(Dangerous Damsels Book 1) The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels

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Copyright?2021byIndiaHolton
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LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Names:Holton,India,author.
Title:TheWisteriaSocietyofLadyScoundrels/IndiaHolton.
Description:Firstedition.|NewYork:Jove,2021.
Identifiers:LCCN2020043100(print)|LCCN2020043101(ebook)|ISBN9780593200162(tradepaperback)|ISBN9780593200179(ebook)
Subjects:LCSH:Femaleoffenders—Fiction.|Thieves—Fiction.|GreatBritain—History—Victoria,1837–1901—Fiction.|GSAFD:Historicalfiction.|LCGFT:Romancefiction.
Classification:LCCPR9639.4.H66W572021(print)|LCCPR9639.4.H66(ebook)|DDC823/.914—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020043100
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020043101
FirstEdition:June2021
CoverdesignbyKatieAnderson
CoverartbyDawnCooper
BookdesignbyLauraK.Corless,adaptedforebookbyKellyBrennan
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
pid_prh_5.7.0_c0_r0ForAmaya
andJulie
IloveyoutotheedgeoftheuniverseandbackCONTENTS
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
TableofSignificantCharacters
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthorTABLEOFSIGNIFICANTCHARACTERS-InOrderofAppearance–
CeciliaBassingthwaite…apluckyyounglady
MissDarlington…Cecilia’sgreat-aunt
Cilla…adolorousmemory
Pleasance…ahousemaidandseveralghosts
EduardodeLuca…anItalianassassin
NedLightbourne…acharmingpirateinleaguewiththeenemy
IsabellaArmitage…aladynemesis
AlexanderO’Riley…adangerousIrishpirate(andconcernedchum)
PatrickMorvath…avillainouspoet;theaforementionedenemy
ConstantinoplaBrown…agirljusthomefromboardingschool
Assortedscoundrels
JaneFairweather…aspinster
TomEames…amisledyouth
Variousruffians
TeddyLuxe…afencingmasterwithprovocativehips
CaptainSmith…anagentwithHerMajesty’ssecretpolicebrigade
Unnamedbrigands
LadyVictoriaandLordAlbert…pseudonymoushotelguests
Cecilia’swits…acostumedcompany
Jacobsen…adeterminedpursuer
QueenVictoria…England’smonarch
PrinceAlbert…deceased
FrederickBassingthwaite…anearnestfellow;Cecilia’scousin
DuarteLeveportofValando…aPortuguesebaron
TheghostofEmilyBront?…alleged
CharlesDarwin…arival
MajorCandent…anofficerinHerMajesty’sservice
Miscellaneousprinces
Dr.Lumes…aproficientdancer1anunexpectedcaller—theplightoftheauk—semantics—semantics—thelevelmoon—notthelevelmoon—thecallerreturns—adiscussionofcholera—anexplosion—luncheonisserved
Therewasnopossibilityofwalkingtothelibrarythatday.Morningrainhadblanchedtheair,andMissDarlingtonfearedthatifCeciliaventuredoutshewoulddevelopacoughandbedeadwithintheweek.ThereforeCeciliawasathome,sittingwithherauntinaroomtendegreescolderthanthestreetsofLondon,andreadingaloudTheSongofHiawathaby“thatAmericanrogue,Mr.Longfellow,”whenthestrangegentlemanknockedattheirdoor.
Asthesoundbargedthroughthehouse,interruptingCecilia’srecitationmid-rhyme,shelookedinquiringlyatheraunt.ButMissDarlington’sowngazewenttothemantelclock,whichwastickingsedatelytowardaquartertoone.Theoldladyfrowned.
“Itisanabominationthewaypeoplethesedaysknockatanywild,unseemlyhour,”shesaidinmuchthesametonetheprimeministerhadusedinParliamentrecentlytodecrytheLondonrioters.“Idodeclare—!”
Ceciliawaited,butMissDarlington’sonlydeclarationcameintheformofsippingherteapointedly,bywhichCeciliaunderstoodthattheabominablecallerwastobeignored.ShereturnedtoHiawathaandhadjustbegunproceeding“towardthelandofthePearl-Feather”whentheknockingcameagainwithincreasedforce,silencingherandcausingMissDarlingtontosetherteacupintoitssaucerwithaclink.Teasplashed,andCeciliahastilylaiddownthepoetrybookbeforethingsreallygotoutofhand.
“Ishallseewhoitis,”shesaid,smoothingherdressassheroseandtouchingthered-goldhairathertemples,althoughtherewasnocreaseinthemuslinnorasinglestrandoutofplaceinhercoiffure.
“Dobecareful,dear,”MissDarlingtonadmonished.“Anyoneattemptingtovisitatthistimeofdayisobviouslysomekindofhooligan.”
“Fearnot,Aunty.”Ceciliatookupabone-handledletteropenerfromthesmalltablebesideherchair.“Theywillnottroubleme.”
MissDarlingtonharrumphed.“Wearebuyingnosubscriptionstoday,”shecalledoutasCecilialefttheroom.
Infacttheyhadneverboughtsubscriptions,sothiswasanunnecessaryinjunction,althoughtypicalofMissDarlington,whopersistedinseeingherwardastherecklesstomboywhohadenteredhercaretenyearsbefore:pronetoclimbingtrees,fashioningcloaksfromtablecloths,andmakingunauthorizeddoorsteppurchaseswheneverthefancytookher.Butadecade’spropereducationhadwroughtwonders,andnowCeciliawalkedthehallquitecalmly,herFrenchheelstappingagainstthepolishedmarblefloor,herintentionsaimedinnowaytowardthetakingofasubscription.Sheopenedthedoor.
“Yes?”sheasked.
“Goodafternoon,”saidthemanonthestep.“MayIinterestyouinabrochureontheplightoftheendangeredNorthAtlanticauk?”
Ceciliablinkedfromhispleasantsmiletothebrochurehewasholdingoutinablack-glovedhand.Shenoticedatoncethescandalouslackofhatuponhisblondhairandtheembroiderytrimminghisblackfrockcoat.Heworeneithersideburnsnormustache,hisbootsweretallandbuckled,andasilverhoophungfromoneear.Shelookedagainathissmile,whichquirkedinresponse.
“No,”shesaid,andclosedthedoor.
Andboltedit.
Nedremainedforamomentlongerwiththebrochureextendedashisbrainwaitedforhisbodytocatchupwithevents.Heconsideredwhathehadseenofthewomanwhohadstoodsobrieflyintheshadowsofthedoorway,buthecouldnotrecalltheexactcolorofthesashthatwaistedhersoftwhitedress,norwhetherithadbeenpearlsorstarsinherhair,norevenhowdeeplywinterdreamedinherlovelyeyes.Heheldonlyageneralimpressionof“beautysorareandfacesofair”—andimplacabilitysoterrifyinginsuchayoungwoman.
Andthenhisbodymadepace,andhegrinned.
MissDarlingtonwaspouringherselfanothercupofteawhenCeciliareturnedtotheparlor.“Whowasit?”sheaskedwithoutlookingup.
“Apirate,Ibelieve,”Ceciliasaidasshesatand,takingthelittlebookofpoetry,beganslidingafingerdownapagetorelocatethelineatwhichshe’dbeeninterrupted.
MissDarlingtonsettheteapotdown.Withadelicatepairoftongsfashionedlikeaseamonster,shebeganloadingsugarcubesintohercup.“Whatmadeyouthinkthat?”
Ceciliawasquietamomentassherecollectedtheman.Hehadbeenhandsomeinaratherdangerousway,despitetheridiculouscoat.Alightinhiseyeshadsuggestedhe’dknownhisbrochurewouldnotfoolher,buthe’dentertainedhimselfwiththeposeanyway.Shepredictedhishairwouldfalloverhisbrowifabreezewentthroughit,andthattheslightbulgeinhistrousershadbeenincaseshewasnothappytoseehim—adagger,orperhapsagun.
“Well?”herauntprompted,andCeciliablinkedherselfbackintofocus.
“Hehadatattooofananchoronhiswrist,”shesaid.“Partofitwasvisiblefrombeneathhissleeve.Buthedidnotoffermeasecrethandshake,norinvitehimselfinfortea,asanyoneofdecentpiraticsocietywouldhavedone,soItookhimforarogueandshuthimout.”
“Aroguepirate!Atourdoor!”MissDarlingtonmadeasmall,disapprovingnoisebehindpursedlips.“Howreprehensible.Thinkofthegermshemighthavehad.Iwonderwhathewasafter.”
Ceciliashrugged.HadHiawathaconfrontedthemagicianyet?Shecouldnotremember.Herfinger,three-quartersofthewaydownthepage,movedupagain.“TheScopediamond,perhaps,”shesaid.“OrLadyAskew’snecklace.”
MissDarlingtonclankedateaspoonaroundhercupinamannerthatmadeCeciliawince.“Imagineifyouhadbeenoutasyouplanned,Ceciliadear.WhatwouldIhavedone,hadhebrokenin?”
“Shothim?”Ceciliasuggested.
MissDarlingtonarchedtwovehementlypluckedeyebrowstowardtheringletsonherbrow.“Goodheavens,child,whatdoyoutakemefor,amaniac?Thinkofthedamagearicochetingbulletwoulddointhisroom.”
“Stabbedhim,then?”
“Andgetbloodallovertherug?It’sasixteenth-centuryPersianantique,youknow,partoftheroyalcollection.Ittookagreatdealofefforttoacquire.”
“Steal,”Ceciliamurmured.
“Obtainbyprivatemeans.”
“Well,”Ceciliasaid,abandoningalosingbattleinfavoroftheoriginaltopicofconversation.“ItwasindeedfortunateIwashere.‘Thelevelmoonstaredathim—’”
“Themoon?Isitupalready?”MissDarlingtonglaredatthewallasifshemightseethroughitsswarmofframedpictures,itswallpaperandwood,tothecelestialorbbeyond,andthereforeconveyherdisgustatitsdiurnalshenanigans.
“No,itstaredatHiawatha,”Ceciliaexplained.“Inthepoem.”
“Oh.Carryon,then.”
“‘Inhisfacestaredpaleandhaggard—’”
“Repetitivefellow,isn’the?”
“Poetsdotendto—”
MissDarlingtonwavedahandirritably.“Idon’tmeanthepoet,girl.Thepirate.Look,he’snowtryingtoclimbinthewindow.”
Ceciliaglanceduptoseethemanfromthedoorsteptuggingonthewoodenframeoftheparlorwindow.Althoughhisfacewasobscuredbythelacecurtain,shefanciedshecouldseehimmutteringwithexasperation.Sighing,shelaiddownthebookoncemore,rosegracefully,andmadeherwaythroughaclutteroffurniture,statuettes,vasesbearinglong-stemmedrosesfromthegarden(theneighbor’sgarden,tobeprecise),andvariouspriceless(whichistosaypurloined)goods,topartthecurtain,unlatchthewindow,andslideitup.
“Yes?”sheaskedinthesametoneshehadusedatthedoorstep.
Themanseemedratherstartledbyherappearance.Hishairhadfallenexactlyasshehadsupposeditwould,andhisshadowedeyesheldamoresobermoodthanbefore.
“IfyouaskagainformyinterestinthegreatNorthAtlanticauk,”Ceciliasaid,“Iwillbeobligedtotellyouthebirdhasinfactbeenextinctforalmostfiftyyears.”
“Icouldhaveswornthiswindowopenedtoabedroom,”hesaid,brushinghishairbacktorevealamildfrown.
“Wearenotcommonrabble,tosleeponthegroundfloor.Idon’tknowyourname,foryouhavenotdoneusthecourtesyofleavingacallingcard,butIassumeitwouldinanycasebeanomdepirata.Iamalltooawareofyourkind.”
“Nodoubt,”hereplied,“sinceyouarealsomykind.”
Ceciliagasped.“Howdareyou,sir!”
“DoyoudenythatyouandyourauntbelongtotheWisteriaSocietyandsoareamongthemostnotoriouspiratesinEngland?”
“Idon’tdenyit,butthatismyexactpoint.Wearefarsuperiortoyourkind.Furthermore,thesearenotappropriatebusinesshours.Wearetenminutesawayfromtakingluncheon,andyouhaveinconveniencedustwicenow.Pleaseremoveyourselffromthepremises.”
“But—”
“Iampreparedtouseagreaterforceofpersuasionifrequired.”Sheheldupthebone-handledletteropener,andhelaughed.
“Ohno,pleasedon’tprickme,”hesaidmockingly.
Ceciliaflickedaminusculelatchontheletteropener’shandle.Inaninstant,withahissofsteel,theletteropenerextendedtotheextremelyeffectivelengthofarapier.
Themansteppedback.“Isay,there’snoneedforsuchviolence.IonlywantedtowarnyouthatLadyArmitagehastakenoutacontractonyourlife.”
FromacrosstheroomcameMissDarlington’sdry,brusquelaugh.Ceciliaherselfmerelysmiled,andeventhenwithonlyonesideofhermouth.
“Thatishardlycauseforbreakingandentering.LadyArmitagehasbeentryingtokillmyauntforyearsnow.”
“Notyouraunt,”hesaid.“You.”
AdelicateflushwaftedbrieflyoverCecilia’sface.“I’mflattered.Shehasactuallyemployedanassassin?”
“Yes,”themansaidinadiretone
“Anddoesthisassassinhaveaname?”
“EduardodeLuca.”
“Italian,”Ceciliasaid,disappointmentwitheringeachsyllable.
“Youneedtobeabitolderbeforeyoucanattractaproperassassin,mydear,”MissDarlingtonadvisedfromtheinterior.
Themanfrowned.“EduardodeLucaisaproperassassin.”
“Ha.”MissDarlingtonsatbackinherchairandcrossedheranklesinanuncharacteristicallydissolutefashion.“IventuretoguessSignordeLucahasneveryetkilledanycreaturegreaterthanafly.”
“Andwhywouldyousaythat,madam?”themandemanded.
Shelookeddownhernoseathim,quiteafeatconsideringshewassomedistanceaway.“Arealassassinwouldhireasensibletailor.Andabarber.Andwouldnotattempttomurdersomeonefiveminutesbeforeluncheon.Closethewindow,Cecilia,you’llcatchconsumptionfromthaticydraft.”
“Wait,”themansaid,holdingoutahand,butCeciliaclosedthewindow,turnedthelatch,anddrewtogethertheheavyvelvetdrapes.
“DoyouthinkPleasancemightbereadysoonwithourmeal?”sheaskedasshemovedacrosstheroom—nottoherchair,buttothedoorleadingintothehall.
“Sitdown,Cecilia,”MissDarlingtonordered.“Aladydoesnotpaceinthisrestlessmanner.”
Ceciliadidasshewasbiddenbutupontakingupherbooklaiditdownagainwithoutaglance.Shebrushedataspeckofdustonhersleeve.
“Fidgeting.”MissDarlingtonsnappedouttheobservationandCeciliahastilyplacedbothhandstogetheronherlap.
“Maybetherewillbechickentoday,”shesaid.“PleasanceusuallyroastsachickenonTuesdays.”
“Indeedshedoes,”MissDarlingtonagreed.“However,todayisThursday.Whereareyourwits,girl?Surelyyouarenotinsuchhystericsoveramerecontractofassassination?”
“No,”Ceciliasaid.ButshebitherlipanddaredaglanceatMissDarlington.TheoldladylookedbackatherwithatraceofsympathysofaintitmighthaveexistedonlyinCecilia’simagination,wereCeciliatohavesuchathing.
“Theassassinwon’tactuallybeItalian,”sheassuredherniece.“Armitagedoesn’thavetheblunttoemployaforeigner.Itwillbesomejumped-upJohnnyfromtheTilburyDocks.”
ThisdidnotimproveCecilia’sspirits.Shetuggedunconsciouslyonthesilverlocketthathungfromablackribbonaroundherneck.Seeingthis,MissDarlingtonsighedwithimpatience.Herownlocketofsimilarforlornaspectrodethegraycrinolineswathingherbosom,andshewishedforamomentthatshemightspeakoncemorewiththewomanwhoseportraitandlockofgoldenhairrestedwithin.Butthen,Cillawouldhaveevenlesspatienceforasulkingmaiden.
“Lamb,”shesaidwithaneffortatgentleness.Ceciliablinked,hereyesdarkeningtoawistfulorphanblue.MissDarlingtonfrowned.“Ifit’sThursday,”sheelaborated,“luncheonwillbelamb,withmintsauceandboiledpotatoes.”
“Yes,you’reright,”Ceciliasaid,pullingherselftogether.“Alsopeas.”
MissDarlingtonnodded.Itwasasatisfactoryendtothematter,andshecouldhaveleftitthere.Afterall,onedoesnotwanttoencouragetheyoungergenerationtoomuch,lesttheylosesightoftheirproperplace:underone’sthumb.Shedecided,however,totakepityonthegirl,havingherselfoncebeenashigh-spirited.“Perhapstomorrowtheweatherwillbebetterfitforsomeperambulation,”shesaid.“Youmightgotothelibrary,andafterwardgetabunfromSallyLunn’s.”
“Butisn’tthatinBath?”
“Ithoughtachangeofscenerymightdousgood.Mayfairisbecomingaltogethertoorowdy.Weshallflythehousedownthisafternoon.ItwillbeachancetogivePleasancearefreshercourseontheflightincantation’slaststanza.Hervowelsarestilltooflat.Approachingthegroundwithone’sfrontdooratathirty-degreeangleisrathermoreexcitementthanonelikesforanafternoon.Andyes,IcanseefromyourexpressionyoustillthinkIshouldn’thavesharedtheincantation’ssecretwithher,butPleasancecanbetrusted.Granted,shedidflythatbookshopintotheSerpentinewhentheytoldhertheydidn’tstockanyDickensnovels,butthatonlyshowsapraiseworthyenthusiasmforliterature.She’llgetussafelytoBath,andthenyoucantakeanicestrollamongtheshops.Maybeyoucanbuysomeprettylaceribbonsoranewdaggerbeforegettingyouricedbun.”
“Thankyou,Aunty,”Ceciliaanswered,justasshewassupposedto.InfactshewouldratherhavegonetoOxford,orevenjustacrosstheparktovisittheNaturalHistoryMuseum,buttosuggesteitherwouldriskMissDarlingtonreversingherdecisionaltogether.Soshesimplysmiledandobeyed.Therefollowedamoment’spleasantquiet.
“Althougheatonlyhalfthebun,mindyou,”MissDarlingtonsaidasCeciliatookupHiawathaandtriedyetagaintofindherplaceamongthereedsandwaterlilies.“Wedon’twantyoufallingillwithcholera.”
“Thatisadiseaseofcontaminatedwater,Aunty.”
MissDarlingtonsniffed,notlikingtobecorrected.“AbakeruseswaterI’msuretomakehiswares.Onecanneverbetoocareful,dear.”
“Yes,Aunty.‘Thelevelmoonstaredathim,inhisfacestaredpaleandhaggard,’til—’”
Crash!
Thetwowomenlookedoveratthewindowasitshattered.Agrenadetumbledontothecarpet.
Ceciliaexpelledasighoftedium.Shesnappedthebookshut,wendedherwaythroughthefurnishings,pulledbackthedrapes,anddepositedthegrenadethroughthebrokenwindowpaneontotheterrace,whereitexplodedinaflashofburninglight,brickshards,andflutteringlavenderbuds.
“Ahem.”
CeciliaturnedtoseePleasancestandinginthedrawingroomdoorway,pluckingaglasssplinterfromoneofthedarkcurlsthathabituallyescapedherwhitelacecap.
“Excusetheinterruption,misses,butIhavenews,”shedeclaredintheportentoustonesofayoungwomanwhospenttoomuchtimereadingluridGothicfictionandconsortingwiththefigmentsofhermelodramaticimagination.“Luncheonisserved.”
MissDarlingtonpushedherselfupfromthechair.“Pleasearrangeforaglaziertocomeassoonaspossible,Pleasance.WeshallhavetousetheLilacDrawingRoomthisafternoon,althoughIprefertokeepitforentertainingguests.Theriskfromthatbrokenwindowissimplytoogreattobear.Myowndearcousinnearlydiedofpneumoniaundersimilarcircumstances,asyouknow.”
Ceciliamurmuredanagreement,althoughsherecalledthatCousinAlathea’sillness,contractedwhileattemptingtoflyacottageinahurricane,hadlittlerealconsequenceotherthanthelossofachimney(andfivecrewmembers)—AlatheacontinuingoninrobusthealthtomaraudthecoastlineforseveralmoreyearsbeforelosingaskirmishwithLordVesbry’spetalligatorwhileholidayingintheSouthofFrance.
MissDarlingtontappedapathacrosstheroomwithhermahoganycane,butCeciliapaused,twitchingthedrapesslightlysoastopeerthroughjaggedglassandsmokeatthegarden.Theassassinwasleaningbackagainsttheironrailingsofthehouseacrossthestreet.HenoticedCeciliaandtouchedonefingertohistempleinsalutation.Ceciliafrowned.
“Don’tdawdle,girl,”MissDarlingtonchastised.Cecilialoweredthecurtain,adjustingitslightlysoithungstraight,andthenfollowedheraunttowardthediningroomandtheirThursdaylambroast.2theladyanticipateshercaller—adisappointment—theplightofcecilia’sdigits—anotherexplosion(figurative)—whiskeyatwhite’s—barbarouso’riley—theloomingabbey—twocaptainsconfer—betrayalisexposed
IsabellaArmitagewasnobird-brainedgirl;andnopoliceforcehadensnaredher,despitetheireffortsovertheyears.Lately,however,shehadfoundherselftemptedtodosomethingthatwouldalmostcertainlyseeherimprisoned,regardlessofherwealthanddegree.
TheoutrageofthatDarlingtonwomandisplayingherselfinplainview(thatis,toanyonewithbinoculars)insuchanobledistrictasMayfair,whenshewasnobetterthanacommonfingersmith!LadyArmitagecouldnotabideit.
Granted,suchoutrageshadbeenoccurringforadecade,butfamiliaritywasnoimpedimenttoLadyArmitage’swrath.AsadaughteroftheHollisterfamilyfromYork,noneofwhomhadknowinglyspokentoanydenizenofLancashireinthefourcenturiessincetheWarsoftheRoses,shefeltnodifficultysustainingameretenyears’indignation.
Evenso,she’dtriedallshecouldtosmoothtroubledwaters.ButDarlingtonhadrudelypersistedinavoidingtheknife(andgun,poison,rabiddog,fallfromagreatheight,garrote,flamingarrow).Thetimehadcomefordifferenttactics.AsadaughteroftheFairleyclanonherdistaffside,LadyArmitagehadallthewitandflexibilitythathadseenherancestorssurvivethecivilwarbydeftlyswitchingsides,religions,andmarriages,whenevercircumstancesrequired.Sheneedn’ttryaseventeenthtimetoexterminatetheDarlingtonwoman.Shewouldtransitionpromptlytoanewplan
KillingCecilia.
Thepiratehadpromisedtohelp.“Justrest,andI’llassassinateherforyou,”hehadsaid,smilinginalithe,meltingwaythatremindedLadyArmitageofhersecondhusbandbeforetheslow-actingpoisonbeganbloatinghistongue.She’dbeenwaryabouthiringanoutsider,butwithinfiveminutesoftheirmeeting,thepiratehadfilledherwithmurderousexcitement.They’dsippedwine,exchangedafewjokesaboutpoison,beforegettingdowntobusiness,andshe’dfeltdeepinherheart(oratleastsomewhere)thathewastheoneforthejob.
“Howwouldyoulikeitdone?”he’dasked.“Gun,garrote?”
LadyArmitagehadshrugged.“Ileavethatuptoyourartisticdiscretion,SignordeLuca.Butkillingonly.Nothingimpolite.Iamanethicalwoman,andCeciliaisafterallinnocent.”
He’draisedaneyebrowindisputeofanyone’sinnocence,andLadyArmitagehadfeltsogentlychided,sotenderlyassumedtobenaive,justlikeasweetandadorablewoman,thatshehadactuallyblushedforthefirsttimeinseventyyears.Murderingthreehusbands(andmisplacingafourth)tendedtoinureawomantomasculinecharm,andyetasthismanhadlookedatherovertherimofhiswineglass,she’dfoundherselfunexpectedlyaflutterandtryingtorememberdizzilywhereshe’dstoredherweddingring.
“MissDarlingtonwillbeprostratewithgriefatthelossofherniece,”she’dsaid.“It’sevenbetterthankillingthewomanherself.AndthenofcourseI’llkillhertoo,butCecilia’sdeathwillsoftenherupforassassination.”
“It’saninterestingplan,”thesignorhadagreed.“TellmeaboutCecilia.WhatdoIneedtoknow?”
“Oh,she’sadeargirl.”She’dsighed,rememberingaquiet,somberchildwhocalledherAuntyArmyandwasfascinatedbyherdaggercollection.Thatwasbackinthegoodolddays,downatthedocksandalongthegoldenshores,whentheWisteriaSocietystillmetregularlytodiscussknittingpatternsandthelatestexplosivescatalog.Howlongagohaditbeen?LongenoughthatlittleCeciliawasallgrownupandeligibleforassassination.
Thinkingofit,LadyArmitagehadsighedagain,melancholic.AndSignordeLucahadreachedover,onestrandofhairfallingacrosshiseyeroguishly,andpattedherhandwithgentlesympathy.
“Doit,”she’dsaid,staringathislong,swoopinglashes,hiscurvinglips.“Killthegirl.Andthenwe’lldealwithDarlington.”
He’dlaughedanddrunkatoasttoherbrilliance,andshe’dspentthateveningsewingrosettesontoagarteranddreamingoftheItalianhillsbrightwithsummer’ssunasshetouredthemonher(fifth)honeymoon.
Theverynextday,he’dsetherplanintoaction.Anditworked!LadyArmitagewatchedwithbatedbreath,butafterthedustoftheexplosionsettled,shecoulddiscernnomovementfromtheDarlingtondrawingroom.Maybeatwitchofthedrapes,butthatwouldonlybenaturalconsideringthegreatrushofair.Onthestreet,neighborsweregatheringinastateofpanic,notsomuchfromtheexplosionasfromtherealizationthatthereweretwopiratehousesintheirmidst,butLadyArmitagehadnointerestinthem.Afterall,piratesdidthecivicthingbydisplayingablackflagfromtheirroofwhilstgoingaboutpillagingandblowingthingsapart.Ifthepublicfailedtolookup,whosefaultwasthat?
Sheturnedawayfromthewindow,allowingherselfasatisfiednod.PoorCecilia,deadsoyoung.Andyet,thechithadbeenhalfaghostalready,pallidandquiet:afaintremembranceofhermother.
Thethoughttossedamemoryupwithit,avisionofbrightbillowinghair,flashingeyes…andasword-piercedbreastsoakedinblood.LadyArmitageshuddered.
Thensmiled.Thiswasnotimetobemaudlin.She’djustkilledagirl!Alreadytheairseemedbrighter(ifliterallydarker,duetosmokefromthebomb).Sweepingherselfdownuponapinkvelvetdivan,shereclinedsensuouslytoawaitSignordeLuca’sarrival.
Amomentlatershesatuptobesureherstockingsweretautbeforeeasingbackoncemore.Withacarefulhand,shesmoothedthehighplumeofhersnow-coloredhair(itisentirelypossiblesnowinpartsofthenorthcountrycouldbegray)andsettledherexpressionintoelegance.
Severalminutespassedwithoutaction.LadyArmitagewasyawning,scratchingatanitchwithinherear,whenherbutler,Whittaker,finallyusheredinthepirate.
“Whattookyousolongtogethere?”shedemandedquerulously.
Hebowed.“Ibegyourpardon.Ihadtoclimbadrainpipetoreachthefrontdoor.Itseemsyourhouseiscurrentlysittingatoptheroofofanother.”
“Weareexperiencingminortechnicaldifficulties.”
Eversinceherlady’smaidhadthrownallgoodsensetothewindandrunawaytobecomealibrarian,LadyArmitagehadbeenforcedtoflythehouseherself.Clearly,however,herbrilliantmindoverpoweredtheancientflightincantation.Lastmonth,she’dbunnyhoppedthehouseintotheAvonRiverandhadtoreplaceallhercarpets;thisweekshe’daimedforChesterfieldStreetandendeduponarooftopinstead.Alas,theperilsofgenius.Atownhousewassimplytoolight;nodoubtsomecastleorcathedralwouldbettercontaintheforcesofhergreatintellect.Besides,she’dalwaysfanciedhavingoneofthoseportcullythingiesatherfrontdoor.
Sheoughttotrainoneofherotherservantstoflythehouse,buttheywereallmen,andLadyArmitagedoubtedtheirmentalstrength.Oh,theylookedrobustenoughintheirelegantlivery,butcouldtheykeepitupallnight?Inherexperience,theycouldnot.Atleasttwoofherhusbandshadputitintoquagmires,andathirdlandeditonQueenVictoria’shead(theheadoftheroyalstatueinExeter,thatis).LadyArmitagethoughtshewasbetteroffmanagingthingsherself,andifthatmeantperchingontheoccasionalrooftop—well,shecouldsimplycallitapenthouse.
“Besides,”shesaidtoSignordeLuca,“IshouldimagineclimbingisnoproblemforanItalian.”
Hisexpressionwentmomentarilyblankashetriedtoparsethislogic.Thenhesmiledagain.“Half-Italian,ma’am.”
“Nevermindyourpreposterousheritage,isthedeeddone?”
“Yes,”hesaid,andherspiritsrosesohightheyburstforthasasmilefromherthin,creasedlips.
“Thatistosay,”headded,andherspiritsdroopedagain,asdidhermouth.“Notquiteyet,mylady.Butwehavethemontherun.”
LadyArmitagesmackedherhandagainstthemahoganyrimofthedivanandtriednottowinceaspainshotthroughherbones.“Ontherun?Ontherun?Thehouseisstillstandingrightthere!”Shegesturedtothewindow,throughwhichtheDarlingtonhousecouldbeseenifonewalkedoverandlookedout(anddown).
“Imeanttheirblood,ma’am,”heansweredsmoothly.LadyArmitagebegantosuspecthisprettysmilewasmockingher.“Theirpulseswillberacingwithfear.”
“Ha.Thatisnoaccomplishment.YoumighthaveaseasilysneezedinDarlington’sdirectionandachievedthesameresult.Idonotwantthemrunning;Iwantthatgirllyingstill,motionless,dead,andDarlingtondestroyedbyagriefthatwillendonlywhenIliterallydestroyher.Youhavefailedme,SignordeLuca!”
Shewouldhaveswoonedindespair,butthedivanwasrathernarrowandshedidnottrustthatafaintwouldn’tseehertopplingontothefloor.
“Ma’am,Iassureyounot,”themansaid.Hetookasteptowardher,hissmilerisingatonetipinmuchthesamewayashark’smightwhentrailingitsprey.LadyArmitagewatchedwarilyashekneltononekneebesidethedivanandgraspedherhand.Itwasthelefthand,withitspalebandaroundthethirdfingerwhereherringhadbeen(thesameringwitheachmarriage,forwhilehusbandswereeasilydiscarded,areallynicering,flatteringtothefinger,wasnot).Hekissedit,thengazedupatheroverherknuckles,throughhiseyelashes.Shealmostslidrightoffthevelvetintohislap;onlyhercorset,whichwastootightlylacedforsuddenmovements,savedher.
“IwilladmitIliketoplayalittlewithmyquarry,”hesaidinawry,murmuringvoice.“Asyouknow,apirate’slifecanbetedious,andwetakeourfunwherewecan.”
Shesighed.“Eduardo,Eduardo,whatshallIdowithyou?”
“Oh,anythingyoulike,ma’am,”heanswered,grinning.
Shesnatchedbackherhandandscrambledoffthedivanbeforeshereallydidfindherselfinacompromisingposition.Afterall,itwasnicetodream,butthereremainedsomelegaldoubtaboutthevitalityofherlostfourthhusband,andshecouldhardlypointtotheparticularheapinthedust-yardthatwouldsettlethematteronceandforall.
Behindherback,Nedrolledhiseyes,butwhenLadyArmitageglancedhiswayagainhewassmilingsweetlyashegottohisfeet.
Charmingboy,shethought.Fartoocharmingforanyone’sgood.Probablybestnottolookathim.“Wellnow,”shesaidbriskly,pacingtheroom,pausinghereandtheretostrokeastuffedpeacock,stareataportraitofanobleancestor,shiftachimpanzee’sskullslightlyonitsdoily.“Iappreciateyourjovialmanner,Eduardo,butIdosowantthegirldead.Perhapsyoucould,forme,tryalittlesolemnity?Alittlestabbing,orsuffocatingherinher—um,chair?Notinherbed,ofcourse,thatwouldbescandalous.Andnomoreincendiarydevices.TherearetreasuresinthathousetobescavengedonceDarlingtonisdead,andabombmightdamagethem.Whenyouhavecompletedyourtask,bringmethegirl’ssmallestfinger,orperhapsatoeortwo,andIwillpayyououragreedamount.”
Sheriskedanotherglance,andherpulsefalteredasshesawasuddencoldnessinhiseyes.Butthenextmoment,withoutevenblinking,hewasreturninghergazewithpleasantequanimity.
“Hersmallestfinger,”hesaid,andbowed.Ifhewasdownthereatouchlongerthanordinary,LadyArmitagethoughtnothingofit,exceptperhapsthathemeanttoshowherrespect.Whenhestraightened,hishairhadslippeddown,andheseemedyounger—yetmoredangeroustoherheart,bothintermsofsentimentandinregardtoitsinabilitytofunctionwithaknifeimpaledinit.
“IshallretiretoLymeRegis.Whenyouhavekilledthegirl,youwillfindmesituatedonMarineParade.IhaveamindtowalktheCobbandfeeltheseabreezethroughmytresses.”
Hisgazeflickedtotheerectfanofherhair,butotherwisehisexpressiondidnotalter.“ThatwillbealongjourneyfromLondon.Youmighthavetowaitawhileforyourdigitustruncatum.”
“Ohyes,Iforgotyoulostyourhouseandarereducedtotravelingbymerehorse.Poorboy,lessapiratethesedaysthanahighwayman.”
Hesaidnothinginquitethemostdisturbingmanner,andLadyArmitagefoundherselfreachingforthelocketshekeptonafobchainatherwaist.Itscoolgoldsurfacealwayseasedherthoughts,despitetheheatedmemoryitcontained.Oh,Cilla,shethought,whathastheworldcometo,withoutyouinit?Prettyboyswithprovocativesmiles,sweetgirlswhowillnotdie.Itisalmostmorethanapoor,frailwomancanbear!
Sheturnedtolookagainattheassassin.“Iwantherdead,doyouunderstand?Dead.AndIwantproof.Youhavesevendays.”
“Yourwishismycommand.”
Sheextendedherlongwhitehand,fingersdrapingfromtheirbones,ringsglintinginthelightofthechandelierabove.SheappliedthesteelywillofherThorvaldsonheritage(fromhergrandmotheronherfather’sside)andabsolutelydidnotallowthehandtotremble,nomatterwhatherheartwasdoingwithinitssecretcage.
Hecrossedtheroom,tookherhand—butthenunexpectedlyloweredit,and,leaningcloser,hekissedhermouthinstead.
Itwasasifhehadtossedanotherofhisbombs;heatwishesanddesiccatedflowersexplodedinherbrain.Shiftingback,hegaveherathoroughlypiraticalgrin,thendepartedtheroomwithoutfurtherword.
“Well,”LadyArmitagesaid,fanningherself.“Outrageous!”
Fallingontothedivan,shelaidahandagainstherbrow.Shefeltdecidedlyhotandbothered.ButbeingaThorvaldsonmadeherkintoVikings,whohadbrutalizedhalftheknownworld,andshehadpracticedherownpiracyruthlessly,successfully(indeed,Vikingly),fordecadesbeforethatboyhadevenbeenborn.NoonekissedLadyIsabellaArmitageandgotawaywithitforlong.
Whilesheawaitedtheluncheonbell,sheponderedwhomshemightemploytoassassinatetheassassin.
FortherestofthatafternoonNedsatinWhite’sclubforgentlemen,drinkingwhiskeytocleansethetasteofLadyArmitagefromhismouth.HehadstoppedoffatHenryPoole&Co.alongthewayandoutfittedhimselfinthebestsuitcounterfeitmoneycouldbuy,forhealwayshonoredtheclub’sdresscode,evenifhewasnot,legallyspeaking,amember.Hehadfinallysucceededinriddinghimselfoftheoldlady’stangandwascontemplatingwherehemightsleepthatnightwhenadark-hairedmandroppedabruptlyintothechairoppositehim.
Damn.ItwasAlexO’Riley—pirate,smuggler,generalrogueabouttown,andjustwhoNedleastwantedtoseerightnow.Withoutaword,themanslouchedbackinthechair,hislongblackcoatfallingopentorevealashirtbereftofeithertieorwaistcoat.Herestedhisbootsuponthemahoganytableasifhewasinalocalpubandpushedahandagainstonedarkblueeye,squintingatNedwiththeotherasifhe’djustcomefromanotherlocalpubandstillhadthehangovertoproveit.
Nedfrowned.Alexwasthesortwhogavepiratesabad—thatistosay,anevenworse—name;onealmostexpectedhimtoshout,Ahoy!whilepushingpeopleoffaplankfromhissittingroomintoshark-infestedwatersfarbelow.HewasalsoNed’sfavoritepersonintheworld.Theyhadswindledlordstogether,gotdrunktogethermoretimesthaneithercouldremember,andoncetheyforcedAlex’sramshacklehousetoitslimitsmakingtheLondon-Cashelruninlessthantwelvehours,althoughtheydidloseafewwindowpanesalongtheway.Nedcountedhimassomethinggreaterthanabrother:atruefriend.
“Goaway,”hemuttered,drinkingthelastofhiswhiskeyinoneswallow.
“Charming,”Alexrepliedlightly.Hecrossedoneankleovertheother,hisbootbucklesimperilingthetable’spolishandcausinganearbygentlemantogaspinoutrage.“Youlookmiserable.Whathaveyoubeendoing,handingoutfreefoodorsomething?”
Nedpouredmorewhiskeyfromacrystaldecanter.“Worse.WhyamIlookingatyouruglyface,O’Riley?Aren’tyousupposedtobeinIreland?”Hemadeanofferinggesturewiththedecanter.
“Cheers,”Alexsaid,takingitanddrinkingwithoutanyinterventionofglassorgoodmanners.Theneighboringgentlemangaspedmorepointedly;evenNedraisedaneyebrow.“Don’tmindme,”Alexsaidwithacrookedsmile.“IwasindeedinIreland,soIneedallthealcoholIcanget.”
“Yourfather?”
Thedecantercamedownonthetablewithathud.“Let’snottalkaboutit.WhatbringsyoutoWhite’sonthisfineday?”
“I’mmeetingsomeoneyoudon’twantto.Hence,goaway.”
“Who?”
Nedansweredwithnomorethanalong,coldstare,andAlexstoppedsmiling.Heswunghisfeetdownfromthetable.“Not—”
“Yes.HaveImentioned,goaway?”
Alexleanedforward,somber.“Damn,Ned,areyousureyoushouldbedoingthat?Iknowhe—”
“I’msure.”
“Can’tIhelpyouto—”
“No.Idon’tneedanyhelp.”
“Everyoneneedshelpsometimes.”
Nedscowled.Cillahadsaidthosesamewordstohimonce,andherghosthadwhisperedthemthroughtheyearseversince,remindinghimofdarkpromiseshehadyettokeep.Hisscowlshiftedintoagrimsmile.“I’mbetteroffonmyown,O’Riley.Youcanhelpbyleavingbeforehegetshere.”
“Look,”Alexsaid,uncharacteristicallyserious.“Iknowwe’vedonesomewildthingsinourday,butthisismoredangerousthanevenI’dwanttocontemplate,andthat’ssayingsomething.Ithinkyou’vegonemad.”
Nedlaughed.“Nodoubt.Now,stoptalking.Hejustwalkedin.Ifyouvalueourfriendship,gostealsomething—seducesomeone—justgo.”
“Allright.”Alexstood,buthelingeredamomentlonger,frowningdownatNed.“I’llleave,butknowthatI’minLondonifyouneedme.”
“Iwon’tneedyou.”
Alexreluctantlyleft,slippingtheneighboringgentleman’sgoldcigarettecasefromthetableintohiscoatpocketalongtheway.Nedwouldhavewhispered,Idon’tneedanyoneatall,butatthatmomentashadowfelloverhim,acoolness,agreatdraggingsilenceliketheemptydarkchambersofanancientabbey.Nedsighedintohiswhiskeyglass.
“CaptainMorvath,”hesaidasthemanslidintoachair.Thisonedidn’tslouchorputuphisfeet.Thisoneheldhimselflikeacockedweapon.
“EdwardLightbourne.”Itwasasoftvoice,typicalofthosewholonghadspokenwithgreatpower;avoicethatcouldwhisperdeathinatowerroomandfarbelowamanwouldbestrangledamongthegardenroses.
“YoushouldsayCaptainLightbourne,”Nedreplied.
“Captainofwhat?Yourhousefelloffacliff.Captainofahorse,perchance?Orarentedcarriage?”
Nedsaidnothing,swallowedwhiskey.Helookedsidelongatthesleek,gray-hairedman,seeingonlyangleslikeascimitar,eyeslikechar,cruelsuggestionsintheshadows.Behindhim,atthefarendoftheroom,Alexwasglancingbackworriedly.ThewhiskeyburnedinNed’sthroat.
“I’vebeenlookingforyou,”Morvathsaidominously.
Nedshrugged.“Iwasbusywithapersonalmatter.”
“Youhavenopersonalmattersuntilyougetmyjobdone.Whowasthatmanyouwerejusttalkingto?”
“Someidiottryingtosellmeonaninvestmentidea.”
“Ihopeyoudidn’tlistentohim.BelievemewhenItellyoupeoplecan’tbetrusted.Whichremindsme,therewasanexplosioninChesterfieldStreetearlier.Ifyouweretheoneresponsible…”
“Iwasn’t,”Nedliedcomplacently
“Iwantthegirlbroughttomesafeandsound,Lightbourne.Noexplosions.Doyouunderstand?”
“Iunderstand.”InfacthewasonlytoowellawareofthewrithingdepthsofMorvath’spsyche,whereabastardheritagethecaptaincouldneverproperlyclaimlurkedlikeanaquaticmonster,rearingnowinamomentofnarcissism,nowinamomentofabjectworthlessness.Morvathwasridingthatmonsterwiththeintentionofdestroyinganyonewhohadoffendedhim,buthisplanforCeciliaseemedinsomewaysworsethandestruction.
Nedtriednottothinkaboutit.“Youcancountonme,”hesaid.
Thecaptainexpelledahissinglaugh,andNedunderstoodhewasnotcountedonbeyondthemerestfraction.Itcameasarelief.PeoplewhomPatrickMorvathreliedupontendedtoendupfacedownbeneaththeroses.
“Anyonetriestoassassinateher,youkillthem,”Morvathsaid,andNedtriednottosmirk.“Darlingtonhouseisonthemove.IhearditfromoveronCurzonStreet.Someoneismakingarealhashofthespell’sunmooringphrase.”
“Interesting.”Neddrankwhiskeyagainandwishedhecouldunmoorhimselfandflyawaytosomecozyhearthfiremilesfromhere,wherethedrinkwaswarmmilkandthecompanynotahomicidalmaniac.
“Followthem,”Morvathordered.“Stealahouseor,Idon’tknow,awheelbarrowforallIcare.Andnomoredistractionswith‘personalmatters’ifyoudon’twantmetostartdockingyou.”
“Youhaven’tpaidmeanywagesatallyet,”Nedremindedhim.
“Iwasn’ttalkingaboutdockingwages,”Morvathsaid,andstaredpointedlyatNed’sear.“Timeisrunningout.EverythingmustbeinplacebeforetheQueen’sJubileeBanquet.Alltheotherelementsofmyplanarecomingtogetherlikethelinesofanexquisitepoem.Myspiesareready,myartillerycomplete.It’sbeautiful,Edward,thebestplanthat’severbeenmade.Onlythislastthingremains.Ifyoufailmewithit,orbetrayme,you’llbesorry.‘InthenextworldIcouldnotbeworsethanIaminthis.’”
Nednodded.Therewasreallynothingtosaywhenthecaptainbeganquotinghisill-fatedbirthfather.Atleastitwasbetterthanwhenhebeganquotinghisownpoetry.Nedtriednottoshudderattheverythought.Glancingovertheman’sshoulder,hesawthatAlexhadfinallyleft.Somethingspikymovedinhisheart.Damnthatanyoneshouldtakeapirateathisword.Buthe’dgoneintothisventurealone,andreallyafriendwouldonlygetintheway.HelookedbackatMorvathcoolly.
“WhataboutMissDarlington?”
Morvath’sfacedarkened.“Idon’tcareabouther,”hegrowled.“JustCecilia.Understand?”
Nedsetdownhiswhiskeyandturnedasmile—hard,sharp,uncompromisedbyhumor—totheolderman.“Yourservant,sir.”
“Excellent,”Morvathsaid.“Soon,Edward,verysoon,Englandwillburn.It’sgoingtobeabeautifulthing.”Three
Acrosstown,ChibalelingeredacrossthestreetfromMadameRenauld’s.He’dstoodthereforaboutaquarterofanhour,tryingtoworkupthenervetogoinside.ThefeelingshehadwhenhethoughtofMadameRenauldwerenotlikeanythinghe’deverexperiencedbefore.Hischestfelttightandhisheartbeatfast.Hefeltslightlylightheaded,andhe’dspentpartofthelastquarterhourtakingdeepbreathsandtalkinghimselfintowalkinginsidethemodiste’sshop.HewasChibaleOkoro,sonofGambaOkoro,whowassonofThimba,thegreatwarriorandlionhunter.Ifhisgrandfathercouldhuntdownalion,Chibalecouldfaceawomanwithnothingmoredeadlythananeedleandthread.
Awomanpassedinfrontoftheshop,stopped,peeredathim,andcrossedthestreet.Chibalerecognizedherbelatedlyandstraightened.“Whyareyoustandingouthere?”Bethanieasked.Shewashisyoungersisterandthefavoriteofhissiblings.Althoughshewasalmostseventeen,shelookedmuchyounger.Liketheirmother,shewasshortandslim.Sheworeherhairinapinned-uptwist,andsheworeadaydressoflightbluewhichsuitedhercoppercomplexion.Chibalehimselfwasdark,likehisfather.Assuch,hepreferredboldercolors,butthepalebluesuitedBethanie.
“Iwaswaitingforyou,”Chibalesaid.
Bethaniegavehimanoddlook.“It’sfreezingouthere.Youshouldhavewaitedinside.”
Chibaleofferedhisarm,givinghimselfonemoresilentlecturetobebrave.Thoughhewasnotreligious,hecalleduponthespiritofhisgrandfatheranyway.Hecouldusethelionhunter’sbravery.HeledBethanieacrossthestreetandopenedthedoorofMadameRenauld’s.Alargemanstoodnearby.Hegavethetwoalookthenwentbacktoscowlingattheshopingeneral.ChibalehadseenMadameRenauld’sbullyboysbefore.Theywereemployedtokeepthievesandruffiansaway.Chibalehadreadinthepapersofgroupsofboyswhoswarmedshopsand,whilethedressmakerstriedtoshoothemout,grabbedhandfulsofthefinefabricsondisplay.Butjustasthebullyboy—er,bullyman—movedaway,Chibalewasstartledbyaflutteringoffeathers.Alarge,brightlycoloredbirdlookeddownathimfromaperch.Thebirdcockeditsredheadandsaid,“Wouldyouliketoseethefinelace?Finelace!”
Bethaniesmiledandclapped.“Oh,Iforgotaboutthebeautifulparrot!”
Chibalecouldhaveswornthebirdpreened.“Hello!”itsaid.
“Whatisyourname?”Bethanieasked.
“Whatisyourname?”thebirdrepeated.
“Bethanie,”shereplied.
“Finelace!”thebirdsaid.
BethanielookedatChibale.“DoyouthinkhisnameisFineLace?”
“HernameisBleuette,”aprettywomanwithlightbrownskinsaid,comingforward.“Andshewilltalktoyouallday,MissOkoro.”
“Howextraordinary!”Bethaniesaid
Chibalefoundtalkingbirdsmoredisconcertingthanextraordinary.
“Sheis,”MissPhaedraagreed.“Youarerightontime.Andhellotoyou,Mr.Okoro.”
Chibalenodded.“MissPhaedra,goodtoseeyouagain.Mysisterisheretoseeherdress.Isitready?”
“Ofcourse!MadameRenauldisupstairsmakingthefinalalterationsaswespeak.Iwilltakeyoutothedressingroom.Andyou,Mr.Okoro,wehaveaprivateparlorwhereyoumaywait.”Thebellabovethedoortinkledasawell-dressedwomanentered,andMissPhaedraturnedandsignaledtoanotherwoman,whocameoutandgreetedthelady.ButnotbeforeBleuetteaskedifthewomanwouldliketoseethefinelace.
“Thisway,please.”
ChibaleandBethaniefollowedMissPhaedraupanenclosedwindingflightofstairstothefirstflooroftheshop.Thegroundfloorwascleanbutabitclutteredwithgoodstotempttheshop’scustomers.Buttheparlorhewasledintowasquietanddimwithnosignofclutter.Ortalkingbirds.Theroomwascoolanddark,theheavydraperiespulledalmostallthewayclosed.Acouchhadbeenpositionedbehindaraisedplatformandwasflankedbyagroupingofchairs.Inthebackwasatableandadoortoadressingarea.
Chibale’sbreathcaughtinhisthroatashefinallyspottedMadameRenauld.Shestoodbythetablewithasmallsmileonherface.“MeesOkoro,”shesaid,comingforward.ShehadtheloveliestFrenchaccentChibalehadeverheard.Whenhespoke,thesoundsofLondonpunctuatedeveryword.Whenshespoke,hecouldalmostseetheSeineandthestained-glasswindowsofNotreDame.“Wehaveanxiouslyawaitedyourarrival.Theesdresseesamasterpiece,ifIdosaysomyself.Iknowyouwillbepleased.”
Bethanieclaspedherhandsandbeamed.Chibalefeltalmostguilty.Hehadn’tthoughthowmuchpleasuresuchafinedresswouldbringhissister.Hehadonlybeenlookingforanexcusetoseethemodiste.Hemadetofollowhissistertowardtheroombehindthetable,butMadameRenauldraisedahand.
“Monsieurwillwaitinhere.”Andwiththat,shefollowedBethanieintothedressingroomandclosedthedoor.
“Wouldyoulikecoffeeortea?”ablondwomanasked.Chibalehadnotevennoticedher.
“No,thankyou,”hesaid.
“Somethingstrongerthen?”ShegesturedtoseveralcrystaldecantersChibaleassumedheldbrandyandsherryandsuch.Hecouldhaveusedliquidcouragerightnow,buthedeclinedtheoffer.Thentheblondtoowentthroughthedoor,andhewasleftalone.Hedidnotknowhowlonghepacedtheroom.Itwasprobablytenminutes,nomore,butwhenthedooropenedagain,heturnedeagerly,expectingtoseehissister.Instead,MadameRenauldemerged.
Sheworeagownindeepburgundy.Thewaistwashigh,aswasthecurrentstyle,andthoughsheworeafichuatherbosom,itwassheeranddidlittletohidetheplumpnessofherbreastsabovethenecklineofthedress.Thegownhadlong,tightsleevesandthreadsofgoldrunningthroughit,makingthewearerseemtoshimmerwhenshewalked,especiallyinthecandlelightoftheparlor.Withoutsayingaword,MadameRenauldwenttooneofthedecanters,pouredamberliquidintoit,andcrossedtohim
Herhairwassweptintoanelegantchignon,andtheupsweephighlightedthestrongcheekbonesinherfaceandherdarkeyes,framedbylong,thickeyelashes.Shehadagenerousmouthwithlipsabittooredtobenatural,andChibalelikedtoimaginekissingthatmouthuntilthepainthadbeenrubbedawaysohecouldwatchasshereappliedit.
Sheheldtheglasstohim,andhetookitanddrank.Hewassuddenlyverythirsty.
“MeesOkoroeestrèsbelle,”shesaid.
“Whatdoesthatmean?”heasked,stupidly.Atleasthefeltstupid.Allofthattimespentgatheringhiscourage,andthiswasthefirstthinghesaid?HeknewabitofFrench,butnowshewouldthinkhimignorant.
“Youwillseeforyourself,monsieur.”Shemovedawayfromhim,trailingalong,elegantfingeralongthebackofthecouch.“Thedresseesalittlelong.Phaedraismakingtheadjustmentstothehem,andthenvoilà.Thereveal.”Shegesturedtotheraisedplatform.
“Willwehavetoreturn?”Chibalesaid,hopefully.Perhapshewouldhaveanotherchancetomakeabetterimpression.
“No.”MadameRenaudwavedherhand.“Thehemeesasmallthing.Wealwaysleaveitunfinishedforadjustments.MygirlBetsycanfinishitlikethat.”Shesnappedtoillustrate.
Chibalesethisemptyglassonatableandremovedhishat,crushingitinhishandsashedrewonthecourageofallhisancestors.“Madame,haveyougivenanythoughttotheproposalImadewhenwelastspoke?”
Shesmiledathim.“Ah.Iwaswonderingifyouwouldmentiontheesmatteragain.”
“Soyouhaveconsideredit.”Chibalefeltlightheaded.Hedidnotknowifheshouldhopeorpreparefordespair.
Sheinclinedherhead.“Asabusinesswoman,Icarefullyconsidereveryproposal.IhavenotbeeninLondonforverylong.Noteventwoyears.”
ThoughChibaleknewthis,hewasstillsurprised.ShehadmadeanameforherselfinParis,andwhenshearrivedinLondon,herreputationhadprecededher.Evenso,Londonhaditsownmodistesandwomenwerenotoriouslyloyaltotheirdressmakers.Justasmanymenweredevotedtotheirtailors,himselfincluded.ButMadameRenauldhaddoneverywellforherselfinsuchashorttime.Shedressedthewivesandmistressesofsomeofthemostimportantpeopleinthecountry,ifnottheworld.
“AndyetIhaveheardoftheNegroMerchant’sGuild.Iwouldliketoknowmore.”
“Itwouldbemyhonortoescortyoutotheball,”Chibalesaid.
MadameRenauldgesturedtothedressingroomdoor,wherethemurmurofwomen’svoicescouldstillbeheard.“Andwhatofyoursister?Willyouleaveherwithoutanescort?”
“Myparentswillbeinattendance.MissOkorowillnotbewithoutachaperone.”
MadameRenauldpercheddaintilyonthearmofthecouch.Shewasasmallwoman,butsheseemedtopossessenoughauthorityfortwowomen.Andyet,everymovementshemadewastheheightofgraceandelegance.
“Theniteesyourparentswhoaremembersoftheesguild,oui?”
“Yes.”
“Youarenotamember?”
Chibalerelaxedhisgriponhishat.“No.Iamnotamerchant,Madame.”
“No,youarenot.Youarea…”Shemadeapunchingmotion.
“Iamnotapugilist,Madame.Iamabusinessman.Iarrangetheboxingmatchesformyclient,Mr.Payne.”
“HeeestheonewholosttotheGermanlastnight?”
Chibaledroppedhishatthenfumbledtoscoopitup.“Y-youheardofthat?”
MadameRenauldlookedatthedressingroomdoor.“MyseamstressPhaedratalksoftheespugilistswhenshethinksIdonotoverhear.ShehasanaffectionfortheonecalledThePlague—no,thatisnotright.TheBlackDeath?”
Chibalemadeaface.
“Iseeyouknowtheesman.”
“Iwashismanager—verybriefly—severalyearsago.MissPhaedrawoulddobettertofindanothermanmoredeservingofheraffections.”
Madame’seyesopenedwider.“Youwillhavetotellmemore.”
ThedressingroomdooropenedandPhaedraherselfpeekedout.“Madame,weareready.”
“Andsoarewe!”MadameRenauldsaid.“Bringherout,mesfilles.”
ShemovedtothesidetostandnearChibale.Hecaughtherscent,amixtureoforangesandcloves.Bethaniecamethroughthedoor,hersmilewidebuthereyesonChibale,asthoughshewasstillnotquitecertainaboutherappearance.ChibalewasconsciousofMadameRenauld’sgazeonhimaswell,andhesmiledbroadlyathissister.Whensheclimbedontheplatformandturnedaroundforhim,heclapped.
Sheworeacream-coloredgownwithawideneckthatdippedlowbutnotsolowthatChibalefelthehadtoaverthiseyes.ThesleevesweresheerandwhiteandflutteredprettilyonBethanie’sarms.Pearlsadornedthebodiceofthegownandwereplacedinalatticepatternontheskirt,givingthedressasortofetherealfeeling.
“Shewillputpearlsinherhair,”MadameRenauldsaidquietly,“andtheeffectwillbestunning.”
Yes,Chibalecouldimagineit.Bethanie’sdarkhairwouldcontrastwiththegleamingpearls,andshewouldshineinthecandlelight.
“YoulookmorebeautifulthanIhaveeverseenyou,”Chibalesaidtohissister,whoseemedtorelaxabitathiscompliment.
“Doyoulikeit?”Bethanieasked,turningtolookatherselfinthemirror,thoughshemusthavelookedatherselfforthelasttenminutes.
“Itisyouropinionthatmatters,”Chibalesaid.“Doyoulikeit?”
“Ido,”Bethaniesaid.“Iadoreit.”
“Thenitisyours,”Chibalesaid,smiling.Hewasgenuinelypleasedwiththedressandmoresowithhissister’spleasure.HeglancedatMadameRenauldandfoundherwatchinghimwithacuriousexpressiononherface.Shelookedawayandglidedtotheplatform.Madameinspectedthegown,fluffingtheskirtsandensuringeachpearlwassecurelyattached.Finally,shedeclaredittrèsmagnifique,andBethaniewaswhiskedbacktothedressingroom.
