Caroline hovered by the entrance to the kitchen, a place within her home she rarely dignified with her presence. She always had their cook come to see her in the morning room after breaking her fast to go over the following days menu and entertaining plans. Caroline had never mixed well with her staff, she simply saw no incentive. In general she hired and fired as she pleased thus giving her no reason to know any of them further.
Her mood had little improved since her midday quarrel with her sister. She had tried to call on her at home with the intention of trying to smooth things over, but she had been informed her sister was not present. She knew this was certain to be a lie, which had only added to her dark mood.
Clearing her throat she entered the kitchen to find Mr Manning alone at the large wooden table reading from the days paper. He jumped to his feet instantly upon recognition.
"Miss Bingley but what ever is the matter" Charles' valet asked with growing concern. He had never seen his masters sister downstairs before.
"Calm yourself Mr Manning, I am merely looking for Mrs Peters. Cook told me she would ask her to come to me this afternoon yet it is now gone six and still I have not seen hide nor hair of her."
Relaxing upon realisation that the young Miss Bingley had no chagrin with his person, Mr Manning replied;
"But it is Tuesday Miss. Mrs Peters finishes at two on a Tuesday. Always has." He looked at her with growing concern. "Are you sure all is well?"
"Of course it is Tuesday," Caroline repeated, the irritation in her voice evident. "Tell me Mr Manning, how far is it to the Peters' residence? Would I require the carriage?"
"Now Miss Bingley, what could be so urgent that you would need to go calling on Mrs Peters at her home? She will be back in the morning long before the house awakens."
Caroline turned upon hearing the voice of Mrs Cockburn, the housekeeper.
"I have a private matter I wish to discuss with Mrs Peters that is all. The matter is of no concern to you Mrs Cockburn."
"If the young mistress feels the need to call upon one of the house staff, my staff, then I feel it my duty to know the reason."
Caroline scowled at the housekeeper, she had never liked the bloody woman. Her mother had given her far too much free reign in the running of the house. A liberty she still exploited to this day. She had never paid Caroline the respect she believed she was due, being that she recognised the elder brother as master, not his youngest sister. Caroline had begged Charles repeatedly to let the old badger go, yet it was the one thing with regards to the running of the house where he would not be swayed. She had pleased mother, hence he saw no reason change the position. It was his one interference in terms of the running of the house.
"Perhaps Mrs Cockburn you would do well to remember your place." She turned her attention back to the young Mr Manning, watching him swallow nervously. "Now tell me, where can I find Mrs Peters?"
Mrs Cockburn cast the valet a sharp look implying that he should hold his tongue. "Perhaps we should speak with your brother if the matter is so urgent it cannot wait until the morning. I am sure if we seek Mr Bingley he will be more than willing to resolve whatever issue you may have with Mrs Peters."
"I have no issue with Mrs Peters," Caroline fumed, stamping her foot in a most unbecoming childish manner.
"Wonderful then the matter is sorted. I will personally send Mrs Peters to see you after Mary has finished helping with your toilette. Now, is there anything else I can help you with Miss Bingley? For we are about to ready the staff evening meal and I do not believe you will wish to make one of the party."
Caroline scowled at the old crone. "No, on that point you are quite correct," she huffed before returning to her part of the house.
Xxxxx
Montague stood upon Chapel Street surveying and large red brick building which stood before him on the opposite side of the road. If he had not known better he would simply believe the house to be like any another. Yet he knew this was no typical boarding house. He observed a pair of gentleman dressed in long navy coats as they rang the bell of number twenty three. He watched as the door opened, and following a quick exchange the men slithered inside, the door firmly closing behind them.
He looked at his fob, it was only a little after nine. Rather too early he would have thought for a large crowd to be already happily situated within. If he was lucky he could be in an out swiftly before many a gentleman's evening began. He knew it was unwise to go in alone, yet he wanted to remain as low profile as possible. Biting the bullet he strode across the street and pulled the bell.
The door opened slowly, a tall figure backlight from the candles within blocking the entryway. "Can I help you?"
