Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Chapter 15
I changed my mind and decided, after not very much consideration, to shelve the story on the Prince’s financial ruin and instead run with the story of Casper’s ambush.
SHE WILL STEAL YOUR MONEY … AND YOUR HEART
I am reclined, comfortable, and smiling in Papa’s chair, reading my article while sipping coffee, and what an article it is, even if I do say so myself.
But my reading is disturbed when the door of Papa’s study opens and Mama appears, looking glorious in a red dress that will surely be the talk of the square the moment she steps out for her daily promenade in the royal park, which, I know, is her plan. ‘Mama, you look beautiful.’ I smile and stand, approaching and giving her a peck on the cheek. How Papa could desire to seek attention elsewhere when he has the vibrant and dazzling Florence Melrose at home, I do not know, but I am becoming worried about the situation. How might I approach this?
‘Thank you. I have a busy day.’ Oh good, perhaps she won’t notice Papa’s absence. ‘I am to walk with Eliza and Clara, then I will meet Lady Blythe and Lady Tillsbury at the new teashop up in Berkeley Square, and then I must collect my new dress and hat.’
‘Emma cannot collect your dress and hat?’
Mother’s shoulders drop. ‘I’m afraid I must report to you that Emma has left our employment and returned to the countryside.’
I wince on the inside. But of course, Emma, Mama’s maid, is the stable boy’s mother. ‘That’s a shame.’
‘Yes, something about her son being relieved of his duties with Mr Fitzgerald.’
‘Then we must get you a new pair of hands,’ I declare, going back to the desk and dipping the quill. ‘I shall write an advertisement for tomorrow’s edition this minute.’
‘Very well. Where is your father, anyway? I haven’t seen him much these past few days.’
‘Probably with Grant,’ I say quickly. ‘We have two machines now, Mama, and the printworks is busier than ever.’
‘Well, that is good news.’ Picking up the bottom of her dress, she breezes out. ‘Clara,’ she calls. ‘Come now, we must go.’
I slump back down in my chair, exhaling heavily. Enough is enough. I must find Papa and talk some sense into him before Mama discovers his betrayal.
Eighteen thousand! It is a record, possibly a world record. I make a trip across town to find Papa with no success, so decide to visit Fleming at Kentstone’s to update him on the progress of sales, but as I am trotting down St James’s Street, I see our family carriage up ahead, another following it.
I pull the reins of my horse and lift a hand for the jarvey to stop. ‘Papa?’ I say, dipping to see inside the carriage.
‘Ah, Frank.’ He smiles, but it is nervous. ‘You will not believe the news I have!’ He slips out of the carriage and rubs his belly. ‘First, I must have a drink, for I surely need one.’ He’s off across the cobbles, marching on, his target Gladstone’s, and, I must agree, he really does look like he needs a drink.
‘Papa, wait,’ I call, sliding down from Figaro and securing him to the nearest gas lantern. ‘Hey,’ I call to a boy across the street with armfuls of loaves. ‘Watch my horse.’ I throw him a shilling, and the loaves tumble from his arms to catch it. ‘There’s another for you when I get back.’ I hurry after Papa and enter Gladstone’s, seeing Casper, Fallow and Millingdale all seated around a table laughing while sinking Scotch, and in the corner, the Prince Regent placing bets he cannot afford.
I find Papa in another corner, a drink being poured for him, and he looks alarmingly ashen. ‘What is it, Papa? Should I call for a doctor?’
‘I have had quite a shock, Frank,’ he says, taking his glass and drinking his Scotch back in one fell swoop. ‘Quite the shock, I tell you.’ He looks at me, and I withdraw, worried. He taps his glass, and it is full once again, but I suspect it won’t be for long. ‘I encountered the highwaymen.’ He throws back his second Scotch.
‘What?’ I whisper. ‘Are you hurt? Did they rob you?’ Where did this happen? And when? Was it in London? Outside? On the common or Hampstead Heath? A million questions run amok in my mind as I stare at Papa who once again taps his glass for a refill.
‘I am all right,’ he says, smiling his reassurance. ‘Just a little shaken.’ He laughs. ‘It was quite unfortunate, really.’
‘I’d say so too, Papa.’ Is he drunk?
‘No, no, you misunderstand.’
I do? Because he’s looking all too happy about being robbed. I’m confused. ‘What happened?’
‘I was on my way home, Frank, when I saw a carriage in the distance. I recognised it. It was Lady Rose. The wheel of her carriage came right off after hitting a rock, and she was stranded, so, of course, despite our family being at odds with the old hag, I stopped to offer my assistance, for she is still a lady, after all.’ Another drink, and this time I join him, nodding to the server to pour and taking the glass, anticipation killing me.