On her way downstairs the next morning, Ariel walked past the open door of her mother’s former bedchamber. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she stepped inside, puzzled. Prospero lounged magnificently on the coverlet of the huge four-poster bed. “You shouldn’t be in here,” Ariel said. “Come down to the kitchen. We’ll get you something to eat.” Prospero had charmed Ellen and Hannah from the day of their arrival, and there was no problem finding tidbits.
The cat ignored her. He stretched himself out at full length, extending his front claws luxuriously, and yawned.
“You’ll leave fur all over that silk,” said Ariel, reaching for him.
Rolling quickly over, he slipped from her grasp. Finding himself at the front corner of the great bed, he fixed his attention on one of its posts. This massive carved timber, six inches square, rose to the low ceiling. Bess had wanted a bed to match her old house, and she had convinced one of her noble friends to part with this relic of an earlier age.
Rising up on his hind legs, Prospero sank his front claws into the thickest part of the post, which was carved into small panels with a rosette in the middle of each side, and began to sharpen them on the iron-hard old wood.
“Don’t do that!” cried Ariel. She grabbed for him again.
Prospero evaded her fingers, gazed at her with his great golden eyes, and enthusiastically returned to the post. Ariel heard the click of his claws on the wood.
“What’s the matter with you?” she said. “Come here.” She took him firmly around the middle to pick him up, but at that moment, one of the cat’s claws caught in a crack. He tugged to free it, and one side of the bedpost opened like a tiny door, revealing a hidden cavity stuffed with papers. Prospero mewed in surprise and sprang to the floor. Ariel stood staring at her mother’s secret hiding place. “The bed,” she murmured. “I should have thought of that.”
Ariel had always believed that her mother had some cache in the house where she hid papers and valuables. It was the sort of thing Bess would do. She had delighted in secrets, and she had never trusted banks or any other institutions. But search as she might, Ariel hadn’t been able to find the hiding place. She’d been over the house from top to bottom. She had gone through every box and drawer. She had emptied each wardrobe in the attic and the wine bin in the cellar. She had even tapped on the paneled walls and floors looking for concealed hollows. She had tried to follow her mother’s likely thought processes, and deduce the place from there. But although she felt certain the cache was in Bess’s bedchamber somewhere, it continued to elude her, and she had more or less given up hunting. Now here it was, open before her.
She reached up and pulled one sheaf of papers from the cavity, and then another. The hollow was surprisingly large, extending up into the post for a foot or more. By the time she had emptied it, a small pile of rolled and folded paper lay on the bed, some of it looking years old. After pushing her arm into the bedpost and feeling around to make sure nothing else was there, Ariel pushed the tiny door almost closed, and then sat on the bed to look through what she had found.
She started with the largest bundle, tied with red ribbon. This turned out to be documents associated with the house, some of which Bess’s man of business had been asking for; Ariel was pleased and relieved to find them. Setting these aside, she unfolded a larger parchment. It was a legal document recording a loan of three thousand pounds that Bess had made to a woman named Flora Jennings. In the top left-hand corner, Bess had written “sold ruby.”
Ariel stared at it in amazement. This was a huge sum of money, given to someone she had never once heard her mother mention. Bess had been generous with small sums, even careless sometimes, but she did not part with amounts like this. Ariel examined the document more closely. The address listed for Flora Jennings was in a very poor part of town—an area where three thousand pounds would be a fortune. It wouldn’t be sneezed at anywhere in London, Ariel thought, frowning at the page. Why would Bess have lent this much?
Setting the parchment aside, she opened another. This one was the deed to a house in the same area as the Jennings address. It also had the notation “sold ruby” written in the corner. Why would Bess have parted with this fabulous jewel for such purposes? Ariel wondered. Why would she have wished to own a house in a back slum?
Utterly bewildered, she put the deed with the loan document and continued her examination. Many of the other papers were letters. Scanning them quickly, Ariel grew embarrassed. Her mother had kept expressions of affection from many of the noblemen with whom she had formed connections over the years, revealing a sentimental streak that seemed at odds with Ariel’s memories. Or had she kept them as a kind of insurance? Ariel was certain Bess would never have stooped to blackmail, but she would not have hesitated to expose secrets in order to protect herself.
