Free Death of a Fop (Bow Street Consultant series Book 1) by Sarah Waldock

of hers was popping in and out, such a tiny, half hidden dimple, hardly a dimple at all in a face that should have more colour, be less thin and drawn….. she was laughing. He heaved a sigh of relief.
    “Gawd Mr Armitage you do have your uses” murmured Fowler as he served Caleb “That ruddy girl will be the death of me straight up she will.”
    So Mr Fowler had the tones of London beneath his carefully cultivated nob voice, thought Caleb. Well if he can do it, so can I.
    “Comes of being in the army… I was a sergeant” he breathed back.
    “Mr Armitage! If you’d only let me know earlier you were respectable I shouldn’t have taken snuff at you” said Fowler and straightened up to move on to get the next dish.
    Caleb gave a silent whistle. That top-lofty footman had unbent seemingly! Well as an ally he was easier to take than as an undeclared enemy. And he was loyal enough to Mrs Churchill; and Molly the tweenie had told him that it was because Mr Fowler had been sent by the Mistress to pawn her own necklace – not the family one – to pay the wages of all the servants before the master got plumper in the pockets because Molly had overheard it with her own ears while she was cleaning under the table. Fowler knew where he was well off.
    Caleb resolved to tell him that the Master was involved in something that might bring the mistress a reward; without going into unnecessary detail he could get the immobile-faced servant as an even closer ally for Mrs Churchill’s sake.
     
    “So what does happen if I’m in the family way?” persisted Dolly when she and Jane withdrew, leaving Caleb looking dubiously at the bottle of port.
    “Well I should think that it would be best for you and the child if I adopt him or her to grow up with Frances” said Jane “Of course if it is a boy he would not inherit; illegitimates are barred from inheritance, though I should think if I have any rights over my husband’s estates I could make a fair provision. And you shall then be an aunt; will that suit you?”
    Dolly looked wistful.
    “It wouldn’t be no life for a nipper wiv no da wivout a swell ma like you” she said. “Couldn’t we make like you ‘as a posthumous child?”
    Jane looked startled.
    “I – I do not know if I could carry off the imposture” she said. “Besides, I cannot be certain that I do not have a posthumous child; Frank continued to enjoy marital relations with me.”
    Dolly shuddered.
    “That don’t sound too friendly” she said.
    “Frank disliked me having a child” Jane decided not to go into detail “And it meant that we were not…..friendly.”
    The jeering remarks about the changes childbearing had wrought upon her body – his child conceived in, at the time, love for him . His comments about udders because she wanted to feed Frances for herself……. His jealousy because she would leave him in the night to feed the baby. His insistence on marital rights before her body had recovered enough to make it anything but painful; and continued exertion of those rights on her regularly; her revenge to lie passive and unresponsive. Oh her revenge had been petty; but then Frank made her feel petty. She had always been the one who had to give; somehow to make him take was a bittersweet revenge.
     
    “I ain’t a gentleman to be drinking Mrs Churchill’s port” said Caleb to Fowler “But sit down a moment; I want to tell you somethink”.
    “It will only spoil if it isn’t drunk” said Fowler pouring Caleb a glass full. “Maybe just this once I’ll join you; it’s a shame to waste a fine port.”
    He poured himself a modest measure and recapped the decanter. Caleb nodded in approval. This was no man tippling when the master’s back was turned but a genuine appreciation of the wine and a desire not to see it go to waste. The liquor smelled rich and expensive; and Caleb told himself to be careful with a drink that was likely to be somewhat stronger than the heavy wets he was used to. The