A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(33)
“I apprehended as much. His business dealings seem to mainly consist of moving money from one place to another, though little of it remains in his own pocket. A sight of his bank book shows occasional large sums deposited, coinciding with a period out of town, otherwise he lives from day to day, buying and selling around the docks and visiting discreet houses in Bloomsbury and Upper Church Street and rather less discreet ones in Hart Street, Drury Lane and the Haymarket. He also visits various gambling hells from Covent Garden to Shadwell. I have made a list of the addresses.”
Charles looked at the paper Scrivener placed in front of him. “I wonder he finds the time. Does he frequent the tables in all these places?”
“He is of certainty a hardened gambler, but he appears selective in what and where he plays. At cards he generally wins. At dice he almost always loses. I have marked the establishments where he stays longest.”
“He visits, but does not always stay? The inference being that in some places he collects money, others he takes part in the play. Shadwell...” He raised his eyebrows. “I daresay the insalubrious location adds extra spice to the gentlemen who come to gamble there.”
“The ones who can afford to lose, yes. I understand the number of young men who take their own lives shortly after playing cards with Captain Eastwick is not insignificant,” said Scrivener.
Another frisson of distaste rippled through Charles. “Not only a card-sharp, but a murderer by extension. And according to his wife, caring for no one but himself, God rot him. Is there more to be found out? What is your next line of enquiry?”
The man on the other side of the desk hesitated. “Naturally I remain your humble servant and looked forward to future commissions, but on this occasion I would appreciate the balance of the fee paid and no more said on the matter.”
Charles looked at him shrewdly. “Certainly, if that is your decision. Might I ask if you have a particular reason?”
“Let us say, sir, that I have made the sort of enquiries any conscientious attorney such as yourself might order about an impressionable young client’s relatives. To go further might invite the sort of attention one would rather not attract. Not if a person wishes to see their family grow to maturity and become settled in life.”
“You felt you were being observed?”
“I was aware of scrutiny, yes. Whether from Captain Eastwick’s people or others, I could not say. I did not care to show I had noticed.”
Charles nodded. “That seems wise. My thanks for continuing with the commission. Does the name Flint mean anything to you?”
“Geology has never been one of my interests,” said Scrivener firmly. “Good day, sir.”
Alone, Charles read through the report with an increasingly grim set to his mouth. Much of it filled in the spaces which Kitty Eastwick had left this morning. This constant perambulating between addresses... was Eastwick dealing in protection, rent, dividends or all three? Charles remembered Verity’s half-sister from years back: the change between her vivid, beautiful wildness then and the wary, disenchanted woman in Newton’s this morning, determined to protect her daughter at any cost to herself, made his stomach turn. She and Ann must be extracted from Eastwick as soon as possible. The question was how to do it within the law? And how to keep them safe afterwards?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Verity found it difficult to settle to anything on Saturday morning, so anxious was she to see Kitty. Eventually Julia commanded her to pass across the bonnet she was making a sad hash of trimming and instead to read Glenarven aloud so Julia could remind herself of all the delicious scandalous titbits in Lady Caroline Lamb’s writing. Verity did so, but when the butler announced ‘Mrs Eastwick’, the book went flying as she hastened across the saloon, arms outstretched.
“You came,” she said. “I am so pleased. Mama, here is Kitty at last. And see, she has brought Ann with her.”
Naturally, all was lamentation, celebration and confusion for a while, but finally, after tears had been wept and eyes dried, the three young ladies were able to talk aside at the worktable whilst the older ladies made fast friends with Mrs Bowman’s young namesake.
“Have you thought about my offer?” asked Verity. “Will you come back to Newmarket with us?”
“I would like nothing more, but I cannot, Verity. I cannot even leave Ann with you for safekeeping. Not yet, not without reason. He is waiting for us now. He does not come into this part of town himself - I have learnt never to ask the reason for any of his actions - but he knows where we are. I can allay his suspicions about my reconnecting with my family if I act exactly as usual outside of these visits. I have told him of Papa’s death and your legacy. Now I will say that through Mama’s kind offices, I hope to make connections for Ann which will be useful to her in life, the same way your godmother paid for you to go to school with Julia.”
“Will that be enough?”
“I hope so. He has several unpleasant acquaintances. I would have Ann safely away before they take an interest in her.” Kitty looked from Verity to Julia, both of whom were regarding her with horror. She made a tiny gesture. “I apologise if I distress you. Seven years ago I would have been the same. Life is ... different outside your drawing rooms and railed squares. It is hard and sometimes brutal, so we women shut it out and define our lives as normal. We focus on small triumphs like fashioning a fire out of gleanings from the coalman’s yard. We count as a victory the swapping of a ribbon for enough coin for a beef shin bone to give body to the week’s broth. It is a snatching of moments to create a happiness. And Simon is not always out of temper. He can be charming and complaisant so long as he is not crossed.”