MadameRenauldgesturedtotheexitandledChibalebackdownthestairstotheshowroom.“Wewillbringherdownwhensheeesdressedagain.”Sheapproachedthecounterandgesturedfortheclerktogiveheraquillandanivorycard.“Writetheaddresshere,andwewillsendoneofourboystodeliverthedresstheesevening.”Sheloweredhervoice.“Andyoumaysendhimbackwithanotetellingmethedayandtimeyouwillcollectmeforthemerchant’swinterball.Itrustyouhaveacarriage?”
“Ofcourse,”Chibalelied.
MadameRenauldgaveaslightcurtsy.“Goodday,Mr.Okoro.”
“Goodday,MadameRenauld.”Hewatchedherglidethroughtheroomandbacktothestairsandthenturnedhisattentiontothecard,havingnomemorywhatsoeverofwhathewassupposedtodowithit.
***
MODESTYTRIEDTOTHINKofexcusesallthewayhome.Sheknewassoonasshewalkedintothehouseherfatherwouldwanttoknowwhyshehadbeenawayforsolong.Sheimaginedhowdistraughthemustbe.Hewasprobablypacing,unabletoconcentrateonwritinghissermon.Whatreasoncouldshegiveforcausinghimsuchanguish?Asshehurriedbackhome,sheshiveredwiththecold.Herhandswerenumbandherill-fittingshoesmadeherfeethurt.Tearssprangtohereyesnotonlybecauseshewascoldandhungry,butbecauseshefeltwretchedformakingherfatherworry.
Shedidnotoftendisappointhim,butwhenshedid,shefeltmiserablefordays.Once,whenshewaseightornineandhadtransgressedinsomeway,herfathersaidheneedn’tpunishherbecauseshepunishedherselfmorethanheevercould.Modestywasalreadypunishingherselfwithmentalflagellation.Thenextweekshewoulddoextrachoresandprayanextrahouraday.Thiswasinadditiontowhateverpunishmentherfatherwouldgiveher.
Modestyopenedthedoortotheirhome,headdown,apologiesonherlips,andwasgreetedwithsilence.Notonlywasthehousesilent,itwasdark.Thegroundfloorconsistedofasittinganddiningareawithasmallkitcheninthebackandasmallroomherfatherusedasastudy.Modestycouldcrosstheentireroomintensteps.Sheknewalmostimmediatelyuponenteringthehousewasempty.Thecurtainshadbeendrawnandthelampsextinguished.
“Father?”shecalled,thinkinghermightbeclosedoffinhisstudy.
Hedidnotanswer.
“Father,I’mhome.”Shemovedcautiouslytowardthetablewhereshekeptthetinderbox,litacandle,andstartedtowardthestudy.Butshedidnottakeastepbeforesheinhaledsharplyandstared.Theroomwasinshambles.Noonewhodidnotknowtheusualstateoftheroomwouldthinkitinshambles.Buttohereye,theroomlookedasthoughithadbeenransacked.Achairwaspushedawayfromthetablewheresheandherfatherhadbrokentheirfastinsteadofpushedin.Ateacupstoodhalffullonthetableratherthaninthesink.Thecandlestickshadbeenallowedtoburndowntothenubs,andshecouldstillsmellthescentoftallowintheair.WhenModestyfinallydraggedhereyesfromthedestruction,shesawthedoortoherfather’sstudywasopen.“Father!”shecalled,nowmoreworriedforhimthanforanypunishmentshemightreceive.Shestartedacrosstheroom,steppingoveratablethatwasagoodtwoinchesoutofplace,andpeeringintothestudy.Ittoowasempty.Herfatherhadaboutadozenpreciousbooksandtwoofthemhadnotbeenreplacedontheshelfandlaywilly-nillyonthedesk.Onelayopen.
Modestygaspedwithhorrorasherfatherwasalwaysverycarefulandprotectiveofhisbooks.Theyweretheonlythingofvalueheowned.Shehurriedtopickupthetwobooksonthedeskandrestorethemtotheshelfwheretheybelonged.Itwasonlywhenshe’drightedthebookthatshehadtheterriblethought:ifherfather’sbookshadbeensobadlymistreated,whathadhappenedtoherfather?
Shesearchedtherestofthehouse,includinghersmallbedchamberandhisonthefirstfloor.Theywereemptyaswell.Modestyshookwithfearandbewildermentnow,butsheforcedherselftositonherbedandsetthecandleonhernightstandsoasnottodropit.Herhandswereshakingsoviolentlythatthelightjerkedwildlyandmadeeerieshapesonthewall.
Herroomhadnotbeendisturbed.Thenormallycloseddoorhadbeenopen,butherfewpossessionshadbeenundisturbed.Thisdidnotsurpriseher.Afterall,whowouldwantherotherblackdressandblackbonnethangingonpegsonthewallorthewhiteunderthingsshekeptinasmalltrunk?Shehadopenedthetrunktobecertainandsawhermother’shairbrush,allModestyhadleftofhermother,stillrestedontopofherchemiseasshe’dleftitthereafterbrushingherhairthismorning.
Modestyhadn’tsearchedherfather’sroom.Sheneverentereditunlessshewastosweepandpolishandeventhenshekepthereyesdown,butfromthedoorway,italsolookedundisturbed.Hisnarrowbedwastidy,andhisotherblackcoathungonapeg.
Modestycouldn’tsayhowlongshesatonherbed,willingherhandstostopshaking.Itseemedhoursbeforeshecouldtakeabreathandthinkclearlyenoughtoknowwhatsheshoulddo.ShewouldgotoMr.Pliney’shouse.Hewasoneofthechurchelders,andhewouldknowwhattodo.
Modestywentbackdownstairsandsteppedoutside,surprisedtoseeitwasstilllightoutdoors.Ithadseemedlikehoursandhourshadpassed,anditmustbenightbynow.ShewalkedthetenminutesittooktoreachMr.Pliney’shomeandwasgreetedbyhiswife,whotookonelookather,droppedthehemoftheapronshe’dbeenwipingherhandson,andtookModestyinherarms.Modestypromptlyburstintotearsandattemptedtotellherstorybetweensobsandhiccups.
***
MR.PLINEYENLISTEDtheaidofsomeoftheothereldersofthechurch,andtheyinvestigatedanddiscussedbuthadnomoreanswersthanModestyherself.
ModestystayedwiththePlineysuntilSunday.Inhermind,Sundaywasthedayherfatherwouldreturn.HehadtoreturnashenevermissedgivinghissermononSundays.ButwhensheandthePlineysarrivedatthechurchSundaymorning,herfatherwasnotthere.Nordidhemakeanappearanceasthesmallcongregationprayedandsanghymns.Andwhentheservicewasover,Modestyknewonethingforcertain:somethingverybadhadhappenedtoherfather.Hewouldneverhavemissedchurchifthedecisionhadbeenhisown.
WhenshereturnedhomewiththePlineys,Mr.andMrs.Plineypulledheraside.
“Theeldershavemadeinquiriesandsearchedforyourfather,”Mr.Plineysaid,“butthereseemstobenotraceofhim.Noonesawhimleavethatday,andnoonehasseenhimsince.”
“Youknowwehaveenjoyedhavingyouhere.Weloveyoulikeoneofourown,”Mrs.Plineysaid,stillpattingModesty’shand.“Butthehouseistoosmalland,well,it’sbeenastruggletofindenoughmoneytofeedevenonemoremouth.Notthatyoueatmuch!”Mrs.Plineywavedherhandsasthoughrefusinganoffer.“You’reabird,but,well,Mr.PlineyandIthoughtitmightbebetterforyoutostaywithfamily.Istheresomeonewecanwritetoorsendfor?”
“Doyouhaveanauntoruncle?Cousins?Perhapsyourmother’speople?”Mr.Plineysuggested.
Modestyknewverylittleabouthermother’speople,asMr.Plineycalledthem.Herfatherhadabrother,buthehademigratedtoCanadawhenModestyhadbeenjustalittlegirl.Herfather’sparentsweredead,aswerehermother’s,but…
“Mymotherhasasister,”Modestysaid.“Ionlyeversawheronce.ShecametothedoorwhenIwasveryyoung,andIonlycaughtaglimpseofher.”Modestydidnotaddthatshehadbeenhidingbehindhermother’sskirts.Heraunthadseemedverytallandverygrand.She’dhadalargebirdplumeonherhat,andModestyhadstaredupatit.She’dalsohadaloud,sharpvoice,andthoughModestydidnotrememberwhatshe’dsaid,whateverithadbeenhadupsethermother.CatherineBrownhadrarelyspokeninanythingotherthanmildtones,butshehadraisedhervoicethatday.She’dsaid,“Areyouquitefinished,Augusta?Yes?Thengohome.”She’dslammedthedoor,whichhadmadeModestyjump.
HerAuntAugustahadnotreturnedandwhenModesty’sfatherarrivedthatafternoon,hermotherdidnotspeakofit.
“IssheinLondon?”Mrs.Plineyasked.
Modestywasn’tcertain,butsaid,“Yes.I’veseenherinLondon,”whichwastrue,evenifithadbeenfifteenormoreyearsago.Shenowunderstoodwhatthiswas—thePlineyswantedhergone—andModestywasmortifiedthatshehadstayedaslongasshehad.Thiswasn’therfamily,andshewasaburdentothem.TheywouldcontinuetoallowhertostayoutofChristiancharity,buttheydidnotwanther.AndModestycouldnotimaginestayinganothermomentunderaroofwhereshewasnotwanted.Hermotherhadalwayssaidtomakeyourselfusefulorgetoutoftheway.
Modestyhadtriedtomakeherselfuseful,butthetruthwasthePlineyshadplentyofdaughterstocook,clean,andsew.Modestywasjustanextramouthtofeed.Ifshehadbeenaman,shemighthavefoundajobandearnedmoney.Shecouldstillfindajobinafactoryorashop,andthenshecouldpaythePlineysforhermeals.Butthefactwastheywerenotherfamily,andshewasnotachildwhohadnowhereelsetogo.Shehadahouseandanaunt.Sheevenhadafather…somewhere.
Modestysatstraightandtriedtolookhopeful.“Iamsopleasedyouhavementionedher.Iwasthinkingofseekingheroutmyself.”
Mrs.Plineysqueezedherhand.“Wereyou?”
Shehadjustnowthoughtofit.“Yes.Infact,Iwouldgofirstthingtomorrow.WouldyoumindifIstayedonemorenight?”HerbedwasinfinitelypreferabletothehardfloorofthePlineys’girls’room,butshejustcouldn’tgobackhome.Notyet.Itwouldbetooemptywithoutherfather,tooupsettingtowonderwhatcouldhavehappenedtohim.
“Ofcourse.”Mrs.Plineypattedherhandagain,andModestytriedtosmileratherthancry.
***
THENEXTMORNINGSHEwashedherfaceandhandsandsetout.Shedeclinedtobreakherfast,sayingshewascertainherauntwouldhaveplenty.Intruth,shedidnotwanttotakeanymorefromthePlineys,whohadbeensogeneroustowardher.
ShemadeherwaytowardMayfairandwhenshereachedSt.James’sPark,shesatonabenchandrested.Theparkwasemptyandthegroundsstretchedoutbeforeher,lightlyfrostedandsparklinginthemorninglight.Shehadnoideawhereherauntmightlive.Shedidnotevenknowhowtoinquireafterher.Modesty’smother’smaidennamehadbeenRyan,butifheraunthadmarried,woulditdoModestyanygoodtoinquireafteranAugustaRyan?
Plus,itwasthemiddleofwinter,afactmadeabundantlyclearassheshiveredonthefrozenparkbench.Modesty’smother’sfamilyhadbeenwealthy.ModestyhadpiecedthistogetherafterhearingherfathermakecommentsabouthowCatherineRyan’sparentshadn’tapprovedofhermarryingapennilessminister.Didn’twealthypeoplegotothecountryduringthewintermonthsto…dowhateverpeopleinthecountrydid?
ModestyhadonlyevertraveledoutsideofLondononce.InsideofLondon,shetendedtostayclosetohome.ShehadrarelybeentoMayfairasthewealthydidnotlookkindlyuponpeoplewhocalledouttheirvicesonthestreet,andherfatherhadbeenhauledawaybybullyboysorfootmenandtossedonhisearonetimetoomanytobringModestythere
Modestysupposedtherewasnothingtodobutgohome.Shedidnotknowhowtofindheraunt.Shedidnotknowhowtofindherfather.Shedidnotknowhowshewouldaffordtopayforthehouseormealsoranyoftheotherthingssheneeded.Shecouldgotothechurchforcharity,buthowcouldshestandtheshameofit?Attheservicesyesterdaymorning,shehadknownpeoplewerelookingatherandwhisperingabouther.Sheknewwhatshewouldhavethoughtifshe’dbeenintheirshoes.Shewouldhaveassumedherfatherhaddonesomethingawfulandrunawaybeforehecouldbediscovered.Thatorheowedmoneytosomeoneandthecollectorhadcarriedhimoffforpunishment.
ButModestyknewherfather.Hedidn’toweanyonemoney.Hecouldn’thavedoneanythingawful.Hedidn’thavesecretsfromher.
Except…whyhadhesenthertoMrs.Kydd’sthemorningofhisdisappearance?Whowasthemanhe’dmetwiththenightbefore?
Modestystoodandpacedtokeepwarm.Herheadachedfromthecoldandfromhunger.Shecouldn’tgobacktothePlineys.Shecouldn’tgohome.Shedidn’tknowwhereherauntlived,andshedidn’tknowanyoneofheraunt’sstationshecouldask.
Ordidshe?
ModestystoppedpacingandthoughtofthedayshehadvisitedMrs.Kydd.Afterwardshehadstoppedintotheboxingclub.Shehadn’tbelongedthere,notjustbecauseshewasawomanbutbecausethemenwhopaidtoattendtheclubweregentlemen.Ofcourse,shehadbeentaughttobelieveallmenwereequalintheeyesoftheLord,butshewaswellawaretheupperclassesdidnotsharethatsentiment.
TheRoyalPaynewasfromtheupperclasses.Perhapshewouldhelpherorwouldasksomeofthegentlemenfromtheclubaboutheraunt.
ShehadnotthoughtofMr.Payneindays.She’dbeentoopreoccupiedwithworryaboutherfather,butnowthatshedidthinkofhim,herfacefeltwarmandherheartspedup.Shewantedtoseehimagain.Herfatherwouldnothavelikedit.Hewouldnothavelikedhergoingtotheboxingclub.ButperhapsshehadfoundMostyn’sbecauseGodknewshewouldneedtogobackagainlater.Godalwayshadaplan,andevenamanlikeMr.Paynecouldbepartofit.
Modestyreallyhadnootheroptionsatthispoint,soshestraightenedherhatandstartedforPallMall.ItwasstilltooearlyforMostyn’stobeopen,butshecouldstandoutsideandwait.Surelyitwouldn’tbelong.Ignoringthegnawinginherbellyandthethrobbingofherhead,Modestybegantowalk.Four
Rowdenwoketothesoundofpounding.Hepulledthepillowoverhisheadandpressedittightoverhisears.Heclosedhiseyesandtriedtogobacktosleep,butthepoundingcontinued.
AfteramomentheheardthedoorofhisbedchamberopenandtheploddingstepsofhismanservantTrogdon.“Someoneisatthedoor,sir.”
Rowdenscowledunderthepillow.“Makewhoeveritisgoaway.That’swhatIpayyoufor.”
“Yes,sir,”Trogdonsaid.Heshuffledaway.RowdenclosedhiseyesandwasalmostasleepagainwhenTrogdonshookhim.“Hewon’tgoaway,sir.”
Rowdenthrewthepillow.“IfIhaveto—”Rowdensquinted.“Burr?”HeglaredatTrogdon.“Whatishedoinginmyrooms?”
“Ilethimin,sir.”
“Ofcourse,youdid,”Rowdenmuttered.
“Wehaveabitofasituation,Payne,”Burrsaid.
RowdensnappedhisfingersatTrogdon,whogavehimaconfusedtiltofhishead.“Mydressinggown,Trogdon.”
Trogdonlookedabout,clearlyunsurewherethegarmentmightbe.Withasigh,Rowdenlifteditfromthefootofthebedhimselfanddonnedit.“Whatsortofsituation?”heaskedasthelastvestigesofsleepfledandhisheadcleared.
“IfoundthatgirlcurledupinfrontofMostyn’sdoor.Shewasshiveringanddidn’twakewhenIshookher,”Burrsaid,rubbinghisbaldhead.
“Whatgirl?”Rowdenasked.TherewereanynumberoforphanedchildrenlivingonthestreetsofLondon,thoughRowdencouldn’trememberanysleepinginthedoorwayofMostyn’s.Theytendedtoseekoutplaceswithfoodforobviousreasons.
“Thegirlwhocamelastweek.Theoneinblack,”Burrsaid.
Rowdenstilled.“MissBrown?”
“No,shewaswearingblack.”
Rowdenshookhishead.“Whereisshenow?Stillinthedoorway?”
“Ibroughtherhere,”Burrsaid.“Ilaidheronyourcouch.”
RowdengaveTrogdonasharplook.“Isthereawomanlyingonmycouch,Trogdon?”
“Yes,sir.
“Andwhydidyounotmentionthisbefore?”Rowdenasked,pushingpasthismanservantandBurrtopassthroughthebedchamberdoor.
“Youdidn’task,sir.”
RowdenwouldhavethrottledTrogdon,buthespottedthesmallblackformonhiscouch.Shewasn’tmoving.
Rowdencursedunderhisbreath.Hewasamanwhowenttogreatlengthstoavoidanysortofseriousresponsibilitytowardothers.He’dhadenoughofthatinthewarand…before.Thelastthinghewantedwasresponsibilityforawomanlyingunconsciousonhiscouch.Andyet,whatwashesupposedtodo?Putheroutinthecold?Hecursedagain.
Rowdencrossedtheroomandkneltbesidethecouch.“Openthedrapesandlightalamp,Trogdon.”
Shewasturnedawayfromhim,andRowdentouchedhershoulder.Itfelticecold.
“Bringmeablanketandapotoftea,”heordered.“MissBrown?”Rowdensaid,pattinghershoulder.Shedidnotmove.Wherewastheblanket?RowdenlookeduptoseeTrogdonstandinginthemiddleoftheroom,unmoving.Hisfeetwerebareaswerehiscalves.Heworehisnightshirtandalongcapoverhisgoldencurls.Hescratchedatthosecurlsnow,clearlyconfused.
“Trogdon!”Rowdenbellowedandtheservantjumped.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Tryingtoremember,sir.Yougavemesomanyorders,Iforgotthefirstone.”
Rowdenblewoutabreath.“Gomakeapotoftea,Trogdon.That’sallyouneedtodo.Maketea.”
“Maketea,sir.”Herepeateditunderhisbreathashemovedaway.
“Whatareyouplanningtodowithher?”Burrasked.
Rowdenbentandscoopedherintohisarms.“RightnowIneedtowarmherup.Watchout.”HecarriedherpastBurrandintohisbedchamber.Sheweighedpracticallynothing,thoughhecouldfeelshewasn’tskinandbones.Thatatleastwasarelief.Shewasundoubtedlycoldbuthopefullyhadn’tbeenoutonthestreetsandstarving.Hesetheronhisbed,pulledtheblanketsupandaroundher,thenstrodetothehearthandstokedthefire.Whenitbegantocrackle,hereturnedtothebedandlookeddownather.Herfacelookedverysmallunderthelargebrimoftheblackhat.Itcouldn’tbecomfortabletoliewiththathaton,sohereachedunderherchinandtuggedtheribbonsloose.Gentlyliftingherhead,heremovedthehatandsteppedbackinsurprise.
Sheworeaplainwhitecapunderthehat,butitcouldn’tdisguisethedeepauburnhairatthecrownofherhead.Nowonderherskinwassopale.Shewasaredhead.Hewouldn’thavethoughtit.
“You’dbetternotbethinkingoftakinganythingelseoff,”Burrsaid,hisvoicecloser.RowdenlookedoverhisshoulderatBurr,whowasrightbehindhimnow.
“AreyouconcernedIplantotakeadvantageofher?”
“Youputherinyourbedandstartedundressingher.”
“Iputherinmybedtowarmherandremovedahat.Youwillberelievedtoknowthat’sasfarasmyintentionsgo.”Rowdenmovedawayfromherandcheckedonthefireagain.Itwasblazingnow,fartoowarmforRowden’scomfort,butheaddedmorecoalnonetheless.“Whydidyoubringherhere?”Hisvoiceheldanoteofaccusation,andhedidn’ttrytodisguiseit.
“Don’tknow,”Burrsaid,movingtostandattheheadofRowden’sbed,almostasthoughhewereMissBrown’sprotector.“Ididn’tknowwhatelsetodowithher.”
Anythingelsebutbringherhere.
“Hereweare,”Trogdonsaid,enteringwithablanketoverhisarm.He’ddressedandcombedhishair.Hiscravatwasperfectlytied,hisgoldencurlsexpertlytousled.HeofferedtheblanketandwhenRowdendidn’ttakeit,henoddedatit.“Yousaidtofetchablanket,sir.”
“Trogdon,doyouseeMissBrown?”Rowdensaid,hisvoicelowanddeceptivelycalm.
Trogdonlookedatthebed.“IsthatwomanMissBrown?”
Rowdennodded.
“Thenyes,sir,Iseeher.”
“Doyounoticeanythingabouther,Trogdon?Forexample,doyounoticewhatisontopofher?”
“Blankets,sir?”
“Right.WhichiswhyIaskedyoutofetchtea.Ihaveblankets.Idonothavetea.”
“Idistinctlyrememberyouaskingforablanket.”
Rowdenmadealowsoundinthebackofhisthroat,andTrogdonbackedaway.“Ifyouwanttea,Iwillmakeitnow.”
“Thankyou,Trogdon,”Rowdensaidbetweenclenchedteeth.Withexaggeratedcare,Trogdonsettheblanketonachairinthecornerandturnedtoleavethebedchamber.Rowdencouldhaveswornheheardhimmutteringabouthowsomepeoplewereneverhappy.
“Seemshehasapartmentstolet,”Burrsaid,tappinghishead.
“Yes,he’snotthebrightestlampinthelarder.Iwouldlethimgo,butwhoelsewouldhirehim?”
Andthatwaspreciselytheproblemwithresponsibility.Rowdendidnotneedanyoneelserelyingonhim.
Rowdenwenttothewindowandpartedthecurtainsslightlytolookout.Itwasn’tthathecaredsomuchfortheview.HisroomsoverlookedSt.James’sStreet,andtherewasnotmuchtoseethismorning.Itwasmorethatheneededsomethingtolookatratherthanthewomanlyinginhisbed.Theweatheroutsidewascoldandgray.Thesunhadrisen,butthelightwasweak,andthecloudspromisedrainthatday.Itwasn’tcoldenoughforsnow—itrarelywasinLondon—butthatdidn’tmeanthetemperaturesweren’tfrigid,especiallyforawomaninathincoatandnogloves.Rowdenlookedbackatthesmallformunderhisbedclothes.Howlonghadshebeenoutinthecold?Hours?Days?Surelynotdays.Butjudgingbyhowcoldandpaleshe’dbeen,howeverlongshe’dbeenoutintheelementswastoolong.
Trogdonappearedinthedooragainthistimewithateatray.“ShallIsettheteaonthedresser,sir?”heasked,hisvoicetight.HisgazedidnotmeetRowden’s,anditwasobvioustheman’sfeelingshadbeenhurt.Rowdenwouldmakeamendslater.
“Yes,thedresser.”
Trogdonsetthetrayonthedresserandpouredacup,addinglemonasRowdenlikedit.
“It’snotforme,Trogdon,”Rowdensaid.“Seeifshewilltakesome.”
Trogdonstraightened.“Youwantmetoplaynursemaid?”
Rowdenfrowned.“You’vetendedmewhenIwassick.”
“Yes,butyouareaman.”Trogdonpointedaccusinglyatthebed.“Thatisawoman.”
“Womendrinkteathesameasmen.”
“ButIamamanservant,sir.Iservemen,notwomen.”
Rowdenopenedhismouthtoexplainthatwasnotwhatmanservantmeantbutdecideditwasnotworththeeffort.“Youmaygo,Trogdon.”
Trogdondidnotwasteamoment,movingtoexitmorequicklythanRowdenhadeverseenhim.Burrmadetofollow.“Whereareyougoing?”
Burrstopped,lookinglikeasmallchildcaughtinmischief.“MostynwillwonderwhereIam,”Burrsaid.
“Mostynisstillinbedwithhiswife.”
Burrshiftedbutstartedtowardthedooragain.“Hehasalessonintwohours.I’dbetterreadythestudio.”
“Readythestudio?Howlongdoesittaketoopenadoor?”RowdenfollowedBurrintothedrawingroom,butBurrwasalreadyclosingtheouterdoorbehindhim.
Rowdenlookedabout.Hehadawomanwhocameafewdaysaweekandcookedandcleaned,buthehadnoideaifshecametodayorwhattime.MissBrownneededattentionnow,andhesupposedtherewasnooneelsetodoit.Hereturnedtohisbedchamberandnotedshehadn’tmoved.Liftingtheteatray,hebroughtittohisbedandplaceditontheothersideofher.HeusedaspoontofishthelemonoutofthecupofteaTrogdonhadpreparedandthenheldthecupinonehandasheawkwardlyslidanarmbehindherheadwiththeother.
Theteahadcooledenoughthathecouldhavebroughtittoherlips.Instead,hewafteditbeneathhernoseasthoughitweresmellingsalts.Hehadnoideawhyhewasdoingthis.Itseemedratherstupiduntilsheflutteredhereyelashes.Rowden’sheartbeatfaster.Fearingshemightwakewithastart,hesettheteabackonthetray.“MissBrown,”hesaidquietly.“MissBrown,wakeup.”
Hereyesflutteredagain,opened,thenclosed.Thenopenedwideandstaredathim.ThelookofabjectterroronherfeaturesmadeRowdenwanttopullhercloseandassurehershewasinnodanger,butheratherthoughtthatwouldnotbehelpful—foreitherofthem.“You’resafe,”hesaid.“Iwon’tharmyou.”
Hergazestayedonhisfaceforalongmomentthensliddowntohisneckandlower.Rowdenlookeddownandrealizedhewasstillwearinghisdressinggown.TheopenneckrevealedaVofthebareskinofhischest.Hereleasedherandstood,pullingthedressinggownclosed.Shelookedaroundandthen,seemingtorealizewhereshewas,triedtojumpup.Shestumbledandalmostfell,andRowdenforgothisclothingandpushedherbackintobed.
“Notyet,MissBrown.Youneedtoeatsomethingfirst,Ithink.”
“WhyamIhere?Whatdoyouintend?”shedemanded.Becauseofcourseherpuritanicalmindjumpedtotheconclusionthathehadputherinhisbedtotakeadvantageofher.
“YouareherebecauseyouwerefoundunconsciousonthedoorstepofMostyn’s,andBurrdidn’tknowwhatelsetodowithyou.Ihadintendedtomakeyoudrinkteaandgiveyousomethingtoeatsoyoucouldregainyourstrength.ButnowthatIrealizeyouareinmybed,Iwillhavetoravishyou.”
Hereyeswidenedandshepulledthecoverstoherchin.
Rowdenblewoutabreath.“Iwasnotserious.”Asthoughhewouldhaveanywomanwhodidnotwanthim,especiallysomelittlechurchmousedressedheadtotoeinthedourestblack.
Although,shedidnotwearallblacknow.Inherstrugglesthemomentbefore,thewhitecapoverherhairhadcomeloose,ashadsomeofherhair.Theauburnwavesfellaroundherfaceandshoulders,andRowdencouldn’tdenythatshelookedrathertemptingwithherhairdown.He’dbeencarefulnottolookintohereyes,butheknewthecombinationofthathairandthoseeyeswouldturnanyman’shead.Heturnedhisbacktoher,walkedtothedoor,andcalledforTrogdontobringtoast.
Thenheleanedonthedoorframe,crossedhisarmsoverhischest,andnoddedattheteatray.“Drinksometea.Itwillwarmyou.”
“HowdoIknowyouhaven’tputspiritsinit?”sheasked,narrowinghereyes.
“WhywouldIputspiritsinteafirstthinginthemorning?Theonlythingthat’sbeenintheteaislemon.It’sonthesaucerthere.Youcanaddit,ifyoulike,orthere’scream.”
Sheglancedatthetraybutmadenomovetolifttheteacup.
“Goaheadandsniffitifyoudon’tbelieveme.You’dbeabletosmellthespirits.”
Sheseemedtoacceptthatideaandliftedthecupgingerly,sniffingit.Thenshetookasmallsipandswallowed.
“Yousee?Nospirits.”
Sheclosedhereyes,andRowdenmovedforward.“What’swrong?You’renotfeelinglightheadedagain,areyou?”
“No.”Shetookanothersip.“Ijusthaven’thadteathislovelysince…”
ToRowden’shorror,hereyesseemedtowellwithtears.Oh,hell.Hewasnotatallgoodwithtears.“Don’tstartcrying.”
Shesniffedand,panicked,Rowdenwenttothedooragain.“Trogdon!Toast!Now!”
“I’mfine,”shesaid,wipinghereyes.
Rowdengaveherasuspiciouslook,butsheseemedtobetellingthetruth.Shesippedmoretea,andhethoughtperhapssomecolorhadreturnedtohercheeks.ItseemedaneternitybeforeTrogdonfinallyappearedwiththetoast.Ratherthanenter,hehandedthetraytoRowdenandfledagain.Rowdenbroughtthetraytothebed,setitbesidetheteathenstoodatthefoot,onearmonabedpost.
“DoyouwanttotellmewhyyouweresleepingonMostyn’sdoorstep?”
Shetookapieceoftoastandnibbledatit.“Ididn’tknowwheretogo,”shesaid,glancingathimquicklyfromunderhereyelashes.
“Whynotsleepathome?”
“Ididn’tmeantofallasleep.Iwashungryandcold,andIjustclosedmyeyesforamoment.”
“Whichstilldoesnotexplainwhyyouwerenotathome.”
“Somethinghashappened,”shesaid
“Igatheredthat.”
Shedidn’tspeak,justnibbledhertoast.
“Idon’twanttobepresumptuous,butamIcorrectinassumingthereasonyouwereatMostyn’swastoseeme?”
“Yes.Iwashopingtoseeyou,”sheadmitted.Shesetdownthetoastandstraightenedhershoulders.“Ithoughtyoumightbeabletohelpme.Youdon’thaveanyreasonto,ofcourse.Idon’texpect—”
“I’llhelpyou,”hesaid.Anythingtogetheroutofhisbedandhisflat.Hehadfound,inthepast,thatshort-termresponsibilityusuallymeantavoidingitinthelong-term.
“Thankyou,”shesaid.“Iamlookingformyaunt,MissAugustaRyan.”
Rowdenwaitedforhertosaymore,butthatwasapparentlyit.“HowwouldIknowyouraunt?”
“Shemightbemarriednow.HersurnamemightnotbeRyan.IthoughtyoumightknowherbecauseIthinksheis—oratleast,sheseemedtometobe—oftheupperclasses.”
“AndyouthinkonthenightsI’mnothavingmyheadbashedinatatavern,I’mattendingballsatAlmack’s?”
“No,butthemenwhofrequenttheboxingstudioaregentlemen.Ithoughtyoumighthaveheardofherorknowsomething.”Sheshookherhead.“IseenowthatIwasnotthinkingclearly.IjusthavenoideawheretobeginifI’mtofindher.”
“Youcouldhiresomeone.”
Shelookeddown,andRowdenknewhe’dsaidthewrongthing.Ofcourse,shedidn’thaveanyblunttohiresomeone.
“Nevermind.Icanaskaround.I’msuresomeoneknowsofher,andIdohaveconnections.”
Shelookedupathim,andtearswereinhereyesagain.“Thankyou.”
“Nocrying.”Hepointedather.“Notears.”
Shenoddedandwipedathercheekswiththebackofherhand.Rowdenwenttoadrawer,pulledoutacleanhandkerchief,andhandedittoher.Shetookitwithawaterysmileanddabbedathereyes.“I’mfeelingabitbetternow,”shesaid.
“Good.Eatanotherpieceoftoast,andI’lltakeyouhome.”
Herexpressionfroze.Rowdensworeinhismind.“What’sthatlookabout?Whycan’tyougohome?”
Shepickedupthetoastandnibbledagain.“Icangohome.”
“Whythehesitation?AndgoodGod,justeatthetoastalready.Don’tnibbleatitlikeabird.”
Hereyesflashedathim,andheforgothewasnotsupposedtobelookingatthem.Wasthishowtheylookedwhenshewasangry?Almostgreenandbrilliantwithlight.Hercheekswereredaswell.Whatthehellhadhedonetoangerher?Tellhertoeat?
“Sir,ImustaskyounottotaketheLord’snameinvain.”
Hesquintedather.“Takethe…whenIsaidgoodGod?”
Shepointedafingerathim,andhealmosttookastepback.“Thatistwicenow.”
“Pointtaken.Noblasphemy.Nowdomeafavorandstopdissembling.SomethingmustbeverywrongifyouwereunconsciousonthedoorstepofMostyn’s.What’shappened?Whereisyourfather?”Thatseemedtounlockthevaultbecauseassoonashementionedherfather,sheslumpedasthoughshe’dbeenshot
Rowdenmovedaroundthebedandsatontheedge.“It’syourfatherthen.What’shappened?”Nowhewasmakingprogress.Getherbacktothefatherandbedonewithher.
“Idon’tknow,”shesaid,hervoicesoundingperilouslyclosetotears.Rowdenclenchedhisfistandremainedwherehewas.“ThatdayImetyouatMostyn’swasthelasttimeIsawhim.”
Rowdentriedtothinkbacktowhenhe’dseenherlast.IthadbeenthedayafterthefightwiththeGerman.Thatwasalmostaweekago.“Goon,”hesaid,resistingtheurgetoaskquestions.Itwasbettertolethertellitinherownway.
“HesentmetovisitMrs.Kydd.ShelivesonPallMall,andshehadmadeadonationtothechurch.Ibroughtherabasketwithourthanks,andonmywayback,IstoppedintospeakwithyouatMostyn’s.HowIwishI’dneverdonethat!IfIhadcomehomesooner.IfIhadnotdawdled…”
“Whatdidyoufindwhenyoureturnedhome?”Rowdenhadtoaskbecauseshewastearingupagain.
“Thehousewasempty.Notjustempty,”shesaid.“Itwasinshambles.”
“Andyou’vehadnowordfromhimsince?”
Sheshookherhead,usinghishandkerchieftocatchseveralroguetears.
“Nomessageshavecometothehouse?Hehasnotstoppedintochangehisclothingorgatherfunds?”
Shedroppedthehandkerchief.“Ididn’tthinkofthat.Perhapshehasbeenathome.Ineverthoughttocheck.”ShetossedbackthecoversnowandRowdenpreparedtocatchherifsheshouldstumble,butsheseemedsteadyenoughonherfeet.
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”heasked,watchingherwarily.
“Icouldn’tstayinthehousealone.IhavebeenwiththePlineys.Mr.Plineyisachurchelder.”
Shebrushedthewrinklesoutofheruglyblackdress.Rowdenwatchedher,thinkingthatevenintheawfulgown,shewasstillverypretty,especiallywithoutthathat.“Youhaven’tbeenhomethen?”heasked,anideaforming.“Youhaven’ttidiedthehouse?”
“Iputthebooksaway,”shesaid.“Icouldn’tleavethoselyingabout.”Shefrownedasshenoticedherhatonthefloor.Slowlyherhandwenttoherbareheadandthenshegasped.“Turnaround!”
Rowdenspunaround,expectingnothingshortofanassassinbehindhim.Whenhesawnothingbutthedoortohisdressingroom,heturnedback.“Whatthedevil—”
“Don’tusethatphrase!”shesaid.“Turnbackaround.”
Heturnedbackaround.“MayIaskwhyIamturnedaround?”
“Youdidn’ttellmeIhadlostmycapandhat.”
“Iremovedyourhatsoyoucouldliebackcomfortably,andyourcapfelloffofitsownaccord.”
“Youshouldhavetoldme!”
“Forgiveme,”hesaid,staringatthepaperonhiswalls.Hisgazetraveledtoatablewithawashbasinandpitcher.Amirrorhadbeenhungabovethebasin,andhecouldseeherfranticallypinninghercapbackinplace.“Iwasmoreconcernedwiththefactthatyouwerecoldandunconscious.Iwasn’tlookingatyourhair.”Notmuch,anyway.
“Good.Idon’t—Idon’tliketobewithoutmyhat,”shesaid.She’dpausedhermovementswhenshespoke,obviouslynotcertainhowtoexplainherdistress.
Whensheraisedherhandstotwistherhairup,thebodiceofhershapelessdressstretchedoverherbreasts.Hehadn’treallythoughtshehadbreastsoranysortofbodyunderthatsack.Heratherwishedhedidn’tknowshehadabodyunderthatsackasnowhewouldbethinkingaboutit.
Helookedbackatthewalls.“Ihaveanidea,”hesaid,changingthesubject.“Whydon’twereturntoyourhouseandlookforinformationaboutyourauntthere?Surelyyourmother—Ipresumeshehaspassed—hadaminiatureorlettersorsomethingwithyouraunt’sinformationonit.”
“Ihadn’tthoughtofthat,”shesaid.“Perhapsinmyfather’sroom.ButInevergointhere.Youmayturnbackaround.”
Hedid,disappointedtoseeherbackintheoversizedhatthatobscuredmostofherface.“Ithinkhewouldunderstandyoutrespassinginthiscase.Itseemstobeanemergency.”
Hergazehaddriftedfromhisfacedowntohisrobe,andherealizedtheneckhadopenedtorevealaswathofchestagain.“Myeyesarehere,”hesaid,teasing.Butsheturnedasredasacherryandbegantostammerapologies.Hewavedahand.“Itseemstometheplaceforustobegintofindyourauntanddiscernwhatmighthavehappenedtoyourfatherisyourhome.I’lldressandwecanbeonourway.”
“Youdon’tintendtodresswithmepresent?”shesaid,soundinghorrified.Rowdenknewhestillhadthevestigesofabruiseonhistemple,buthedidn’tthinkhewasthathideoustobehold.
“No.Ithoughtyoumighthaveanothercupofteaandmoretoastinthedrawingroom.Trogdon!”
Foroncethemanservantwasnearby.HeenteredimmediatelyandgaveasmallstartwhenhesawMissBrown.Rowdencouldhardlyblamehim.Shedidlookratherfrightfulinthatcostume.“Trogdon,willyoumovetheteatrayandtoasttothedrawingroomforMissBrownthenreturnandhelpmedress?”
“Ofcourse,sir.”TrogdongatheredthetrayandledMissBrownaway.Rowdenmovedtohisdeskandsnatchedapieceofparchment.He’dneedtopenaquicknotetoChibaleexplainingwhyhewouldbelatetoMostyn’s.Hismanagerhadsecuredhimanothermatchthefollowingevening,andRowdenreallyneededtopractice.Butitwouldhavetowait.HefeltannoyinglyprotectiveofMissModestyBrown.Shehadchosenherwordscarefully,butheunderstoodtheimplicationsofhersituationwellenough.
Shewasaloneintheworld.Nomother.Fathermissing.Relyingonthecharityoffriends.He’dseenwhathappenedtowomeninthatposition,andhedidn’tliketothinkofMissBrownbeggingonthecornerorraisingherskirtsinabackalley—notthathecouldimaginethat.She’dprobablyinsistonkeepingherhaton.
Hesmiledbrieflyattheimagethenshookitoffanddippedhisquillinink.
***
MODESTYSATPRIMLYonthecouchinMr.Payne’sdrawingroom.Assoonashismanservanthadreturnedtothebedchamberandclosedthedoor,shefinishedthetoastshe’dbeennibblingintwobitesandreachedforanotherpiece.Therewerefourtrianglesoftoastinall,andsheplannedtodevoureachone.Shedrankteainbetween,hergazedartingtothebedchamberdoorlestshebecaughteatinglikeastarvingdog.Butshewasstarving,andoncethetoastwasinherbelly,shesatbackandclosedhereyes,feelingtheworstofherheadachefadeslightly.
Shewasusedtomeagerprovisions,butshe’dnevergonehungryunderherfather’sroof.UnderthePlineys,she’dbeenslowlystarving.Itwasn’tthatthey’dintendedtostarveher,therejustwasn’tenoughforeveryone,andModestycouldseethechildrenwerehungry,sosheoftengavehalfofhersmallprovisiontooneofthem.
NowshedidnotevenhavethePlineys.Shewouldprobablyhavetogotothechurchandaskthemtofeedher.She’dfedthehungrymany,manytimes,butsheneverimaginedshewouldbeoneofthosewaitingintheline.
Modestyopenedhereyesandlookedaboutthedrawingroom.Thisoneroomwasalmostaslargeasherentiregroundfloor.Obviously,TheRoyalPaynewasn’talwaysbeingknockedoutbyopponents.Itappearedhedidquitewellforhimself.Sheranherhandovertheupholsteryonthechairwhereshesat.Itwasadarkpurple,softandvelvety.Hisbedhadbeensoftandthebedclothesthick.Shehadn’trealizedbedscouldbesolarge.Herswasshortandnarrow,themattresslumpyanduneven.Hersheetswerealwaysclean,butthematerialwasroughandscratchy.Sheshouldn’tbeconcernedaboutthesematerialthings.Theywerenotwhatmattered.Lifeonearthwasfleeting,butsomenightscertainlyfeltverylong…
Modestyturnedherheadtolookatmoreoftheroomandhergazelandedonabookshelfonthewallbehindher.Sheturnedmorefullyandstaredatwhatappearedtobetwofullfloor-to-ceilingtiersofshelvesfullofbooks.Withagasp,sheroseandwenttothewallofbooksandpeeredattheshelfateyelevel.Shereadthetitlesofthebooks,mostlypoetryvolumes,andmostlyauthorsshehadneverheardof.ThoughshedidrecognizethenameofLordByron.Oh,butshehadheardherfatherpreachagainsthiminchurch.Hewassaidtobequiteevil.
Modestylookedbehindherand,seeingnoonethere,pulledthevolumeofftheshelf.Herheartbeatfastandshetoldherselfsheshouldnotbelookingatthebook.ButshewantedtoseewhatwassoscandalousaboutLordByron.Sheopenedapageandhadtosteadyherhandssothepagewouldstopshaking.
Hersisthelovelinessindeath,
Thatpartsnotquitewithpartingbreath;
Butbeautywiththatfearfulbloom,
Thathuewhichhauntsittothetomb,
Expression’slastrecedingray,
AgildedHalohoveringrounddecay,
ThefarewellbeamofFeelingpastaway!
Modestystaredattheverse,thentookabreathandreaditagain.Theselovelywordscouldn’tbeevil.Theyseemedtopierceherheart,rightintohersoul.Theyseemedtobespeakingdirectlytoher,remindingherofthoseawfuldayswhenhermotherhaddiedandbeenlaidoutandtendedonthetableinthediningroom.
Thenightbeforethefuneral,whenhermotherwouldbelaidtorest,Modestyhadsneakeddownfromherbedchamber.She’dbeenalloffive,andshe’dstayedawakeuntilthehousehadgonequiet.Sheknewshewouldnotbeallowedtoattendthefuneral,andthiswasherlastchancetosaygood-byetohermotherinprivate.
She’dcarriedacandledownwithherandsetitonthetablebesidehermother’sbody,whichhadbeendressedinacleanblackgownandherbestpairofshoes.Modestyhadtakenhermother’scoldhandandlookedatherfaceforthelasttime.Herthoughts,thoughnotaspoeticasByron’s,hadbeensimilar.HermotherhadlookedsobeautifulindeaththatitwashardforModestytobelieveshereallywasgone.ShehalfexpectedhertoopenhereyesandsmileatModesty.Thedoctorwhohadcomeafewtimeswhilehermotherhadbeeninbedsaidhermother’sheartwasweak.Itdidnotbeatlikeeveryoneelse’sandithadfinallygivenout.ButModestydidn’tbelievethedoctor.Hermother’shearthadbeenfullerandstrongerthananyoneelsesheknew.
Andthoughshehadlookedpaleandhaggardinherlastdays,strugglingtobreatheorevensit,onthetableshehadlookedsomuchlikeModestyalwaysthoughtofher—serene,beautiful,and,inthelightofthecandle,haloed.
Shehadn’twantedthatbeautycoveredbydirtandputintheground.She’dwantedhermothertostaywithheralways.She’dbeenverynaughtythenextmorning,refusingtocomedownwhentheundertakerhadcometocollectthebodyandthemenhadleftforthefuneral.Modestypreferredtorememberhermotherasshehadbeenthatnight.
Modestyreplacedthevolumeandsteppedback.Whywouldherfathercallsuchlovelywordssinful?Thewordshadbeensecular,yes,buttheyweren’tevil.Ofcourse,herfathercalledmuchofwhathesawintheworldevil.Modestyalwaysverballyagreedwithhim,butsometimessheprivatelydisagreed.Wasaprostitutewhogaveherselftoamaninadarkalleywickedorwasshedoingwhatshemustinordertofeedherchildren?WasafighterlikeMr.Payneimmoral?Itwasdifficulttoseeamanwhopossessedabookofpoetryliketheoneshe’djustglancedatasevil.Shemightnotwanttohitanotherpersonformoney,buthadn’tJacobspentanightwrestlingwithGod?IfGodwasagainstpugilism,whyhadHeengagedinit?
Herfatherwouldhavehadananswer.Hewouldhaveexplainedthemeaningbehindthestory—howJacobwasnotsimplyphysicallywrestlingwithGodbutwrestlingmentallyaswell.HewaslearningthatonemustgiveupcontrolandgiveeverythingtoGod.Sowasitmerelyastorythen?Ifitwastrue,howcouldshefaultamanwhodidwhatGodhimselfhaddone?
ThedooropenedandMr.Paynesteppedout.Helookedaboutuntilhespottedherandthenheraisedabrow.“Youlooklikeyou’vebeendoingsomethingyoushouldn’t.”
“Iwassimplyadmiringyourlibrary.”
Heglancedupatit.“Someofthosecamewiththeflat,butIhaveaddedtoit.”Hestrodeintotheroom.“Youfinishedthetoast,Isee.”
Modestybarelyheardhim.Shecouldn’thelpbutstareathisattire.Thefewtimesshe’dseenhimbeforehehadbeendressedinformally—tooinformally,somewouldsay.Butthismorninghisdresscouldonlybedescribedastheheightoffashion.Heworefawn-coloredkneebreeches,withhighlypolishedblackboots,aberry-coloredwaistcoatwithdarkgreenvinesembroideredonit,awhiteneckcloth,andanavycoatthatfittightlyandemphasizedhisbroadshoulders.Hisshortblackhairwasartfullystyled,brushedrakishlytooneside.
Paynelookeddown.“What’swrong?”
Modestyshookherheadandsmiled,nottrustingherselftospeak.
Heofferedanarm.“Shallwe?”
Modestyhesitatedamomentthentookhisarm,feelingrathersilly.Afterall,shewasnotoneofthosedebutantessheoccasionallyglimpsedtraipsinginandoutofshopsandcarriageswiththeirwildcurlsandtheirplumedhats.Shemustlookridiculousonhisarm,butshedidn’treleaseit.
Onceonthestreet,Paynehailedahackney,andoncetheywereinside,heraisedhisbrowsatherexpectantly.Shegavehimtheaddress,andherelayedittothedriver.Thenhesatbackandpeeredoutthewindow.Modestyhadexpectedtobepepperedwithquestions,buthewasquietuntilfinallyhesatforward.“Istherestillapiecartonthecornernearthatoldfountain?Theonethatneverhasanywater?”
Sheknewthefountain.Ithadbeendryeversinceshecouldremember.“Iknowthefountain,andIdothinkthereisamanwithacartwhooftensellshispiesthere.”
“We’llstopandbuyone.”Helookedather.“Two.”
“I’mperfectlyfine,”sheprotested,thoughherbellygurgledattheideaofpierichwithsauceandpotatoes,carrots,andaflakycrust.
“Ican’tverywelleatifyoudonot,andIhaven’thadoneofthosepiesinyears.”
“YouknowBowlingSquare?”
“WhenIstartedasafighter,IusedtohavematchesintheRoseandThorn.”
Sheknewtheplace.Itwasatavernshe’dneverseentheinsideof,thoughshe’dpasseditpracticallyeverydayofherlife.
“Theearlymatchesarethenewerfighters,thosewhohaven’tmadeanameforthemselvesyet,sowhenIbeganIwouldoftenfinishamatchbeforethepieseller—whatishisname?Isaac?”
“IbelieveitisElias.”She’dalwayscalledhimMr.Eliaswhenshepassed.She’daskedforhissurname,buthetoldheritwasjustElias.She’dneverboughtoneofhispies.Shedidn’teverhaveanycointospare,buttheyalwayssmelleddivine.
“That’sright.”Hesnappedhisfingers.“Elias.Iwouldoftenbuyhislastthreeorfourpiesbeforeheleftfortheday.ThenIbecamebetterknownandmymatchesmovedlaterandtobettertaverns—notthatthere’sanythingwrongwiththeRoseandThorn—andIdidn’tseehimanymore.”Hesatback,awistfullookonhisface.“Imissthosedayssometimes.Icertainlymissthosepies.”
ModestyalwaysfeltslightlyillinacarriagebutlisteningtoMr.Paynespeakseemedtohelpwiththequeasiness.“Whatdoyoumissaboutthosedays?”
“Itwassimpler,”hesaid,lookingoutthewindowagain.Heappearedtobewatchingthepeopleonthestreets,butModestyimaginedhewasseeingtheinsideofatavernfromyearsago.“Twoofuswoulddecidetofightandwe’dstripdown,pushsometablesaside,andmenwouldplacebets.Ididn’tearnmuch,butitwasreal.”
“Anditisn’trealnow?”
Heshrugged.“It’sallshow.Thepamphletsplasteredtoeverywall,theparadingaroundthetavern,themanagershurlinginsults.WhenIlostbefore,myfriendswouldbuymeadrinkandwe’dlaughitoff.Nowthenewspaperwriterspublishcolumnsspeculatingastowhethermycareerisover.”
Modestyhadn’tconsideredthathisprofession,ifonecouldcallitthat,wouldbeasourceofanystressfortheman.Shehadjustassumedthemenpummeledeachother.Shehadn’tthoughtofitasabusiness.“Idon’treadthepapers,butIcan’tbelieveanyonewouldthinkyourcareerover.You’restillyoungand…virile.”
Helookedawayfromthewindow.“Virile,amI?Ididn’texpectcomplimentsfromyou.”
Nowshelookedoutthewindow.Itmadeherstomachclenchtoseethebuildingspasssoquickly,butshewantedtolookatanythingbuthiseyes.“It’snotacompliment.It’sjustanobservation.”
“Whatelsehaveyouobservedaboutme?”
Shedidlookintohisgreeneyesnow.“Youareratherarrogant.”Tohersurprise,helaughedattheinsult.
“Iwon’targuewithyouthere,butIwillsayI’mknockedonmyarsejustoftenenoughtokeepmyarrogancebearable.Atleastthat’swhatChibalesays.”Hepulledoutapocketwatchandwincedatthetime.“SpeakingofChibale,he’llhavemyheadifI’mtoolatetothestudio.”Hereplacedthewatch.“Can’tbehelped,Isuppose.”Heknockedontheroofofthehackney.“Justoverthere,”hecalled,pointingoutofthewindow.
TheconveyancestoppednearthefountainandMr.PayneclimbedoutthenhandedModestydown.HepaidthedriverthentookherarmandledhertoEliasandthepiecart.
“Well,well,well,”Mr.Eliassaid,beamingatPayne.“IneverthoughtI’dseeyeagain.”
“I’vebeendreamingofyourpies,”Paynesaid.“Ihadtocomebuyone.Actually,two.Oneforthelady.”
Eliasnoddedather.“Goodmorning,MissBrown.”
“Goodmorning,Mr.Elias.”
Thepiesellerdidn’taskwhyshewaswithafighter,buthegaveheraninquisitivelook.“IheardaboutyerlosstotheGerman,”Eliassaid,openingacupboardandremovingtwopies.“Yeplanningarematch?”
“Ileavethattomymanagerthesedays,”Paynesaid,“butIbelieveplansarebeingmade.”
Eliaswrappedthepiesinpaperandhandedthemover.“Ihaven’tseenyefightinyears,butI’dpaytowatchthatone.”
“Nochargeforyou,”Mr.PaynesaidandhandedEliasacoin.Eliaslookeddownatit.
“Thisistoomuch,sir.”
Mr.Payneraisedahand,refusingtotakethepoundback.“Comeseemefight,andI’llconsidermyselfrepaid.Goodday,Elias.”HetippedhishatandledModestytotheedgeofthefountain.Shesatandhehandedherapiethensathimselfandunwrappedhis.Hetookabiteandsmiled.Modestyunwrappedherown,hermouthwateringatthescent.Shetookherownbite,anditwassogoodsheforgothowcoldthestoneofthefountainwasunderneathherorhowbriskthewinterbreezeorevenhowworriedshewasforherfather.Shejustenjoyedthewonderfulflavorofthepie.Shecouldn’trememberwhenshe’devertastedsomethingsowonderful.
“ShallIbuyyouanother?”Mr.Payneasked.
Shelookeddownandrealizedshe’deatentheentirepieinonlyafewminutes.Shefelthercheeksheat.“No,Icouldn’teatanotherbite.”
“We’llsee,”hesaid.“Fornow,showmewhereyoulive.”
Sheroseandtookadeepbreath.“It’sthisway.”Five
Rowdendidn’trealizethey’darriveduntilshewenttoanarrowdoorandproducedakey.Hewouldn’thavethoughtthisahouseatall.Therewerenowindowsfacingthestreet,noknocker,nothingtoindicatesomeonelivedhere.Butsheopenedthedoorandsteppedinside,andheturnedsidewaystofitthroughandfollow.Hehadtostooptopassunderthedoorandonceinsidetheceilingwasn’tmuchhigher.Mostynwouldhavehadtoduck,butRowdenjustkeptaneyeoutforlowbeams.They’denteredaroomwithrectangularwindowsintheback.Thesunwascreepinghigherinthesky,allowingsomelighttofilterthrough,butMissBrownlitalampandliftedit,sheddingmorelightontheroom.
Thechamberwascoldandhadthemustysmellofdisuse,butitwasinperfectorder.Atablesatononesideoftheroomandacouchandchairswereclosertothewindow.“Ithoughtyousaidthehousehadbeenransacked.Thislooksneatasapin.”
“Neatasa—look!”Shewenttothetableandliftedateacup.“Thisteahasbeensittingherefordays.MyfatherwasdrinkingitwhenIleftthatmorning,andheleftitrighthere.Andseethischair?Itisn’tpushedin.“
“Sohedidn’tpushhischairinorputthecupawaybeforehedeparted.That’sunusual,Itakeit?”
“Yes.Andseehere.Thistableisoutofplaceandhisstudy!”Shestartedforadoorattheotherendoftheroom.Well,itwasaboutfivestepsaway.SheopenedthedoortorevealwhatRowdenwouldhavedeemedacloset.Itheldadesk,achair,andashelfofeighttotenbooks.Shetooktwoofftheshelf.“Thesewerelyingopenonthedesk.Justleftopentothepageshehadbeenreading.”
“That’sunusual?”
“Yes!”Hercolorwashigh,andhecouldseehewasexasperatingher.Hedidn’tmeanto.Obviously,somethinghadhappenedtomakeherfatherleavewithoutexplanation,buthewasbeginningtodoubtfoulplay.
“Heneverleaveshisbooksopen.Hesaysthatdamagesthespine.Theyarealwaysreturnedtotheirproperplace.”
“Isanythingelseamiss?”heasked.“Isanymoneymissing?”
“Wehadnomoneytosteal.Theroomsupstairsappearundisturbed.”
“MayIsee?”
Sheduckedherhead,andhecouldhaveswornhercheekswentevenredder.“Ofcourse.”
Sheledhimupanarrow,steepstaircase.Hehadtoturnsidewaystofithisshouldersandducktoavoidgivinghimselfaconcussion.Atthetopofthestairsweretwodoors,bothclosed.Sheopenedthefirst,andheknewimmediatelyitwashers.Itwastiny,barelybigenoughforthenarrowbed.Onthewallhungadressandhatexactlyliketheonesheworenow.Underthatwasatrunkwhichheimaginedheldherunderthings.Theroomhadnothingelse.Nowindow.Nopaintings.Notevenarug.Itwasthemostspartanchamberhehadeverseen.
Onelookatthecrispwhitebedclothes,andheknewithadbeenundisturbed.“Didyourightanythinginthisroom?”heasked.
“No.Ithadn’tbeentouched.”
“Theotherdoorisyourfather’s?”
Sheledhimout,closingherdoorbehindhimthenopeningherfather’sdoor.Itwasonlyalittlelargerthanhers,anditwasequallyasspartan.Therewasabed,apegwithablackcoathangingonit,andatrunkunderneath.TheonedifferencewasthatonMr.Brown’strunkwasaframedpicture.Rowdensteppedinsidetolookatthepicture.WhenMissBrowndidn’tfollowwiththelamp,helookedoverhisshoulderather
“Idon’tusuallycomeinhere,”shesaid.“I’mnotallowed.”
“Ithinkwecandispensewiththeusualrulesinthissituation.Bringthelampcloser.”
Shedid,andRowdenliftedthedrawingandstudiedit.Ithadbeendoneincharcoalandwasthelikenessofayoungwomanwearingadarkdresswithawhitecollar.Sheworeacapoverherhair,whichwas,ofcourse,black,asthedrawingwasincharcoal.Hereyeswereblacktoo,butRowdenknewthoseeyes.TheyhadthesameshapeasMissBrown’s.“Yourmother?”heasked.
Shenodded.“HernamewasCatherine.”
“CatherineRyanandthenCatherineBrown,yes?”Hesettheportraitonthefloorbesidethetrunk.“Couldyourmotherread?”
“Ithinkso.”Sheseemedtoconsider,herunusualeyesloweringandthenmeetinghis.“Yes.ShereadmetheBibleandtaughtmemyletters.”