"Yes...well I was wondering," Montague faltered taking in the mass of a man before him. "Well really what I would like is admittance. I am only in Scarborough a short duration and was told this was the place in which to best spend an evening."
"Is that so," replied the doorman; "and just who told you such a thing?"
He was aware of movement to the side of the large gentleman, someone else was present.
"I really do not think that is any concern of yours. I would have thought my coin just as worthy as any mans." Montague stood straight his chest puffed out, his mind thinking fast. "I was not aware I would be interrogated upon my arrival. If I wished for the Spanish inquisition I would have spent the evening with my wife."
A high-pitched laugh filled the air as the door drew wider.
"Well you heard the man, Suggs," laughed a pretty redhead; "no man should be expected to spend the evening in the company of his wife. Especially when his coin is as worthy as any mans."
The redhead beamed at him, taking in his handsome face and the sharp crisp tailoring of his dark grey coat with silver buttons. Placing her arm in the crook of his elbow she practically pulled him through the doorway, leading him along the corridor into a nearby parlour.
The décor was tasteful, much to Montagues surprise. Nothing too lavish, everything delicate and considered. He drew his attention back to his companion as she dropped his arm gesturing for him to take a seat.
She stood before him, dressed in a graceful gown of dark burgundy. The dress was neither gaudy nor vulgar, which had been his first assumption. Her hair was piled high upon her head with small white flowers placed artfully between each curl. Her skin was pale and her complexion bright. She seemed far too lovely and far too genteel to belong to such an establishment. Perhaps he had the wrong address?
"I am sorry," he began; "but this is Mrs Yates boarding house?"
"Of course it is," the girl laughed walking towards the sideboard in order to pour a drink for the new gentleman. She could tell by his appearance he was not short of a bob or two, plus he was young and handsome. She was not about to lose him to another girl. She knew who her regular was to be this evening. Let some other girl pleasure the old miserable Turnpike. As long as old Bea did not find out no one would be any of the wiser.
She smiled at him from under long lashes as she handed him the drink allowing her hand to linger against his. Montague had to hold back the urge to laugh. It was neither wonder men were so easily manipulated by a pretty woman.
"What is your name?" He asked taking a tiny sip of the liquid in order to cement his part.
"That depends," smiled the girl settling herself on the armrest next to him. "Do you wish for me to be anyone in particular?"
"I wish to know you," he replied. He smiled at her trying to coax her trust, all the while straining his hearing in order to hear if anyone else was in their vicinity.
"Most folk call me Red," she replied, placing a hand lightly upon his forearm.
"Yet I am not most people," he smiled returning the game. "I am not interested in most people."
"Becky, my name is Becky."
"Edward Colville at your service." The words were out his mouth before he registered what falsehood he had just spoken. Bugger! Well it was not as though his friend the viscount was likely to frequently a whorehouse in Scarborough.
"May I call you Eddie," she purred sliding further down the arm rest until she was leaning heavily against his thigh.
"Not if you wish to live and tell the tale," he replied in jest moving his arm to the small of her back.
He could feel her practically preen against his touch. It saddened him, she knew her part well; he could only wonder at how long she had been in such a role. "Tell me how old are you Becky?"
"How old would you like me to be Edward?" she cooed placing a hand upon his thigh.
He removed his hand from the small of her back and placed it once again on the arm rest.
"I am seventeen," she replied hurriedly, practically placing herself upon his knee. "But do not worry for I know how to make a man happy. Have no fear Edward, I shall take excellent care of you."
"I am most certain that you could." He paused trying to formulate his next move. "It is just, well my tastes shall we say, run a little stronger than that of a girl of just eighteen." He moved to push her from his lap, "perhaps you would allow me a word with your superior."
"Why would you wish to speak to the Madame when you can keep me all to yourself? I am more than capable. We have not even discussed what it is you are looking for." She moved in order to straddle his lap but sensing her plan he stood quickly resulting in the girl landing rather uncouthly upon the floor.
