Chapter 9

Hide and Seek

"Whilst I'm waiting for you to finish your correspondence, I believe I shall help myself to a scotch." Fred arrived early; most likely to imbibe in Martin's scotch.

"If you would buy a case from John, you could have your own bar filled with good scotch. I see no reason why you fail to do so."

"It would not be nearly as fun as drinking your scotch." Fred sat down on the overstuffed couch across from Martin's desk when Mr. Rogers entered. "My lord, Mr. Stewart is here and would like an audience."

He had hoped to keep this bit from Fred. He could not send Frank away. "Please have Mr. Stewart come in." Martin tried to avoid Fred's glances.

Fred sat up. "What is this, Martin? What is amiss? Is there some trouble you have not shared?" Damn, this was not something he wished to share with Fred; alas, he was here and so was Frank Stewart, so he would have to deal with Fred's harassing later.

Frank entered the study. "Good evening, Frank. There must be something amiss. Sit down and share." He indicated the chair across from him, as he had early this morning.

"There is definitely something amiss, my lord. I had one of my men watch the McDonnell house and something strange happened when a coach arrived at the house at approximately 10:30 a.m."

Martin glanced over at Fred to see him shaking his head. "What happened? There is nothing strange about someone calling on the family."

"There were two young ladies that went into the McDonnell house. My man found out later that the coach belonged to Lord Maxwell. Approximately one hour later four ladies exited the house and entered the coach. They went to the back entrance of the new modiste's boutique at No. 77 Piccadilly. As the four ladies entered the back entrance, my man noticed a rather suspicious looking man that walked to the back entrance, attempted to open the door, indeed opened it, peeked in, then closed the door and walked to the end of the alley."

"Alright, so the man was suspicious."

"When the ladies left, some hours later, the same man, in a hackney, followed the coach to the McDonnell townhouse. My man reported to me right before I came here. The suspicious man was still there. He seemed to be hiding along the side of the house directly across the street. I sent my man immediately back to the McDonnell house."

This incited Martin's ire. "What the deuce. Did this interloper take notice of your employee?"

"Not at all. My men are the best. I'm so glad that this man was spotted. So now I have a third man watching the McDonnell house. If this man leaves, the third man has been ordered to follow him. I very much want to uncover this man and find out who has hired him to watch the house."

"Good work, Frank. Do what you need. My concern for the McDonnell family has only increased."

"I appreciate your concern. It has heightened my concern as well. Why would some homeless-looking man be watching the McDonnell home? I don't know the answer now; I promise you that I will uncover who this scoundrel is and who hired him. Now, would you have me question this man or allow him to continue in order to obtain more information?"

Fred stood, walked over the desk, stood between Frank and Martin. "If I may make a suggestion. If this scum, as I think that description is apt, if he goes to Mr. Trenchmouth's office, take him when he comes out. If he only continues to watch the house and the comings and goings, unless your man is spotted, I would suggest to continue to watch him. Sooner or later he must report to someone."

Frank chuckled. "Trenchmouth – I think that is appropriate. His office is on the first floor, facing the front of 107 Cheapside. I made an arrangement with a surveyor whose office is across from Trenchmouth's. The surveyor is rarely in his office. I followed him home. He had no clients today. He never left until closing time. He did send out several missives. If I can get my hands on them, I will do that in order to find out who he might be sending so much correspondence to with no clients."

"This is getting more convoluted than I ever dreamed." Martin rubbed his chin. "I'm becoming increasingly concerned."

"And rightly so, my lord. I will keep you abreast. If I need more men, do I have your permission to hire them?"

"Most certainly." Martin let out a long breath. "It is impossible for me to do anything until I know what we are up against."

"I understand." Frank sat there, looking at Martin.

"You said that the four ladies went to some address on Piccadilly?"

"Yes, let me look at my notes to give you the correct address." He looked through some paper. "I think I mentioned it earlier, if you want to write it down, it was No. 77 Piccadilly. The boutique is owned by Madam Green. She has taken on this new modiste. This new modiste's name is Miss Christopher."

Martin was making his own notes. "And you said that the coach that transported the four ladies was owned by Lord Maxwell?"

"Yes, my lord. He has a daughter. Her name ... wait." He flipped through his notes. "Her name is Margaret. Margaret Maxwell. I'm unsure who the woman that came to the McDonnell's with Lady Margaret was; when they left the house, there was a very pretty lady with...well, the lady was beautiful, if I may be honest. The other lady was ebony skinned. Evidently, she lives in the McDonnell house. She was dressed as a lady, so she is not a servant."

