Sophie's Halloo Read online

  Sophie looked up with budding delight, but her mother seemed to have grave doubts. She turned to Sir John for guidance.

  “I do not know, Sir Tony. Wouldn’t it seem rather particular? Sir John?”

  But before Sophie’s father could refuse the plan, Aunt Sadie came once again to the rescue. “Nonsense! It’s a capital idea! And it will not seem in the least particular, I assure you, Clarissa. Everyone permits it nowadays. You would not have her set down as a country miss. Besides, she cannot be ravished in an open phaeton, after all—at least not in the park. Pay attention to his ribbons, Sophie. He can show you a thing or two. Capital whip!”

  Lady Corby hastily gave her consent, hoping to cut off any more shocking statements from her sister-in-law, and Sophie ran upstairs to fetch her bonnet and pelisse and to submit to a quick hair brushing while Tony responded modestly to Sadie’s last remark.

  “You flatter me, Miss Sadie.”

  “Nonsense!” she said, raising her eyebrows in admonition. “You could be admitted to the Four-Horse Club at a moment’s notice, if you wished. Everyone says so. Why don’t you do it?”

  Tony smiled mysteriously and shook his head as Sophie joined them once again. “Above my touch I’m afraid,” he said, holding Sophie’s pelisse for her. And he politely refused to be drawn back into the conversation, though Sadie continued to remonstrate with him. Taking up his beaver, he promised to have Sophie back in due time, and they made their way out of the room.

  The door had scarcely closed behind them when Sir John let loose his indignation, “Frippery fellow, that! Poetry! I ask you, what does he mean by it?”

  “Oh, don’t let him fool you, John,” said Sadie. “That boy can do anything. He just chooses to play the fool at times, though I don’t know why. He’s a spanking whip, and they tell me he’s a competent pugilist, too. He just don’t choose to brag about it, I suppose.”

  “But he said himself he does not hunt!” complained Sir John. “Perhaps he cannot afford it. I don’t want him hanging out after Sophie if he does not have the blunt to support her.”

  “It’s not that,” said Sadie, shaking her head in perplexity. “He is said to have a good £10,000 a year or more.”

  “He could manage on that, though I suppose it might be a bit tight. There’s many a better does it on less,” he added stubbornly.

  “His father was quite a sporting gentleman,” remembered Sadie. “Addicted to the turf, as I remember. Nearly ruined his estate. Perhaps Tony don’t care to do the same.”

  But Sir John would not allow it. “That’s ridiculous! He needn’t support his own stables, and you know it. He could always hire a hack. That’s coming it a bit strong, Sadie. I don’t see why you need defend the fellow. He’s little better than a coxcomb! Did you see that cane?”

  Sadie knew her defense sounded weak to her sporting-enthusiast brother, but she stood her ground. “Perhaps there is no understanding it, John,” she sighed impatiently. “But you are wrong about Tony. Whatever his faults, I cannot help but like the man.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The object of their discussion was at this moment turning his team of high spirited horses in the direction of Hyde Park with a skillful flick of his whip. He managed to keep up a spanking pace and still catch a glimpse of his companion out the corner of one eye. Sophie was regarding the horses in front of her with fixed attention. Though it might not be thought particular in London for a single lady to ride out with a gentleman alone, she was thinking that it seemed very particular to her. She had never been alone with a strange gentleman before, if you could call sitting atop a high perch phaeton in the middle of a busy London street “being alone.”

  Tony’s lips twitched understandingly as he watched her in silence, noting the softness of lowered lashes against her cheeks. But presently he ventured a question. “Are you paying careful attention to the ribbons, as your aunt suggested. Miss Corby? I shall be glad to give you instruction as we go along.”

  Sophie blushed delightfully, but was glad for the excuse to talk. “Yes,” she said with little honesty. “I do not see how you manage to keep them so steady.”

