This morning, he had read an outrageous account and had set off to Dutch House to confirm if it were even true. He’d sent for Gerard, the king’s senior handler.
Gerard lumbered into the room and sat heavily on a chair. Jasper had learned long ago that there would be no bowing and scraping from this fellow. Gerard had no respect at all for rank and had years ago punched the Earl of Wainscot over a remark the fellow had made about the king’s coat—that remark having had the bad luck to be overheard in a corridor of the palace. Another servant might have been at least dismissed, if not jailed. But Gerard did love the king and he was valued because of it. He was loyal and would lay down his life for him and that was far more important than toadying. Or punching an earl. Wainscot had been told to apply ice to his eye and say no more about it.
“This report,” Jasper said, laying the page of the paper down on the desk, “of the king stopping a carriage and suggesting the coachman bury it to get two. Did this really happen?”
“Aye, though I didn’t think to see it in the papers,” Gerard said. “He’s getting more and more clever about getting out. He waited until food arrived, knowing his buckles would be undone to eat. Then, he switched his cup with the handler overseeing his meal and so the handler took the calming draught and fell asleep while the king sauntered out. It is not secure enough here, we ought to make the move to Windsor soon.”
“But why did you not alert me at once?”
“Why didn’t you know all about it from your own people?” Gerard asked. “T’was your own carriage that he stopped.”
“Mycarriage?” Jasper asked.
“T’was your pa’s coat of arms on the door,” Gerard said.
Jasper sat back. That would mean that it had been Jenny and Miss Wilcox in that carriage.
“And nobody else saw him? Not a farmer in his field, not anybody passing by?”
Gerard shrugged. “Could’a happened, I guess.”
“But if not, that would mean…”
“Aye,” Gerard said. “The report came from your own household. Seems anybody thatcanwill tell tales of my poor king. If I could discover the rotter, I’d knock his eyes out of his head.”
Since then, Jasper had left Kew and returned home. Carstares confirmed the case, though he said it was a short encounter and ought not be spoken of. Jasper then collared the two grooms who had been with the carriage. They did not in the least deny it and reported that the footmen had claimed that Jenny had told the story at the servants’ table. He now understood that, thanks to Jenny, it could be anybody who had passed the tale to the newspapers.
Though, when he thought about it, he decided he could safely rule out the grooms and the footmen, all who would have seemed a deal more nervous had they been guilty. The coachman, Carstares, had been with them for fifteen years and rarely spoke to anybody, much less a newspaper. Jenny was too silly to have managed such a thing and would have kept the story to herself if she planned to sell it. Perry was out of the question, as he’d rather die than besmirch the family’s honor. Marcus was a keen admirer and defender of the king. That left some of the other servants, though none of them seemed very likely.
And yet, there had been one person in that carriage that he knew little about. That one person had denied anything unusual occurring on her journey. Why had Miss Wilcox pretended that nothing had happened? Why had she kept the encounter a secret?
Where had the lady come from anyway? Would it be plausible, or even possible, that the king and queen’s enemies had sent one of their own into his very house? In the guise of an innocent-seeming young lady?
It seemed farfetched, but then little of what had happened in the past few years sounded within the realm of reasonable. There was a game afoot and he could not know what these people would stoop to. He did not even know who they were or what they wanted. Was it someone merely disgruntled over some matter, or was it the young pretender’s grandson, Charles Edward Stuart, Count Roehenstart, with a more devilish plan in mind?
It would seem dubious that there would be another Stuart run at the crown, but that did not mean much—every upheaval in history had seemed dubious before it actually happened. If the Stuart did have some hopes, might he not attempt to show the king’s madness in a thousand different ways before positing that it was an inherited condition, and the British people might look forward to many more mad kings?
The man was reported to be in Russia; could the Tsar have initiated some kind of plot? Alexander had only recently broken with Napoleon and lifted the blockade against the British—was that part of a grander plan? If it were, how else to depose the current royal line than claim they were not fit?
There had been whispers for years, since the very first bout of madness, that it might be inherited. Stuart would be in his late twenties by now. If one planned to stage a coup, this would be the time to do it.
Jasper did not know if that was the scheme, but it would be helpful if the regent would present himself as a stable and judicious man, rather than acting the indulgent fool.
Still, could Miss Wilcox really be involved in any of it? Or was he allowing his imagination to run away from him?
He supposed the one thing he had learned this past year was to trust his instincts and that things were often not what they seemed.
He would have to find out more about Miss Georgiana Wilcox.
Chapter Four
As Jasper satin the library debating how exactly he would find out more about the lady, Perry brought in a coffee tray and set it down on the table.
Behind the butler, a loud cacophony suddenly erupted from the drawing room. It seemed as if it might be the pianoforte, but not as he had ever heard it before. Had a housemaid fallen on it? But then why did it go on as it did? Why did it not stop?
Perry swung around and stared at the open door. He hurried toward it and closed it.
“What is that racket?” Jasper asked.
