Page 3 of Falling for a Footman

Two

London, Middle of July1811

James sighed with frustration as his pen splattered blobs of ink over the almost full page of the report that he had just finished. He quickly rose to pick to find something to dap the ink with in the hope that at least some of what he had just written could be used.

“I have an assignment that I think will be a good fit for you,” Harrowby announced as he entered their shared Bow Street office. He held up a piece of paper almost triumphantly and clearly expected James to participate in his joy immediately. When James did not, Harrowby walked to his own desk, positioned in front of the window, while James’s was along the wall. The rest of their small office was made up of a large bookcase.

“What is it?” James asked after a moment, as he had gotten the ink situation under control. It seemed that he could at least salvage some of the report. Then he would only have to rewrite the last part. He moved to stand behind Harrowby as he was reading the paper.

Harrowby did not answer right away, and James knew him well enough to know that he was a bit disappointed that James had not immediately jumped at his words. Harrowby had been his mentor with the Bow Street Runners for a year and the two had worked closely together on a number of cases by now. The last year James had seen Harrowby more often than his family and friends, and even so he was not certain whether he could call the two-year older man a friend or not.

“The Duke of Camborne has reported that a couple of candlesticks has been stolen from his country estate...” Harrowby searched the paper for the name.

“Great Farleigh Hall,” James supplied.

As always when James made comments that showed of his noble background, Harrowby would send him an almost scathing look. James shrugged slightly and made a move with a hand to urge Harrowby to go on. He had no more power over who his parents were than Harrowby had. It was only James’s luck that he had been born as the second son of a marquis, whereas Harrowby... well, the man had never confided much about his background, but it was safe to assume that his parents were not peers of the realm, nor closely related to them.

“Yes, the candlesticks were stolen from Great Farleigh Hall. Apparently, they were a gift from Charles II to the first duke of Camborne and extremely valuable,” Harrowby went on. He managed to say this as if it was somehow a personal offense to him how much the candlesticks were worth.

“So, are we going there?” James asked and motioned to the letter, but of course meant Great Farleigh Hall. He knew that it was in Somerset. They could be there in only a day or two, then interrogate the servants and find the culprit either among them or perhaps a workman or someone else that had had access to the estate. As far as James knew, the duke and his family were still in London for the end of the season, making it unlikely that it had been any of their visitors who had stolen it.

“No, or at least not me. You are,” Harrowby said and turned around in his chair with an uncharacteristically broad smile on his face. “My idea is that you will pose as a footman. You will gain the trust of the servants and be able to ask questions without them knowing that you are in fact interrogating them.”

James felt like a hunting dog that had caught scent. He was immediately intrigued by the idea, about finally being able to go undercover to solve a case. Harrowby was known as the best runner for undercover assignments. He was of middling height, about three or four inches shorter than James, had mouse brown hair and a non-descript face. James had seen him handle peers of the realm and fish mongers with the same ease, and despite Harrowby’s somewhat contrite nature, James was pleased to have been assigned to him as an apprentice.

Despite his eagerness, he had to ask:

“Is it not too small a task for me to be undercover? Surely, we will be able to find the culprit by a simple questioning of the staff?”

Harrowby pushed his chair back, meaning that James had to take several steps back as well to allow him space. He slowly rose and turned around to lean against his desk and folded his arms over his chest. James had to fight not to fidget with his hands. He hated when Harrowby treated him as a child that had asked a foolish question.

“It’s not because the case requires it that I want you to go undercover. It is for you to practice. This is a low-risk case where it should be easy for you to determine who has taken the candlesticks which makes it perfect practice for you.”

James nodded in agreement. Of course, going undercover during a murder investigation where you had no idea who the murderer was would be much more difficult, since you did not want to alert the murderer to your presence. And if you could endanger both yourself and others in doing so.

“There is only one problem though,” James began.

“That you are too handsome?” Harrowby drawled and a slight quirk of his mouth revealed that he was jesting.

James only made a face at his comment. It was a common joke between Harrowby and several of the other runners that James was too good-looking for the job. Surely, he turned female heads with his above average height, dark brown hair tied in a cue, and broad shoulders, but he liked to believe that it was not a hindrance for him to do his job.

“As we have talked about, that should only serve to my advantage,” James remarked and tried to keep a confident tone of voice, since he really did not know how else do deal with comments of this sort.

In his past he had used his good looks to gain the female attention he had wanted; as a runner he could see how it put most women at ease and made them more eager to confide in him in order to remain in his company. It was not something that he was particularly proud of, but he might as well use it as best he could.

“Well, there is that, I suppose,” Harrowby acknowledged. “Spit it out, Wolfe, what is your stipulation to going undercover?”

Even before James had asked Harrowby and the other runners to refer to him simply by his surname, Harrowby had not used James’s cursory title. It was one of the only ways that he truly let his disdain for the peerage slip through it seemed.

“It’s not about going undercover per se. It’s about going undercover in the Duke of Camborne’s household.” James allowed himself to cross his arms at this, because the urge to fidget became too strong. “I have met both the duke and duchess previously. It has been quite a few years...” Before he had left for the Peninsular that was, but still: “I am certain they will recognize me.”

Harrowby’s mouth moved for a moment, as if he was actually chewing on the information. Then he nodded slowly.

“Fine, you can tell the duke and duchess that you are undercover. But no one else. Part of the success of this investigation is that you need to be able to remain undercover at all times.”

James nodded and tried to think the whole matter through. Posing as a footman would be difficult for him with his background, but he suspected that Harrowby had anticipated that. Perhaps even counted on him to fail. But James would not.

He walked back to his desk as he thought of how to best prepare for the role. He did not have a lot of servants in his own household, a small townhouse that he rented. But he had known his parents’ butler his whole life. He could probably ask the man to help him prepare. He should also ask his parents whether Clementia could stay with them while he was away...