Stacking the letters in a single pile, she put them back inside the bedpost, gathering the remaining documents to take to her own room. When she had set them on her desk and was sorting those to go to the solicitor from the others, she stopped suddenly and closed her fists, overcome by a sadness so deep it was frightening. Was she really never to see her mother again? Was Bess to disappear forever in a fog of mysteries and secrets?
Moments passed in a dark blankness. Ariel groped in it, trying to find her way. She couldn’t just stay in the house, she thought finally. The walls were beginning to close in on her. She was starting to feel helpless. She needed to do something. Her eyes fell on the documents before her on the desk. She would visit this Flora Jennings, she decided, and ask her point-blank why Bess had lent her such a huge amount of money.
This resolve made her feel better, but only for a moment. She couldn’t go into that part of town alone. And she couldn’t ask Lord Alan Gresham, who had been her escort on other perilous forays, to accompany her. She couldn’t even think of him, in fact, without becoming furious and confused. On the one hand, he insisted that there was no such thing as love and that he had no interest in romantic encounters. On the other, he kissed her until she could barely stand. He helped her and abandoned her, encouraged and criticized her, leaving her totally uncertain what would happen from one moment to the next. He was intolerable!
But who would take his place? No one could, an inner voice insisted. Ariel dropped the papers onto her writing desk, and stood looking at the floor. She would go mad if she did nothing.
And then she remembered that Lord Sebastian Gresham owed her some service. She had given him a splendid plan for winning his Lady Georgina. She would send a note round asking him to escort her.
The note was duly written and dispatched, and it received a prompt reply. But instead of Lord Sebastian, it fetched his brother Robert. “Sebastian had duty this afternoon,” Ariel was told. “He couldn’t get away, so he sent me.” Lord Robert looked extremely curious. “What’s this about a plan of campaign for winning the Stane girl?”
“Did you come in a carriage?” Ariel asked.
“Rode over,” he replied.
“Then we will need a hack.” She began to tie the strings of her bonnet under her chin.
“Where are we going?”
Ariel eyed him. “There is a call I must make,” she answered. “And it is not in the… best part of town.”
“Down in the City?” he wondered. “Solicitor or something like that?”
“Not exactly.”
“Where then?” Lord Robert inquired.
Reluctantly, she told him.
“That can’t be right. That’s in a back slum, ain’t it?”
“It isn’t the best of neighborhoods,” Ariel temporized. “But I must go there.”
“I don’t know…”
“I’ll tell you all about the plan of campaign I suggested to Lord Sebastian,” she offered.
“Well, but…”
“It is imperative that I visit that address,” she declared. “That is why I asked for your escort.”
Lord Robert looked torn between doubt, gratification, and reluctance. “Why ain’t Alan taking you?” he asked, then frowned. “Has he forbidden you to go? Because if he has, I won’t have anything to—”
“He has not,” declared Ariel. “Will you come, or shall I go without you?”
“Where is he then?” responded Lord Robert stubbornly.
“Busy with his own affairs, I suppose.” Inspired, she added, “He always has a great deal to do.”
“That’s true.” He considered. “You’ll tell the whole story—about Sebastian—if I escort you?”
Ariel nodded.
“Well… all right. Is it true he really means to tie the knot this time?”
She nodded again.
“So what did you tell him?” he prompted.
“To ask her questions,” she responded.
“Questions?” he echoed, puzzled.
“To seek her opinion on various matters, to ask her advice,” she elaborated.
Lord Robert looked bewildered.
“It all comes from The Rake Reformed,” she went on. “In that play there is a young woman who is courted by all sorts of gentlemen. All of them tell her how lovely she is and how she has captured their hearts, but none of them cares a whit what she thinks or what she wants in a… a larger sense, beyond a glass of lemonade between sets at a ball.”
“Larger sense,” he repeated, as if he had never heard the two words put together before.
“She has been constantly treated as an empty-headed doll, you see. But the hero of the play truly wishes to know more about her. That is the key, as I told Lord Sebastian. He must be truly interested.”
He looked at her. “You think some scheme from a play will impress an heiress who’s been brought up in the midst of the haut ton?” He shook his head. “It ain’t going to work.”
She smiled. “Let us discuss the matter again in two weeks’ time,” she said. “And then we will see.”
“Huh. I’d give you ten to one odds it don’t work.”
“Five pounds,” Ariel answered. “I’ll bet you five pounds it does work.”
“Females don’t place wagers,” he said, scandalized.
“Are you afraid you’ll lose to a woman?” she wondered.
“I won’t lose.”
