Fenster pushed the door open partially. “Mrs Younge to see you, my Lord,” he announced. His body was between the woman and the study, so she had no opportunity to see within.
“She is expected; please show her in,” Holder instructed.
As she was rather awed by the surroundings, forgetting that according to her letter she had been in the houses of a prince and a duke, Miss Younge only saw the man seated behind the large mahogany desk at first. The door clicked shut behind her. It was only then she noticed many men sitting and all looking at her as if she were an insect to be scraped off their shoes. Sensing danger, Miss Younge whirled around to attempt to escape the room and ran into the chest of the biggest footman she had ever seen.
Now she had to make the best of the situation and try and bluff her way out of the study and then the house. “Please pardon me, my Lord. I was scared at seeing so many men I have never met in the room when I only expected to meet with you and possibly your wife. As I am not feeling well enough after my fright, may I leave and come back another day?” Karen Younge asked hopefully.
“You have never met these men before? But Mrs Younge, how would you not recognise your former employers?” Holder enquired.
George had promised her they would not check the characters! What was she to do now? Karen Younge did the only thing she could think of; she feigned fainting. She fell to the carpet and prayed she would be left alone. She did not realise the wig had come off when she crumpled to the floor.
Holder nodded to Johns, who lifted the woman as if she were nothing.
Feeling that she was lifted clear of the floor, Karen Younge’s eyes flew open to the impassive stares from the men in the study.
“I have some questions for you. Unless I am sure you have answered truthfully, you will be taken to the Tower to be executed for treason. I suppose you are not aware that Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Bedford, are related to King George III which would make using their names treason. Do you understand?” Holder demanded.
Miss Younge nodded.
“As you were wearing a wig, you were trying to convince us you were older than you are. Is your name even Mrs Younge, and how old are you?” Holder began.
“Miss Karen Younge, twenty-two years old,” she responded, her head down.
“Why did you attempt to gain a place as a companion for my daughters?” Holder queried. She did not reply. “It will be your head which will be lost if you do not answer each question honestly.”
“George Wickham planned this all,” Karen Younge admitted.
“I was correct. I should have taken wagers,” Matlock quipped. “Why did he put you up to this? Sorry, Holder, you are asking the questions.”
“No need to apologise, Matlock. Answer the question Lord Matlock asked.”
“He claimed…” Karen Younge repeated George’s oft-told tale of woe. She was not sure what to expect, but derisive laughter from all but three of the men was not it.
They did not owe her an explanation, but the men who knew Wickham told her the truth of the fork-tongued viper she had believed.
“Where is he now? At your house on Edward Street?” Holder questioned.
“In the area, he alighted at Park Street. I know not where he was going from there.” Listening to the men relate the truth about George, Karen Younge realised she had been played for a fool, and even had they succeeded in extracting funds from the earl, she would have never seen a penny.
“Johns, have the men search around the house and detain anyone who does not belong here,” Holder commanded.
With a quick bow, the big man left the study.
“Prince Esterhazy, Lords Bedford and Jersey, your names were the ones used in that forged work of fiction. Do you think she was truthful and has evaded the executioner’s axe?” Holder queried.
“Transportation with seven years of hard labour will suffice for me,” Bedford replied.
The other two men agreed.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Wickham was relaxed until he saw footmen pour out of the house and begin searching all around it for something or someone.
‘Damn!’ he thought. ‘That chit has shopped on[8]me! I need to get as far away from here as possible. Damn, damn, damn! It was such a good plan. She must have made a mistake!’ Wickham stood and ambled away as nonchalantly as he was able to. He walked towards Rotten Row and then turned towards the Serpentine.
Thank goodness he had the foresight to relieve Karen of her funds in the strongbox. It was only about fifty pounds, but it would help him escape. Now he did not need to spin a yarn about a footpad breaking into the house.
Chapter 25
