Beau swore he was looking at some apparition as he glanced out of the window of White's Gentleman's Club. "Could it be?"
Curious, Lord Alvanley took a peek. "Is that McAlister? He's been gone for nearly a year. And who is that he is bringing with him?"
"We shall soon see. He comes this way," Brummell replied.
Benjamin knew better than to appear cheerful, even though his heart was currently overflowing with joy, but to the men here at White's Benjamin's defining characteristic was being a curmudgeon. He took a deep breath and entered.
Clara watched in utter fascination how Benjamin's entire countenance changed the moment he stepped through that door. With that one breath, he became Mr. McAlister, spy to the crown, the Queen's man, and devoted guard of the King.
She too took a breath as she stepped through the threshold into White's. It was quite a different experience from the last time she snuck into this gentleman's club, for she had quite a distinctive reason for being here. She must convince Benjamin's friends she is not who she really is, fool them, and an entire world of adventure awaits.
"Wait?" In a panic, Clara grabs hold of Benjamin's arm. "Who am to say that I am?"
It was hard for Benjamin to keep the grin from his lips, knowing she should have thought to settle this far sooner than now, but quickly put her at ease when he said, "You are to say nothing, I will make introductions."
Clara nodded but wondered. She grabbed his arm again, and he sighed in frustration. "When you say, say nothing, do you mean you wish me not to speak to anyone, because it would seem rather unlikely, you'd be traveling with a mute."
Again, Benjamin was about to speak, but this time Mr. Beau Brummell interrupted him.
"Mr. McAlister. He returns to us. How was the trip to India?"
Once again, Clara watched Benjamin slip the mask into place before he turned to greet his friend, "Uneventful, I'm afraid."
"And this is?" Lord Alvanley demanded to know. "A new pledge perhaps?"
"A visiting cousin. Lord Alvanley, Mr. Brummell, I would like to introduce Mr. Benjamin Claremont, my guest for this evening."
Clara nearly curtseyed but corrected her near mistake before anyone would notice and bowed to the gentlemen. Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest. So, she is to become Claremont once more. The persona was such a part of her, donning it seemed like welcoming back an old friend.
"When did you return? You've been in town long enough to gain a cousin. It's cruel that you did not send word," Mr. Brummell complained.
Clara noted several things happening at once. Both men obviously, thought little of her as far as someone to converse with as she was of neither rank nor title. However, this meant she could remain invisible this evening if she played her cards right.
Second Mr. Brummell was a good friend and obviously hurt by Benjamin's neglect of him, something she hoped her husband mends before the evening is through.
And third, Lord Alvanley did not look pleased by Benjamin's return. She took him for the jealous sort. Having Brummell to himself must have brought him great pleasure.
"I've only just arrived. My cousin was already staying at my flat in London. Not being here, I missed the correspondence that he was coming. Come now, Beau. You know my priority upon arrival would be to meet with you, old friend?"
"Well, shall we discuss events over dinner?" Mr. Brummell asked, before turning to Lord Alvanley.
"Lord Alvanley, would you be so kind as to give young Claremont here the tour of White's, while I inform Mr. McAllister what he has missed while he has been away?"
"I can't see why we can't all..." Lord Alvanley began his protest, but Mr. Brummell promptly reminded him they only allow members to dine in and Mr. Claremont was not even a pledge.
"Yes, of course," Lord Alvanley conceded. "As you wish."
"Thank you, friend," Brummell said.
Clara bit her bottom lip. Benjamin didn't even spare her a glance, knowing what they expected of him. If only she knew what he expected of her.
Lord Alvanley sighed as he watched both men walk away. "Come, Mr. Claremont. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get back to enjoying myself."
Clara nodded and followed Lord Alvanley as he showed him around the place. Currently, they stood in the main hall and passed the Morning Room from which Lord Alvanley and Mr. Brummell emerged from earlier.
Clara followed him through another hall and through another doorway and Lord Alvanley pointed out where the water closet was, which reminded Clara not to drink much as a trip to that room was out of the question.
"Do you play billiards, Mr. Claremont?"
Clara looked at Lord Alvanley, surprised he actually addressed a question to her directly.
"I'll take that look for a no," Lord Alvanley said with a sigh of boredom. "Come on, then. Upstairs we go."
They went up a winding staircase to another hall. Lord Alvanley looked longingly at the doors to the Back Dining Hall.
"Behind us is the Card Room, but I doubt your cousin would be too pleased if I let you lose your shirt while he could not chaperone so I will deposit you here in the Coffee Room. There is little damage you can do here."