  “There is no trick to it,” said Tony. “You must simply keep the reins to your leaders separate from those to your wheelers so that you may direct them separately—just so.” He showed her which fingers to lace the reins through so as to hold them properly. Of course, this obliged Sophie to look up at him and to observe his actions minutely. She began to enjoy herself.

  After watching him negotiate a narrow space between a milk cart and a bookseller’s stall, she remembered his final conversation with her Aunt Sadie and a suspicion that had then crossed her mind. So she asked, “Don’t you wish to be a member of the Four-Horse Club, Sir Tony?” Her own brothers had such strong aspirations to that honour that she was again mystified.

  Tony looked more apologetic than ever as he answered, but she thought she detected a twinkle in his eyes. “I see you have discovered my secret. Miss Corby. But if you will promise not to reveal it to any of the club’s members, I shall be happy to explain.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “You will think me a worthless fellow, I know,” he went on, “but the truth is that I do not want to be obliged to parade to Salt Hill on certain days of the month dressed in a curious habit. I should find the requirement rather tedious.”

  Sophie dimpled by way of reply, but did not tell him that he had delighted her again. Instead, folding her hands in her lap, she looked about her with a sigh of satisfaction, as Tony grinned appreciatively.

  Presently she asked, “Where are you taking me?”

  “To Rotten Row,” was the reply.

  She looked at him in astonishment. “I thought you said you were taking me to the park!”

  Tony, who had taken a moment to understand her surprise, chuckled pleasantly. “I am taking you to the park, Miss Corby. I suppose the name does sound rather suspicious if one is not used to hearing it, but I assure you that Rotten Row is a very respectable lane along Hyde Park. At this time of day there will be any number of the most fashionable people there on horse or in carriage—and some less so, I might add. I thought it might amuse you on your first day to see one of the fashionable strolls. You might even glimpse the Prince Regent.”

  “Oh,” said Sophie with visible relief. “I thought...” She did not finish.

  “That your Aunt Sadie might have been wrong, perhaps?” said Tony, before adding cryptically, “I shall await your permission for that.”

  By the time Sophie had digested this comment and thought to blush, they had arrived at the park and Tony had changed the subject. He began to point out persons of interest to her as he slowed the pace of his horses. She had to admire the ease with which he kept them under control while conversing, not seeming to have them much in mind.

  “Who are those young men over there?” Sophie asked. “The ones who all seem to be yawning. Could they be bored with Town life already?”

  Tony cocked an eye at them. “Those are what we call ‘peep-o-day boys,’“ he said. “They are out-and-out larkers. They spend their nights on the prowl for adventure, not going to bed until morning, so that this time of day they are just waking—or trying to, by the looks of them.”

  “What do they find to do all night?” asked Sophie. The notion was intriguing.

  “Oh, there are any number of strange, wild things to do in the streets at night,” he answered. “What was it the Scotch poet said? ‘Here are we met three merry boys,/ three merry boys I trow are we./ And mony a night we’ve merry been,/ and mony mae we hope to be.’“ Sophie smiled as he went on.

  “There is much to be said for it really, although I’m afraid that the greater number of those fellows spend the night getting progressively drunker, until there’s not much that they would recall. But after the theatre or the opera or a ball, there are curious things to be seen in the less fashionable quarters of the city. There are the coffee houses or sluiceries—for gin, you know
—where one meets up with all walks of life. You might see a beggar, whom you saw hobbling on crutches near Temple Bar that morning, dance a jig with the proprietress at night. There are places in St. Giles where all manner of such revelations take place.

  “But I suspect that those boys simply drink their fill of gin, some losing their purses to the pickpockets which are found in every public place, until they stagger out into the street and start a row. There, see that fellow just there? I suspect he is one of them.” He jerked his head over toward a group of people standing on the side of the lane.

  “Where?” asked Sophie. Then spying the man he had indicated she said, “That stiff gentleman standing on the corner? Is he a peep-o-day boy, too? He doesn’t look sleepy, and he seems too proper for what you were relating.”

