Philippa Gregory - Meridon

And I knew where he was playing, too. I knew that his new-found friends, Redfern and Thomas, were bilkers. I had seen all the signs – Perry’s amazing luck which started when he met them, just as he came into his fortune. They called him ‘Lucky Havering’ he had told me and I had not thought quick enough with my clever cheating mind. They were gulling him and tonight, when he was drunk and peevish, they would spring the trap.

I gnawed on my knuckle and pulled one of Perry’s expensive coats around me in the darkness. I was racking my brains to think of a way to find him, to trace him before it was too late.

There was a sudden rattle against the glass. A tapping like hailstones. It was someone in the street outside, throwing stones up at the bedroom windows. My heart leaped for a moment, perhaps it was Perry locked out and afraid to wake the house by knocking. Another shower of stones came, and I jumped out of bed and crossed to the window, afraid for the glass.

The windows had been sealed shut, thick with white paint. I could not open them. I pressed my face up to the glass and squinted down into the street below. Whoever was throwing stones was hidden by the angle of the house, but then a figure stepped back into the road to look up at my window and I recognized him at once.

It was Will Tyacke, standing in the dark street like an assassin come to murder me.

I ran to the bedroom door and wrenched it open. I flew down the hall, my bare feet making no noise on the thick carpet, and pattered down the icy stairs. The front door was bolted and chained, but I had often let myself out for my morning rides, and I pushed the bolts back and unchained the door and threw it open.

I tumbled out on the stone step, wearing only my nightdress, my arms outstretched. ‘Will!’ I said. ‘I need you!’

He fended me off roughly, pushed me away from him, and with a sudden shock I saw his face was dark with anger. I fell back.

‘I’ve no time for that now!’ I said suddenly. ‘You may be angry with me, but there is something that matters more. It’s Wideacre. You have to help me save it!’

Will’s face was as hard as chalk. ‘I have come to ask you one question,’ his voice was thick with rage. ‘One question only and then I will go.’

I shivered. It was freezing, the pavements glistened with hoar frost. I stood barefoot on the stone step.

‘Do you know what stake your husband is using to gamble with tonight?’ he asked.

‘What…?’ I stammered.

‘Do you know what stake your husband is using, for his gambling tonight?’ Will repeated. His voice was very harsh, the whisper was charged with anger.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He came home to get the deeds. I have just found them missing.’ I put my hand behind me and gripped the knocker of the big black door so hard that it hurt. ‘D’you know where he is?’ I asked.

Will nodded. ‘I wanted to see you,’ he said. ‘I went to that woman’s party, where you were this evening. They said you’d gone home to bed. I thought I’d see his lordship instead, if I could find him.’ He paused. ‘I found him,’ he said. ‘He was in a new gambling club, in a mews behind Curzon Street, he was dead drunk, trying to play piquet. The gossip in the club was that he had won all evening but was starting to lose. The stake on the table were the deeds to Wideacre. Whoever wins them, wins Wideacre.’

We neither of us spoke. The wind blew icy down the street and I shivered but I did not step back into the hall.

‘It was not lost when you left?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘Did you see him?’ I demanded. ‘Did they let you in?’

Will’s hard mouth twisted in a smile. ‘It’s not a gentleman’s club,’ he said with the precise discrimination of a radical. ‘They let in anyone who is rich enough or fool enough. It’s a mews turned into a club with a porter down at the bottom of the stairs, and where the grooms would sleep is where they play. It’s only been open a few weeks.’

My mind was spinning as fast as if I still had a fever. ‘Wait here,’ I said. ‘I’m getting my cloak.’

Before he had time to answer I turned and raced back upstairs. I pulled my cloak from the wardrobe and I pushed my icy feet into my riding boots. I was not tired now, my head was thudding with anxiety and I was shuddering with the cold, but I was in a mad rush to get downstairs again in case Will should leave, without waiting for me.

I snatched a purse full of guineas from the drawer in my desk and clattered down the stairs, hardly caring how much noise I made.

Will was still on the doorstep.

‘Come on!’ I said, pulling the door shut behind me and starting down the street at a run. ‘Is that your horse?’

Will’s big bay was tied to the railings. Will nodded and unhitched him. At my nod he threw me up to the saddle and then swung up behind me.

‘Where to?’ he asked.

‘The stables,’ I said.

We trotted around to the mews, the horse’s hooves clattering loudly on the frozen cobbles. A dog yapped inside, and we saw a light go on. I banged on the stable door and I heard the horses inside stir, then I heard someone coming down the stairs from the sleeping quarters above the stable and a voice, gruff with sleep, shout: ‘Who is it?’

‘Lady Havering!’ I yelled back. I could feel Will behind me stiffen with anger at the title, but the groom pulled back the bolts of the door and poked his head and his lantern out through the gap.

‘Lady Havering?’ he asked incredulously. Then, as he saw me, he tumbled out into the street. ‘What d’you want, your ladyship?’

‘I want to borrow your best suit, your Sunday suit,’ I said briskly. ‘I have need of it, Gerry, please.’

He blinked, owlish in the lamplight.

‘Quickly!’ I said. ‘I’ll change in your room. Give me the clothes first.’

Will dropped down to the ground and lifted me down.

‘You heard her,’ he said to the man. ‘Do as she says.’

The groom stammered, but turned inside and led the way up the rickety stairs.

‘There’s the suit I had for my brother’s wedding,’ he said. ‘He’s a tailor, he made it up for me special.’

‘Excellent,’ I said. The smarter I looked the more likely we were to pull this off.

He went to a chest in the corner of the room and lifted it out reverently. We were in luck so far, he had kept the linen with it, and a white cravat. It was a suit almost as good as a gentleman’s; in smooth cloth, not homespun. A dark grey colour. You’d expect a city clerk to wear such a suit, or even a small merchant. If Perry’s club would admit Will dressed in his brown homespun, they’d certainly admit me in this suit, if I could pass for a young man.

There was a tricorne hat with it, in matching grey, and I could swing my own cloak over the whole. My boots would have to serve. I did not want to borrow the groom’s shoes with shiny buckles, they would be obviously too big for me whereas the jacket and trousers just looked wide-cut.

I dressed as quick as if I were changing costume between acts and clattered down the stairs as Will and the groom were leading his bay horse into the stables. Will stared at me and the groom gaped.

‘My God, Lady Havering, what are you about?’ the groom exclaimed.

I brushed past him and swung my cloak around myself.

‘What d’you think?’ I demanded. ‘Would I pass as a young man, a young gentleman?’

‘Aye…’ Gerry stammered, ‘But why, your ladyship? What are you about?’

I gave a low laugh, I felt as mad as I had been with my fever.

‘Thank you for the loan of your suit…’ I said. ‘You shall have it back safe. Tell no one about this and you shall have a guinea. Have Sea and the bay ready for us at daybreak. Wait up for me.’