‘How you do rant on! Anyone would think I forced her to marry me at gunpoint. She knew what I was, and yet she married me anyway. She deserved what she got.’

‘If you were not my brother, I would call you out,’ I said, shaking with rage.

‘If you were not my brother, I would throw you out,’ he returned.

‘You are welcome to try.’

He reached out his hand to the bell.

‘Ah, I see,’ I said scathingly. ‘You mean you would have someone else throw me out.’

‘Of course. That is why I have servants. To do the things I cannot, or will not, do myself.’

I mastered my emotion, for it was doing nothing but hurting me and amusing him.

‘Then tell me this, and I will go,’ I said. ‘Where is she now?’

He shrugged.

‘I have no idea.’

‘But you must have. You must write to her from time to time — ’ He laughed in derision. ‘At the very least you must have an address to which you send her allowance.’

‘I did, to begin with, but no longer. She made her allowance over to someone else several months ago.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She sold it, or gave it away.’

I was horrified.

‘And you allowed this?’ I demanded.

‘It was her money. She had a perfect right to give it to anyone she pleased,’ he said calmly.

‘But why should she do such a thing? She must have been coerced.’

‘If she was coerced, it was by necessity. She was always extravagant. I have no doubt that she lived above her income and then, when her debtors pressed her, she had to have money quickly and so she sold her allowance.’

‘She will not have received a tenth of its value, and without an allowance, how is she to live?’ I asked.

‘I have no idea,’ he said carelessly, getting up to pour himself another drink.

‘And you do not care,’ I said. ‘Have you no compassion in you at all? She was your wife, Harry. Your wife!’

‘And she betrayed me,’ he said, with the first hint of emotion I had heard in his voice. He had no sympathy for her, but he had plenty for himself.

‘Because of your cruelty,’ I said.

‘Cruelty! I gave her everything,’ he snapped.

‘Everything? You gave her love, friendship, affection?’

He laughed at me.

‘I gave her something better than that. I gave her a town house and plenty of clothes.’

‘Eliza could not live without love,’ I said.

‘Love? Is that what you call it?’ he asked derisively. ‘Her seducers gave it another name.’

I could bear it no longer.

‘You have no idea where she is?’ I asked him.

‘None at all.’

‘Then give me the last address you have for her, and I will conduct my own enquiries.’

‘I cannot remember it.’

I was not going to leave without finding what I had come for, and so, angry and impatient, I picked him up by his coat and said, ‘Then you had better think harder.’

He knew it right enough, and, seeing I was serious, he gave it to me, and then I took my leave of him. I stayed only long enough to speak to the servants and call on the tenants who remembered me, and then I set out for town.



Monday 16 December

The rain continues. London is awash with it. The pavements are dirty and the roads are muddy. I was almost knocked down by a brewer’s cart as I went out this morning, and I only narrowly avoided a rearing horse. I returned to my club where, to my surprise and great joy, I saw Leyton, sitting by the window and looking the same as he had done last time I saw him, apart from a new moustache.

‘Whatever induced you to grow the thing?’ I asked him with a smile as, having clapped each other on the back and asked after each other’s health, we sat down together, prepared to while away the morning by reacquainting ourselves.

‘It is the fashion,’ he said.

‘Nonsense! I have not seen a single man with a moustache since I set foot in England.’

He looked sheepish, and said, ‘If you must know, Brandon, I am married.’

‘Ah! I see. And your new wife likes moustaches?’ I said.

‘It is for her I grew it. I find it a confounded nuisance, to be honest. It itches. But she likes it, and so it stays.’

I was happy for him, and I said so. He smiled and said that he had been fortunate, more fortunate than he deserved.

As we talked, I could not help thinking that, if life had been kinder, Leyton and I would be two lawyers together, plump and prosperous, and both married to women we loved. Instead of which, I was a soldier, hard and lean, and looked older than my years, whilst he looked younger. His face was soft, and there was still a look of innocence in his eye. The world had dealt kindly with him, and it showed.