Martin looked up at Fred. "So that is what the coachman meant when he said Miss Morgan could only do so much. His comment makes sense to me now."

"This is getting more dire than we ever suspected when we began this adventure." Fred turned from the desk and began to pace.

"Thank you, Frank. If anything– anything at all transpires that is concerning to you, please come to me. The time of the day or night makes not one whit of difference at all. Understand?"

"I do, my lord. I will make my leave. I have a Trenchmouth to watch." He laughed. "I love it. How apropos."

"Good night, Frank." He reached for the bell on his desk. Mr. Rogers came in. "Please see Mr. Stewart out. And Mr. Rogers, allow Mr. Stewart entre, regardless of the time." "Yes, my lord." Mr. Rogers turned to Mr. Stewart. "If you will follow me." And out they both went.

Fred walked back over to the desk. "Good God, this is getting serious. There is nothing amusing about any of this. I know what is on your mind." He looked directly at Martin. "You are worried about Lady Apparition. I understand. I am too – now." He sat down in the chair across from Martin. "What made you hire Stewart and his men?"

"Something was not making any sense to me. I guess you could say, I had a feeling. I have no idea. I fear for her and her family."

"Compliments to your perspicacity. It is time we away. Don't be late for your meeting with Blackwood and Aubyn. We best head to Venus."

"I'm curious to hear if they uncovered anything." Martin stood and put on his topcoat. "We had best away."

As Martin and Fred walked toward the card room, Martin noticed the same bar wench from the other evening. "Miss, would you bring a bottle of your best scotch with four glasses and take it to Lord Blackwood's table?"

"I will, my lord. Would you like anything else?" She had her eyes on Martin's lower anatomy, reaching, as if she was going to help herself to a handful of his cock.

"That really is not a good idea. Bring the scotch. Thank you." The two walked on to the card room.

"They are getting a bit too brazen. What the hell possessed her?" Fred gave a bit of a sneer. "Well, she does seem frisky. I wonder if she snores?"

Martin raised his thumb over his shoulder, toward the wench. "You could ask her if she snores before you attempt to rent her time."

"I'm going to check with her later." Fred turn back to get another look. "I want to sit in on this. I hope Lords Blackwood and Aubyn have some information."

"It is my hope as well. It is getting more than concerning, and I have yet to meet Lady Apparition or her family." They saw Blackwood and Aubyn sitting at a corner table. "Good evening gentlemen. I have already ordered the bribe for the four of us. Do you know Lord Fredrick?"

"Yes, I have spoken with you a time or two in parliament." Lord Blackwood did not get up; he extended his arm for a handshake.

"I don't believe we have been formally introduced. Good to meet you, Lord...?" "This is Lord Fredrick Windham, Lord Aubyn."

"Yes. I knew your father. Fine man." Aubyn politely acknowledged.

"Yes, he was. Thank you." Fred missed his parents.

"Sit down you two. I'm getting a neck cramp from looking up at the two of you." Blackwood complained. "God, I swear, this younger generation is getting taller and taller. I guess that really bothers you, Aubyn." Blackwood slapped him on the back. Aubyn gave him a frown. "Now, don't get upset. It is not your fault you are short. You should be angry with your parents." Blackwood and Aubyn constantly nettled each other.

"Well, I'm short and my hair is thinning, but I did not marry a witch." Now Aubyn chuckled.

"That is not funny. Perhaps I should have her visit with you for a while."

Martin interrupted. "You two sound like an old married couple."

"Oh, please." Blackwood thought for a moment. "Although he would most assuredly be easier to live with than that...that thing I share a dwelling with."

"Could we please move on to the topic of my concern?" Aubyn had obviously had enough of the sparing. "I thought

you ordered the scotch, my mountain man."

"I did. Same wench from the other night." Martin bemoaned.

"She tried to grab his cock." Fred thought that was amusing.

"Well, Martin. You acted so frigid toward her the other night; she must have decided to feel for herself if the rumors were true." Blackwood slapped both his palms down on the table. "What do you think Aubyn? You saw her the other night. She was wanting to be bedded down with that mountain."

"Could we talk about the McDonnell estate...please."

"What is this about ‘rumors that are true'?" Fred let out a ‘phew'. "Perhaps she would be interested in taking a look at mine. It is very impressive, if I say so myself."

"Christ, can we talk about something else? I did not come here to discuss the male…" Martin shook his head in frustration, groping for a word. "parts!"

The three had a good laugh at Martin's expense.

