Page 9 of The Secret Word
“I’ve told ’im I’ll pay ’im to give you lady lessons,” Father said. “Keep him close, like, so I can see what ’e’s made of.”
“Lady lessons!” Clem exclaimed, moderating her tone immediately to say, “I havehadlessons in how to be a lady, Father.”
“I should know. I’ve paid enough for them,” Father grumbled. “Ye speak right, and ye know all the fancy-pants manners, but ye don’t talk right, Clementine, no matter how much I whip ye for it. Talking business! And worse things. Politics, they tell me. Arguin’ with gennelemen, as if any man wants a woman who thinks she knows better ’n ’im. But it don’t matter none. It’s just to keep ’im close till I decide whether I want ’im. And if I do, my girl, it don’t matter what ye and ’im think, so ye might as well make up yer mind to it. I’ll see ye wed, or out in the street in yer shift, my girl.”
“He might not agree, Father,” she couldn’t help but protest, and on another day that might have won her a bruise or two, but Father was in a good mood, for he just laughed.
“’E won’t ’ave no more choice than ye, Clementine. I’ll find somefin’ on ’im. Trust yer old da for that. Now run along. Tell Cook I’ll be out for dinner.” He was already standing up and putting on the coat and hat that he kept by the outside door from the study.
He had a habit of coming and going that way to avoid the notice of his servants, for he’d spent so many years paying other people’s servants to provide him with information that he used in his business dealings, that he had no trust in his own household. He paused with his hand on the door. “Run along, I tell ye.”
Clementine left, but she heard the outer door close and lock again as she went. In the hall, she called for Martha, and waited, the ire she did not dare release on her father fueling her anger with the faithless. lazy maid.
“Martha,” she shouted at last. “Stop cavorting with Charles and come here this instant.”
Charles was one of two footmen currently sharing Martha’s favors, and Clem happened to know that Frederick, her other paramour, had been sent to take the mail to the posting house.
The strategy of shouting Martha’s perfidy outside of Father’s study produced rapid results. Martha hurried down the stairs, tying her apron and tucking her hair back into her cap. “Miss! Are you trying to get me dismissed?”
“That is one of my options,” Clem told her. “As it happens, Father has gone out, but remember this, Martha. I know things about your behavior when you are out of Father’s sight that you would prefer Father did not know, and now Mr. Satterthwaite has seen them, too. And I have matters I would prefer Father didn’t know. Keep my secrets and treat me with respect as your employer, and your secrets are safe with me. If not… I am the daughter of the house, and about to fulfill Father’s ambitions for him. If he has to choose between us, who do you think will lose?”
And so, the day was not a complete loss. She had been tricked into putting herself into danger, had nearly discovered at first-hand what the old ladies meant when they talked about “a fate worse than death”, and had been told she had no choice in whom she would marry. On the other hand, she had discovered how to get at least reluctant cooperation from her maid.
Whether Mr. Satterthwaite went on the plus or minus side of the ledger remained to be seen.
Chapter Four
Chris fully expectedto be summoned by Ramping Billy as soon as he returned to his office at Fortune’s Fool, and sure enough, he had not been seated above a minute before one of the herd of small boys that infested the gambling den poked his head around the corner and said, “Billy wants yuh, Fingers.”
Actually, Tom was not that small anymore. Good food and good treatment had prompted a growth spurt. Like many of Billy’s boys, he had no memory of his mother and only a random guess at his own age, but Tom was probably older than most of the other boys, though he’d not been here as long as some.
He was a bright lad, and no doubt Billy was taking his time to decide what best to do with him.
Billy’s study was just along the corridor from Chris’s, though it was four or more times the size of his own and much more elegantly appointed. “Himself wanted to see me,” he told Tiny, who was lounging against the door.
Tiny straightened, knocked, opened the door, and yelled, “Fingers to see yuh, Boss.”
At Billy’s “Send him in,” Tiny stepped out of the way so Chris could enter the room.
When Billy chose to be inscrutable, as he did now, it was impossible to tell his mood from his voice or his face. His expression was neutral, his voice bland as he greeted Chris. “Christopher.”
“Sir.”
“Sit. Tell me how Wright reacted.”
How had Wright reacted? “He appeared gleeful, sir. The kidnapping and the danger to his daughter, he more or less dismissed. His main focus seemed to be on me. He recognized my name, or rather, he asked me if I was related to Reginald Satterthwaite.”
Billy nodded. “Carry on.”
“He seems to think I can be useful to him. He wants a husband for his daughter who will give him a doorway into the ton but be completely under his control. He thinks I might be that man.” Chris’s attempt to be as emotionless as Billy failed when he added, “He doesn’t care what his daughter thinks about it. He intends to force her into a marriage to please himself.”
“That offends you? It is common enough.”
“Yes, it offends me. Just because it is common doesn’t make it right.” And there went any facade of indifference.
His boss allowed himself a small smile. “You care what happens to the girl.” It was not a question.
Chris didn’t argue the point. Billy was right, as usual, though why Clem affected him so, he had no idea. “He’ll soon realize I am useless to his schemes. I have no links to the ton.”