“Then we shall consider it settled. Now, can we be on our way?”
Lord Robert shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t know…”
“You are not going to cry off on me now!”
“No, but… Here now, stop that!” He suddenly jumped on one foot, shaking the other in the air.
Startled, Ariel looked down to find that Prospero had materialized in the room and had apparently applied his claws to the shining surface of Lord Robert’s Hessian boots. “No,” she said. “Leave them alone.”
“That animal hates me,” declared her visitor. “Whenever I come here he goes for my boots.”
“Perhaps there is something in the polish used on them that attracts him,” suggested Ariel.
Lord Robert looked dumbfounded. He seemed to be completely at a loss for something to say, and when a knocking sounded from the entryway, he responded, “Someone at the door,” with visible relief.
Ellen was already opening the door, and in a moment Lord Alan Gresham was striding into the front parlor, looking surprised to find one of his brothers there. “Good day,” he said.
As if nothing had happened between them, Ariel thought, her anger flaring up once again. What was it about him that made the room suddenly feel too small, and changed the atmosphere so that it was difficult to catch a breath?
“I need to speak to Miss Harding privately,” he informed Lord Robert.
“Of course.” The latter started toward the door with some eagerness.
“You promised to escort me on my visit,” Ariel reminded him sharply.
“What visit?” asked Lord Alan.
“That doesn’t matter. You must wait for me,” she told Lord Robert. “I’ll only be a moment.”
Lord Robert shuffled his feet. “Er, I…”
“Why don’t you go and speak to Hannah,” Ariel finished.
He brightened slightly at this and hurried from the room.
“What visit?” repeated Lord Alan. “And what is Robert doing here? Was he looking for me? I don’t understand why—”
“You wished to speak to me?” interrupted Ariel icily.
“Ah.” His expression shifted. “Yes. I thought… it seemed to me important that we discuss last night.”
“Really?” Ariel put all the sarcasm she could into the word.
He nodded. “The, er, incident went quite against our agreement, and was… unacceptable.”
“Is that what you would call it?”
“You have my apologies, of course.”
“Do I?” She was something more than angry by this time, Ariel thought, though she wasn’t entirely sure what the muddle of feelings included. She did know that they made her hands tremble.
“Most certainly. My behavior was beyond the line, and completely out of character as well.”
He seemed remarkably undisturbed by the idea, Ariel thought. Indeed, he talked about kissing her until she was limp as if it were some abstract event that had little to do with either of them.
“That is why I have devoted a good deal of time since then to analyzing the occurrence.”
“Analyzing,” echoed Ariel.
“In an attempt to explain it,” he added. “And you will be happy to know that I have found the answer.”
“Have you indeed?” He looked very pleased with himself, she thought, and not the least bit self-conscious in her presence. She, on the other hand, was not only trembling, but felt as if she might shriek or cry at the least provocation.
“Yes. I have concluded that Carlton House is the problem.”
She stared at him. “The house?”
He made a dismissive gesture. “Not the building itself, of course, but the pernicious atmosphere there. Everything about the place works to disturb the balance of the bodily humors, perhaps the very balance of one’s mind. And then one ends up doing things that would be unthinkable anywhere else.”
“So you are saying that you kissed me because of Carlton House?” Ariel felt foolish repeating what he’d said, but she couldn’t quite believe that was what he meant.
“Under the influence of the atmosphere I mentioned,” he agreed. “However, I have solved that problem. I am moving out within the week.” He gazed at her as if he expected congratulations.
Ariel returned his gaze. He was the most intelligent man she had ever encountered, she thought, and he was an idiot. Did he truly believe that this nonsense explained his behavior? And if he did, why did he wish to? She swallowed, suddenly finding the answer to this question all too clear. He didn’t want to take any responsibility or face any consequences. She was forced to swallow again. Her mother had been right after all, Ariel thought. Men wanted to enjoy their pleasures and then go their way. The kisses that had devastated her meant nothing to him—except perhaps the threat of recriminations. And worse still, he refused to admit his own nature—that he was just like other men, after all. This hypocrisy was more despicable than crass seduction.
Ariel took a shaky breath. The realization hurt. It was a sad, sour pain worse than any snub or mockery she had ever endured before. The tightness of her throat increased, bitter with unshed tears.
“So, you see, I have found a solution,” Lord Alan added encouragingly. “I came to tell you that you need have no concern for the future.”
