We cooked, we ate and we talked. We also drank, far too much for my resolution to keep the future to myself. I woke the next morning with a hangover and that cold itch between my shoulder blades and the memory of telling Garrick about woks, microwaves and burgers. On the other hand, I was still there to have a headache and the itch, so that was a plus.
Garrick also looked a trifle heavy-eyed at breakfast and neither of us seemed to mind Lucian’s usual brooding silence over his first cups of coffee. He did not say anything about what he had been doing the previous evening and we did not reveal the shocking fact that I had peeled potatoes while comparing take-away food provision then and in the twenty first century. Garrick was still having trouble getting his head around the concept of the telephone, but I didn’t want to explain too much in case he decided to invent it early.
Eventually, having waited patiently through Lucian’s third cup of coffee, I judged him ready to communicate.
‘What is the etiquette for a tea party with young ladies?’ I asked.
‘I have no idea, I do not attend them.’
‘I suppose not. Should I take flowers or confectionary or a gift of some kind for the hostess?’
‘Unnecessary.’ He was definite about that at least. ‘You will need an afternoon gown, which I assume Garrick has ordered, and jewels that are more modest than the diamonds. Pearls, amber, that kind of thing. I’ll find you something. Then you go and gossip and drink tea for several hours.’
‘Or, in this case, interrogate,’ I said, spreading raspberry jam on toast. ‘I shall be quite open about the fact that Arabella has been abducted and has not eloped. After all, they are her friends, so they should want to help. I will pick their brains and promise not to reveal anything to their own discredit.’
Lucian nodded and reached for the ham. I pushed the platter towards him. ‘Did you have a pleasant dinner last night?’
‘Awkward. Cottingham was there. But it was interesting because some of the older ladies got hold of him after dinner and started asking him about Miss Trenton and all the rumours they were hearing. I found myself a comfortable corner and listened without him noticing me, I believe.’ Lucian buttered bread, then cut into his ham.
‘Well?’ I demanded. He didn’t go to a courtesan, just to a friend’s house, I thought, and bit my lip to keep my smile under control.
‘I think the stra
in is getting to him. He was rambling on about her purity and beauty and innocence and how he does not want her marrying for at least a Season to preserve that purity. It was all a bit embarrassing, to be honest.’
‘Absolutely cringe-making,’ I agreed with a shudder. ‘What’s with the purity stuff? Isn’t there an expectation that all the young ladies on the Marriage Mart are virgins?’
It was taking less time now for Lucian to process my lapses into slang and my frank references to sexuality. He nodded. ‘Yes, of course. But it was more almost… religious. It must be the anxiety. He will have a brain storm or a nervous collapse if this goes on much longer.’
‘I think it sounds very odd indeed. If I was him I would be worrying that she has been raped, that she is terrified and captive, not go wittering on about purity. That sounds like a saint, almost, like you said, religious – not some flesh and blood young woman.’ It reminded me more of the hypocrisy of the Victorians than what I had assumed was the more rational realism of the Georgians, but no doubt that was very simplistic of me. ‘I am glad we haven’t told him about what actually happened that night, it might send him over the edge into a breakdown.’
I was driven to Lady Henrietta Fanshawe’s house without any escort other than Garrick sitting up beside the driver. It seemed ridiculous to borrow a maid just to go to a tea party.
‘Miss Lawrence.’ Lady Henrietta got up from a sofa where she was already surrounded by young women. I just hoped she hadn’t warned them that I was a threatening bully who would drag out all their naughty secrets. ‘Cousin Clement explained and I am sorry I was so… difficult before when we spoke. We all want to help.’
There was a murmur of agreement and decisive nods from the others, so she introduced me and we all sat down again.
‘Let me make a plan of who is sitting where so I make sure I remember all your names correctly.’ I took out a notebook and pencil that Lucian had given me and looked up to find them staring at me like mesmerised rabbits. ‘This is just to help me, I promise. I will only use information that is strictly relevant and I will not make public who told me.’ Those of us investigating were not public, and I was certainly going to tell them, but I suspected that the idea of four men hearing their stories, and one of them a valet, would not go down well.
They relaxed a little but they were still silent. ‘Look, I will ask questions – will that help? Yes? What did Arabella tell you about Sir Clement? I am asking this with his permission.’
‘That she loved him and wanted to marry him.’ I checked my diagram. A Miss Frogmore, an intelligent-looking brunette. ‘Her brother did not approve, but she said she would wait for however long it took, even if it was the seven years until she was twenty five.’
‘Why until then?’
‘Lord Cottingham is her guardian until then, or until she marries with his permission.’
‘Were any other men courting her?’
‘Lord Welney,’ Henrietta reminded me.
‘Yes – and while I think of it, I had better warn you about his technique.’ I explained about the invitations to his racy parties and his way of checking for “suitable” brides. Henrietta went scarlet and the others gasped in outrage.
‘I do not think he was very serious about Arabella,’ Miss Frogmore said. ‘He was the same with all of us – those of us with any expectations of money, that is. But what an absolute beast to tempt and tease and then condemn anyone who took up his invitations.’
‘What about the younger men? Was there someone who you thought was attracted to her, someone she turned down or who might have felt they had to take drastic action or lose her?’
There was a chorus of No and a lot of shaken heads.