“Thenyourauntmighthavecorrespondedwithher.”
“Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.”
“Isthereanyplaceyourfathermighthavekeptsomethinglikethat?Lettersorothermementos?”
“Perhapsinhisdesk,”shesuggested.
“Perhaps.”Hereachedforthetrunk.
“Whatareyouabout,sir?”
Hegesturedtothetrunk.“Theportraitishere.Otheritemsofyourmother’smightbeheretoo.Perhapsonewillgiveusanideaofthewhereaboutsofherfamilyandyouraunt.”Hedidn’tsayit,buthethoughtthecontentsmightalsogivethemaclueastowhereherfatherhadgone.Perhapsthey’dfindheowedalargesumofmoneyandhadfledtotheContinenttoavoidpaying.RowdenopenedthetrunkandindicatedMissBrownshouldmovecloserwiththelamp.
Shedidsoreluctantly,andRowdenlookeddownatapileofneatlyfoldedwhitelinen.Hecarefullyliftedtheshirtsandneckclothsoutoftheway,revealingawoodenbase.“Falsebottom,”hesaid.
“Don’tberidiculous.Thistopshelfliftsout.Mytrunkisthesame.”Shereacheddownandliftedthewoodeninsert.Shebrushedagainsthimassheleanedover,andhecaughtthescentofstarchandsoap.Underneaththerewasanotherfragrance,somethinglightandfemininehehadcaughtinherchamber.Heknewthatfragrance—notperfumebutthescentofsoftcurves,silkyhair,andsatinskin.Itwasthefragranceofawoman.
“Ikeepmybrushandhairpinsonthistopshelf,”shewassaying,oblivioustothefactthathewashalf-drunkonherscent.“Underneatharemy…areclothingitems.”
Rowdenlookedupather,theirfacescloserthansherealizedbecausesheimmediatelysteppedback.Forjustamoment,he’dbeenimaginingthoseclothingitems—chemisesandstockingsandstays.Thesortsofwomenheknewgenerallyworefrillyunderthingswithribbonsandsilk.ButheimaginedModestyBrownliveduptohername,preferringsensible,plainitemsmadeofstarched,scratchyfabric.Rowdencouldimagineherinit,imagineherliftingherarmstounpinherhair,ashehadwatchedherpinitthismorning.Thecurveofherbreastwouldberevealed,sweetandroundandtemptingintheprimchemise.
“There,yousee?”shesaid,gesturingtothetrunk.Rowdenforcedhimselftolookbackatit.“It’sjustahat.”
“Noonekeepsahatinatrunk,”hesaid,liftingitout.“Hatsarehung.Ah.Hereweare.”Heliftedapacketofletterswrappedwithtwine.“Correspondence.”HeheldthepacketouttoMissBrown,butshedidn’ttaketheletters,merelylookedatthem.“Doyouwantmetoreadthem?”heasked.
“No,”shesaid.“I…it’sjust,I…”
Rowdenwaited,butshedidn’tseeminclinedtosaymore.Andshedidn’ttaketheletters.Hehadtheurgetocheckhispocketwatch.HeknewhewouldbelateforhisappointmentatMostyn’s,butthequestionwashowlate.
“Whydon’twegodownstairs,maketea,andlookthroughthese?Youdon’thavetoopenthem.Butwecansitdownandseewhatwehave.”
Shestoodverystillandthengavethebriefestofnods.Rowdenroseandstartedforthedoor,lettersinhand,butshemadeatskingsoundandcrouchedtoreplacetheitemsinthetrunkastheyhadbeen.Finally,shefollowedhimout,closingthedoorbehindher.Oncedownstairs,shewentintothekitchenandseemedtostandthereasthoughshehadneverseenitbefore.
“Doyouneedmetolightthestove?”heasked.“Youcanfetchwaterwhilethestoveheats.”
Shenoddedandtookabucketoffapegonthewall.Thenshepaused,wenttoashelf,andtookdownateatin.Shelookedinsideandshookherhead.“Nevermind.Wehavenotea.”Sheheldthetinout,andhesawtherewerebutoneortwoleavesstucktothebottom.“Weusetheleavesoveragain,”shesaid.“Myfatherlikesacupofteawhileheworks,andsoIdidnotlaythemouttodrywhenIleft.Hemustneverhavehadthatsecondcupoftea.”Shegesturedtotheteapotonthesmalltablenearthestove.Iftheleaveswerestillinside,theywouldbemoldyandunusablenow.
Rowdenwasn’tsurewhatheshoulddo.Shewassafeinherownhome,butshewasallalone.Shewasn’talady,whorequiredachaperoneorservants,butwasshesafehereonherown?Whatifsomethingnefarioushadhappenedtoherfather?Perhapstheevildoerswouldcomebackforher.
Heratherdoubtedthat,consideringthehousehadbeenuntouched,butRowdendidn’tfeelrightsimplytakinghisleave.Helookedaboutthekitchenandnotedthebareshelves.Shehadwhatlookedtobeabitofflourandperhapssomepotatoes,buthowwouldshebuymoreprovisions?Surelyherchurchwouldhelpher,buthadn’tshesaidthechurchelderhadturnedheroutandinstructedhertolookforheraunt?Othersmightbewillingtohelp,butRowdenknewwhatitwastorelyonthecharityofothers.Hesupposedfamilywasdifferent.Ofcourse,whenhisfatherhaddisownedhim,nooneinRowden’sfamilyhaddaredopposetheduke.
Hesimplyneededtohelpherfindheraunt.Thenhewouldknowshewassafeandcaredforandhecouldbethroughwithhisobligationtoher.“Gatherwhatyouneed,”hesaid.“You’recomingwithme.”
Sheliftedherheadandstaredathim.“Iamnot.”
“Ican’tleaveyouherewithnothingtoeatandnoblunt,andIcan’thaveyousleepingonMostyn’sdoorstepagain.We’llbringtheletters,andyoucanreadthematMostyn’s.Hehasacomfortableroomawayfromtheboxingringswhereyoucanreadandhaveacupoftea.”
“Idon’tthinkIshouldfrequentaplacefullofhalf-dressedmen,”shesaid.“Myfatherwouldn’tlikeit.”
Rowdenwantedtosaythatherfatherhadleftherinthispredicament,butheknewwhentokeephismouthshut.“I’llsendforLadyLorraine,”hesaid.“SheisMostyn’swifeandthedaughteroftheDukeofRidlington.Youcan’tobjecttoher.”
“Thedaughterofaduke?”Shelookeddownatherself,andforthefirsttimeRowdendetectedanoteofself-consciousnessaboutheruglyattire.“Ithinkshehasbetterthingstodothantakeaninterestinme.”
“Youthinkthatbecauseyoudon’tknowher.She’snotsohighintheinstep,andsheloves—”Hehadbeenabouttosayinterferingbuthestoppedhimselfjustintime.“Sheloveshelpingothers.”
“Idon’tknow.”Shesmoothedherskirts.
“Well,consideritinthehackney.”Hewithdrewhispocketwatchandwincedatthetime.“Iamlate,sowemustgonow.Fetchwhatyouneed.Hurryup,”hesaid,givinganimperiousflickofhishand.Hemightbeabare-knucklefighter,buthestillknewhowtobehavelikethesonofaduke.
Shehesitatedslightlythenwenttodoasheasked.Lessthantenminuteslater,shereturnedwithasmall,wornvalise.Hetookitfromher,liftedthelettersandslippedtheminhispocket,thenledheroutofthehouse.Shelockedthedoorandtuckedthekeyinapocket,andthenheboughtheranotherofElias’spieswhiletheysearchedforahackney.Ofcourse,sheprotestedshewasnothungry,butsheateit,andRowdenwaspleasedtoseeherfaceregainingsomecolorandhermovementsfilledwithmoreenergy.Ifhecoulddonothingelse,hecouldmakecertainthiswomandidnotstarve.
***
MR.PAYNE’SMANAGERwaspacingoutsideMostyn’swhentheyarrived.ModestyhadthoughtPaynewell-dressedthismorning,buthismanagerwasasighttobehold.Heworeatallbeaverhatcockedtooneside,acoatthecolorofadeepredwine,acream-coloredwaistcoatwithembroidereddesignsthatwerethesamecolorasthecoat,andtightfawn-coloredbreeches.HisbootswereevenglossierthanMr.Payne’s.Shethoughthemightbecoldashewasonthestreetwithoutagreatcoat,butheseemedtohavebeenpacingforsometimeandperhapsthathadkepthimwarm.
AssoonasMr.Paynehelpedheroutofthehackney,hismanagercalledtohim.“You’relate.”
“Couldn’tbehelped,”Mr.Paynesaid,givingherareassuringsmile.Hewasalwaysdoingthat—tryingtoreassureher.Sheappreciatedtheattempt,eventhoughshewasbeginningtorealizethatlifeasshe’dknownitwasover.
“Itcouldbehelpedifyouarrivedontime.”Hestoppedpacingandstaredather.“Whyisshehere?First,shecostyoufiftyguineas,andnowshemakesyoulate?WhatgoodisanothermatchwiththeGermanifyouwon’ttrain?”
Mr.Paynestiffened.“YouarrangedanotherfightwiththeGerman.”
“Notyet.”
PaynewavedhimawayandstartedforthedoortoMostyn’s.Modestycouldn’tdoanythingbutfollow.
“ButIknowhowtomakeithappen.”
“Goon,”Paynesaid,openingthedoorandallowinghertopassinside.Sherememberedthesmallentrywayfromtheweekbefore.Thedoortothestudiowasopen,andMr.Burrsweptaspotnearoneoftheropedoffareas.
“He’llfightyouagain,”themanagersaidashesteppedinside.
“When?”
“WhenyouwinagainstAbrahamStrong.”
“Strong?”Mr.PayneyelledthewordsoloudlyModestyjumped.
“Stopbellowing.You’refrighteningyourcompanion.”
“I’mquitealright,Mr.Chibale,”shesaid.
Helookedatherdirectlyforthefirsttime.“It’sMr.Okoro,buteveryonecallsmeChibale.Thisloutherehasn’tgivenmethepleasureofyourname.”
“MissBrown,”theloutinquestionsaid.
Mr.Okorogaveheraslightbow.“IwishIcouldsayitwasapleasure,MissBrown,butasyouseemtobeadistraction,onceagain,formyclienthere,I’mafraidI’mleftwonderingwhyyouarehere.”
“I’llexplainlater,”Paynesaid,movingintothestudio.“WhydoIhavetofightAbrahamStrong?Ibeathimlastyear.”
Mr.Okorofollowedhim.“Thenbeathimagain.”
Paynestoppedandnarrowedhiseyes.“TheGermandoesn’twanttowastehistimewithme,isthatit?HewantsmetoproveIcanwinbeforehe’llfightagain.”
Burrglancedatthemandsweptabitmoreeagerly.
“Hismanagerdidn’tputitthatway.”
“No,I’msurehewasfarblunter.Tellhimno.Wait.Tellhimhellno.I’llfighttheGermanornoone.”
“Iamthemanagerhere,”Okorosaid.“YoufightwhoIsayorgetanothermanager.”
Paynestaredathim,andModestyhalfexpectedhimtodismissthemanager.Mr.Mostynhademergedfromaroomafewfeetaway,andModestywonderedifthatwastheroomMr.Paynethoughtshemightuse.
“Arrangethematch,”Mr.Paynesaid.
Mostyn,leaningonthedoortotheantechamber,noddedhisheadinapproval.“Oh,shutup,”Mr.Paynesaid,thoughtheothermanhadsaidnothing.
“Thematchisalreadyarranged,”Mr.Okorosaid.“TomorrownightattheCockandBull.You’rethelastfightofthenight.”
“Howmuch?”
“Ifyouwin,twentypounds.”Hepaused.“Andwesplitit.”
Mr.Paynegaped.“You’retakingfiftypercentnow?That’shighwayrobbery.”
“IearneditwithallIhadtodotoarrangethismatch.Besides,”Okorosaid,walkingtowardthecenterring.“Ineedanewcoat.I’mtakingMadameRenaudtotheNegroMerchant’sGuildwinterball.”
Payne’sfacebrokeintoagrin.Modestyhadseenhimsmilebefore,butthissmilewasalmostboyishinitsenthusiasmandexuberance.“Shesaidyes?”
“Ofcourse,shesaidyes.”
“Youweren’tsocertainofyourselfafewdaysago.”HeturnedandMr.Okorohelpedhimoutofhiscoat.
“Iknewmycharmwouldwinintheend.”
Mr.Payneslappedhimontheshoulderandtuggedhisneckclothloose.InthatmomenthisgazelandedonModesty,andsherealizedhe’dallbutforgottenher.Hestiffened.“MissBrown.Letmeshowyoutotheantechamber.”Helookedforhervalise,scoopeditbackup,andstartedfortheroomwhereMr.Mostynstoodleaningagainstthedoor.
Payne’sfootstepsfaltered.“Mostyn,MissBrown—yourememberher?”
Thetallblondmannoddedslightly.
“She’shitabitofasnag,andIofferedheruseoftheantechamberthismorning.Shehassomereadingtodo.IhopeIhaven’tbeenpresumptuous.”
Mr.Mostynliftedoneeyebrow,whichModestytooktoindicateMr.Paynehadbeenpresumptuous.Butthentheblondmansteppedasideandheldoutahand,indicatingtheantechamber.
“Imayhaveuseofit?”sheasked,wantingtobecertainbeforesheentered.
“Yes.”Hehadadeepvoicebutnotanunkindone,andshesmiledathimandsteppedintothechamber.Itwassmallbutquiteacontrasttotheutilitarianboxingstudio.Thechamberheldalargedeskwithtwochairsbehindit.Onewasmorefeminineinstyleandtheotherlargeandfunctional.Alowfireburnedinthehearthacrossfromthedeskandavelvetcouch-typefurnishingfacedthehearthonarugofdeepbluesandgolds.Severalotherchairswerepushedagainstthewalls,obviouslyreadyforuseshouldtheybenecessary,andModestywasquiteatalossforwheresheshouldsit.Thecouchlookedinviting,butifsheweretoread,perhapsthedeskwouldbebetter.She’dneverhadsomanychoicesinseating.
SheglancedatthedoortoseeifMr.MostynwouldgiveheranyguidanceandsawMr.PaynehadonearmaroundMr.Mostyn’sshoulder.MostynwasleaninghisheaddowntolistentoPaynewhowasspeakingearnestly.Mostynglancedinherdirection,andModestyrealizedtheymustbespeakingofher.ThenPaynelookedatherandgaveherareassuringsmile.Shetriedtosmileback,butitwasallshecoulddothismorningnottoburstintotearsyetagain.
“Youwrite,andIwillsign,”Mr.Mostynsaid.ItwasthemostwordsModestyhadeverheardhimutter.
Mr.Paynelookedalittletakenaback,buthedidn’targue.Heenteredthechamber,wenttothedesk,andopenedandcloseddrawersuntilhefoundablanksheetofparchment.Thenhedippedaquillinink,scrawledsomethingquickly,andheldthepenouttoMostyn.WhenMostynentered,theroomseemedtogrowverysmallandquitewarm.Thetallmanbent,andwithhistonguelodgedatthecornerofhislips,hemadehismark.Thenhereplacedthequillandreturnedtothestudio.Modestycouldseewhyheusedthisroom.Theangleofthedoorallowedhertoseealmosttheentirestudio.ShesawMostynhandthepapertoMr.BurrandthenBurrnoddedandleft.
“LadyLorrainewillbeheresoon,”Mr.Paynesaid.“Inthemeantime,makeyourselfcomfortable.Doyouneedanything?”
Shetriednottolookathim.Whenshelookedathim,shecouldn’thelpbutnoticehedidnotwearacoat,andshecouldseetheslimnessofhiswaistwherethewaistcoatmethisbreeches.Hehadbroadshouldersandunlikesomemensheknew,hedidnotneedthecoattoemphasizethem.Theywerequiteimpressiveeveninshirtsleeves.
“MissBrown?”heasked.
Shequicklylookedaway.“WhereshouldIsit?”sheasked.
“Anywhereyoulike.IbelieveLadyLorrainefavorsthischair,soyoumightfinditcomfortable.”Heindicatedthefemininechairbehindthedesk.“Oryoucouldsitonthechaiselongue.”Heindicatedthecouchbeforethefire.“Thenyou’resuretobewarm.I’llbeintheringifyouneedanything.”Hestartedforthedoorthenpaused.“TrynottomakeasuddenappearancewhenI’minthemiddleofsparring,”hesaid.“Myheadhasjuststoppedringingfromthelasttime.”
“Iapologizeagain,”shesaid.“Ididn’tmean—”
“Iwasteasingyou.Youhaven’tbeenteasedmuch,haveyou?”
Sheshookherhead.Shecouldn’tremembereverhavingbeenteaseduntilshemethim.Shehadalwaysthoughtofteasingasanunwantedthing.Aboypullingagirl’shairorcallingeachotherrudenames.ButthesortofteasingMr.Payneemployedwasnotunpleasantatall.Itwassortofafriendlybanter.
“Right.I’llbeinthestudio,”hesaid.Shewatchedhimleaveandwonderedifsheshouldclosethedoorbehindhim.Whileshewondered,hestrippedoffhisneckclothandhiswaistcoatandhandedthemtoMr.Okoro,wholaidthemonachairatthesideofthering.ThenMr.Paynesatonthechairandremovedhisbootsandstockings.Modestyknewsheshouldclosethedoornow.Attheveryleast,sheshouldlookaway.Therewasnothingsinfulaboutthehumanbody.Godhadmadeit,anditwasgood—aswaseverythinginHiscreation—butthedirectionofherthoughtswasanythingbutpure.AndPaulhadinstructedthechurchatPhilippitothinkon“whatsoeverthingsarejust,whatsoeverthingsarepure,whatsoeverthingsarelovely.”
Mr.Payne’scalveswerecertainlylovely.Theywereroundandmuscledandcoveredwithalightdustingofdarkhair.Andthenhetuggedhisshirtoverhishead,andthoughshehadseenhischestbefore—justthismorning,infact—hermouthstillwentslightlydryatthesightofhisbarechest.Notonlywerehisshouldersbroad,theyweremuscled.Shehadseenstatuescarvedoutofmarble,andshehadthoughtthesculptorsquiteinventiveinthewaytheyportrayedthechiseledformofman.
Butnowsheknewmenlikethoserenderedinmarbleexisted.Menwhohadflatbellieswithridgesofmuscle,thickbiceps,and—Payneroseandgaveheraviewofhisbareback—andLord,helpher,backsthatallbutrippledwithmuscles.Mr.Paynebenttoduckundertheropesmarkingtheboxingarea,andModestyquicklyturnedherback.Sheshouldnotoglehim.Shewouldnotliketobeogledweresheinhisplace.Shewouldreadtheletters.
Shewithdrewthepacketfromhercoatpocketthendecideditwastoowarmwiththefireandremovedthecoat.Therewasacoatrackbythedoor,andshehungthecoatthereandthen,abitreluctantly,hungherhatthereaswell.Shetuckedstraypiecesofhairintohercapandhopednottoomuchofherawfulredhairwasvisible.Ofcourse,standingsonearthedoorshecouldnothelpbutpeekout.Paynewasinthearena,goingthroughacomplicatedsetofjumpsandlungesanddroppingtothefloor,allatwhatappearedtobeMr.Okoro’sdirection.Sherealizedhemustbewarminguphismuscles,andsinceherthoughtsweredriftingtothosemusclesagain,shelookedawayandtookherpacketofletterstothelongue.
Thetwineonthepackethadbeentiedtightlyasthoughtokeepthelettersundisturbed.Hereffortstoloosentheknotonlytightenedit.Modestywonderedifherdifficultywasasortofsign.Perhapsshewasnotmeanttoreadthecontentsoftheletters.Theywereprivate.Buthowcouldshejustifynotreadingthemiftheymightgivesomeindicationastothewhereaboutsofherfather?Whatifheneededher,andthecluestofindinghimwereinthispacketofletters?
Shestruggledwiththeknotfurther,andthengaveup,wenttothedeskandsearchedforaletteropener.Shefoundaquillknifeandusedittoseverthetwine.Thepiecesunraveledandpooledonthedesk.Shesweptthemawayanddumpedthemintherubbishbin.Lookingup,shenotedshehadanevenbetterviewofthestudiofromthedesk,soshemadeapointofreturningtothelonguebeforeshewatchedMr.Paynetoolong
Shewasstaringattheletteronthetopofpileandwonderingattheunfamiliarwritingonitwhensheheardthefirstthud.Shecouldn’tstopherselffromlookingupandimmediatelywitnessedanotherthud.Mr.PaynehadhitMr.Mostyn’supraisedpalm.MostynhadjoinedPayneinthering.Mr.Mostynhadremovedsomeofhisclothingaswellbutretainedhisshirt.HewasnotmovingaroundasMr.Paynewas.HewasholdinghishandupandmovingitaboutasMr.Paynedancedaround,jabbinghighandlowatMr.Okoro’sorders.Mr.Okorostoodoutsidethering,seemingtodirecttheactivitiesinside.
Modestycompletelyforgotthelettersshewassupposedtobereading—orperhapsnotsupposedtobereading—andstaredattheactioninthering.ThewayMr.Paynemovedwasmesmerizing.Hewassofluidandquick.Hismusclesbunchedandrippledashemoved,anditwasalmostbeautiful.AndthenMr.Okorocalledoutsomethingandbothmenwenttodifferentcorners.Mr.MostynleanedagainsttheropesonhissideasthoughquiteboredwhileMr.PaynewipedhisfacewiththetowelMr.OkoroofferedandlistenedasOkorogavehimalitanyofdirections.Finally,henoddedandtossedthetowelontheropes.Hewentbacktothecenterofthering,andMostynjoinedhim.
Theirstancesweredifferentnow,tighterandpurposeful.Sherealizedthesparingwasabouttobegininearnest.Themencircledeachother,bothcrouched,Payne’sfistsraised,Mostyn’shanginglooselyathissides.PaynejabbedandMostynducked.Thiswentonforsometime,withMostynseemingtoeasilyavoideverypunchPaynethrewathimandnotofferinganyofhisown.
Andthensuddenlythatchanged.
Suddenly,asifsomeundetectablecuehadbeengiven,Mostynthrewapunch.Mr.Payneseemedreadyforit.Heducked,turned,andpunchedback.ModestywincedatthethudofMr.Payne’sfistconnectingwithMr.Mostyn’schest.Sheputherhandsonhercheeks,readytocoverhereyesifnecessary.Shereallydidnotwanttoseeanyonehurt.
Thetwocontinuedtheirdance—advancing,retreating,onejabbingandthentheother.Mr.PaynehitMr.Mostynagain,andModestycoveredhereyes.Herfingerswerespread,though,andshesawthesmileMr.Mostynflashed.Itwasnotasmilefilledwithanysortofhumor.
Fasterthanshecouldcloseherfingers,Mostynfeignedmovingtotheleft.Mr.Payneshiftedaway,andMostyn,whohadonlylookedasthoughhewouldgoleft,hadanopeningandpunchedhimhardinthebelly.
Mr.Paynedoubledover,andModestyrantowardthering.Shedidn’tevenrealizeshewasrunninguntilshewasattheropesandpausingtofigureoutthebestwaytogetthroughthem.Finally,shedecidedtherewasnoladylikewaytogetthroughthemandjustcrawledunderone.Vaguely,sheheardMr.Okorocallinghername,butsheignoredhim,climbedtoherfeetandstoodbetweenMostynandPaynewhowasnowlookingupatherinconfusion.
“Stepback!”sheorderedMr.Mostynwholookeddownatherimpassively.“Don’tyoudarehithimagain.”
Hedidn’tmove,whichwasnotapromisenottohitMr.Payneagain,butatleastwasn’taggressive.SheturnedtoPayne.“Areyouhurt?”
Hegesturedandmovedhislips,butshecouldn’thearandhadtostepcloser.Closertothatbarechest,whichwasnowglisteningwithperspiration.“I’mfine,”hewheezed.“Justhadthebreathknockedoutofme.”
SheturnedbacktoMostyn.“Whywouldyouhithimsohard?Thisissupposedtobepractice.”
MostynlookedatherthenPaynethenfinallytoMr.Okoroasthoughheexpectedoneofthemtodosomethingwithher.Mr.Okoroenteredthering.“Itispractice,MissBrown.”
“ButMr.Mostynhithimveryhard.”ShegesturedtoMr.Paynewhowasnowcoveringhiseyesasthoughhumiliated.
“Letmehelpyouout,”Mr.Okorosaid.ModestyalloweditandthenallowedMr.Okorotoescortherbacktotheantechamber.Hewenttoacabinet,liftedapitcher,andpouredaliquidintoaglass.Shetookitandsniffed.
“Itisonlywater.Youseemedoverwrought.”
“Iamnotoverwrought.”Shewasoverwrought.Shemustbeifshewasclimbingintoboxingrectangles.“IdonotunderstandwhythatbigbrutewouldhitMr.Payne.”
Okorosmiled.“RowdenhitMostynfirst,andharderthanheshouldhaveforapracticefight.Mr.Mostynwasrepayinghiminkind.It’sasortofgamewiththem.Theyhavebeenfriendsforalongtime,andtheyliketoseewhocanlandapunch.”
“Hittingeachotherisagame?”
“Youdonothavebrothers,doyou,MissBrown?”
“No.Whathasthattodowithanything?”
“Nevermind.IassureyouMr.Payneisfine.Heisalsoabigbrute.IfMr.Mostynwantedtoflattenhim,hecouldhave.Hepulledthatpunchatthelastmoment.”
Shesippedthewaterandsankontothelongue,considering.“Itdidnotappearthathepulledit,asyousay.”
“Iassureyouhedid.Moreover,youneedn’tconcernyourselfwiththepractice.IamtheretomakecertainRowdenisreadyforhisfighttomorrow.Hewon’tbereadyifMr.Mostynknockshimflat.Butyoushouldletmewatchoutforhim.Mendonotliketoberescuedbywomen.”Heloweredhisvoice.“Hurtsthepride.”
ShethoughtofMr.Paynewithhishandoverhereyes.“Ididn’tthinkofthat.”
“Idaresaythissituationisallnew.Mostyn’sladywillcomesoon,andshewillexplaineverything.”
“Fine.”Modestynodded,ratherembarrassednowthatshehadobviouslyoverreacted.WhenMr.Okororeturnedtothestudio,sheroseandclosedthedoorafterhim.Shehadcomeheretoreadthelettersandreadthelettersshewould.
Nomatterhowmuchtheyscaredher.Six
LadyLorrainesweptinwithalotofnoiseandcommotionasshealwaysdid.Sheworeavelvetdressindeepgreenwithamatchingcape.Burrhurriedinherwakeandshehadtwomaidservantswithheraswell.AssoonasRowdenheardherlaugh,Mostyncockedhisheadandclimbedundertheropes.Inthemiddleoftheround.Whatmanwalkedawayfromafightbeforethebellwasrung?
RowdenputhishandsonhishipsinannoyanceashewatchedMostyngreethiswife.Shesmiledupathim,hercheekspinkfromthecold.Thecapeconcealedherfigure,soRowdencouldn’tseeiftherewasanysortofbumpindicatingshewaswithchild,butshecertainlydidn’tactlikeshehadsloweddownatall.Shewasspeakingrapidly,asusual,directingeveryoneinherwakehitherandyon.
ShecametoastopbeforetheringandlookedupatRowden.Hegaveheraslightbow.“Apleasuretoseeyouagain,mylady.”
Mostynthrewhisshirtathim,hittinghimsquareintheface.
LadyLorrainelaughed,andRowdentuggedtheshirtoverhishead.“Itisapleasuretoseeyouaswell,mylord.”
Heraisedahand.“I’mnotalordanylonger.”
“Youshouldbe,”shesaiddefinitively.“AndIwillsimplynevergetusedtocallingyouMr.Payne.YouareLordRowdenPaynetome.Ideemitso.”
“HowcanIarguethen?”
“Youcan’t.Now,whereismycharge?”
Rowdenshookhishead.“Sheisn’tacharge,exactly.”ItwasbestifLadyLorrainedidn’tbegintothinkofMissBrownasalittleinjuredbirdtotakeunderherwing.Rowdenwastryingtokeephimselffromthinkingthatway.Yes,MissBrownneededhelp,andyes,hewantedtohelpherinsofarashecould.Buttherewasonlysomuchhecoulddo.Sheneededsomeonetoassumecareforher,andhewasnotarelationorahusband,andthereforecouldn’tdomorethanhe’dalreadydone.
Infact,ayoungunmarriedwomanlikehershouldnotbeassociatingwithhimtoofrequently.Evenifshedidhavecaptivatingeyes…
Buthehadtoputheroutofhishead,ashehadbeendoing,becauseshewasn’tthesortofwomanhecouldhaveanythingtodowithorwouldwanttohaveanythingtodowithhim.BettertogivehertoLadyLorraineandhaveherassist.Shewasalwayslookingforsomethingtodo.
“Sheneedshelpfindingheraunt,oneAugustaRyan.”
“Neverheardofher,butIcanmakeinquiries.”
“Ithoughtyoumight.She’sinabitofafragilestate.Herfatherhasgonemissingandshehasnowheretogo.Burrfoundhersleepingonthestoopoutsidethismorningandbroughthertome.”
“Whyyou?”LadyLorraineasked.
“That’salongstory.Mostyncantellyou.”
Sheglancedatherhusband.“Youknowhewillnevertellme.”
Rowdenpointedtothecloseddooroftheantechamber.“She’sinthere.”Heclimbedundertheropes.“I’llintroduceyou.”
“Soyourfallfromgracedidnotstripyouofallyourmanners,Isee.”
Hewinced.“Isupposethatpunwasintentional.”
“AnyonewiththesobriquetTheRoyalPaynemustappreciateagoodpun.”
Mostynmovedaheadofthemandopenedthedoortotheantechamber.Hestopped,stared,andlookedbackathiswife.“She’sasleep.”
LadyLorrainepeeredaroundhim.“Whyisshedressedlikethat?”
“She’saMethodistorsomesuchthing,”saidRowden.
“TheMethodistsIknowdon’tdresslikethat.”
Rowdendidn’tknowanyMethodists.Orifhedid,theyhadn’tconfessedtoit.Cometothinkofit,she’dneversaidshewasaMethodist.He’djustassumed.“Maybeshe’snotaMethodist.She’spartofoneofthosechurcheswhostandoutsidetavernsandyellatthesoileddovestorepent.Hermotherisdead,andherfatherismissing,andallshehasissomememoriesofanaunt.Shewassupposedtobereadingtheseletterswefoundtoseeiftheycontainedanyinformationontheaunt.”
LadyLorrainemovedintotheroomandlookeddownatMissBrown,whowascurledintoaball,herfacepressedintothecushionsofthelongue.Theletterswereclutchedinherhand.
“Poorthing.Andwhywereyouinvolvedagain?”
Shedidnotsurrendereasily.
“Mostynwilltellyou.Ihavetogetbacktothestudio.”Buthedidn’tmove.Instead,hewatchedasEwan’swifebentandputahandonMissBrown’sshoulder.“Whatishername?”sheaskedquietly.
“ModestyBrown.”
“MissBrown.”LadyLorraineshookherslightly.“MissBrown,timetowakeup.”
MissBrown’sstrikingeyesopened,andshesatquickly.“Ifellasleep.”
“That’squitealright.Youmustbeverytiredafteryourordeal.”
“LadyLorraine,”Rowdensaid,“mayIpresentMissModestyBrown.”
MissBrowngottoherfeet.“ShouldIcurtsy?”
LadyLorraineheldoutawhite-glovedhand.“Whydon’tweshakehands?”
MissBrownshiftedherletterstotheotherhandandtookLadyLorraine’s.
“Didyoureadtheletters?”Rowdenasked.
MissBrownlookedsheepish.“Notyet.Iwasaboutto,butImusthavefallenasleep.”
Rowdenbelievedher,buthedidn’tthinkthatwasthewholeofthereason.Hewouldhavethoughtshewouldstartreadingthelettersimmediately,almostassoonasheremovedthemfromthetrunk.Butshehadhesitatedtoeventakethem.Wassheafraidofwhatshemightfindout?
“Youmustbetiredandhungry,”LadyLorrainesaid,takingherarm.“Youwillcomehomewithme,andafteryouhaverestedandeaten,wecantalkabouttheauntyou’researchingfor.IknowalmosteveryoneandsurelysomeoneknowssomeonewhoknowswhoandwhereAugustaRyanmightbe.Ihavethecarriage,andwecanbehomeshortly.”
“Lorrie,”Ewansaid,hisvoiceawarning.Hewasamanoffewwords,buthedidn’tneedthem.Clearly,hewasnothappywiththeplanforMissBrowntotraveltohishome.
“Iwillseeyouthisevening,”LadyLorrainetoldhim.“I’lltellCooktoprepareyourfavoritefordinnertonight.”SheledMissBrownoutoftheantechamberthendirectedoneofhermaidstoreturnandgatheranycorrespondence.“I’llreadit,andwecandiscussanynecessaryrepliesafterdinner,”shetoldherhusband.Hescowledather,butshemerelywavedandwasgone.
EveryonewhohadservedcloselywithMostyninthewarknewhecouldn’treadverywell.AlthoughColonelDravenalsohadastakeinthestudio,RowdensuspectedLadyLorrainewasfarmoreinvolvedinitsoperationsthananyonebutMostynhimself.Itwasherconnectionsthatbroughttheinitialclienteleinforlessons,anditwasobviouslyherparticipationintheactualbusinessaffairsofthestudiothatweremakingMostyn’ssuchasuccess.
“Well,”Chibalesaid,comingtostandbesideRowden.“That’sdone.”
Yes,itwas.Rowdenwasrelieved.
“Howaboutanotherround?”Chibalesuggested.
Mostynshookhishead.“Lessoninaquarterofanhour.”
Chibalenoddedtowardasetofleathersacksfilledwithgrain.“Let’sseehowyoudoagainstthose.Yourlefthookcouldbestronger.”
Rowdenwantedtoobjectthathewasdonefortheday,buthehadtowinthefightwithAbrahamStrongandwinitsoundly.ThentheGermancouldn’tpossiblyrefusetofighthimagain.
***
LADYLORRAINECHATTEDallthewaytoherhome.Modestyhardlyheardwhatshesaid.Shewastoobusygapingattheornateinteriorofthecarriage.Thedoorhandlesappearedtobegoldandthecurtainsframingthewindowswerevelvet.Asachild,thechancetositinthebackofawagonortakeabriefrideinahackneywasanenormoustreat.Andofcourse,shehadseentheconveyancesoftheupperclassespassbyonthestreet.LadyLorraine’swasbynomeansthegrandestshehadseen.OnceshehadglimpsedtheDukeofDevonshire’sandhadstoppedtostare.
ButeveninherwildestimaginingsabouttheinterioroftheDevonshirecarriage,shehadnotimaginedcomfortlikethis—plushseats,asoftblanketandhotbrickstokeepherfeetwarm,andLadyLorrainehadevenproducedateaservice.
“Ah,hereweare,”LadyLorrainesaid,andittookamomentforModestytotearhergazefromapanelunderLadyLorraine’sseat,whichshehadbeeninformedheldasmalllibrary.
Modestylookedoutthewindowandspottedasmallwhitehousewithtreesoutfrontandgreeneryacrossthedoor.Itwasnotoneoftheterracedhousesbutfreestanding.Sheimaginedinthespringthetreeswerelovelywithgreenleavesandbuds.Theemptyflowerboxesinthewindowwereprobablyfilledwithcolor.“It’slovely,”shemurmured.
“IshouldhavehadthegreeneryremovedafterEpiphany,”LadyLorrainesaid,“butIratherlikeit.Thefrontofthehouselookssobarewithoutit.”
Thecarriagehaltedandafootmancameforwardtolowerthestairsandopenthedoor.LadyLorrainealightedwitheaseandModestyfollowedmoreclumsily
Theinteriorofthehousewasjustasspectacularasthecarriage.ThefoyerwaswideandairywithagrandmarbleY-shapedstaircase.WhileModestylookedupandupatthehighceiling,LadyLorrainespokewithahousekeeperwhogaveModestydubiousglancesbeforetakinghercoat.ThenLadyLorraineledModestytoasmallpaleblueparlorwheresheimmediatelysatonacouchandputherfeetonafootstool.Asmallwhiteandbrowndogtrottedin,sniffedatModesty,andthenclimbedonthecouchandputitsheadinLadyLorraine’slap.
“ThisisWelly,”shesaid,strokingthedog’ssoftears.Shesighed.“Theproblemwithpregnancy,”LadyLorrainesaid,“isthatIamtiredallofthetime.”
ModestyglancedatLadyLorraine’smidsection.Therewasjusttheslightestprotrusionwhereherwaistwouldbe.AseventhementionofpregnancyembarrassedModesty,shequicklyturnedthesubject.“Iamsorrytotroubleyou.Iassureyou,youneedn’thavegonetothismucheffortonmyaccount.”
LadyLorrainewavedahand.“WhenIhavemybreathback,IwillwriteafewlettersandwewilldiscoverwhatthereistoknowaboutyourauntAugustaRyan.Untilthenyouarewelcometostayhere.ItisjustMr.Mostynandme,soobviouslywehaveplentyofroomtospare.”
“Hisboxingstudiomustdoverywell,”Modestysaidbeforeshecouldthinkbetterofsuchacomment.
ButLadyLorrainelaughedanddidnotseemoffended.“Mr.MostynisabsolutelymakinganameforhimselfinadditiontothenotorietyhehadacquiredfrombeingawarheroandayoungersonoftheEarlofPembroke.Butthishousewasaweddinggiftfrommyfather,theDukeofRidlington.”
Modestyhadbeentoaweddingbreakfastonceortwice.Shehadgiventhenewlywedsabasketwithbreadandjam.Clearly,shehadsteppedintoadifferentworld.
UncertainwhattosayinresponsetoLadyLorraine,Modestypulledthepacketoflettersfromherpocketandlookedatthem.Shehadnotbeenabletoreadthemearlierthatday.Shehadwantedto.Shehadevenstaredatthemforalong,longtime,willingherselftoopenthefirstone.
“Doyourequireprivacy?”LadyLorraineasked.“Icancertainlygiveyouprivacy.Icanretiretoanotherroomorhaveonereadiedforyouor…whatisthematter?”SheroseandwenttositbesideModesty.Amomentlaterthedogtrottedoveraswell.
“Iamagreatcoward,”Modestysaid,wipinghereyes.Shemuststopcryingandactingasthoughherfatherwasdead.Shemusthavehopeandfaith.Shemustbestrong.Modestycouldn’teverrecallhermothercrying,andModestymustshowthesameresolveindifficulttimes.Godwasstillwithherandthoughitmightfeelasthoughthewholeworldwasagainsther,sheknewthatwasjustherfearspeaking.
“Youcannotbeacoward,”LadyLorrainesaid,pattinghershoulder.“YouspentthemorningwithmyhusbandandLordRowden.Thattakesagreatdealofcourage.”Shesmiled.
“LordRowden?DoyoumeanMr.Payne?”
“Yes.IforgetthatheisMr.Paynenow.Hisfatherisanidiot.”
Modestyknewsheshouldnotgossip,butshestillhopedLadyLorrainewouldcontinue.Instead,theladytuggedatabellpullandwhenthedooropenedtoadmitthehousekeeper,shesaid,“IsMissBrown’schamberready?Showhertoit,willyou?Sherequiressometimetorefreshherself.”
ModestyroseandLadyLorrainetookherarm.“Aretheotheritemsinyourvaliseas…blackasthese?”sheasked,indicatingModesty’sdressandhat.
“Yes.Webelievesoberdressshowshumility.”
“Itcertainlydoes.Ifyouwouldlikeachangeofclothing,Imightbeabletofindsomethingsuitable.YouandIarenotofasimilarsize.”ThiswastrueasLadyLorrainewasseveralinchestallerthanModestyandhadmorewomanlycurves,thoughthatmighthavebeendue,inpart,tohercondition.Evenso,ModestycouldneverwearthesortofclothingLadyLorrainewore.Itwasnotevenafternoon,andsheworeagownthatrevealedhercollarboneandshowedtheswellsofherbreasts.Agauzyfichudidnothingtohidethefleshondisplay.“Nellmightbeabletofindsomething.Sheismylady’smaid.Sendforher,willyou?”shedirectedoneofthefootmenstandingoutside.
“Comedownwhenyouareready,”LadyLorrainesaid.“Iwillfortifymyselfwithteaandthenbeginmycorrespondence.IhavetothinkwhoisstillinTown,”shesaidalmosttoherselfassheturnedaway.
Modestyfollowedthehousekeeper,aMrs.Keefer,toachamberonthesecondfloor.ItwasasmallchamberbutstillgranderthananyModestyhadeverseen.ItwaspaperedinmintgreenandcontainedalargebedwithaninvertedV-shapeddrapingofsilkyfabricatthehead.Therewasalsoanotherofthosechaiselongues,thisoneincream,andatablewithapitcherofwaterandabasin.
“Thefirehasn’thadtimetowarmtheroommuch,”Mrs.Keefersaid.“Butyoushouldbecozyenoughinaquarterofanhour.”
“Iamperfectlycozynow.Thankyou.”
Thehousekeeperturnedtoleavethenhesitatedandturnedbackagain.“Ihopeyoudon’tthinktotakeadvantageofmylady.Sheistrustingandkind,andsometimesthosequalitiescloudherjudgmentofpeople.”
Modestyunderstoodthewarningclearenough.“Iassureyou,Ihavenoillintentions.Iamgratefulforhergenerosity.”
“Good.Mr.Mostynisagentleman,butheisprotectiveofLadyLorraineandherunbornbabe.Iwouldn’twanttoangerhim.”
Modestywouldn’twanttoangerhimeither.Shenoddedandwhenthedoorclosed,sheremovedherhatandwenttothewashbasin.Shewashedherfaceandhandsthentookaseatonthelongueandstaredattheletters.Shehadputitofflongenough.Nothingintheseletterscouldchangeherlifemorethanithadalreadybeenchanged.
Shedidn’tmindthatsomeofithadchanged.Ifsheneverhadtostandoutsideatavernandyellaboutsinagain,shewouldbeperfectlyhappy.Butshedidmissherfather,andshemissedtheroutineoftheirdaysandlisteningtohissermonsonSunday.Shemissedthecomfortofbeinginherownhomeandknowingwhatthenextdaywouldbring.Noweverythingwasuncertain,andshefearedlifewouldneverreturntowhatithadoncebeen.Moreimportantly,sheworriedshemightneverseeherfatheragain.
Modestyopenedthefirstletterandbegantoread.
Andthensheunderstoodhowveryna?veshehadbeenbecause,afteronlyafewwords,sherealizedherwholelifehadbeenalie.Seven
Acrosstown,ThérèseRenauldhadstartedthatdaywithaproblemofherown.AndthatproblemwascalledMadameLeMonde.
ThérèsewasactuallyFrench,unlikemanyofhercontemporaries,includingMadameLeMonde.ItwasfashionableinLondontopatronizeaFrenchmodiste,andsoeveryoneofhercompetitors,savingafewwhohadbeenestablishedfordecadesandservedtheoldermembersoftheupperclasses,hadsuddenlysproutedFrenchaccentsandlineages.Thérèse’sfashionswouldnotappealtoadowageroffourscore,buttheywerebecomingrapidlysoughtafterbytheyounger,mostfashionableoftheton.LadyDaphneFitzRoyworeRenaudgownsexclusively,andnowthatshewaswillingtowearcolorsotherthanpinkandnotdrapeherselfinbows,otherladiesofhersethadtakennotice.
EventheDuchessofMaynehadboughttwogownsandapelissefromThérèseandhadpromisedtoreturn.Thepatronageofaduchesswasnothingtoscoffat.Indeed,itwasasignthatMadameRenauldwasmakinganameforherself.Andthatbroughtouttheworstinhercompetitors,namelyhernemesis,MadameLeMonde.MadameLeMonde,accordingtoPhaedra,had“doneitagain.”
“Ihavenothadenoughcoffee,”Thérèsesaid,openingBleuette’scageandplacingherinside.Theparrotimmediatelybeganpreeningandfluffingherfeathers.“Betsy!”shecalled,thenlookedatPhaedra.“Betsyeesstillwithus?”
Betsyappeared,herblondhairpinnedneatlyinabun.“Yes,madame?”
“WillyouseetoBleuettetheesmorningandbringmeuncaféaulait.”ShegesturedtoPhaedratofollowhertoherofficeintheback.Itwasasmalloffice,butthedooropenedintotheroomwhereherseamstressesworked,allowingThérèsetooverseetheirprogresswhennecessary.Thegirlshadnotyetarrived,buttheirstationswereallneatasapin.Thérèseproducedakeyfromherreticuleandunlockedheroffice.Shehadtakentokeepingitlockedafterseveraldesignsketcheshadgonemissingafewmonthsago.Shemotionedtothecouchandtookthepaddedchairbehindherworktable.Aquickperusalofherspaceshowedhereverythingwasasshehadleftit.Phaedrahadbeenwithherfromthestart.Shehadbeenaseamstressfortheshop’slastowner,andwhenThérèsehadboughtthestore,Phaedrahadstayedon.Thérèsehadquicklyseentheyoungwoman’svalue.Shewassmartandhard-workingandhadaneyeforwhichcolorsandmaterialswouldbestsuitaclient.ThérèsehadsoonmadethewomanthemanagerofMadameRenauld’sandhadneverfeltamoment’sregret.
Betsyenteredwithatrayholdingthecoffeeandsetitontheworktable,asafedistancefromthepapersfilledwithsketchesofgowns.“LadyRoycewillbehereateleven,”shesaid.Thérèseglancedintotheseamstress’sworkroomandspottedLadyRoyce’sgown,displayedonadressform.
“WhatprogressonMrs.Bartlett’spelisse?”
“IwillaskMrs.Farmerwhenshearrives,butIbelieveitisalmostfinished,”Phaedrasaid.Mrs.Farmeroversawthesewingandwasanaccomplishedseamstressherself.Sheoftenattendedtothemoredelicatefinaltouchesonapiece.
“C’estbon,”Thérèsesaid.Mrs.Bartlettwasnottitled,butshewasverywealthy.Thérèse,likeanygoodbusinesswoman,caredasmuchforwealthasprestige.ShegesturedforBetsytodepartandafterasipofhercoffeeraisedherbrowsatPhaedra.“Well?”
“MaryMarkerdidnotcometoworkyesterday.HerfriendsAnneandMegsaidshewassick,butIsentaspytoMadameLeMonde’s.”
“Goon.”ButThérèsealreadyknewwhatshewouldsay.
“Sheisthere.ThatmakesthethirdseamstressMadameLeMondehasstolenfromusinayear.”
“Theescannotbetolerated.Ipayourgirlsagoodwage.”
“MadameLeMondeoffersthemmoreandthenafewmonthslaterreducestheirwages.Shedoesnotcareiftheyleaveafterthat.Bythattime,shehasalltheinformationonyourdesignsshedesires.”
“Andmesfilleshavenotrealizedtheesyet?”
Phaedraadjustedherblackhair,whichwassweptoveroneshoulderinsteadofinanelegantchignonasusual.“Theyhave,butMaryMarkerapparentlyneededthebluntnow.Hersonissickandneedsadoctor.”
“Thenwhydidshenotcometome?Ihavetoldthemtocometome.Youwillspeaktomesfillestoday,oui?”
“Iwasthinkingofcallingamorningmeeting.”Phaedrasmoothedherhairoverhertemple.Shedidnotnormallyfusswithherhair.“Iwillremindthegirlsthatyou’reheretohelp,andthatiftheyleaveforLeMonde,oranyoneelse,youwon’thirethemback.”
“Andnoothermodistewilleither.Noonewantsatraitor.Phaedra,whateeswrongwithyourface?Whydoyouhideit?”
Phaedrastilled.“Nothing,madame.IthoughtI’dtryanewstylewithmyhairtoday.”
Thérèsenarrowedhereyes.“Ipreferitoutoftheway.”Shewavedahand.“Goandrearrangeitbeforeweopen.”
“Yes,madame.”Sheroseandthensatbackdownagain.Thérèsesaidnothing.Waiting.Phaedraswallowed.“Ican’tputituptoday,madame.”
“Letmesee,”Thérèsesaid.
Phaedraliftedherhandandpushedthehairback.Amottledredbruisemarkedthelightbrownskinathertempleandtheupperpartofhercheek.
“Whereelsedidhehityou?”
“Itwereanaccident,madame.”Phaedrahadpulledherselfoutofpovertyintherookeriesandtaughtherselftosew.She’dworkedhardtospeakinawaypleasingtotheladiesoftheupperclass.Butheraccentgrewheavywhenshewastiredorupset.
“Hehityouonaccident?Aprizefighterdoesnothitbyaccident.”
“Imadehimangry.”
Thérèserose,tooirritatedtositstill.“Thateesnoexcuse.Iamoftenangrywhenasleeveeessewedwrongorahempoorlytacked.Idonotbeatmesfilles.”Shegesturedtotheworkroom.
“He’saman.Hecan’tcontrolhistemper.”
Thérèsegapedather.“Theeseesalie,anevenbiggerliethanMadameLeMonde,thatsnake,tells.Youdonotdeservetheestreatment,Phaedra.Youwillleavehimandfindanotherman.”
Phaedrabitherlip,andThérèsesawtearsinhereyes.ShehadneverseenPhaedraclosetotears,notevenwhentheMarchionessofWarethrewavaseatherbecauseherpregnancyhadmadeherwaisttoothicktofitinthedressshe’dordered.Phaedrahadcaughtthevaseandthenpattedthemarchioness’sshoulderwhileshesobbed.
ThérèsekneltbeforePhaedra.“Tellme.”
“Ihavethoughtofleaving,”Phaedrasaid,wipingathereyes.
Thérèsesatbackonherheels.“Buthewillnotletyou.Eesthatwhyhehityou?”WhenPhaedradidnotanswer,Thérèsegentlytookherarms.Phaedrawinced.Thérèsereleasedherimmediately.“Sothebruiseswedonotseeareworsethanthosewedo.Gohome.Youshouldnotbeheretoday.”
Phaedrashookherhead.“Iwouldratherbehere,madame.Iwanttowork.Ineedtokeepbusy.”
“Verywell.”Thérèsehadoftenusedworktodistractherfromherownproblems.Sewingorsketchingwerewonderfullycalmingforananxiousmind.ShehadknownmenlikePhaedra’sprizefighter.ShehadfledherhomeandfamilyinToulousetoloseherselfinParisbecauseofamanlikethat.ShehadbeenfortunateenoughtofindworkinParisandtomakeherselfintothebusinesswomanshewastoday,butthebackalleysofParisandLondonwerelitteredwiththewomenwhohadnotbeensofortunate.
“Ishouldhavebelievedyou,”Phaedrasaid.
Thérèseraisedherbrows.
“Youtoldmenevertotrustthem.Men,thatis.YoutoldmeIwasbetteroffwithoutthem.NowIdon’tknowwhattodo.”Sheclosedhereyesandwhispered.“I’mafraidhe’llkillme.”
“Iwon’tlethim,”Thérèsesaid,thoughhowshewouldstopaprizefightershedidnotknow.“Youleavetheestome.”Thedoortotheworkroomopened,andseveralseamstressesfiledin,chattingquietlyandshakingtherainofftheircoats.
“Butmadame—”
“Noquestions.Timetowork.”SheshooedPhaedraaway.
“Yes,madame.”Phaedraroseandgavethegirlsasmile,chattingwitheachasthoughnothingwasamiss.
Thérèseclosedherdoorandsippedhercoffee,whichhadgonecold.No,shecouldnotstopaprizefighter.Butperhapssheknewsomeonewhocould.
***
BYLATEAFTERNOONMODESTYhadreadalloftheletterstwice,herfaceburning,herheartaching,herheadthrobbing.Shewantedtheletterstobewrong.Afterthefirsttimeshereadthem,shemadeherselfreadthemallagain,becauseshewascertainshe’dmisunderstoodsomething.
But,ofcourse,shehadn’t.Shemightbeshelteredandna?vetothewaysoftheworld,butshewasn’tdull-witted.
Theletterswerefromanotherwoman.Awomanwhowasnothermother,althoughsomeofthelettersweredatedfromthetimewhenhermotherhadbeenalive.TheearlylettershadmadeModesty’scheeksheat.ShehadreadSongofSolomonintheBible,andtheseletterswerejustaseye-opening.Thiswoman,whosignedhernameasFanny,wroteofherlongingforSamuelBrown.Itwasaphysicallonging.She’ddescribeditingreatdetail.She’dalsodescribedwhatshewantedModesty’sfathertodowithherandwhatshe’denjoyedthelasttimehe’dvisitedher.
Thelettersspannedyears,andthelaterletterswerelesspassionateandmoreofapracticalnature.Fannytalkedofherchildren—theirchildren.Modestyhadnotknownherfatherhadanotherfamilyandotherchildren.Shehadnotknowntherewasanotherwomaninhislife,awomanwhowaslikeawifetohim.Hesentthiswomanmoneyandhevisitedheronoccasion.Modestyhadneverknown.ShehadneverevensuspectedthateverySunday,whileherfatherpreachedtruthandlightandagainsttheevilsoffornication,allalonghewaslyingtoeveryoneheknewandfornicatingforyears.
Butperhapshewasnotlyingtoeveryoneheknew.Perhapshewasonlylyingtoher?Perhapseveryonebutherknew.
Hermotherhadknown.
Thatwasthemostshockingletterofall.OneofthelettersmentionedCatherineBrown.FannywrotethatshewasrelievedSamuel’swifehadforgivenhim.DidthatmeanModesty’smotherknewtherelationshipcontinued?Hadshecondonedherhusband’sinfidelity?Hadshetoopretendedtobegoodandpureand,inreality,ledalifeofliesandduplicity?
Atapsoundedonthedoor,andLadyLorraineentered.“Ihavesentthefirstbatchofletters,”shesaidenteringtheroom.“Didthelettersgiveyouanycluesastothewhereaboutsofyouraunt?ItwouldhelptoknowifshelivesinLondonor…”ShewrinkledherbrowandlookeddownatModesty,sittingonthefloorwiththelettersstrewnabouther.“Areyouwell?”
Modestywantedtosay,Yes,Iamquitewell.Thankyouforasking.Butshecouldn’tpretend.Shewouldnotpretend.Shewouldnotlie
“No,”shesaid.“No,I’mnotwellatall.”
Theladymovedforward,hereyeswide.“What’shappened?Hassomethinginthelettersupsetyou?”
“Youcouldsaythat.”Modestyjumpedupandkickedattheletters.“Heisaliar,mylady.Myfather.Heliedtomeforyears.”Shebegantopace,feelingtheneedtomove.Shewassoangry,angrylikeshe’dneverbeenbeforeinherlife,andshecouldnotcontainherfeelings.Shehadtodosomethingwiththatemotion.Andshewouldnotcry.No.Nomoretearsforherlyingfather.Wherewashenow?Withhismistress?Withhisotherfamily?AnddidhecarethatModestywasscaredandalone?Hadheevensentsomuchasanotetoassureherhewasalive?
Shewasn’tsurehowmuchofherthoughtsshesaidaloud,butitmusthavebeenenoughthatLadyLorrainebegantounderstandthenatureofthings.“Iamcertainhecares.Somethingmusthavehappenedtopreventhimfromsendingword.Istillthinkweshouldseekoutyouraunt—”
“DoyouknowwhatIthink,mylady?IthinkIamtiredofwearingthisblack,itchydress.Iamtiredofstandingonstreetcornershalfthenightandtellingloosewomentheyareboundforhell.Iamtiredofhavingbeerandcursesthrownonme—andmuchworse,Iassureyou.Ihavetriedtofollowmymother’sexampleforyears.Ihavetriedtobegood.”Upanddownthecarpet,backandforthshewalked.
“Ofcourse,youhave.”
“Butmymotherlookedtheotherwaywhilemyfathersiredchildrenwithanotherwoman.Welivedinpovertysohecouldsendanysparemoneyhehadtothisotherwoman.Ithoughtmymotherwassogoodandpure.Butshewasweakandpathetic.Ihateher.Ihatethemboth.”
“Mydear,youdon’tmeanthat.”LadyLorrainesatonachair.“You’reangryrightnow.You’verealizedthatparentsarehuman,liketherestofus.Theymakemistakes.”
“Theyneverallowedmetomakemistakes,”Modestysaid.“Theyexpectedmetobeperfect.Idon’twanttobeperfectanylonger.Iwant…”Shelookedaroundthechamber,notcertainwhatshewanted.AndthenhergazelandedonLadyLorraine.Theladylookedsolovelyinagreendresswithsheersleevesandthatgauzeatherthroat.Sheevenhadagreenribbonwoventhroughherlightbrownhair.
“Iwantribbons,”Modestyhadsaid.“Iwantapinkdress.”
LadyLorraine’seyeswidened.“Notpinkwithyourcoloring.Whataboutyellow?”
“Yes.Yellow.Iwantayellowdresswithribbons.Iwanttoletmyhairdown.”Sherippedofftheblackhatandunpinnedthecapshewore,thenshookoutherhairsoitfelldownaroundherinlong,auburnwaves.
LadyLorrainenoddedwithexcitement.“I’llsendwordtoamodiste,andmylady’smaidisawonderwithhair.”
“Ineedsomewheretogo.Anassembly?”She’ddanceallnight,eventhoughsheknewnodances.Mr.Paynewouldteachher.Shedidn’tknowwhysheshouldthinkofhim.He’dpawnedheroffonMostyn’swife.Butshewantedtoseehimagain.Shewantedhimtolookatherashehadthatmorninginhisbedchamber.Shewantedtostealakissandseewhatitfeltlike.
LadyLorrainewasshakingherhead.“Therearen’tanyassembliesthistimeofyear.”
“Thefightthen.Whataretheycalled?Mills?Iwanttoattendthemilltomorrownight.”
LadyLorraineclappedherhands.“Thatwouldbemostexciting.Leaveeverythingtome.Whydon’tIhaveabathsentup?YoubatheandrefreshyourselfwhileIseetothemodisteandtheprizefight.”
