The Royal Scamp (6 page)

“Put it in the cellar,”
Esther advised. “He’ll not get in that way again. I have half a mind to turn him off. Tell him the rooms are all taken. On the other hand, he works at Whitehall and could be a good advertisement for us.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him.”

“A sharp eye, Buck. Let me know if anything else unusual happens.”

As Esther went into the lobby, she met Mr. Fletcher just coming in. “Miss Lowden! Come to check up on your minions, I see. May I escort you home?”

Mr. Fletcher’s smiling face and pleasant attitude, not disapproving of her business venture, were a welcome change from Joshua. “I would be happy for your escort. You must wonder how it comes that I am running an inn,”
she said.

“Not at all. I have sufficient knowledge of the world that I can surmise the cause. Your father left his estate encumbered. You’re an enterprising young lady and rescued yourself. So many would have been satisfied to live on the remains of their capital. How can ladies settle for such monotony, I wonder.”

When they were outside, Mr. Fletcher drew in the fresh air and said, “Ideal weather for a drive. It is not at all late....”
He looked for her response.

“Very well, a short ride. You were to come up with a novel idea, Mr. Fletcher,”
she reminded him.

He summoned a groom and sent for his carriage. “As you have placed Gothic windows, ramparts, towers, and noble walks on the interdict list, we shall visit a lesser-known historical site instead.”

“We are to tour Mr. Pope’s formal garden at Twickenham,”
she said with resignation.

“That’s out, too, is it?”

“I don’t know for a certainty that I have ever seen it on April the twentieth before,”
she said thoughtfully. “But time limits us to a short radius.”

“Not all that different from April the nineteenth, I warrant. You would have seen it any number of times on April the nineteenth. We’ll go to Ham House instead. Or is it also as well-known as an old ballad? You limit my ingenuity by curtailing me to a short radius.”

“I see what it is. You want to feel water rolling under your feet again, Mr. Fletcher.”

“If you can call the Thames water,”
he said disparagingly. “I am more accustomed to the mighty Atlantic. The Thames does not roll; it glides.”

“Where did the Atlantic roll you? Are you one of the heroes who protected us from Napoleon?”

The carriage came, and he assisted her into it before answering. “Unfortunately my past is less glorious. I was sent to North America, to defend Canada from the revolutionaries to the south.”

“What was it like? Was it very wild? Did you see any Indians?”

“I met a few. They’re savages,”
he said, and laughed. “What was it like? Well, it was very cold and very hot. They don’t warn you it will be hotter than the hobs of hell in summer. We all went equipped with blankets and fur jackets, and landed in the middle of July into a tropical climate. But the sun wasn’t too bad. It was pretty well obscured by black flies and mosquitoes.”

“I see you had a marvelous time.”

“It ill becomes an officer and gentleman to complain, unless he is on the point of remedying the situation. Otherwise it is mere carping. The sun is beyond my control. It was wonderfully broadening. Travel always has that advantage, if no other. But for me it also had the advantage of enriching me financially, so I shan’t say another disparaging word.”

“Was there good prize money?”

“No, good opportunities. Tall timbers practically being given away, and as to the furs! I import them both.”

It was only a short dart down the road to the Twickenham ferry. There were half a dozen tourists making the trek to Ham House. They made a brief tour of the island, admired the octagon room of Orleans House and the daffodils along the route. The sun shone warmly above, and the scenery was very poetic. The day was too fine to spend time touring indoors. They went back to the White Swan for high tea. It was a modest spot, but the tea was excellent, or seemed so with Mr. Fletcher for company.

“Next time I’ll hire a boat and we’ll row along the bank, chasing the swans,”
he said when they stood at the railing of the ferry that carried them back to Twickenham.

“You sound as though you mean to make a long stay in the neighborhood.”

“A man has to live somewhere. I like this area as well as any I’ve visited.”

“That is odd! Mr. Meecham, another guest at my inn, is also looking for a house nearby. We are becoming very popular.”

Fletcher gave her a flirtatious glance. “I wonder what can account for it? This Meecham—who is he? What does he do for a living?”

“He works at Whitehall.”

“Odd, his staying here.”

Esther wished to learn more about her companion and said, “Where are you from, Mr. Fletcher?”

