Content warnings can be found here

Chapter Thirteen

Peaches kept a smile fixed to her face and her hands locked behind her back as Hedge’s voice buzzed and droned away in that grave, critical manner. The two key blessings of getting back to town and away from bloody Fartenby were getting away from grey-faced Hedge and his endless fucking fault finding.

“And are you telling me, Henry, that my Lord received guests dressed in that fashion?”

“He forgot they was coming, sir.” 

“Then it was his gentleman’s place to remind him.”

“I bloody well tried, sir.”

“I will thank you not to use that language in front of me, Henry.”

She breathed out, exasperated, “Sorry, sir.”

“You have been away from my guidance a scant se’night, and there is already this backsliding.”

“I said that I’m sorry, sir.”

“It will not do, Peach.” There was silence for a moment, and then, as if he hadn’t been emphatic enough the first time, he repeated, “It will not do.”

Peaches resisted the urge to shove her hands into her pockets. That had always been the best bit about men’s clothes.

“Well. At least you were able to greet them properly attired.”

She bowed, “I endeavour to be a credit to the estate, sir.”

“Enough of that lip, Henry.”

She smiled at him but did not wink.

Hedge gave her a stern, grave, disappointed look. In their time at Forthenby, they hadn’t so much developed an uneasy peace as avoided each other as much as possible – trusting the other to their respective area of expertise. Hedge’s was the running of the estate, proper deportment, and the prompt fulfilment of duties. Hers was the more nebulous and challenging duty of getting Teddy to behave himself. 

“I should have sent Turning down here with you.” Like many suspicious yokels, Hedge refused to bestow upon London the usual honour of being ‘up’ from everywhere else in the country. “It was black day when you convinced me that would not be necessary.”

“You know as well as I do that Turning weren’t up for the journey, Mr Hedge.” Turning was not, in fact, the horror Teddy had feared he might be. A gentle, courteous old man, he had half a hundred insiders’ tricks to pass on to a young gentleman’s gentleman. 

Especially one to whom he had taken a such a shine as he had to Henry Peach. 

“Besides, Mr Turning’s got every confidence in me.”

“Hmm,” said Hedge, in that slow, meditative way of his, which let you know exactly how convinced he was by that.

“I’m doing what I can, sir. But you know what he’s like when he gets an idea in his head.”

“What kind of idea, Henry?” The suspicion in his voice was so thick it had a texture - wet wool.

“Any idea, sir,” she said. “You know that.”

“He’s not expressed any further interest in this... other business, has he, Peach?”

Euphemisms. At Forthenby, you drowned in the bloody things.
 
“Well, he bought a pair of duelling pistols and named ‘em, but I suspect that’s just a comfort thing.”

Hedge looked suspicious, but that was all she was giving him. “And with other gentlemen?”

“Remarkably courteous. Moderate in speech and action.”

 Well, for Teddy Valance, at least. 

“He really does seem committed to behaving himself, sir.”

“That is not an appropriate description to apply to your master, Peach.”

“Well, I’ve only seen him reach for his gage the once, then he laughed and let the insult go. So, I think ‘behaving’ covers it.”

Hedge stared at her, blank and implacable.

“My Lord seems committed to a course of prudence and tolerance in those matters, sir,” she said, not without an overlay of irony.

Hedge nodded. “And these ladies who are calling upon him. What of them?”

“A Mrs and Miss Tooting.”

“I do not know them.” 

Of course you bloody don’t. 

Something of it must have shown upon her face, because Hedge continued, “I am acquainted, by name at least, with all the families with whom it would be proper for Lord Forthenby to maintain acquaintance.”

“Yeah, but most of them ain’t going to be up town this time of year, are they?”

“Hmm. What do you know of Mr Tooting?”

Peaches shrugged. She’d quickly got used to memorising such horse-shit. “House in one of the decent towns just outside London. The last Mr Tooting was in trade, but retired a gentleman. This one married a Miss Lyon.”

“Any relation to Sir Alfred Lyon?”

“Buggered if I know, Mr Hedge. Maybe.”

Hedge’s expression did not change and he nodded slowly as he said, “I have warned you about your choice of expression, Peach.”

Peaches gave a pained smile.

“It is not fitting.”

“I ain’t going to curse in front of the quality, sir.”

“Nor should you curse in front of me. I am ashamed at you, Peach. I should never have accepted you into the household.”

“Not entirely sure you had much say in the matter,” she said, deliberately. 

Because Hedge hated to be reminded of that. He was the tyrant of Forthenby, and everyone from the newest scullery maid to Lady Charlotte Valance lived in fear of his judgement - even Teddy was cowed by him from time to time. As the only member of staff not entirely under his thumb, the only member not personally vetted and trained by him, there was something of a rebel faction gathering behind good, saucy Henry Peach. All the same, she wasn’t planning an outright mutiny.

Not yet, at least.

“I do believe, in fact, that a young Miss Lyon did marry a nuevo gentleman from around these parts.” 

Peaches was fairly convinced that, when Hedge came out with stuff like this, he was bluffing. 