  Tony laughed, but in the kind way he had. “No, not a peep-o-day boy. A pickpocket. And the reason he appears so stiff is because he is gammoning the draper.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Sophie suspiciously. She was not at all sure that he was not teasing her.

  “That is just a cant expression. It means that he is concealing the fact that he has no shirt. See the way his coat is buttoned up so tightly, straight up to his neckcloth? That is so you will not notice the absence of shirt and waistcoat beneath.”

  Sophie did not know whether to be impressed or suspicious. She still thought he might be teasing her. Looking over at the object of their discussion once again, she asked, “How do you know that? He appears quite normal to me.”

  Tony’s smile expressed such satisfaction with her that she had to believe him. “That is what he hopes you will think. Don’t you see? He would not be much good at his trade if his tricks were too obvious. He has to be able to fool the green ones, at least.” Sophie supposed he was including her in this category, but his next words removed all offense.

  “The reason I can detect him is because I’ve lost enough to persons of his brotherhood to make me more knowing. And I’ve met up with them again in such places where their masks were down.”

  As he said this, a new thought occurred to Sophie. “Are you a peep-o-day boy, Sir Tony?” she asked glancing up at him shyly.

  She thought she heard him smother a laugh, but he answered her seriously enough. “No, Miss Corby, I am not.”

  There was more Sophie would have asked him, but she was afraid he would laugh at her ignorance, so she looked about the park again in what she thought a worldly-wise fashion. As she did so, she noted that a middle-aged woman with three elegant young females in a handsome equipage was waving in their direction. Sophie turned quickly to Tony and said, “Pardon me, but that lady in the handsome carriage seems to know you. She is trying to capture your attention.”

  Tony leaned forward in his seat to see whom she was speaking of, but immediately returned to his position. “She must be mistaken,” he said with a suspicious twist to his lips. “I do not recall having met her.”

  “Are you certain?” Sophie persisted, looking once again at the ladies and smiling uncertainly. “She has not stopped waving. She has three young ladies with her. I suppose they are her daughters. Perhaps if we drove closer you might recognize her.”

  Tony cleared his throat and turned the phaeton in the opposite direction. “I do not think that would be wise, Miss Corby. Your father would surely object.”

  “But why?” asked Sophie.

  The horses had settled into a comfortable trot again, so Tony could face her more easily. There was an unmistakable grin on his face. “Let us just say that although I have not met them, I recognize them sufficiently to know that they would not be proper acquaintances for you—though you will come into contact with some who are no better. Those are not the lady’s daughters riding with her. They are more in the nature of employees.”

  “But they are dressed quite as elegantly as she,” protested Sophie stubbornly.

  Her persistence seemed to delight him, and he finally let loose with laughter. “Miss Corby,” he asked her, “has no one told you that you would be wiser not to pursue a topic when you’ve been offered polite evasions? It would truly not be proper of me to elucidate the matter fully, though if you insist, I shall. But you must not report me to your parents if I do, for I gave you ample and fair warning.”

  Sophie sat for a minute and reflected. Certainly her mother would wish for her to desist, but a glance at Tony’s face decided her. There was something rather alluring in the way he looked at her, as though he dared her to question him. She was reminded of that first night’s wink and her flight up the stairs.

  Folding her hands in her lap demurely, she tried to strike a reasoning attitude. “It seems to me, Sir Tony,” she said, “that you have taken it upon yourself to caution me and instruct me in the ways of the city. If there is something I ought to know to protect myself against improper associations, I can only take it as a kindness in you to inform me.” She looked at him as a schoolmistress might when expecting a pupil to recite a lesson.

  She must have caught him unprepared, however, for he was sufficiently distracted to allow the horses to stray near an on-coming vehicle and a few moments passed before he brought them back into line. By that time, he had managed to conceal his amusement and could answer her in approximately the same tone of scientific inquiry that she had employed.