"Sorry, Martin. Like I said, we should have such a problem. I guarantee I would not be saddled with the cobra if I had such an asset." He slapped his hands on the table again. "So, now we will discuss the McDonnell family." He took a deep breath. "I have little information to share." He looked around. "Where the hell is the bar wench? I'm getting parched."

"I will go track her down. You continue with your conversation." Fred stood and was walking toward the bar in the other room when the bar wench was coming around the corner. "I was sent to look for you. The gentlemen at the table are dry."

"Yes, my lord. They had to go to the cellar to get the scotch Lord Claymont and Lord Blackwood prefer." She looked a bit flustered.

"And what of me? Have you no knowledge of my preferences?"

"Lord Windham. Yes, I have heard of your preference. I would be more than happy to take care of your preference, if you have time later. I would be available."

"I will have to consider that." They walked together as they entered the card room. "You don't snore, do you?" She gave him the strangest look.

"Damn, woman. We come here to drink, play cards, and meet with friends. In that exact order. Bring the bottle and glasses. I'm parched." Demanded Blackwood.

Again, she placed all the glasses, poured the scotch, and rubbed herself all over each of the gentlemen, until she got to Fred. "I hope you can stay, my lord. I can do more than take care of your preference." She reached down and put her hand on his cock. "Oh, yes. I will be happy to take care of you." Then she swaggered off.

"Bloody hell. I know she is a doxy. It would be nice for the woman to try to be a bit more enticing." Fred moved his chair in closer to the table. "So what did you find out?"

Blackwood gave a sigh, then leaned forward. "The one thing I did get was that this – Trenchard has no reputation among the barristers, what so ever. Both Aubyn and I spoke with every barrister that was present at each of the four Inns of Court in London. Aubyn took Lincoln's Inn and the Inner Temple. I took the Middle Temple, and Gray's Inn."

Aubyn wished to explain further. "Every barrister I spoke with knew Lord McDonnell well; none recommended the solicitor in question. In fact, only one or two that had even heard of this Trenchard person. There was only one barrister that knew him; he had nothing to say about him, bad or good."

"My story is basically the same." Blackwood looked at Aubyn. "I think we should make another round into our self-assigned Inns. Tomorrow we can include the library and the dining hall. What does your schedule look like for tomorrow?"

Aubyn was thinking. "I am meeting with the committee on improving housing in the rookery. I could check the libraries and dining halls tomorrow by approximately two o'clock. That should work out."

"Good idea, Aubyn. Yes, we should be able to get that done on the morrow."

"I think you two are lying, trying to get me to come here and buy you more scotch." Martin let out a chortle. "Seriously, do you want to meet again tomorrow or wait until the next day?"

Fred poked Martin. "Remember the Seymour ball is Friday."

"I guess we better meet here again tomorrow." Martin reached over and poured himself another shot of scotch.

Muriel had received a note yesterday from Margaret, inviting her to come to her townhouse as her dance master was arriving today and Margaret knew Muriel would want to be up-to-date on the latest dances. Muriel eagerly accepted. She had been at the country estate so long. She wanted to learn all the most popular dances and was quite sure there were a few that might have been introduced last season. There was always a new dance. She did not wish to be ignorant of the newer ones. That was, if she would be able to go. She was so hoping this issue with Mr. Trenchard would be easily remedied, the invoices with a list of charges could be paid, and most importantly, the help would be paid. That upset her terribly. Papa would be mortified.

Muriel would learn the dances and forget about the problems for a few hours. It was Margaret's dance master and Margaret invited her. Rosa was willing to go and play the pianoforte. At least when the payments were caught up, she would know the dances. And learning the new dances would be so much fun. And it was time for some enjoyment.

"You love Margaret's piano and I will enjoy learning the new dances. It will be a few hours of entertainment."

Rosa turned her nose up. Muriel stood by the piano and listened to her play. It hurt her to see Rosa's life in a kind of limbo. She was smart, very loving, and lovely. She was not accepted by the aristocracy and could never live the role of a servant. She was unsure if she could ever be hired to work as a governess. She was so smart; she could teach almost anything to anyone. Muriel constantly assured Rosa that she would never have to worry about employment. Papa had left money for both Amina and Rosa. "Remember, Margaret told you that her father purchased the newest and most beautiful sounding pianoforte. "

"I'm aware. Remember last year when we went over for a luncheon and I played the piano for hours. I was hypnotized by the sound." She stopped playing and wiped her hands down her dress. Her hands were not dirty. For many years, Muriel noticed that Rosa would make that little movement before and after she played. A habit. "I will go for I'm in love with her pianoforte."