“And if she is the grand-daughter of Sir Alfred, I doubt the connection can be too improper. My Lord has, of course, called upon Mr Tooting.”

Peaches smiled.

“Please say that I may take that as an affirmative, Henry.”

“I really wish I could reassure you on that count, sir.”

Hedge slowly raised his hands and rubbed his temples. “My Lord is receiving female visitors, in his dressing robe, when he has not called upon the gentleman of the house?”

“That’s about the shape of it, yes.”

“And Miss Tooting is...”

“Unmarried. As the name would suggest.”

“Oh, heaven preserve us. Has he committed any other improprieties?”

“You know how much my Lord relies upon my discretion, sir,” she said, with a little razor edge of smile.

“Henry Peach.”

“Alright. Alright. No. Not that I’m aware of. But he don’t tell me everything.”

“And his designs upon Miss Tooting. What of them?”

“I don’t think he plans to marry her.”

“Well, that’s a small mercy.”

Which was a little unkind. Serafina Tooting seemed a sweet creature, and if her unnervingly frank stares were anything to go by, she’d knew how to give Teddy the kind of hazing he richly deserved. Besides, it wouldn’t be going too far to say that she was beautiful. 

Peaches would tumble her in a heartbeat. 

“Miss Tooting seems like a good girl,” she said. “Sensible, intelligent, well spoken.”

“I hardly think you are the best judge of such things, Peach. All the same, would you say that his intentions are not honourable?”

She smirked. “Honestly, I think he’s just flirting.”

“I do not believe trifling with a young gentlewoman’s feelings is an honourable pursuit.”

“Yes, but it ain’t going to result in a scandal. She’s safe from him.”

“But is he safe from her?”

“I’m not even sure she likes him. I think it’s all to do with music, sir. Teddy’s...”

“Lord Forthenby, Peach.”

She sighed. “Lord Forthenby, has always had a fondness for the concert hall and the opera. Miss Tooting apparently sets a nice sound going on the ivories. He wanted to hear her play, and we had a piano standing idle.” 

It was a pretty bad lie, so she was not too surprised when Hedge looked at her suspiciously.

“Perhaps it would be better if my Lord could be persuaded to drop this acquaintance.”

“Oh, you want me to tell him that?”

Hedge stared at her.

“You can bloody well tell him that.”

He continued to stare at her.

“Sir.”

“The truth now. What are his intentions, Peach?”

“It’s not important,” she said. “It’s nothing to worry you.”

“I believe I shall be the judge of that.”

“Look, sir, if there’s a crisis, I’ll send a messenger. If he calls anyone out, I’ll send a messenger. We agreed this before I left.”

“That was before this state of affairs was permitted to arise.”

"I’ve been trying, sir. You think I want him embroiled in duels and court cases?”

“Perhaps it would be better were I to remain in town. To offer you my support.”

“He won’t like that,” Peaches said.

She took Hedge’s silence to mean that he didn’t give a damn whether Teddy liked it of not. 

“I ain’t going to be the one that tells him.”

Hedge smiled thinly. “I do not believe we need trouble my Lord with that information.”

“You want me to go behind his back?” Her hand crept near the hilt of her shiv. “I think we covered the extent to which I ain’t willing to play that game, Mr Hedge.”

“I am not asking you to deceive him, Henry. I am asking you to act in his interests. For his own protection.”

“What kind of protection ?”

Hedge nodded in his usual, cold, reasonable way. “If my Lord should find himself in a difficulty from which he seems unwilling, or unable, to extricate himself, then I shall be here to assist you in ensuring his safety.” He paused, “I feel it safe to say I have some experience of such matters.”

I’ll bet you do.

“My experience, and any other resources at my command, are at the disposal of the Earl of Forthenby. Whether he believes himself to require them, or not.”

Peaches wanted to tell him to go stuff himself. 

She very nearly did tell him to go stuff himself, but then she remembered the cold morning mists, the way Teddy would check his pistols and walk out into the still darkness with them, grinning as though he were merely leaving her bed to take the air. 

She remembered how it felt to watch him go, not knowing if he would return again. Remembered the smooth silver of his scars under her hands.

 She thought about what she knew of Dickie Thornton, of his violence. His ruthlessness.

“I don’t like it,” she said.

“I do not need you to like it.”

 “You’ll have to stay out of his way. Not let him know you’re here. And don’t...”

“I am aware of how unseemly it would be if I were seen to interfere in my Lord’s pleasures.” He did not place a touch of emphasis on ‘seen’, but she caught his meaning. “Just as it is unseemly for you to lay conditions upon me.”

“But you’ll trust my judgement,” she said, aware that she was pleading. “Don’t come marching in until it’s really necessary. Don’t go messing him about. Leave managing Teddy to me.”

“Advise,” Hedge corrected. “One does not manage one’s master.”

“But you’ll leave it to me.”

“If you’ll remember to address him as Lord Forthenby,” Hedge paused.

“Yes,” she said, “Yes, alright.”