‘You must come to dinner,’ he said, when we had talked ourselves to a standstill. ‘Caroline is eager to meet you, and I believe we may gather together sufficient friends to make your evening enjoyable.’

‘It will be enjoyable even without additional company,’ I said. ‘It is good to see you again.’

Our talk then moved on to my family and Eliza. Leyton hesitated as he asked after her at first, but his ready sympathy was engaged when he heard of her fate, and he was able to recommend a man who could help me to find her if I should not be able to find her myself.

‘I have used him before in one or two cases where information was essential. He is good at finding people,’ he said.

I thanked him and we parted, he to return to Caroline and I to begin my search for Eliza. I went to the address my brother had given me, that of Eliza’s first seducer, Sir William Rentram, but he was out. I declined to state my business, but said that I would call again on Tuesday.



Tuesday 17 December

I went to Sir William Rentram’s today and found him at home. He was in his dressing gown when I arrived, though it was close on midday, and he had a sore head, but he agreed to speak to me. He could tell me nothing of her, however, for he had not seen her since they parted. He claimed that he had treated her well and that she had been happy with him for as long as their liaison had lasted. Whether it was true or not I had no way of telling, nor did I care. I only cared about finding her, and to that end I asked him what had become of her when they parted.

‘She left me for another man when my interest began to fade,’ he said.

‘And his name?’ I asked.

He shook his head.

‘I have no idea. A foreigner, I think. A Frenchman. You know what Frenchmen are like. They have a way with women. He set out to win her, and as far as I know, he succeeded.’

‘But you do not know his name?’

He thought, but then shook his head again.

‘No, I cannot recall.’ He looked at me speculatively and said, ‘What business is it of yours, if you do not object to my asking?’

‘I am ... a family friend,’ I said. ‘I am concerned about her. I want to make sure that she is well, and to assist her if she stands in need of it.’

He looked at me thoughtfully for some minutes and then said, ‘I think his name was Claude, Claude Rotterdam or some such thing. Not Rotterdam, but something like it. He used to live in Berkeley Square, in a rented house, I believe.’

I thanked him for the information and made enquiries at every house in Berkeley Square, but only one was for hire, and that had had an English tenant for over a year. I asked after the Frenchman in a number of clubs but I could find no one who could give me any information about such a man and I returned to my club in low spirits.



Saturday 21 December

It was a relief to dine with Leyton tonight and forget my troubles for a while. He had assembled a small party, but they were all interesting people: Mr and Mrs Carlton, an entertaining couple who were known to Leyton through his business; Sir John Middleton, who had just come into property in Devonshire, a few miles north of Exeter; the Doncasters, who were cousins of Leyton, with their two daughters; and the Prossers, with their daughters.

Leyton’s wife was a pretty, lively woman, and the two of them seemed very happy together. The mood was cheerful and the conversation good-natured, ranging from family affairs — Sir John’s cousin had married a widower and had had two daughters; the Prossers’ oldest son had just had his first child and Mrs Carlton’s sister was engaged — to the state of the East India Company.

After dinner, Miss Doncaster played the harp and her sister sang. It was a convivial evening.

At the end of it, Leyton’s wife gave me several hints as to the desirability of the Misses Prosser, but Leyton turned the conversation aside, for he knows I can think of no one but Eliza.

1783

Wednesday 8 January

After several promising leads, my enquiries have led nowhere, and I am still no closer to finding Eliza. I thought that when I found the new owner of her allowance, I would find some useful information, but the allowance had already changed hands several times since she parted with it, and he had no knowledge of her.

I decided, this morning, to call upon Sanders, the man Leyton recommended to me, as I could not think of anything else to do. He seemed a reliable man with a good deal of experience in finding people, and we agreed on a fee. Now it remains to be seen if he earns it.

Friday 14 February

Alas, there has been no progress. Sanders has done all he can, and so we have parted by mutual consent.



Thursday 20 February