"I think you look lovely." Muriel watched Rosa as she struggled with her hair. "I know how you are. You are going to change clothes, right?" Muriel knew Rosa always wanted to look her very best when she stepped outside.

"Well, I won't be able to unless you come with me." They had no lady's maid. Muriel was going to hire one to share with Rosa. The financial situation curbed that decision.

"Then we must get you changed so we will be on time for the dance master."

As the coach pulled up to the portico at Margaret's lavish townhouse, Muriel thought how nice it would be to have a portico. "I'm excited, Rosa. I hope there are new dances for me to learn."

"I'm excited as well. I can't wait to put my fingers on those keys."

Jimmy opened the cabin door, knocked down the step and helped both ladies out of the coach. "I'm going back to Summer's Day, and will return within two hours. I will sit out here until you two are ready to return home."

"Thank you, Jimmy." Rosa always made sure to thank the help for anything and everything they did for her – for them. She was always quiet, yet so very thoughtful.

"Come, Rosa. I hear a pianoforte calling your name."

As soon as they got to the front door, the butler, Mr. Newton opened the door. He was so stiff. Never smiled. Never showed any emotion. She understood that butlers were to have a certain amount of formality; it made her happy that Mr. Sanders could be funny, loving, or whatever the mood called for. He was more like a part of the family. So many other families hired and lost their help while the McDonnell family had staff that stayed with the family for years. Retired from service. Grew up and graduated from a lower level positions to an integral roles in the functioning of the family. Like Jimmy. He was quite young when Papa hired him to clean the mews. Cleaning the mews is a hard job. Stalls must be cleaned out daily. The horses must be fed; watered. Jimmy had worked hard and now he is the coachman.

"Good day." He said over his shoulder. Muriel wanted to punch him in the nose. The man was so rude. If he worked for the McDonnell family, he would have been fired. Of course, he would never have been hired by the McDonnells.

Muriel and Rosa followed Mr. Boardback into the music room. Margaret was standing with a rather petite man with black hair that was slicked-back with something that looked like wax or grease. As the two walked closer to Margaret and the dance master, Muriel could smell something sweet in the air. It was not any fragrance that Margaret ever wore. It was very strong. "Margaret. We made it." Muriel was tickled at the look of her dance master. "I'm so happy to be here." She stepped aside for Margaret to welcome Rosa.

"Rosa, you look beautiful in that color of yellow. Very pale–not too much. We should get you more dresses in that color." Margaret had grown to love Rosa through the years.

Rosa looked to the pianoforte. "I have come to play the music for the dance master. I thought you would prefer music to counting, 1–2–3–4."

Margaret hugged Rosa and kissed her on the cheek. "Absolutely. Thank you for that. Mr. Teeter, I would like for you to meet two of my very best friends. Our pianist for today is Miss Morgan." He took her hand and bowed over it. "And this is an extra student for the next hour or so, Lady Muriel McDonnell." Again, he took Muriel's hand and bowed over it. Muriel could always evaluate a person by their behavior toward Rosa. He was nice.

"I'm sooo thrilled to have a pianist. The music makes the dance come to life. Miss Morgan, I have sheet music. Can you read music?"

"Most certainly. If you would be so kind as to hand the music to me." Rosa was polite yet sounded very professional.

"So the steps I'm going to teach you today are to the Duchess of York's Waltz . ‘Tis most beautiful. Exquisite. Miss Morgan, can you play a few bars for the ladies to get the rhythm, if you would be so kind." So Rosa began to play the music. Mr. Teeter told them the waltz was in 3/8 time which meant nothing to either of them. Then he took Margaret's hand and began to walk her through the steps.

Margaret was frustrating Mr. Teeter as she was slow to pick up the steps. Muriel stayed behind them. She moved through the steps while Mr. Teeter was working with Margaret. Muriel picked up the steps rather quickly. Suddenly, Mr. Teeter stops and stomps his foot. "You are not getting it. Why are you not getting it?"

Muriel stepped forward. "Mr. Teeter, would you go through the steps with me and let Lady Margaret stand behind me and follow. Might we try that. Then I think if I could dance with her next, I'm sure she will do well."

Mr. Teeter flicked his hand and he stepped away and walked toward the piano. "If you think it will help." Margaret rolled her eyes. Muriel put up a finger as to say, ‘wait.' Mr. Teeter took a deep breath, then walked back and took Muriel's hand. "Miss Morgan, if you would be so kind." The music began again. As Muriel danced with Mr. Teeter, Margaret followed behind.

After some time of their dancing, suddenly Margaret shouted. "I have it! I have it." So Mr. Teeter and Muriel stopped and Margaret took Muriel's place.