In other words, she was not to expect anything from him, Ariel thought. She was not to think she could make demands or assume any privileged position. She was to keep quiet and go along with his fabrications. Her chin came up. They would see about that. But she certainly wasn’t going to whimper and cling. She wasn’t going to protest that he had made her feel as if her heart had gone empty and vacant. She would make him believe it didn’t matter. “What about the ghost?” she managed. “I thought the prince wanted you on the scene to stop it.”
“Ah. I have good news on that score as well. Michael Heany and two of the other actors from the theater were apprehended last night as they tried to leave for Carlton House. The young woman was already made up as the ‘ghost’ and they had chains and other things with them that proved they had been behind the haunting.”
Ariel drew in a slow breath, making a heroic effort to control her emotions. “So, it’s over then.”
“A very successful investigation,” he agreed.
“And you… I suppose you’ll be going back to Oxford, and your work.” She wasn’t going to see him again, Ariel realized.
For the first time in the visit, Lord Alan looked slightly uncertain. “Well, as to that, I thought I would have my things taken to Langford House.”
She tried to read his expression.
“I need to make certain… to tie up any loose ends. And, of course, I have said I would be of assistance to you.”
“You are going to keep helping me?” wondered Ariel.
“I gave my word,” he replied, as if that settled the matter.
She scanned his face, but could find nothing in it. He had always said he wanted nothing more than to go home to Oxford. If he stayed now, when his task was accomplished… She didn’t allow herself to think what that might mean. She couldn’t afford hope. “I have found some papers of my mother’s,” she said a little breathlessly.
“Really?”
“Yes. Or rather, Prospero found them.”
“Prospero?” He gave her a quizzical look.
“My cat.”
He frowned.
“You’ve seen him about.”
“Never.”
“But you must have. He’s gray, with golden eyes.” Ariel looked around the room, but Prospero had gone.
“I would know if I had seen a cat,” he said. “But the animal’s existence, and indeed why you call him Prospero and how he was able to discover these papers, are all secondary. Did they contain any valuable information?”
“Well, I’m not sure. The most curious thing was that my mother loaned a very large sum of money to a woman I’ve never heard of, who lives in Whitechapel.”
Lord Alan raised his auburn brows.
“I am going to see her and find out about it. I asked Lord Robert to escort me.”
“I’ll take you,” he answered.
Ariel started to agree, then hesitated. He had had everything his own way. He was far too used to giving commands and seeing them obeyed. “You can come along with us, if you like,” she responded coolly.
He looked distinctly taken aback.
“Lord Robert and I have it all arranged,” she lied.
“You prefer the escort of a… a dandified…”
“You are very hard on your brothers,” she declared, pleased with the reaction she’d elicited. Before he could reply, she went out and called down the kitchen stairs to Lord Robert. “I’m ready to go now.”
After a short interval, he emerged, looking apprehensive.
“Lord Alan is coming with us,” Ariel told him brightly. “Perhaps he will find us a hack?” She looked over her shoulder at Lord Alan. He said nothing, merely gave her a little bow and went out.
“If Alan’s going, you don’t need me,” Lord Robert pointed out hopefully.
“Yes, I do.”
“But why?”
“I just do.” Ariel herded him before her out the door and along the pavement toward the hack that his brother now had waiting.
“But—”
“Get in,” said Ariel, giving him a tiny push. Defeated, Lord Robert did so, and she climbed after him, leaving Alan to come last.
It was a silent drive. Lord Robert sulked. Ariel brooded. And Lord Alan gazed out the window of the vehicle as if he hadn’t a concern in the world. His expression did change, however, when the character of the neighborhoods they passed through began to deteriorate. And by the time the hack pulled up at their destination, he was frowning. “You will wait for us as long as necessary,” he told the driver when they had gotten out.
“I don’t know, guv. It’s a bad part of town.”
“There’s a guinea in it if you do,” he added.
“A guinea! Yes, sir. Happy to be of service.”
Ariel looked around the narrow street in which they stood. The broken stones of the pavement were gray; the ramshackle houses that leaned against one another on either side had only the smallest vestiges of paint and their wood was cracked and gray; only grayness was visible through most of the windows; and a gray sky arched over all.
The houses were large, however. Clearly, in some earlier century, this had been a better neighborhood. And the one they had stopped before showed more signs of care than any of the others. It was not painted, but its front steps were swept, and bright curtains could be seen. An oversized lantern hung beside the front door; when lit at night it would obviously provide a beacon in the darkness. On the other side of the entry was a signboard, rather like that at an inn, but smaller. It showed the house number and a picture of a child being admitted through a lighted doorway.
