A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(38)

“Oh, isn’t that just like Papa. Everything was always for John. Always. Why do you look so perplexed? I assure you he would have given John the moon on a plate if he could.”

“I believe you.” Charles tapped the documents softly. “What puzzles me is how your father knew.”

“I do not follow you. The whole of Kennet End knew Kitty and Mr Eastwick had eloped within an hour of the maid finding her note.”

“I am not disputing that, but how did your father come by Kitty’s marriage lines? She ran away. Her letters to your mother were never received, and in any case, this is hardly a thing she would have sent. How, then, is this document with his official papers? You said he did not go after her himself, or put any measures in place to find her.”

“He didn’t. It was as if she ceased to exist as soon as she had left Kennet End. How strange. I shall ask when next I see her. Is there anything else in the packet?”

Charles lifted a slip of paper. “A memorandum recording that the final five hundred pounds had been paid as agreed.”

“Five hundred pounds? To who? By who?”

“I do not know. It is unsigned and undated.”

“Perhaps it was caught up in Kitty’s papers by mistake. It sounds like one of Papa’s transactions.”

“Perhaps so. I would still like to know about the marriage lines. It also occurs to me that your sister was surely under age when she eloped. They would not have had permission for the marriage. I will take you back to Grosvenor Street, and then I think I may have to find this Reverend Good and put a few questions to him.”

“May I not come with you?”

“You may not. One meander through the less salubrious parts of the city within the last few days is quite sufficient. I will call on you tomorrow and tell you my findings.”

As riddles went, it was an unsatisfactory one. Reverend Good had breathed his last several years previously. When Charles asked if there might be a note in the church ledger expressing any doubts or anything out of the ordinary about the marriage, the present incumbent raised his eyebrows and said frankly that weddings weren’t so common amongst his parishioners that any priest hereabouts was going to go asking for proof every time a bride assured him she was twenty-one.

Charles sighed, nodded his thanks and gave the man a couple of shillings for the poor relief.

The rector accepted the money cheerfully. “I won’t put it in the box,” he said. “No sense tempting the congregation when it’ll do more good in my housekeeper’s soup cauldron. At least then everyone gets a share in it.”

“You know best. What did your predecessor die of, by the way?”

“A cosh to the back of the head. All for the cross around his neck and the thruppence three-farthings in his pocket.” The vicar brought forth a workmanlike truncheon out from under his robes and hefted it fondly. “God works in mysterious ways, Mr Congreve, but so far He’s not regretted calling me to this parish.”

“So that’s a line of enquiry that is going nowhere. What of Mary Cattson, Julia? Did you manage to draw her out on the subject of Mr North?”

His sister smiled like a cat who had no idea where the bowl of cream in the kitchen had gone nor how anyone could even imagine she might have had something to do with it. Charles schooled his face to a blank. Julia had used that same expression ever since she was small. It had long since ceased to work on him.

“I did indeed,” she said. “Mr North was invited to the house by Mary’s brother. It seems the foolish boy had lost money at play but Mr North, being a capital sort as her brother put it, tore up the IOUs and said he would not profit by a run of ill luck. The only thing was, he now found himself a trifle embarrassed until his money came in at the end of the quarter, so could he perhaps defray his expenses by staying quietly in the country with Cattson for a couple of weeks? Mary’s brother naturally agreed to this - and there you have it. I declare, was there ever a more idiotic pair?”

“Gulled, both of them. Did you discover how much was paid?”

“Unfortunately not. Mary was sheltered from all such sordid talk. But she did whisper that Frank’s losses were in the region of ￡400, so I daresay that was paid and more again.”

“You have done extremely well, Julia. Thank you.”

“I enjoyed it. Is there any future, do you suppose, in hiring oneself out as a female Bow Street Runner?”

“None,” said Charles crushingly.

“That is a shame. Well, what do we investigate next?”

“We don’t. I am going to my chambers to get on with what I am paid to do. You will no doubt spend the rest of the day preparing yourself for whichever party you are attending this evening.”

“All this studying of the law has made you very cross, Charles. However, as we are invited to Mrs Stanhope’s rout this evening, though where she is to find enough people at this time of year to warrant the name is a matter of considerable conjecture, I should perhaps look over my gowns.”

She drifted out of the room. Verity smiled at Charles. “I neglected to thank you for battling Mr Dryden on Mama’s behalf yesterday.”

He took her hand in his. “Don’t tell Julia, but I enjoyed it very much. The man is as prosy as your brother. I may drop by his rooms again to ensure he treats the matter with despatch.”