After a few measures, Mr. Teeter said. "Finally." They danced together through the entire waltz. Mr. Teeter was ready to move on to the next piece of music. At the end of the lesson, they had spent two hours learning two dances. Mr. Teeter was not asked to stay for tea and seemed relieved to leave.

"These dances all seem the same. Go in a circle, big circle, little circle, he goes around me, I go around him. Bow–curtsey. Same dance. I have been reading about this waltz from France which the English are deeming risqué. I want to learn that dance. At least we might be able to touch each other. Would that not be nice?" Margaret complained even though, from what Muriel could recall, she danced more than either Muriel or Helen.

"Margaret, you must remember, England is a bit staid. You must accept that or move to France or even, Italy. I would love to go there. Rosa and I have done much research on that country. It sounds wonderful. Does it not, Rosa?"

"Yes. Perhaps, one day we will go there Muriel. And Margaret, you could join us. The people seem to be a bit more comfortable in their skin."

"Rosa, what does that mean?" Margaret furrowed her brow.

"Well, let me think. It means...they are not so...no...they are not so stiff collared. Coxcombs."

"Aaah." Was Margaret's response as she nodded her head.. Rosa and Muriel both knew Margaret still did not understand.

"Thank you so much for allowing us to take part in your dancing lesson." Muriel was beginning their exit.

"Mr. Teeter is an odd sort, is he not?" Rosa interjected. "I can't imagine attempting to learn those silly steps without music."

"Yes, you are so right. You must come the next time our dear Mr. Teeter returns for another lesson." Margaret preferred it.

"I will come to play your pianoforte any time you ask. I so enjoy that piano."

"Father had this one made with specifications that he said are unlike any of the others in England. I'm curious about his rationale for such a special piano as none of us play. Silly, is it not?"

"I guess some parents have desires for things they wanted when they were younger. So they pay or go and have someone build whatever it is that they dreamed of having."

"Muriel, are you ready to leave? I think Jimmy has been sitting out in the coach waiting for us. It's getting too cold to sit."

"Oh, I hate for you both to go." The three stood. "I understand." She walked them to the foyer.

"Muriel, have you thought anymore about going this Friday?"

"I told you; I shan't spend the money on gee-gaws when there are other things that the house needs."

Margaret took Muriel's hand. "You know that I will give you anything you need. Anything you or Rosa might even want. Tell me." She smiled at Muriel, shook her arm. "I would do anything for you. You know I have money. I wish you would let me buy you a gown. I want you to go with me on Friday. Mama would want me to buy you a gown. Mama and Lady McDonnell have been best of friends forever."

Muriel dropped her hand, kissed Margaret on the cheek. "I love you Margaret, and no, you don't need to buy me a gown. I will miss this ball; perhaps I will be able to attend the next one. You never know."

Margaret walked to Rosa and hugged her. "Thank you for making the dance lesson tolerable."

"Any time, my friend."

Mr. Boardback finally came to the foyer to open the front door. Muriel and Rosa made it out the door while Margaret stepped out to watch them get into the coach. "Please think about what I said!" Margaret called out.

As Jimmy assisted the two into the cabin, he mentioned. "There has been a strange looking man standing around this house. It was as if he was watching it."

"That is not good. Perhaps I should run back in to tell her?"

"That might be a good idea, Lady Muriel. Let me help you back out." Jimmy assisted her down. "What did this man look like?"

"Well, he was not so tall, broad, dirty-looking. He was certainly not of the peerage."

"Alright, I shan't be a minute." She ran back to the front door and used the door knocker. Mr. Boardback finally came to the door.

"Oh, Lady Muriel. May I help you?" Muriel thought the man was terribly rude.

"Yes, I will see Lady Margaret, now please."

"Well." He rather huffed. "I will see if she is in." Muriel shook her head.

"I will come in, Mr. Boa–Mr. Newton. I believe I know the way to her bedchamber, thank you." Boardback was not happy –he was lazy and so obnoxious. Muriel ran up the stairs and called to her. "Margaret!"

By the time Muriel got to the second floor, Margaret was walking toward her. "You decided to stay?"

"May I say that Mr. Boardback is incredibly rude." She was frustrated; it was more important that she had to remember why she came back in. "Jimmy, you know Jimmy." Margaret nodded. "Well, he said there has been a man standing around your house."

"What? What was he doing? This is a residency. No solicitors are allowed."

"Jimmy said he is not tall, broad, scruffy-looking. I thought I should come back in and tell you."

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Muriel. You are a dear."

"I must go. Come see me!"