“What the deuce are we doing here?” said Lord Robert.
Still eyeing the sign curiously, Ariel started up the steps.
“Hold on,” said Lord Alan. He moved in front of her and lifted his hand to knock.
There was no response at first, then they heard a clattering sound as the locks on the door were released from inside. It opened to reveal a slender boy of about thirteen dressed in a shirt and breeches of good cloth but no pretensions to fashion. He looked friendly but cautious.
“I would like to see Flora Jennings,” said Ariel.
The boy’s head dipped slightly. “Who’ll I say?” he responded.
“Ariel Harding. Bess Harding’s daughter.”
His lips moved as he repeated this to himself. “Aw-right,” he said and started to push the door shut again. “I’m not allowed to let anyone in till I asks,” he explained apologetically and closed it.
Lord Robert muttered something unintelligible. He was looking up and down the street and fingering his watch chain as if he expected a pickpocket to emerge from the cobblestones and snatch it. “I don’t like this,” he said.
“That boy looked quite harmless,” pointed out Ariel.
“But who’s he fetching?”
The door rattled again. It was opened this time by a woman, who said, “Please, come in,” and stood back to let them pass.
Ariel stepped forward. But Lord Alan was ahead of her, and thus the first to enter a narrow, rather shabby front hall.
Following him Ariel discovered a tall young woman, with black hair and pale skin. She held herself very straight and moved gracefully. Her plain gown of cornflower blue was very well made, fastened at the neck with an antique cameo, and her eyes were the same intense blue as her dress. She did not look at all like a denizen of this poor neighborhood.
“I am Flora Jennings,” she said in a cultivated voice, looking at each of them in turn.
Ariel stepped forward. “Ariel Harding,” she said again. “Bess’s daughter.”
The other woman’s dark brows arched.
“And these are Lord Alan and Lord Robert Gresham.”
This elicited a frown.
“May we speak to you?” continued Ariel.
Miss Jennings hesitated, then gave a little shrug and led them into a parlor to the right of the front door.
Ariel sank onto a worn velvet sofa. The furnishings of the room looked like castoffs from the town houses of the ton—fine pieces past their first prime but still sturdy and serviceable. “What is this place?” she asked.
Flora Jennings had settled opposite, her fine hands crossed in her lap. “It is a refuge for the children of the London streets,” she answered calmly.
Ariel had to let this sink in for a few moments. “The children…” she began, remembering her mother’s story of her own origins.
“The children society has discarded like so much refuse,” said Flora Jennings, and with her words, it became obvious that a fiery spirit burned behind her serene facade. Her blue eyes glowed with it. “The children who are allowed to freeze and starve and be preyed upon by any villain who wishes to exploit them.”
“You give them a home here?” said Ariel.
The other woman looked regretful. “Some live here,” she acknowledged. “But mostly we provide a meal or two, a bed for a night, a place to recover. We do not have room to house them all.” Her tone made it clear that this fact galled her immeasurably.
“My mother was helping you,” Ariel said. Her throat tightened suddenly with the full realization.
Flora Jennings smiled, and her rather austere face lit like stained glass when the sun comes from behind a bank of clouds. “She was a great benefactress. She helped me purchase this house. And she bought another nearby where we make homes for some of the older girls who would otherwise have no option but to…” She raised her chin. “But to sell themselves on the streets,” she finished, looking as if she dared them to be shocked.
“That’s wonderful,” said Ariel. “Why didn’t she ever tell me? I don’t understand.”
Her reaction softened their hostess even further. She relaxed slightly in her chair. “Bess liked secrets, I think. She seemed to delight in the idea that she was doing this and no one knew.”
“She once told me that she grew up on the streets herself,” Ariel confided.
“I know. There was so much she understood. And she was so good talking with the children.”
This opened a whole new vista in her mother’s character, Ariel thought. It made her proud, and yet also roused an ache in her chest. How she would have liked to have known before it was too late to express her admiration.
Lord Alan, who had been silently observing the scene, suddenly said, “You are a connection of my mother’s.”
Their hostess seemed to freeze in her chair. Her delicately sculpted mouth turned down.
“Second cousin, isn’t it? You used to come to Langford House for the holidays years ago.”
