Chapter 10

Shopping

Martin got up early, took care of the paperwork, wrote a few letters to his stewards and managers, then dressed to meet Fred for their daily ride. He was having difficulty concentrating as his mind keep wandering to Lady Apparition and her family. So, to date, no one had any damning information on Mr. Trenchard. There had to be something; some reason for someone to be watching the McDonnell townhouse. Martin had a strong suspicion that it had to do with the solicitor. Without proof, their hands were tied.

He did not see Frank Stewart last night; Martin received a missive from him reporting that Monday morning, he followed Mr. Trenchmouth (it seems Frank had adopted Fred's sobriquet), from his flat to his office with nothing remarkable occurring. Frank also noted that Trenchmouth had no clients that day. It was his thought to intercept one or two of the solicitor's notes to get a better idea of what his was doing. So far, it did not appear that he was doing any legal work.

Zeus was pawing at the ground and snorting. "Alright Zeus, I will make sure you get a workout today. Will that make you happy?"

Fred came riding up. "Now I know you are losing your mind. Talking to Zeus? Does he answer you?"

"Of course he does. We have long conversations. Often about you. Zeus wonders why we have to ride with you and that horse of yours that belongs behind a swing plough."

"Oh, he does. Well, Zeus, my ‘swing plough' and I will take you on, any time you feel your tired ole bones can handle it." They stared at each other for a moment. Both horses were quality horses. Both had come from Fredrick's horse and stud from close to Newmarket.

"Where to this morning. Does not appear that we are headed in the direction of the park." Fred suspected it had something to do with Lady Apparition.

"Since we seem to be going in the general direction, what would you think about riding the horses to Piccadilly?" Martin rather tossed out rather matter-of-factly.

"Traffic will be sparse if we go early. What is it we would be going to Piccadilly for?"

"I need to go shopping."

"Shopping?" Fred gave a loud, "Phew!" He snickered. "Shopping? What the hell for? Shopping?"

"Yes, damnit, shopping."

"Men don't ‘shop'." He kept looking at Martin, waiting for an explanation.

"I am. I need to purchase a few things for someone." Martin would not look at Fred. He continued looking straight ahead.

"Martin, you have Lost. Your. Mind." Martin continued to ignore Fred. "Does this ‘shopping' have anything to do with an apparition? One apparition that can't afford a ball gown?"

"Honestly, This is none of your business." He was contemplating whether to try and explain. "I want this Lady Apparition close. Now, I have been thinking –"

"Oh, no – not that!"

"Please, Fredrick." Martin sat up a bit more in his saddle. "As I was saying, if I want Lady Apparition close, how would I go about doing that?"

"I know, purchase a ball gown. Oh, I see it all now perfectly. Fred threw a handy up in Martin's direction. "What the hell, Martin?"

"If she can go to the ball, then I can meet her. If I can meet her, perhaps I could, very possibly...I'm unsure...I could perhaps court her. And I want to hear nothing – no insolent remarks, please."

"Martin, you are my best friend. We have known each other since we were in leading-strings. I have never heard you speak with so much absurdity. You don't even know this lady. I'm beginning to seriously worry about your sanity. Remember, duck, donkey, fish? You have no idea. Worse than talking like a duck or laughing like a donkey or smelling like a fish; what if she all she talks about is the weather and the latest fashions? You would go mad." Martin said nothing. Fred decided to continue his warning. "I understand you hiring Frank. It makes sense, you have the money and this whole thing with Mr. Trenchmouth does sound most bizarre, I understand that." He scratched his head. "Martin, purchasing her clothes? That is a bit on the personal side. Honestly, on the extremely personal side. Did you ever buy clothes for any of your mistresses?"

"Of course not. I gave them money. What they bought was of no consequence to me. Fred, she is a lady – a lady , Fred. Not a mistress. Not a potential mistress." They rode a bit further. "Could we please speak of other things."

"Alright. Hmm. Have you ever met a lady that talked like a duck? Laughed like a donkey? Oh, or smelled like a fish. Dreadful."

"I believe that would be one of your light skirts." Martin gave Fred a ‘touché' look. "You wound me."

Martin pulled his timepiece out of his waistcoat pocket. "Do those modistes open early?"

"Martin, how the hell would I know?" He thought. "It is a business on Piccadilly. I would think they would be open along with all the other businesses around there."

Martin snapped his fingers. "What about that coffeehouse on Old Bond Street. What is the name of that place?"

Fred's lip curled up on one side. "Old Bond Street."

"Yes, Old Bond Street."

"Old Bond Street, Martin." Fred's voice raised, then he began to laugh.

"What the deuce Fred? What the hell is the name of the coffeehouse on Old Bond Street."

