimation of him was simple – he was a rake, and rakes deserved everything that was printed about them, for it was always true.

"I didn't expect to see you here. I didn't realize aristocrats frequented such places," she said, and Maximilian laughed.

"Not all of them do, but I'm not like most aristocrats. Won't you have a drink with me? Landlord, an ale for the lady," Maximilian called out.

"I don't think that's quite appropriate, do you?" Lily said.

She hoped to embarrass the duke's heir, and she certainly did not wish to give the impression she would drink ale with him. But the truth was somewhat different – Lily often shared a tankard of ale with her informants, and she was certainly not too proud to keep whatever company was necessary to secure the information she required. But Maximilian did not appear perturbed, merely shrugging and waving his hand dismissively.

"I thought you might be the sort of woman who drank ale. I'm obviously mistaken," he said, and Lily nodded.

"That's certainly true. I'm only here whilst I await my friend. We'll be going to the ball tonight. Didn't you say you'd be going, too?" she asked, dangling the proposition before him.

Maximilian nodded, though his expression now brightened at the revelation of Lily's attendance.

"I did, yes, though I usually find the occasions interminably dull. One can't misbehave with one's parents watching," he said, and Lily nodded.

"That's true – do you normally misbehave?" she asked, hoping flirtation would yield the answers she sought.

He smiled lasciviously at her, leaning forward over his drink, and tapping his fingers across the table towards her arm, where he placed his hand.

"I can do – I certainly can," he said, and Lily had to try very hard to prevent her countenance from changing to a look of disgust.

He repulsed her, even as she felt certain his rakish ways would be to her advantage. It was the perfect means by which to take revenge against the Duke of Lancaster. Here was his son, the heir to one of the noblest titles in the land, behaving in the most outlandish manner. It was barely three O'clock in the afternoon, and he was drunk, leering over a woman he barely knew, and sitting in a public house. The scandal paper would write itself, and there would be no need for any elaboration.

"I'm glad to hear it. Aristocrats can be so dull. At least…that's my impression of them. But I'm sure you'll change my opinion," she said, as he his hand remained resting on her arm.

"Perhaps – if you'll join me for a drink," he said, indicating his now empty tankard.

But Lily shook her head.

"I need to get ready for the ball – don't you? It starts at seven o'clock. Will you excuse me?" she asked, rising to her feet.

Maximilian did the same, nodding to her with a smile, as Lily bid him a good afternoon and left the taproom, promising to see him again later at the ball. As she passed behind the counter to the doors up to the rooms, the landlord tutted.

"Don't get involved with him, Miss Porter – you'll regret it," he said, and Lily smiled.

"Oh, I won't be the only one," she replied, and leaving the landlord with a confused expression on his face, she made her way upstairs.

He'll certainly be sorry, she thought to herself, as now she sat down at the writing desk by the window and began to detail everything she had learned that morning and afternoon.