Page 57 of Debtor’s Daughter

Chapter 16

Reward of Fifteen Pounds.

For any information pertaining to the whereabouts of Miss Constance Merrivale. Information to be addressed to Mr P Chambers. Ridgeley House, Belgravia, London.

―Excerpt from a notice in the London Morning Chronicle.

6th November 1850, Hyde Park, London.

“And then this one appeared this morning,” Mrs Finchley said, holding out a second cutting for Larkin to look at.

Larkin held the small clipping carefully as the chill breeze tried to snatch it from his fingers. Aunt Connie was walking ahead with Miss Caroline, who had quite unexpectedly bumped into Lord Harry and Mr Abner.

“Fifteen pounds this time?” he exclaimed in surprise. “Whoever it is seems to be impatient to find her.”

“Wallace does not believe it is Mr Jenkins, but we do not know who Mr Chambers is. Wallace believes he is merely a steward or the like, working on their employer’s behalf,” she said, looking to him for confirmation of this.

“I would agree. Not at all in Jenkins’ style to offer such a lavish reward from what we know of him, and Belgravia? I don’t see how he could manage that. Those houses are worth a fortune.”

“That’s what Wallace said,” she replied, looking relieved. “But Auntie is determined to visit and discover for herself who is behind it.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” Larkin asked, aware of her anxiety.

“Oh, yes! Yes, I would very much,” she said at once, and then looked appalled at her own enthusiasm. “I mean—”

“Oh, no,” Larkin teased her. “Don’t back down now. I am feeling very pleased with the fervour of your reply. I beg you will not burst my bubble so soon.”

She laughed a little self-consciously and shook her head. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said with chagrin, gesturing between the two of them. “I’m not sure I ever did.”

“Do what?” Larkin asked innocently.

She sent him an impatient look and huffed, which just made his smile all the broader. He leaned down close to her ear and whispered.

“You’re doing wonderfully well,” he said, delighted when she gave his arm a playful smack.

“You’re a dreadful tease,” she complained, but did not look displeased by the fact.

“When would you like to visit this mysterious person, then?” he asked. “I could take you this afternoon, if you’d like.”

She frowned. “I thought you wished to begin Caro’s portrait today?”

“I do, but I suspect your aunt will fret herself to death and you too, if we do not go at once.”

Mrs Finchley nodded. “She’s on fire to see who is so anxious to find her. I’ve had the devil’s own job making her wait until today to show you and see if you would accompany us.”

“Then today it shall be.”

6th November 1850, Ridgeley House, Belgravia, London.

Later that afternoon, they stood looking up at the white stuccoed magnificence of Ridgeley House. The houses here were relatively new, having been built only ten years earlier, and boasted many modern conveniences. Though none of them could think of who they might know who could afford such an elegant mansion, the ladies steeled themselves to discover the truth as Mr Weston led them up the stairs under a marble portico. The door magically opened before they could apply the knocker, to reveal a grand butler who asked them their business.

Larkin handed the man his card, adding, “And this is Miss Connie Merrivale, who I believe Mr Chambers has been looking for? Is this his house, perchance?”

“Mr Chambers is steward here at Ridgeley House,” the butler intoned, with the suggestion that he was doing them a great favour by confiding this information.

Maggie could only feel relief at Mr Weston’s presence, for he seemed merely amused by the butler’s self-importance whilst Maggie feared she might not have held up under his stony-faced grandeur.

“Then whose house is it?” Aunt Connie demanded, clearly no more cowed by the butler than Larkin was.