Chapter Five

I t felt as though his head had only just hit the pillow before the pounding at the front door forced him awake. Somewhere below one of the servants opened the door, and he heard distorted voices drift up through the floorboards. Even without being able to hear the words he knew who it was that had deigned to pay a visit so early in the morning.

With a groan he sat up. For five years his father had refused to speak to him. From the moment he found out about Henry’s intended marriage to Anne, a woman of a much lower social class, Lord Burwell had met with his only son once, to warn him off the marriage, and then no more. When it became apparent Henry was going to go through with the union—with or without his father’s blessing—Lord Burwell had cut him off. Henry had been married for four years and not once had his father broken his vow to cut Henry out of his life. Even after Anne’s death, his father had remained silent, choosing his frosty displeasure over sending any sort of condolences to his heir.

It had only been in the last few months Henry had looked to repair the relationship. His father was a narrow-minded, pompous man who did not have many redeeming features, but Henry had been forced to admit that, in one way at least, his father had been right. A marriage between two people of vastly different classes could not work out.

Right now, having had only three hours of sleep, he couldn’t bear to face the man, but he hauled himself up out of bed all the same, quickly pulling on his trousers and a shirt that was draped over the back of a chair. His father would not think twice about bursting into his bedroom uninvited if Henry did not meet him downstairs.

‘Good morning, Father,’ he said, running a hand through his hair as he descended the stairs. ‘Do come up.’

He was currently living in a set of modest rented rooms. His home was upstairs and another young gentleman, recently graduated from Oxford and trying to make his fortune like so many others in London, lived downstairs. They shared one entrance, as well as a maid and a footman, who also fulfilled the role of valet as needed.

‘Did you choose a wife?’ Lord Burwell asked once they’d ascended, throwing himself down in an armchair in Henry’s sitting room without being invited.

‘Excuse me?’

‘The Shrewsbury ball last night. I hear it was well attended, despite half of London having retired to the countryside for the summer. The Gough girl was there, and the Tattership daughter. Both are very wealthy and have impeccable bloodlines.’

‘I spoke to Miss Tattership,’ Henry said, recalling the insipid young woman who had struggled to step out of her mother’s shadow.

‘You spoke to her? God’s blood boy, sometimes I despair that you will ever marry. You need to do more than speak to her.’

Henry raised an eyebrow, but did not remind his father he had already been married for four years. Lord Burwell would not acknowledge Henry’s union with Anne, and it was too early in the morning to get into such an argument.

‘I am in no hurry, Father.’

‘You might not be, but my years on this earth are limited. I want to see my bloodline secured before I shuffle off towards the grave.’

Henry knew his father was in excellent health—there was no concern that he was shuffling off towards the grave any time soon. It was just another method the old man employed to manipulate him.

‘I agreed I would start to look for a wife, Father. I have started that process. I attended the Shrewsbury ball last night, and tomorrow I am going to the opera. Ask around, the eligible young women of London are aware of my intentions. I have upheld my end of the bargain, now it is time for you to uphold yours.’

‘You want to see her,’ Lord Burwell said, his voice dropping low.

‘Yes.’

His father curled up his lip and sneered. ‘Present to me a suitable woman who has agreed to marry you, then you can see her.’

‘That wasn’t our agreement.’ Desperately he tried to keep his temper from rising to the surface. His father did not respond well when he was challenged, and over the years Henry had learned it was foolish to make the man angry. He would never deign to see someone else’s point of view, never admit he was wrong. Instead, Henry had learned to find other ways to get what he wanted.

‘You say you went to the Shrewsbury ball to look for a wife, but for all I know you could have spent the whole evening at the card tables.’

‘I did not.’

Lord Burwell shrugged. ‘Bring me a fiancée and you can see your sister. Until then, she will remain shielded from your unsuitable influence.’

Sophia had been nine years old when he had seen her last, a lovely little girl who was inquisitive and kind. Now she was fourteen, and Henry often wondered how much his sister remembered him. During the years his father had refused any contact, it was the loss of a relationship with Sophia that Henry had regretted the most. He’d been all too aware that she was growing up secluded from the world, her only role model their father. As he had slowly emerged from his grief and shock after his late wife’s death, it had been Sophia his thoughts had turned to, and it had been the reason he’d reached out to his father all those months ago. The crafty old fox had seen how much Henry wanted to rekindle a relationship with his sister, using it to cajole and manipulate his son into finally doing what he wanted.

Lord Burwell clapped his hands together and stood, looking around him, taking in the simple dwelling and cheap furnishings.

‘You should return home to One Grosvenor Square,’ Lord Burwell said. ‘It is not fitting for my son to live in lodgings such as these.’

Henry shuddered at the idea of being completely under his father’s control, as he would be if he returned to the family home.