“Andtheribbons.Don’tforgettheribbons.”
“Lorrie!”cameamalevoicethatmadeModestyjump.
“It’sjustMostyn,”LadyLorrainesaid.“I’llsendupthewater.”SheleftandModestyheardhercall.“Ewan,Ineedribbons!”
AssoonasLadyLorrainedeparted,Modestyhadsecondthoughts.Shehadspentyearsdoingeverythingshehadbeentold.Shehaddressedandbehavedsoberlyandhumbly.Shehadbeenfrugal,buyingonlythenecessitiesandeatingverysimply.Shedarednotevenallowherselftolookatadisplayofprettyhatsorimaginewhatitwouldbeliketoeatoneofthesugaryconfectionsshesometimessawwhenpassingbytearooms.Sheneverdrankanythingstrongerthantea,neverswore,neverwentanywherebutchurchandtorailagainstsin.She’dneverdanced,neverreadanythingbeyondtheBibleandbooksofsermons,andneverevenplayedacardgame.
Andwhathadbeenthepointofallthedeprivation?Tobeasperfectashermother?Well,hermother’slifehadbeenalie.TopleaseGodabove?ModestyratherdoubtedGodcaredifsheworeaprettydressordanced.Afterall,eventheBiblesaidtherewasatimetodance.Shewantedtodance.
Atapsoundedonthedoor,andModestyturned,wonderingifLadyLorrainehadfoundsomeribbonsalready.Butitwastwofootmenwithalargehipbath,followedbyamaidwithatowelandawoodenbox.Thefootmensetthetubdown,andthemaidopenedthebox.“Wouldyoulikemetoscentthebathwater,Miss?”themaidasked.“Ihavescentsofrose,lavender,orlemon.”
Modestylookeddownattheboxandsawvialsofscentsaswellassoapforthebodyandthehair.“Idon’tknowwhichtochoose,”shesaid.“Youchoose.”
“Yes,miss.”Shewenttothetubandsoonthescentoflavenderfilledtheroom.“Wouldyoulikemetohelpwithyourbath?”
Modestyshookherhead.“Icanmanage.”
“ThenI’llstokethefireandreturnwitharobeforyoutowearafteryoubathe.ShallIhaveyourgarmentscleanedforyou,miss?”
Modestywantedtotellhertoburnthem,butshehadlearnednevertobehastyorimpulsive.“Yes,please.”
Themaidbobbedandhurriedaway.Modestyundressedandsankintothefragrantwater.Shefeltasthoughshewaswashingheroldselfawayandrevealingthenew.Eight
ThatnightAidantossedapaperonthetableinfrontofRowdenandsatinthechairontheotherside.RowdenwasattheDravenClubwherethemenwhohadservedinthewarwithColonelDravenoftengathered.Therehadbeenthirtyinthetroopatthestart,andadozenhadreturned.Onlyafewwereinattendanceattheclubthatafternoon.
Rowdendrankcoffee,ratherthanhispreferredbrandyandsoda,inpreparationforthefightthenextnight.Hismusclesweresorefromthepracticesessiontoday,butagoodsessioninthemorning—lighterandnottoostrenuous—wouldwarmhimupandleavehimingoodshape.
“Lookslikewe’retravelingtoHungerford,”Aidansaid.
Rowdenliftedthepaperandsmiled.AmillhadbeenarrangedataracecourseinHungerfordfortheweekfollowing.Detailswerescantandwouldnotbemadeknowntothepublicuntiladayorsobeforetheactualmatch.Thiswaythemagistrateswerenotalertedtothebouttooearly,althoughmanyofthemwouldprobablyattendasspectatorsanyway
“I’llhavetotellChibale.”
“I’msurehealreadyknows.YoubeatAbrahamStrongtomorrowandtheGermanwillhavetofightyou.Doitatthisvenueandthewinningswillbe…”Hewhistled.
“Icouldmakeenoughtoretire.”
“Youcouldretireanyway.Youhaveenoughfromsellingyourcommission.Butfightinghasneverbeenaboutthebluntforyou.”
Rowdendrankhiscoffeeandwisheditwerebrandy.Aidanwasn’twrong.Atfirst,he’dfoughtforthemoney.Heneededitafterhisfathercuthimoff.Butwhenhe’dheardhowangryhissuccessmadetheduke,Rowdenhadwantedtofightallthemore.Hewantedtostickathumbinhisfather’seyeanddigitaround.
“Noteverythingisaboutblunttome,no,”Rowdenagreed.“Difficultasthatisforyoutoimagine.”
Aidansmiled.HewasrumoredtobethebastardsonoftheMarquessofCranbournebyachambermaid.ThemarquesshadprovidedforAidanandhismother,buthehadn’tcodifiedthearrangement.Aidanhadbeentwelvewhenhisfatherhadsuddenlydied,andheandhismotherhadbecomedestitute.He’dhadtoresorttostealingtosurvive.ColonelDravenlikedtosaythearmyhadreformedAidan,butAidanhadjustlearnedmoresociallyacceptablewaystosteal.He’dusedthemoneyfromthesaleofhiscommissiontobuysharesinvariouscompaniesandschemesandmadeahundredtimeswhathe’dinvested.
AidanwasnowoneoftherichestmeninEngland,andcertainlythewealthiestoftheSurvivors.EventheDukeofMayne’swealthcouldn’tholdacandletoAidan’s.
“Don’tyouhaveahouseinHungerford?”Rowdenasked.Theinnswouldbefull,andeventhisfarinadvance,alltheroomswouldbetaken.Hedidn’trelishsleepinginastableoroutinthecold.
“No.HowmanyhousesdoyouthinkIhave?”
Rowdenconsidered.“Eight.”
“Onlysix.”
“Mymistake.”
“Nicholas’sbreedingfarmisnearHungerford,”Aidanofferedafteramoment.
“Doyouthinkhe’llhaveus?”
“Hewon’tshootatuslikeNash,thoughhe’sprobablyequallyassurly.I’llwritetohim.”AidanroseandleftthereadingroomjustasEwanstalkedin.Rowdenshrankbackinvoluntarily.ThelookinEwan’seyeswasdeadly.
“What’swrong?”RowdenaskedasEwantoweredoverhim.
“MissBrown,”Ewansaid.
MissBrown?Howcouldshebeanytrouble?Infact,sinceRowdenhadhandedherovertoLadyLorrainethisnoon,he’dhardlygivenheranotherthought.Hardly,ofcourse,beingtheoperativewordbecauseeveryonceinawhile,whenhewasn’tmakinganefforttocontrolhisthoughts,theywanderedbacktothesightofherauburnhairfallingoverhershouldersasshelayinhisbed.
Ridiculous.RowdenwouldhaveaboutasmuchchancetobedanunasMissBrown.Andthatwasfine.Womenwereadistraction.He’dbeeninloveonce,andithadallbutdestroyedhim.Sleepingalonewasachoiceandalonelyoneatthat.Butthatwashischoice,andhepreferreditthatway.
Ewansatandgesturedtooneofthefootmentobringhimadrink.“What’sthat?”hegesturedtothepamphletRowdenheld.
“There’sanexhibitioninHungerfordsometimenextweek.TheGermanisfighting.”
“Thensoareyou.”
“Yes.”
Thefootmandeliveredthebrandy—straight,nosoda—andafterEwanhadconsumedabouthalfofit,RowdenbroachedthesubjectofMissBrownagain.“WhatisthematterwithMissBrown?Can’tfindheraunt?”
Ewanliftedashoulderandfinishedthebrandy.Rowdenraisedhisbrowsandwaited.Ewanloweredhisglass.“Don’tknowanythingaboutanaunt,butshehasmywiferunningaroundwithribbons.”
Thismadeabsolutelynosense.MissBrownhadonlybeenwithLadyLorraineforahalfday.RowdengaveEwanamomenttosaymore,butthemanwastaciturnasusual.“Well,”hefinallysaid,“IamsureMissBrownwillbeonherwaytoheraunt’ssoonenough.”
Ewansignaledforanotherdrink.Thiswasseriousthen.“Shewantstocometomorrow.”
“Tothemill?”
Ewaninclinedhishead.“Isaidno.”
“That’sreasonable.It’snotsafeforaladyinhercondition.”
Ewangrunted.Rowdenhatedtoask.HecouldseeEwanwasinastateandmighthauloffandpunchhimifthemoodstruck,butRowdenwascuriousnow.HesorarelywitnessedEwanthisriledup.
Rowdenpushedhischairbackaninch.“Whowantstocometothemill,exactly?LadyLorraine?”
“Both.”
Rowdenshookhishead.“Thatdoesn’tmakeanysense.MissBrownisagainstprizefighting.”
Ewanmutteredsomethingelseaboutribbons.
“AreyoucertainMissBrownwantstocometothemill?”
Ewangrowled,andRowdenshutup.AhalfhourlaterhewasonhiswaybacktohisflatinSt.James’s.Ewan’sfoulmoodhademptiedmostoftheclub,andRowdenthoughtitprudenttoremovehimselfashewasresponsibleforEwan’strouble,atleastinpart.Hestillcouldn’tfigureouthowMissBrowncouldbeanytroubleatall.He’dimaginedshewouldreadthelettersandthenseekoutheraunt.Ifthelettersdidn’tholdacluetoheraunt’swhereabouts,LadyLorrainewouldfindout.ShekneweveryoneinTownandhadawayofmakingpeopletalktoher.
She’dfoundawaytomakeMostyntalktoher,andhenevertalkedtoanyonemorethanwasnecessary.
Rowdenreachedhisdoor,openedit,andwasgreetedimmediatelybyTrogdon.RowdenwasimpressedashismanservantusuallyhadtobesummonedtotakeRowden’scoatandhat.HewasabouttopraisethemanwhenTrogdonsteppedclose.“Youhaveaguest,sir,”hesaidquietly.
“HowcanIhaveaguest?”HeturnedsoTrogdoncouldremovehiscoat.“Ijustarrived.”
“Heiswaitingforyouinthedrawingroom,sir.”
Rowdenwastiredandwantedtoeatandresthistiredmuscles.Hedidnotwanttomakeinanesmalltalkwithsomeonewhohopedtoprofitoffhisprizefightingandhadagrandmoneymakingscheme.“Whyishewaitingforme?Whydidn’tyoutellhimIwasnotathome?”
Trogdon’sbrowcreased.“Butyouareathome,sir.”
Thedoortothedrawingroomopened,andChibalepokedhisheadout.“It’sjustme.”
Rowdenwasnotreassured.“IfyouwantmetogobacktoMostyn’stonight,youcanforgetit.”
“Ididn’tcomeaboutthat,”Chibalesaid,movingbackwardasRowdenenteredthedrawingroomandclosedthedoor.“Icameabouther.”
“MissBrown?”HadshedonesomethingtoangerChibaletoo?
Chibalecockedhishead.“Who?ThatlittleMethodist?”Hewavedahand.“No.MadameRenauld.”
Rowdensat.“Really?Whatabouther?”
“Shesentforme.”
“Thenwhyaren’tyouinherdrawingroom?”Hesettledinachair,puttingonelegoverthearm.HesignaledforTrogdontobringhimadrink.
“Justwater,Trogdon,”Chibalesaid.Hereachedinhiscoatandproducedtwooranges.“Forbeforethefight,”hesaid.“They’llgiveyouenergy.”
Trogdontooktheorangesandleft.Rowdenhopeditwastofetchhimsomethingstrongerthanwater.
“Shesaidtocomewhenhershopclosesandherseamstresseshavegone,”Chibalesaid.“IthoughtI’dwaitanotherhour.”Hesatthenstoodthensatagain.Rowdenwatchedhim,feelingamixtureofamusementandbewilderment.Chibalewasalwayssoconfident,sosureofhimself.Whenhe’dfirstapproachedRowdenaboutbecominghismanager,Rowdenhadbrushedhimoff.He’dbrushedoffeveryothermanwhoapproachedhim,offeringtotakefiftypercentofhiswinningsforactingasaglorifiedbottleman.ButChibalehadbeensoself-assured.He’dhadaplantomakeRowden’snamefamousthroughoutthecountry.RowdenhadbeenusingRowdyRowden,butChibalesaidTheRoyalPaynehadmoreclassandwouldhighlighthislineage.Peoplewouldpaytoseethesonofadukefightorbeknockedout.AndChibaleofferedtoonlytakethirtypercentofhiswinnings.HesaidRowdenwouldmakesomuch,thirtypercentwouldendupmorethanthefiftypercentanyoftheothermenwho’dofferedtomanagehimwouldmake.
Rowdencouldn’trefuse.Eventhoughhe’dstillbeenskeptical,hewantedtogiveChibaleachance.Chibalehadnotdisappointed.Hewasatirelesspromoter,anardentsupporter,andarelentlesstrainer.HehadnegotiatedfightsandprizemoneywithsomeofthemostnotoriouscriminalsinLondoninsomeoftheseediestvenuesinTown.Hemovedequallywellamongtheupperclassesatpuffed-upexhibitionsheldatgardenparties.NeverhadRowdenseenChibaleill-at-ease—notwhenspeakingwithacountess,notwhenarguingwithanarchrogueandhisfellowcoves,notwhenthingswentwrongandtheywererunningfortheirlives.
Butclearlythismodistewasdifferent.
“Sheprobablyhasaquestionabouttheball.”
Chibalepaced.“Isenthertheinformation.ThetimeIwouldcollecther,acopyoftheinvitationwiththedate,andsoon.Shemustwanttocryoff.”
“It’snotawedding.”
“Anditneverwillbeatthisrate.”
Rowdensat.“Areyouthinkingofmarryingher?”
“Whowouldn’twanttomarryher?She’sabrilliantbusinesswomanandbeautifulbesides.Andthataccent.CanyouimagineherwhisperinginFrenchinbed?”HelookedatRowden.“Don’timaginethat.”
Rowdenscowled.“IhavenodesiretoimagineyouinbedwithMadameRenauldoranyotherwoman.Butifthat’swhatyouwant,whynotbebold?”
“Iwasbold.Iinvitedhertotheball.”
“She’samodiste,notadebutante.Idoubtshecareshowwellyouwaltz.Tellherwhatyouwant.Seduceherwithkissesandsweetwordsortellheryouintendtomakeheryourwife.Ifshesaysno,thenyouneedn’twastemoreofyourtime.”
“Ifshesaysno,I’llneverrecover.”
Rowdenstaredathim.“Whothedevilareyou?I’veneverseenyouactlikethis.She’sawoman,Chibale.”Rowdenstood.“Thereareahundredmorejustlikeher.”
“Youwouldsaythat,”Chibaleshotback.“Youkickawomanoutofyourbedalmostasfastasyougetherinit.Whatwouldyouknowoflove?”
Rowdenclenchedhisfists.“Getout.”
Chibaleheldhishandsup.“I’msorry.Ididn’tmeanthat.Iforgot.”
“Gotoyourmodiste.”
“Rowden—”
“Hereistheorangejuiceyourequested,sir,”Trogdonsaid,carryingatraywithaglassoforangeliquid.
Rowdengrittedhisteeth,hisgazestillonChibale.“Iaskedforadrink,Trogdon.Theorangesareforthemorning.”
“But,sir,youalwayshavetoastinthemorning,”Trogdonsaid.Thiswastrue,andRowdenwastootiredtoargue.Hetooktheglassofjuicefromthetray.“Thankyou,Trogdon.I’lldineinafewminutes.Mr.Okorowasjustleaving.”
“Verywell,sir.Mr.Okoro,Iwillshowyouout.”
“Icanseemyselfout,Trogdon.”Hemadeashooinggesturewithhishand,andwithahuff,Trogdondeparted.RowdenhopedhewouldputthedinnerCookhadmadeonthetable,buttherewasnoguarantee.
“Ispokewithoutthinking,”Chibalesaid.“I’moverwrought.”
“It’sfine,”Rowdensaid,sinkingbackintohischair.Theangerhadlefthim.He’dbeenangryforyears,andhe’dburnedwithitforsolongthathehadverylittleleft.Chibaleoftensaidthiswaswhatmadehimagoodfighter.Othermenbecameangryattheiropponents.Rowdenwascoolandfocused.
Chibalesataswell,danglinghisarmsbetweenhislegs.“YoureallythinkIshouldtellherhowIfeel?”
“Lifeisshort,”Rowdensaid.“Tooshortforgames.Tooshorttobewithoutthepersonyoucarefor.Ifyoucareforher,tellher.”
“Iwill.Rowden,I—”
Rowdenraisedahand.“I’mfine.I’llseeyouatMostyn’sinthemorning,yes?”
“Yes.”Heeyedtheorangejuice.“I’llbringmoreoranges.”
RowdennoddedandwhenChibalehadgone,drankthejuice.Hedidn’tevenlikeoranges.
***
HALFANHOURLATER,ChibaleknockedonthebackentranceofMadameRenaud’s.Inhernote,shehadaskedthathenotusethefrontdoor,lesthebeseen.Thebackdooropenedalmostimmediately,andMadameRenauldstoodinthedoorway,holdingalamp.Shepeeredout,lookingintothealleybehindtheshop.Apparentlysatisfiedwithwhatshesaw,shemovedasidetoallowhimentrance.
“Thankyouforcoming.”
Chibalelookedaroundtheroomhe’dentered.Itwasaworkroom,withtablesplacedagainstthewallsandchairssetateach.Shelvesofthreadandfabricrosetotheceilingandseveraldressformswereswathedinwomen’sfinefashions.
“Ineedyourhelp,”MadameRenauldsaid.“Come,Mr.Okoro.Wecanspeakinhere.”Sheledhimtoasmallroomwithaviewoftheworkroomandindicatedacouch.Hesatandwonderedifshewouldsitbesidehimorbehindthedesk.Thisroomwasnotsoneatastheworkroom.Severalpaperswerescatteredoverthedesk,andsomedrawingsaswellaspiecesofcharcoalhadfallenontheflooraroundtherubbishbin.Theparrothehadseenintheshowroomwhenhe’dcomewithBethaniealsoperchedonthedesk,herheadunderherfeathers,tuggingandfluffingthem.
“CallmeChibale,”hesaid,focusingonheragain.Sheworeadarkpurpledresswithblacktrimandlookedeffortlesslyelegant.
“Chibale?”shesaid,headcocked.HelikedthewayherFrenchaccentsoundedonhisname.
“Mygivenname,”hesaid.“Ifyouneedhelp,andwe’retomeetinprivatelikethis,itseemswemightaswellusegivennames.”
Sheconsideredforamoment.“Verywell.IamThérèse.”Sheindicatedamarquetrycabinetbehindherdeskandopenedit.“Wouldyouliketeaorsomethingstronger?”
“Nothingforme.”
“DoyoumindifIpartake?Ithasbeenalongday.”
“Notatall.”Herose.“SitandIwillpourforyou.”
Shewavedahand.“Theeseesnotnecessary.”
“Iinsist,”hesaid.Sheinclinedherheadandsatonthecouch,placingherselfonthefaredgefromwherehehadbeensitting.
“Sherry,si’lvousplait,”shesaid.
“Pourthesherry,”theparrotsaid,startlingChibale,whohadalmostforgottenher.
“Oh,hush,”Thérèsetoldthebird,andshewentbacktoherfluffing.
Chibaleliftedaclean,heavycrystalglass,foundthesherry,andpouredheragenerousportion.Hebroughtittoherandsatonthecouchagain.Hisheartwasstillpoundingandhisinsidesshakingwithnerves,buthe’dmanagedtocalmthemenoughtoactmorehimself.Rowdenwasright.Heshouldbeboldandconfident.MeekandhesitantwereunlikelytraitstoattractawomanlikeThérèseRenauld.
“Iassumethisisnotabouttheball,”hesaid.
“The—no.”
Chibaletriednottolethisfaceshowhisdisappointment.Shehadforgottenabouttheball.Thatwasagoodsign,wasitnot?Thatmeantshestillplannedtoaccompanyhim.Didn’tit?“Youreceivedmynotewiththedetails?”heasked.
“Oui.Iamquitelookingforwardtoit,butIneedyourhelpwithadifferentmatter,monsieur.Iteesthematterofmyassistant,Phaedra.”
“Ah.”Chibaleunderstoodimmediately.“Theonewhois…shallwesayinvolvedwiththeBlackPlague.”
“Oui.Shecametoworktheesmorningbruisedandbattered.Idonotknowthefullextentofherinjuries,butanymanwhohitsawomaneesamonster.”
“Iquiteagree.Sheshouldstayawayfromhim.”
“Iteesnotthatsimple.”
No,ofcourseitwasn’t.“Heneedsabitofincentivetoleaveheralone.”
“Oui.TheeswordIlike.Incentiveeeswhatheneeds.”Shesippedhersherryandeyedhimfromunderherlashes.“Anddoyouknowanyonewhocanprovidetheesincentive?”
“IbelieveIdo.”Chibalestrokedhischin.“He’sfightingattheCockandBulltomorrownight.”
“Finelace,”theparrotinterjected.
Chibalesmiled.“NotmuchlaceattheCockandBull.We’llhaveawordwiththePlagueafterhismill.”
“Justaword?”Thérèseasked,raisingherbrows.
“Inamannerofspeaking,”Chibalesaid.“Wordsdon’talwayshavetobegivenverbally.Actionssometimesspeaklouder.Isn’tthatwhattheysay?”
“Ihaveheardthatsaying.”Shereachedforwardandsetherglassonthedesk.“Iappreciateyourhelp,monsieur—Chibale.”
“Ionlywishyouhadaskedsooner,Thérèse.”Sherose,andherosetoo.“BeforeIgo,Iwashopingtosaysomethingmoretoyou.”
“Finelace!”
Chibaleignoredthebird.
“Abouttheball?”Thérèseasked.
“No.AboutwhyIaskedyoutotheball,Thérèse.”
Herdarkeyesmethis.“Andwhyeesthat,monsieur?”
“Iaskedyou,”hesaid,movingclosertoher,“becauseIadmireyou.BecauseIfindyouquitethemostremarkablewomanIhaveeverknown.”
“Youhardlyknowme.”
“Ihopetorectifythat,”Chibalesaid.“ButIbelievethebetterIknowyou,themoremyregardwillgrow.”
“Wewillsee,”shesaid.“ShallIshowyouout?”
“Ifyou’llpermitme,”Chibalesaid.“IthoughtIwouldillustratemyfeelingswithanaction.Ithinkitmightbeclearerthanmywords.”Hiswordshadseemedtostickinhisthroat,anditwasagoodthingelsehemighthavegushedabouthowbeautifulshewasandhowmuchheadoredher.
“Goahead,”shesaid.“Youhavemademecurious,monsieur.”
“Chibale,”hemurmured.Heliftedahandandgingerlyplaceditonhershoulder,drawingherclosertohim.Thescentofherenvelopedhim,muskyandsophisticated,likethefinestperfume.Shelookedathim,theheightdifferencebetweenthemonlyfourorfiveinches,andhebroughthishandtohercheek.Herskinwassoftandburnishedtoadeepgoldenbrowninthelamplight.Givingherplentyoftimetochangehermind,heloweredhishead.Ratherthanmoveback,shestoodwhereshewasandevenleanedforwardandintothekiss.Hislipsslidoverhers,hisheartbeatingsohardthathefearedshewouldhearit.
Herlipswerefullandsolushasheexploredthem,kissinghergentlybutwithundisguisedpassion.Hermouthpartedslightly,andhetastedthesherryshe’dbeendrinking.Hewantedmoreofher,wantedtoslidebetweenthoselipsandcupthebackofherhead,kissingherdeeply.
Shewantedmoreaswell.Shegraspedhiscoatandherfisttightenedonthematerial,bringinghimcloser.Hisbodytoldhimtolowerhertothecouch.Hismindtoldhimtoleaveherwantingmore.
Slowly,hewithdrewandlookeddownather.Hereyesopened,herdarkgazeunfocusedandherlashesloweredseductively.
“Ihopethatmakesmyfeelingsforyouclear,”hesaid,voicelow.
“Iambeginningtounderstand,”shesaid.“Butperhapsanotherdemonstrationwouldillustrateyourpointevenbetter.”Shepressedintohim,andChibalewassorelytempted.Hewasmoretemptedthanhe’deverbeen.Buthewantedmorefromthiswomanthanatumbleonthecouch.Hewantedherheartandherhand.
“Finelace!Pourthesherry!”thebirdsaid,andChibalewasgladthebirdhadbrokenthemood.
“Tomorrow,”hesaid.“Afterthefight.I’llcometoyou,”hesaidandsteppedback.
Shegavehimalonglookthennodded.“TheCockandBull,yousay?”
Alarmbellsranginhishead.“Youshouldn’tcome.Badareaoftown.Questionablecrowd.”
“Youwillbethere?”
“Ihavetobe.Myclientisfighting.Ifhewins,wegotoHungerfordforamillwiththeGerman.”
“TheGermanwhobeathimbefore?Whywouldhefighthimagain?”
Chibalespreadhisarms.“Forhonor,ofcourse.”
“Iamsurethewinningpurseeesalsoquitelarge.”
Chibalegrinned.“Thattoo.”HegaveThérèseabow.“I’llcometoyoutomorrowandletyouknowhowourdiscussionsproceed.”
“Ilookforwardtoit,monsieur.”Sheledhimoutofherchamberandtothebackdoor,unlockingitandopeningitforhim.“Bonsoir.”
“Aurevoir.”
“Aurevoir,monsieur.”Andsheclosedthedoor.Chibaleleanedagainstthebuildingandputhishandtohisheart.Nine
TheCockandBullwasteemingwithpeople—theFancy,theywerecalled—thoughthenamedidnotfitthismotleygroup.Modestydidnotknowifshehadeverseensomanypeople.Thesoundandsmellofthem,afterthequietandcleanscentsofanightanddayatLadyLorraine’shouse,wasalmostshocking.ShewasthankfulMr.Mostynhadaccompaniedthem—notthatthey’dhadanychoiceaboutit.Heenteredthetavernandpeoplemadeapathforhim.Afewpeopleseemedtoknowhimandmovedforwardasthoughtogreethim,butwithonelook,thosementhoughtbetterofitandmovedaway.
ModestyfollowedMr.MostynandLadyLorrainetoatablenearwheretheboxingareahadbeensetup.Itwasasquareofabouteightfeetthathadbeenropedoffwithstakesineachcorner.Twomenwerealreadyinsidetheropes,swingingateachother,butModestydidnotrecognizethem.ThetableMostynhadchosenwasoccupied,butwhenMostynstoodoverthem,themenwho’dbeensittingthereliftedtheirdrinksandmoved
LadyLorraineremovedhercloakandlaiditoverherchairandmotionedforModestytodothesamewiththecloakshehadborrowed.Sheleanedclosetobeheard.“Ifyoudrapethecloakoverthechairbeforeyousitonit,yourdresswillstayclean.”
Modestynodded.Shereachedforthetiesatthecloak’sthroatandthenhadtotakeadeepbreath.Whenshe’dputonthedarkbluedressinherchamberatLadyLorraine’shome,shehadfeltratherdaringinit.LadyLorrainehadassuredherthebodicewasmodest,butModestyhadneverwornanythingwhereherneckshowed,nottomentionhercollarbone.Insteadofbeingshapeless,thedresshada“waist”justbeneathherbreastsandthefabrictherewasfittedtoshowherfigure.Thehemhadtobealteredslightlysoasnottodragonthegroundandthesleeveswereabitlongaswell,butthey’dbeeneasilytuckedandpinnedunder.Herarmswerecoveredaswereherlegs.Butshestillfeltexposedwhensheopenedthecloakandlaiditonthechair.
Modestystartedtoputahandoverthepalefleshatherneckthenresistedandsat,placingherhandsinherlap.
“WhendoesLordRowdenbox?”LadyLorraineasked.
“Last,”Mostynsaid.
“Ofcourse.”OneofthemenintheringhittheotherquitehardinthefaceandbothLadyLorraineandModestyshrankback.LadyLorraineturnedtoModesty.“Youlookverypretty.Ican’tbelieveyouwerehidingthatglorioushairunderacap.YoushouldhaveallowedNelltohaveherwaywithyou.”
Modestyputahandtoherhair,whichhadbeenarrangedinasophisticatedupsweep.LadyLorraine’smaidhadwantedtoleavesomeofitdownandfallingoverhershoulderincurls,butModestyhadrefused.
“Isn’tthisexciting?”LadyLorraineasked,lookingaboutthem.“IconfessIdonotlikeboxingmuch,butlookatallofthesepeople.Someofthemappearquitedangerous.”
“Ihavenodoubt,”Modestysaid,havingbeeninhershareoftavernsovertheyears.“WearefortunatetohaveMr.Mostynwithus.MayIaskyouaquestion?”
“Ofcourse.”
“WhydoyourefertoMr.PayneasLordRowden?Yousaidearlierhisfatherwasanidiot.”
“I’mnotsureIshouldtellyouifhehasn’tdivulgedit,butIsupposeit’snosecret,”LadyLorrainesaid.“HeisayoungersonoftheDukeofComerford.IknowhimasLordRowdenbecausemyfatherisaduke,andwewereoftenthrowntogetherinSocietywhenwewereyounger.ButLordRowden’sfatherdisownedhimwhenhemarried.”
Modesty’sheartclenchedtightly,anditseemedtheroombegantoswim.“Why?”sheasked,carefulnottobetrayherfeelings.
“ThewomanhemarriedwasCatholic.Ibelievehisfatherrefusedtoconsenttothematch,andhemarriedheranyway.”Mr.Mostynputaglassofwaterinfrontofherandshesmiledathimandsippedit.AserverputaglassinfrontofModestyaswell.
“Butthatwasalongtimeago.Itwasbeforehewentintothearmyandbecameawarhero.Weallthoughthisfatherwouldforgivehimafterthat,butapparentlyevenhissondistinguishinghimselfinbattlewasnotenoughforComerford.”
Thecrowdroaredasoneofthemeninthearenawentdownanddidnotrise.Oneofthemeninhiscornerrushedtothesideoftheropesandyelledathimtogetup,buthecouldonlyclimbtohiskneesandthenwentbackdownagain.Theumpirethentookthestandingboxer’shand,raisedit,anddeclaredhimthevictor.
Thenoiselevelinthetavernbecametooloudforspeaking,andModestysatbackandtriedtodigestwhatshe’djustbeentold.NotonlywasMr.Paynethesonofaduke,hewasawarhero.Butmoreimportantthaneitherofthosematters,Mr.Paynewasmarried.Modestyhadn’tquiteadmittedtoherselfthatshewasattractedtoMr.Payne.Itwasn’tthesolereasonshehadcometothematchthisevening,butithadcertainlybeenafactor.Shewantedtoseehimagain.Shewantedtoseethelookhe’dgiveher—thatonethatmadehercheeksfeelwarmandherbellyflutter.
Buthewasmarried.Heshouldn’tbelookingatherlikethat,andsheshouldnotwanthimto.ShewouldhaveaskedLadyLorrainetotakeherhomerightthen,butaglanceattheladyshowedModestyshewassmilingatherhusbandandquiteobviouslyenjoyingherself.Modestywouldn’tcutherenjoymentshort.TheladyhadspenthourswritingletterstoinquireafterAugustaRyan,andthenshe’dspentevenmoretimehelpingModestydressforthisevening.
Twomoremenwereenteringtheboxingarea,bothofthemdark-skinnedandshirtless.ThetavernownerintroducedoneasJohn“TheMighty”Jonesandtheotheras“TheBlackPlague.”Modestyfrowned.Whatsortofsobriquetwasthat?
“Whatthedevilareyoudoinghere?”avoiceaskedfrombehindher.ModestylookedupandintothegreeneyesofRowdenPayne.HisgazeshiftedfromhertoMr.Mostyn.“Youbroughther?”
LadyLorraineroseandextendedherhand.“Oh,howlovelytoseeyou,LordRowden.Yes,theweatherisquitecoldthisevening.Wearefine,thankyouforasking.”
“Youshouldn’tbehere,”hetoldher.
Mostyncrossedhisarmsoverhislargechestandnoddedinagreement.
LadyLorrainescowled.“Andwhyisit,exactly,youthinkyouhavetherighttotellmewhereIcanandcannotgo?”
“Fine,”Mr.PaynesaidandturnedhisgazebackonModesty.“Whyareyouhere?Andwhatareyoudoingdressedlikethat?”
Modestylookeddownatherdressandwishedshecouldpullthecloakoverherselfagain.Ithadbeenamistaketocome.Shehadn’tknownaboutthewife,andnowitwasobviousthatMr.Paynedidnotwantherhere.
“Shelooksverypretty,”LadyLorrainesaid.
“That’stheproblem,”Mr.Paynesaid.“Halfthemeninthisplacearestaringather.”
Modestylookedaround,butnooneseemedtobelookingather.Mosteveryonewasstaringatthefight,althoughafewpeopleclosebywerewatchingthesceneattheirtable.
“Ifyouaredeterminedtobedisagreeable,thengobacktoyourcorner,”LadyLorraineordered.
“Ican’t,”Mr.Paynesaid.“Chibalewantsawordwithhim.”HecockedhisheadtowardtheonetheycalledtheBlackPlague.“I’msupposedtomakesurehedoesn’tleavethisway.”
“What’stheproblem?”Mr.Mostynasked.
“Hehasaroughhandwithwomen,”Mr.Payneanswered,andhisgazeflickedtowardacorneroftheroom.ModestyrecognizedMr.Okorothere,sittinginachairandspeakingtoabeautifullydressedwoman,whowascrying.Thewomanlookedupbriefly,andModestygaspedwhenshesawthewoman’seyewasswollenandred.Shehadobviouslybeenhit.
Modestyfelttheheatofindignationriseinher.Thebloodseemedtorushtoherface.
“Thatmanhither?”sheasked,indicatingthelargeboxerinthering.
“Yes,”Mr.Payneanswered,hisgazeflickingtoherthenawayagain.Heobviouslydidnotlikewhathesaw,butthensheshouldbegladofthatashewasmarriedandshouldnotbelookingather.
“Butheissomuchbiggerthanshe,”Modestysaid.
Mr.Paynenodded,stillnotlookingather.“Ibelievetheplanistomakehimawareofthatissue,amongothers.”Hegrabbedanearbychairandsatbesideher.“Iwon’ttroubleyouwithmypresencelong,MissBrown.Ijustwanttomakesurehedoesn’tslipawaybeforeChibaleandIcanhavea…word.”Heturnedhisattentiontotheboxingmatchforafewmoments,andthatgaveModestyachancetoadmirehisprofile.Hehadastrongchinandforehead.Hisnosewasnotquiteperfectlystraight.Sheassumedithadbeenbrokenatsomepoint,butitwasstillabetternosethanmanymenshehadknown.Heglancedather,andshequicklypretendedtobeimmersedinthefight.
“Didyoureadtheletters?”heasked,whenthemenhadgonetotheircornersforthirtyseconds.
“Idid,”shesaid.“Theywere…notwhatIexpected.”
“Isee.”
Shecouldfeelhisgazeonherface,obviouslytryingtoreadheremotions.“Theletterswerenotfrommyaunt.”Theyhadnotbeenfromhermothereither,butshedidnotwanttomentionthat.
“LadyLorraineismakinginquiriesintoyouraunt’swhereabouts?”Mr.Payneasked.
“Yes.She’sbeenverykind.”
“Would’vebeenkindernottobringyouhere,”hemuttered.Themillbeganagain,andthenoiselevelrosewiththemen.Mr.Paynehadtoleancloser.Modestycouldnothelpbutcatchthescentofhim—somethingdarkandmuskymixedwiththesmellsofbeerandalefromthetavern.“Didthelettersgiveanyindicationofwhereyourfathermightbe?”heasked.
Shehadthoughtofthat.Modestyhadconsideredthatperhapsherfatherhadgonetobewithhisotherfamily.Butcertainly,hewouldhavewrittentoassureherhewaswell.Hewouldnotabandonher.Still,whatifthisotherwomanknewsomethingshedidnot?Itmightbehelpfultoseekherout.
Modestywouldhavehadtoreadthelettersagainandpickoutplacesthey’dreferenced.Shehadn’thadthestomachtodosoyet.Truthfully,shewasn’tcertainshewantedtoseeherfatheragain.Itmightbebettertofindherauntfirst.HeraunthadlovedhermotherandmighttakeModestyin.
“Theymight,”sheansweredfinally.Andthenbecauseshewasthinkingofhermother—thinkingofscornedwomen—shemadeashowoflookingabout.“Isyourwifeheretonight,Mr.Payne?”sheasked.
Hestilled.ToModesty,itfeltasthoughtheentiretavernstilled,thoughofcourse,noonebuthecouldevenhearher.Quiteobviously,hehadn’tlikedwhatheheard.Itwasasthoughadooropenedandthecoldnightairrushedinside.
“Mywife?”heasked.“Didshetellyouabouther?”HenoddedtowardLadyLorrainewhowaswatchingthefightwithhereyescoveredbutherfingersspread.
“Yes.IaskedwhyshecalledyouLordRowden,andshetoldmethestory.”
“Itappearssheforgotakeypart.”
“What’sthat?”
“Mywifeisdead.”Heroseandwalkedaway.
***
THEFIGHTINTHEARENAwenton,butforonce,Rowdendidn’tseeit.Hedidn’tknowwhowaswinning,andhedidn’tcare.Hehadn’tcaredsincehesawEwanMostynwalkinwithhiswifeononearmandabeautifulwomantrailingbehind.Butshewasn’tjustabeautifulwoman.ItwasModestyBrown.
Rowdenhadcaughtglimpsesofherbeautybefore.Whenhe’dbeenmesmerizedbyhereyesforlongenoughtoallowtheGermantoplantafacer,he’dgottenapeek.Yesterdaymorninginhisbedchamberwhenpiecesofherhairhadcomeloose,he’dcaughtanotherglimpse.Butlookingathertonight,herbeautyhithimlikeapunchinthechest.Hehadn’tseemedabletobreathe.
Andperhapsitwashisimagination,butitseemedtherestofthetavernhadhelditsbreathasthebeautywiththeravishingredhairmadeherwaythroughtheswathofpeopleEwanwilledoutofhisway.
Andthenthey’dreachedthetableandMissBrownhadremovedthecloakshewore,revealingahalfmoonofskinbelowherthroat,andRowdenhadmadehiswaytothetabletowardoffeveryothermanwhohadthesameidea.Itwasn’teventhattheamountofskinsheshowedwasscandalous.Itwasfartoomodestforavenuelikethisone,wheremoreoftheladies’chestsspilledoutoftheirbodicesthanwascontainedinside.Itwasjustthatcombinationofpaleskinanddarkbluefabricpulledtautoverperfectlyshapedbreasts.Sometimeswhatwasonlyhintedatwasfarmoretantalizingthanwhatwasondisplay.
ButRowdenhadquicklyrememberedhimself.ThementionofMaryhaddampenedhislust.Mary,whohadbeendeadfortenyearsnow,andwhohesometimesbelievedwasonlyafigmentofhisimagination.Hewasadifferentpersonthantheimpetuousboywho’dmarriedher.Hewasamannow,andamanwhoknewMissBrownwasnolightskirttobetrifledwith.AndRowdendidn’twantanymorefromawomannow.Perhapsever.
ChibaleroseandstoppedRowdenbeforehecouldsitbackatthetablewherethey’dbeenwatchingthefighting.MadameRenauld’sassistantsattherenow,herheaddowntohidethebruisedskinnearhereye.Itwouldbepuffyandswolleninthemorning.“Ifinallygothertoadmitit,”Chibalesaid,jerkinghisheadtowardthetable.AssoonastheBlackPlaguehadenteredthetavern,ChibalehadspottedPhaedraandpointedherouttoRowden.Shehadcoweredbehindthebigprizefighter,keepingherheaddownandherselfoutoftheway.SheremindedRowdenofstreetdogshehadseenwhoslinkedalongbackalleys,hopingnottocallattentiontothemselveslesttheybekicked.
“Admitwhat?Weallknowhedidthattoher.”Hecuthiseyestothesquare,wherethemenwererestingforthirtyseconds,andtheBlackPlaguecastadarklookatChibaleandthentheassistantattheirtable.
“Doyouknowwhy?”
“He’sanarsehole?”
“Thatandbecauseshetriedtocallitoff.Shetoldhimshedidn’twanttoseehimanylongerandlockedherselfinherflat.Hebrokethedoordown,beather,rapedher—shesaystookliberties—andmadeherdressandcometonight.”
Rowdenclenchedhisfists.HeknewathousandotherwomeninLondonlivedthatsamestorythisevening,butitstillangeredhim.Italwaysangeredhimwhenthestrongpickedontheweak.HisfirstfistfighthadbeenintheyardatEton.Hisopponenthadbeenabullywhokickedayoungerboy,causingtheladtotripandbloodyhisnose.SoRowden,whohadbeenbigforhisage,gavethebullyabloodynose.
ButitwouldtakemorethanabloodynosetostoptheBlackPlague.“Wantmetokillhim?”Rowdenasked,angryenoughthathewasonlyhalf-joking.
Chibalefrowned.“Iwantyoutostartpreparingforyourmill.”HetappedRowden’sforehead.“Uphere.I’lltakecareofhim.”
“Onyourown?Hisfriendswillhavehisback,andevenifyoudomanagetogivethemallwhatfor,he’llonlybreakherdoordownagaintomorrow.”
“Iknowsomeonewhowilltakeherinandkeepheroutofviewforafewdays.IthoughtTrogdoncouldtakeheroutofherewhileItakethearseholeoutbackforaword.”
Rowdenshookhishead.TrogdonwascurrentlysittingbesidetheBlackPlague’swoman,inspectingaglassofamberliquidwithafrown.Rowdenhadbroughtthemanservanttoactashiskneeman.Chibalewouldactasawatermanandgivehimadviceduringthematch.
“That’stoomuchresponsibilityforTrogdon.He’llmuckitup,andthissituationisdelicate.”
“Thenwhatdoyousuggest?IwantheroutofherebeforeItakehimon.”
Rowdenlookedabouttheroom,hisgazegoinginadvertentlytoMissBrownbeforeheforcedittomoveaway.“Whydon’tItakeherouttheback?I’llputherinahackneyto—”
“MadameRenauld’sshop.”
“Verywell.I’llwalkrightbytheropes,soheseesmewithher.Whenhisfightisover,he’llheadoutthatwaytolookforus.That’swhenyouhaveyour…discussion.I’llwaitforyouincaseyouneedmyhelp.”
Chibalenodded.“Iwon’tneedyourhelp,butit’sasoundplan.There’sstillanothermillbeforeyours.Itshouldbeenoughtimeforyoutogetbackandwarmedup.”
“Agoodskirmishalwayswarmsmeup,”Rowdensaidwithasmile,andhefeltthatoldburstofenergyflowthroughhim.Latelyamillhadn’tgivenhimthatexcitement,butafighttoprotectawoman—thatwasalwaysapleasure.
HeandChibalereturnedtothetableandTrogdonsethisglassdown.“Isittime,sir?”heasked.
“No.Staywhereyouareandholdthetable.”
Trogdongrippedtheedgesofthetablewithbothhands.Rowdensighed.“Imean,don’tallowanyoneelsetosithere.”Rowdenlookedatthewomanwithonehandcoveringherswellingeye.“Miss—”
“YoucancallmePhaedra,”shesaidpeeringathimwithhergoodeye.“AndIknowwhoyouare—TheRoyalPayne.”Shegaveasmallsmile,andRowdenwincedwhenhesawthecutonherlipsplit.
“YoucancallmeRowden,”hesaid.“Ourmutualfriend”—hegesturedtoChibale—“indicatedyoumightbemorecomfortableelsewhere.Wouldyouallowmetoputyouinahackneyandpaythefare?”
“He’llonlyfindmeifIgohome.”Hergazestrayedtothefightintheropedarea,andtherewasfearinthewayhereyeswidened.
Chibaleleanedoverandwhisperedsomethingtoher.ShelookedatRowdenagainthennoddedherhead.“Areyoureadynow,sir?”sheasked.
“Morethanready,MissPhaedra.”Hewenttoher,pulledoutherchair,andofferedhisarm.Shetookitandturnedtowardthenearestexit.Rowdensteeredhertowardtheropedoffareainstead.Shegavehimaterrifiedlook,andhegaveherasteadyoneback.“Thisway,”hesaid.
Sheletoutashakybreathandallowedherselftobeledinfrontoftheropes.Shekepthergazeonthefloor,butRowdenturnedhisheadtowatchthemill.TheBlackPlaguewasstaringatthetwoofthem,hateinhiseyes.Amomentlater,heissuedadarttohisopponent,whoswayedbutstayedonhisfeet.AndthenRowdenwasthroughthecrowdsandinthekitchens.Thecookgavehimalook,openedhismouthtoscold,andthenthoughtbetterofit.RowdentossedthemanacoinandledMissPhaedraoutthebackdoor.
Thenightairbitintohisoverlywarmskinlikeatiger.MissPhaedraheldanoutergarment,andshedroppedRowden’sarmandtriedtopulliton.Clearly,shewasbruisedalloverasshestruggled.Hehelpedherdonthegarment,andwhentearsstreameddownhercheeks,hehandedherahandkerchief.“Noneofthatnow,”hesaid,pattinghershoulderawkwardly.“You’restrongerthanyouthink.”
“Idon’tfeelverystrongtoday.”
“You’vemadeitthisfar,”hesaid.“NowweputyouinahackneyandsendyoutothisMadameRenauld.Chibalewillcomecheckonyoulater.”
Thebackdoorburstopen,andEwancamespillingfromit,hiswifeandMissBrownrightbehindhim.“Idiot,”Ewansaid.MissPhaedragasped,butRowdenputahandonherarm.
“They’refriends,”hesaid.“Usually.”
“Doyouwanttodie?”Ewanasked.
Rowdenmadeashowoflookingathisshoes.“Ifthedevilwantstodance,I’mmorethanready.”
EwangesturedbacktowardtheCockandBull.“He’sinarage,beatingthatmanbloody.”
MissPhaedragaspedandtensed.Rowdenshrugged.“Thentheplanisworking.Ewan,stopahackneyforme,willyou?Thisladyhasanotherappointmenttonight.”
EwanlookedatPhaedra,assessedthesituation,thenstalkedtowardthefrontofthetavern.LadyLorraineseemedwinded,herwidegazegoingfromherhusband’sretreatingformtoMissPhaedraandbackagain.ButMissBrown’sbrowswerepulledtogetherinalookofconcern.
“Areyouwellenoughtotravelonyourown?”sheasked.“ShouldIgowithher?”
Rowdenalmostrejectedtheidea,butMissPhaedrawasinmorepainthansheallowedthemtosee.Hehadgonefromtouchingherarmtocomforthertoholdingherup.“Doyoumind,MissBrown?”heasked.“IwillcomefetchyoulaterandreturnyoutoLadyLorraine’s.”
“Idon’tmindatall.Wherearewegoing?”
“Myemployer’sshop,”MissPhaedrasaid.“MadameRenauld.”
“Ithoughtyoulookedfamiliar,”LadyLorrainesaid,comingforward.“Whodidthistoyou?Thefighter?”
“Let’stalkaboutitlater,”RowdensaidasEwancamebackandgesturedtothemtocomewithhim.“He’llbeouthereassoonashisfightisover,andI’dratherweweren’tallstandingaround.”
“Lorrie!”Ewancalled,andsheliftedherskirtsandfollowedhim.He’dstoppedtwohackneys,andheopenedthedoorofoneandgesturedtoRowden.Thenheledhiswifetotheother,hadabriefdiscussionwithher,andputherinthesecond.Hewassendinghiswifeaway,andRowdenwasgladofit.IfthingsdidnotgoasChibalehoped,therecouldbeariot.Whoknewwhatmighthappenwhenmenweredrunkandexcitedbyshowsofviolence?
RowdenhandedMissPhaedraintothefirsthackneythenMissBrown.Heheldherhandalittlelongerthanwasnecessary,andwhenshelookedbackathim,hepressedsomecoinsintoherhand.Shelookeddown.“Thisismorethanthefare.”
“Iknow,butjustincaseyouneedit.”
Shesqueezedhishand,andthesimplegesturemadehishearttighten.Hepushedthefeelingaway.Hedidnotwanttheseemotions.He’dallowedhisemotionstorulehimoncebefore,andhe’dlosteverything.Neveragain.
Hereleasedherhand,steppedback,andclosedthedoor.ThenhetoldthedrivertotaketheladiesdirectlytoMadameRenauld’s.
Thejarveypeereddownathim.“She’llbeclosedthislate,guv.”
“That’snotyourconcern.SeethemtheresafelyorI’llcomelookingforyoutomorrow.”
“Noneedforthreats,guv.I’llgetthemthere.”Hemadeasoundandthehorsestartedaway.Ewancametostandbehindhim.
“Chibalewantsaprivatediscussionwiththearsehole,”Rowdensaid.
Ewanshrugged.
“ThewayIseeit,hecanhavehisdiscussion,butwecanalsoputinaword.”
Ewanflexedafistthesizeofaboulder.“Ifindmyselfwithplentytosay.”
Rowdenputanarmaroundhisshoulders,andthetwomenmadetheirwaybackbehindtheCockandBull,wherethesoundsofraisedvoicescouldalreadybeheard.Ten
Modestyhardlyheardwherethehackneywasheaded.She’dbeenshockedbytheconditionofthecryingwomanintheseatbesideher.She’dstartedoffacrossfromthewoman,whosenameshefoundoutwasPhaedra,andthenwhenitbecameclearthewomanwassobbingsilently,she’dmovedtositbesideher.
“You’resafehere,”Modestysaid,pattingherbackasshemightasmallchild’s.
Thewomanshookherhead.“I’llneverbesafe.He’llneverletmego.Hesaidhe’dkillmefirst.”
WhatwasModestysupposedtosaytothat?Itwasprobablytrue.“Mr.PayneandMr.Mostynwillmakesureheknowsyouareprotected.He’llleaveyoualone.”
“Mr.Payneisagoodman,”Phaedrasaid,raisinghertear-streakedface.Modestyhandedherahandkerchief.“Somanyofthemillingcoveshaveameanstreakinthem.Nothim.IthoughtJahleelwasthesame.Hewassogoodtomeatfirst.”
JahleelmustbetheChristiannameoftheBlackPlague,thoughitwashardtoseeanythingChristianaboutamanwhomadeawoman’sfacelookasswollenandbruisedasPhaedra’s.“You’resafenow.Youmadetherightdecisiontoleavehim.”
“Now.”Phaedragaveabitterlaugh.“Whataboutayearfromnow?Twoyears?What’stostophimfromwaitinguntilI’venoonearoundtoprotectmeandcomeformenextwinter?I’llneverbesafe.”
ModestyhadgoneonpattingPhaedra’sback,butthelumpinherthroatgrewsothatitbecamehardtobreathe.Howmanytimeshadshestoodwithherfatherandpreachedtofallenwomentoleavetheirevilways?Andhowmanytimeshadthewomenscoffedather?Afewhadevensaidthingslike,“Andwho’llhelpme?You?”
HerfatherhadalwaysansweredthatGodwouldhelpthem,butthewomenhadshakentheirheadsandwalkedaway.
They’dneededmorethanplatitudestosavethemfromalifeofpovertyandwhoring.Mosthadpimpswhoexpectedtobepaidelsethewomenwouldbebeatenwithinaninchoftheirlives.Theycouldn’tjustwalkawayandhopeGodwouldprotectthem.Wherewouldtheygo?Howwouldtheysurviveandfeedtheirchildren?HowridiculousModestyhadbeenandhowpresumptuous.Tostandonaboxandthinksheknewmoreaboutthosewomen’slivesthantheydid.
Andherfather…herfatherhadbeenlyingtheentiretime.He’dbeenpreachingagainstfornication,allthewhilepracticingithimselfforyears.She’dalwayslikedBiblestorieswhereGodhumbledthemighty,butitdidn’tfeelsogoodwhenshewasbeinghumbled.
“We’llthinkofsomething,”Modestysaid,butshehadnoideaifshecouldeverthinkofanything.Andifshecouldn’tfindherauntorherauntwouldn’ttakeherin,whatwastostopModestyfrombecomingjustlikethewomenshe’drailedagainstallthoseyears?Shehadnowaytoearnawage.Shecouldsew,butwouldthatmakeenoughtopayforahouseandfood?Andwhowouldprotectherifherlandlorddecidedhewantedtotakepaymentinanotherform?
Thehackneystopped,andModestypeeredoutthewindowatthedarkwindowsofashopwithasignaboveitreadingMadameRenauld’s.
“Wherearewe?”sheasked.
“Themodiste.Iworkhere.”PhaedraopenedthedoorandclimbedoutandModestyfollowed.
“CovesaidIwastomakesureyegotinsafely,”thejarveysaid.“SoI’llwaituntilyerin.”
PhaedrasteeredModestytotheshopdoor.“I’llgoinaroundtheback.Youwaithere,andI’llcomethroughtheshopandletyouin.”
Modestynoddedandstoodinthedoorway,shiveringwithcold.Itseemedhourspassedasshestoodinthedarkwiththegazeofthejarveyuponher,andthenfinallythedooropened,andawomanwhowasnotPhaedra,butwhowasdressedjustaselegantly,openedthedoor.“Comein,chérie.”ShewavedtothejarveythenclosedandlockedthedoorbehindModesty.
“Cometothebackwithme.Iwantnolightseeninthewindows.”
Modestyfollowedthewomanthroughashoplikethoseshehadpassedmanytimes.She’dalwaysstaredatthewindowsandtheexpensivehatsandlaceandfabrics.She’dneverbeeninside.Theplacesmelledoflavenderandfloorpolish.Severaltableswerespacedabouttheshopfloor,eachwithadizzyingassortmentofbeautifulthings—ribbonsandvelvetsanddressformsadornedwithlovelygowns.Modestycouldn’tseeverywellinthedimlight,andshehadtoforceherselftokeepwalkinginsteadofstoppingtotouchthesilksandsatinsandholdthemtohernose.
Finally,shewasledthroughacorridorandintoabackroom,whichwasmuchmoreausterewithwhitewallsandnoembellishment.Tableslinedthewalls,andeachwasaneatworkstation.Modestyunderstoodatoncethiswaswheretheseamstressesworked.Shesewedherownclothingandrecognizedthetoolsarrangedneatlyabouttheroom.
Aboyofabouttwelvehadmadeabedinthecorneroftheroomandwassitting,rubbinghiseyes.Modestysmiledathim,buthelookedannoyedtohavebeenrousedfromhissleep.Phaedrahadtakenaseatinoneofthechairsataworktable.TheelegantlydressedwomanturnedandstudiedModestyassheentered.“YouarePayne’swoman,oui?”
“We?”
“It’sFrenchforyes,”Phaedratoldher.“ThisisMadameRenauld.She’samodiste.”
Modestynoddedpolitelyatthemodiste.Shehaddarkhairpiledelegantlyontopofherheadwithasectiontrailingoverhershoulderinglossyblackcurls.ThiswassimilartothestyleLadyLorraine’smaidhadwantedtocreateforModesty.Shealmostwishedshe’dconsentedbecauseitwasanattractivestyle.Butevenifherhairhadbeensleep-tangled,thiswomanwouldhavebeenbeautiful.Shehadluminousskinburnishedthecolorofcopperinthelamplightandlargebrowneyeswitharchedbrowsthatseemedtohintatamusement.
“I’mnotMr.Payne’swoman,”Modestysaid.“Heis…”Shedidn’tknowhowtofinish.Whatwashetoher,exactly?
“Thateesapity,”themodistesaid.“Heeesahandsomeman.”ShelookedatPhaedra.“Butsometimeslookscanbedeceiving,oui?”ShekneltbeforePhaedra.“Youlookworsethanyoudidyesterday,mafille.”
“Itriedtoleavehim,”Phaedrasaid.“Itried,but…”Hervoicebroke,andshebegantosobagain.
MadameRenaulddidnotembracetheotherwomanorpatherbackasModestyhad.Instead,shestoodandstraightenedhershoulders.“Hewillnottouchyouagain.IfPayneandOkorodonotstophim,thenIhavemyownmethods.”
Modestycouldonlywonderwhatthosemightbeasthewomansaidnothingmore.Shewentintoanotherroomandreturnedamomentlaterwithafoldedpaper.“Boy,”shesaid,andthechildonthepalletroseandwalkedsleepilytoher.
“NameisTwig,”hemuttered.
“Twigeesnotaname.ItoldyoutogivemearealnameorIwillcallyouboy.Doyouhavearealname?”Shelookeddownatthechild,handsonherhips.
“NameisTwig,”thechildsaid.
MadameRenauldsighed.“Amanortwowillcomelatetonight.Theymaybetogetherorcomeseparately.Showthemtheespaperwhentheyknock.”
Theboytookthepaper.“HowamIsupposedtoknowit’sthemanyouwantandnotaruffian?”
“Ruffiansdonotknock,”MadameRenauldsaid.“Youcandothees,oui?”
“Alright.”
“Comewithmethen,”MadameRenauldsaid,gesturingtoModestyandPhaedra.“Youaresafehere,butwewillbesaferinmyapartments.Theyarenotfar.”
BeforeModestycouldconsiderwhethersheshouldstayhereorgowiththemodiste,thewomanwasalreadyshooingheroutthedoorandleadingtheothertwothroughawidealleylinedbydoorstoothershops.Onceonthestreet,sheledthemoveroneblockandthenintoabuildingandupaflightofstairs.Producingakeyfromherreticule,sheopenedthedoortoasmallentrywaywhereshehunghercoatandModesty’scloak.Theentrywayopenedintoanotherroom,aparlorofsortsthatModestysawmoreclearlywhenMadameRenauldlitalamp.Modesty’seyesmusthavewidenedbecausethemodistelaughed.“Haveyouneverseenasittingroom,chérie?”
“Notlikethis.”
Theroomwaspaintedasapphirebluewithcouchesandoneofthosechaiselonguesplacedinacozyarrangementonagoldrug.Thefurnishingswereinjeweltonesofrubyandamethystandthefabricsweresumptuousvelvetsandsatins.ItlookedaroomthatbelongedinthepalaceofKingDavid.
