Page 15 of The Secret Identity of the Lord's Aide
Richard appeared outside his study door at the hour of seven, announcing that Lady Elizabeth Byrd and her companion, Irene Follett had arrived. Immediately, Lord Linfield shot to his feet and strode down the staircase, his shoes scuffing against the marble. When he entered the sitting room, he found Irene and Elizabeth sitting on the edge of the chairs he and his mother ordinarily sat in, facing one another. Bess's hands were atop her knees, and her spine was straight up and down—perhaps showing a level of anxiety, although Nathaniel couldn’t be certain.
“Good evening, ladies,” Nathaniel said.
Bess and Irene turned towards him, both standing. Nathaniel’s eyes remained on Bess’s for a moment too long. He leaned down and kissed the top of her hand before kissing Irene’s, as well. Then, he gestured towards the dining room. “Why don’t we head in?”
Around them, smells of baking bread, of sizzling vegetables, of meats swirled. Irene slid in front of them, giving them both an eagle-eyed look. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” she said.
Despite himself, Nathaniel heard himself laugh. Then, there was the twinkling laughter of Bess, herself. He glanced at her, surprised that such a gorgeous laugh could escape the lips of such a brilliant woman. It seemed to contrast with her articulate intelligence. It was girlish and funny, and it brought a smile to his lips. He made a note to himself to never tell her this thought.
But of course, in what context would he ever tell her such a thing?
They sat at the table, watching in silence as the team of maids filled their plates and wine glasses. Irene’s eyes flashed as her plate grew taller. Bess seemed to be fixated on one of the paintings across the room from her, a painting that Nathaniel’s father had had made of him and his hunting dogs. Nathaniel pointed to it, deciding to break the silence.
“My father was an excellent hunter. Most people only know him for his politics, but he manned a large team of hunting dogs. He took me out with him frequently. It was where he decided to teach me about the good and evil of this world,” Nathaniel offered. He reached for his roll, tore it into two pieces, and slathered one with butter.
Bess remained fixated on the painting. He blinked at her, marvelling again at her beauty. But she caught him looking, turning her eyes back to his. Trapped, he coughed, and then dropped his roll back to his plate.
“So, Bess,” he began. “I received your letter.”
“I assumed so,” Bess said, sounding almost snarky. “I received yours in return.”
“Right. Absolutely,” Nathaniel offered. He cleared his throat, wondering if he’d find a chance to eat throughout this strained encounter. Beside them, Irene had begun to eat happily, smearing butter across her roll and diving towards it. “Well, you mentioned that you wanted to discuss the, um. The arrangement.”
Bess nodded. She gripped her hands over the top of the table and leaned closer, her eyes becoming like slits. “Lord Linfield, I would like to take you up on your offer of helping you with your speeches.”
Nathaniel’s heart had begun to beat wildly. “That’s excellent. As I told you, I simply can’t return to the life of nothingness, outside of Parliament …” he began.
But Bess lifted her finger, forcing him to pause. “Please, let me go on,” she told him.
“Absolutely,” he said. “Certainly.”
“I want to help you if you agree to my rules,” Bess continued. “I must tell you that they’re absolute. That I’m not here to negotiate.”
Lord Linfield had never heard a woman speak like this before. His smile faltered as he waited.
“All right. Number one,” Bess said. She lifted her fork and ticked it against the side of her plate, still without eating. “Number one is that my identity is to remain a secret throughout our affairs. That means that you’re never to reveal the identity of L.B., which I will continue to write under, nor of your speechwriter. Is that clear?”
“Actually, I assumed that already,” Lord Linfield said. “And I respect your decision. I know it must be difficult, being a woman in your status …”
“Number two,” Bess said, speaking over him. “And I want to be clear about this. It involves payment.”
Beside her, Irene nodded her head three times, her chin sharp. She was pushing Bess to continue. Nathaniel waited, unafraid of anything monetary. He had never had a single trouble with cash, and he could fulfill anything she demanded.
“This involves two years’ worth of wages for me for each season in Parliament during which I write for you,” Bess continued.
“Done,” Nathaniel said, smacking his palm atop the table.
Her eyes flickered, showing her clear surprise. Perhaps she’d imagined that he would protest such a steep request, but he was genuinely aghast—and oddly pleased—that she’d asked for so much.
Lady Elizabeth Byrd. Again, that name rang through his mind with an aura of familiarity. But the woman before him seemed not to be dressed as anyone with money. Why on earth was she a Lady? What had happened to her?
“If that’s agreeable to you, that brings me to my third point,” Bess continued. “And that’s this. Throughout your run to Parliament, and within Parliament itself, you must put your full and honest support behind the Judgement of Death Act.”
For a moment, Nathaniel thought he’d been smacked. He blinked at her, clearly shocked. His lips parted, holding upon them his hesitation, and then, his rage.
“You can’t possibly think I would agree to such a thing after what happened to my father,” he said, his voice raspy and low. “He was killed by highwaymen. I believe in harsh punishment. It must act as a deterrent for thieves. Show them what might happen to them if they do such an act …”
But Bess just shook her head, raising her eyebrows.