"By Madame I assume you means Mrs Yates?" he asked sternly. He wanted to pull the girl to her feet, but he could not quite risk showing weakness so soon.
"Do you know Mrs Yates?" Becky asked her eyes narrowing in thought as she knelt on the floor. What had just happened? She thought she was onto a sure thing. "I should think myself more to your liking."
"Becky do not displease me, I wish to speak to Mrs Yates."
"I am Mrs Yates," spoke a voice from the open parlour door. A middle aged woman entered with dark hair greying at the temples, her face still handsome. Behind her the large bulk of Suggs could be seen in the shadows of the hall. She looked at the unknown gentleman coldly, studying him up and down before turning her harsh gaze upon the girl at his feet.
"What have I told you before about knowing your place? Every new client is brought to me immediately, do you understand?" She moved forward swiftly grabbing Becky by the arm and hauling her to her feet. "You know full well you are otherwise engaged this evening. Get to your room and wait. I shall deal with you directly."
Glazing back at Montague, he watched as the young girl ran from the room, closing the parlour door behind her.
"Do not be too harsh on her Madame. I am sure she meant well."
"She must learn to know her place," Mrs Yates replied casually as she continued to study his appearance. She did not know his face, but he was indeed dressed just as fine as Suggs had informed her. The cut of his coat was expensive, as were his shoes and top hat. She did not trust new faces, but she was also not about to lose his business if she did not need to. "And you are?"
"Edward Colville. I am in Scarborough only a few nights. A friend of mine recommend I pay a visit."
"And is this reason enough to find you asking for me by name, Mr Colville?" Her dark eyes gave nothing away as she stood facing him. She wore a dress of deep blue, her arms covered by a shawl of black lace. Just like the young girl she appeared elegant, entirely well put together; again nothing like he would of expected for a small town whorehouse.
"I prefer to deal with those in charge," he replied, taking his seat once more upon the sofa and lifting his barely touched glass. "Tends to avoid unpleasant scenes such as the one I was just loathed to witness."
"My apologies Mr Colville. It shall not happen again I assure you. Now, perhaps if you would be so kind as to tell me who recommended you to my humble establishment, I might be in a better position to determine what it is you seek."
He lifted the tumbler slowly to his lips, letting the liquid merely touch his tongue in hope that she believed him taking a mouthful of refreshment.
"Why my good friend Alfred of course."
He watched her eyebrows raise at the mention of her patrons name. She took the seat opposite him, draping the fabric of her gown around her like a cushion.
"I was not aware Mr Bingley was in the habit of sending guests my way."
"He is currently staying with a friend of mine in London. Excellent fellow. Told him I was travelling to see relations in Whitby, said I should drop by for a visit if I felt myself in need of some entertainment. Seems he and I have similar tastes. Furthermore," he grinned at her, "the horses needed a rest."
She leaned back in her chair. It really was a refreshing change to see a man so young and handsome. She knew Alfred was in London, he had told her he would be away over a fortnight. She had no claim over his time, even if she wished to. She took in Mr Colville's dark eyes and broad shoulders. She would more than happily give him an evening of her time if that is what Alfred promised, yet it was not like him. Lord knows Bingley paid little heed to his girls, it took all her resolve to keep his attention.
"I am rather surprised," Montague continued, his courage rising. "Forgive me but your house is much, how to put this delicately; not quite what I was expecting."
"Mr Colville, if that be the case perhaps you have mixed my establishment with several others under Mr Bingley's patron."
"But it is your name of which he spoke."
"For I am the only house in which he personally takes pleasure. The rest are purely business. Perhaps you should simply tell me the sort of entertainment you wish to enjoy and I can send you in the right direction?"
"Oh I think we both know I am very much in the right place."
"My girls are of the highest calibre."
"Oh of that I have no doubt."
She eyed him cautiously. "Why are you here Mr Colville? Let us not play games. You are not interested in my girls, what is it you seek?"
"I wish for information."