“Butwhatareyouwearing?”themodisteasked,comingclosertoinspectModesty’sdress.“Theesisnotagownfortheevening.Idonotthinkitwasmadeforyoueither.Thefiteesnotquiteright.”
“Afriendallowedmetoborrowit,”Modestysaid.“Myowndressismore…”Funereal?“Subdued.”
“Moresubduedthanthees?”MadameRenauldasked.“IfIweretodressyou,Iwouldputyouingreensorpurples.Youhavethecoloringforit.Ithinkyoucouldevendored.Yes,abold,deepred.Notscarletbuttheredofcurrantsorwine.”
Modestyshookherhead.“Icouldneverwearred.”
Themodisteliftedashoulder.“Weshallsee.Now,youmustmakeyourselfcomfortable.IwillputPhaedratobed.”
“Madame,no.That’snotnecessary,”Phaedrasaid,thoughshewaspracticallyasleeponherfeet.
“Noarguments,”themodistesaid.“Tobedwithyou.AndyouwillstaythereuntilItellyoutorise.Donoteventhinkofcomingtotheshoptomorrow.Ihavehalfamindtoclosefortheday.”
“ButMadame,theCountessofBlinnhasanappointment.”
“Ah,ofcourse.Wecannotdisappointthecountess.”
Theirvoicestaperedoffastheymovedintoanotherroomandthenbehindacloseddoor.Modestylookedaboutandtriedtodecidewheretosit.Shefinallydecidedonaplushchairupholsteredinemeraldvelvet.Itwasclosetothefire,andshetookthepokerandstirredituntilitcamebacktolife.Shewouldhaveaddedcoalastherewasafullbinnearby,butshedidnotknowifthemodisterationedhercoalandhadusedhersupplyfortheday.
Sheclosedhereyesandthoughtbackovertheeventsofthepastfewdays.LadyLorrainehadbeensokind.Herhusbandwasterrifyingasusual.AndMr.Payne.ItwashardnottoseeMr.Payneeverytimesheclosedhereyes.Hiseyeswerethegreenofthechairsheoccupied.Shehadn’tseenhimfight,buthe’dbeeninonlyacoatandlinenshirtattheCockandBull,andshehadseenthestronglinesofhisneckandwidthofhisshoulders.She’dwatchedhismouthashespokeandwonderedwhatitwouldbeliketokissthatmouth.
Shewouldneverknow.Shehadhurthimwiththementionofhiswife.She’ddonesoinadvertently.Shehadn’tknownthewomanwasdead.Andshecertainlyshouldn’tfeelaboutitasshedid—relieved?Almost…happy?
Buttherewasnopointinfantasizing.Ifshewasfortunate,shewouldfindheraunt.Ifshewerenot,shehadyearsofaworkhousetolookforwardto.
Orworse.
***
EWANPATTEDROWDENonthebackandsmiled.SinceoneofEwan’spatswasakintoablowfromaracingstallion,Rowdenhadtostrugglenottofallflatonhisface.“Justlikeoldtimes,eh?”Rowdensaid,smilingbackathisfriend.
Rowdensurveyedthethreemencrawlingawayonthedirtyground.TheBlackPlaguehadstartedthefightstrong,buthe’dbeentiredfromhismillinthetavernandhadn’tlastedlongagainstRowden.HistwofriendshadbeeneasilyknockeddownbyEwan,andthey’dwiselydecidedtostaydown.
RowdenwenttothePlagueandcrouchedbesidehim.“AsItoldyouearlier,Ithinkyouneedaholiday.DoyoupreferScotlandortheContinent?”
Themanturnedhisbruisedface—mostofthebruisingduetohisearlierfight—toglareatRowden.“TheContinent.”
“Myfriendherewillputyouonashiptonight.”Heleanedclosersonooneelsewouldhear.“AndifyouevercomebackandsomuchaspasswithinamileofMissPhaedra,I’llkillyoumyself.”
Hestoodandwipedhishandsonhistrousers.“He’dlikeaseavoyage,”hetoldEwan.“Canyouescorthimtothedocksandputhimonaship?”
“CanIhithimagain?”
“Notunlessheprovokesyou.”
Ewanslammedafistintohispalm.“Tooeasy.”
“Notasmuchchallengewithoutthesnipersshootingatus.”
Ewanlaughed,andRowdenshookhishead.Hewouldhaveneverthoughtonedaytheywouldbelaughingoverthetimesthey’dalmostbeenkilledinthewar.Atthetime,hehadn’tmindedbeinglabeledexpendable.Hewasthedisinheritedyoungersonofadukewiththreeolderbrothersandlittlechanceofeverinheritingthetitle.Mostmenstillwouldn’thavewantedtodie,butRowdenhadjustlosthiswife—thewomanforwhomhe’drelinquishedhisname,hisfamily,andhisposition.He’dlovedhermorethanlifeitself,anddeathseemedeasierthanlivinginthosedays.
NowhewasthankfulforthetimesEwanhadprotectedhisbackwhileNashcoveredthemwithhisrifle.HewasthankfulforallthetimesStratfordhaddevisedastrategythatsavedtheirlivesorPhineasnegotiatedformoreprovisionsorRafecollectedinformationthathelpedthemavoidambush.Itwasacold,darknightinFebruary,andhestoodinafilthyalleywithstingingknuckles,buthewasgladtobealive.
ThetaverndooropenedandChibalesteppedout.“Warmedup?”heasked,surveyingthemenontheground.
Rowdennodded.He’dalmostforgottenhestillhadamill.“Mostynwilltakeourfriendtothedocks.He’soptedforatripabroad.”
“I’lltakehim,”Chibalesaid.
“Buthemightprovokeme,”Ewanprotested,soundingdisappointed.
“Ifheprovokesme,I’llhithimforyou,”Chibalepromised.“CanyoucoachRowdeninthemillagainstStrong?”
“I’llbefine,”Rowdensaid.
“I’mnotleavingyouwithonlyTrogdonforsupport.”
“I’llstay,”EwantoldChibale.Hegavethemanonthegroundalastlookbeforeopeningthedoor.EwanfollowedRowdenbackthroughthekitchensandintothetavern,nowsofullofpeopletheymustbespillingoutintothestreets.Theropedoffareawasn’traised,andRowdencouldn’tseetheprogressofthemill,buthecouldhearthegroans,whichusuallysignifiedthebeginningoftheend.
Ewanstartedthroughthecrowd,andRowdenfollowed,buthe’dgonenomorethanthreeorfourstepswhenamansteppedinfrontofhim.“Mr.Notley.Ithinkyou’llfindyourmanoutside,lyinginthegutterwherehebelongs.”
Notley’sperpetuallyredfaceturnedredderstill.Hewasashortmanwithabulbousnose,unrulyblackhair,andbushysidewhiskers.WhenRowdenhadbeguntocatchthenoticeoftheFancyintheboxingworld,Notleyhadapproachedhimwithanoffertomanagehiscareer.Ithadbeenmoreofanorder,really—I’llbemanagingyoufromnowon
Rowdenhaddeclinedtheofferinlessthanpoliteterms.Afewmonthslater,hehadaskedChibaletomanagehim,andNotleyhadtakenitpersonally.They’dbeenonrockyfootingeversince.NowNotleyhadlostallhisprizefighterstoinjury,cheatingscandals,ordrink,andhehadonlytheBlackPlagueleft.Oratleasthehadbeforenow.
“Ifyouandthatblockheaddamagedhisrighthand—”Notleybegan.
“Hishandshouldbefine,buthewon’tbefightingforyouanytimesoon.He’stakinganunexpectedtripabroad.”
NotleystaredatRowden,hismouthdroppingopenandhisfaceturningsuchadarkshadeofcrimsonitvergedonpurple.“Why,you—”
“Stoprightthere,”Rowdensaid.“Noneedtosayanythingyou’llregret.Yourmanhadaheavyhandwiththeladies.Sinceyoudidnothingtocurbthosebadtendencies,someoneelsehadtostepin.”
“Isthisaboutthatwhorehe’sbeenseeing?”
“I’llhavetoaskyoutowatchyourlanguage.TheladyisemployedbyMadameRenauld,andMr.Okorowillnottakekindlytoanydisparagementofhernameorthatofheremployees.”
Rowdenwasstillfeelingexhilaratedfromthefight,andhe’dknownhewaspreeningjustabittoomuch.Butrightthenherealizedhe’dsaidtoomuch.Notley’seyesnarrowed,andRowdenwishedhe’dkepthismouthshut.Heshouldn’thavebroughtthemodisteintothis.
“Payne,”Ewansaidfrombehindhim.He’dobviouslyrealizedRowdenwasn’trightbehindhimandhadcomeback.“Let’sgo.”
“Right.”RowdengaveNotleyonelastlookandfollowedEwanbacktothetablewhereTrogdonwaslookingabout.Trogdonstood,lookedathischairthenunderthetablethenliftedaglassandcheckedunderit.“WhatareyouaboutTrogdon?”Rowdenasked,pullinghiscoatoffandsittingtoremovehisboots.Hewouldfightbare-knuckledandbarefoot,wearingonlybreechesandagrowl
“Ican’tfindtheoranges,sir,”Trogdonanswered,hisfacelongandhisexpressionregretful.“Isupposeyouwillhavetoletmego.”
Rowdencouldhavelethimgoadozentimesoverformorecausethanlosingorangesatamill.ButheeyedthebulgingpocketsofTrogdon’scoat.“Haveyoucheckedyourcoat,Trogdon?”
“Yes,sir.Iputtheminthepockets,butsomehowtheymadetheirwayoutagain.”
Rowdenpulledoffhisstockings.“Checkagain,Trogdon.”
Trogdonpattedhispockets,discoveredtheorangesandproducedonefromtheleftandonefromtheright.“Isay,sir!You’vefoundthem.”
“SoIhave.”
Thetavernownercamebythenandleaneddown.“Ready,sir?”
“I’mready.”Rowdenstoodandpulledhisshirtoverhishead.AbrahamStrongwasalreadyattheropesandRowdenlookedatEwan.“Areyoucoming?”
EwanwasstaringatTrogdonasthoughhecouldn’tquitebelievethemanwasseriousabouttheoranges,buthenoddedandfollowedEwantotheropes.Trogdonploddedafterhim,holdinganorangetightlyineachhand.Thetavernownerwasintroducingthefinalmillingcovesoftheevening,thoughRowdenandStrongneedednointroduction.Stillitgavethepatronsalastchancetoplacetheirwagers,andsincethewinnerwouldreceivenotonlytheprizemoneybutaportionofthestakes,Rowdenwasinnohurrytobegin.HeheldoutahandtoTrogdon,whoplacedanorangeinit.Afterpeelingit,RowdenateitinthreebitesthentookwaterfromthecupEwanoffered.
HespottedAidaninthecrowdandnoddedtotheman.Aidanwasashrewdinvestorwhorarelylostinspeculationorwagering,soRowdenhopedhisfriendhadbetonhim.BeingthatAidanwasamanwhoputmoneyabovejustabouteverythingelse,Rowdendidn’texpectloyalty.
Ewanleanedclose.“Hithimhardandendthisquickly.I’mreadytogohome.”
Rowdenwasreadytoo.HewouldhavetofetchMissBrownandtakehertoMostyn’sbeforehecouldgohome,buthefoundhimselfeagertoseeheragain.She’dstillbewearingthebluedress,andhewantedtoseeifshelookedasgoodinitasheremembered.Hewasallowedtolook,eveniflookingonlymadehimwishhecouldtouch.
RowdenclimbedundertheropesandmetStronginthemiddle.Thetwomenshookhandsandwenttotheircorners.RowdenhadnothingagainstStrong.Hewasafairfighterandagoodoneatthat.Theywereevenlymatched,butsomethingtoldRowdenhewouldwinthefight.MaybeitwasthebloodstillthrummingthroughhisveinsafterthesightofMissBrownandthewarmuptouslewiththeBlackPlague.MaybeitwastheconfidenceEwanexudedbehindhim.MaybeitwasthewayAidansatbackatatablebesidetheropesandcrossedhisarms,lookingatRowdensmugly,asthoughheknewRowdenwouldmakehimaprettypennytonight.
Whentheumpirerangthebell,Rowdenwasready.Hesteppedforwardshufflingabittokeephismuscleswarm.Stronglookedeagertoo.Thatwastheproblemwithfightinglast.Onewasimpatienttofinallyhaveacrackattheotherfellow.
Strongthrewatestpunch,missingRowden.Butthathadn’tbeenthepoint.ThepointwastoseehowRowdenreacted.Heleanedbackjustenoughtoavoidtheblowbutdidn’toverreactorshufflebackward.Hedidn’tintendtogiveStrongawarningshot.HeintendedtodoasEwansaidandhithardandfast.Thetwowentaroundthering,StrongthrowingincreasinglymoreseriouspunchesandRowdeneasilyevading.Thecrowdbegantoprotest.Theywantedtoseeblood.Rowdendidn’tintendtodisappoint.HemadetoshuffleleftthenshiftedrightandthrewaquickjabtoStrong’smidsection.WhenStrongrearedbackinsurprise,Rowdencaughthiminthechinwhenhisheadarcedforward.
Strongwentdownandtheumpireseparatedthemenandsentthemtotheircorners.Thecrowdcheered,andRowdentookaseatonTrogdon’sofferedknee.Ewanhandedhimacupofwater,andhedrank.Helookedup.“Well?”hesaid.
Ewanlookedathim.
“Don’tyouhaveanypraise?”
“No.”
“Censure?”Rowdenasked.
“No.”
“Advice?”
“Keephittinghim.”
“RemindmetotellChibaletoneveragainallowyoutotakehisplace.”
“Anotherorange,sir?”Trogdonasked,soundingpainedatRowden’sweightonhisknee.
“Notyet,”Rowdensaid,risingasthebellsoundedagain.Hewasonceagainface-to-facewithStrong,butthistimethemanhadbloodinhiseyes.Good.Angermadeitdifficulttofocus,andthatworkedtoRowden’sbenefit.HeletStrongtirehimselfbythrowingmorepunches,whichRowdenavoided.Notallofthemwereeasytoavoid,buthewasquickonhisfeet.
Thecrowdbooedagain,butRowdendidn’tfancyasplitliptogivethemagoodshow.Strongthrewanotherpunch.RowdenduckedandwentunderitthencameupbehindStrong,wrappedanarmabouthisneck,liftedhimofftheground,andslammedhimdown.Therewereveryfewrulesinafightlikethis,butRowdenwouldn’tstooptokickingamanwhenhewasdown.HewaitedtopunchStrongwhenhecrawledtohisfeet,buttheumpireshovedhimintohiscorner.
Ewanheldoutanothercupofwater,lookingincreasinglybored.“Stopplayingwithhim.”
RowdentooktheprofferedorangefromTrogdonandtriedtocatchhisbreath.“I’mnotplayingwithhim.He’sgood.”
Ewanrolledhiseyestoshowwhathethoughtofthatassessment.
“Look,”Rowdensaidbetweenbitesoforange,whichheforceddownsohedidn’thavetotasteit,“Iwanttogohomeaswell.IstillhavetofetchMissBrownanddeliverherbacktoyou.ThesoonerIfinishhim,thecloserIamtoHungerfordandtheGerman.”AndthecloserhewastoseeingMissBrowninthatbluedressagain.“Soifyouhaveanysuggestions,I’mallears.”Heatethelastoftheorangeandwipedhisfingersonatowel.
Ewanleaneddown,andRowdenalmoststeppedback,halfafraidMostynwouldpunchhimforchallenginghim.
“Hefavorshisrightside,”Ewansaidquietly.“Healwaysoffershisleft.”
Rowdenconsidered.HethoughtaboutthewayStrongmoved.Hedidanglehisbodytopresenttheleftside,whichwasunusualasStrongwasnotleft-handed.“Washehurtontheright?”Rowdenasked.
Ewanshrugged.Chibalewouldhaveknown,butChibalewasn’there.
“Hithimontheright,”Ewansaid.
Aidanappearednexttotheropes.“Sowhat’stheplan?ShouldIdoublemywager?”
“Howmuchhaveyouwageredonmealready?”Rowdenasked.
AidangaveanumberthathadevenEwan’sbrowsshootingup.
“Andhowmuchonhim?”RowdenshotathumbtowardStrong,whowasstilleatinghisorange.
Aidansmiled.“Notasmuch.”
“Cageybastard,”Rowdensaid.“Yes.Doubleyourbetandhurryup.Ewanhasotherplansfortheevening.”
Theumpirecalledforthenextround.RowdenstartedforthecenterofthesquareevenasEwanmadeashowofcheckinghispocketwatch.
Stronglookedtohaverecoveredfromthelastround.Hewasmovingquickly,andRowdenwatchedcarefully.Theothermillingcovedefinitelyangledhisleftsideforward,whichwasinefficientsincehethenhadtopunchwithhisrightarm.ItmadehimslowerandwasprobablypartofthereasonRowdenhadeasilydodgedhisstrikes.Well,maybenoteasily.RowdensawthewaytobringStrongdownnow.Hecouldwaituntilthemantiredandhisprotectionofhisrightsideflagged.OrhecouldtrickStrongintoexposinghisrightandendthisfightrightnow.
HeglancedatEwanwhostoodwitharmscrossed,pocketwatchswingingimpatientlyfromonehand.IfRowdenhadn’tbeenanxioustogohomeaswell,hewouldhavemadeEwanwaitjusttoannoytheman.
Instead,hemovedforwardcarelessly,givingStronganopeningtopunchhim.Strongtookit,andRowdendidn’tmovebacktolessentheblow.Thepunchglancedoffhischeekandsentabloomofpainthroughtothebackofhisheadandthendowntohisverytoes.ButhetookthepunchandwhenStrong’shandglancedaway,hisrightwasfullyexposed.Rowdenpunchedandpunchedhard.HehitStrongontherightsideofhisjawwiththefirstpunchandthenintheribswiththesecond.TheribswerethesourceoftheproblemforStrong.RowdenfeltStrongcrumpleassoonashisfistmadecontact.
Themanwentdown,andhedidn’tgetupagain.
TheumpireraisedRowden’shandanddeclaredhimthevictor.Theroomcheered,butRowdenlookeddownatStrong,stilllyingonthefloorofthedirtytavernandsawhimselfinafewyears.Hefeltnopleasureinhisvictory.
HecollectedhiswinningsandhisshareofthestakescoldlyandthenjoinedEwanandAidanoutside.Trogdonwouldalreadybeonhiswayhome,taskedwithreadyingtheflatforRowden’sreturn.
“How’syourface?”AidanaskedwhenRowdenemergedintothebrisknight.
Rowdenhadforgotaboutit,butatAidan’ssuggestion,thepainreemerged.“Hurtslikehell.”
“You’llhaveabloomingroseonthatcheektomorrow,”Aidansaid.“Butnowyou’reboundforHungerfordandanothershotattheGerman.”
“Willyoubeattending?”Rowdenasked.“OrdoyouneedtobuyuptheotherhalfofLondonthatweek?”
Aidansmiled.“Icantakeafewdaysoff.LondonwillstillbeherewhenIreturn.I’vealreadyaskedmysecretarytowritetoNicholastoaskifwecanmakeuseofhissparechambersforafewdays.”
RowdennoddedandlookedatEwan.“Areyoucoming?”
Ewanshookhishead.“I’llmakeoneofmycarriagesavailable,”Aidanoffered.“Youcouldbringyourwife.”
EveryoneinTownknewaboutAidan’scarriages.Theywerewidelytoutedastheepitomeofcomfortandstyle.Somesaidtheywerethepinnacleofostentation,sincenoonereallyneededacarriagesolavishlyequipped.ButAidanhadspentthefirstpartofhislifeonthestreetsuntilhisuncle,thenewmarquess,hadtakenhisillegitimatenephewin.Andafewyearslater,AidanhadjoinedthearmyandspentyearswithDraven’stroop,sleepingonthegroundinrain,sleet,andsnow.RowdencouldhardlyblameAidanforwantinghiscomfortsnow.AndifAidanwasofferingtoshare,Rowdenwouldn’tturndownhisfriend’sgenerosity.
“I’lltakethatoffer,”Rowdensaid.“IfNicholaswon’thaveus,wecanalwayssleepinthecarriage.”
Aidanwrinkledhisnose,thoughRowdenknewatleastoneofhiscarriageshadaseatthatpulledoutwideenoughtoconverttoasmallbed.
“Leavetheaccommodationstome,”Aidansaid.“Iknowyouhavefamilyobligations,Mostyn.Rowden,fancyadrink?”
“Nottonight,”Rowdensaid.Hedidn’twanttoexplainthathehadobligationsaswell.
“Youdon’twanttocelebrateyourvictory?Verywell.I’llcelebrateforyou.”
Ahackneypulledupthen,andAidanjumpedforwardandclaimedit.Ewangrowled,andAidanwaved,seemingtotakepleasureinhavingbeatenEwantoit.ButthatwasAidan.Helikedtowin.
Ewansignaledtoanotherhackneyand,asitpulledup,helookedatRowden.“AlargepurseofferedinHungerford.”
Rowdennodded.TalkingtoEwanwassometimesliketalkingtoawall,butRowdenaskedanyway.“Howdoyouknowwhenyou’refinished?”
Ewanshrugged.“Iwasneverabare-knucklefighter.”
“ButyouwalkedawayfromLangley’s.”
Langley’swasagaminghellEwanhadownedasharein.Mostlyhe’dservedasthestrongmanwhothrewoutthosewho’doverimbibedortriedtostartbrawls.Buthe’dsoldhisshareandboughttheboxingstudiowithColonelDraven.Nowhewashisownmanandseemedhappierthaneverbefore.Ofcourse,Ewanrarelyshowedanyemotion,butRowdenassumedhewashappier.
Ewanopenedthedoortothehackney,andRowdenthoughthemightnotanswer.Butthenhelookedback,hisfocussomewherefaraway.“Whenitlosesitsshine,”hesaidandclimbedintothehackneythenspedaway.Eleven
OncePhaedrawasputtobed,MadameRenauldreturnedtothesittingroom.Butshewasfarfromeasy.Shepacedandcheckedthewindowandpacedmore.She’dpouredteaforModestyandherself,butshehadn’ttouchedherowncup.Modestyhaddrunkhers,mainlytokeepwarmuntiltheroomheatedupafterMadameRenauldbuiltupthefireagain.
Somewhereinthehouseaclockchimedone,andModestyheardasquawk.“Wasthatabird?”sheasked,desperatetosaysomethingtoendthetensesilence.
“Oui.Bleuette,myparrot.Hercageeescovered,butshelikestoechothechimes.”
“Ididn’trealizeyouhadaparrot.I’veneverseenone.”
MadameRenauldsatontheedgeofachairupholsteredinamethystandliftedherteacup.“Youshouldcometomyshop.Youcanmeetherandbefittedforadressthatwillleavemenunabletolookawayfromyou.”
Modestyraisedherbrows.“I’mnotsureIwantmenunabletolookawayfromme.”
“Ah,”Madamesaid.“Youarelikeme.ImustblendinlestIupstagemycustomers.”
Modestylookedatthiswomanandwonderedhowsheeverblendedin.Shewassobeautiful.
“Butsurelythereeessomemanyouwanttolookatyou,”MadameRenauldsaid,sippingwhatmustbynowbecoldtea.
Modestydidn’tspeak,butshecouldfeelhercheeksheating.
“Perhapsthefighter.Payne,”Madamesaid,eyeingModestyovertherimofhercup.“Phaedrasaidhewouldcometofetchyou.”
“He’sbeenverykind,”Modestysaid.“Ithinkhemustfeelsorryforme.”
“Perhaps,”Madamesaid,butshelookedunconvinced.
“Inanycase,Iwon’ttroublehimagainaftertonight.Hehasdonequiteenoughforme.”
“Isee.”
Modestyheardthesoundofacoachapproaching,andsheandMadameRenauldroseandwenttothewindowoverlookingthestreet.WhenMr.Paynealightedfromtheconveyance,herheartbeatalittlefaster,butshenoticedthemodisteslumpedslightly.Shewonderedwhotheotherwomanwasexpectingbutdidnotask.
Amomentlateraknocksoundedatthedoor,andMadamewenttoansweritthenusheredMr.Payneintothechamber.Thesittingroom,whichhadlookedsospaciousandcozybefore,nowseemedtoosmallandcramped.Mr.Payneseemedtofillit,andwhenhecameintothelight,shespottedthedarkbruiseonhischeek.
“Didyouwin?”MadameRenauldasked,afterintroductionsweremade.
Hegrinnedthenwincedandtouchedhischeek.Clearlythebruisepainedhim.“Ofcourse.”Hejiggledhiscoat,whichjingledfromtheweightofthepurseholdingthecoinsinhispocket.Thenhisexpressiongrewmoreserious.“Howisyourassistant?”
“Sheeessleeping.Igavehersometealacedwithbrandy.”
“Thebestthingfortheswellingisacoldcompress.Ifshecanstandit,applyicewrappedinclothforaquarterhour.”Heglancedatthewindow.“Itshouldbecoldenoughtoturnwatertoicetonightifyouputoutapan.”
“I’lldothat.Merci.”Sheglancedatthewindow.“EesMr.Okoronotwithyou?”
Mr.Payne’sbrowdrewdown.“No.Hehad…”HeglancedatModesty.“Someotherbusiness.Ithoughthewouldhavefinishedbynow,buthiserrandtookhimtothedocks,anditmighttakesometimetodriveback.Icanwaitwithyou—”
“No,monsieur.Thispoorladyeesweary.Youmusttakeherhomeandseetoyourowninjuries.”
Henoddedbutpulledacardoutofhiswaistcoat,whichheworeunbuttonedunderhiscoat.“Sendformeifyouneedanything.”
“Merci.Youareverykind.”ShegaveModestyapointedlook.“Andyou,chérie.Youmustcometotheshop.Bringher,monsieur.Iwillmakeheradressyouwillnotsoonforget.”
Mr.PaynebowedandlookedatModesty.“MissBrown,areyouready?”
Shenoddedandtookhisarm.Heledheroutoftheflatandintothestreet,wherethehackneystillwaited.Onceinthevehicle,shemissedthewarmthofhisbodypressedagainsthersasithadbeeninthenarrowpassageway.SheburroweddeepintoLadyLorraine’scloakandtriednottothinkabouthowthiswasthelasttimeshemighteverseehim.Butifitwere,sheneededtoapologizetohim.
“Iamsorryaboutthisevening,”shesaid.He’dbeenlookingoutthewindow,buthemovedtofaceher.
“Iwon.There’snothingtobesorryfor.”
“No.IamsorryforwhatIsaid.Aboutyourwife.Ididn’tknow,anditwascarelessto—”
Heheldupahand.“Shediedalongtimeago.”
Modestynodded.“Iunderstand,butthatisnoexcuseformycarelessness.”Shelookedoutthewindow.“Andtimedoesnotalwaysdullthepain.”
Shedidn’tknowwhyshe’dsaidthat.Shehadn’tmeanttosayanythingofthesort,butshewasthinkingofherownmothersomuchtheselastfewdays.Mr.Paynehadn’treplied,andshethoughthemightallowthecommenttopassunacknowledged.
“Youspeakasfromexperience,”hesaid.
Apparently,thecommentwouldnotgounacknowledged.
“MymotherdiedwhenIwasfive.Imissherstill,thoughsomewouldsayIhardlyknewher.”Afterreadingthelettersanddiscoveringhermotherhadknownofherfather’sunfaithfulness,Modestydidfeelshehadn’tknownhermother.“AndperhapsIdidn’t.”
“Wastheresomethinginthelettersthattroubledyou?”
Modestywassorelytemptedtotellhimthat,yes,somethinginthelettershadtroubledherverymuch.Butshewasnotreadytorevealherfather’ssinstoRowdenPayne.
“Theymentionedmymotheronlyinpassing.Therewasnothingaboutmyaunt.”
“Whathappenedtoyourblackclothingandthatawfulhatyouusuallywear?”
Modestyshrugged,agestureshehadneverbeenallowedtomakebefore.Herfatherconsideredittheheightofrudeness.Butwhatdidshecarewhathethoughtnow?She’dwantedtobeawomanlikehermother,awomanhewouldrespectandlove.Buthehadn’trespectedhermotheratall.“Idon’tseethepointofdressinginblack.”
Payne’sbrowswentup.“Ithoughtyourchurchdictatedit?”
“Theydictatemodestdress,butitdoesnothavetobeblack.Myfatherandmotheralwaysdressedinblackanddressedmethusaswell.ButIdon’tseethepointinadheringtothosestricturesanymore.”
Hesatback.“Whateverwasinthoselettersmusthaveshockedyou.”
Shelookedoutthewindowagain.“Idon’twishtodiscussthem.”Andthatpledgelastedallofthreeheartbeats.“Buthaveyoueverbelievedonethingaboutsomeoneandthenitturnedoutthatyouwerewrong?Theywerenotthepersonyouthoughtatall?”
Shefeltridiculousforsayingsuchathing.Howcouldanyonepossiblyunderstandwhatitwasliketofeelasthoughshehadlivedwithastrangerherentirelife?Herfatherwasnotwhoshethought.Hehadanotherfamily!
“Yes.Icanunderstandthat.MyownfatherturnedouttobeverydifferentfromthemanIalwayssupposedhimtobe.”
“Idon’tmeantopry,”shesaid.
Hewavedahand.“Youhaveprobablyheardthedukedisownedme.NodoubtyouthinkIdidsomethingtodeserveit.”
Sheshookherhead.“Onthecontrary,Iheardyouwereawarhero.”
Hegaveherafaintsmile.“Thatmightbeoverstatingitsomewhat.ButIfoughtinthewarafterIwascutoff.Andalltheaccoladesheapedonmeintheprevailingyearsdidnothingtoswaymyfather.”
“I’msosorry.”
“Again,itisnotyourdoing,andthereisnothingtoapologizefor.”Thehackneystopped,andthejarveycalleddownthattherewassomesortofobstacleahead.
“I’llseeifIcanfindawayaround,guv.”
“IfImay?”Paynesaidandmovedacrosstheconveyancetositbesideherandpeeroutthewindow.Ashehadoccupiedtherear-facingseat,hehadn’tbeenabletoseeaheadofthem.Nowheloweredthewindow,peeringoutandfrowning.Theconveyancebounced,andshefellagainsthim,rightingherselfquickly,butnotsoquicklythatshedidn’tfeelthewarmthofhisbodyorcatchthescentofhim.
Shedidnotknowwhatawarriormightsmelllike,butifshehadtoguess,shewouldhavesaiditwasthescentofMr.Paynethatevening.Shedetectedamixtureofsweat,blood,wool,and—strangely—oranges.Thescentwasn’tunpleasant,asshemighthaveexpected.Infact,itdrewhercloser.Thevoicethatalwaysaroseinhermindbubbledupagain,tellinghersheshouldsitbackandmoveaway.
ButModestypusheditawayinstead.Followingalltheruleshadnotkepthermotheraliveormadeherfatherafaithfulhusband.FollowingtheruleshadnotkeptModestyfrombeingabandonedandbecoming,essentially,homelessandpenniless.Whatdiditmatternowifshemovedawayfromhimorallowedherselftosoakuptheheatandscentofhimamomentlonger?
Hesatbackandlookedather.“Anoverturnedcart.Theyarealreadyclearingit.”
Shenodded,unabletospeak.Shecouldn’tseethecolorofhiseyesinthedimlight,butsheknewtheywerealovelyshadeofgreen.Shealsoknewhehadabruiseformingonhischeek,butshecouldn’tseethateither.Rightnowallshecouldseewashisstrongjawandmostlystraightnose.Hewaswarm,hisbigbodytakingupmorethanhalftheseat,oneofhisthighspressingagainsthersthroughlayersoflinenandwool.
Helookedatherforalongmomentthenclearedhisthroat.“Ishouldmoveback.”Buthedidn’tmove,andshedidn’tspeak.Thehackneylurchedtoastart,andhecaughthershoulderswithbothhandsbeforeshecouldtumbletothefloor.Thenthevehiclestoppedagain,andshewasonlycushionedbythefactthatheheldontoher.Ittookamomentbeforesherealizedshecouldfeelhishandsonherarms,andshelookeddowntoseehercloakhadcomelooseandfallenoffhershoulders.
“Allowme,”hesaid.Hepulledthecloakupandoverhershouldersthencrossedtheribbonsthathadcomelooseatherneck.Butinsteadofmakingabow,hishandsstayedwheretheywereandonefingertrailedalongthebareskinjustbelowherneck.Modestygasped,butshedidnotpullaway.Payne’sgazemethers.“Ineglectedtotellyouhowwellyoulookedinthisdresstonight.”
Shecouldn’treply.Shedidn’tknowwhattosay,andevenifshehad,shedidn’tthinkshecouldhaveproducedthesound.Shewantedhimtokissher.Sheknewsheshouldn’twantthat,andshehadneverwantedsomethinglikethatbefore,buthewassocloseandsowarm,andthatonefingerleftatrailoffireoverherbareskin.Andthenbothhishandsslidback,lettingthecloakfallawayagain,andheleanedforwardandplacedachastekissatthebaseofherthroat.Hissoftlipspressedagainstherbareskin,causinghertotremble.Shecouldn’tsaywhysheshouldtremble.Shewasnotcold—infact,shewasvery,verywarm—andshewasnotafraid.Hewouldstopifshegavetheslightestindicationthatshedisapproved.Sowhyshouldshetremble?
Helookedupather.“Ishouldn’thavedonethat.I’mnotmyself.Afterafight,Ialwaysfindithardtobeagentleman.”
“Yourbloodisstirred?”shesaid,hervoicelowandhusky.Shehardlyrecognizeditasherown.
“Agitated,”hemurmured.
Hadhegonehometohiswifeafterboxingmatchesyearsagoandfoundareleaseforthatexcesspassionintheirbed?Washelookingforthatsamereleasenow?
Shereachedupandtouchedhisbruise,verylightly.Hedidnotflinch,didnotmoveasherhandssliddownhischeekandoverhisjawandthenuptopresstwofingersoverhislips,tuggingtheloweronedownasshemovedawayagain.
“You’retrembling,”hesaid,stillholdingher.
“I’veneverbeenkissed,”sheadmitted.
Heshookhishead.“Ishouldn’tbethemanto—”
Sheswallowedanddroppedherhand.“Ididn’tmeantosuggest—Iwouldneveraskyoutodosomethingyoudon’twant—”
“Oh,Iwant,”hesaid,andthetoneofhisvoiceleftnoquestionastothatfact.
“Thenwhydoyouhesitate?”
Ifshe’dexpectedaspokenanswer,itdidn’tcome.Heloweredhisheadtohers,hislipsalmostbrushinghers.“Doyouwant,MissBrown?”
“Yes,”shewhispered.Andthenshedidsomethingthatwouldhaveshockedherbutaweekago.Shetookhisfacebetweenherhandsandkissedhim.
***
ROWDEN’SBELLYTIGHTENED,andhiscockhardened.Thesewerefamiliarsensations—arousalanddesire.Buthisheartclenchedinhischest,andthatwasunfamiliar.Thathehadnotfeltinaverylongtime.Heknewwhyhefeltitnow.Thewayshekissedhimwassosweet,soinnocent.
Herlipspressedagainsthisastenderlyasachildmightkissthecheekofherparent.
Anditmovedhim.Itmovedhimthatshewouldgivehimthispartofherself,thissweet,untouchedpartofherself.Herfirstkiss.Itfeltlikehisfirstkiss,thewayherlipsalmostbaptizedhimofhisprevioussins.
Thekissmighthavestayedchasteifthearousalwasn’tflowingthroughhisveinsalongwiththehotbloodfromthefightsearlierthatnight.Heneededmorethanthis,andhewascuriouswhatherreactionwouldbeifheopenedthedoor,justalittle,tothepassionandpleasurebeyond.
Hepulledback,andherbrowpulledin.Herhandsdropped.“Wasthatnotright?”
“Itwas…”Hedidn’thavethewords.“Itwasperfect,”hesaid,allowinghishandstoslidedownherslimshoulders.She’dalmoststoppedtrembling.“MayIkissyounow?”
Shenodded.
“Thewords,MissBrown.Tellmeyes.”
“Yes.”Thewordwasawhisper,andhereyelidsflutteredclosedasshewaited.Heslidhishandsupherbackthenbenttokissherneckagain.Herpulsebeatsohardhecouldfeelitagainsthislips.Herbreathcamequickly,soquicklythatifhe’dpulledherjustabitcloser,herbreastswouldhaveheavedagainsthim.Hetriedtorememberhewasagentleman,despitehiscock’sbesteffortstoconvincehimotherwise.Rowdentrailedhislipsupthecolumnofherneck,andsheletoutalittlegaspofpleasure.Rowdenpausedjustunderherchinatthatrapidlybeatingpulsepoint.Andthenhishandwasinherhairandhismouthfoundhers,anditwasasthoughhehadbeenkissingherforyears.Theirmouthsfitperfectly,andherlipspartedtoreceivehimwithouthimevenhavingtonudgeforentrance.Shedidn’tkisshimbackatfirst,butheshowedherwhattodo,andwhenhepaused,sheimitatedthepressofhislipsandthepressurehe’dused.
Godhowhewanted.Hewantedtosweephistongueinsidehermouthandtasteher.Hewantedtopullherontohislapandrunhishandsunderherskirts.Hewantedtotouchherinthathot,wetplaceheknewmustbeachingrightnow.
Shewassosweet,sodelicate,soinnocent—andhewasnotthemanwhoshouldbetakinganypartofthatinnocence.He’ddoneenough.Evenaskisseswent,thiswasonlyonestepawayfromchaste,butitwasmorethanheshouldbeallowed.Hepulledaway,pressinghislipstohertempleandthenherforeheadbecausehecouldn’tstoptouchingherquiteyet,andhedidn’ttrusthimselftomovehislipslower.Thatstrainingbodicewasalltootempting.
Helookeddownatherandwished,witheverythinghehad,thathehadalamp.Herfacewasflushedandherhairslightlymussed,andhecouldsensehowbeautifulshewouldlookinwarmcandlelight.
“Thatiskissing?”sheasked,hervoicesoundinglowandrawasthoughshe’djustawakened.Hewantedtokissheragainjusthearingit.
“Moreorless,”heanswered.
Atsomepoint,perhapswhentheywerekissing,thecarriagehadbeguntomoveagain.NowhelookedpastherandoutthewindowandsawtheywereclosetoEwan’shome.“We’realmostthere.”Hepulledhercloakupandtiedtheribbonsefficientlythenreachedtosmoothherhairbeforethinkingbetterofit.Thelesshetouchedher,thebetter.Instead,hedrewthehoodofthecloakoverherhead.Herhairwouldseemmussedfromthefabricrubbingagainstitratherthanhishands.
“Isthisgood-bye?”sheasked,sittingupandstartingtoresembletheprimandproperyoungmisshe’dseenthatfirstnight.
“Ithinkthat’sforthebest,”hesaidbecausehedidn’twantittobegood-byeanymorethanshe.“LadyLorrainewillhelpyoufindyouraunt,andIhavetoprepareforthemillinHungerford.”
“Hungerford?”Shesatupasthoughshe’djustsatonapin.
“Yes.I’mtofighttheGermanthere.Thereareotherrenownedpugilistsslatedtofight,andsinceit’slikelytodrawenoughFancytoattracttheattentionofthemagistratesinLondon,it’sbeingheldinHungerford.”
Thecoachslowedandthejarveybangedonthetop.“Hereyeare,guv!”
Rowdenopenedthecoachdoorandhelpedherout.AttheMostyn’sdoor,herappedquietly,andamanservantansweredimmediately.HehadobviouslybeeninstructedtowaitforMissBrowntoreturn.Hesteppedbacktogivethemprivacy.
Sheturnedtogointhenhesitated.“Ican’tthankyouandyourfriendsenoughforwhatyou’vedoneforme.I…”Shelookeddown.“IadmitImisjudgedyou.”
“YouthoughtIwasacriminal,”hesaid,smiling.
Shestartedtoshakeherhead.“Well,yes.Butyoumustadmit,boxingisillegal,sotechnically,youareacriminal.”
Rowdenbowed.“Andsoweendaswebegan.Goodnight,MissBrown.”
“Goodnight.”
Rowdenwentbacktothehackneyandorderedthejarveytotakehimtohisflat.Normally,hemightgotohiscluboratavernandcelebratehisvictory.Hecouldneversleeprightafterafight.Thethrilloftendidnotwearofffordays.
ButtonightRowdendidn’twantcrowdsanddrinkandbuxomwomenonhislap.Hecouldn’timaginekissinganotherwomanafterthatkisswithModestyBrown.
Rowdencouldonlyhopethatthrillwouldwearoffeventuallyaswell.Twelve
TheladwhohadansweredthebackdooratMadameRenauld’sshophadshownChibalealetterwiththeaddressofthismodestbuildingjustafewblocksawayandinstructionstoknockonthedoorwherehestoodatthemoment.Chibalecertainlyhopedthiswasn’tsomesortoftrickbecauseifMadameRenauld—Thérèse—didnotanswer,Chibaleimaginedwhoeverdidwouldberatherannoyedtobewakenedafterfourinthemorning.
Hetappedlightlyonthedoor,waitedapproximatelythreeseconds,thenturnedtogo.Behindhimthedooropened.
“Monsieur?”
HeturnedbacktofindMadameRenauld—hedarednotthinkofherasThérèseinthatmoment—standinginthedoorwayinanelegantgoldsilkrobe,herhairinabraidcurvingoveroneshoulder.
“It’slate.Ishouldn’thavedisturbedyou,”hesaid.
Shewavedhisapologyawayandopenedthedoorwider.“Ihavebeenwaitingforyou.Comein.”
Chibaledidnotneedtobeaskedtwice.Sheclosedthedoorbehindhim,tookhiscoat,thenledhimintoabeautifulparlorwithfurnishingsincolorshehadneverimaginedbefore.“Pleasesit.”Shesatonachairofrubyredandliftedateapot.“Tea?Imadeanewpotnotlongago,anditeesstillwarm.”
“Yes,thankyou.”Chibaledidn’twanttea,butheneededsomethingtodowithhishands.Holdingateacupwasbetterthannothing.Hetookaseatonanemeraldgreenchairandtriednottostareather.Thematerialofherrobedrapedelegantly,butitwasthinandleftlittledoubtthatsheworeonlytheflimsiestnightgownunderneath—ifthat.Hedidn’twanttostaretooclosely,buthewasaman,andshewasabeautifulwoman.
Shepouredthetea,askedhowhepreferredit,thenrosetohandhimthecup.Shesettledbackinherrubyseatandraisedherbrows.“Well?”sheasked.“Willyoutellmeoftheeventsoftheevening?Mr.Paynewaslessthanforthcoming.IthinkhedidnotwanttospeakinfrontofMissBrown.”
“Ofcourse.”Chibalesettheteacuponthesaucer.“Iforgottoask.HowisMissPhaedra?”
Thérèse’smouthhardenedintoathinline.“Worsethanyesterday.YousawherattheCockandBull?”
“Yes.”
Shegaveacurtnod.“Iputhertobedafteracupofteawithbrandy.”
“She’sherethen?”Chibaleasked,surprisedthatamodistewouldallowanemployeesuchalibertyasstayinginherhouse.
“Icouldnotsendherhome.Hemightcomeforher.”
Chibaleshookhishead.“Hewon’tbeseeingheranytimesoon.He’sonhiswaytotheContinent.Ipaidhisfareonashipthatwon’tdockuntilitreachesItaly.”
“Ifwearefortunate,theshipwillsink.”
“Ifwearefortunate,hewillfindmentoboxinRomeorVeniceandstayawayforyearstocome.”
“Youhavedonemeagreatservice,monsieur.”Sheroseandwenttoatablethenslidopenthedrawer.“YoumusttellmewhatIoweyouforthefare.”
Chibalehadrisenwhenshedid.“Iwouldn’tdreamoftakingyourmoney.IdiditforMissPhaedra.Andfortheotherwomenhe’shurt.Anddon’tthinkIdidn’tgetanysatisfactionoutofseeinghimlyingonthegroundafterPayneandMr.Mostynwerethroughwithhim.Theywenteasyonhim,buthewon’tsoonforgetthefeeloftheirfists.”
Thérèseslidthedrawerclosedandmovedawayfromthetable.Chibalewasdisconcertedtorealizethatputherclosertohim.Andshemovedcloserstill.“ButImustpayyousomething,”shesaid.“Arewardofsomekind.”
Chibaleswallowed.Histhroathadsuddenlygoneverydry.“Youhavealreadyagreedtoattendtheballwithme—”
Sheshookherheadandmovednearer,sonearnowthathecouldsmellthescentofherperfume.Hethoughtitmightbejasmine.Thesilkofherrobebrushedagainsthiscoat.“ThatbenefitsmeasIamalwayslookingformorecustomersandgooddealsfromtextilemerchants.”Sheputahandonhiscoat.“Iwanttoexpressmyappreciationtoyou,monsieur.”Herhandslidupanddownhiscoatasthoughappraisingthequalityofthesuperfinewool.
“Icouldn’t—”
“Icould,”shesaid,wrappingherarmsaboutherneck.Shelookedupathimwiththosebeautifulbrowneyesandallofthatsmooth,creamyskin.Herbody,andhecouldfeelitperfectly,pressedagainsthis.“Donotmakemebeg,Chibale.”
Chibalepridedhimselfonself-control,buteverymanhadhislimits.Atquartertofiveinthemorningwithabeautifulwomanwrappedaroundhim,hewasathis.Chibaleloweredhismouthandkissedher.
Thekisswasexquisite—almostasexquisiteasshe.Shetastedofteawithcreamandsomethingricher.Herealizedshemusthaveputbrandyinherowntea,andhelikedtheflavorthatgaveher.Hishandsslidaroundherwaist,thesilkripplingunderhisfingertips.Itwouldhaveslidsoeasilyoffhershouldersanddownherarms,overherhips,andintoapuddleonthefloor.Thenhewouldknowwhatshewore—ordidn’t—underit.
Chibalepulledbackandhadtogripthematerialofherrobetokeepfromrunninghishandsupanddownherlushbody.Sheleanedintohim,buryinghernoseinthesideofhisneckandinhaling.“IthasbeenalongtimesinceI’vestoodinaman’sarms,”shesaid.“AlongtimesinceIhavemetamanIwantedtokiss.”
“Whyme?”Chibaleasked,unabletostophimself.
“Icanseeyouaredifferent.”Shelookedupathisface.“IadmitIwasunsureofyouatfirst.Amanintheworldofboxing.”Sheshookherheadasthoughdisapproving.“Suchamancanbeviolent.Butnotyou.Youareaprotector.”
Chibalehadneverthoughtofhimselfinthoseterms,buthesupposeditwastrue.Hehadyoungersiblings,andhehadalwayslookedafterthemandprotectedthem.“Doyouneedprotecting?”heasked.
Shegavehimaruefulsmile.“No.”
He’dknowntheanswerbeforeheevenaskedit.Shewasstrongandindependent.Shedidn’tneedanyone.Thatwasclearenough.Buttherewassomethinginhersmile,somethingsadandslightlywistfulthatmadehimthinkperhaps,atonetime,shehadneededprotection.
“Ishouldgo.”Heforcedhimselftostepback.
“Sosoon?Ah,butyouareprotectingmeagain.Ipromiseyou,monsieur,Idonotneedit.Anotherkiss?”Shereachedoutandcaughthiscoat,tugginghimcloser.
“Idon’tthinkthat’sawiseidea.I’mtired,andIdon’ttrustmyself.”
“Itrustyou.Besides,I’dliketoseeyoumisbehave.I’llstart,shallI?”Shereachedforthetieofherrobeandloosedit,soitopenedseveralinches,showingthelacywhiteundergarmentshewore.Swathesofherskinwerevisiblebetweensectionsoflace,sectionsplacedverystrategicallytotemptandteaseandhideverylittle.
ChibaledrewinabreathandforcedhisgazetorisetoThérèse’s.Shecrookedafingerathim,andthistimehedidnothesitate.Hewenttoher,sweptherupandpressedherhardagainstthesapphire-paintedwall.Herarmswentaroundhim,andherhandswenttohishair,herfingersclosingontheclose-cutcurls.Thekissthistimewasnotgentleorteasing.Hekissedherdeepandthorough,showingherwhathewanted,whatshedidtohim.Herlegsparted,andheslidhiskneebetweenthem,pressingupandagainsttheheatofhercore
“Chibale,”shewhispered.Hekissedherneck,slidtherobeoffhershouldersandkissedthoseaswell.Hemighthavemovedlowerandtastedherbreasts,butamoansoundedfromanotherroom,andtheybothfrozeandlistened.
“Phaedra,”Thérèsesaid.
Chibalesteppedaway.“Shemightneedyou.Ishouldgo.”
Thérèsegavehimadisappointednod.“Oui.Shewasingreatpainearlier.”
“Icanseemyselfout.”
Thérèsereachedforhisarm.“WillIseeyouagain?Soon?Theballees…”Shemadeagesturetoindicateitwastoofaraway.
“I’llcallonyou.”
“Oui.Soon,monsieur.”
Hetookherhand,kissedthebackofit,andsawhimselfout.Amomentlater,heheardthelockclickonthedoorandherfootstepsasshewalkedaway.Chibaleleanedbackagainstthewallandsmiled.Hewantedtoshoutforjoy.Hefeltliketheluckiestmanintheworld.Atthatmoment,hebelievedhewastheluckiestmanintheworld.Rowdenhadwonhismatchandanicepurse,theBlackPlaguehadbeensentoutofLondon,andChibaleOkorohadkissedThérèseRenauld.Eventhoughtheweatherwascoldandunforgivingthatnight,Chibaledidn’tlookforahackneycab.Notthathewouldhavefoundonethatlateanyway.Hedidn’tfeelthecold.Hedidn’tfeeltheground.Hefloatedallthewayhome.
***
HESOAREDTHROUGHLONDONthenextmorningandsailedupthestairstohisparents’roomsabovethespiceshop.Chibalealwayslovedcominghome.HelovedwalkingthroughthedoorandsmellingthescentofexoticspicesfromIndia,Africa,andChina.Helovedhismother’scooking,especiallyhercurrantbuns.
Thismorning,helovedtheroaringfirethatmeltedtheicefromhisgloves
“Isthatyou,Chibale?”hismothercalledfromthekitchen.
“Yes,Mama.Ihopeyouhaveenoughforme.”
Shecametothedoorway,handsonherhipsandasmilelightingupherdarkface.“Ialwayshaveenoughforyou.Youdon’tkissyourmotheranymore?”
Chibalewenttoher,bent,andkissedher.Shesmelledofyeastanddough,asshealwaysdid.“Youaren’tbychancemakingcurrantbunsthismorning?”heaskedwithasmile.
“ItjustsohappensItoldAlicetoputsomeintheoven.”Alicewastheirmaidservant.Hismotherhadneverhiredacooksinceshelikedtocookherself.“Ihadafeelingyouwouldcomebytoday.”Shemadeashooingmotion.“Butgointothediningroomandseeyourfather.Hehasbeenwaitingforyou.”
Chibaleobeyed,enteringthediningroom,wherehisfathersatwithacupofteaandthepaper.Heloweredittoshowaroundfacewithlarge,intelligentdarkeyes.“Yourmothersaidyouwouldvisit.Sheisneverwrong.”Hehadadeepbaritonevoicethatseemedtoresonatethroughanyonehespoketo.AlthoughhehadbeenborninLondon,hisfatherhadcomefromAfrica,andGambaOkoroseemedtoretainsomeoftheliltofhisfather’snativetongue.
Chibalesatinthechairtohisfather’sleft.Hekepttherightopenforhisolderbrother,buthisfathermotionedtoit.“YourbrotherThimbaisatthewarehousetoday.HewantedtoinspectanewshipmentfromMorocco.”
“AndBethanieandDakarai?”
“They’llbehereassoonasAliceannouncesthemeal.Ihearyou’llbetravelingtoHungerford.”
Chibalesmiled.Hisfatheralwaysseemedtoknowthenewsfromtheboxingworld,thoughhewasnotapartofit.“RowdenwillfighttheGermanagain.Thistimehewillwin.”
“Iwanttogo,”saidavoicefromthedoorway.Chibaleglancedoverhisshouldertoseehisbrotheroffourteen,Dakarai,standingintheentrylistening.
“EverytimeIseeyou,you’vegrown,”Chibalesaid.
Dakaraistraightenedhisslimshoulders.Theboylookedlikesomegreathandreacheddownandstretchedhimout.Hewasskinnyandalllegs.
“GrownenoughtogotoHungerfordwithyou?”
Chibaleshookhishead.“Notyet.”
Dakarai’sshouldersslumped.Chibaleroseandputanarmaroundhisbrother.“Iwillbetoobusytomakesureyouaresafe,andalongwiththeFancyalltherabblewillcometoo.Maybenextyear.”
“ButTheRoyalPaynemightnotstillbefightingnextyear,”Dakaraicomplained,takingaseat.
“ThenChibalewillfindanotherpugilistjustastalented.”
Chibalewishedhefeltasconfidentofthat,butitwarmedhimthathisfatherhadsuchfaithinhim.Butthenhisfatherhadalwayssupportedeachofhischildreninalltheirendeavors.
“Bethanie!”Alicecalledandenteredwithatrayofcurrantbuns.Hismotherfollowed.Thetwowomenweresuchacontrast—CharlotteOkorowithherdarkfeaturesandhersmallstatureandMissAlicewithherwhiteskin,enormousbosom,andredhairbarelycontainedunderhercap.ShegaveChibaleahugesmile.“Mr.Chibale!Heardyehadsomelucklastnight,eh?”
“Hardwork,”hesaid.“Notluck.”
“YethinkTheRoyalPaynewillwinatHungerford?”
“Let’snotspeakofit,”Chibale’smothersaid.“Bethaniewillbehereinamoment.”
“She’salreadyheardallaboutit,”Bethaniesaidfromthedoor.Sheworeaprettypinkdaydress,andherhairwasputupinastylethatmadeherlookclosertotwentythanseventeen.Chibalewishedhecouldstoptimeandkeephissiblingsfromgrowingupsoquickly.
ShekissedChibalethenherfatheronthecheekandsat.“Youwillbebackintimefortheball,won’tyou?”sheasked.
“Iwouldnotmissit,”Chibalesaid.
HismothertookherseatandAliceservedthem,thenreturnedtothekitchentomakefreshtea.Therewasamomentofsilenceastheyallenjoyedtheirmeal.ThenBethanielookedup.“Chibaleistakingthemodistetotheball.”
Chibalefelteveryeyelandonhim.Heswallowedanowflavorlessbiteofcurrantroll.“MadameRenauldhasagreedtoaccompanyme,yes.”
“MadameRenauld?IssheFrench?”hismotherasked.
“Sheis,yes.”
“IssheaNegro?”Dakaraiwantedtoknow.
“Yes,”Chibalesaid.
“Youshouldinvitehertodinner,”hismothersaid.“BeforeyouleaveforHungerford.”
“I—”Chibaletriedtothinkofareasontodemur,buttherereallywasn’tone.Hisfamilywassuccessfulandhonorable.Helovedhisparentsandhissiblings.HefailedtoseehowThérèsecouldnotlovethemaswell.“Iwill.”
Bethanieclappedherhands.“WhatshouldIwear,Mama?Sheissobeautifulandstylish.I’msureIhavenothingsuitable.”
“Iamcertainwecanfindsomething,”hismothersaidwithasmile.
ChibalesmiledtoobecausenowhehadanotherreasontocallonThérèse.
***
“IDIDN’TMEANFORYOUtotakemetoseeher,”ModestysaidinLadyLorraine’scoachlaterthatmorning.“IwasidlywonderinghowMadameRenauld’sassistantwasfaring.”
ButLadyLorrainewavedahand.She’dlookedabitgreensincethey’dbegunthedrivetoMadameRenauld’sshop
“Areyoufeelingwell?”
LadyLorrainenodded.“I’llbefineoncewearrive.Toomuchjostlingbeforeafternoonmakesmequeasy.”Shefrowned.“Ihopethatdoesn’tmeanthebabywon’tlikecarriagerides.Iwashopingtotakehim—orher—tomyfather’sestatewhenhe—orshe—isoldenoughtotravel.It’ssimplybeautifulthere.Butwewon’tbeabletogoifhedislikescarriagesthismuch.”Shemadeaclutchingmotiontowardherslightlyroundedmidsection.
“Ibelievemostwomenhavesomenauseainthemorningwhenwithchild,”Modestysaid.ShehadnotspentmuchtimewithLadyLorraine,butalreadyshewascomingtounderstandthatthoughsheherselfhadlivedashelteredlife,LadyLorrainehadprobablybeenevenmoresheltered.SheseemednottoknowthingsModestytookforgranted—likewomenintheearlystagesofpregnancyoftenfeltnauseousinthemorning.
“Oh,good.Inanycase,thediscomfortiswellworthit.IhavebeenwantingtopayacallonMadameRenauldforsometime.MymotheralwayspatronizedMadameLeMonde,butherstylesseemabitold-fashionedtome.Iwantsomethingnew,andIprobablyneedsomethingwithabiggerwaistline.”
Modestycouldseeverylittleevidenceofthat,butshewasn’tcertainwhetheritwasbettertoagreeortodisagree,soshekeptsilent.LadyLorraineworeaprettydaydressoflightgreenwithadarkergreenpelisseoverit.Modestyworethesamedressshehadwornthenightbefore.Itwasthatordressinallblack.
“AndevenifIdidn’tneedanewdress,youcertainlydo,”LadyLorrainesaid.
Modestyshookherhead.“IcouldnotaffordaRenauld.”
“ButIcan,”LadyLorrainesaid.
“No.”Modestyshookherhead.“Please.Youhavebeensokindtomealready.”
“Kind?Ihaven’tevenmanagedtolocateyourauntyet.But”—sheraisedaglovedfinger—”Ianticipatenewslatertoday.Theladieswillbeattheirmorningcorrespondenceevennow.So,yousee,weneedadiversion,andit’smuchtoocoldforawalkandImustconfessIdislikesewing.AndI’veneverbeenagreatreader.”