"Martin," he laughed. "The name of the coffeehouse is Old Bond Street."

"Damn, Fredrick. Why did you not simply say so?"

"Martin, I did – several times."

"Hmm. What of the coffeehouse on Strand. I know it is not called Strand. It is something like; Salty, Seasoning –"

" The Savory." Fred answered rather flatly as he rolled his eyes.

"Yes– The Savory . It is very close to that modiste. Frank said she was at No. 77 Piccadilly." He gave a look to Fred. "You should remember, you were there when Frank came in with the report on the stranger tailing Lady Apparition and her friend, Miss Morgan. I need to ask Frank to find out more about Miss Morgan."

"What would be your reasoning for that?"

"Miss Morgan seems to always be with Lady Apparition. I'm only curious–what is the relationship between the two?" It was a rhetorical question. "I meant to send Frank a missive regarding that question."

"You think the Miss Morgan may be complicit?"

"No, no. I'm only curious . She is not a servant. She appears to be more of a companion. I like to collect as much information as possible before I make any attempt to keep the family from losing everything Lord McDonnell worked for and attempt to keep them safe."

"Here is The Savory. We can go in, get something warm to drink. They have a delicious variety of pastries as well."

"They have very good grooms to care for the horses and carriages. I don't like to be concerned about Zeus when I'm spending time and money in someone's establishment."

"I think this is the place." Martin noticed the address, then saw dresses in the display window. Martin had remembered what Frank told him. The dress shop was owned by a Madame Green. Miss Christopher was working there and was building her own clientele.

Martin decided to leave the horses in front of the shop. Fred and he dismounted, then tied the horses to a post between the modiste and the haberdashery which was right next door. "Are you coming in? I noticed you eying the haberdashery. Go ahead, if you prefer. I will come find you when I have completed my mission."

Fred walked toward the haberdashery while Martin walked into the dress shop. He removed his hat and stood, looking around as he waited for someone to regard him. If someone did not come within seconds, he would go to the back of the store and find someone. After the discovery, he would castigate whoever for ignoring the patrons that paid their wages. Of course, the peerage, in general, was not a patient lot. Martin was no exception. As he walked toward the back, someone appeared.

A round little red head with a pleasant visage approached him. "Apologies, my lord. I'm at your service." She gave him a nice curtsey. "How may I help?" She had such a friendly face, he had to smile back at her. She gave a little giggle. Martin thought that curious.

"Whom am I speaking?" Martin needed to speak with the new modiste, Miss Christopher. "My name is Miss Christopher my lord." She had a little cherub face. She giggled again.

"You had a lady come to this shop yesterday. Came in through the alley entrance. She came in with Lady Margaret Maxwell."

"I'm sorry, my lord, there were three other ladies that accompanied Lady Margaret."

"She was a beautiful young lady with–"

"Oh, yes, her name...her name...Muriel, yes. Beautiful young lady. I measured her and her friend, Miss Morgan; they did not order anything." She smiled up at Martin. "My lord, you are very tall."

"Yes, so I have heard." He pulled his gloves off. "I want ball gowns designed for the Lady Muriel."

"Yes my lord. I can do that for you. I have a large selection of colors and materials to choose from. What did you have in mind?"

"She would likely look beautiful in any color. Surely, you discussed colors with her."

"I did, in fact, discuss that with her. Golds, sky blues, mauves. I have some pastels with small patterns around the skirt. Some colors that would be very pretty with a pale overlay of the same color. I do think she would look lovely in anything."

"Yes, well, I want dresses with very striking designs, petticoats, if applicable, chemises, stockings, and slippers. Do they make them with a heel?"

"Yes, my lord. They do. It would behoove her to wear a shoe with a bit of height." She giggled, walked to a table, and picked up a pad and writing implement. "How many gowns would you want to order?"

"I think I would like three or four to start. If I'm pleased, I will likely order five or six more. And I want to order two dresses for Miss Morgan. I want them to look smart. Perhaps even one ball gown for her as well."

"Yes, my lord." He could see her getting more excited and more nervous, the more he spoke about what he wanted. "It will take me approximately one week to make two gowns for Lady Muriel and about that long for the dresses that will be for Miss Morgan."

"I think I heard you say you would have them done by Thursday?"

"Y–Ye - , my lord, that is in two days. I'm not–" She giggled once more. Martin surmised it was a nervous habit.

"I will pay you handsomely. I want three ball gowns for Lady Muriel and two dresses for Miss Morgan. If I approve, I will order many more gowns for Lady Muriel. And, as I said, more dresses and one ball gown for Miss Morgan."

"Yes, my lord. I understand."

"I have one more stipulation and your future success will hinge on you being able to accomplish this."

