Bruce Alexander - An Experiment in Treason

“Well then,” said he, “you should be able to answer any questions put to you about the story — how it ends, that sort of thing.”

Again, we agreed.

“Tell them, if you’ve a need, that it was in the nature of a reward for some specially commendable work you’ve done for me — oh, on this burglary, the missing letters, et cetera.”

“What sort of commendable work?” Clarissa asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ll think of something. You’ve a good imagination, and so has Jeremy.”

And thus it was arranged. We descended the stairs promptly at eight and found Mr. Bilbo’s coach waiting for us below in Bow Street. The footman hailed me by name, for we had met often and under all manner of circumstances. Then he did hop down from his perch and open the door for us with a bit of a flourish. As I passed him, accepting a boost at the elbow, he offered me a wink and a smirk. Why did people always seem to find it necessar’ to leer, smirk, wink, roll their eyes, and otherwise make strange facial contortions whenever they spied a lad my age in the company of a girl Clarissa’s age?

We settled in side by side, and she put round her wrap to keep her bare arms warm. I wondered why she had not dressed warmer. She should have worn a scarf, as well, for, after all, even wearing the wrap, her bosom, of late a bit more prominent, was left half-exposed. Women w ere like that, were they not? They never seemed to wear sufficient clothing, nor did they think sufficiently ahead to bring along what they might need for warmth later on in the evening. Instead, they preferred to snuggle and complain of the cold — just as she was doing at that instance. As we got under way, I thought it best to involve her in conversation, do whatever must be done to keep her at bay.

“Why do you suppose Sir John wanted us to withhold from Lady Fielding our intentions to visit Mr. Bilbo and Marie-Helene?” I asked, finding it needful to clear my throat a time or two as I spoke thus.

She leaned forward and looked at me direct. (Truth to tell, she was a bit shortsighted even then.)

“You know, Jeremy, she’s been behaving a bit strange lately. I would put it to her worries about her mother’s condition. She came back from York declaring that her mother was past the crisis, and she thought it time to return to Sir John and her family — meaning us, which I thought quite nice of her to say. But no, I don’t believe her mother is well. She has a tumor, and they are not got rid of so easily.”

“Indeed not,” said I, remembering the long suffering of the first Lady Fielding. “She seems to go up to bed earlier each evening. She says she reads.”

“I’ve heard her voice at night. She’s either talking to herself… or praying.”

“But to address that question with which we began, I really can’t say why she should object to our visiting Black Jack Bilbo. She seems to like him quite well, thinks he’s rather a rogue, a scoundrel, nevertheless a lovable one.”

“Ah, but Marie-Helene — that’s another matter, entirely.”

“I wonder what Lady Fielding has against her — not to mention what Molly might.”

“With Molly, no matter what she may say to the contrary, I feel certain her anger at the woman is all personal.”

“Not that she hasn’t reason.”

“Oh no, certainly not.”

“It’s just …”

“Right. It does no good.”

We fell silent. There was little more to say on the matter. Clarissa leaned back again and nestled against me. She was most aggressive. She went so far as to incline her head upon my shoulder, which made me most uncomfortable. Not physically, of course. Yet when we went from the Strand to Charing Cross, the road went bumpy, and she was forced to lift her head from its place.

“My goodness but you do have a bony shoulder, Jeremy!”

“I can scarcely help that now, can I?”

If I could only think of something to say, this would be the time to introduce some new topic of conversation, anything to divert her from her foolishness.

“Well, I suppose not. You eat enough for two as it is.”

Then came a sudden inspiration, a question which might engage her attention for the length of the trip.

“What do you think Marie-Helene wishes to discuss with you?” I asked her.

At that she laughed, which surprised me greatly.

“Have you not supposed what this is about?” she asked.

“No,” said I, “I have no notion of it.” Not strictly true, but anything to deflect her.

“Did not your friend Bunkins say that he would have some things to say to you? “

“He did.”

“And do you not also suppose that Mr. Bilbo, too, would wish to talk with you?”

“I had that feeling, yes.”

“Well, dear Jeremy, it is my certain conviction that we have been summoned that they may say their good-byes.”

“Yes, certainly Marie-Helene wishes to say her good-bye to you — perhaps to me, as well, I suppose — for she will be gone some three years or more. But Mr. Bilbo? Bunkins?”

“Have you not the sense that God gave you? Do you not see that they are planning on escape?”

The word, which she had actually whispered, seemed to sound like a shout in the close quarters of the coach. I heard it, and heard it well, yet I refused to acknowledge it. I simply stared at her.

“Let me make it plain,” said she, continuing. “If the woman you loved were about to be sent away to serve a term in prison, perhaps even to be condemned to death — and you had the means to take her any place in the world, would you not steal her away and take her out of danger? Jeremy, he has riding at anchor out there in the river a fine seagoing vessel. You told me yourself that when last you saw him, Mr. Bilbo was counting his cash, and there were so many banknotes and sovereigns that you could not see the top of the desk. We know that he has sold his gaming den — for cash — and he has probably sold that grand house in St. James’s Street, as well. He has great wealth that can be spent anywhere. If you cannot see where all this is pointing, then you are not near as clever as I think you are.”

She, who was but sixteen, appeared much older as she expounded upon my blindness to the obvious. Her eyes shone steady and sharp. There could be no doubt of the intensity of her feeling as she made her argument. It seemed altogether impossible that this was the girl who had but a short time before rested her head upon my shoulder. She seemed to contain within her some several females of various ages. Which must I now address?

‘ Listen to me please, if you will,” said I, “and don’t interrupt. I have not heard what you have said, and for that matter, we have not had this conversation. If I had heard, and if this conversation had taken place, then I should have to go to Sir John and give it as our suspicion that Mr. Bilbo was preparing to aid and abet the escape of Marie-Helene, Lady Grenville. Naturally,” said I (a bit sarcastically), “I would give you credit and declare that you had convinced me. Now if — “

“But why?’ she demanded, interrupting in spite of my request. “Why would you have to bring this to Sir John?”

“Because I hope to be an officer of the court someday not so far in the future, and I want no stain upon my record. And if you are still as talkative as you have been in the past, you would not be able to resist spreading your thoughts and observations about and boasting you had convinced me. In other words, that I knew in advance of their plans.”

“I would not!” she declared. “I would do no such thing! ‘

“Perhaps indeed you would not. Perhaps you would get past that temptation and all would be well. Nevertheless there is this matter I should like to clear up between us. I should like to tell you, Clarissa, that I am as clever as you think I am. By the time I left Mr. Bilbo’s residence yesterday, I thought that there was much amiss, yet I would not allow myself to pursue such thoughts and draw the sort of conclusions that you have drawn, for the reasons I have just stated. I would have to be a dunce to thus overlook the obvious. And if you want suspicions, here is one of mine you may not have considered: I believe that Sir John himself is fearful that Black Jack and his lady will try something of the sort you’ve suggested. Do you recall how he came home from Bilbo’s the other night? So angry and out-of-sorts? I believe he sensed it then taking shape. He sent me with that dreaded message, because he did not want to know more about it, for if he did, he would have to prevent it — perhaps report it himself to the Lord Chief Justice.”