Modestyimaginedthatwasbecauseshelikedtotalktoomuch.She’dprobablyreadalineandthentelleveryoneallaboutitbeforereadingthenext.“Wecouldgotothestudio.There’salwaysworktobedonethere,andwemightseeLordRowden—”
“No.”
LadyLorraineraisedherbrowsatModesty’squickresponse.
“Imean,Ihaveseenenoughfightingfornow.Butifyouwouldliketogo—”
“Icanwait,”LadyLorrainesaid.Then,“Oh,howcharming!”ShepeeredoutthewindowattheshopwithawhitesignreadingMadameRenauld’sinblackscript.Underthat,inblockletters,itsaidMODISTE
Theshoptoowaspaintedwhitewithashinyblackdoorandalargewindowshowingseveralhatsinvariouscolorsandstyles.Aribbonofblueseemedtodescendfromoneofthehatsandrippleasitflowedoverthegreenmaterialthatmadeupthebackground.“Andlookthere’sateashopjustthere,”LadyLorrainesaid.“Wecanhaveteaafterweshop.”
Modestynodded,notarguingwiththatideabecauseshe’dnoticedLadyLorrainehadeatenalmostnothingatbreakfast,thoughherhusbandhadpiledherplatequitehighwithanassortmentofpastriesandeveryothersortoffoodModestyhadneversomuchastasted,muchlessimaginedeatingdaily.
Thecoachstopped,andafootmanopenedthedoorandhandedLadyLorrainethenModestydown.Shewasstillnotcomfortablewiththeservants.LadyLorraineassuredhershehadveryfewcomparedtootherhouses,butassomeonewhohadneverhadany,Modestydidnotknowhowtobehavearoundthem.“Thankyou,”shesaid.
Hedidn’trespond.Theyneverdid.?ModestyfollowedLadyLorraineintotheshop.Assoonastheyentered,someonesaid,“Hello!”
Modestyjumped,butLadyLorrainelookedup.“Hello,”shesaidtoabrightlycoloredbird.
“Finelace,”thebirdanswered.
Modestywantedtoturnaroundandwalkrightbackoutofthestore.Shehadneverseenabirdtalk,andshewasafraidthismightbetheworkofSatan.LadyLorraineputahandonherarm.“It’saparrot,”shesaid.“Theyareabletoimitatehumanvoices.
“Bleuetteeespretty!”thebirdsaid,inwhatsoundedlikeaFrench-accentedvoice.
“Isthatyourname?Bleuette?”
Theparrottilteditsheadasthoughitunderstood.Mostunnerving.“What’syourname,prettybird?”thebirdasked.
“Lorrie,”LadyLorraineanswered.“Nicetomeetyou,Bleuette.”
“Mylady,welcome.”MadameRenauldherselfwascomingtowardthem,dressedinblackandlookingjustaslovelyasalways,thoughshehadbeenupaslate,ifnotlater,thanModesty.“Ah!AndMeesBrown!Ihadhopedyouwouldcome.WhereeesMonsieur?”
“He’snotwithus,”Modestysaid,feelinghercheeksheat.
“Wecametoinquireafteryourassistant,”LadyLorrainesaid.“Ihopesheiswell.”
“Finelace!”theparrotinterjected,makingModestyjumpagain.
“Comeaway,”themodistesaid.“Bleuettewilltalktoyouallday.Infact,comeupstairswithme.Wecanspeakinprivatethereandperhapssometeawillsettleyourstomach,”shesaidtoLadyLorraine.Modestycouldn’thavesaidhowshe’dknownthelady’sstomachwasatallunsettled.LadyLorrainelookedmuchbetternowthatshewasonsolidgroundagain.Thecolorhadevenreturnedtohercheeks.
Modestyfollowedthemodisteupthestairsandoutoftheshop,movingslowlysoshecouldtakehertimeandseealltheshophadtooffer.Shehadwalkedbymanyshopslikethis,butshehadneverbeenabletodomorethanpeerinthewindowsandadmirefromadistance.Nowshewasamongtheboltsofbeautifulfabric,spoolsoflovelyribbon,andswathesofgorgeouslace.Shewouldhavelikedtorunherhandsoverallofit,holdittohernoseandinhaledeeply.
TheBiblesaidvanitywasasin,aswascoveting.But,oh,howshecovetedthebeautifulgownsondisplay,andhowshelongedtowearoneherself.Sheshouldbepleasedwiththeoneshehad.Neverhadshewornanythingasfineasthedarkbluedress.Shehadn’trealizedhowscratchyandstiffherblackclothingwas.Thematerialwasinexpensiveandrough.Sheimaginedsomeofthesesilkswouldmakethewearerfeelasthoughsheworenothingatall.
Modestyblushedatthatthought.Itwasnotthekindofthoughtsheshouldbehaving.Butshe’dhadmanysuchthoughtslately,andespeciallylastnightandthismorningafterthatkisswithRowdenPayne.She’dhadahardtimesleepinglastnightafterthatkiss.She’dwonderedifshewouldgotohellforherwantonness.Andthenshe’ddecidedshedidn’tcare.
Shewasfairlycertainshewouldabsolutelygotohellifshedidnotrepentforthedreamshe’dhadwhenshe’dfinallyfallenasleep.ShedreamedofRowdenPaynekissingherneckandhercollarbone,thenopeningherbodicetokissherbarebreasts.She’dwokentoowarm,andwithherbreastsfeelingheavyandsensitive,almostasthoughhishandshadbeenonthem.
“Sitdown,MeesBrown,”themodistesaid.“Youarenotusedtoclimbingtheesstairs.”
“I’mfine,”shesaid,butsheknewwhyMadameRenauldseemedconcerned.Modestycouldfeelhercheeksburning.
Oneoftheassistantsbroughttea,andLadyLorraineinquiredafterPhaedra.Afterthey’dhadsomerefreshmentandbeenassuredPhaedrawasrestingandbeinglookedafter,MadameRenauldhadrungforanotherassistantnamedBetsywhohadbroughtabeautifulwoolinadeepbrownwithredundertones—themodiste’swords,notModesty’s—forLadyLorraine.LadyLorraineexclaimedoveritandwastakentobemeasuredforanewwalkingdressandmatchingspencer.
Themodistestayedwhereshewas,andwhenLadyLorrainewasinthedressingchamber,MadameRenauldturnedherdarkgazeonModesty.
“Andwhatshallwemakeyou,MeesBrown?”
“Oh,nothing,thankyou.Ihavenomoney.”
Themodisteangledherheadtowardthesoundofvoicesintheadjoiningchamber.“Shewillpay.Shehasagenerousnature.OrIcansendthebilltoMonsieurPayne.Thewayhelookedatyoulastnightledmetobelievehewouldratherseeyouindéshabillé,butwemustleadthemanonamerrychase,no?”
Modestyshookherhead.“I’venever—”
Themodisteputahandonherknee.“Iamteasing.Butonlyaboutthemenchasing.Ineverteaseaboutfashion.Youmusthaveadaydressandawalkingdressanda—”
“Icannot!IhaveimposedonLadyLorraine’skindnesstoomuchasitis.”
“ThenIwillmakeyouadaydressasagift.”
“No!”
“IteestheleastIcandotorepayyou.”
Modestyshookherhead.“Ihavedonenothing.”
“Bah.Youhavebroughtherhere.”Sheindicatedthedressingchamber.“TohavethedaughteroftheDukeofRidlingtonandthewifeofawarheropatronizemyshopwillbringmemanycustomers.”
Modestywasstillshakingherhead,butthemodisterose.“Iinsist.Iwillmeasureyounowandwecanhaveadressforyouintwodays’time.”
“Soquickly?”Modestyasked,exciteddespiteherself.
“Foradaydress,oui.Aneveningdresswouldtakelonger,butyouwillwantnoembellishment,somesfillescanfinishlikethees.”Shesnappedherfingers.ShepulledModestyupandbroughthertothedaiswhereshecouldseeherreflectioninalargemirror.Themodistebegantounbuttonthebluedress,andModestypushedherhandsaway.
“Youcan’tmeasuremewiththedresson?”
“Ofcoursenot.Noneedforshynesswithme,MeesBrown.IhaveseenmorewomenthanIcancountintheirchemiseandstockings.”Shefinishedwiththebuttonsandstartedonthetapesandlaces.“WhenIfirstbegan,mycustomerswereoftenactressesandoperasingers.Somewerecourtesans.”
Modesty’seyeswidened.Shesawthemdosointhemirrorandimmediatelytriedtohidehershock.
“Theywouldoftenstripbare,wantingadressthatwouldnotaccommodateevenashiftandmightevenplungesolowthatstaysweremadeunnecessary.”
“Oh,dear.”Modestycouldnotimaginewearingsomethingsorevealing.Ontheotherhand,itseemedratherdaringandexcitingtodoso.
“Oui!Imadethemgownssorisquémynamebecametoo—whateestheword?”Shelinkedherhandstogether.
“Associated?”Modestyoffered.
“Oui.IwasassociatedwiththeesstyleandthateesonereasonIcametoEngland.Iwantedtostartover.”Shefinishedremovingthedressandpetticoats,andModestystoodinheroldchemiseandmuch-mendedstockings.Themodistedidnotcommentontheraggedunderthings,justtookthemeasuringstripfromapocketunderherdressandbegantomeasure.Shedidnotwriteanythingdown,justmutteredtoherselfinFrench.Fortunately,thesoundsshemadeseemedpositive.
ShepromisedModestyshewasalmostfinishedwhenLadyLorraineandBetsyreturnedfromtheotherchamber.Modestyfeltquiteexposedonthedaisinonlyherchemise,andshefeltmoresowhenLadyLorraine’smouthdroppedintoanO.
Modestyglancedinthemirrortoseewhatthemattermightbe.
“Iwouldhateherifshewerenotsogood,”LadyLorrainesaidtothemodiste.“Youshouldseetheblack,shapelessdresssheusuallywears.”ShenoddedtoModesty.“Ihadnoidea,eveninthebluedress,thatyouwerehidingthis.”
Modestylookeddown,confused.
“Sheeesquiteunaware,”themodistesaid,withaflourishofherhand.“Shehasnoidea.ButIwillmakeheradresssoexquisitethat—”Shebrokeoff,rememberingwhoshewasspeakingto.“Butofcourse,yourswillbeevenmoreexquisite.”
LadyLorrainelaughed.“Makeherthatexquisitedress.ShewillshowitoffbetterthanI.”Shetouchedherbelly.“Wereyouthinkingadaydress?”
“Oui.Ingreen,Ithink,tobringoutthegreeninhereyes.”
“Verygood.”SheleanedcloseandwhisperedsomethingtoMadameRenauldwhoseeyessparkledbeforeshenodded.
“MayIstepdownanddressnow?”Modestyasked.
“Ofcourse.”LadyLorrainenoddedtoBetsywhobegantohelpModestydress.“Weshouldn’twhisper.It’sterriblyimpolite.It’sjustthatyouhaveafiguremostwomenwouldenvy.”
Themodistenodded.“Yourmeasurementsarealmostperfect,andtheimperfectioneesinyourfavor.Suchatinywaistandsuchgenerousbosoms.Youwillshowmyfashionsperfectly.”
“Iwillweartheonedress,”Modestysaid.“Ican’tacceptmore.”
ButthewayLadyLorrainelookedatMadameRenauldgaveModestycausetosuspectthosetwohadotherplans.
Anotherquarterhourwasspentinpleasantconversation,andthenModestyandLadyLorrainestoppedinattheteashopandhadmoreteaandsmalldelicatesandwiches.EverythingtastedsowonderfulandsonewtoModesty,whohadspentallofherlifeeatingnothinggranderthanhardbreadandthinsoup.
Butshecouldn’tallowherselftogetusedtothissortoflife.Shehadnoideaifherauntwouldbefound,andifshewere,ifshewouldtakeModestyin.Withherfatherstillmissing,Modestywouldhavetorelyoncharityorfindapositionofherown.Withthepossibilityofhavingtosearchforworklooming,Modestyhadnotarguedtoomuchoverthenewdaydress.Aprettydressmighthelpsecureherapositionasashopgirl.PerhapsMadameRenauldneededsomeonetosweeporstraightenthedisplays.Shecouldsew,butnotwellenoughtobehiredasaseamstress.Butperhapsshecouldlearnonherdaysoffandthenshecouldhideawayinthebackoftheshopandnothavetopretendshewashappyandcheerfulwhenherlifehadbeencrushedintounrecognizablepieces.
Aftertea,theladiesreturnedhome,andoneofthemanservantsbroughtasilvertraywithlettersonittoLadyLorraine.Thoughtheladylookedtired,shetookthemailandbroughtittotheparlorwhereawindowprovideddecentlight,evenonagraywinterdaylikethis.Sheopenedoneletter,readit,tosseditaside,andopenedanother.Shedidthesamewithallfourletters,leavingoneunopenedandignored.
“Well,”shesaidfinally,lookingatModesty.“Ihavereceivedresponsestomyinquiriesregardingyouraunt.”
“Tellme,”Modestysaid.
“I’vehadfourresponses.YourauntisindeedunmarriedandstillcalledAugustaRyan.Oneofmyfriendsdoesnotknowheratall,andonehasheardofherandpassedthatinformationalong.AnotherofmyfriendsdoesnotknowherbutwasabletodiscoverthatshelivesinLondon.”
Modestyfeltherheartkickwithhappiness.
“Unfortunately,shecouldnotsayifshewasinTownatthemoment.AnotherfriendsaidthesameandcouldalsonotsaywhethershewasinTown.Thatfriendthinksyouraunthasgonetothecountrysideforthewinter.Apparently,yourmother’sfamilyhassomepropertyinShropshire?”
Modestyblinked.“Really?”
“Yourgrandfatherwasagentleman,andhiseldestsonprovidesforyouraunt.”SheliftedoneofthelettersandpassedittoModesty.“Seehere.”
Modestyreadtheletterslowly,skippingoverthegreetingsatthebeginningandthepoliteinquiriesaboutfamily.ThepartinthemiddlewasabouttheRyanfamily.TheyapparentlyhadlandinShropshireandwereknowntomanageitwell.Thesonhadmarriedandlivedonthatland,andtheolderdaughterhadnevermarried,butherbrotherprovidedforher.ShehadahouseinTown.Nooneknewwhathadhappenedtotheyoungersister.
Modestyreadthatlineagain.
Nooneknowswhatbecameoftheyoungersister.Perhapstherewereonlytwochildren.
Hermother’slifesummedupinfifteenwords.ForgottenbyherfamilyandbySocietyaftershehadmarriedSamuelBrown.Evenherhusbandhadseemedtoforgether.ButModestyhadnot.Andshewonderedwhyhermotherhadbeenforgotten.HadherfatherdisapprovedofhermarriagetoSamuelBrown?Itwaspossible.Hisreligiousviewswerestrictandunpopular.Hewouldhaveseenalandownerasasinner.MenweretogiveupalloftheirworldlypossessionstofollowChristandhelpthepoor.Noneofthemembersoftheirchurchhadanythingbutwhattheyabsolutelyneeded.
“Lookonthesecondpage,”LadyLorrainesaid,promptingModestytoturntheletterover.“ThatiswhereLadyLindseythinksMissRyanlivesinTown.Sheismymother’sdearfriend—LadyLindsey,thatis—soIsaythiswithaffection.Thewomanisquitethegossip.Sheknowseveryoneandeverything.Shallwegonowandknockonthedoor?”
Modestywantedtosayyes.Shewantedtorunallthewaytotheaddressgivenandpounduntilsomeoneansweredandgaveherinformation.ButshecouldseeLadyLorrainewastired.AndModestydidnotwanttoadmitthis,butshewasscared.WhatifherauntwasinShropshire?Howwouldshefindher?Couldsheshowuponherdoorstep,eventhoughshewasthechildofthesisterwhohadbeendisowned?
“Ifyoudonotmind,mightwegotomorrowmorning?Iamabitfatiguedfromourexploitstoday,andIwouldliketothinkhowIshouldgreetmyaunt.”
“Oh,ofcourse!”LadyLorrainesaid.“Iwillseetomycorrespondencewhileyourest.”
“Verygood.”
Modestywentbackuptoherchamberandtookthelettersfromthedrawerwhereshehadsecretedthem.Shedidnotwanttoreadthemagain,butshedidso.Thistimeshereadthemwithaneyetothementionofplaces,roads,andinns.Shenotedthatherfather’smistresslivedinBerkshire.ShealsomentionedthedistancefromLondonand…finally,Modestyfoundit.ThementionofHungerford.ShehadknownthereferenceMr.Paynemadewasfamiliar.Thewomanwhohadborneherfather’sillegitimatechildrenlivedjustoutsideHungerford.Modestydidnotknowifshewouldfindherfatherthere,butsheknewshemightfindsomeanswersabouthiswhereabouts.
Shefoldedthelettersagainandmadeadecision:ifherauntwasnotinLondon,ModestywouldasktogotoHungerfordwithMr.Payneandmeetherfather’smistress.Thirteen
Twodayslater,RowdenwasatMostyn’swithChibalewhenthemissivearrived.Hecalleditamissivebecauseitseemedhehadlittlechoicebuttorespond.He’dbeendrinkingwaterandwipingthesweatfromhisfacewhentheboyhadrunuptohimandheldthepaperout.Rowdenhadtakenitthenrealizedhedidn’thaveacoinasheworeonlyhisbreeches.ChibaleflippedthechildacoinandmotionedforRowdentogoaheadandreadit.
Stillheavingfromhisexertionswiththepunchingsack,heopenedtheletter.HereaditthenmarchedtoEwan’sofficeandwentinwithoutevenknocking.“Doyouknowanythingaboutthis?”
Ewanlookedupfromaledger.“No.”Helookeddownagain.
Rowdencrossedtothedesk.“Youdidn’tevenlookatit.It’sfromyourwife.”
Ewanlookedupagain,closedhiseyesbriefly,thenwentbacktohisledger
“Shewantsmetocometoyourhouse.Shedoesn’tevenask.Shetellsmetobethereatfour.”
Ewancheckedhiswatch.“Youshouldhurrythen.”
“Whydoesshewanttoseeme?”
Ewanshrugged.
“You’recomingwithme,”Rowdensaid.
“Ihavework,”Ewansaid.
Rowdenreachedoverandclosedtheledger.Ewanmadeasoundlikeagrowl.“It’syourwife.”
“Itrustyou.”Ewanopenedtheledgeragain.
“Imean,she’syourproblem,notmine.”Rowdenshuttheledger.
Ewanlookedupandnoddedattheletter.“Lookslikeshe’syourproblemrightnow.”HeopenedtheledgerandcaughtRowden’shandinapainfulgripbeforehecouldcloseitagain.
“Fine.Butdon’tblamemeifshetalksmeintosomedangerousscheme.”RowdenstormedoutoftheofficeandwenttoChibale.Hesnatcheduphisshirtandpulleditoverhishead.“We’regoingtoseeLadyLorraine.”
Chibalefrowned.“Why?”
“HowthehelldoIknow,butIwouldnotgoalone.You’recoming.”
“Ihardlyknowthewoman.”
Rowdenmadeahalf-heartedefforttotiehisneckcloththenpulledonhisstockingsandboots.Bythetimehehadhisarmsinhiscoat,Ewanwaswaitingbesidethem.Rowdenlookedathimandwasabouttomakesomepithycomment,butEwanlookedathimwithmurderinhiseyes.
ThethreemadetheirwaytoEwan’shome,ChibaletrailingbehindEwanandRowdenasthoughhe’dratherbeanywhereelse.However,whentheynearedthehouseandcaughtsightofthecarriageinfrontofit,ChibalepracticallysprintedinfrontofEwanandRowden.
“AndhereIthoughtyoudidn’twanttocome,”Rowdensaid,lessannoyedattheshortwalkthanhe’dexpected.Thecoldairfeltgoodafterhoursinthehotstudio.
Chibalelookedbackandpointedatthecoach.“ThatisMadameRenauld’scoach.”
RowdenlookedatEwan.“Whyisshethere?”
Ewanshrugged.“Whoisshe?”
“Themodiste,”Chibaleremindedhim.“YoubeattheBlackPlagueoutsidetheCockandBullforhittingherassistant.”
Henodded.“Oh,thatwaswhy.”
Rowdenlaughed.Ewanhadneverneededareasonforafight.
“Hurryup,”Chibalesaid,reachingEwan’sdooragoodminutebeforeRowdenandEwan.Ewanopenedthedoorandtheyenteredtoasmallvestibulefilledwithwomen.Therewereprobablyonlyfive,butitsoundedlikefarmorethanthat.RowdenpressedhimselfagainstawallandspottedMadameRenauld,LadyLorraine,andMissPhaedra,theassistant.HewonderedwhereModestyBrownhadgone.PerhapsherfatherhadreturnedorLadyLorrainehadsummonedhimtotellhimtheyhadreunitedMissBrownwithheraunt.
Everyonewastalkingatonce,butratherquickly,ChibaleescortedMadameRenauldoutsideandherassistantsfollowed.Ewantookhiswife’sarmandpulledherintoanopendoor.AndRowdenstoodinthevestibulewithanotherwoman.He’dthoughtshewasoneoftheassistantsatfirst,butnowherealizedshewasdressedtoowellinapalegreendaydress.Herauburnhairwaspulledoffherfaceandsecuredbycombs,butitrolledoverhershouldersinwaves.
Feelingasthoughheshouldintroducehimself,hesteppedforwardandlookedintoherface.Andthenhecouldnotspeak.
Becauseherecognizedtheeyes.Andsuddenlyhisgazewasalloverheragain,takingherinevenashetoldhimselfitwaswhollyinappropriate.
Buthowcouldhestophimself?Shewasutterlybeautiful.Ofcourse,he’dseenbeautifulwomenbefore.Hewasamanoftwoandthirty,notaboy.Hehadtostopgawkingatherandbehavelikeaman.
“Miss—”Heclearedhisthroatashisvoicecameoutragged.“MissBrown,youlook…different.”
Idiot.HewasasbadasChibale.
Hercheekscolored,andherealizedshedidn’tknowwhetherhewascomplimentingorcensuringher.“Imeantosay,youlooklovely.DidMadameRenauldmakethedressforyou?”
“Shedid,andthankyou.”Shewalkedtowardadoorandopenedittorevealaparlordecoratedinsoftshadesofyellowsandblues.ItwasmostlikelyusedbyLadyLorraine.“Mightwespeakinprivate?”
“Ofcourse.”
Whythedevilhadhesaidthat?Hewassupposedtobedistancinghimself.He’dtoldhergood-byethreenightsago.Andheknewitwasnotwisetobealonewithher,especiallynotnowthathewasrememberingtheirkiss.Hehadthoughtthatwasagood-byekiss.He’dwantedittobeagood-byekissbecausetherecouldn’tbemorebetweenthem.Hedidn’twantmore.
Sheenteredtheparlorandleftthedoorslightlyopenwhenhefollowed.Rowdenwasgladofthatandwaiteduntilshesatonacream-coloredchairbeforehefollowedononethatmatchedit.
“First,”shesaid,swallowingasthoughspeakingwashardforher.“Iwanttothankyouforyourkindnesstowardme.IcertainlydonotdeserveitafterIwaspartofthereasonyoulostyourfighttotheGerman.”
Rowdenwavedahand.“Thefaultismineforallowingmyselftobecomedistracted.”ThankGodshehadn’tlookedthatnightasshedidnow.Hewouldneverhaveseentheblowcomingandwouldhavetakenitfullforce.
“ButyoualsotookmeinfromthecoldandintroducedmetoLadyLorraine,whohasbeenfarmoregenerousthanIhavearighttoexpect.AndIfearIhaveimposedonhertoolong.”
“Idoubtthat,”Rowdensaid.“Shelikestotalk,andyouseemtobeagoodlistener.”
MissBrownsmiled.“Yes,butifIstayfurther,Iwillbetakingadvantage.AndIcannothelpbutthinkMr.Mostynmightliketoreturntohiseveningsalonewithhiswife.”
“ThenItakeityouhavenotbeenabletolocateyouraunt.”
Sheshookherhead.“SheisnotinLondonatthemoment,andweareuncertainwheresheresidesinShropshire.ItwouldbeevenmoredifficultformetotraveltoShropshire,especiallyasIdon’tknowwhatsortofwelcome,ifany,Iwillreceive.”
Rowdenwasbeginningtoseeherdilemma.ShecouldnotstaywithLadyLorraine,andshedidnothaveanywhereelsetogo.“Youdon’twanttogotoyourchurchforhelp,”hesaid.Ifshehad,shewouldnothaverelinquishedtheblacksacksheusuallywore.
Sheshookherhead.Sheseemedasthoughshewantedtosaymore,butinsteadshepressedherlipstogetherandswallowedhardagain.Rowdenhadtheurgetogotoher,tocomforther,buthecouldn’ttouchher.Thiswasalreadymorethanhewantedtoknow,moreinvolvedthanhewantedtobe.Hewaited,handsclenchedandfeelingimpotent.
Finally,shesmiledslightly.“Fromthelettersyouhelpedmefind,IhavecometounderstandthatmyfathermightbenearHungerford.Ifheisnotthere,awomanwholivestheremightbeabletogivememoreinformationabouthim.”
“Hungerford?”Rowdenfrowned.Thebackofhisneckwaspricklingominously.?“That’sacoincidence.”
“Perhapsit’sprovidence,”shecountered.“Divineprovidence.”
“Idon’tbelieveindivineprovidence.”
“I’mnotsureIdoeither,butthefactremainsthatyouaretravelingtoHungerfordsoon,andIalsowishedtotravelthere.Ihatetoaskanotherfavorofyou—”
“Thendon’t.”Hewouldn’tbeabletorefuseher.Hedidn’tknowwhyheseemedunabletorefuseherwhateversheasked—andeventhingsshedidn’task—butitseemedoutsidehiscapabilities.Hewasperfectlyabletorefuseotherwomen.WhyshouldModestyBrownbeanydifferent?
“Imust.WillyouescortmetoHungerford?”
“IwillbetravelingwithChibale.It’snotproperforyoutotravelwithtwomen.”
Sheshrugged.“I’mnotaladywithareputationthatmustbekeptpristine,andIcantrustyouandMr.Okoro,can’tI?”
“That’snotthepoint.”He’devadedherquestionbecausehedidn’twanttolie.Hedidnotthinkheshouldbetrustedalonewithher.“ButIsupposeLadyLorrainewillwanttocome.Ifsheisthere—”
MissBrownshookherhead.“Iwouldaskyoutotryanddissuadeher.Sheseemstiredlately,andIdon’tthinkajourneyoverbumpyroadswouldbegoodforherrightnow.”
“Youtryanddissuadeher.NoonebutMostyncanevertalkheroutofanythingshehashermindseton,andeventhenhe’sonlymoderatelysuccessful.”
Rowdenheardtheclickofnailsonthemarbleoutsidetheparlorandthentheparlordooropenedfurther.Asmallbrownandwhitedogtrottedin.“Who’sthis?”heaskedasthedognosedathisbootsandhislegandthenwenttoMissBrownandputhispawsonherknee,obviouslyaskingtobepickedup.Sheobligedhim.
“ThisisWelly.”Hesettledinherlapandshepattedhim.“Heisveryspoiled.”
“He’llleavehairalloveryournewdress.”
“Idon’tmind.Mr.Payne,youhaven’tansweredme.WillyoutakemewithyoutoHungerford?”
ThedoorswungopenfurtherandLadyLorraineentered,smiling,whileEwanscowledfiercelyjustbehindher.“Ofcourse,hewill,”LadyLorrainesaid.“We’llallgo.I’vealreadyspokentoEwan,andhethinksitwillbegreatfun.”
Rowdendidn’tthinkEwanlookedlikeamanwhowasabouttohaveagreatdealoffun.Helookedlikeamanwhowantedtohitsomeone.
Rowdendecidedratherthanbethatsomeone,hewouldtakehisleave.
***
OUTSIDE,THéRèSESENTPhaedraandBetsybackinthecarriageandtookMr.Okoro’sarm.Thedaywascoldbutsunny,andshewouldnothaveanotherchancetogooutsideuntilafterdark.“Areyousureyouhavetimetowalk?”Chibalehadasked.
“Oui.ThefittingwithMeesBrowntooklesstimethanIhadscheduled.Thedressfitherperfectly,butIsuspectevenifithadnot,shewouldnothavecomplained.”
“Iamcertainthatisawelcomechange.”
Shesmiledathim,lookingupintohishandsomeface.Hehadhighcheekbonesandlightbrowneyes.Heworehishatcockedtooneside,andasamodisteshecouldnothelpbutnoticehisclothingwasalwaysimpeccable.Hewasahandsomeman,anditwasnohardshiptotakehisarm.“WhendoyouleaveforHungerford?”sheasked.
“Afewdays.Mr.Payne’sfriendhasofferedtheuseofhiscarriages,sowewillnothavetorelyonthepubliccoach.”
“Idohopeyouwillcallonmebeforeyougo.”
Heglancedather,andshegavehimadirectlook.SometimestheseEnglishweresoobtuse.
“Iwouldlikethat,”hesaid.“Infact,Iwouldextendadinnerinvitation.”
Thérèsecouldimagineacozydinnerinherflatwithdessertinthebedchamber.“Iwillhavemycookordersomethingforus.”
“Actually,”hesaid,“mymotherandfatherwouldlikeyoutodinewithus.”
Thérèsestoppedwalking.“Youareinvitingmetodinewithyourfamily?”
“Yes.Mymotherandfatherwouldliketomeetyou.Andyoualreadyknowmysister,Bethanie.Ihavetwobrothersaswell.”
Shestaredathim,uncomprehending.Shewasnotthesortofwomanmenbroughthometomeettheirmamas.Thérèsedidnotwanttobethesortofwomanmenbroughthometomeettheirmamas.“Whydon’twediscussitoverdinnertonight?”sheasked.“Justthetwoofus.”
Helookedasifhemightobject,butthenhesmiledandinclinedhishead.“WhattimeshouldIarrive?”
***
THéRèSEOPENEDTHEdoortohimatpreciselynineo’clockthatnight.Hewaspunctual,whichwassomethingshelikedinaman.Hewasalsodressedinabluecoatofsuperfine,tightfawnbreeches,andascarletandgoldwaistcoatthatemphasizedhistrimwaist.Thelookofhimwasdefinitelysomethingsheliked.“I’vegivenmymaidthenightoff,soIwillhavetotakeyourgreatcoat,”shesaid,hangingitonthecoattree.“Andyourhat.”Shetookitaswell.”Shewouldhavelikedtotaketherestofhisclothing,butshedidn’twanttoscarehimawaybymovingtoofast.
Inherdrawingroom,shepouredhimaglassofwineandaskedhimabouthimself,whileskillfullyavoidingansweringanythingaboutherself.Heclearlylovedhisparentsandsiblings.Theyseemedacloseandhappyfamily.
Assheserveddinner,heaskedaboutherfamily,andshetoldhimtheywereinFranceandlittleelse.Whatshouldshetellhim?Thathermotherhadbeenahigh-paidcourtesanandshedidnotknowwhoherfatherwas?Thatshehadlearnedtosewbecausehermotherneedednewdressestoattractprotectorswhenshewasbetweenlovers?ThathermotherhadsoldThérèse’svirginitytothehighestbidderwhenshe’dbeenbarelyawomanandthatmanhadbeensopossessive,hehadalmostkilledherbeforeshewasfinallyabletoescapehim?Herchildhoodhadnotbeenfulloflaughteraroundthedinnertableorhermothermakingcurrantbunsinthekitchen.
Butthenthetopicmovedtopugilism,andshelikedthewayChibale’seyeslitwhenhespokeofit.“Myolderbrotherwilltakeoverthefamilybusiness,”hesaid.“AndI’veneverhadmuchinterestinimportingorexporting,butmyfatherusedtotakemetoGentlemanJackson’stowatchthementrain,andInevertiredofthat.”
“Whataboutitappealed?”sheasked.
“Thegraceofmovement,”heanswered,“andthedanger.Onewrongmove,andit’sover.Butthecombinationofrightmovesisathingofbeauty.”
“Anddidyoueverbox?”
Henodded.“Ididabit,butIsoonrealizedIwasmuchbetteratteachingthandoing.RowdenPayneismythirdmillingcove,andtheothertwobeforehimretiredwithfatpurses.”
“AndwhatwillyoudowhenMr.Payneretires?”sheasked.
Heshrugged.“Findanothermanwithrawtalent.PerhapsthenextTomCribborMendoza.”
They’dfinisheddinner,sosheroseandofferedherhand.Hetookitandstood.“Ilikeyourambition,”shesaid.
“Ilikeyours.”
“Shallwehavedessert?”Sheledhimtoherbedchamber,whereafirewasblazing,andthebedclotheshadbeenturneddown.Releasinghishand,shesteppedbacktowardthebed.Helookedabout.
“Whereisdessert?”
“Here.”Sheopenedherarms,invitinghimtocometoher.Tohersurprise,hehesitated.
“Areyousure?”
Shenodded.“Iamperfectlycertain.You?”
Hecametoher.“IknowexactlywhatIwant.”Hekissedherthen,andThérèse,whohadexpectedtodictatetheeventsoftheevening,foundshewasnotquitesoincontrolasshehadplanned.Herheadspunashislipsslantedoverhers,makingitdifficultforhertoremembershewassupposedtobeseducinghim.Whenhefinallypulledback,shecaughtherbreathandwenttoworkundressinghim.Shepushedthecoatoverhisbroadshouldersanddownhisarmsandloosedhisneckcloth.Nextcamehisshirt,whichsheunfastenedattheneckthenpulledoverhishead.
Lookingathismuscledchest,itwasdifficulttobelievehewasnottheonewhowastheprizefighter.Hewaspowerfullybuiltwithatight,flatstomachthatshehadtheurgetokiss.Inthefirelighthisskinglowedwarmandburnished.Shetrailedherfingersoveritthentrailedkissesaswell.
Hesweptherupinhisarmsandlaidheronthebed,comingoverherandkissingheruntilshewashotandwrigglingforrelease.“Iwanttoseeyou,”hesaid,hisvoiceraggedwithneedinherear.“Iwanttotouchyou.Everywhere.”
Hehelpedherunfastenherdress.She’dwornoneshecouldremoveherself,butherhandsweresuddenlyshaky,andshefeltclumsyandinept.Hestrippedherofthedressthentheunderthingsuntilshewasinnothingbutherchemiseandheinnothingatall.Kneelingacrossfromeachother,heloweredthesleeveofherchemiseandkissedhershoulderthenherneckthenherearasherevealedherbreasts.Hismouthsoonventuredtohernipples,takingthemgentlybetweenhisteethandmakinghergroanwithneed.Heseemedinnohurry,thoughshecouldseehewasarousedandready,buthetookhistimeexploringherbody,revealingitlittlebylittleandthenkissingeachpartand—shedidnotknowhowelsetoputit—worshippingheruntilhemovedtothenext.
Whenhereachedhersex,shethoughtthetorturewouldfinallyend.Hewouldseeshewaswetandready,andhewouldpushherbackandtakeher.Shewantedhimtotakeher,roughandhard.Hedidpushherback,buthemadenomovetoleverhimselfoverher.Instead,hekissedherbellythenthethatchofdarkhairatthejunctionofherthighs,thenpartedthosethighsandkissedherthere.Thérèsehadbeenwithmorementhanshelikedtocount,andnomanhadevershownherthismuchcareandtenderness.Nomanhadeverlickedandsuckedandsettledbetweenherthighsasthoughhehadallthetimeintheworldtomakesuresheclimaxed.
“Iwantyouinsideme,”shesaid,hervoicesoundinglikesomeoneelse’s,someoneweakandneedyandonthevergeofecstasy.
“There’stimeforthatyet,”heanswered,hisvoicerumblingagainstherthighsandmakinghershiver.Hespreadherlegswider,andshegaspedashepressedafingerinsideher,allthewhilehisskilledmouthmovingoverherinthemostintimateofstrokes.Shecouldn’tholdbackanylonger.Herbodypulsedandshecriedout,hermusclestighteningandthenreleasingwiththemostdelicioussatisfaction.
Nowhewouldplungeinsideher.Nowhewouldtakeher,buthedidnot.Hecontinuedhisexplorationofherbody,kissingherlegsandherkneesandheranklesandevenhertoes.
“Chibale,s’ilvousplait,”shemurmured.Hewasworkinghiswayupagain,andthoughsheshouldfeelsated,shewasbeginningtofeeltheneedforhimagain.“MustIbeg?”sheasked.
“Never,”hesaid,andtoherpleasure,hesettledhimselfbetweenherlegs.Thefeelofhim,largeandpowerfuloverherandagainsther,wasatoncefrighteninganderotic.Andwhenheslidintoher,shegaspedwiththepleasureofit.Butthoughshehadthoughtshewantedroughandhard,hedidnotgiveherthat.Hetookherslowly,carefully,gently.
She’dneverbeentakenthisway,neverbeen…shedidnotknowhowtodescribeitexcepttothinkshewasbeingcherished.Ashemovedinsideher,hiseyesmethers.Heshowedhertherhythmheliked,andshematcheditthenvariedit,andtheyfoundarhythmtheybothenjoyed.Sheraisedherhips,andheangledhigher,givinghermorepleasureeachtimehesliddeep.Theactbecamenotsomethinghewasdoingtoher,butsomethingtheydidtogether.
Andwhenhebroughthertoclimaxagain,sheclungtohim,holdinghimtightlyashecameamomentlater.Heheldhertightlyafterward,theirbodiesbothgaspingforair,theirheartsseemingtobeatinunison.
Thérèsedidnotknowwhattodo,howtofeel.She’dwantedtotakehimtobed.She’dhopedforpleasure.Shehadn’texpectedanexperiencelikethis.Shehadn’tknowntherewassuchanexperienceasthis.
Finally,herolledaway,lyingbackwithonearmbehindhishead.Shelookedoverathim,andshecouldn’thelpbutfeelshewantedtolookoverathimlikethateverynight.
“Now,Ireallymustintroduceyoutomyfamily,”hesaid.
Thérèsepulledthesheetuptocoverherself.“Thereeesnohurry.Iratherlikeourintimatedinners.”
“Ilikethemtoo,”hesaid.Herolledtofaceher.“Iespeciallylikedessert.”
Shesmiledandrelaxedslightly.
“ButIwantmorethanthis.”Heindicatedthebed.“Iwantmorethanafewweeksormonthsinyourbed.”
Thérèseclenchedthebedclothes.
“Iwanttomarryyou.”
Thewordswerelikeaknifeinherheart,andshejerkedasthoughstabbed.
“What’swrong?”heasked.
Sheroseandpulledonarobe.“Iamnotthekindofwomanyoumarry,”shesaid,cinchingtherobeatherwaistandturningtofacehim.”
“YouseemexactlythekindofwomanIwanttomarry.”Hesatup,stillnotbotheringtocoverhimself.Andwhyshouldhe?Hewassobeautiful,andhonest,andshewasso…scared.
“Iamnotlookingtomarry,”shesaid.“Ifthateeswhatyouassumed,thenIamsorrytohavemisledyou.”
“Ididn’tassumeanything,”hesaid.“I’mtellingyouwhatIwantsothereisnoconfusionbetweenus.”
“Thenletmebeequallyforthright,”shesaid.“Iwillnevermarry.”Fourteen
ThenextmorningModestymadeherwaydownthestairs,valiseinhand.ShepausedwhenMr.Mostynopenedthedoorforamaninablackcoatthencloseditagainbehindhim.Hersteps,whichhadbeenrapidandfullofexcitementandtrepidation,slowed.SomethingaboutthewayMr.Mostynheldhimselfconcernedher.Hewasusuallyloose-limbed,movinglikeaprowlinglion.Thismorninghewasstiffandalmostwooden.
“Issomethingamiss?”sheasked.Itwasprobablythefirsttimeshehadspokentohimdirectly.Hestillmadehernervous.
Helookedupather,andshesawhiseyeswerered-rimmed.Modesty’sbellytightenedandsheimaginedthefeelingakintoablow.
“No,”hesaid,thoughshecouldseethatplainlyhehadbeencrying.Andthentohershock,hesathardonthemarbleflooroftheentryway.Modestydidn’tthink.Shewenttohimandputherhandonhisshoulder.Shehaddonethisthousandsoftimesovertheyearswithparishionersinherfather’schurch.Shehadmournedwiththemasoftenasshehadrejoicedwiththem,perhapsevenmore.
“Whatisit?”sheasked,kneelingbesidehim.“IsitLadyLorraine?”Sheswallowedhard,notwantingtosaymorebutforcingherself.“Isitthebaby?”
Henodded.
Modestyfeltcoldallover,andherskinprickledasthoughiciclestrailedoverit.“Shallwepray?”sheasked.
Mostyngaveherahelplesslook.“Yes.”
Andsosheprayed.Shesaidtheprayershehadheardherfathersaysooftenintimesoftrouble,andshetriedveryhardtobelieveGodheardherprayer.InthislastweekshehadbeguntofeeltherewasnoGod,oriftherewas,hedidnotcareabouther.ItscaredhertothinkthatforyearsshemighthavedevotedherselftoaGodwhoeitherdidnotexistorwas,atbest,indifferenttoher.Butthenshe’dbelievedherfatheradifferentmanthanhewas,andshe’dbelievedhermotheradifferentwomanthanshewas.Andmaybeshe’dbeenwrongaboutGodtoo.
Aftertheprayer,theysatinsilenceforalongtime.Mostpeoplewantedtotalkabouttheirfearsandsadness,butMostynseemedtobecomfortableinthesilence.Modestydidn’twanttopry,butshealsoknewthecarriagetakinghertoHungerfordwouldarrivesoon,andshedidnotknowifsheshouldstaytobewithLadyLorraine.
“MayIseeLadyLorraine?”
Mostynnoddedslightly.“She’sinthebedchamber.”
ModestyroseandwentinthedirectionshehadseenLadyLorrainegowhenretiring.Shefoundherlady’smaid,Nell,outsidethedoor,handkerchiefpattinghereyes.ModestystoppedandputahandonNell’sarm.“Youmustbestrongnow,”shesaid.“Sheneedsyou.”
Nellnodded.“Iknow.I’mtrying.”
“Ifindhavingatasktodosometimeshelpsinhardtimes.WouldyoumaketeaforLadyLorraineandbringatray?”
Nellnodded.“Yes.Yes,Icandothat.”SheleftandModestyopenedthedoor.
Thedaywasgray,butthecurtainswereopentoallowwhatlittlelighttherewastopenetratetheroom.Itwasawarmroom,thewallspaperedinblueandthelargemahoganybeddrapedinwhite.LadyLorrainelookedsmallunderthewhitebedsheets,butModestyfoundher.Shewassitting,onehandonthebackofherdogwhohadsnuggledinbesideher.
“Oh,MissBrown,”LadyLorrainesaid.“Iamsosorry.IwillnotbeabletogotoHungerford.”
Modestywavedahand.“Don’ttroubleyourselfwiththat.Tellmewhat’shappened.Isthebaby…”Shedidnotknowhowtofinish.Obviously,thebabywasnotwellorthedoctorwouldnothavebeenthere.
“Thedoctorsayshethinksthebabyisfine.I’vehadsomebleeding,andhesaysImustrestandbequietandstillforafewdays.IfIcandothat,thenthechildmightbesaved.”
ModestywenttoherkneesandgraspedLadyLorraine’shand.“Oh,mylady.Iblamemyself.”
“Don’tberidiculous.It’snoone’sfault.Andgoodness,aftertheconfidenceIhavejustshared,wouldyoucallmeLorrie?”
Modestynodded.“IshouldnothaveaskedyoutocometoHungerfordwithme.Youhavebeendoingtoomuch.”
Lorrieshookherhead.“Youdidnotaskme.Iinvitedmyself,andIalwaysdotoomuch.Idon’tliketobeidle.Besides,thedoctorsaidnooneistoblame.Notyou.NotEwan,thoughheblameshimself,ofcourse.”
Modestyfrowned.“WhywouldMr.Mostynbetoblame.”
“Hethinksbecausewe…”ShepausedandshedidnotneedtofinishforModesty’scheekstoheat.Lorriesmiled.“Yes,that.Becauseofthathecausedthebabyharm.Youthinkit’sbecauseIwasreadyingtotraveltoHungerford.Nellthinksitisbecause…well,Idon’tknowwhysheblamesherself,butshedoes.ButthedoctorsaysifIrestforafewdays,Ishouldbefine.”Shebitherlip.“Butnotraveling.Hedoesn’twantmebouncedabout.”
“Ofcourse.IwilltellMr.PayneIcannotgo.MayIuseyourparlortowritehimaletter?”
“No.”Lorrie’shandtightenedonhers.“YouwillgotoHungerford.Yousaidyourselfyoudonotneedmeasachaperone.Besides,youwillstaywithLordNicholasandhissister,LadyFlorentia.TheyliveafewmilesoutsideofHungerford,andIhaveheardtheirestateisbeautiful.It’sallarranged.”
“Idon’twanttoleaveyoualone.”
“AndIwon’tbethereasonyoudon’tfindyourfather.IfheisinHungerford,youneedtofindhim.Besides,Iwon’tbealone.Ewanwillhoverovermeuntilhedrivesmemad,andifyouwouldn’tmind,I’dlikeyoutowritetomymother,theDuchessofRidlington.Askhertocomeforafewdays.”
Modestytookabreath.“Youwishmetowritetoaduchess?”
“Ipromiseyoushereadslefttorightlikeanyoneelse.Funnyhowintimeslikethesewewantourmothersatoursides.”
Modestynodded.Sheunderstoodthatsentiment.Shehadwantedhermotherthispastweekquiteoften.
“Thengivemeakissandstartwriting.LordRowdenandMr.Sterlingwillbeherewithinthehour,andyoudon’twanttomakethemwait.”
ModestykissedLorrie’scheekandwentoutoftheroom.Mostynwaswaitingontheothersideofthedoor.“She’sfine,”Modestysaidbecausesheknewhewonderedbutwouldn’task.“Shewantedmetowritetohermotherandaskhertostayforafewdays.”
Mostyngaveherapainedlook,andshepattedhisarmthenwenttotheparlortowritetheletter.Shewasstillsittingthere,lookingovertheletterandhopingshe’daddresseditproperlywhenMr.Paynearrived.Sheheardhisvoiceintheentrywayandwenttomeethim,letterinhand.“Mr.Payne,Lorrie—LadyLorraine—isnotfeelingwell.Shewon’tbetravelingwithus,andsheaskedmetowritetohermother.I’veneverwrittentoaduchess.HaveIdoneitcorrectly?”
Heseemedtoabsorballofthisinformationquicklyandheldhishandouttotakethesheetofpaper.Hereaditquicklythenhandeditbackandnodded.“It’sperfect.”
“HowdoIaddressit?”
“Thedukeandduchessareattheircountryhome?”heasked.
“Yes.”
“I’lldoit.”
Shefollowedhimintotheparlor,wherehefoldedthepaperintoanotherandwroteontheoutside,HerGraceTheDuchessofRidlingtonthenscribbledthenameoftheircountryhomeandtheotherparticulars.“Doesshehaveaseal?”heasked.
“There.”Modestypointedtotheheavygolditem.
Paynemeltedabitofwax,swirleditonthebackofthepaper,andpressedthesealintoit.Thenhecarriedittotheentryway,flickedafingeratafootman,andhandedthelettertotheman.“Havethissentimmediately.”Hehandedtheservantafewcoins.“Forthepost,”hesaid.
Modestywatchedhim,impressed.Ifshehadharboredanydoubtshewasthesonofaduke,shedidnotnow.Hehadanauthoritythatdidnotbrookargument.He’dobviouslygrownupinaworldofprivilegeandknewhowtonavigateit
“How’sMostyn?”heasked.
“He’swithhernow,”shesaid,decidingitwouldbebestnottopointouthe’dbeencryingearlier.Shewasnogossip.
“Igatherfromthelettershehasn’tlostthebaby,butit’stenuous?”
Modestydidnotknowhowtoanswerwithoutsayingsomethingthatwouldmakehercheeksflame.“Shesaysthedoctorthinksallwillbewellwithrest.”
Mr.Payneletoutabreath.“Restisn’tinhernature,butEwanwillstrapherdownifhehasto.Isupposeit’sjustthetwoofusthen.”
Modestylookedupsharply.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Mr.Sterling,whohasgivenustheuseofhiscarriage,hasbusinessinTownandcan’tgetawayuntiltomorrow.HehasanothercarriageandwillmeetusatBattle’sPeak.”
“Battle’sPeak?”
“That’sthenameofLordNicholas’sestate—well,hisbrother’sestate,buthisbrotheris…Idon’tknowwherethehellhisbrotheris.Inanycase,wewillbelodgingthere.”
“AndMr.Okoro?”
Mr.Payneranahandthroughhishair,touslingitinawayshefoundveryattractiveandverytemptingtosmoothbackintoorder.“Hewillcomeseparatelythiseveningortomorrow.Hesentaletterveryearlythismorningtosayhewasunavoidablydetained.”
“Isee.”Shestraightenedhershoulders.“Well,asIsaid,Idonotneedachaperone.”
“LadyFlorentiaisatBattle’sPeak,andSterlinghasequippeduswithtwooutridersandacoachman.Ithinkyou’llbewellprotected.”
Butthosemenwouldbeoutsidethecarriage,andshewouldbealoneinside.Withhim.
***
ROWDENWATCHEDMISSBrown’seyeswidenasshesettledintoAidan’scarriage.Rowdenthoughttheinteriorlookedmorelikeadrawingroomthanacarriage.Therewasroomforbothofthemtostretchtheirfeetoutorafootrestcouldbesuppliedwiththepullofalever.Theinteriorwascoveredinthesameplushfabricasthesquabs,andtheceilinghadbeenpaintedwithamuralintheGreekstyle.Apanelinthewallopenedtosupplywineandwateronherside,andsomethingabitstrongeronhis.Aidanknewhisdrinkofchoicewasbrandyandsodaandhadmadesurebothwerestocked.Anotherpanelrevealedwrappedsandwiches.Onherside,thatsamepanelheldapillowandslippers.Avelvetblanketincreamhadalreadybeentuckedaboutherandawarmbrickwasatherfeet.
Shelookedabitlikeaprincesswrappedinvelvet.Butinsteadofacrown,sheworeasimplebonnet,herhairgatheredatthenapeofherneckinafierycoil.
He’dbeenannoyedatChibaleandAidanforabandoninghim,forleavinghimsolelyresponsibleforMissBrown.Buthe’ddecidedtomakethebestofit.Hecouldkeeptheirrelationshipshallowandplatonic.Hedidnothavetoinviteanyintimacy.
“Mr.Sterlingmustbeverywealthy,”shesaidastheystartedaway.Rowdensmiled.Speakingofmoneywasextremelygauche,butitdidn’tbotherhim.Helikedthatshewaswithoutpretense.
“Somesayhe’stherichestmaninEngland.”
“Whatabouttheking?”sheasked.
“Definitelyricherthantheking,”heanswered.Andthenbecausehewantedtoseehercheekspinkenagain,hesaid,“It’smyunderstandingthatyourseatpullsoutintoabed.”
Hercheeksdidturnrosy.“Isupposethatisincasethetravelerisforcedtoshelterinthecarriageduetoastorm.”
Hegrinnedather.“Iimaginethat’sagoodreasonforabedtoo.”Rowdenopenedthepanelwiththewrappedsandwiches.“Refreshment?”heasked.
Sheshookherhead.“I’veonlybrokenmyfastacoupleofhoursago.”
“Thenyoumustbehungryagain.”Hehandedherasandwichandopenedhisown.Shelaidhersdownandpeeredoutthewindow.
“HaveyoubeenoutofLondonbefore?”heasked.
Shenodded.“Once.WhenIwasyoung,myfathertookustoBath.Itwaslovely.”
“DidyoutrythewateratthePumpRoom?”heasked.Speakingofdrinks,hewasthirsty.Heopenedtheotherpanelandfixedabrandywithsoda.Hecoulddefinitelybecomeusedtothis.
“Idid,butthewaterwashorrible,”shesaid.“Areyoudrinkingbeforenoon?”
Heraisedhisglass.“Wantone?”
Sheshookherhead.“Idon’tdrinkspirits.They—”Thensheseemedtoreconsider.“Iwouldlikeone.”
Rowdenhadn’tthoughtshewouldagree,buthepouredheradrinkanywayandpasseditover.Shetasteditandcockedherhead.“Thisisn’tbad.”
Rowdensippedagain.“You’redrinking.”Hegesturedtoherdress.“Wearingcolors.Attendingmills.Whateverwasinthoselettersmusthavebeenmomentous.”
Shepursedherlipsanddrankagain.Rowdenmentallyslappedhishead.Whyhadhesaidthat?Itwasthesortofcommentthatinvitedintimaterevelations
“Inolongerseethepointinstandingonstreetcornersyellingatpeople.Totellthetruth,Ineversawthepointofthat.OrthepointofdressingasthoughI’minmourning.IdiditbecauseIwantedtoobeymyparents.”
“Andyoudon’twanttoobeythemanymore?”
“No,Idon’t,”shesaid,finishingherdrinkandhandingtheglassbacktohim.Hewasabouttoreplaceitinthecabinet,whenshesaid,“Another,please.”
Rowdennarrowedhiseyes.“That’sprobablynotagoodidea.”
“I’mtiredofalwaysbeinggood.It’sallalie,youknow.It’sallpretense.”
“Ididn’tknowthat,no,”Rowdensaid,pouringherasplashofbrandyandagreatdealmoreofsoda.
Shetooktheglassback.“AlloftheseyearswhilehewaspretendingtobeamanofGod,hewaslyingandgoingagainsthisownteachings.”
Carefulhere,hetoldhimself.Steplightly.“Isupposeyourfatherishuman,justlikeeveryoneelse.Hemadeamistake.Ormistakes.”
“Fortwentyyears?That’snotamistake.”Shesetherglassdown,andRowdenwasrelievedsheseemedtobedrinkingthisoneslower.“Andmymother.”TearsweregatheringinhereyesnowandRowdengroanedsilently.
“Sheknew,andshejustlookedtheotherway.”
Rowdendidnotconsiderhimselfaparticularlyintelligentman,butneitherwasheafool.Quiteclearly,she’ddiscoveredherfatherhadamistressandhermotherhadknownaboutit.Sheswipedatateartrailingdownhercheek,andRowdensworeunderhisbreath.Iftherewasonethinghecouldnotstomach,itwastears.Theymadehimnervousanduncomfortable.Alreadyhecouldfeelthebackofhisneckgrowingwarmandhadtheurgetogetaway.
Buthecouldn’tgetawayunlesshewantedtojumpfromamovingcoach.Thatbeinganattractivebutalsounpalatableoption,hecrossedtositbesideher.Sheimmediatelythrewherselfintohisarms,andthefeelofherbodypressedagainsthismadehimforgetthathedidn’trelishtearstainsonhiscoat.
Hepattedherbackandshushedherandmurmuredsoothingwords.Whenshe’dfinallyquieted,hefoundhimselfthinkingbacktohisrelationshipwithhisownparents.Hisfatherhadalwaysbeenratheraremotefigure.RowdenandhissiblingshadseenthedukeinpassingashereturnedfromParliamentandleftforhiscluborwhentheychancedtopassbyhisstudyandhissolicitorwasleavingandtheycaughtaglimpseofhimfromthecrackinthedoor.
Theirmotherhadbeenkindbutalwaysflittinghereandthere.She’dhadballsandsoireesanddinnerstoattend.Rowdenrememberedherinacloudofperfumeandsilk.Ashe’dgottenolderandbeenhomefromschoolonholidays,hehadcometoseethemabitmore.Thosewereformaleveningsinthedrawingroomoratdinner.Theytookaninterestinhim,buttheyhadseveralchildren,andallofthemviedfortheirparents’attention.Rowdenfelthehardlyknewhisparentsortheyhim.
Hedidnotarguewhenhisfathertoldhimheshouldbecomeasoldier.RowdenwasjustgladhewouldnothavetobecomeaclergymanorjointheNavy.Hewasgivenacommissioninthemilitiaandquarteredinthecountryside,wherehewasabletoattendballsandinvitedtodinnersbythemamasofprettygirls.Itwasatoneofthosedinnersthathe’dmetMary.
Hedidn’twanttothinkaboutMary,andhedidn’twanttoholdModestyBrown.ItseemedthateverytimehetriedtoescapeMissBrown,heendedupthrowntogetherwithheranyway.Butthatdidn’tmeanhehadtogiveintotemptation.He’dmadethatmistakewhenhe’dmetMaryatthetenderageofeighteen.Hewasamannow,andheknewhisownmindmuchbetter.Andhedidnotintendtoevermarry,toeverfallinloveagain.
“It’sahardlessonwhenwerealizeourparentsarenottheparagonsofperfectionwe’vemadethemtobeinourheads,”hesaid.Sheliftedherfaceandlookedupathim.Hewaspleasedtoseeshe’dstoppedcrying.
“Ihadn’tthoughtofitthatway.IsupposeIdidthinkofmyfatherandmotherasperfect,butofcourse,nooneiswithoutsin.”
Hepushedastrandofauburnhairoffhercheekandtuckeditbehindherear.“That’swhatIhear,”hesaid.Buthewashavingahardtimefindinganyfaultwithher.Thosebeautifulhazeleyeswerelookingintohis,andhecouldlosehimselfinthem.
“Ithinkthebrandyhasgonetomyhead,”shesaid.“IfeellikeI’mfloating.”
“I’llkeepyoutetheredtoearth.”
“Ilikeitwhenyouholdme,”shesaid.
Rowdenraisedhisbrows.“Ithinkthedrinkhasdonemorethancreatethesensationoffloating.”
“Everyonesaysspiritsloosenthetongueandthemorals.Isupposeit’struebecauseIcan’tstopthinkingthatIwishyouwouldkissmeagain.”
Rowdencarefullysetherbackandtriedtomoveaway.“That’snotagoodidea.”
“Itrustyou,”shesaid.
Helaughed.“That’soneofus.”