"Accomplish what, my lord?" Martin could see she was confused.

"You are to tell no one – no one, no one – who purchased the dresses. I'm most adamant about that. I am the Marquess of Stafford. If I told people not to patronize your shop, you would be closed within weeks. If I'm happy with our agreement, I can pass your name around through channels that would make you a very wealthy modiste." He thought he was done. "If she comes to inquire, tell her what you will. Someone placed the order by letter with money enclosed. Anything as long has she is never aware who purchased the dresses." He was putting his gloves back on. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then we are finished here." Martin was anxious to leave before someone he knew recognized him.

"Oh, my lord. Where am I to send the dresses?"

"No. 72 Park Street. Lady Muriel McDonnell. And Miss Morgan, as well. Do you need money now?"

"No, my lord." She giggled.

"I will either return on Friday or send someone to pay you for your service. Make sure Lady Muriel has everything she needs."

"Yes, my lord. I certainly will." He was exiting through the door as she craned her neck to say. "Thank you, my – "

Martin and Fred were in Martin's coach, riding to Venus, for the fourth time in a week. "I won't say that I don't enjoy Venus, only I'm beginning to think we should let a room." Fred was being humorous, Martin hoped.

"I think tonight will be our last visit of the week. I'm weary of the place myself. It would be nice to enjoy an evening at a fine restaurant or even stay home with the four horsemen and place chess."

"That does sound nice. Why do we not do that? I will send missives to John and Henry. We can meet at your townhouse. I can bring another board. You furnish the scotch and the food. It sounds grand." Fred was being most generous??

"My scotch, my food, and my home." And Fred is not one whit embarrassed with volunteering Martin. "You are too kind."

"Alright then, I will bring another chess board."

The coach came to a stop in front of Venus, and Marvin, the coachman, opened the coach door for Martin and Fred to step down. "I will be returning home tonight so stay,."

"Yes, my lord."

The two walked into the cardroom to see Blackwood and Aubyn were sitting at their regular table. "Good evening, my lords." Martin pulled a chair out and sat down. Fred followed his lead. "Have you played cards tonight?" Martin inquired.

"Aubyn played a bit tonight. Won, which is most unusual. He is usually a gull." Blackwood looked over Martin and nodded as he slammed his hands on the table and laughed.

"At least they don't laugh when I sit down at the table to play. They call you a dupe." Blackwood abruptly stopped his laughter and glared at Aubyn.

"As much as I regret having to intrude in this tete-a-tete, I would like to inquire about your second sweep of the barristers' complex. Anything, at all?"

"I have come up with naught. I regret to say, there are none from all those I have spoken to that know anything of this solicitor. Sorry, son. It might be wise to set this aside until McDonnell's bookkeeper has reviewed the books." It appeared that Aubyn felt it was time to move on. Martin was not prepared to do that. Not now.

"No scotch? Claymont, I regret that it is most difficult to focus without something to entice the palate." Blackwood was attempting at subtly. Most unusual for him.

"Where is the masseuse? She must have found a ‘dupe' for herself. Fred, would you do the honors?" Martin preferred to stay with the two lords. He would not wish to have another encounter with the bar wench.

"I shall go. I can live without drink, unlike some." Aubyn smiled down at Blackwood as he walked to the bar.

The three continued discussing what had transpired with Mr. Stewart's investigation until, finally, Blackwood had another outburst. He slammed his hands down on the table. "What the hell has happened to Aubyn? Chances are, they are unable to see him. He is not even as tall as the bar top." Blackwood laughed.

"Fred, would you mind doing the honors? If you see Aubyn, kindly direct him back to the table."

"Yes, my lord." Fred chortled as he walked toward the bar.

"Lord Blackwood, were you able to speak with anyone regarding the solicitor?"

"I was able to speak with someone that knew something; the barrister, Mr. James Ackroyd, earlier today, only it was very brief. He was in the library when I approached him. We exchanged rather rushed pleasantries, then I asked him if he had any knowledge of a solicitor by the name of Trenchard. He was unable to speak with me. He had a family emergency. He was in an extreme hurry. I followed him. He said he had no time. He had been delivered a message that his father was deathly ill and he had to make haste. He was almost running. I asked if he could at least tell me if he knew him. He said yes; he would contact me when he returned to Town."

"So at this point, we still know nothing." Martin ran his hand down his face in frustration. They might never obtain anything significant on this solicitor.

"Yes and no." Blackwood wanted to explain. "I have known Ackroyd for decades. If he had nothing to expound on, he would have given me a quick answer. ‘he was acceptable,' ‘he did good work,' ‘he was' whatever. Ackroyd did not say anything like that. He said he would contact me when he returned. What that tells me is Ackroyd has something of some import to share. That is not something he would be able to respond to in one sentence. That in itself is telling. What exactly it is? I would not even speculate. My concern is how long Ackroyd will be out of Town."

