Philippa Gregory - Meridon

He would have answered, but I turned on my heel, Will at my side. His smile gleamed at me in the moonlight. I grinned back. It was good to be out of the house, and dressed easily again. It was like an enchantment to be with Will in the dark deserted streets of London. I laughed aloud.

‘Lead the way,’ I said. ‘To Perry’s club, as fast as we can.’

Will did not wait to ask me what I planned. I had known months before that moment that I loved him, but when he nodded with a smile, I loved him even more. For the way he turned and started down the street at a steady loping run, even though he did not know what the devil I was planning.

I was only half sure myself.

The new club was only minutes from home; Perry had taken a cab to it, and would have planned to reel home later. As we turned around the corner from the broad parade of Curzon Street we went arm in arm and strolled to the dark doorway, as leisurely as lords.

‘This is the place, Michael,’ Will said loudly. His voice was as clear and as commanding as a squire in the saddle. I had to bite back a smile.

‘Bang on the door, then!’ I said. I made my voice as deep as I could, and I slurred as if I were drunk. ‘Bang on the whoreson door!’

It swung open before Will raised his hand. The porter inside, dressed in a shabby livery which looked as if it had been bought off a barrow cheap, smiled at us. He had a tooth missing. He looked an utter rogue.

‘This is a private club, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Private to the gentry and their friends.’

Thank the lord they were saving money on the lighting and the hall was illuminated only by a single candelabra, and two of the candlesticks were guttering. My face under the hat was in shadow anyway; he was looking mainly at the cut of my coat which was good, and assuring himself that, although we might look like rustics, we were neither of us the watch come to check on this new gambling hell.

‘I’m an acquaintance of Sir Henry Peters,’ I said, braggishly, like a young man. ‘Is he here tonight?’

‘Not tonight,’ said the porter. ‘But please to come in, there is a small, a very small membership fee.’

I put my hand in my pocket and at his mumble of two guineas each I tipped the gold coins into his hand. His eyes gleamed at the weight of the purse as I tucked it back inside my cape.

‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘Most certainly, this way.’

He led the way up the rickety stairs to the upper floor. I could hear the sound of voices and the chink of bottle against glass. I could hear Perry’s own voice say, ‘Gad! Against me again! My luck’s sick as a dog tonight!’

I hesitated, wondering how drunk Perry was, whether he would see my face under the heavy tricorne hat and cry out in surprise. But then the porter pushed open the door and I saw how dark and smoky it was inside, and I went on, fearless.

The smoke hung like a pall in the room, cigar smoke in thick wreaths. The stench of it made my eyes water as soon as I stepped inside, but I saw how it darkened the room so that the gamblers were squinting at their cards. No one even noticed us.

‘Waiter!’ Will said behind me.

The man appeared and Will ordered a bottle of burgundy and signed for it with a flourish. He did not once glance at me for approval. You would have thought we had been bottle companions, gambling and wenching together for years.

The porter had gone across the room to whisper in the ear of a man who was sitting sideways to the door. He glanced up towards us and rose to his feet, came across the room twirling his glossy red mustachios. ‘Captain’ Thomas, I bet silently with myself. And as like a captain in the cavalry as any fool and coward can reasonably appear. His partner at the table stayed seated. I guessed that would be Bob Redfern.

‘Morning gentlemen,’ he said. He even had the voice to perfection, the cavalry officer’s confident drawl. ‘Good of you to come to my little place here. Can I interest you in a game?’

I hesitated. I had not thought further ahead than to get to Perry before he gambled Wideacre away for ever. But he was deeper in than I had dreamed. Captain Thomas was not running a cheap little fleecing here. This was a well-staffed club with three servants at least within call and a dozen wealthy patrons, most of whom wore swords.

I looked around quickly. With his back to the entrance, slumped in his chair, was Perry. His golden curls looked dark and dirty in the flickering candlelight, his head was bowed as he stared at his hand of cards. The empty place opposite him, which had been the captain’s, was surrounded with a pile of papers and gold coins. They were unmistakably IOUs from Perry. Any one of them might be the Wideacre deeds, and Will and I were too late.

‘You certainly can,’ I said. My mouth was very dry, and my throat too tight. My voice came out a little higher than I meant, too girlish. But it did not tremble. Beside me I saw Will shift a little, like a wrestler places his feet when he is ready for a fight. I reached back to the table where our wine was poured and took a gulp.

‘What’s your game?’ I asked. I nodded towards Perry’s table with assumed confidence. ‘What are you playing?’

‘Lord Havering and I were playing piquet while waiting for a partner for whist. Perhaps you and your companion…?’

He glanced at Will who swayed on his feet. ‘I’ll sit this one out!’ he said hastily.

‘Well, let me introduce you then to Mr Redfern who will take a hand with us,’ Captain Thomas said smoothly. ‘I’m Captain Thomas, this is Lord Peregrine Havering.’ Perry glanced up, his blue eyes hooded. He blinked owlishly and slumped back down again. ‘And this is Mr Redfern. Play whist, Bob?’

Perry straightened, he looked bemusedly at me, blinking like a daylight owl. I tensed. He had seen me dressed as a lad before, that spring morning in the Havering woods when he had thought we might be friends. He stared at me.

‘Do I know you?’ he asked confused.

I nodded confidently. ‘Aye, but I doubt you remember, my lord. We met at Brighton races, at the start of last summer. I was with Charles Prenderly, staying at his house.’

‘Oh,’ Perry said blankly. ‘Beg pardon. Of course.’

‘Will you play whist, my lord?’ Captain Thomas asked.

Perry blinked. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Got to keep the same stakes. Got to have a go at winning them back. Daren’t go home without them. That’s a fact.’

Captain Thomas shot me a rueful look. ‘His lordship’s dipped deep tonight,’ he said. ‘He wants his revenge from me.’

I pushed my hat back carelessly on my red curls. Building inside me was a mad recklessness I had never known before. The hard-working, tough little child seemed to be melting, in this most unlikely moment. I felt as if I could have laughed aloud. My whole life was on the table of a common gambling house, my legal-wedded husband dead drunk and defeated before me, the only man I loved tense as a twitched horse behind me. I tipped back my head and laughed aloud.

‘Maybe I’ll bring him luck!’ I said. ‘Will you play whist with me, m’lord?’

Perry blinked, his rosebud mouth down-turned as if he felt like crying. ‘Shouldn’t change the game,’ he said. ‘How can I win it back if we change the game?’

Captain Thomas hesitated. Perry could turn nasty if he was not humoured, but the porter would have whispered in his ear about the heavy purse in my pocket and how it chinked with gold. Perry’s friend Charles Prenderly was a wealthy young man. Any bilker would keep a friend of his at the gambling table if he possibly could.

‘Well, keep the stakes,’ I said cheerfully. The insane temptation to laugh aloud kept rising up in me. I was Meridon the gypsy tonight indeed. No land, no husband, no lover, and no chance of getting out of here without a thorough beating if I set a foot wrong. ‘Keep the stakes as they are, I’ll buy into the game. Then m’lord can win his fortune back if the cards fall his way.’