Page 14 of Letters to a Wallflower
“Lost enough already this evening,” Ward sighed. He toasted Ben. “You’ve been scarce lately.”
“I’ve been reacquainting myself with London again. Enjoying a bit of freedom. Taking care of some old business. Catching up on politics and the London news.” He took a pull of his own ale. “Speaking of which, I heard some gossip about Akers.”
“That’s certainly nothing new. He’s still up to his old shenanigans.” He shrugged. “Drinking too much, spending too much. Not so different from the rest of us.” He paused. “Though he does still like to poke at Major Crawford.”
“So his trustees did not yield and give him earlier access to his inheritance?”
“No, and his resentment just seems to build,” Ward said.
“I wonder how he affords all of his shenanigans, then? Beyond the carousing, I heard Akers has a mistress. A fancy piece, here in Town.”
“Not so fancy,” Ward corrected. “I heard she’s a country mouse. Certainly she’s not part of the demi-monde in London or I would have seen her. But word is, he keeps her quietly in Camden Town.”
“How long has he had her in his keeping?”
“A couple of years, at the least,” Ward said with a shrug.
“That’s interesting. And it might just prove my hunch. I was wondering if she’s the Crawford’s maid. The one that got dismissed, after Helen’s troubles? The timing of it seems right. And I know Akers had an interest in her.” He told Ward what he’d seen in the Crawford home.
“Well, I didn’t know it, by God. Nor does Will Crawford, I would wager. He’ll be hot as hellfire if he hears of it.”
“Why? I thought the girl was dismissed for messing about with Akers?”
“She was sent off when Will’s mum caught her with him. The sainted heir was not to accost the servants, or worse, to proclaim feelings for a lowly maidservant. Will was quite broken up about it. I think he actually did care for her more than was seemly.”
“What a mess.”
Ward shook his head. “It will be just one more reason for Will to hate Akers, should he hear of it.”
“There’s never been a shortage of reasons for them to argue,” Ben remarked. “But he won’t hear it from me.” He paused. “Still, Akers has apartments in Town and a house for this girl in Camden. He certainly seems to dress in the first stare of fashion and you say he’s still waiting for his inheritance? How does he afford it all, I wonder?”
“Gaming,” Ward stated. “The man is famous for his luck. He wins far more than he loses. And beyond the money he makes, he does seem to acquire the oddest things with his winnings. Won a monkey once. Took it about with him for a while, until it bit a girl in his lap and he gave it to a black leg bookie to cover a racing debt.”
Ben couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh.
“Oh, I could go on,” Ward said, warming to his subject. “You know old Lord Mayweather is one of his trustees? Akers took the man’s youngest son on in a game of écarté. The young scrapper, newly married, put a voucher for his wife’s wedding jewels on the table as collateral. Akers won it. When the young pup turned over the pearls, Akers made a show of giving them back to her. At Almack’s. In full view of the ton. The patronesses haven’t let him back in since.”
“Good heavens.”
“See George over there?” Ward nodded toward a young man playing cards at the table he’d left. “Lost his favorite ruby stickpin to Akers last week. George has been waiting for him to pawn the thing so he can get it back, but Akers has taken to wearing it every night, just to irritate him.”
Ben sighed. “Akers always was the master of a petty jab.” He ordered another round.
Ward took up his first drink and drained it. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about the Prattler, too. You are right. We all allowed this slightly sordid paper to shape our opinions of Helen Crawford and I think we gave them a sort of influence that we should not have. They’ve become more and more brazen in their reporting on Society’s peccadillos. And they seem to have sources that are right inside the world of the ton. This latest bit about Lady Littleton? They must have spoken to her lady’s maid, they had so much detail. But the tide is turning on them. People are grumbling. They may well find their popularity on the wane. And I’ve wondered if that fact has actually helped Helen as she ventures back into the beau monde.”
“An interesting theory.” Ben stayed a while longer, enjoying Ward’s company, before heading home for an early night. Early the next morning, he was in his rig, tooling his bays north to Camden Town.
He left the horses at a livery, then went to have breakfast. A few discreet inquiries turned up no information about Maggie Wilson, but a second thought had him returning to the livery. There, he asked about Akers.
“Oh, aye. Him,” a groom said, and spat to the side.
Ben laughed. “That matches my own feelings for the man, I’d say. But I heard he keeps a woman in this area.” He paused. “Nothing in my experience of the man tells me he’d treat her well.”
“I seen her,” one of the livery men spoke up. “She keeps to herself, but she seems well enough. Brompton Road is tidy, in any case.” He shrugged. “But it does seem as if she could do better.”
Ben pushed away from the stall he’d been leaning against. “Thank you.” He tossed the man a coin and set out. He passed through the market and purchased a pastry and directions from a sweet seller. It wasn’t far. He strolled down the street, examining the brick fronts and iron railings. Near the end, he found a house that had been obviously divided into two households. Here the blooms in the window boxes looked a little straggly and neglected. He shrugged a shoulder and went to knock on the first door.
A young girl in a too-large cap told him Maggie Wilson lived next door.