"Yes. It is disappointing. Particularly when it appears that he does have some insight on this man." So far, they had very few puzzle pieces. Not even enough information to make an educated guess. With some unsavory character following the family and watching the house and Frank having found nothing on Trenchard, he felt helpless.

"Claymont, don't give up. Hold on until your investigator finds something or Mr. Ackroyd returns. I know you, like your father, you want to fix things, make them right." Blackwood slapped his hands on the table. Something he had a habit of doing. "So where the hell is the scotch?"

About that time, Fred came into view with a bottle of scotch in his hand, his hair askew, and his fall was buttoned incorrectly. "I must say, she certainly did know my preference. Damn."

Martin turned to look up at him. "Uh, Fred." He pointed to Fred's fall. "Your buttons."

"Bloody hell. I was lucky to get out of there with my life. That wench has a real talent." He put the bottle on the table in front of Martin and attempted to right his fall.

"I fear asking you to fetch glasses. You, at long last, return in a state of dishabille and Lord Aubyn has yet to return." Martin chuckled. "I will go for glasses; if I fail to return, someone come and save me." He laughed to himself.

It was a bit more brisk this particular morning. Martin had business to take care of; he needed this morning ride. Zeus always looked forward to it and he would not be in Town to ride tomorrow. He was working with Zeus when Fred rode up. "It is windy this morn. We best start before the wind gets the best of us." Martin had much to do and wanted to discuss the next two days before he had to leave.

"Was I to send notes to John and Henry or were you? Sadly, I can't recall. I think last night the bar wench addled my brain."

"You can't blame your addled brain on that woman. Although I have heard rumors about that area of the anatomy being the source of a man's brain." Martin turned to give him a look.

Fred gave him a "pshaw. I have never heard of that, yet I can see where there could be some logic to it." Fred continued the joke .

"I'm going to be out of town until Friday. Regardless of how things go, I will return before the Seymour ball begins."

"So where are you going this time? If you are going to Suffolk, I would go along. I thoroughly enjoyed the house party that the Dowager Countess Aletha held. She was, in all respects, very happy to have me there. And she does not snore."

"Fred, I care not one whit about your sexual escapades. I'm going to Kent. Mr. Whitebread is going to expand his brewery. He wants to move it to Kent, or at least start another brewery there."

"And what would be the advantage of moving from London? It is the largest city in England. It has the aristocracy here. The money is here."

"He is not moving the brewery out of London, he is expanding."

"What does he see as the advantages?"

"There are many. Kent has a mild climate and rich soil which are conducive for growing hops and barley. There are springs and wells that have the water for brewing a quality beer. If he wanted to expand in London, the land alone would be cost prohibitive. Land in Kent continues to be affordable." Martin had done a great deal of research on the area of Kent. There were advantages to moving several of his businesses to Kent.

"You have done a great deal of research on this. What is the rationale?" Fred knew Martin would not bother unless there was a monetary consideration.

"First, Whitebread may need a partner to expand. I know the area, I have the money, and I have a history with the Whitebread family. I think it could be advantageous for both of us."

"I wish you well. Now, when are you going?"

"I'm going to travel after we have had our ride. And, as I said, I hope to be back late Thursday or sometime Friday. I will be in Town for the ball. I'm most anxious to see what Lady Apparition wears."

"Have you notified Frank you will be gone? You might have him see me while you are away. Did you hear from him last night? We stayed at Venus, fairly late."

"I'm glad you mentioned Frank. I think I will give him your address in my absence, if an immediate decision would be required. He did come to the house while we were gone. He left a message with Mr. Sanders. He wanted to report that Mr. Trenchard had no notes or messages that went out and he had no one to come to his flat after he returned home. The man must have no friends or acquaintances to speak of." Martin wondered why the man never had guests; no visitors; no family to enjoy after closing his office.

"I can speak with Frank. I may hire him for a job myself. My numbers are not adding up on the property I own in Hampshire. And, since you will be gone, would you like me to go by the modiste's shop and pay her for what she has completed? I can make sure the gowns have gone out, as well."

"I would hate for you to have to do that. I imagine it will be rather costly." And Martin did expect the price to be much higher with his request for the best silks and the requirement for delivery being only two days.

"I shan't worry about the receipt. I'm sure you would want that paid close to the time of delivery."

"Thank you, Fred." The wind had gotten stronger. "I think we should turn back...Oh, and I think you assigned yourself the task of sending Henry and John notes on a chess night. I'm glad you failed to do that. We can review the possibility when I return."

"It is fine. As you said, we can rethink it later."