"I shall give you until the count of five to get out before I call for my man Suggs. He does not take kindly to men I wish to be removed from my establishment."
"Now steady my dear," Montague laughed raising his hands in defeat. "And here I was thinking we were getting along quite well." He reached into his top coat pocket and pulled out several rolled notes. Never dropping eye contact, he placed the money on the table between them. "I am simply asking for some information, you shall never see me nor hear from me again. I promise you."
"And why should I tell you anything? What is it you wish to know?"
"You may not be able to tell me anything of use, and by that I mean no disrespect. You are acquainted with the son, but tell me did you also know Mr Matthew Bingley?"
He saw her eye twitch, though she composed herself quickly. "He is the late father of Alfred Bingley. Why do you ask?"
"I am looking for information with regards to a group of young girls who were in his care over twenty years ago. I am trying to locate two girls in particular whom I merely wish to speak with. Tell me how long have you been involved with Alfred Bingley? I know he and his father both ran establishments similar to this for many years."
"Not similar to this," she spoke fiercely. "Do not dare compare those places to what I have achieved here. We are no common house. My girls are as close to a mistress as they can be. Some of them even leave in order to be so. Do not dare compare us to those cesspits."
"My apologies, I was not implying anything. We seem to have gone off track. I merely wish to know if you have ever heard the name Alice Price, Alice Smyth or Beatrice Dunn?"
He watched as her hands grasped the arm of the chair tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"Why are you asking about those three?"
"Because all three of them were under Matthew Bingley's roof at the same time as mere children. I need to know how they came to be in his care. I believe all three came from the Waterhouse workhouse."
"You are wrong."
"So you knew of them?" He asked his excitement building. He gazed at her intently, she looked perhaps around forty. Could she have known them?
"Alice Price and Alice Smyth were both taken from the workhouse but not at the same time. Regardless lots of girls came to work for Matthew Bingley."
"Yes, but these girls did not just work for the gentleman in the conventional sense, did they Mrs Yates?" Montague encouraged gently, worried his eagerness would spook her. He nodded to the money on the table. "I promise, please it is just information that I seek."
"Alice Price would not have been yet twelve the first time I met her."
"You also worked at the haberdashery?" He asked surprised.
She looked at him, her eyes now heavy. "I was known as Beatrice Dunn back then. Alfred was no more than a boy himself. His pa used to frequent a place back then ran by the Turnpikes, a sort of collection of girls for every taste. The place is long gone now. Alfred saw to that. Alfred is many things but he does not operate like his father.
His pa liked them young with dark hair. I should know for I was one of them. Often there was a few of us at time, he always grew bored you see. Girls never lasted, they would just disappear. I was better in the shop than many, one of the reasons it was still my home."
She paused, deep in thought.
"Everything changed when he found Alice. She was his new little project. She was so beautiful, all them dark curls and huge brown eyes. Turnpike had not been willing to part with her. She was a good earner but Matthew wanted her for his own. He was besotted with her. More so than any of the others. And she knew it. Even though she gave him grief, he spoilt her. She had only been here a month when he brought her a friend from the workhouse for company. Little blonde thing, he had no interest in her, yet Alice wouldn't let the scrawny wee thing out her sight."
"Alice Smyth?"
"Somehow she felt responsible for the girl. And whatever Alice Price wanted, Alice Price got. Even though she fought him all the way. A temper like fire and thunder. That just amused him. He wanted to break her spirit, that was his fascination. Even his wife knew this girl was different. Lost his head to that girl he did."
"What do you mean?"
"She became his obsession. He barely looked at me or any other girl. She told us it was better she hold his attention than for all of us to feel his wrath. And what a temper he had. But he screwed up with her. Got her pregnant and had no intention of sending her away like the others before. His wife was so angry, told him she wanted us all gone. He only laughed at her, told her she could go. He wanted to marry Alice you see."
"I thought he threw Alice out when he found out she was with child?"