Shefrownedathim.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Thenletmemakeitclear.”Hemovedcloseragainbecausehewantedtoscareheralittle,letherunderstandthathewasnotsomeonetoplaywith.“Iwantyou,Modesty.I’vewantedyousinceIfirstsawyouinthatuglydressandhat.Iwantedtostripitoffyouandseewhatlaybeneath.”
Hereyes,soexpressivealready,widened.
“AndeverytimeIseeyou,Iwantyoualittlebitmore.”
Shebitherlip,andhewantedtogroanattheachethatcaused.Hewantedtotakethatmouthwithhis,feelhersmallwhiteteethnipathim.
“Iwanttokissyouagain,butIdon’twanttostopatkissingyou.AndIhavetostoptherebecauseIdon’tintendtomarryyou.That’snotaslight.Idon’tintendtomarryanywoman,andyou’renotthekindofwomanIcanhavewithoutmarrying.Doyouunderstand?”
Shenodded.Hethoughtthatwouldbetheendofit.Heevenbegantomovebackacrosstheseat,butshegrabbedhishand.“Idon’tintendtomarryeither.”
Rowdenshookhishead,slowly.“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.You’reyoung.You’llchangeyourmind.”
“Iwon’t,”shesaid,releasinghim.
Hemovedbacktohisseatandliftedhisbrandy,suddenlythirsty.“Whyisthat?”
“Becauseit’salie.Iusedtothinkitwasasacredcovenant.Ofcourse,Iknewsomemenandwomenbroketheirvows,butnotthemenorwomenIknew.Notmenlikemyfather.Iwasafool.Mypoormotherwasmadetolooklikeafool.Iwon’ttakethatsamepath,acceptthatsamefate.”
Heunderstoodnowthatthecontentsofthelettershadchangedeverythingforher.Rowdenwantedtotellhertherewaslittlehermothercouldhavedone,buthedidn’tthinkthatwasthepoint.She’dlookeduptohermotherandherfather,emulatedthem,andthenrealizedshe’dbeenemulatingalie.
“What’sinHungerford?”heasked.
“Myfather’sotherwife.Well,hecallsherwife.Idon’tknowifhemarriedheraftermymother…”Shemadeagesturewithherhand,andRowdenheldhisbreath,hopingshedidnotbegintocryagain.
Shedidn’t.
“Ifyoudon’tintendtomarry,whatdoyouintend?Mostwomenmarryoutofnecessity,notlove.”
Shestraightened—oratleasttriedtostraighten.Shewasabitdisheveledinawayhefoundremindedhimofawomanjustrisingfrombed.“Ihavebeenthinkingaboutthat.Iwouldmakeagoodlady’scompanion,don’tyouthink?”
Hedidn’twanttomentionthatlady’scompanionswereusuallytheimpoverisheddaughtersofgentry.“LadyLorrainewouldnodoubtgiveyouareference,”hesaid.Andthiswastrueandmightbeenoughtosecureherapositionthat,whileitmightnotbeintheupperclasses,couldmeanaplacementwitharespectableladyofmodestmeans.
“Doyouthinkitwouldbepresumptuoustoaskher?”
“No,”Rowdensaid.“YoushouldaskwhenyoureturntoTown.”
Shenoddedthenlookedathimfromunderloweredlashes.“Didyoumeanwhatyousaidafewmomentsago?”
Rowdenknewexactlywhatshewasreferringto,buthewouldrathernotbringitupagain.“Idon’trememberwhatIsaidafewmomentsago.Andyoushouldprobablyforgetitaswell.”
***
CHIBALESHOULDBEONthewaytoHungerford.Heshouldbewithhisfighter.HeshouldbeenjoyingthecomfortsofMr.AidanSterling’scoach.Instead,hewasstillinLondon,stillathome,tryingtodecidehowhecouldchangeThérèse’smind.
Hismotheralwayssaidonceawoman’smindwasmadeup,therewasnochangingit.Shelikedtosayshe’dmadeuphermindtomarryGambaOkorojusthoursaftershe’dmethim,andonceshe’dsethercapforhim,hedidn’thaveachance.
Chibale’sfather,forhispart,hadtakenabitlongertorealizehisfuturewasinextricablylinkedtoCharlotte’s,buthe’dgiveninattheend.ChibalehadbeenpursuingThérèsewiththissamepreceptinmind.Shewouldrealizetheyweremeantforeachotherintheend.Butsinceherdeclarationshewouldnevermarry,hehadbeguntodoubt.Shewasnotsimplygivinghimamerrychase.Shemeantit.AndasChibaledidwanttomarry,hewonderedifheshouldsimplylethergoherwaywhilehewenthisown.
Heputhisheadinhishandsandgroaned.Rowdenwouldtellhimnottogiveupsoeasily.ButChibale’sfatherwouldtellhimthatwhenawomansaysno,shemeansit.Still,shehadn’texactlytoldhimno.Shestillwantedhiminherbed.Shejustdidn’twanthimasherhusband.Mighthepersuadeheratsomepointthatshedidwanthimasherhusband?
Notifhedidn’tknowwhatherobjectionwas.DidshehatemarriageingeneralorwastheresomethingaboutChibaleinparticular?
Arapidtappingcameatthedoor,andsomeonecalledout.“Mr.Okoro?Mr.Okoro!Answerifyerhome.”
Chibalecheckedtheclockonhismantel,notedtheearlyhour,andcalled.“Whoisit?”
“Twig,sir.”
Chibalefrowned.DidheknowaTwig?
“FromMadameRenauld’s.”
Chibaletookthedistanceintwolargestridesandpulledthedooropen.“What’shappened?”hedemanded,staringdownattheboy.
“It’s‘ershop,sir.It’sbeenturnedtopsyturvy.Allransacked,like.”
“Ransacked?”Chibalegrabbedhishatandovercoatandpulledthemon,closingthedoorofhisflatandfollowingtheboy.“Wasanyonehurt?Weren’tyouthere?”
“No,sir.Memawashomelastnight.Sheworksatafactory,andIdon’tsee‘ermuch.Shecamebytofetchmebeforedinner.Istayedwithmemalastnight.”
Chibalewalkedbrisklythroughthecolddrizzlefallingoverthecity.“Doesshecometofetchyouoften?”
“Nah.OnlyonChristmasandEaster,like.”
“Isee.”
TwigrantokeeppacewithChibale’slongstrides.“Why’dyousayitlikethat?”
“BecauseyesterdaywasneitherChristmasnorEaster.”
Twigstoppedthenrantocatchupagain.“Yethinkmematurnedtheshopalltopsyturvy?”
“No,butIthinkitconvenientshewasgivenahalfdayyesterdayandtheonenightyou’reaway,theshopisvandalized.”
“Istilldon’t…”
ButChibalesawtheshopinthedistancenow.Thesignwashangingaskewandthefrontwindowwasbroken.Heallbutrantothedoorandpusheditopen.Severaloverturnedtablesimpededhisprogress.Theparrotwasnotonherperch,buthespottedThérèsestandinginthecenter,directingheremployeestothistaskorthat.
“Thérèse,”hesaid.Shelookedup,herfacewearingthemasksheworewhengreetingcustomers,butassoonasshesawhim,itdropped.Chibalejumpedoverthebrokendressformsandboltsofsilkstoreachherandtakeherinhisarms.Sheallowedhimtoembraceherbutremainedstiff.Herealizedshehadtoappearstronginfrontofheremployees.“Let’sgotothebackforafewmoments.”
Shelookedasthoughshemightobject,butChibaleputahandonherbackandguidedher.“Yourwomenhavethingswellinhand.Youcanstepawayforafewminutes.”
Thebackroom,wheretheseamstressesworked,lookedjustasbadasthefront.Worktablesweresmashed,clothhadbeenstrewneverywhere,andadressonafemaleformhadbeenslashed,thescissorsstillhangingfromwherethey’ddonethedamage.
Thérèseopenedthedoortoheroffice,andChibalewasrelievedtoseeithadnotbeendamaged.Theparrotwasthereaswell,preeningatherfeathers.Shelookedupathisentranceandsaid,“Merde!”
ChibaleraisedhisbrowsattheFrenchcurse,andThérèseletoutasigh.“Silence,Bleuette.”ShelookedatChibale.“Somedaysonedoesnotwanttohearthewordsrepeatedback,no?”
“Whathappened?”heasked.
“Yousee.”Shewavedahandexpansively,makingthelacesleevesofherdarkbluedressflutter.Shelookedaselegantandbeautifulasever.“Someonebrokedownthedooranddidthees.”
“Notthisdoor.”Heindicatedthedoortoheroffice,whichheexamined.Thewoodhadbeendented,asthoughkicked,butitwasathick,sturdydoorwithagoodlockandhadwithstoodthebattering.Still,ifthepeoplewhohaddonethiswantedtobreakitdown,theycouldhave.Butperhapstheywereintoomuchofahurry.
“Ihaveagoodlockonthees.Ikeepmydesignsinhere.”Shereachedforabottleofwineonthemarquetrycabinetbehindher,butherhandsshook,soChibaleroseandtookitfromher.
“Allowme.”
“Iteesearlytodrink,butIamshakingwithrage.”
Withabitoffear,too,hethought,thoughhedidn’tsayit.“Haveyousentforthemagistrate?”
“Oui.Hewillcomeathisownpace.IhavedealtwithhimbeforewhenIhavecaughtthieves.Heeesveryhelpfultothewhiteshopowners.Hedoesnothingforme.”
ChibalecoulddolittleaboutmagistrateswhotreatedBlackmerchantsdifferentlythanwhite.Hisownparentshadfacedsimilarproblems,buttheywereatleastcitizensofEngland,whereasThérèsedidnothaveeventhatadvantage.
“Doyouhaveanyideawhowoulddothis?”Hehandedhertheglassofwinehehadpoured.
“No,”shesaidflatly.“Ihavethoughtaboutit.MadameLeMondeandIarerivals,butshewouldnotdosomethinglikethees.”
ChibalemadeanotetocallonMadameLeMondeanyway.“Wherewereyourbullyboyslastnight?Yourprotection?”
Shesippedthewine.“Ipaythemtobeherewhenweareopen.To…whateestheword?Deter?”
“Yes.”
“Todeterthethieves.Theyarenothereatnight.Theboywhocallshimselftreeorbranch—”
“Twig.”
“Oui.Heisusuallyhere.Butyesterdayhismamancametofetchhim.Perhapsiteesgoodhewasnothere.”
Chibalesatonthecouch.“Perhapsso.ButIwonder.”
“Merde!”theparrotscreeched.
“Silence!”Thérèsesaidandputherheadinherhands.“Shewillhavetostayinthebackorcurseatthecustomers.Ifweeverhavecustomersagain.”
“Youwill.Youwillcleanthisupinnotime.Butyouwillhavetocancelyourappointmentsfortoday.”
Shenodded.“IhavealreadysentPhaedratocallontheladiespersonallywithourregrets.Whateesityouwonder?”sheasked.
“Ah,yes.HowoftendoestheboyTwig’smothercometofetchhim?”
“Notoften.Sheworksinafactoryandhaslodgingsthere.Sheofferedtopaymeforhisboardandfoodhere,butItoldherno.Tokeephermoney,andhecanwatchovertheshop.Shemakessolittle,howcanItakeitfromher?”
“Andyetshecameyesterday.Unexpectedly.”
Thérèsenarrowedhereyes.“Theeseestrue,butshewouldnotdothees.”Thérèserose,wenttothedoorandcalled,“Boy!Comehere!”
“Merde!”Bleuettecalled.ThistimeitwasChibalewhotoldhimtokeepquiet.Thebirdlookedathim.“Shallwehavedessert?”thebirdaskedinavoicethatsoundedverymuchlikeThérèse’s.
Thérèsegaspedandturnedtoglareatthebird.ShesputteredsomethingattheanimalinFrench,whichwastoorapidforChibaletounderstand.Apparently,thebirdhadbeenlisteningtheothernightatdinner—or,rather,afterdinner.
TwigtrudgedintotheworkroomandthenslouchedthroughthedoorofThérèse’soffice,whereshehadtakenaseatbehindherdeskagain.“Whydidyourmothercomeforyouyesterday?”sheasked.“Iteesnotusual.”
Twigshookhishead.“I’vebeenthinkingaboutthattoo,”hesaid.
Chibalewaited,buttheboysaidnothingmore.“And,”Chibaleprompted.“Whatisyourconclusion?”
Heshrugged.
Chibaletriedadifferentapproach.“Wedon’tblameyourmotherforthis”—hegesturedtotheworkroom—“butitismorethancoincidencethatshecametofetchyouthenighttheshopwasransacked.Wasshewithyouallnight?”
“Course.Wesleptatmeaunt’shouse.Igotelevencousinsthere,sowesleptonthefloor,butshewerebesidemeallnight.”
“Didshesaywhyshewasgivenahalfday?”Thérèseasked.
Twigshookhishead.“Shejustsaidtheforewomancametoherandtoldhershecouldtakeahalfday.”
ThérèselookedatChibale,andhelookedatTwig.“Youmaygohelpcleanupnow.”
“Shallwehavedessert?”Bleuetteasked.
Twigpaused.“There’sdessert?”heasked,eyeswidening.
“No,”Chibalesaid,pushingtheboyoutthedoor.“Notthatkindofdessert.”Heshutthedoor.LookingbackatThérèseheraisedhisbrows.“Areyousureyouhavenoenemies?Iamnotcertain,butIthinksomeonepaidthefactorymanagerortheforewomantogivethatboy’smotherthenightoffsotheshopwouldbeempty.Afewcoinswoulddothetrick.”
“Ithinkyouareright,butIcanthinkofnoonewhowoulddotheestome.”
“I’llhelpwithputtingthingstorights,”Chibalesaid.“AndI’llstaywithyoutonight.”
“Shallwehavedessert?”Bleuettesaid.
Chibaleglaredatthebird.“Tokeepyousafe.Notfor…dessert.”
“Perhapswecandoboth.”Sheglancedathimfromunderherlashes.“ButIrealizedafterIsentforyouthatIamimposing.YoudonotneedtogotoHungerford?”
“Ido,butIcangotomorrow.IsentRowdenearlysohecanrestbeforethefight.”
“Thencometometonight.Butyoumusthaveotherthingstodobesidessweepglassandrighttables.”
Chibaleshookhishead.“Ifyouneedmetosweepglassandrighttables,thenI’llbehereallday.”Fifteen
Thebrandyandsodahadnotonlygonestraighttoherheadbutalsotoherbladder.She’dbeensquirminginherseatandwasgladtobeabletousethenecessaryatthepostinghousewhereMr.Sterling’shorseswerechanged.
Mr.Paynehadwaitedforherbehindthepostinghouseandtakenherinsidefortea.Shetookafewsipsandthendecideditmightbebestnottodrinkanythingelse.“Iwouldlikesomeair,”shesaid.“Nowthattherainhasstopped.”
“Ithinkweoutranit,”Mr.Paynesaid.
“There’sayardintheback,”theproprietortoldher.“Thegroomsuseittowalkthehorsesandbrushthem,butitshouldbeemptyrightnowifyouwanttotakeaturn.”
“Thankyou.”
“I’llcomefetchyouinamoment,”Paynetoldher.
Shewentoutthebackandfoundtheyard.Itwasnotasmuddyasshehadsupposeditmightbeandthoughtherewereafewpuddles,shecouldeasilyavoidthem.Shewishedshehadn’tgivenintotemptationanddrankthebrandy.Shecouldseewhyitwasconsideredaviceasithadloosenedherlipsandshe’dsaidthingsshenowwishedshehadn’t.She’dtoldMr.Payneshelikeditwhenheheldher,andthenhe’dsaid—
Hercheeksfelthotwhensherecalledhiswords.
Hewantedher.
Shewasn’texactlysurewhatthatmeant,butsheratherwantedtofindout.Eventhoughsheknewthatwasprobablyagreatersinthanthespirits.Andwhatdidshecareanymore?Wasanythingaboutsinordamnationwhatshehadbelievedittobe?Herfatherhadnotworriedaboutthefiresofhellhesooftenpreachedaboutwhenhewaswithhismistress.
Mr.Paynedidnotwanttomarry.Shewasnotacleverwoman,butshecoulddeducehisreasons.He’dlovedhisfirstwife.He’dgivenupeverythingforher.Andshe’ddied.Ofcoursehedidnotwanttoriskhisheartagain.
Modestydidn’twanttoriskherhearteither,butshefeareditwastoolateforthat.EverytimeshethoughtofMr.Payneorwasinhispresence,herbreathcameshortandherheadspun.Hewasahandsomeman,butmorethanthat,hewasagoodman.Shehadn’tsaidittohiminthecoachbecausethankfullyshehadn’thadthatmuchbrandy,butshewantedhimtoo.Shedidnotknowhowtounwanthim.Thoughshefearedherownheartwouldbebrokenifshedidnotfindaway.
Shenearedthestableswhereshecouldhearthehorsesmovingaboutandsnortingsoftly.Shewasnotatallcomfortablewithhorses.She’dbeenbornandraisedinLondonandhadneverbeenveryneartoahorseunlessitwasracingtowardherasshecrossedabusystreet.Sheusuallytriedtostayoutoftheirway.Butnowshemovedclosertopeerintothestable,wonderingjusthowmanyhorsesmightbeinside.
Assoonasshemovedundertheeavesofthebuilding,ahandclosedabouthermouth.
Modestyfroze,forgettingforamomentwhatherfatherhadtaughtherabouthowtodefendherself.Onedidn’tventureintothevice-riddenareasofTownwithoutknowinghowtoprotectoneself.HerfatherhadbeenattackedmanytimesandModestyhadtofendoffafewamorousadvancesherself.Butthenshe’dbeenreadyforanattack.Nowshewascompletelyunprepared.
Themandraggedherbackward,intothestable,causingafewofthehorsestosnortinwhatsoundedlikefear.Itwasdark,andshecouldn’tseewhohewas,buthershockwasbeginningtofade.Shestruggledtoelbowhercaptorintheribsorkickhimbetweenthelegs,buthemanagedtoevadeherlimbs.Modestybegantopanicnow,herheartracingandherbreathingcomingquickandshallow.Sheknewpanickingwastheworstthingshecoulddo,butshecouldn’tseemtofreeherself.Shecouldn’tbreathewellwithhishandoverhermouth
“We’llseehowhelikeshavingsomethingofhistakenaway,”themansaid,yankingherdeeperintothedark.Modestyscrambledtoremainonherfeet,butshelostherbalanceandwasdraggedintoastall.Onceinside,shewastossedagainstoneofthewalls,barelyhavingtimetoliftherhandsinanefforttokeepherheadfromhittingthewoodatfullforce.Asitwas,shewassparedtheworstofit,butwhenshebouncedback,herlegscrapedagainstasharpcornerofsomethinginthestall—afeedingbox,perhaps—andsheheardthematerialofhernewdresstearandfeltthepainasherskinopenedup.
Dimly,sheheardvoicesintheyard,andshetriedtocallouttothem.Themanputhishandabouthermouthagain.“Youdeliveramessageforme,”themansaid,hisfaceclosetohers.Modestycouldn’tseehiminthedarkofthestable,andallshecouldsmellwashay,leather,andhorse.“TellPaynethisisjustthebeginning.”
Hishandhadn’tfitastightlyabouthermouththistime,andModestybithispalmashardasshecould.Hesworeandbackhandedherthenmovedaway.“Help!”Modestycalled,hervoicebreathy.“Help!”shetriedagain,thistimehervoicecarrying.
Sheheardfootstepsrunningandamanburstintothestable,makingthehorsesshiftandsnortagain.“MissBrown?Modesty!”
ItwasPayne’svoice.“I’mhere,”shesaid,risingtoherfeetandstumblingoutofthestall.Hecaughther,hisstrongarmswrappingprotectivelyabouther.“Hewentthatway.”Shepointedtowardthebackofthestable.
“Who?Areyouhurt?Whathappened?”
“Hegrabbedmeandpulledmeinhere,”shesaid.
Payneheldhershoulders.“Who?Oneofthegrooms?”
“Idon’tknow.”Shestumbled,herinjuredlegbucklingunderher,andhebentandsweptherintohisarms,carryingheroutintotheyard,outofthedarkness.Twomenrantowardthem.
“Sir,what’swrong?Istheladyinjured?”
“Gofetchmyoutriders,”heordered.
Oneofthemenranoffandtheotherstayedbytheirside.“Whathappened,sir?”
“Shewasdraggedintothestablebyaman.”
“Who?”
Modestyshookherhead.“Ididn’tseehim.”
Thenextquarterhourwasablur.Mr.Payneeventuallysetherdown,andshewasgiventealacedwithsomethingthatmadehersleepy.Awomancameinandtendedherleg,andshewasaskedtolookatallthemenfromthepostinghouse,butshejustshookherhead.Shehadn’tseenthemanwho’dgrabbedher,andthesemenlookedtooyoungandthintobethemanshe’dstruggledwith.Finally,themenwenttosearchthearea,andoneoftheoutridershelpedhertothecoach,wheretheseathadbeenpulledintothebeddiscussedearlier.
Shelaiddownonitwithoutprotestandclosedhereyes.Sometimelater,sheopenedthemagain,andblinkedupatthepaintingonthetopofthecoach.Theconveyancewasmoving,andshewasrockinggently.Shedidn’tmindasshe’dbeenwrappedunderthevelvetblanketandwaswarm.SheglancedtoherrightandsawMr.Payneontheseatjustafootorsoaway.Withherseatextended,therewasvirtuallynoroombetweenthem.
“Howareyoufeeling?”heasked.
Shesmiled.“Sleepy.”
“That’sthebrandytheyputinyourtea.Youhadquiteashock.Youwereshakingsobadly,wethoughtyouneededit.”
“Iwasshaking?”
“Yes.Youseembetternow.”
Shedidamentalevaluation.Shedidfeelbetternow.Herlegstillached,butherheaddidnothurt.Shereacheduptotouchwhereshehadhititagainstthewallofthestall.Itwasstilltenderbutnotpainful.Sheranherhanddownherhair,notingitwasloose.
“Itcamedownatsomepoint,andIdidn’tknowhowtofixit,”Paynesaid.“Oneofthemenfoundyourhatinthestable.”Helifteditfromtheseatcushionbesidehim.Itlookedmisshapenanddirty.
“MadameRenauldwouldbesodisappointed,”shesaid.
“I’llbuyyouanother.”
“Itwon’tmatchthedress,though,”shepointedout.
“Aboutthedress.”
“Oh,no!”Shesatup,foundherheadspun,andhadtowaitamomentfortheworldtorightitself.Shepulledtheblanketawayfromherskirtsandstareddownatthetearinherhem.“Atleastitisonaseam,”shesaid.“Ithinkitcanberepaired.
“We’llfindaseamstressinHungerford,”hesaid.“OrperhapsLordNicholashasaservanthandywithaneedle.”
Thoughsheknewitwildlyinappropriate,shelaidbackonthebed.SheshouldhaveaskedMr.Paynetoremakethebedintoaseatsoshecouldsit,butshewaswarmandtherockingmotionofthecoachwassoothing.Sheratherlikedlookingupatthepaintingonthetopofthecoach.
Afterafewminutes,hespokeagain.“Canyoutellmewhathappened?Icaughtbitsandpiecesearlier,butI’dlikethedetailsifyoucanrememberthemandtheywon’tupsetyou.”
Modestysmiledathim.Hetreatedherlikeoneoftheladiesfromtheupperclasses,ladieswhoweresodelicatetheycouldnotbeartoeventhinkofunpleasantness,muchlessbepresentedwithit.Butshehadgrownupsurroundedbypovertyandsuffering,andshewasmadeofstrongerstuff.
“IwastakingaturnintheyardandasIpassedthestables,Ilookedin.IsupposeIwascuriousaboutthehorses.That’swhensomeone—aman—puthishandaboutmymouthanddraggedmeinside.”Sheturnedherhead,hergazelevelwithMr.Payne’sseatandsawhishandswereclenchedtightlyonthesquabs.“Foramoment,”shesaid,watchinghisknuckleswhiten,“Iforgottofight.Myfathertaughtmehowtoprotectmyself,butIwassosurprised.Hedraggedmeintoastallandthrewmeagainstoneofthewalls.Iputoutmyarmsandcaughtmyself,butIhitmyheadandfellback.”
“Goon,”Mr.Paynesaid.“Didyouseetheman?Didhespeak?”
Shelookedupathim,meetinghisprettygreeneyes.“Hedid.Hesaidsomethinglike,‘Let’sseehowhelikeshavingsomethingtakenaway.’”
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Idon’tknow.Buthewasspeakingofyou.”
“Me?”Mr.Payneleanedforward.“Howdoyouknow?”
“Hesaid,‘TellPaynethisisjustthebeginning.’”
Hesatback,hisfaceamixtureofrageandconfusion.“Andyousawnothingoftheman?”hefinallyasked.
“No.Doyouthinkitwasoneofthemenfromthepostinghouse?”
“Thatwasmyfirstthought,buttheywereallaccountedfor.Noonewasinthestablewhenyouwerethere,andbythetimewethoughttosearchthestableandtheareabehindit,wedidn’tfindanyone.”
Sherememberedthatshehadhurtherleginthestableandsattotakealook.Butofcourse,assoonasshepulledtheblanketback,sherealizedshecouldn’tliftherskirtstolookatherlegwithhimrightthere.
“Howisyourleg?”heasked.
“Theinjurydoesnotfeelserious.”
“Let’stakealook.”Hekneltdownbesidethebedandreachedforhertornhem.Modestyknewsheshouldobjecttohisliftingherskirtsandpeeringatherlegs,butshesaidnothingwhenhedidjustthat.Herstockingwasruinedandhadbeentornawaysothatithungopentorevealawhiteclothboundabouthershin.“MayI?”Mr.Payneasked.
Modestynoddedandheuntiedtheclothandlookeddownatherleg.
“Nastyscrape,”hesaid.
“Yes.”Butshecouldseeitmighthavebeenmuchworse.Ithadn’tevenreallybled.Thetoplayerofskinhadbeenremoved,leavingaraw,redjaggedswath.Shebegantoshakeandputherarmsaroundherselftotryandstopit.Shedidn’tknowwhyshewasshaking.Seeingthemarkonherlegmadeherrememberthedarkofthestableandthehelplessnessofbeingdraggedinside.
Mr.Paynewrappedherlegagainthensatonthebedbesideherandpulledherintohisarms.
“I’mfine,”shesaid,buryingherheadinhischest.
“You’reshakingandyourskiniscold.I’lltellthemtostopatthenextpostinghouse.”
“No.”Shedidnotwanttostopatanymorepostinghouses.Butmorethanthat,shedidnotwantRowdenPaynetolethergo.“Justholdme.Ifeelbetterwhenyouholdme.”
Andsoheheldher,hishandrunninglazilyupanddownherbackashershakesslowlybecametremblesandthenfadedaway.Wordlessly,shemovedtoonesideofthebed,makingroomforhim.Hebegantoprotest,butshepulledhimdownbesideherandturnedtofacehim,snugglingintohisarms.
Heheldher,hisarmslightlywrappedabouther,butshewascloseenoughtoheartherapidbeatingofhisheartandthewayhisbreathhitched.Hewasasawareofherasshehim.Shelookedupathimthen,hisfacesoclosetohers,andhisgazemethers.Sheputahandononeofhischeeksandtiltedhisheaddownthenkissedhim.Hekissedherback,hislipstenderagainsthers.Shecouldfeelthetensioninhim,knewhewasrestraininghimself.Shemovedtokisshischeek,hisjaw,histemple.
“Yousaidearlier,”shesaid,brushingherlipsoverhisearandhearinghimsuckinabreath,“thatyouwantedme.Iwantyoutoo.”
Hemovedback,awayfromher,whichhaddefinitelynotbeenherintention.“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.”
“Ido,”shesaid.“I’vereadSongofSolomon.”
Hesmiled.“WhatIwantismorethanprettypoetry.”
“YouthinkIdon’tknowwhatyouwant?”sheasked,lookingdownathim.“Ispentyearsofmylifeoutsidetavernsandbrothels.Isawwhathappenedindarknooksandcrannies.Iwasn’tsupposedtolook,butIsawenough.”
“Andthat’swhatyouwant?”hesaid.
“Iwantyoutotouchme.Iwantyoutoshowmewhatdrovethosemenandwomenintothosedarknooks.WhyIheardthemmoaninginpleasure.”
“Youwantmetoshowyoupleasure?”
Hercheeksheated,butshewasnotabouttoshyawaynow.“Yes,”shesaid.“Andshowmehowtogiveittoyou.”
Hereversedtheirpositions,sohewasleaningoverher.Hehadn’tpinnedherdown,buthecoulddosoeasily.Hewasabigmanandstrong.Still,shewrappedherarmsaroundhisneckandtiltedherlipsupforakiss.
“WhathappenedtothewomanImetdressedallinblack?TheonewhoaskedifIcouldn’tfindanhonestwaytomakealivingbutwhoisnowonherwaytothebiggestmilloftheyear?”
“Shefoundouteverythingshebelievedwasalie.”
“Everything?”
“Maybenoteverything.”She’dknownfromthebeginninghewasagoodman.Shestillbelievedthat.“Willyoukissmeorno?IsupposethereareothermeninHungerfordIcouldask…”Shehadbeenteasing,ofcourse.Butperhapsshe’ddoneitwrongbecausehisfacechanged,darkeningintoafiercescowl.
“No,youwon’t,”hesaid.Shestartedtotellhimshewouldneverdosuchathing,andthat’swhenheloweredhislipstohers.Theheatofhistouch,hislips,hismouthwasundeniable.Itwasamolten,intoxicatingheatthat,shewouldbeashamedtoadmit,shegaveintoeasily.Hiskisswaslikethebrandy.Itmadeherlightheadedanddizzyandthirstyformore.
Therockingofthecoachbroughttheirbodiesintocontact,andsheclungtohimforstability,evenashismouthunmooredherandleftherreeling.Whenhefinallybrokethekiss,shefeltasthoughshewerefloating.Shewouldhaveheldontohisneckasananchor,buthegentlyremovedherarmsandloweredhisheadtokissherneck.Hischeekwasstubbled,andthescratchofthatstubblecontrastedwiththesoftnessofhislipsmadehermoansoftly.
Helookedupather.“That’sasoundIdidn’texpecttohearfromyou.Let’sseewhathappensifIkissyouhere.”Hislipsmovedtothehollowatthebaseofherthroat,andhedartedhistongueouttoteaseherskin.Modestyinhaledquickly,herhandsclutchingathisshoulders.“Doesthatgripmeanstoporcontinue?”heasked.Helookedupatherwiththosebeautifulgreeneyes.
“Continue,”shesaid.“Please.”
“Sopolite,”hesaid,trailinghislipsdowntotheedgeofherbodice.“ButI’veseenthewayyoulookwhensomethingillicitexcitesyou.”
Sheimaginedshelookedthatwaynowasthewayhistonguedippedintothetopofherbodicewasillicit.Herbodywastensewithanticipationandneed.
“HowdoIlook?”sheasked,hervoicebreathyashishandsmovedunderherbreasts.Hisgazeonhers,heslidhishandsuptocupher,histhumbsfindinghernipplesevenunderallthelayersofundergarments.
“Beautiful,”hesaid,hisgazestillonher.Shewantedhimtotouchherbareskin,wantedtofeelhiswarmfleshonhers,butthenecklinewastoohightobepulleddown.
“IwishIcouldfeelyourskinonmine,”shesaid.
Hefroze,hisbodygoingrigid.
“DidIsaythewrongthing?”
“No,butifyoukeepsayingthingslikethat,Iwillneedafewmomentsto—er,gathermystrength.”
“Idon’tunderstand.Whatstrength—”Shebrokeoffasonehandsliddownherbody,overherhip,andruchedupherskirts.Amomentlater,shefelthiswarmpalmonthekneeofheruninjuredleg.Shegasped.
“Isthiswhatyouwant?”
Oh,yes.Itwasexactlywhatshewanted.Foramoment,shecouldhearherfather’svoicepreachingaboutfornicationandthefiresofhell,butthenshethoughtoftheletters,andpushedthevoiceaway.Howcoulditbesinfultofeelthisgood?Howcoulditbesinfulwhentheywerebothwilling?
“Yes,”shemurmured.“You’resowarm.”
“Soareyou.”Hishandmovedupward.“Andsoft.”Hishandcoveredherthigh,gentlypartingherlegsthenslippingontothetenderskinofherinnerthigh.Hemovedhisfingershigher,causingherbreathingtoaccelerate.Buthepausedbeforereachingthejunctureofherthighsandlookeddownather.
“ShouldImovehigher?”
Shehesitated.
“Iwon’tbeangryifyousayno.”Hisvoicewaslowandsincere.“I’dratherstopnowthanhaveyouregretanything.I’dratherstopnowthanhaveyoufeelasthoughyouaredamnedforwhatwedonext.”
“NoGodwoulddamnapersonforthis,”shesaid.“Hecreatedpleasure.”
“Areyouconvincingyourself,Modesty,orme?”
“Idon’tneedanyconvincing,”shesaid.
“Whatdoyouneed?”
“You.”Shekissedhimagain,andhistonguedippedinsideherlips,causingajoltofheattocoursethroughher.Andthenhishandmovedhigher,brushingoverhercurlsandshemadeasoundofsurpriseandpleasure.
Histouchwaslightandgentleasitmovedoverher,exploringandteasing.Hekissedherashetouchedher,butwhenhefoundthatplacewhereshegaspedandmoanedathistouch,hereleasedhermouthandlookeddownather.
“Rowden,”shesaidonastrangledbreath.
“I’mhere.God,you’rebeautifulrightnow.”
Noonehadevertoldhershewasbeautifulbeforehim.She’dalwaysbeentaughtphysicalbeautydidn’tmatter.Buthemadeherfeelbeautiful,andshelovedthatabouthim.Shelovedwhathewasdoingwithhisfingerstoo,andevenasshethoughtit,pleasurelikenoneshehadeverfeltbeforebegantospiralthroughheruntilherentirebodywasfilledwithit,makinghercryout.
Hekissedheragain,coveringthesoundwithhismouth,andshewrappedherarmsabouthimandheldhimtightly.Sixteen
TrogdongreetedthematBattle’sPeak.Thoughhehadonlysetoutanhourorsobeforethem,heinformedRowdenhe’dbeenatthecountryhousemostoftheday.
“I’mgladyoumadegoodtime.”
RowdendidnotmentionthathisdelayhadbeenmostlyduetoModesty’sattack.Sheseemedtoberecoveredfromthatfright.Helikedtothinkhehadtakenhermindoffitforalittlewhile.
Ofcourse,he’dalsoliketothinkofhimselfasamanwithastrongwill,butthoughhehadpromisedhimselfhewouldnotbecomeinvolvedwithher,he’dcomplicatedthingsirrevocably.Nowthathe’dhadatasteofher,hewantedmore.Theproblemwasthat,regardlessofhowoftenshearguedthatshe’drenouncedherformermorals,shewasn’tanexperiencedwomanhecouldtaketobedforonenight.He’dalreadycompromisedherenoughtowarrantamarriageproposal.
EventhethoughtofmarriagemadeRowdenfeelasthoughtheworldhadbeguntospintoofast.Hedidnotwanttomarryagain.Andyet,hecontinuedtofindhimselfwantingModestyBrownandinapositiontotakeadvantageofthoselessthanpurethoughts.
“Thepubliccoachisfast,sir,”Trogdonsaid,drawingRowden’sattention.“Unfortunately,Iwasobligedtositontop.Myhandsarequitefrozenandincapacitated.”
“Really?Fromsittingatopthepubliccoach?”
“Iamobligedtoaskanotherservanttocarryinyourbags.”
Rowdenraisedhisbrows.Trogdonlookedperfectlydressedandhisblondcurlsneatandtidy,sounlesshehadsomeoneelsearrangehisclothing,hishandswereworkingjustfine.ButRowdenhadlearnedarguingwithTrogdonwaspointlessasanyattemptatlogicwasquiteuseless,andsohesummonedoneofLordNicholas’sfootmenandaskedhimtocarryhisvaliseaswellasMissBrown’sluggage.
Thehousekeeperhadintroducedherselfandofferedtoshowthemtotheirroomsafterthey’dhadrefreshment.LadyFlorentia,LordNicholas’ssister,waswaitingfortheminthedrawingroom.RowdenwonderedwhyLordNicholaswasnotthereaswell,butheknewbetterthantoaskthehousekeeperquestionsaboutthefamily.
HetookMissBrown’sarmandledherinside,whereshepausedinthefoyertogapeatthegrandmarblestaircase,thehighceilingandcrystalchandelier,andthehugepaintingsbyRenaissancemastersonthewalls.
Trogdonfollowedthefootmeninside,keepinganeyeonRowden’svalise,andcommentingthatthemanwascarryingitincorrectly.Rowdenhadn’tbeenawaretherewasacorrectwaytocarryavalise,butwhoknewwhatotherbodypartsofTrogdon’smightbeincapacitatedifRowdenmadethewrongremark.Thehousekeeperledthemupstairstothedrawingroom,andMissBrownleanedinclose.“IhaveneverbeenanywhereasgrandasthisexceptWestminsterAbbeyandSt.Paul’sCathedral.”
“LordNicholas’sbrotheristheMarquessofAverstow.ThefamilyisoneoftheoldestinEnglandandquitewealthy.”Shesmelledabitofbrandyandhim.Hisscentwasonher.Hercheekswerestillrosyandherlipsabitswollenfromhiskisses.Rowdenwouldhavelikedtocarryhertohisroomandmakehermoanagain,butthatwasthewaytomarriage,andhewasgrowingtiredofremindinghimselfnottocontinuealongthatpath.Hewouldturnbacknowandkeephishandstohimself.
“Isthemarquesshere?”sheasked.
“No.Idon’tbelievethisisthefamilyseat.Thefamilyisknownforbreedinghorses,andIbelievethisiswheretheystableandbreedthem.LordNicholasandhissisterresidehereandmanagethehorses.”
Thoughthehousekeeperhadbeenpretendingnottolisten,Rowdenhadnotloweredhisvoice,andnowtheservantadded,“Actually,LadyFlorentiadoesnotresidehere.Butshehasbeenstayinghereforthewintertokeepherbrothercompany.”Sheopenedthedoorstothedrawingroom,andRowdenpracticallyhadtodragModestyinside.Shestoodgaping.ThechamberhadbeendecoratedintheGreekstyle,withcolumnsinwhiteandwhiteplasterandmoldingsallaround.Thegroupingsofchairswerespreadthroughouttheroom,thefurnishingsupholsteredinpalecreamorgold.Aladywithdarkbrownhairandlargebrowneyesrosefromoneofthosegroupingsandsmiledatthem.Sheworeawhitegownwithgoldtrim.
Rowdencouldn’trememberevermeetingherfromthenamealone,butherecalledherface.HeandLordNicholashadknowneachotherbeforethewar,andtheirfamilieshadspenttimetogetherinthecountry.
“Mylady,”hesaidwithabow.“Thankyouforopeningyourhometous.”
Shewavedahand.“LordRowden.”Shecurtseyed.“Wehaveadozenemptyrooms.Iammorethanhappytofillthem.Sincemybrotherwon’tallowanyparties,IwassopleasedwhenMr.Sterling’sletterarrived.Andwhoisthis?”
“MightIpresentMissModestyBrown.”
LadyFlorentiacameforward.“MissBrown,apleasure.”Shelookedtowardthedoor.“WhereisLadyLorraineandherhusband?”
RowdendoubtedEwanwouldenjoybeingrelegatedtoLadyLorraine’shusband,butFlorentiaandLorrainewereofanageandhadprobablyknowneachotherforyears.“Sheisunwell,”hesaid.“TheyarestayinginLondon.MissBrownwouldhavestayedwithher,butshehaspressingbusinessinHungerford.”
“Isee.Comesitbythefireandwarmyourselves.Teawillbehereinamoment.Wasthejourneyawful?”
“ConsideringwewereofferedtheuseofMr.Sterling’scoach,itwasverypleasant,”hesaid.
“Iwanttoseethatcoachlater,”LadyFlorentiaremarked.“Ihavereadaboutit.Hesentanotethathewillarrivetomorrowinplentyoftimetowatchyour…howdidhesayit…intimetowatchyouhaveyourbrainsbeatin?Somethinglikethat.”
Rowdenrecognizedthejoke,butbeforehecouldissuearejoinder,Modestybrokein.“Hewon’thavehisbrainsbeatin.He’lldefeattheGermanthistime.HeonlylostlasttimebecauseIdistractedhim.”
“Didyou?”LadyFlorentiasaid,givingRowdenaknowinglook.“Iwanttohearallaboutthat.”
TheteaarrivedandRowdentooktheopportunitytoaskwhathereallywantedtoknow.“LordNicholaswon’tbejoiningus?”
LadyFlorentia’slipstightened.“Notrightnow.Heishere,buthekeepstohimselfforthemostpartorspendstimeinthestables.Hewasneverterriblysocial,butIdoworryhespendstoomuchtimealone.”
“Hashestartedridingagain?”Rowdenasked.
“No.Heworkswiththehorses,buthewon’tmountone.It’sbeentwoyearsnow,mylord.Ihavebeguntofearhewillneveragainride.”
RowdencaughtModesty’scuriousglancebutdidn’tenlightenher.“I’llspeakwithhim.”
“Youmaytry,butIbelievehe’savoidingyou.Whenyourmanservantarrived,Nicholaswalkedoffmutteringthathewantedtobeleftalone.”
“Well,that’squiteanormalreactiontoTrogdon,Ithink.”
Shelaughed.“Youalwayscouldmakeallofussmile,mylord.”
“Justamisternow,LadyFlorentia.”Herose.“Aworkingman.Ifyoudon’tmind,Iwilltakemyleave.Iwanttoseethevenueforthemill.”
MissBrownplacedherteacuponthetable.“ShallIcomewithyou?”
Heshookhishead.“It’snotthebestplaceforalady,anditwillbedarksoon.I’lltakeyouonyourerrandtomorrow.Inthemeantime,mylady,isthereaseamstresswhocanrepairMissBrown’sdress?Shehadabitoftroubleatapostinghouse.”
LadyFlorentiapretendedtojustnoticeMissBrown’stornhemandpromisedtohaveherownlady’smaidrepairit.Rowdenbowedandleftthem.HemadehiswaytothestablebutdidnotspotLordNicholas.Instead,heaskedagroomiftherewasahorsehecouldborrowtorideintoHungerfordandwasgivenamarewhowasfastbutgood-natured.Itwasonlyaboutthreemilestotheracecoursehousingtheexhibitionsite,andasthemarewasquick,Rowdenarrivedwhileitwasstilllight.
Hedismounted,tossedthereinstooneoftheladswhowasstandingaboutforthatpurpose,andenteredthetentthathadbeenerectedtohousethemills.Theseatinghadnotyetbeenputinplace,butthefightingsquareandtheropesstoodattheready.HespottedthefamousbareknuckleboxerTomCribbattheropesandstoodbesidehim.
Cribbnoddedathim.“Ihearyou’refightingtheGerman.”
“That’sright.”Rowdenhadn’trealizedCribbwasalsofighting.He’dcertainlybeabiggerdrawthanRowdenandtheGerman.“Whataboutyou?”
“Oneoftheumpires.”
Rowdenfeltsomeofthetensionseepout.Ifhewasstillthemaindraw,hisshareoftheprizemoneyandthestakeswouldbehigher.Cribblookedabout.“Where’sOkoro?Heisn’tyourmanageranylonger?”
“HehadbusinessinLondonandwillcometomorrow.”
Cribbnodded.“Ifyouwantmetoputyouthroughyourpacestomorrow,I’dbehappytooblige.”Hehelduphishands.“I’mnottryingtotakeOkoro’splace.”
“It’sagenerousoffer,”Rowdensaid.“I’lltakeyouuponit.”
Cribb’sgazenarrowedandhefrowned.RowdenglancedatthefarendofthetentandspottedNotley.“What’shedoinghere?”Cribbasked.“Hedoesn’thaveamillingcoveentered.”
“Poachingoffothers,”Rowdensaid.“HelosttheBlackPlagueandwillwanttoacquirenewtalent.”
Cribbnodded.“Imighthaveheardsomethingaboutthat.You’dbetterwatchyourback.Notley’snottheforgivingtype.”
“Icantakecareofmyself.”
Cribbslappedhimontheback.“Iwouldn’tputitpasthimtogoafterOkoroorsomeoneelseinyourcircle.”
Rowdenconsidered.NotleywouldbesorryifhewentafterChibale.ModestywassafeenoughatBattle’sPeak,butearlier…
“WhendidNotleyarrive?”RowdenaskedCribb.
Cribbshrugged.“ThisisthefirsttimeI’veseenhimtoday.”
AcrosstheroomNotleysmiledathimandliftedhishat.Rowdendidn’tsmileback.Notleywassurroundedbyhisusualcronies,andRowdencouldhardlymarchoverthereandaccusehimofattackingModesty,especiallywithoutanyproof.Andyet,thewayNotleysmiledmadethehaironthebackofRowden’sneckstandup.
***
THéRèSECOLLAPSEDONTOtheemeraldlongueinherparlorandgratefullyacceptedthecupofteaherservanthandedher.Chibaletookoneaswell,thoughhecontinuedtostand.“Havesometea,”Thérèsetoldhim.“Youhaveworkedhardtoday.”
“I’mthinkingofreturningtotheshop.Ifwhoeverdidthiscomesagaintonight,I’llbewaiting.”
Sheroseandputherarmsabouthiswaist.“Theywillnotreturn.Theydidwhattheycametodo.”
Chibaleturnedhishead.“Whydoyousaythat?”
Shegaveashrug.“Becausetheydidnottakeanything.Theydidnotbreakdownthedoortomyofficeandstealthemoney.Theydidnotstealthesilksandthedressesofftheforms.Theycouldselltheesandhavecoinintheirpockets.Theywantedtodestroy.”
“Sowearebacktoassumingtheyarevandals.”
“Whatelse?”
“Idon’tknow.Iftheycomebacktonight—”
Sheslidaroundtolookhimintheeyeandputherfingeronhislips.“Iftheyreturntonight,mybullyboyswilldealwiththem.Alleessafeandwell.”Shekissedhim.“Sitdownandhavesometea.”
“Shallwehavedessert?”theparrotasked,andThérèseblewoutabreath.Shewouldhavethrowncursesatthebird,butshewouldonlyhearthemrepeatedintheshopthenextday.Instead,shecoaxedBleuettetohershoulder,pettedher,andthenplacedherinhercage,coveringitforthenight.
“Thatbird,”shemuttered,sittingnexttoChibaleonthelongue,“annoysmetonoend.”
“Whydoyoukeepher?”
Shelookedathim,wonderinghowmuchtotellhim,wonderingwhyshedidnottellhimall.Hewasnotliketheothermenshehadknown.Hewaskindandsweet.Hehadinvitedhertoaballandtomeethisfamily.Butshedoubtedhewouldwanthertomeethisfamilyifheknewthetruthabouther.Perhapsnowwasthetimetofindout,beforeherfeelingsforhimbecameanystronger.Shecouldalreadytellhisfeelingsforherwereserious.Thérèsehadsuspectedthisbefore,butafterallhehaddonetoday,therewaslittlequestion.
ShelookedatBleuette’scageandthenbackatChibale.“Ikeepherbecausesheeeslikeme.”
Chibaleraisedabrow.“Youarebothverybeautiful,butIthinktheresemblanceendsthere.”
“Thateesbecauseyoudonotknowherstory.ItookherfromahouseinParis.Themasterofthehouse,arichnobleman,hadorderedseveraldressesforhisnewestparamour.Ibroughtthedressesandconductedthefittingmyself.Inthosedays,IhadnoreputationandtookwhatworkIcouldget—actresses,courtesans.Ispecializedinrisquégowns,andtheesnoblemanwantedthatforhisnewparamour.AndsoIcametotheflat,andIdidthefitting.Thegirlwasverysillyandthenoblemanveryvain.Icouldtellhewasacollectorofbeautifulthings,buttheywerejustthingstohim,nottreasures.Apricelesspaintingtossedinacorner.Anexpensivevaseusedforrubbish.Abeautifulbird,neglectedanddying.”
ChibaleglancedatBleuette’scage.
“Yes.Itwasshe.Icouldnotforgether.Ifelt…howdoyousay…solidaritywithher?Andsowhenitcametimeforpayment,Iaskedforthebird.”
“Whatdidthenoblemansay?”
“Heargued,theidiot.Thedresseswereworthmorethanthebird,whowasinpoorcondition,buthearguedanyway.Finally,hismistressintervenedandgavemethebird.Itookherhomeandnursedherbacktohealth.Andyouseehowsherepaysme?”
“Surelyshedoesn’tknowwhatsheissaying.”
“No,andsheeesveryunusual.Ladiescomeintotheshoptoseeherandthenstaytobuy.Sheeesanasset.”Sheleanedclosertohim.“ButtodayiteesyouwhoIneeded.Youwhoweretheasset.”Shewouldhavekissedhim,butheputahandonhershoulder.
“Yousaidshewaslikeyou.Howso?”
Thérèsehadknownhewouldnotletthatpointgo.Hadn’tshewantedhimtoask?Shesatback.“BecauseonceItoowasinacage—notaliteralcage—butacagenonetheless.AndIwasneglectedandreadytodie.”
Chibalesurgedtohisfeet.“Whodidthistoyou?Iwillkillhim.”
Shewavedahand.“Itwaslongagoandfaraway.Iwasadifferentpersonthen.Literally,adifferentperson.ThérèseRenauldwasnotmyname.Iwasgiventotheesmanveryyoung.Notamarriage,no.Mymotherdidthebestshecouldforme.Thelifeshegavemewasnodifferentfromhers.”
Chibaletookherhand,hisfaceblankandunreadable.
“Shesoldme,”shesaidbluntly.“Shewasacourtesan,andshesoldmyvirginitytothehighestbidder,whomademehismistress.Theesmanwasolderandwealthy.HetookmetoanothercityinFrance.Hetookmeawayfrommyfamilyandfriends.Iknewnooneandhadnofriends.Heputmeinahouseandlockedthedoor.Iwasnotallowedtoleave.Iwastobealwaysavailabletohim,ifyouunderstand.”Chibale’shandonherstightened,toshowhedidunderstand.“Sometimeshewouldbegoneforaday.Sometimesaweek.Oncehewasgoneforafortnight,andIhadnofood.Ipoundedonthedoor,calledoutforhelp,butnoonecame.IthoughtIwoulddie.AndwhileIlaydying,weakandfadedasBleuetteinherrichman’scage,Imadeaplantoescape.ThatwasifIshouldsurvive.
“Hereturned,andIwaiteduntilIhadmystrengthback,andthenwhenhewasasleep,Ihithimovertheheadwithalampandran.”
“ThankGod.”Hetriedtopullherin,butsheshookherhead.Shewantedtotellhimallofitnow.
“IfGodwastrulytobethanked,hewouldhavedied.Buthelived,andhecameafterme.ThatwaswhyIhid,whyIsewedgownsforactressesandprostitutes,whyIfledtoEngland.AsdifficultasiteestofindsomeoneinPariswhodoesnotwanttobefound,Iknewasmydressesbecamemorepopularandmoresoughtafter,hewouldfindme.Iprayedafteralltheseyears,hehadgivenuponme,butIcouldneverbecertain.Icouldneverstoplookingovermyshoulder.AndsoIcamehere.”
“Doyouthinkheisresponsibleforthedamagedonetoyourshop?”
“Idonotknow,”shesaid.“Iteespossible.Butifhehasfoundme,thenIamindangerofmorethandamagetomyshop.”
Chibalepulledhertohimnow,andsheallowedit.Shehadnevertoldanyoneaboutherpast,andshewastremblingfromthememoriesthatassaultedher.ButChibale’sarmswerestrong,andhisbodywassolid.Heheldherclosely,andwhensheputherheadonhischest,shecouldhearhisheartbeatingslowlyandsteadily.Thiswasamanshecouldrelyon,amanshecouldtrust.Shehadsofewpeopleinherlifelikethat,andtofindamanwhoshecouldbelievein,afteralltheseyearswhenshethoughtsuchathingimpossible,wasakintoamiracle.
Thethoughtstruckherasthesortofthingachildwouldthink.Andthensherealizeditwasmorethethingawomaninlovemightthink.
ShelookedupatChibale,andhelookeddownather,andshesawthesameloveshefeltreflectedbackather.Asthoughtopunctuateit,hesaid,“Iloveyou,Thérèse.”
Shestaredathim,theimageofhiminshirtsleeveswithabroomsweepingupbrokenglassforemostinhermind.“Youreallydo,don’tyou?”
Hekissedherforehead.“Whendidyourealizeit?”
“ThatnightyousenttheBlackDeathaway.”
“IdidthatforPhaedra,”heteased.
“Andforme,”shesaid.Sheroseandtookhishand.“Shallwehavedessert?”shewhispered.
“Yes.”Butinsteadoffollowingherintothebedchamber,hereacheddownandsweptherupintohisarms.
“MonDieu!”shecried.“Whateesthis?”
“Iwillprotectyou,Thérèse.”Hecarriedhertothebedchamber.“Iwillkeepyousafe.Tonight,tomorrow,foraslongasyouwantme.”
Thérèsewrappedherarmsaroundhimandwhenheloweredhertothebed,sheclosedhereyesandsankintothetenderpressofhislips,thestrokeofhishands,theweightofhisbodyontopofhers.ShehadwatchedChibaleallafternoon,andhewasamanwhotookhisworkseriously.Hepaidattentiontodetail.Hedidathoroughjob.
Heundressedherslowly,tookhistimearousingher,watchinguntilshewasbreathingquicklyandclutchinghimdesperately.Shewasawomanofthirtyand…well,oneneednotdelveintospecifics.Shewasanexperiencedwoman,butwithChibale,shefeltlikethiswasallnewagain.Shefeltasthoughshe’dneverwantedamansomuch.
Andwhenhefinally,finally,slidinsideher,joiningtheirbodiesaswellastheirhandsandtheirlips,shewashappierthanshe’deverbeen.Sheopenedhereyesandlookedupathim,tellinghimsilentlythatshelovedhimtoo.
***
“IAMNOTLEAVINGYOU,”Chibalesaid,settinghisforkontheplateandgivingThérèseherownformidablestarerightbackather.“Rowdencanhandlehimself.”
Thérèse,lookinglovelywithherhairinwavesoverhershoulderandthemorningsunlightfilteringthroughthecurtainbehindher,shookherhead.
“SocanI,monchéri.”Sheliftedapastryandtookabite,notadaintybitebutarealbite.Helikedthatabouther.Shewasnotashamedofherappetites.
“Afterwhathappenedthenightbeforelast,I’dliketostaycloseby.”
Sheshookherhead.“Yourfighterneedsyou,andIwon’thaveyoumeestheesexhibition.Iwillaskmymaidtostay,andthebullyboyswillwatchtheshop.Don’tshakeyourhead.Youwillregretitifyoudonotgo.”
“Therewillbeanotherfight.”
“Perhaps.”Sheshrugged.“Butnotanotherliketheesone.Youwillgo,andwhenyoureturn,itwillbetimefortheball.Ihavealmostfinishedthedress.Ithinkyouwilllikeit.”Shewinked.
Chibaleraisedabrow.“CanIseeit?”
“Oh,no!IwanttoenjoythesurpriseonyourfacewhenIshowittoyouthatnight.SoyouseethatIwillbefine.GotoHungerfordandwinthefight.”
“Idon’tactuallyfight,”hesaid,foldinghisnapkinandsettingitaside.Heratherlikedwatchinghereat.
“Thatdoesnotmeanthevictoryeesnotalsoyours.”
Chibaledidn’tlikeit.Hedidn’tlikeleavingheraloneafterthevandalismathershop,didn’tlikebeingsofarawayifsheneededhim.Atonetimehewouldhavesaidthatthisfightwasthemostimportantthinginhislife.Itwasstillimportant,butnotnearlyasimportantasThérèse.
“Winthefight,”theparrotsaid.
“Thereyouare,”Thérèsesaid,gesturingwithherfork.“EvenBleuetteagrees.”
“HowcanIarguewithBleuette?”
“Prettybird,”Bleuetteadded.“Finelace!”
“That’senough,”Thérèsesaid.Sherose.“Youshouldgonow,oryouwillnotarriveuntillate.”
“Ihadn’tactuallymadeupmymindtoleaveyet,”hesaid.
“Ihave.Cometomeassoonasyoureturn,oui?”Shereachedforthedoorhandle,buthepulledherintohisarmsandkissedher.Whenhefinallyendedthekiss,shelookedathimwithadreamylook.“Assoonasyoureturn,”shesaid.Shefumbledwiththedoorbutfinallymanagedtoopenit.Hesawhimselfoutandwentdirectlytothemodisteshop.
ChibaleknewThérèsewouldberightbehindhimanddidnotwanthertochastisehimfornotleavingyet.Buthewantedtoseehowthenighthadgone.Herappedonthefrontdoor,scowlingattheboardscoveringthebrokenwindow.Oneofthebullyboysopeneditandnoddedathim.“Washopingye’dcomeby.Havesomethingforye.”
Chibalerefrainedfromaskingwhatthatmightbeandfollowedthemanintothebackroom.Therehefoundanothermanwithdarkskin,thoughlighterthanhisown,whowastiedupandgagged.Chibalegaveoneofthemen—thebullyboys—alook.
“Foundhimskulkingaboutlastnight,wedid.”
“Ispotted‘im,”Twigsaid,steppingintotheroom,chestpuffedoutandhandsonhips.“Isaw‘isshadowpassthedoor,Idid.”
“Goodjob,”Chibalesaid,touslingtheboy’shair.Hecroucheddownandloweredthegag.“Whosentyou?”heasked.
“Ididn’tdonothing!”themansaid,thewordscomingoutinarush.“Iwerejustwalkingby,mindingmyownbusiness.”
“No.‘Ewasskulking,‘ewas,”thebullyboysaid.
Chibalelookedbackattheboundman.“Whatbusinesstakesyounearadressshopinthemiddleofthenight?”
ThemanlookedfromthebullyboytoChibale,obviouslyfrantictothinkofalie.“I…I…memalivesnearby.”