“Northumberland, the beautiful Lake District. I’m a younger son. My brother inherited our family home. He has a wife and two children now. It will be more convenient for me to live close to London,”
he said. “I couldn’t bear to live in the city, though, with nowhere to go to get away from it. I’m a country boy at heart.”

“Won’t you miss your family?”

“My parents are dead. It is only Cathy I miss—that’s my younger sister. I do miss her.”
His face wore a sad, nostalgic smile when he spoke of her. He sang her praises for a few minutes.

“Is it just a country home you’re looking for—something close to London—or do you want an estate, a farm... ?”

“I sound an utter fool, but I’m in the curious position of not knowing what I want. Since leaving the navy, I feel at loose ends. I’m a partner in this importing business in London that takes about one day a week. I like London, enjoy that one day, but I want to live in the countryside. I think I want to do more than just have a house, but I’m really not at all knowledgeable about farming. I hesitate to put a lot of money into an enterprise at which I’m a Johnnie Raw. You’re a businesswoman, Miss Lowden—what do you advise?”

“I always advise everyone to open an inn.”
She smiled. “It has served me very well. Or do you think it beneath you, as some of my friends think it is beneath me?”

“I have already told you, I admire your initiative. I don’t consider it infra dig by any means. Well, I am already in commerce, so there could be no stigma in it for me. Perhaps you can tell me a little about your business—show me around your inn.”

“I’d be happy to. Is the importing business profitable?”
she asked, as one businessman to another.

“Extremely, but I am only a junior partner in the company. The pity of it is, I sold my idea and contacts to a fellow just before ... The thing is, I hadn’t much capital at the time, but have inherited some money from an uncle since then. I could buy my partner out, but then I would have to spend so much time in the city, and I don’t want that. You see my dilemma. I'm cash rich and idea poor.”

“I hope you don’t expect pity for that! You are to be envied.’

“I’m not complaining—only discussing my life with a friend who has got her own in such superb order. You’re something quite out of the ordinary, you know.”

His eyes lingered a moment on hers. She felt a flush of pleasure, but still, it was too soon for any more intimacy, and she called him to order.

“Help me think about it,”
he ordered. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow for a stroll along the deck and behaved with perfect propriety for the rest of the trip.

It was close to dinnertime when they reached home. Lady Brown was miffed at Esther’s lengthy absence, and she was not much appeased when Buck arrived at nine for his nightly meeting. He had sustained a visit from an old friend who was in the hotel business and had a few ridiculous suggestions with which to plague Esther.

“Mr. Moss stared to see our limited menu,”
he said, before he had been seated long. “He is with the Pulteney at the present time. I blushed to my eyebrows when he asked to see the list of French dishes. ‘None, Mr. Moss,’
I confessed sadly.”

“With our new stove, perhaps we can add some to the menu,”
she consoled him.

“
‘Not even a
sauté de poulardes
à
la Proven
ç
ale
? All the crack in London,’
he told me. ‘No
saumon au beurre de Montpellier
? No
filets de volatile à la Orléans
? Good gracious, what
do
people eat when they put up here?’
I could not even suggest he try our speciality, the roast beef. It was bone dry again.”
Buck shook his head sadly.

“We are not competing with the Pulteney, the most lavish hotel in the city, Buck,”
she pointed out.

“Indeed, no! I begin to wonder if we are even competing with the Black Knight and the street vendors who peddle kippered herring on street corners. Then, to have to confess the dessert menu was equally limited. A good dessert might have saved face. And what did I have to offer him? An apple tart—what you would be served at any country table. I shall have Peters try a
nougat à la Française
this very week. Mr. Moss mentioned it. And perhaps a
croque en bouche aux pistaches
for the gentlemen. We really do require a pastry chef, Esther. They have six at the Pulteney.”

“Perhaps in the future.”

A smile split Buck’s face. “Ah, I meant to tell you!”
he said. “We have a duchess with us this evening. The Dowager Duchess of Gresham, with a whole retinue of hangers-on. They’ve taken eight rooms in all. Three carriages sit in the stables, one of them with strawberry leaves and another with a lozenge on the side. Fortunately Mr. Duval’s party had vacated the east tower suite, and I could offer it to her grace.”

