Part 2 (1/2)
”Aye, if you're sure.” The man looked at her, doubt written all over his face.
”It's quite all right. I'll wake my butler.”
”That's a good idea, my lady. You never know what a fellow might do when he's jug-bitten.”
Caroline stepped back into the dark hallway. Hazlett was already coming down the stairs with a candle, a robe thrown over his striped butler's pants.
”Lady Christie, I do hope everything is all right. I heard the disturbance and came as fast as I could.”
Poor Hazlett. His wiry white hair stood on end. If it was how he woke up every morning, he must give Mrs. Hazlett quite a chuckle. Caroline had never seen him at such a disadvantage, but then she rarely had callers in the middle of the night. ”We have an unexpected visitor. Ned Christie, my husband's oldest son. Or at least I believe it's he who is at the gate. The guard says he's not well.”
”Oh, dear. Shall I fetch a doctor?”
”I don't think that will be necessary, but you could prepare a pot of coffee. Perhaps a sandwich. You needn't wake Mrs. Hazlett.”
”No indeed. That is all within the realm of my capability. Would you like me to wait with you to a.s.sist the young gentleman into the drawing room?”
Caroline had dealt with her father's, and then brother's drinking for years. They had been easy to maneuver. Parkers were was not nearly as tall as Christies, however. She would hate to have Ned topple to the tile and ruin his pretty face. ”Thank you, Hazlett. Your a.s.sistance will be most welcome.”
There was a fair amount of commotion in the street-some cursing by both parties, a s.n.a.t.c.h of song, and the unmistakable sound of retching-but at last a chastened Ned stumbled up the steps in the arms of the guard. Caroline would have to tip the poor man for his efforts tomorrow. For tonight, at least, she'd send Hazlett out with coffee and extra sandwiches.
”Caro!” Ned said with a loopy grin. He seemed to think that explained everything.
”Come sit down, Neddie. Ned.” Between the guard and Hazlett, they deposited Ned on a sofa in the downstairs drawing room. Caroline had redecorated recently with the proceeds from The Maid's Master, her most popular volume yet, and hoped the boy had cast up his accounts sufficiently to keep her new green brocade safe. Somewhere along the way of his evening Ned had lost his neckcloth and one glove. His pants were torn, and his dark hair rivaled Hazlett's in its defiance of gravity. She gave Hazlett instructions and the butler disappeared to the kitchen.
”I have not set eyes on you in five years. What brings you to my doorstep? And in this condition! Your father will not approve. He's forbidden me from seeing any of you, you know.” Caroline tried her best to summon sternness, but was checking his forehead for fever and brus.h.i.+ng his coat of crumbs.
”F-father never approves of anything he didn't think of first. Pay no attention to him. Don't m-myself.” He hiccupped.
”Easy for you to say. Oh, Neddie! Why are you here? I should send you home now that I know you're not at death's door.”
”Might be. Don't feel at all the thing, Caro.” He looked up at her pleadingly with his father's hazel eyes.
Caroline repressed a desire to slap some sense into him, and sniffed in disdain. ”I should think not. You've fallen into an ale barrel.”
”Brandy, too. Inferior stuff. N-nasty.”
”I'm going to fill you with some coffee and send you home in a hack. And you must not tell your father you were here. Why are you here?”
” 'Twas a m-mission of mercy. Wouldn't come if it weren't 'portant. Know I'm s'posed to cut you. L-like you never ex-existed. The old man will flay me alive for finding you, but I don't c-care. The fellows tonight got to talkin' about parents. Parents are the v-very devil, you know. Cut off one's 'lowance for no good reason. Rules and r-regulations. One l-long and boring lecture after 'nother for the m-merest infraction. A Christie never does this. A Christie never does that. And then they do just as they please. Do y'know Father wants me to m-marry my cousin when I come of age? S-safe, he says, as if a fellow wants safe. She's got a squint, and no chest to speak of. I won't do it. But that's not-no, I'm here for m'friend Rory. His father is the worst. He keeps a fancy wh.o.r.e here on J-jane Street while p-poor Rory doesn't have a s.h.i.+lling to his name and his mama is home crying all the time.” He turned a mottled shade of red which clashed with his green hue. ”Sorry. No doubt the wh-wh.o.r.e is a friend of yours. And I was going to tell you-” he trailed off, as if he really had no idea what he was supposed to say on poor Rory's behalf.
So her location and reputation had trickled down to Ned. She felt instantly stricken for that which must be a considerable source of embarra.s.sment for him. To know that his stepmother was installed on Jane Street-Edward could not possibly have told him. Even though Edward had been cruel, he had been the soul of discretion. It was she who had let her whereabouts slip a time or two.
Caroline had an idea which Jane was involved in this love triangle-square, if one counted the dest.i.tute Rory. Sophie Rydell at Number Two complained long and loud about Lord Carmichael, who brought his domestic troubles with his wife and son into her bed more often than an erection, and was somewhat stingy with his gifts besides. ”Does Rory's father beat him or his mother?”
Ned gaped at her as if she'd grown two heads. In his inebriated state, she probably had. ”I should say not! Rory would knock him flat. Good with his f-fists, he is.”
”Then I suggest you explain to your friend that gentlemen often seek dalliance outside the bonds of marriage. It's the way of the ton. He'll probably do the same to his wife when he marries.”