‘People expect the son of an Earl to have his own rooms,’ Henry said, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. He wouldn’t ask for more money, it was hard enough to take the small stipend his father gave him every month, but without any other source of income at the moment his hand was forced.

Lord Burwell grunted. Without another word, he stood and walked to the door.

‘Farewell, Father.’

He watched the older man from his window, allowing his body to sag once the carriage had rolled away, disappearing around the corner.

After a visit from his father he always felt battered and bruised. This time had not been terrible, but he had been reminded of how much he had lost, and how much his father still withheld from him.

Carefully he checked his reflection in the mirror. Later he would refocus his energies on finding a bride his father would deem suitable, who he could tolerate well enough for a lifetime spent together, but right now he had a promise to fulfil.

Sarah had seen the carriage draw up outside and was down the stairs and out the front door before Lord Routledge could approach. She did not want her landlady opening the door to him and appraising him in the suspicious way she looked at anyone of the opposite sex.

‘Good morning, Miss Shepherd, I trust it is not too early for a trip out?’

‘Every second is precious if I am to find Selina before I have to return to Kent,’ she said quickly. ‘Thank you for keeping your promise.’

She felt his eyes on her and suddenly she felt self-conscious. Today she wasn’t looking her best. It had been a late night and, even once she had slipped into bed, she had found it hard to sleep. Her mind had been racing with thoughts of all that had happened, as well as worries about her sister.

‘Shall we be on our way?’

He held out a hand to assist her into the carriage as if she were a grand lady, ensuring she was settled on her seat before hopping up and sitting opposite her. The carriage lurched off almost immediately, rocking slightly as they picked up speed over the cobbles.

Sarah looked around her, trying not to let her mouth fall open. The carriage was unlike anything she had ever been in before. On her trip to London she had taken the stagecoach, but that had been a very different experience, squashed inside with seven other people. This was luxurious by comparison.

‘It is a bit tatty, I apologise,’ Lord Routledge said, following the direction of her gaze.

‘Tatty?’

‘Yes. It isn’t mine, at least not really. My dear friend Lord Shrewsbury gave me the use of it when his wife insisted on a new one. Even the horses are his.’

‘That is generous,’ Sarah said, reaching out and touching the velvet that lined the walls.

‘He is a generous man. He is one of the wealthiest people in the country, which of course makes it easier to be magnanimous with one’s fortune, but I think it is just in his character. I suspect even if he was down to the last two coins he would insist on sharing.’ Lord Routledge stared out of the window absently for half a minute, then turned back to her. ‘He is kind too, and I am sure will have no objection to you speaking to the maid you wish to question.’

‘You will not tell him I broke into his house?’

Lord Routledge grinned. ‘Not yet.’

‘Not yet?’

‘Once you are far away from London, teaching Beethoven to those little children in Kent, I can’t see the harm in sharing the story with him.’

Sarah closed her eyes. Lord Routledge was right, and it wasn’t as if she would ever cross paths with someone like Lord Shrewsbury ever again, but just the thought of someone else knowing how she had so recklessly broken the law was mortifying.

The journey that had taken well over an hour on foot was much quicker in the carriage, and in no time at all they were rolling to a stop in front of Shrewsbury House.

It looked even more magnificent in the daylight. It was a large building with a white facade and columns spaced at regular intervals. The whole house was immaculate from the outside, from the paintwork to the flowers and shrubs that grew in the pots that flanked the door.

A flutter of nerves started in her stomach, working its way up until she felt flushed and a little breathless as they stepped from the carriage and approached the house.

‘I will explain everything to Lord and Lady Shrewsbury,’ Lord Routledge said. ‘And in no time at all you will have your answers from Agnes Pepper.’

He knocked on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a footman who bowed deeply.

‘Please come into the drawing room, Lord Routledge, I shall let Lord Shrewsbury know you are here. Who shall I say accompanies you?’

‘This is Miss Shepherd. Thank you, Jacobs.’

The footman showed them into the drawing room, and Sarah had to remind herself not to gawp. If she had thought the carriage was plush this was even more so. The room was airy and large, with gilded mirrors at either end, giving it the appearance of going on for ever. Two windows looked out onto the street, allowing the late-morning light to flood into the room. A piano stood at one end, and beautifully upholstered chairs were set in a horseshoe configuration at the other.

Sarah’s eye was immediately dawn to the piano. It was a magnificent instrument, polished so it shone, reflecting the rays of sunlight from the windows. She longed to trail her fingers across the keys and to hear the depth of sound from such an instrument.

They were not kept waiting long before the door opened and an elegant woman a little older than Sarah entered. Everything about her was perfect, from how the silk of her skirt rippled as she walked, to the intricate way her hair had been pinned. A broad smile broke onto her face when she saw Lord Routledge, which made her look even more radiant.