A look of beatific joy infused his face at the magical title. “She liked it amazingly. It reminded her of a suite in Lord Petersham’s country place. I don’t doubt we’ll have Petersham and his set here before the year is out. Some boxing match is spoken of nearby. All the smarts and swells attend such affairs. I don’t know how they can bear the brutality, but certainly bruisers enjoy a great popularity.”
He shook his head at this anomaly, for Buck disliked to be at odds with the ton about anything.

“When is the meet to be held?”

“Sometime in May. We’ll begin to receive requests for reservations any day now. Every room for miles around will be booked in advance. There will be a handsome profit for us. Pay for the closed stove and perhaps even a pastry chef in one weekend.”

Pleased with his news, Esther went along with him. “There’s nothing to be gained by stinting. You have to spend a sprat to catch a mackerel.”

“A wise philosophy. I can think of no greater joy than acting as host to the ton, unless it is to be paid for it. The best of all possible worlds, as that admirable Frenchie said—what was his name? The Candide fellow.”

“Voltaire.”

“That’s the chap. We don’t want it whispered in London that we are behind the times. And while we are discussing improvements, Esther—that carpet on the upper floor is in rags.”

“Why, the nap is hardly off it.”

“It’s the lower class of client who uses the upper floor—they are hard on carpets. They drag their feet along like old drays.”

“Then the old carpet is good enough for them.”
Buck sat trying unsuccessfully to think of a counterargument. “What is Meecham up to this evening?”
she asked.

“He is out. We’ll keep our ears cocked to hear if Captain Johnnie strikes.”

“And Mr. Fletcher, is he also out?”

“He was in the card room when I left.”

“If Johnnie strikes tonight, we’ll know it was Meecham. Well, our suspicions will be strengthened at least.”

Buck soon left. Esther kept listening for the sound of the knocker, thinking Joshua might stop by, but he didn’t, and at eleven she retired.

There was no report of an attack by Captain Johnnie that night. At breakfast the next morning the servant brought Miss Lowden a note, not delivered by post but sent over from her inn.

It was from Mr. Fletcher, reminding her in polite words of her promise to show him around the inn, and inquiring when she might be free to do it. Rather impatient to see Mr. Fletcher again, Esther sent a reply saying she would meet him at the inn at ten o’clock.

Lady Brown had a few words to say about this. “The man has the behavior of a commoner, Esther. Taking you over to Ham House yesterday without sending word home to me where you were. I was considerably worried about you. And now this. Why does he wish to see the inn?”

“He wants to open a business himself, Auntie.”

A quick smile lifted Lady Brown’s lips. “And is he thinking of buying the Lowden Arms? What a blessed relief it would be to have the place off our hands. Joshua would be thrilled to death.”

“He didn’t mention buying the Arms. Of course I gave no indication it is for sale. I wonder if that is what he has in mind....”

The Lowden Arms was not officially for sale, but with her aunt and Ramsay forever telling Esther it made her ineligible, she thought of selling it from time to time. The idea was in her mind when she put on her pelisse and straw bonnet with a clutch of cherries flirting over the brim, to go to meet Mr. Fletcher.

He was awaiting her in the lobby. His tall, lean form lounged elegantly against a pillar. He hastened forward when he saw her. “Punctual as well as beautiful!”
he complimented.

Esther, delighted with the compliment, gave a playful smile. “We business folks are accustomed to punctuality in our meetings.”

She noticed that Mr. Meecham was hovering about the desk, using the pretext of glancing at the morning journals, but she took the idea he was listening to them. As he didn’t look up, however, she didn’t acknowledge seeing him. It occurred to her that Joshua would not be long in ignorance of the meeting, and she felt a little pleasure mixed with her annoyance.

“Where shall we begin the tour?”
Fletcher asked.

Mr. Meecham’s head rose. Soon he walked forward. “Miss Lowden. Nice to see you again.”

“Mr. Meecham.”
Her greeting was not curt, but it did not encourage further speech.

“I couldn’t help hearing you mention a tour of the inn. Would it be too encroaching of me to attach myself to the party? I have a great fondness for these old and stately homes.”