Ned's dark brows drew together. ”That's it? You w-won't talk to the girl?”
”And what am I to say to her?” Caroline asked in impatience. ”Leave your comfortable house and go back on the street to sell oranges because some spoiled drunken boy is unhappy that his allowance is cut? Lord Carmichael will only find another mistress, I a.s.sure you.”
Ned hiccupped. ”You r-really are a wonder. You do know everything. I n-never even said his name.”
The rattle of cups heralded Hazlett's return. Ned declined a sandwich but gulped the hot coffee gratefully.
”Hazlett, if you don't mind, wrap up the sandwiches and take them and a flask of coffee out to the guards. They've earned them tonight.”
”Very good, Lady Christie. Shall I procure a hackney cab for the young master as well?”
Ned was slumped over the table, all sharp elbows and knees. He had yet to fill out, but gave the promise of being as lean and elegant as his father. Caroline sighed. Ned could not become her reclamation project. She had been quite out of her league as a stepmother, as Edward had pointed out to her again and again.
”Yes. Although it's awfully late. I wonder if you'll have any luck.”
” 'Snot that far,” Ned mumbled. ”I can walk.”
”I should like to see you try.” Jane Street was ideally located in the heart of Mayfair, so handy for gentlemen to slip away from their homes and slip into their mistresses. But she could picture Ned sprawled facedown on the sidewalk. He wouldn't freeze to death as it was nearly summer, but he'd be a target for pickpockets and gossip.
She plied Ned with more coffee, and he did indeed seem to come somewhat to his senses. She was treated to rambling tales of his siblings Allie and Jack. Caroline had missed Allie most of all, that sullen, gangly, impossible child who had made her married life a living nightmare. Well, to be fair, Edward did that, but Allie had helped him with a concerted, conscientious effort. The boys had been easier to deal with, being mostly away at school. When they came home, she was reminded of her scapegrace brother Nicky, and Andrew, G.o.d rot his soul.
Hazlett came back after more than a quarter of an hour, unsuccessful in procuring a means of transportation to remove Edward Allerton Christie the Younger from her sofa. It was just as well. Despite the coffee, Ned was snoring. Grunting. And farting. There was a noxious aroma in Caroline's parlor from which she was anxious to escape. Leaving poor Hazlett to find a pillow, a blanket, and a bucket, she climbed the stairs to her lonely bed, wondering what the morning would bring.
The morning brought disaster. Ned had been sick in the night. Although his aim had been more or less on target, Caroline's parlor smelled even worse than it had earlier. A ghost-white Ned lay on his back on the divan clutching his belly, his long legs dangling off to the carpet. At regular intervals he'd spasm and gasp, ”Knew it. The oysters were off.” At first she thought he'd helped himself to her dinner's leftovers, but he explained-between vomiting and a manly form of crying-that he and his friends had ordered two platters of oysters in an alehouse as they discussed the vicissitudes of their wicked yet dull fathers. Between bad seafood and worse drink, Ned was suffering, and Caroline was suffering right along with him. Food poisoning could be deadly, although she hoped the worst of it had wound up in the bucket. Hazlett had already summoned the doctor, and she had most reluctantly written a note to Edward, trying to explain in the very vaguest of terms why his son spent the night on her sofa.
Dr. Turner arrived first. He shooed her out of the room, so she gratefully went to her little garden for fresh air. It was an oasis of peace to her, although at the moment she needed to deadhead the spent flowers. Sometimes she held her weekly teas there when the weather was fine, or sat by herself even when the weather was not. The sky was sufficiently cloudy, promising a storm. When Edward marched outside, she knew the storm had arrived a few hours early. She tossed her gardening gloves on the bench and sat down in resignation. She'd barely slept, and knew she did not look her best. A glance in the mirror had her wanting to put a sack over her head to spare the public.
But Edward looked worse. Apart from his fury, his hazel eyes were sunken in between gray smudges and his full lips were bloodless. She hoped he'd lain awake all night in torment realizing he'd never have her body again.
”What is the meaning of this?” he thundered.
Caroline stared up at him, nearly cracking her neck-he was so awfully tall. He would make a perfect fire and brimstone preacher, she decided. One look at him and all the commandments would be obeyed instantly without question. But she'd never been much of a rules-follower.
”I wrote to you. Neddie turned up late last night, and he was ill. Surely you've spoken to the doctor.”
”He'll be fine,” Edward snapped. ”The young fool. Why didn't you send him directly home?”
”I tried to, but there were no cabs to be had at that hour.”
He pointed a long finger at her. ”If this is some sort of trick to get me back here, Caroline, you've misjudged badly. I won't have you in collusion with my children again.”
”A trick? Do you think I planned to get Neddie drunk and throw up and defecate all over my house? I suppose I paid off all his stupid friends to make him eat bad oysters to make my grand plan even more diabolical. Go round to Lord Carmichael's house and see how his son Rory is faring. I have no reason to lure Carmichael here-I don't even know him.”
”What the devil are you talking about?”
”I don't even know.” Caroline decapitated the head of a bright pink pelargonium, crus.h.i.+ng the petals between her fingers. ”Go home, Edward, and take Neddie with you. And stop lecturing him so. He doesn't like it. And furthermore,” she said, tossing the flower to the ground, ”let him pick out his own wife.”