‘Henry darling, I am so pleased you...’ she began, the words trailing off as she saw Sarah. She recovered quickly. ‘Forgive me, Lord Routledge, I did not know we had company.’

‘This is Miss Shepherd. Miss Shepherd, it is my pleasure to introduce simply the best woman in London, Lady Shrewsbury.’

‘Are you flirting with my wife again, you reprobate?’ Lord Shrewsbury asked as he lumbered into the room.

‘We have a guest, my dear,’ Lady Shrewsbury said quietly to her husband whilst smiling at Sarah. ‘Miss Shepherd.’

‘Miss Shepherd, pleasure to meet you,’ Lord Shrewsbury said, unabashedly looking her up and down. ‘Do I know your people?’

She had to suppress a smile at the question. Perhaps wasn’t going to be an acceptable answer, not when she didn’t want to declare herself illegitimate to the whole world.

‘Sometimes I wonder how you survive, Shrewsbury,’ Lord Routledge said, shaking his head. ‘No, you don’t know her people. Miss Shepherd is an orphan.’

‘Ah.’

The Shrewsburys regarded her with interest, and for a moment they all just stood looking at one another.

‘I have a favour to ask, on behalf of Miss Shepherd.’ Lord Routledge flopped down onto one of the chairs as if it were his own home. Lady Shrewsbury motioned for Sarah to take a seat as well, before choosing one herself.

‘Miss Shepherd needs to talk to one of your maids. Agnes Pepper.’

The request took Lord and Lady Shrewsbury by surprise.

‘May I enquire what this is about?’ Lady Shrewsbury asked with a frown.

‘Miss Shepherd’s sister is missing. She thinks Agnes Pepper might know something of her whereabouts.’

‘You came to the house a few days ago,’ Lady Shrewsbury said, her eyes narrowing a fraction.

‘Yes, my lady,’ Sarah said, trying to sit confidently in her seat. ‘As Lord Routledge says I am very worried about my sister. She has disappeared and I know she spoke to Agnes Pepper before her disappearance. I am most eager to find out what they discussed, and hopefully this will lead to finding out what happened to my sister.’

‘What a worrying time for you,’ Lord Shrewsbury murmured.

‘If you would excuse us for a moment, Miss Shepherd,’ Lady Shrewsbury said, standing. She flashed a look at the two gentlemen who stood and followed her from the room.

Sarah felt her heart sink, wondering if Lady Shrewsbury would refuse to help, or worse, if somehow they knew she had broken into their house the night before and were sending for the authorities. In any other circumstance she would have considered running, but the information Agnes Pepper had might lead her to her sister, and she couldn’t jeopardise her chance of finding out where she was.

‘Are you unwell, Henry?’ Lady Shrewsbury asked, laying a hand on his forehead.

‘Leave the man alone,’ Lord Shrewsbury commanded, pushing gently past his wife. ‘Clearly he’s smitten. Who is she?’

Henry closed his eyes. ‘I am neither unwell nor smitten. I am merely trying to do a good deed for a young woman who is distraught over the disappearance of her sister.’

‘You’re too kind, too good,’ Lady Shrewsbury said with a sigh. ‘People see that and take advantage.’

‘No one is taking advantage.’ Henry felt a ripple of irritation. Lord and Lady Shrewsbury were his closest friends. Over the last few years they had seen him at his worst, and never faltered in their support or love. However, after the heartbreak he had suffered, sometimes they treated him as though he were fragile, something to be protected.

‘She is pretty. Lovely eyes. And a good figure. Not too skinny,’ Lord Shrewsbury mused.

‘Thomas,’ his wife scolded. ‘You shouldn’t be looking.’

‘I’m not passing judgement, but I have eyes in my head. All I’m doing is making an honest observation. The girl is pretty.’

‘I hadn’t noticed,’ Henry lied. Miss Shepherd was attractive, with those sharp, green eyes and her thick brown hair. It was her smile that transformed her face though. When she could be coaxed into smiling or laughing, she looked radiant.

‘How do you know her?’ Lady Shrewsbury stepped closer, taking on the role of interrogator.

‘I met her in the street outside.’

‘In the street? Oh, Henry, as I said, you are too good, too na?ve.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I am nothing of the sort.’

‘No, the man is not na?ve, my dear,’ Lord Shrewsbury said quietly. ‘A hopeless romantic, yes, but he is aware of the ways of the world.’

‘What is the harm in bringing Miss Shepherd here to ask your maid a few questions? You can sit in, ensure nothing inappropriate occurs, and then Miss Shepherd will be on her way.’

‘You have no obligation to her beyond bringing her here?’

‘None at all. My good deed will be done, and we can all move on.’

Lord and Lady Shrewsbury exchanged a meaningful look, but to Henry’s relief they both nodded.