With patent reluctance, Flora Jennings nodded.
“Eh?” said Lord Robert, who had been standing like a statue in the corner, keeping one eye on their hackney through the window. “Jennings? You don’t mean that absolutely terrifying female who used to visit us—Aunt Agatha, wasn’t it?” He nodded, pleased with himself for remembering. “That’s it. She was a tartar. Sebastian used to claim she had the evil eye. Say…” Knowledge appeared to dawn as he examined their hostess closely for the first time. “You ain’t her daughter? Wasn’t it you pushed Teddy Raines in the pond when he was bullying one of my brothers? James, I think it was. Do you remember, Alan?”
His brother shook his head.
“What the deuce are you doing in a place like this?” Lord Robert finished.
Miss Jennings’s eyes flamed again. “I am doing something you wouldn’t comprehend,” she snapped. “I am doing good.”
“Well, but—”
“I have rejected the parasitical life you refer to,” she went on. “It is shameful—the waste, the heedlessness—when there are so many in need.”
“I don’t think—”
“Of course you don’t. So-called fashionable society is nothing but a set of brainless idiots,” she declared. “They are like thoroughbred horses—handsome and fast but utterly useless for any practical purposes.”
“Here now.” Lord Robert looked as if something had struck him a sharp blow between the eyes. Ariel heard a snort of laughter from Lord Alan.
“Do you know how many children starve to death in London each year?” Flora continued relentlessly. “Do you know how many are brutalized or killed? Do you have any conception of the hopelessness, the despair?”
“Yes, but… street urchins,” Lord Robert choked out. “They’re filthy, and they steal.”
The contempt in her face intensified. “I wonder how clean you would be if you were forced to live on the streets,” she responded. “They don’t have valets to run their baths, you know.”
Lord Robert was beginning to look angry. “Of course, but—”
“And as for stealing—when your only other choice is to starve, the morality becomes a bit less clear-cut.”
“There are almshouses, charity schools,” he objected.
“Which aid a tiny part of those in need,” Flora countered.
“Dash it, I’ve seen these children you talk about running in packs like wild animals. They rip the purses out of old women’s hands and beat them senseless into the bargain,” he said hotly.
The fire in Flora’s eyes faded to sadness. After a moment, she nodded. “Yes, some of them do that.”
“So they aren’t such little angels,” Lord Robert concluded with satisfaction.
“I never said they were. They are human beings, Lord Robert. And they deserve to be treated accordingly.”
“You do remember us.” He seemed rather pleased at the notion.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“We ain’t so useless, you know,” he added. “Randolph is a preacher up north. James is captain of a navy ship. Nathaniel’s always going on about building a new set of cottages for the tenants at Langford. Alan…” He paused for a moment, perplexed. “Unlocking the secrets of science, and, er, that sort of thing,” he finished, gesturing at his brother.
Lord Alan raised one brow at this tribute.
“And you?” she asked.
“Eh? Oh, well…”
Flora Jennings waited a moment, then turned back to Ariel. Lord Robert eyed her back with startled indignation.
“You must have known Bess Harding rather well,” commented Lord Alan.
Ariel threw him a glance. She had been about to say exactly the same thing.
“We worked together here,” answered Flora Jennings cautiously.
Ariel leaned forward. “I want to know why my mother died,” she said. “Is there anything that you noticed, or that she told you, that might help me?”
The other woman frowned. She didn’t answer at once but appeared to give the question serious consideration. “We talked mainly of the work here,” she said slowly. “She didn’t tell me of the rest of her life.” She paused. “She would get very, very angry at the plight of some of the children we took in. She could be almost… not frightening… but intimidating at times.”
Ariel nodded in understanding.
“She would pace back and forth in this room and call down vengeance on the people who hurt or exploited the children.” Their hostess smiled slightly. “It was terribly dramatic. I remember one little girl told me Bess was as good as a play.”
Meeting her gaze, Ariel smiled back. It all sounded so much like her mother.
“And then at other times, she would fall into the dismals and insist that nothing would ever change, that our efforts were futile.” Flora folded her hands rather tightly together. “That was far worse.”
“Had she been despondent recently?” asked Lord Alan.
Miss Jennings looked at him. She seemed a bit puzzled by this caller, not entirely sure what to think of him. “Bess was always… volatile,” she replied. “One thing one moment, and something else the next. I didn’t notice anything particular. If I had, you may be sure I would have…” She stopped and clenched her jaw for a moment. “I would have done something,” she finished finally. “I would not have sat back and allowed her to…”
The room was silent.