  “Very well. The person who was beckoning to us from the carriage yonder is what is commonly called a procuress.” Tony kept his gaze on his horses as he spoke. “The young women with her are her ware. You will hear them referred to as Cyprians in fashionable society. Their ‘mother,’ she may be called, dresses them elegantly to lure their customers and in exchange receives the greater part of their earnings. Now, if I have not made things sufficiently clear at this point, Miss Corby, I will be unequal to the task of making it clearer. I would suggest that you ask your Aunt Sadie to explain the term ‘Cyprian’ to you at a future date.”

  Then pausing significantly, he added, “Not telling her, of course, who put you up to it.” He smiled at her now with a questioning tilt to his head.

  Somewhere during his discourse, Sophie had come to comprehend what he was saying, though she had to question whether she had listened properly. It was certainly shocking if she had! But she did not intend to make Sir Tony regret his honesty by appearing to be unsettled. Swallowing before answering, she merely said, “Thank you. That will not be necessary.”

  She thought she detected another twitch of his lips before he turned to face the horses. She was uncomfortably silent for a while, but presently a thought popped into her head, which refused to be silenced.

  “It was still uncommonly odd the way they appeared to know you, Sir Tony.”

  Her companion coughed so suddenly and so violently that his horses took great exception and began to plunge and rear. It took Tony several minutes to calm them sufficiently and when he did, it was with no reference at all to her comment.

  “Pardon me, Miss Corby. A mere catch in the throat.” He resumed speaking about the people they were passing, and Sophie allowed him to change the subject, though she dimpled wickedly.

  As they had been out for some time now, Tony suggested returning to her parents’ house, and although Sophie had no wish to end the excursion, she had to agree. Perhaps she had received enough information to digest for one day, but her curiosity on one point begged an answer.

  “Sir Tony,” she began in a perplexed tone as he turned the horses back toward Town, “If you are not a peep-o-day boy and you do not hunt, what do you do?”

  Tony seemed taken aback. He appeared to be at a loss for words, but he chuckled and, after considering, responded, “Why, everything else, I suppose.”

  “And what, pray, is everything else?” demanded Sophie.

  He laughed again. “Oh, just anything you can imagine. I see no reason to confine myself to one pursuit or another. There is no end to the things that interest me. I’ve told you that I write poetry, though I’m no good at it. But I do attend salons where
people of talent come together to enlighten one another. I shall take you to one one day. And even though I do not hunt, I still admire a good horse and enjoy going to Tattersall’s occasionally. I go to the theatre, the opera, and—yes, even the coffee and gin houses on occasion. And the boxing matches and so on. I guess you could say that I am an observer rather than a player, such as your father. I had rather hear about what he does than spend my entire life devoted to it. It amuses me to listen to his stories.”

  Sophie was not certain how to take his last comment. He seemed so much more a part of the fashionable world than anyone else she knew, and remembering her father’s opinions about the artificiality of the social elite, she began to worry.

  “Does that mean that you dine out on anecdotes about my father and my aunt and people like that?”

  Tony glanced at her, and the smile left his face. Then, he carefully pulled his horses over to the side of the street and brought them to rest. Turning to face her, he spoke very gently.

  “You must not think that I amuse myself at the expense of people like your father, Miss Corby. I would never be so unkind as to make him the object of my humour. In fact, I admire him in a way. It takes courage to run the risk of breaking your neck every day—certainly more than I have.” He smiled at her again, and Sophie was ashamed for having said what she did. Hadn’t she already observed that there was no meanness in him? She flushed uncomfortably and lowered her eyes as he continued.

  “Now, having said that, and being a truthful fellow, I will add—just between you and me—that I find Sir John and your Aunt Sadie terribly amusing.”

  Sophie looked up again quickly and seeing the fun in his eyes, she dimpled. Then she thought of her father and Aunt Sadie as if seeing them for the first time with all their odd expressions and attitudes, and she began to giggle. “I suppose they are,” she said. “It is just that when one has grown up surrounded by only sporting enthusiasts, it is hard to see the humour in them. But now that I know not everyone is like that, I can see how funny they must seem to you.”