‘I shall go and fetch Agnes from her duties.’

‘Thank you.’

He watched as Lady Shrewsbury left the room.

‘I would apologise, but she is only protective of you because she loves you,’ Lord Shrewsbury said.

‘There is nothing to apologise for. I have always been thankful for the friendship of you both.’

They were silent for a moment before Lord Shrewsbury spoke again. ‘Did you meet anyone last night who you might be interested in courting?’

Henry sighed. ‘No, but I confess I did not try very hard. I know it is what I must do to satisfy my father and try to build the bridge between us, but I hate the idea of marrying again.’

‘It would not have to be like last time.’

‘I know. I am not a lovesick, optimistic fool any longer. This time I will be more practical in choosing a wife. I suppose any of the coming season’s debutantes will do.’

Lord Shrewsbury looked at him sadly. ‘I never used to be a romantic. Although you know that changed when I met Louisa. I do not think you need someone you are madly in love with when you marry, love can grow and develop in all sorts of ways, but I do think it important you feel something for your future wife. That might be friendship or respect, but choosing a wife based on a list of criteria, as your father would have you do, is not going to make for a happy union.’

Henry shook his head. ‘He did give me a list you know, said my judgement wasn’t to be trusted after last time. He wrote down which families she could be from, the minimum dowry I would accept and even reminded me that he had final say on whether the woman I chose was suitable.’

‘You should cut him off Henry. He can’t disinherit you entirely, you will be the next Earl of Burwell. Most of the property is entailed.’

‘I don’t care about any of that. I care about Sophia.’

Lord Shrewsbury fell silent. There was nothing he could say in argument there.

‘I do not wish to marry again, but if it means I get to see my little sister, to ensure that man we call our father is not making her life an utter misery, then it is something I need to do. I acted selfishly when I married Anne, and look where that got me.’

‘Following one’s heart is not acting selfishly.’

‘I was self-indulgent. My father was not the only one with misgivings about our relationship, although he was the only one to react quite so terribly.’

Their conversation was cut short by Lady Shrewsbury re-entering the room with a scared young maid following her.

‘This is Agnes Pepper. Shall we take her to Miss Shepherd?’

‘Thank you.’

Next door Miss Shepherd was standing close to the piano. He had noticed her interest in it as soon as they had entered the room, and now she was examining the instrument without touching it. She jumped a little as everyone entered, quickly returning to her seat.

‘This is Agnes. Agnes, Miss Shepherd has some questions she would like to ask you about her sister. You are not in any sort of trouble, so answer truthfully.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

The maid was in her mid-twenties, with coppery hair that twisted in tight curls as it sprung from her head. Despite the numerous pins used to try to hold it in place, Agnes’s hair looked as though it could not be tamed. She was tall and hunched her shoulders, likely thinking the action made her seem smaller.

‘Go ahead, Miss Shepherd, ask your questions.’

‘Good morning, Agnes,’ Miss Shepherd said, smiling softly at the maid. ‘Thank you for talking to me this morning. I have come to London to look for my sister, Miss Selina Shepherd.’

Agnes nodded.

‘From her letters I understand she was planning on coming to see you.’

‘She did. She caught me when I went out on my afternoon off. I was going home to visit my ma, and she asked if she could walk with me.’

‘What did she ask you?’

‘She wanted to know about her father. She said she was trying to find him and she had come across my name in an old letter. I think she was a bit disappointed when she saw me, she kept saying I was too young, that she must have got the wrong Agnes Pepper.’

‘Were you able to tell her anything?’

‘No, Miss. I said I was very sorry, but I didn’t know anything about her father. She asked me where I had worked before I came here to work for Lord and Lady Shrewsbury and I told her that I’d only had one previous position, as a maid in Mr and Mrs Warner’s household.’

‘Did she say anything else? Or ask you anything else?’

‘She asked me if I was named after anyone, but I told her I was the first Agnes in my family. She thanked me for talking to her and then she left.’

‘She didn’t say where she was going next?’

‘No. I’m sorry Miss. She seemed like a nice girl.’

‘She is a nice girl,’ Miss Shepherd murmured. ‘Thank you, Agnes. Perhaps I could write my address down, and if you remember anything else, anything at all, you will know where to contact me.’

Agnes looked quickly at Lady Shrewsbury, who nodded, and directed Miss Shepherd to the small writing desk in the corner of the room. Once the piece of paper was handed over, Agnes bobbed a curtsey and left.

‘I am sorry this visit was not of more use,’ Lady Shrewsbury said. ‘I wish you the best of luck in finding your sister.’

‘Thank you.’ Miss Shepherd looked as though she was about to burst into tears. She gave hurried thanks and bid Lord and Lady Shrewsbury good day. As she rushed outside, Henry had to take the steps two at a time to keep up.