“I’m sorry,” added their hostess after a time. “I would like to help you. But I don’t know any more.”
Ariel nodded. It was the same story she heard from everyone. “I would like to be of help in your work as well,” Ariel replied.
“You won’t recall the loan then?” was the relieved reply. “I was afraid you might have to.”
Ariel shook her head.
“What backing do you have?” asked Lord Alan.
Both women turned to look at him.
“Support from those who could raise money or use influence in your favor,” he explained.
Flora Jennings grimaced. “I don’t have the time, or the stomach, to fawn and beg help from people who don’t care,” she declared.
“There are others in the world who care,” he answered quietly.
Their hostess started to answer, then flushed slightly and said nothing.
“My mother would be most interested in what you are doing,” he added.
“The duchess?” was the startled reply.
“She spends half her time on schemes for educating girls with no money,” Lord Robert informed her with a mixture of triumph and defiance.
Surprised by his vehemence, Ariel looked at him and encountered a smoldering glance.
“She does?”
“I’ll mention your efforts to her,” offered Lord Alan.
Miss Jennings looked torn between gratification and reluctance.
“Or perhaps you don’t want any help,” sneered Lord Robert. “That would prove you were wrong about us.”
Their hostess glared at him. “Not about you,” she snapped.
This was really rather interesting, thought Ariel. They both looked hot-eyed and resentful and very self-conscious. There were things going on under the surface in this room.
“We should be going,” said Lord Alan.
Ariel wanted to protest, but she couldn’t think of a good reason. “I’m sure we will see each other again soon,” she said as she rose.
“I hope so,” replied Flora Jennings much more warmly. When she escorted them to the door, she didn’t look at Lord Robert even once, Ariel noted. He, on the other hand, threw her a number of defiant glances.
“She has a nerve,” he burst out when they were seated in their cab once more. “She as much as called me a brainless ass!”
“A perceptive woman,” commented Lord Alan.
Ariel threw him a repressive glance. “I believe she was speaking in general terms,” she soothed.
“Do you? You didn’t see the way she looked at me when she said it, then. When I think that a chit of”—he paused to calculate, ending up counting on his fingers—“no more than two and twenty would dare to speak to me in that way. It’s beyond anything!”
“She is very committed to her cause.”
“Committed!” He snorted. “Fanatical is more like it. And she seems to think nobody else knows anything. I’ve half a mind to show her that she’s mightily mistaken on that score.”
“Do you?” wondered Ariel. She was fascinated by the effect this woman had had on the usually blasé Lord Robert.
“Yes, I do,” he declared. He straightened in the seat. “In fact, I shall.”
“How?” asked his brother.
This stopped him. “Er… I don’t know, but I shall think of a way.”
“Go and see Aunt Agatha,” Lord Alan suggested jokingly.
“Eh?” He pulled back as if he had threatened him with a weapon.
“Start with first causes,” was the reply. “She has all the background.”
It wasn’t a bad idea at all, thought Ariel. She might have thought of it herself, in another moment.
“I wouldn’t go near her for any money,” said Lord Robert. “She’s dashed terrifying.” He frowned. “Anyway, what good would it do?”
“She would know Miss Jennings’s reasons for doing what she is doing, the basis of her character, how one might, er, impress her,” replied Ariel.
Lord Alan threw her a sidelong glance, then turned back to his brother. He was watching him as if he were an interesting specimen in his laboratory, Ariel noticed. “Of course, older relatives can be difficult,” she added, blithely ignoring her complete lack of experience in this area.
“Difficult!” Lord Robert snorted at the inadequacy of the word.
“I suppose Miss Jennings knows you won’t have the, er, inclination to look into the matter deeply,” she added.
“You’re saying she won’t believe I have the courage to visit Aunt Agatha?”
Ariel wasn’t sure how he had drawn this conclusion from her remarks, but she didn’t contradict him.
His jaw hardened. “Well, she’ll find she’s mistaken there.” He faltered slightly. “You wouldn’t want to come along, would you?”
Ariel was just nodding when Lord Alan put in, “I would.”
Both Ariel and his brother turned to stare at him. He met their gazes blandly.
Lord Robert let out a breath. “She’ll see she was mistaken in me,” he declared, though with a slight catch in his voice.