Lord Alvanley made some quick introductions, but again no one was interested in speaking to her. But there seemed to be several who perked up at the news of Benjamin's return. Some Clara noticed appeared pleased where others turned guarded.
Interesting, Clara thought, perhaps this evening needn't be a complete loss after all.
"You've made enough acquaintances that your presence should be accepted, without question. I will be in the Card Room should you require additional assistance," Lord Alvanley informed Clara.
"Thank you, my lord," Clara said in a lower pitch she had well-practiced from her days aboard Redgrave's ship after their discovery that she spoke.
"Ah, he speaks. For a moment there, I thought you simple," Lord Alvanley with a lisp that Clara supposed was to add humor to his utterance. He promptly turned on his heel and left her.
Clara looked around the Coffee Room and tried her best not to smile. This was by far the largest room in the building, filled with men of every rank and title. If she could not glean something from tonight's adventure to tell Benjamin, she did not deserve to be by his side.
Time to get to work, Clara thought as she silently walked about the room.
-----------
Benjamin was not at all pleased by this turn of events. He did not expect to separate from Clara. Damn him for not thinking of the possibility. He was getting sloppy. Too much time away from reality. Should they discover Clara is a woman...
Benjamin calmed his thoughts when he considered that Clara had spent several months in proximity with hundreds of men and no one was the wiser. Only those closest to her did she divulge her secret. Have faith, Benjamin, he silently told himself.
Brummell looked at him with concern. "Clara?" he asked, getting to the core of what he wished to know.
"There is much to tell on that point, but I would prefer to discuss it some other place," Benjamin quickly amended.
"Of course. I'm sorry, Benjamin. I know how much she meant to you."
Benjamin only nodded and regretted leaving his closest friend in suspense, but now was not the time. "What news of London?"
"Food first, if you please," Brummell requested.
And Benjamin agreed, for the sooner they ate, the sooner he could return to Clara.
As the feast of wild game and other delicacies were brought before them, Benjamin could see something troubled Beau.
"Where to begin? Much has occurred. Most noteworthy, the assassination of Perceval."
Benjamin tried to school his reaction. "The Prime Minister? Dead?"
"Shot in the lobby of the House of Commons."
"Did they catch the fellow?"
"Yes, a bankrupt merchant from Liverpool, I believe. His name, John Bellingham. He wasn't hard to catch. I dare say with pandemonium his actions caused, he could have entered the streets and disappeared for good. Instead, he just sat and waited. He was so unremorseful and calm some speculated insanity. Although they found him fit enough for trial and it seemed performed with some haste."
Benjamin ran his hand over the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension. He knew well that Perceval's economic policies to prosecute the Napoleonic Wars caused dire poverty and unrest in many parts of the country. It wouldn't take much to coerce someone like Bellingham into taking action on behalf of the consortium of Liverpool traders. If only he were here...
"Who is the new Prime Minister, then?"
"Jenkinson."
"Another Tory?"
Brummell nodded before taking a sip of wine. "Lord Liverpool is smart enough to distance himself and the party from Perceval's ministry. They even repealed the Orders in Council, but unfortunately, it was too late to avoid war with the States."
Benjamin felt ill, he couldn't eat another bite, he pushed his plate away. "How many wars can one country endure?"
Brummell smiled, happy to give some good news to his friend. "We have resolved two of them."
"Which two?"
"Russia and Sweden. They signed a treaty this July, putting an end to them both."
"How does Wellington fair in the Peninsula?"
"Our ol' boy is doing a smashing job. He besieged Badajoz, forcing the surrender of the French garrison there and defeated troops near Salamanca."
"Where is he now?" Benjamin's head was spinning.
"The last report says Madrid."
"Prinny?" Benjamin inquired but couldn't help cringing.
"Getting fatter every day," Brummell said with a frown.
So at least nothing had changed with the Crown. "How does Lord Byron fair?"
"He was pouty after his maiden speech landed on deaf ears, but frankly the Luddites have brought it on themselves. They attacked a wool processing plant in Yorkshire, forcing the Act to pass for capital punishment for the breaking of machines. Still, they attacked another mill in Lancashire."
"How many dead?"
"Four hung. They shipped several others to the penal colonies in Australia. Bryon recovered, however, when his first two cantos sold out just five days after publication. Now he considers himself famous."
"Good for him," Benjamin said, genuinely pleased for his friend's success. Perhaps he could talk to Byron about Clara's writings. Clara? He needed to be getting back to her. He was about to say as much when Lord Alvanley arrived at their table, quite out of breath.
In between pants, Benjamin caught the words, brawl, coffee room, and Claremont.