She laughed bitterly. "Who told you such a thing? He had no intention of giving that girl up. No, she ran off with his youngest brother in the middle of the night. Got her claws into him so she did. Always on the look out to better her position that girl. She was a calculating little thing, couldn't help herself, knew the effect she had on men and she used it."
"Do not you think that a rather harsh statement? You were mere children, surely she was just trying to find a way out?"
"You could never understand the world in which we lived. She knew what she was doing. Knew which side her bread was buttered did that one. It seemed no man could say no to her. Took little Alice with her but just left me. She left me to deal with the mess. He looked for her, knew it was his brother, drove a massive wedge in the family. I heard he even married her. Though I never saw her again."
"You say she took Alice with her? Do you know what became of her?"
Mrs Yates shook her head. "Do you think I cared what happened to the pair of them? They did not care for me. His wife could no longer hide her hatred towards him, threw him out, poisoned his relationship with his son. Bought a place on Hampton Lane, a real sordid house. Took me when he left. I was at Hampton for a year before Alfred got me out. Alfred has ways taken care of me."
"I was under the impression the son and father worked together?"
"Alfred never worked with his father," she laughed at his stupidity. "He took over. Long before his old man died Alfred ran his business, expanded it and took control of other establishments throughout town. His mother saw to it that Alfred hated the man. She wanted him to push him out, beat him at his own game. Alfred wasn't even eighteen when his dad was no more than another of the hired help. Oh it was all kept civil at face value, got to keep up appearances; but even the Turnpikes work for him now. He is a successful business man. But he is not cruel like his father."
"You speak of him rather highly." Montague watched the woman closely. Alfred had set her up with her own establishment, that implied some level of care.
"Alfred has taken care of me always. We were children together. He has been good to me, and the girls within my care."
"Would I be correct in assuming your relationship is more than platonic?"
"What business is that of yours? I think I have told you all I am willing to share." She leaned forward collecting the roll of notes. "Why not just seek Alice Price or Bingley if that is who she be now. What business have you in asking about Alfred?"
He watched the woman, his mind running in tangents. He was not sure he could gain any more information that would be of use. It was all hearsay, he had no written proof nor was he likely to find any. Mrs Yates he was certain would not stand as a witness. His next question was simply how far he wished to push her.
"Do you know why Alfred is in London?"
"I am not his keeper."
"He is staying with the Bingley's."
"I do not understand. "Why would Alfred seek them out?"
Montague was still uncertain of that answer. It appeared Alfred was in no way in need of financial gain. Montague had found nothing with regards to the brothers entering into business together. And if Mrs Yates was correct, he highly doubted Matthew Bingley would willing give Charles' father money after running off with his young mistress. He had nothing really to gain from exposing Charles as his brother other than the ruin of Charles and his families reputation. Was this his intention? He knew Alfred's mother had just passed. Could this threat on Charles be some sort of revenge for his mother's humiliation? Anger men were not always logical...unless...
"What was Alfred's relationship with Alice Price?"
He watched her expression sour. "She was nothing more to him than the girl who ruined his family. He hated her for what she did to him and his mother."
"But she did not ruin his family. His father did that. She was an innocent little girl preyed upon by men. You all were."
"There is nothing innocent about Alice Price. You do not know her I assume? For if you did you too would be wrapped around her little finger." Suddenly her expression changed; "Is he with Alice?"
Montague stood, ready to take his leave. There was nothing more to be gained here. He had heard quite enough. He looked at the woman with pity. Her jealous expression told him all he needed to know. Alfred may have hated Alice Bingley, but it likely was not always the case.
"Alice Bingley has long left this world."
"Then Alfred is safe to do as he pleases with that family. I ain't his keeper and I ain't privy to his plans."
"It would appear no one is," Montague replied, taking his leave. He exited the parlour heading the short distance towards the main door where the large bulk of Suggs still stood guard.
Entering Chapel Street once more Cedric headed south in the direction of his lodgings. Turning the corner he felt a sudden pain explode across his back, knocking the wind out of him, sending him flying on all fours to the ground. Another blow found his face hitting the pavement before everything went black.