Chibaleleanedbackonhisheels.“Really?Where?I’lltakeyoutoher.”HestoodthemanupandgesturedforTwigtoopenthebackdoor.Twiggavehimapainedexpression.
“Yedon’tbelieve‘im,doye?”
“Openthedoor,”Chibalesaid.Theladobeyed,andChibaleusheredthemanoutside.Thenheleanedclose.“Nowthattherearen’tanywitnesses,you’dbettertellmethetruth.Becauseifyoudon’t,evenyourmawon’trecognizeyourface.”
“Ye’dbetternottouchme.”
“Thenstarttalking.”
Themanstaredathim,lipscompressed.
Chibalereleasedhimandsteppedback.“Ifthat’showyouwantit.”Heraisedanarm.
“Fine!ItwereNotley.”
Chibale’sarmdroppedasthoughithadbeenweigheddownwithlead.Hehadn’texpectedthemantosayNotley.Hehadn’texpectedthedamagedonetotheshopwouldhaveanythingtodowithhim.Hegesturedtotheshop.“Sothisisbecauseofme?”
“Idon’tknowwhy.I’mnotpaidtoaskquestions.”
“Whatdidhepayyoutodo?”
ThemanglancedatChibale’sfist,nowballed.Slowly,Chibaleopenedit.
“Hepaidmetobreakthewindowandtossit.Overturntablesandshredthefabricsandthelike.”
“Justyou?”
Themancompressedhislipsagain,obviouslyunwillingtogivethenameofthemenwho’ddonethiswithhim.
“I’lltryadifferentquestion.WasNotleyhere?”
Themanshookhishead.“Hehadsomefighttogoto.Saidhehadbusinessthere.”
Chibalehissedinabreath.Notleyhadnobusinessatthefightashisonlyfighterwasonashiprightnow.Andwhowasresponsibleforthat?ChibaleandRowden.Rowden,whowasinHungerfordrightnow.
“Why’dyoucomebacklastnight?”
“Idon’tknow.GuessIwantedtoseewhatI’ddone.Shouldhavestayedaway.”
Chibalegrabbedhiscoatandpushedhimagainstawall.“I’llgiveyousomeadvice,friend.WhenIuntiethosebinds,runhomeanddon’tevercomenearhereagain.NexttimeIseeyouanywherenearby,I’lldotoyouwhatyoudidtothosedressesinside.”Hedrewoutaknifehecarriedandmadeaslashingmotionandtheman’seyeswidened.Finally,henoddedhishead.Chibalespunhimaroundandusedtheknifetocuttheropes.
“Getoutofhere.”
Themanran.
Chibaletookabreathandwentbackintotheshop.“SaynothingofthistoMadameRenauld.ButIwantoneofyou”—hepointedtothebullyboys—“hereatalltimes.Ifanythinghappenstoher—”
“Itwon’t,”oneofthemsaid.“Wecareabouthertoo.”
“Good.I’llbebackinacoupleofdays.”
“Whereareyougoing?”Twigasked.
“Tosettlesomescores.”Seventeen
“Oh,good,I’vecaughtyou,”ModestysaidasRowdenstrolledintothebreakfastroomthenextmorning.Hisbrowsrosewhenhesawher,andshedefinitelynoticedthewayhiseyeswarmed.
“Youareupearly.”
“Imissedyoulastnight.Iwantedtowaitup,butthedaytiredmemorethanIthought.”
“Iwasoutlate.”Hegesturedtothesideboard.“Wouldyoulikesomethingwithyourtea?”
Sheshookherhead.“I’mnothungry.”
HepiledfoodonhisplateashewouldneedenergyforCribb’scoachingandthenforthefightlaterthisevening.“I’msorryIleftyouwithLadyFlorentia.”
“Idon’tmindatall.Shewasverykind,andlook.”Shestoodandshowedhimherdress.
“Itlooksasthoughitwasnevertorn,”hesaid.
“Hermaidwaswonderful.”
Heglancedatherhairasshesatagain,andshefelthercheekswarm.
“Didshedoyourhair?”
Modestynodded.
“Ilikeit.”
Modestydidtoo.Ithadbeenpulledbackinaloosebunwithagenerousportionfallingdownherbackinauburncurls.Themaidhadcommentedhowlovelythecolorwas,andModestyhadalmostbelievedher.Forsolongshehadthoughtofherhairasacurse.Butperhapsitwaspretty.Rowdenseemedtothinkso
Thediningroomdoorwasopen,andshespottedRowden’smanservantpassby,peerin,thenkeepwalking.Rowdensawhimtoobutignoredhim.“DidLordNicholaseverjoinyou?”heasked.
“No.LadyFlorentiasaidhedoesn’tcareforcompany.”
Outsidethedoors,themanservantpassedagain.
“Onlythecompanyofhorses.ButIthoughthehadbettermanners.”Heslammedhisforkdown,andModestyjumped.“Stoppacinginfrontofthedoor,Trogdon,andcomein.”
Themanservantslidinsideandbowed.“Sosorrytobotheryou,sir.”
“Ithoughtyou’dbegonebynow,”Rowdensaid.
“Yes,aboutthat.WhatwasItodoagain,sir?Myhands,youknow—”
“Shutupaboutyourhands.Iaskedyoutogointotownandbuyoranges,Trogdon.Forthefightthisevening.”
“Ah.”Trogdonnoddedconfidentlythenshookhishead.
“Whyareyoushakingyourhead?”Rowdenasked.
“It’sthemiddleofwinter,sir.Therearen’tanyoranges.”
Rowdensighedandmuttered,“ThisiswhyIneedChibale.”
Modestydecidedtohelp.“Mr.Trogdon,isit?”
“Yes,miss.”Hebowedtoher.“Goodmorningtoyou.”
“Goodmorning.Youmakeagoodpointaboutitbeingwinter.”
Hesmiledather.“Citrusfruitsdon’tgrowinthewinter.Ilearnedthatinschool.”HegaveRowdenasidewaysglanceasthoughtoimplyhisemployerhadnotlearnedmuchinschool.
“Ilearnedthataswell,butthereisanexhibitionthisevening,andthereareperhapsadozen”—shelookedatRowden—“whatdoyoucallthem?Millingcoves?”
“Yes.”Hewaswatchingherwithacuriousexpression.
“Thereareadozenorsomillingcovesintown.Theywillallwantorangesforthefighttonight,yes?”
Trogdontappedhischinwithhishand,whichhehadwrappedwithlinenstrips.“Theywill,miss.”
“Isitnotreasonablethatsomeenterprisingshopkeeperhasthoughtofthisandpurchasedorangestosellintown?”
Trogdon’seyeslitup.“IwishIhadthoughtofthat,miss.I’dmakeabundle.”
“Nexttime,Trogdon,”Rowdensaid.“RightnowI’dlikeyoutogobuyseveraloranges.”
“Verywell,sir.I’lldomybest.”Hebowedagainanddeparted.
“I’dliketostranglehimwiththoseso-calledbandages,”Rowdensaid.“There’snothingwrongwithhishands.Icaughthimtyinghisneckcloththismorning.”
Modestysippedhertea.“Ithinkyouwillgetfurtherwithyourservantifyouplayalongandgivehimsympathy.”Rowdenstaredatherasthoughshehadlosthermind.Shecouldn’thelpbutsmileathisexpression.“Hearmeout.Ihaveknownpeoplelikehimbefore,oftenolderwidowswhocomplainincessantlyanddriveeveryoneaway.Buttheyjustwantattention.Theywantsomeonetoacknowledgethemandhearthem.Oftentheirliveshavebeendifficult,andtheywantsympathy.IimagineabitofsympathywillgoalongwaywithTrogdonaswell.”
Rowdenstaredather.“Youwantmetocoddlemymanservant?”
“Itcouldn’thurt.Givehimsomesalveforhishandsandaskhowtheyare.Iimaginetheywillhealmuchfasterifheisgivenattentionforthem.”
“There’snothingwrongwiththem,”Rowdenmuttered.
ModestyputherhandontopofRowden’sandsqueezed.Helookedupather,andshethoughthemightsaysomethingaboutwhathadhappenedinthecoachyesterday.Shethoughthemightgivesomeindicationastowhetherithadmeantanythingtohim.Buthepulledhishandbackandliftedhisforkagain.
Modestytriednottofeelhurt.He’dtoldherhewantedheragainsthisbetterjudgement.Perhapshewasregrettingwhatthey’ddoneinthecoachalready.Shewonderedifsheshouldtellhimshewouldn’tdemandhemarryher.Certainly,hermissingfatherwouldn’tdemanditeither.Butitmightbebettertoleavethingsalone.
“Iknowyoumusthavemuchtodoinordertoprepareforthisevening,”shesaid.“Iwaswonderingifyoucouldhavethecoachtakemeto…”Shewasn’tcertainwhattocallthewomanintheletters.“Tothewomanmyfatherwroteto.”
“I’lltakeyou,”Rowdensaid.
“Youwill?”Modestysetherteacupdown.“ButIthoughtyouwouldbebusy.Idon’twanttobeadistraction.
“Ican’tbelieveIeverthoughtofyouasadistraction.Iwanttotakeyou.”Hestraightened.“ButI’llwaitinthecoach.I’msureyou’llwantprivacy.”
Modestyhadn’tthoughtthatfarahead.AllofherplanninghadtodowithfindingawaytoreachHungerford,notwhatshewouldsayonceshefacedherfather’smistress.
“IsawTomCribbattheexhibitionlastnight,”Rowdensaid.
“Thefamouspugilist?”
“You’veheardofhim?”
“Weusedtopreachrepentancetothecrowdswhocametoseehim.”
“SinceChibaleisn’thereyet,heofferedtoputmethroughmypacesthismorning.Comewithme,andwhenwe’rethroughI’lltakeyouto—I’lltakeyouwhereyouneedtogo.”
Modestycockedherhead.“Youwantmetocometotheexhibitionwithyou?”Whywassheaskinghim?Hedidn’twanthertocome.Itwassimplymoreconvenientforhertobetheresotheycouldleaveafterwardforherbusiness.“Nevermind,”shesaid.“Youalreadyexplainedthatit’seasiertoleavefromthere.”
“That’strue,”hesaid,cuttinghisfood.“ButIdowantyouthere.”Helookedup.“Icouldusethesupport.Thebookmakersputodds-ontheGerman.”
Modestystoodinsurpriseandwhatfeltlikeoutrage.“That’sridiculous.Ofcourse,youwillbeathim.”
Rowdenraisedhisbrowsather.“Iwill?”
“Howcantheynotseethat?”
Hesatback.“ModestyBrown,youneverstopsurprisingme.”Shethoughthemightreachforherthen,dragherontohislap,andkissher…orsomethingmore.Butthedooropened,andafootmanentered.AndsoModestysatbackinherseatandRowdencontinuedtoeat,andshewishedtheycouldbealoneagain
***
THEEXHIBITIONWASunlikeanythingModestyhadeverseen.Inwhatlookedtobealargeracecourse,ahugetenthadbeenerected.Subsequently,smallertentsandboothshadsprunguparounditwithvendorssellingeverythingfromfood—including,shenoted,oranges—toartisticrepresentationsofthewell-knownpugilistslikeGentlemanJackson,Mendoza,andTomCribb.
“Noneofyou?”shesaidastheypassedastallonthewaytothemaintent.
Rowdengaveheraquellinglook.“ThankGod.”
“Youdon’twantthefame?”
“I’vealreadyturnedmyfather’shairwhite.Idon’twanttomakehimapoplectic.”
Thedaywassunnybutstillcold.Shewasdressedwarmly,andstillshefeltashiverrunupherback.Rowdenhadtuckedherarmintohis,drawingherclosetohim,keepinghersafe.Heledherintotheexhibitiontent,whichhadseveralbraziersinthevariouscorners,andshewashappyforthewarmth.Amaninnothingbutbreechesdancedaboutthearenawhileanothermancalleddirectionstohim.Modestyknewsheshouldn’tbelookingatamanwhowashalfundressedbutsheglancedathimunderherlashes.Hewasthickandbroad,butshe’dseenRowdenwithouthisshirt,andtherewaslittletocomparetohim.
Rowdenledhertoaseatandsatbesideher,hisgazeonthearena.
“Doyouknowhim?”sheasked.
“Iknowhisname.”Heglancedatherquickly.“TomPease.Foughthimonce.Beathim.”Henoddedatthepugilist.“WecallhimPrettyPeasebecausehehasaprettyface.”
Modestyhadn’tlookedattheman’sface,butshedidsonow.ItwasnotashandsomeasRowden’s,butshewasprobablybiased.
“He’sfondofthatprettyfaceandprotectsit.Notnowthathe’sthrowingpracticejabsanddarts,butwhenhehasanopponent,heduckshisheadorraisesanarmtocoverit.Thenyoucanhithimintheribsorthebreadbasket.”
“Ineverrealizedtherewassomuchstrategyinpugilism.”
“Youwerebusytellingallofusweweregoingtohell.”
Shenodded.“Istilldon’tlikeit.It’sdangerous,unnecessaryviolence.Menarehurtandpeoplepaytoseeit.”
“It’sabarbaricworld,”Rowdenagreed.“Butafterthewar,I’mnotreallycapableofbeingshockedbyviolenceorinhumanity.Nothinganyonedoestoanyoneelsesurprisesmeanymore.”
Shetookhishand.“I’veheardothersoldierssaythesamething.I’msorryyouweresenttowar.Thatthereissuchathingaswar.”
Hesqueezedherhand.“SoamI.”
“Youspokeofyourfatherearlier.”Hisgriptightenedonherhand.“LadyLorrainesaideveryonethoughtyourfatherwouldforgiveyouwhenyoucamehomeawarhero.Hedidn’t,Itakeit.”
“No,hedidn’t.Killingsomeoftheenemyandsavingafewofourownmenpalesincomparisontothesinofmarryingwithouthispermission.MarryingaCatholic,nonetheless.Idon’tsupposeLadyLorrainementionedmylatewifewasaPapist.”
Hewashurtingherhandwithhisgrip,butModestydidn’tthinkherealizedit.“Shedid,actually.I’vealwaysthoughttheProtestantsandtheCatholicshadmoreincommonthantheydiddifferences.”
Hisgriploosenedandhegaveheradubiouslook.“Don’tletyourfatherhearyousaythat.”
Modestylookeddown.
“I’msorry,”hesaid.“Ididn’tthinkbeforeIspoke.”
Shesmiledathim.“Iunderstandthesentiment.Mostpeopleareintolerant.”
Hesmiledbackather.Nowwasherchancetoaskhim.Shewouldn’thaveanotheropportunitysoperfect,andshe’dbeenwantingtoknow.Summoningallhercourage,sheasked,“Isthatwhyyouwishtonevermarryagain?Becauseyourfirstmarriagecausedthebreakwithyourfather?”
Theshoutingfromthearenaquietedanditseemedsilencehungintheair.Rowdenreleasedherhand,andthoughsheworegloves,herhandfeltcold.“That’snotwhy,”hesaid,standing.“It’sbecausewhenshedied,sheandmyunbornchild,shetookhalfofmyhearttothegravewithher.I’dratherkeeptheotherhalf,”hesaid.“ThoughIcan’timagineanyonewouldwantsuchapaltrythingatanyrate.”
Hewalkedaway,raisingahandtoamansherecognizedfromthedrawingsasTomCribb.Modestywatchedashestrippedoffhiscoat,waistcoat,andshirt.Shesawwhatnooneelsesaw,though.Hestillworehisarmor.Hehadn’tspokenthosewordstohertohurther,butthey’dstungnonetheless.Sheunderstoodhimperfectly.Hehadnothinglefttoofferher.He’dlovedandlostthatloveandwouldn’triskhisinjuredheartagain.
ButasmuchasModestywantedtoacceptthat,towalkaway—figuratively,ifnotliterally—itwasbecomingmoredifficulteveryday.Becauseherheart,whichhadneverthoughtitwouldfeellove,wasfallingmoreandmoreinlovewithRowdenPayne.Shedeservedmorethanwhathecouldgiveher,andyetshewantedhimallthesame.
Watchinghimstepintotheringinnothingbutbreechesmadeherfaceheat.Hischestwasmuscled,hisarmspowerful,hisbackbroad.He’dputhishandsonherinthecoach,andshewantedtotakethosesameliberties.Shewantedtotouchhim,kisshim,holdhim.Andallofhiswarningsandcautionshadn’tlessenedthatdesireevenoneounce.
***
THECOACHWASSTUCK.Chibaleandtheotherpassengersstoodonthesideoftheroadasthecoachmanandtheoutridertriedtodigoneofthewheelsoutofthemud.Chibalehadhissuspicionsthecoachmanhadbeendrinking.Hisfacewasquitered—thoughthatmighthavebeenfromthewind—andhe’dalsodrivenstraightintoamuddysectionofroadwhenadrierpathwasaneasyoption.Someoftheothermenmovedtohelppushthecoach,andtogethertheyfreedthewheelfromthemire.Unfortunately,thecoachstilldidn’tsitright,andacursorylookunderneathrevealedabrokenaxle.
Chibaleputhisheadinhishands.Atthisrate,hewouldnevermakeittoHungerford.Hewantedtobethereforthemill,butthatwasn’thismainconcernanylonger.HismainconcernwasprotectingRowdenandMissBrown.IfNotleywasinHungerford,andChibalehadnodoubthewas,hewouldgoafterbothofthem.MissBrownwouldbetheeasiertargetandbyhurtingherNotleycould—asthesayingwent—killtwobirdswithonestone.HurtingherwouldhurtRowden.Andthatwasthepoint.Notleywantedtohurtthepeopleheblamedforhisownsituation.
ChibalehadtomakeittoHungerfordandwarnRowden.Andyetherehewas,standingonthesideoftheroad,inthefreezingcold,watchingthecoachmanandoutriderdiscussthesituation.Ifthedistancehadn’tstillbeensogreat,Chibalewouldhavewalkedandriskedfreezing.Buthewouldn’tmakeitbeforethemillstartedevenifheran.
Heeyedthehorsesthecoachmanwasunhitchingfromthecoach.Hecouldstealoneofthem,buthewasnohorseman,andhewouldprobablybethrownofforpulledoffbythecoachmanbeforehegotveryfar.Filledwithfrustration,hebegantopace.Themovementhadtheaddedeffectofkeepinghimwarm.Atfirstwhenheheardthesoundofwheelsapproaching,hedidn’tbelieveit.Andthenheglimpsedacoachinthedistance.Chibalepausedandblewoutarelievedbreath.Thecoachcouldtraveltothenexttownandsendhelpback.
Andthenasthecoachdrewevencloser,Chibale’ssmilegrew.Heknewthatcoach.ItstoppedabreastofthebrokenpubliccoachandAidanSterlingloweredthepassengerwindow.“Whatseemstobetheproblem?”heasked.
Thecoachmantoldhimaboutthebrokenaxle,andSterlinglistened,hisgazelandingonChibalethenbacktothecoachman.“Wewillsendhelpbackatthenextpostinghouse.”
Thecoachmanthankedhim.
“Mr.Okoro,”Sterlingsaid.“Whyareyoustandingonthesideoftheroad?Ithoughtyou’dbeinHungerfordbynow.”
Chibaleapproachedthecoach.“Ihadpersonalbusinessandcouldn’tleaveyesterday.”
Sterlingpulledouthispocketwatch.“Well,ifyoustandabouthereallday,you’llmissthemill.”Heopenedthedoor.“Getin.”
Chibaleclimbedinandsettledbackontheseatasthecoachdroveaway.
Sterlingofferedhimabrandy,andChibaletookit.
“Iheardyourcoacheswerethemostluxuriouseverbuilt.Iseethatwasn’texaggeration.”Chibaleadmiredthefinecurtainsandupholsteryaswellasthecustomwoodcabinetsandthepaintingontheceiling.
Sterlingwavedahand.“Havetodosomethingwithallofthisblunt.Idon’tliketraveling,sothisismywayofmakingitmorebearable.Youshouldhavewrittentoletmeknowyouweredepartingtoday.”
“Ididn’tknowifIwas.”ChibaletoldhimaboutthevandalismatMadameRenauld’sandwhathe’ddiscoveredaboutNotley.
“Littleweasel,”Sterlingsaid.“I’vealwayshatedhissort.”Herappedontheroofofthecoach.“Changeofplans,”hetoldthecoachman.“Takeusstraighttotheexhibition.Andhurry.”
***
SOMETHINGABOUTHAVINGModestywatchinghimgaveRowdenmoreenergy.EvenCribbcommentedonhowlightoffoothewasandhowsharphisjabslooked.Ofcourse,itdidn’thurttohaveTomCribbcoachinghim,butitwasModestythatmadethedifference.Hecouldspotheroutofthecornerofhiseye.Shesatontheedgeofherchair,leaningforward,eyeslargeandfocusedcompletelyonhim.Thoseeyes.Hehadaweakspotforthem—especiallynowwhenherecognizedthelookinthem.
He’dseenitinAidan’scoachwhenhe’dkissedherandtouchedher.Itwasdesire.Shewantedhim.
Plentyofwomenhadlookedathimlikethat.Plentyhaddonemorethanlook,buthehadn’teverfelttowardanyofthemlikehedidtowardModesty.Hewantedhertooandbadly.Hechanneledthatrawfrustrationintohistrainingandpunchedharder,movedfaster.
Whenhewasfinished,hewenttothecorner,acceptedatowelandwaterfromCribbandwipedhisface.ItwasnosurpriseTrogdonwasnowheretobeseenwiththeoranges.Cribbleanedhiselbowsontheropes.“Youfightlikethattonight,theGermandoesn’tstandachance.”
“I’llfightlikethattonight,”Rowdensaid,awareofthemenstandingaround,listening.Hecouldseethemputtingtheirheadstogether,probablyalreadyplacingbets.Ifhedidwin,heandChibalewouldtakehomeabulgingpurse.Hehadn’tthoughtmuchaboutretiringbefore,butifhewontonight,hewouldleavewhenhewasathisbest.Rowdenpreferredthattospendingseveralmoreyearsbeingpummeledinthearena.
HeglancedatModesty,whowastryingnottolookathim.Butwhatwouldhedowhenheretired?HecouldalwaysbuyoutColonelDravenandworkwithMostyninthestudio.Helikedcoaching.Hecoulddothatalldayandcomehometo…Trogdon.
Hismanservanthadjustenteredthetentcarryingabasket.AssoonashesawRowden,heshifteditfromhishandstohisarm.Rowdenrolledhiseyes,wonderinghowlongTrogdonwoulddragthison.Hegrabbedhisshirtfromtheropesandpulleditoverhishead.“Didyoubuytheoranges?”heasked.
Trogdonpausedmidstep.“Aboutthat,sir.”
RowdensawModestywalkingtheirwayandheldhistemper.“Goon.”
“Theywereoutoforanges.”
RowdenrefrainedfrompointingoutthatwasbecauseTrogdonhadwastedtime,notgoingwhenRowdenhadtoldhim.“Whatdidyoufind?”
Trogdonofferedthebasket,andRowdenremovedthecoveringsinceTrogdonwasstillpretendinghishandswereinjured.Insidewerehalfadozenlemonsandlimes.RowdenstartedtoopenhismouthtochastiseTrogdonbutthenheglancedatModesty.ShehadaworriedlookonherfaceandglancedatTrogdonsympathetically.
“Goodwork,”Rowdensaid.
Trogdon’sheadsnappedup.“Sir?”
“YouknowIdon’tlikeoranges.Muchratherhavelemonsorlimes,andthey’reallcitrus.Goodwork.”
Trogdonstaredathim.“Ididwell,sir?”
RowdenglancedatModesty,whowasbeaming.
“Youdid.”Rowdentookalemonfromthebasket,peeleditandtookabite.Hewincedatthetartnessbutpreferredittothetasteoforangesanyday.“Letmetakethat,”hesaid.“Whydon’tyougobacktoBattle’sPeakandapplysalvetoyourhands?Itoldthehousekeepertoleaveabottleinyourroom.Maybethey’llbefeelingbettertonight.”
Trogdonstaredathim.“Mr.Payne?”
“Yes,Trogdon?”
Trogdonshookhishead.“Justchecking,sir.I’lldothat,sir.”Heleft,andRowdensetthebasketdownandpulledtherestofhisclothingon.He’dexpectedModestytoturnherback,butshewatchedhimquitehungrily.She’dprobablyforgottenshewasn’tsupposedtooglemen.RowdenshookCribb’shandagainandduckedundertheropes.Oneglanceathisrumpledshirtandthecoathangingoverhisarmtoldhimheshouldgobacktohisroomsandpreparebeforegoinganywhere,buthedidn’twantModestytowaitanylonger.
“IknowIlookabitofawreck,butI’llstayinthecoach,”hesaid.
Shefrozeandheinadvertentlytuggedherforwardbeforeherealizedshe’dstopped.“What’swrong?Youdon’twanttogo?”
“Ido,”shesaid.“It’sjustnowthatthemomentishere,I’m…scared?”
“It’syourfather’smistresswhoshouldbescared,”hesaid.?“Giveherthatdisapprovinglookyougavemethefirstnightwemet.She’llburstintotears.”
Modestylaughedandstartedwalkingagain.Helikedhearingherlaugh,likedknowinghecouldmakehersmile,makeherhappy,makeher…well,bestnottothinkofthat.
RowdenleftherwiththebasketattheedgeofthefieldandwenttofindAidan’scoachman.Mostofthecoachmenwereplayingdiceorcards,butAidan’swasstandingbyhishorses,ready.RowdenwavedtohimandwalkedbacktoModesty.Shelookedsoprettystandingwiththebasketinbothhands,thegreenofherdresspeekingoutfromunderabluepelisse,andherhairblowinggentlyinthebreeze.ButhecaughtamovementalittlebehindherandfrownedwhenhespottedNotley.Themanwasleaningagainsttheedgeofastall,handsinhispockets,lookingdeliberatelyinnocent.ButRowdendidn’tlikeit.Notleyhadobviouslyfollowedthem.Themanwasmakingitclearhewaswatchingthem
ModestyturnedtoseewhathadcaughtRowden’sattention,buthemovedbesideherandputhisarmabouther,effectivelyblockingNotley’sviewofher.Hepulledhercloseandwhenthecoachpulledup,heopenedthedoorandliftedherinside.Hegavethecoachmandirectionsthentookhisseatoppositeherjustasthecoachstartedaway.Hesethiscoatdownandreachedforthebuttonsofhisshirt.“I’lljustfastentheseandtiemycravat,”hesaid.
“Don’tbother,”shesaid.Hisgazemethersjustasshemovedacrossthecoachandslidontohislap.Eighteen
Modestydidn’tallowherselftothink.Shejustacted.Sheprobablycouldn’thavestoppedherselfevenifshe’dwantedto.She’dneverwantedanythingasmuchasshewantedtotouchRowdenPayneinthatmoment.Watchinghimhalfnakedinthearena,hismusclesflexingandripplingashepunchedandshuffled,she’dfeltuncomfortablywarm.
Andthenshe’dfeltuncomfortablyaroused.Theplacebetweenherlegswherehe’dtouchedthedaybeforethrobbedandached,andshehadtosqueezeherlegstogethertokeepfromshiftinguncomfortably.Evenherbreastsfelttenderandheavy.HelookedlikethosestatuesoftheGreekgodApolloshehadseenattheBritishMuseum,beforeherfatherhadmadeherleave,sayingtheartwasindecent.Andnowsheunderstoodwhyherfatherhadn’twantedhertoseethosestatuesbecausethethingsshewasthinkingwhenshelookedatRowdenwereindecent.
Sheslidontohislap,andhisarmswrappedaroundherasthoughshehaddonethisadozentimesandhealwaysreactedthus.Hepulledherclose,slidingheragainsthischestandgrippingthebackofhernecktopullhermouthdowninakiss.Hislipsandhistonguetastedoflemon,andhisbodywaswarmfromhisearlierexertions.Shewaswarmbeingpressedagainsthim,andsheuntiedherpelisseandletitdropdown.Hishandswereonherback,whileherhandswereinhishair,herlipsonhismouth,hisneck,hisear.
“Modesty,”hegroaned,andshelikedthewayhisvoicesounded.Itwaslowandhusky.Herlipsmethisagain,andthensherealizedwhathishandshadbeenabout.He’dunfastenedthebackofherdress,andnowtheshoulderssliddown.Rowden’smouthwashotandtantalizingonthebareskinofhercollarandshoulder.Hishandscameup,cuppingherbreasts,andshemoanedbecausetheyweresoheavywithneedandhistouchfeltsogood.Shehadneverimaginedanythingcouldfeelsogood.Shepushedherownbodicedownandoutoftheway,andRowden’smouthkissedthetopsofherbreasts,visibleabovethechemiseandstaysshewore.
Hetuggeddownthechemiseandstaysuntilhernippleswerevisible,puckeringwiththesuddenexposuretotheair.Rowdenliftedhismouthandlookedather.Modestyshouldhavefeltembarrassed,buthernippleshardened,andshefoundshelikedhisgazeonher.
“You’reevenmorebeautifulthanIimagined,”hemurmured,hisbreathwarmonherskin.Onehandcameupandcuppedherbreast,andhisthumbslidoverherdistendednipple.Shegaspedinabreath,thesoundsomewherebetweenpleasureandpain.Histhumbmovedbackandforthoverhernipplewhiletheotherhandreachedunderherskirts.
Sheshookherhead,tryingtoholdontoherthoughts,evenashermindreeledfromhistouch.“Iwantedtokissyou,touchyou,”shesaid.
“Thentouchme.”
Itwasallthepermissionsheneeded.Herfingersmovedtentativelytotouchtheskinofhisthroat.Hestilledasshetouchedhim,brushingherhandsdownintotheVattheneckofhisopenshirt.“More?”heasked.
Shenodded,andheadjustedheronhislapandliftedthehemofhisshirtthentuggeditoverhishead.Hetosseditaside.Modestylookeddownathisbarechestandlickedherlips.Hewassobeautiful.Shehadbeenitchingtotouchhim,andnowthathewasinreach,shedidn’tknowwheretostart.Shedecidedtobeginwithhisshoulders,whichwerebroadandwell-defined.Sheputherhandsonthemandskateddownoverhismuscledbicepsandtohiscordedforearms.Hishandslidunderherskirtsagainandrestedonherknee,strokingitlightlyandplayingwiththeribbonholdinghergarters.
Herhandswenttohisshouldersagain,butthistimesheallowedherfingerstocreepdownoverhischest.Sheplacedahandoverthecenterofhischestandfelthisheartbeatingfastandhard.Insurprise,shecaughthisgaze.
“YouthinkI’munaffected?”heasked.“AbeautifulwomanistouchingmeYou,Modesty,aretouchingme.Ofcourse,myheartisracing.”
Shelickedherlipsagain,andherhandsmovedlower,downtohistautabdomenandthetightrowofmusclesthere.Heflinchedabitassheranherfingersoverhisbelly,andshesmiledathim.“Ticklish?”
“Apparently.”
“ShouldIstop?”
“Never.”Butheseemedtobeattheendofhispatiencebecausehepulledhercloseandkissedher.Modesty’sbarebreastspressedagainsttheskinofhischest,andshefeltheatflarebetweenherlegs,evenashishandslidhigherontoherthigh.Herlegswereoneithersideofhim,givinghimeasyaccesstoherrapidlyheatingcore.Ashemovedtotouchherinnerthigh,hekissedherneckthenherbreasts.“IwanttotouchyouwhereItouchedyoubefore.Iwanttogiveyoupleasureagain.”
“Yes,”shesaidonabreathashisfingersbrushedoverher.
“You’resowarm.”Hismouthtookhernippleashisfingerslidinsideher.Sheclenchedaroundhimwithouteventhinkingofwhatshewasdoing.Hesuckedhernippleashewithdrewhisfingerandslidthewetnessoverthatpartofherthatfeltthemostpleasure.Slowly,hestrokedandtappeduntilshewassquirmingwithneed.Theroadgrewbumpy,andshebracedherhandsonMr.Sterling’sbeautifulpaintedceiling.ThepleasureandneedinhergrewuntilshelookeddownatRowden.Theexpressiononhisfacewassosimilartothoseshe’dseenatchurchwhenpeoplewereworshipping.That’swhathewasdoingnow—worshippingher.Withagasp,herbodycameapart,andshebitherliptokeepfromcryingout.Thenshecollapseduponhim,pressingherlipsontotheskinofhisshoulderandtastingsalt,sweat,andRowden.
***
EITHERTHECOACHMANhadtakenadetourorFannySmithson’sfarmwasfurtherfromHungerfordthanshehadthought,butitwasanothertwentyminutesorsobeforetheyarrived.ThedelaygaveModestytimetorearrangeherclothing,andwithhelpfromRowden,refastenherbodice.AlthoughRowdenwasnotallthathelpfulasheinsistedonkissingherbackandshouldersandmakingherwishtheycouldstartalloveragainbeforehefinallyfinishedfasteningallthetapesandpins.
“Youseemtoknowquiteabitabouthowtodressawoman,”sheremarked,settlingacrossfromhim.
“Iwasmarried,”hesaidwithasmile.
Shesmiledback.Shecouldn’thelpit.Sheprobablyshouldhavebeenmortifiedatwhattheyhadjustdoneandthewayhehadjustmadeherfeel,butshewasn’tatallembarrassed.Shelikedwhenhetouchedher.Shelikedkissinghimandbeingwithhim.Shewishedshedidn’tlikeitquitesomuchbecausetheywouldreturntoLondontomorrow,afterthefight,andthatwouldbetheendofeverything.Rowdenhadmadeitclearheneverwantedtomarryagain.Eventhoughsheknewhewasasattractedtoherasshetohim,thatdidn’tmeanhewouldeverwanttoriskhisheartagain.
Perhapsthatwasforthebest.Shedidnotknowwhatherfutureheld,butwhatkindoflifewouldshehavemarriedtoaprizefighter?Shemighthavestrayedfromherstrictupbringing,butthatdidn’tmeanshewantedtospendthemajorityofhertimeintavernsandatillegalbare-knucklebrawls.
Thecarriagefinallyslowed,andModestypartedthecurtainsandlookedoutatthebrown,barrenfields.Inthesummerandfall,thesefieldswouldbefullofwheatandbarley.Butnowthefieldslaydormantandwaiting.
“Thereitis,”Rowdensaid,pointing.Modestylookedinthatdirectionandspottedasmallhousewithathatchedroofandsmokecurlingoutofachimney.Itwasbuiltofstoneandwassurroundedbyadirtyardandasmallshedwhereacowchewedandwatchedtheirapproachwithinterest.Asthecoachpulledcloser,thewoodendooropenedandtwochildren—aboyandagirl—steppedoutside.Modestyjudgedtheboy’sheightandlonglimbsandputhimataboutfourteen.Thegirlwasclosertotwelve.Neitherworeshoes,butbothweredressedinsoberblack.Andbothhadwide,hazeleyes.EyesModestyknewshehadinheritedfromherfather’ssideofthefamily.
“Youlookwhiteasasheet,”Rowdensaid,takingherhand.“Andyourhandsarelikeice.”
“Didyouseetheireyes?”sheasked.
Helookedather.“It’sanunusualcolor,”hesaid.“Quitestriking.”
Shenodded.“Ididn’twanttobelievetheletters.”Thecoachslowedandstopped.Shecouldhearthechildren’svoicesnow.Theywerehighandexcited,callingoutthatagrandcarriagehadarrived.
Hesqueezedherhand.“Ihopeyoufindanswers.”
Shecouldhearthecoachmanjumpdown.Hewouldopenthedooranymoment.ShetuggedatRowden.“Comewithme.”
Heraisedhisbrows.“Idon’twanttointrude.”
“Idon’twanttogoalone.Please.”
“Ofcourse.”
Whenthedooropened,hewentfirstandthenhandedherdown.Shetriedtofocusonhisface,anditwasarelieftoseethestrengthandcalminhisexpression.Hehadalwaysbeenthereforher.Sheonlyneedtoask.
Thegirltookonelookatherandcurtseyed,andtheboygaveastunnedbow.ModestyrealizedshemustlooklikeafineladyinherRenauld.“Goodafternoon,”shesaid,hervoicesoundingstrongandfarmoreconfidentthanshefelt.“IsMrs.Smithsonathome?”
Awomanappearedbehindthechildren.Shewasonlyslightlytallerthanhersonandplumpwithapinkfaceandcurlyblondhairunderhercap.Shetoowasdressedinblack,butshehadawhiteaprontiedaboutherwaistandhersleevesrolledup.“IamMrs…Smithson.”
Modestystaredatthewomanwhohadwrittenthoseloveletterstoherfather.ShewasnotatallthevillainessModestyhadimagined.Shelookedkindandjolly.ShewasnothinglikeModesty’smother,whohadbeentallandslimandregal—atleastinModesty’smemory—butsheseemedtobethekindofpersononemightwantasamother.Shewasthekindofwomanwhowouldhugachildhardandwipehertearsaway.
Thewoman’sexpressionchanged,andshesteppedforward.“Goinside,”shetoldthechildren.
“But—”thegirlbegan.
“Goinsidenow.”
Headshanginglow,thechildrensteppedbackintothedarkofthesmallhouse.
“You’reModesty,aren’tyou?”Mrs.Smithsonsaid.
Modestynodded.“AndyouareFannySmithson.”
Shewasuntyingherapronnowandrollingdownhersleeves,obviouslyattemptingtolookmorepresentable.“Thenyoureceivedmyletter.”
“Letter?”Modestyasked.
“Isentitafewdaysago.Ididn’tknowwhatelsetodo.”
Modestyshookherhead.“Ineverreceivedit.”
“Thenhowdidyou—”Shewavedthethoughtaway.“Nomatter.Comeinside.Yourfatherwillwanttoseeyou.”
Atthementionofherfather,Modestyfeltasthoughshemightcollapse,butRowdenwasrightbehindher.Hetookherarmandhelditfirmly.Shewantedtospeak,butnowordsseemedtocomefromhermouth.Finally,Rowdenspoke.“Allowmetointroducemyself,Mrs.Smithson.I’mRowdenPayne,afriendofMissBrown’s.”
Shebobbedacurtsy.“Mr.Payne.You’reoneofthebrawlersattheexhibition?”Sheglancedinthedirectionoftheracecourseandthetown.
“Iam.DidyousaythatMr.Brownishere?”
“Idid,Mr.Payne.He’sinside.”
“Thenperhapshecouldcomeoutsidetospeakwithhisdaughter.”
Modestylookedathim,feelingarushofgratitude.Shedidnotwanttoenterthehouse.Shecouldn’tbeartoseethelifeherfatherhadcreatedwiththisotherwoman.
“Iwouldaskhim,”Mrs.Smithsonsaid,hergazemovingtoModestyasthoughsheunderstood.“Buthislegisbroken,andthedoctorsayshecan’tputanyweightonit.It’sabadbreak.”
“Isee,”Modestysaid,hervoicesoundingfaint.Herfatherwasalive.Hewasinsidethehousewithabrokenleg.Rowdenleaneddown,speakinginherear.
“Doyouwantmetogoinandspeakwithhim?”
Yes,shedid.Shewantedtogohideinthecarriageandpretendnoneofthiseverhappened.Instead,shesquaredhershoulders.“Ithinkyou’dbetterwaitoutside.Itlookssmallforsomanypeople.”
“I’llberighthereifyouneedme.”
Shenoddedandgatheredherskirts,followingMrs.Smithsonintothehouse.Theinteriorwasdark,andittookamomentforhereyestoadjust.Whentheydid,shesawthehousewasquitesimplebutcomfortable.ItlookedfarmorecomfortablethanherhouseinLondon.ShesupposedthesmalltouchesMrs.Smithsonhadaddedmadeitseemthatway.Wovenrugslayonthefloorandaknittedblankethadbeenthrownoveronechair.Thatchairwasbesideanotherclosetothehearth.Andonthemantelabovethehearthwereprettythingslikeaglassvaseandawatercolorpaintingofahouse—thisone,sherealized—inthespring.
“He’shere,”Mrs.Smithsonsaid,gesturingtoanareainthebackofthehousethathadbeenseparatedfromthefrontwithablanketdrapedoveraclothesline.
“Whoisit?”thefamiliarvoiceofherfatherasked.
Modestyimmediatelywantedtocoverherexposedneckanddipherhead,hidingherredhairunderanimaginaryblackhat.Instead,sheclearedherthroat.“It’sModesty,Father.”
Mrs.Smithsonpulledtheblanketaside,andModestystaredatherfather,onelegsupportedbywoodsplintsandwrappedinlinen.Thelegwasproppedonapillowtoelevateit.Morepillowswerebehindhisbackonthebed,keepinghimupright.Modestystaredathim,atthegrowthofhisbeard,athowinformallyhewasdressed—inshirtsleeves.Andthenhergazedriftedtotheemptypillowbesidehim.Therewasjustenoughspaceonthebedforanotherperson.AndModestyhadnodoubtwhothatotherpersonmightbe.
***
ROWDENWASN’TCOLD,eventhoughthebreezehadpickedup.Thesunwasstillwarmandhisexertionsinthecarriagehadcertainlywarmedhisblood.Heratherwelcomedthecoolairtodampenhisardor.AsmuchashelikedgivingModestypleasure,itwasnevereasytodenyoneself.
Itmightnotbeeasy,butitwasnecessary.Herhusbandshouldtakehervirginity.Nothe.
Heshouldn’tevenbekissingortouchingher.He’dknownthiswouldhappeniftheytraveledalonetogether.Thiswaswhyhe’dwantedtoendtheirassociation.Themorehewaswithher,theclosertheybecameandthemorehewantedfromher.Themorehewantedher
Thatwasaneasyfix.He’dmetwomenhelikedinthepast,womenhewantedalongerrelationshipwith.HeneedonlyclosehiseyesandbringtomindtheimageofMary,deathlypale,bellydistended,asheenofsweatoverhersweetface.“Savethebaby,”shehadwhisperedtohimbeforeherhandwentlimp.
They’dtried,butintheend,hissonhaddiedaswell.
Thepainofthatdayandthemonthsandyearsfollowingit,wasenoughtodampenhisardor.Itwasenoughtoremindhimthathewantedtobealone.Hecouldneverallowhimselftofeelpainlikethatagain.Hewouldn’tsurviveitthenexttime.
Hetriedtobringthatpainbackintofocusnow,toremindhimself.Itflickeredtolifeandbegantosmolder,thepainstillrawlikeanewburn.ButhismindalsoconjuredtheimageofModesty.Shestraddledhim,hergloriousbreastsupthrustasshethrewherheadbackfrompleasure.Hersexwaswarmandwetashisfingersprobedit,andherbodywelcomedhistouch.Hereyesmethis,wantingmore.Shemightnotknowpreciselywhatshewanted,buthedid.
Rowdenpacedawayfromthecoach,swearingsoftly.Ithadbeenthiswayfromthestart.Hecouldn’tkeepthepaincenteredwithher.Thepainofhislossfaded,thepleasureofbeingwithherblottingitout.
Rowdensupposedthatwouldlastuntilhegotherwithchild.Anactoflovemightverywellkillher.EvennowRowdenimaginedEwanwashomewonderingifhisownchildwouldsurviveorifhemightlosebothhiswifeandchildinpainandblood.
No,Lorriewasstrong,andshewasnotasfaralongasMaryhadbeen.Shewouldsurvive,andifsheandEwanlostthischild,theywouldtryagain.Rowdenhadlosteverything,though,andhecouldn’tfacethatpainasecondtime.
Thesoundoffootstepsshookhimfromhismemories,andheturnedtoseeayoungmanapproaching.Hewasofmediumheightandbuild,hishairlightbrownunderhishat,asackwithtoolsslungoverhisback.Hewasdressedwarmlywithascarfabouthisneckandthelowerhalfofhisface,buthepulleditdownnowasheapproachedthecarriageandspottedRowden.
Rowdenrecognizedthepointedjaw,whichcouldsetsostubbornlyonModesty,andtheshapeoftheman’slips.TheyremindedhimofModestyaswell.Hedidn’thavethehazeleyeshissiblings—allthreeofthem—shared,buttheresemblancewasclearenough.
“Goodafternoon,”themansaidcautiously.
Rowdenreachedforhishatthenrealizedhe’dleftitinthecoach.“Goodafternoon.”Heheldouthishandasthemanapproached.“RowdenPayne.”
ThemanremovedhisworkgloveandshookRowden’shand,hisownhandcallusedandweathered.“SamuelBrown.Whatbringsyouhere?”
Soherfatherhadgivenhisby-blowshissurname.That,atleast,washonorable.“I’mescortingafriend.”Nopointinkeepingitasecret.“AMissModestyBrown,whowashopingtofindherfather.”
Samuel’sbrowneyeswidenedthensoftenedwithunderstanding.Heknewofhishalf-sisterandhadprobablyexpectedshewouldcomeoneday.“Sheisinsidewithhim?”
“Sheis.Iwouldsaysheisrelievedtoseehimaswhenhedisappeared,shethoughthimdead.Ofcourse,nowshefindsaverydifferentreality.”
Themannodded.Hewasperhapstwenty,certainlynoolder.Andyethecarriedtheweightofanoldermanonhisshoulders.Perhapsbecausehisfatherhadbeensooftenabsent,andthisSamuelBrownmusthavetakenontheroleofprotectorandprovideratayoungage.
“Haveyouseenhim?”
“No.”
“Hislegisbadlybroken.Itwasinjuredwhenhefellofftheroof.”
Rowdenglancedatthethatchedroofspeculatively.
“Heshouldn’thavebeenupthere,Iknow,”Samuelsaid.“Buthe’sastubbornman,andhewasangrythatwe’dkeptthestateofthecottagefromhim.We’retenantsofLordChesterton.Heownsmostofthelandinthisarea.He’snotabadlandlord,andhislandstewardwasonlydoinghisjob.Theroofleakedandwasindangerofcavingin.I’dgonetoReadingtofindsomeworkthatwouldpayincoinssomymothercouldbuymaterialtomakemybrotherandsisternewclothing.They’dgrownoutofalmosteverything,andthefallharvestbarelypaidthecostofbuyingseedforthespringplanting.WhenIreturned,thesituationwasdire.SoIwenttoTowntoaskforsomecoinandmyfatherendedupcominghimself.Iwasoutinthefieldsthatday,butwhenIcamehomefordinner,thedoctorwasleaving.Hesaidmyfathercouldn’tbemovedforatleastsixweeks.Hefittedhimwithasplintandmedicineforthepainandtookhalfmycoinforthetrouble.Itwasn’tuntilafewdaysagothathewaslucidenoughtoaskaboutMissModestyandmymotherwrotetoher.”
Rowdenshookhishead.“Sheneverreceivedtheletter.”
Samuelfrowned.“Thenhowdidshefindhim?”
“Shediscoveredoldlovelettersbetweenyourparentsinyourfather’sroomat—er,hisLondonhome.”
Samuel’sfacewentwhite.“Isee.”
Rowdenwasn’tquitesurehedidsee.Modesty’slifehadobviouslybeenverydifferentfromhis.HewasalmostcertainlyaGod-fearingman,buthedidn’tquotescriptureasModestyhadwhenRowdenhadfirstmether.ItappearedtoRowdenthatinthecountry,Mr.Brownhadbeenafarmer,andinthecity,apreacher,andnowthosetwoworldswereabouttocollide.
***
“MODESTY.”HERFATHERreachedoutahandtoher.Partofherwantedtotakeit.Partofherwantedtorushintohisarmsandhughimbecausehewasalive,andshehadn’tlosthim.Butpartofherdidnotknowthemanlyinginthebed.Thebedhesharedwithawomanwhowasnothiswifeandnothermother.
“Youreceivedmyletter?”heasked
Sheshookherheadandpulledthepacketoflettersfromthepocketwhereshe’dstuffedthemjustbeforesteppingoutofthecoach.Mrs.Smithson—orwasitBrown?—madeasoftsoundfrombehindher,andModestyknewsherecognizedthemimmediately.Herfatherheldhishandoutimperiously,tooktheletters,andfrowneddownatthem.“Iwishyouhadn’tfoundthese.”
“Iwishyouhadn’tdisappearedwithoutsayingaword.Ithoughtyouweredead.”
“IthoughtIwouldonlybegoneforaday.IknewifIsentyouonanerrand,youwouldtakehours.Youalwaysdawdle.”
Modestystraightened.Shewantedtoarguethatshehadn’tdawdledthatday,butshehad.
“Ileftinahurryandhopedtoreturnassoonastherepairsherewerefinished.TheroofwasabouttofallinonMrs.Brownandthechildren.”
Modestyinhaledsharplyatthenamehe’dgivenhismistress.
“Icouldn’tallowthattohappen,”hesaid,seemingnottonotice.“Ishouldhaveleftyouword.”
“Yes,youshouldhave.Youshouldhavetoldmeabout”—shegesturedattheroom—”allofthis.”Shelookedatherfather’smistress—wife.“Abouther.”
“Excuseme.”Mrs.Brownduckedaroundtheblanketthathungasabarrier,leavingthemalone.Althoughtheyweren’treallyalone.Ablanketwouldnotevenmutethesoundoftheirvoices.Howstrangetospeaktoherfatherlikethisnow,whenforsomanyyearsithadonlybeenthetwoofthem.Andyet,theyhadneverspokenfreely.Sheunderstoodthatnow.Shehadneverevenknownhim.
“Idon’tevenknowwhoyouare,”shesaidnow,echoingherthoughts.“Allmylifeyouhavebeenthemanstandingonthecorner,admonishingmenandwomentorepentoftheirsins.Youchastisedpeopledoingnothingmorethanenteringatavernorwatchingafight,andallalong,youwere…fornicatingherewithyourmistress.”
“I’llthankyounottorefertoherinthoseterms.”
“HowshouldIrefertoherthen?”
“Sheismywife.”
Modestyrearedbackasthoughslapped.She’dknownalready,buthearingitfromhismouthwasstillashock.
Herfathernodded.“Imarriedherafewyearsago.Ididn’ttellyoubecauseIcouldn’ttellthechurch.Ididn’twanttolosemyposition.”
“That’swhatyoucaredabout?Yourposition?”Sheturnedtogo.Shehadtogobeforethetearsstartedstreamingdownhercheeks.
“Modesty,”herfathersaid,andshestoppedbecauseshecouldn’tnotobeyhim.“Iwantedtotellyouaswell,butIknewhowyouwouldreact.Iknowhowmuchyoulovedyourmother.”
“Morethanyou,asitturnsout,”shesaid.
Thesilencethatfollowedletherknowherwordshadhittheirmark.
“YourmotherknewIwasaflawedman.Sheforgaveme.”
Modestyroundedonhim.“Andhowdidyourepayher?Byreforming?No,bycontinuingtodojustasyouhadbefore.AsIsaid,youarenotthemanIthoughtyouwere.”
“Andwhataboutyou?”Hepointedtoher.“Wheredidthatdresscomefrom?Andyourhairisdowninthestyleofaharlot.Howdidyoumanagetocomehere?IwonderifyouaretheyoungwomanIthoughtyouwere.”
Modestylookedathim,lyingonthebedwithhisimmobilizedleg.Shefeltsorryforhisinjury.Shefeltsorryforhiswifeandthechildrenwhohadalwayslivedintheshadowofhisotherlife,inhershadow.Thetruthwasrevealednow,andshehadalwaysbeentaughtthatthetruthwouldsetthemallfree.
“I’mnotthewomanyouthoughtIwas,”shesaidfinally.“AndI’llneverbethatwomanagain.”Shereachedfortheblanket,whichfeltmuchheaviernowwhenshepulleditback.Herfathercalledhernameagain,butthistimeshedidn’tobey.Thistimeshewalkedthroughthehouse,dimlyawareofthechildrenthatstaredather,andoutthedoor.Nineteen
Rowdenstoppedmidsentence,forgettinghistrainofthoughtassoonasModestywalkedthroughthedoor.Hecouldseebyherstrickenexpressionthatthemeetingwithherfatherhadnotgonewell.Shewalkedbrisklyacrosstheyardandwhenshereachedhim,shesaid,“Iwanttogo.”
HergazeflickedtoSamuelBrownandthenbacktoRowdenandthentoSamuel.Rowdengesturedtotheyoungman.“ThisisMr.SamuelBrown.”
Hesawherflinchwhenhesaidthesurname.
Herbrothergaveaquickbow.“MissBrown.”Shesaidnothingforalongmoment,andRowdenthoughtshewoulddemandtoleaveagain,butcrueltywasn’tpartofherbeing.Andhecouldseehersoftening,evenasshewantedtocuttheman.
“Mr.Brown,”shesaid,andheldoutherhand.“Orrather,IsupposeyouareSamuelBrown,Junior.
Rowdencouldseehertrytopushthehurtaway.
“Thesearedifficultcircumstancesunderwhichtomeet,”shesaid.
“Yes,theyare.I’mgiventounderstandyoudidn’tknowaboutme—aboutus.”
ShelookedatRowden,andhefeltimmediatelyguiltythathehadrevealedsomethingabouther.
“Ididnotknowuntilrecently.”
Samuelnodded.“I’msorryyoufoundoutthisway.”
“Yes.”Shepaused,seemedtoconsider.“Mr.Brown?MightIaskhowoldyouare?”
“I’mtwenty,MissBrown.Isitpresumptuousformetoaskyourage?”
“Threeandtwenty,Mr.Brown.”Herwordswerestilted.Ofcourse,she’dknownshewouldbeolder.Rowdenthoughtshehadadifferentreasonforasking.Herbrothermusthaverealizeditaswell.
“Whendidyourmotherdie,MissBrown?”Samuelasked.
“Seventeenyearsago,”shesaid.“Almosteighteennow.”ShelookedatRowden.“I’dliketogo,Mr.Payne.”
Rowdenwantedtotellhertostay,totalktoherbrother.She’dbeenlookingforheraunt,forfamily,andnowshehadfoundit.Instead,heopenedthedoortothecoachandhelpedherinside.HeshookMr.Brown’shandandwishedheknewwhattosaytoeasethepainhesawintheyoungman’seyes.ThatsamepainwasreflectedinModesty’seyeswhenshelookedbackathimasthecoachpulledaway.
Hewouldhavelikedtojumpfromthecoach.Heknewwhatwascoming,andhehatedwhenwomencried.ButthiswasModesty,andhecouldn’tleaveheraloneinherpain.
Heopenedhisarms,andsheonlyhesitatedamomentbeforesherushedintothem.Almostimmediately,shebegantosob,andRowdencoulddonothingbutholdher.Hecouldn’tevenofferherreassuringwords.Thoughherfatherwasalive,thecircumstancesinwhichshe’dfoundhimwerenotcomforting.
“Hebrokehisleg,”shesaid,lookingupathimthroughwet,clumpedlashes.“ThatwaswhyhedidnotreturntoLondon.”
“Iknow,”Rowdensaid.“Hewasrepairingtheroof.Didyoutrulyneversuspect?Didheneverhaveanyotherunexplainedabsences?”
“Iseeitnow,”shesaid.“Ofcourse,Iseeitnow.Thetimeswhenheneededsolitudetowritehissermonandwasawayforseveraldays.Ialwaysthoughthewasatthechurch.ThetimeshesentmetospendacouplenightswiththePlineyssohecouldspendtimeinmeditationandprayer.Ithoughthewassopious,soholy.Buthewaslying.”
“Heshouldhavetoldyou.”
“Yes!”Shenodded.“Iwouldhaveunderstood.IthinkImightevencometolikeMrs.Smithson—er,Brown.Butnotlikethis—notlikethis!”
Hepulledhercloseagain,heldher.“WhatwillIdo?”sheasked.
Andthoughhethoughtthequestionwasrhetorical,heanswered,“Whateveryouwanttodo.You’refreenow.Youcouldseekoutyourauntorcomeliveherewithyoursiblings.”
“No!”
“Whynot?”Hepulledbackandlookeddownather.“Thechildrendidnotasktobeborn.Theydidnothingwrong.You’velivedallofyourlifethinkingyouhadnofamily,andyetyouhaveasisterandtwobrothers.Youstillhaveyourfather.”
Hewaswellawarethathisvoicebrokeonthatlastphrase.
Modestylookedathimandthenswipedhertearsaway.“You’reright.HowselfishImustseem,cryingoverthiswhenIhaveafamily.”
“Youareupset,andyouhaveeveryrighttobe.”
“Sodoyou!”sheinsisted.“Yourfathertreatedyoumostunfairly.Andyoursistersandbrothersallfellinline.It’snotright.”
“Intheirminds,Ididtheunforgivable.Justasinyourmind,yourfatherhasdonetheunforgivable.”
Sheslumpedbackontotheseatbesidehim.“Idon’twanttoforgivehim.”
“Thendon’t.”
“Ihaveto.Seventytimesseven.”ShewasquotingtheBibleagain.
“Well,youdon’thavetoforgivehimtoday.Tomorrowornextweekorthenextweekwillbesoonenough.OristhereaScriptureastohowsoon?”
“Thereisnot.”Shesmiledathim,andhewasgladtoseehertearsseemedtohavepassed.“Idonotwanttothinkofhimtonight.TonightIwanttoseeyoubeattheGerman’sbrainsin.”
Hegapedather.
“Isn’tthatwhatyousay?”
“Ididn’tthinkyou’dsayit.”
Hersmilefaded.“Isupposewhatmyfathersaidistruethen.”
“What’sthat?”
“HesaidIwasnotthewomanhethoughtIwas.”
“Idon’tthinkheeverknewyouanymorethanyouknewhim.”
“That’sjustit,”shesaid.“Heneverknewme.Ineverknewme.AllIwantedwastobethedaughterhewantedmetobe.Onehewouldlove.Onemymotherwouldhavebeenproudof.IthoughtIhadtobeperfect.Ihadtofollowallofhisrules.Buthedidn’tevenfollowthem!”Sheshookherhead.“Somanyyearswasted,tryingtobewhathewanted,andIneverthoughtonceaboutwhatIwanted.”
“Andwhatdoyouwant?”heasked.
Shelookedathim,andtheanswerwasplain.Shewantedhim.Rowdenwouldhavemovedheavenandearthtogiveheranythingshewanted—anythingbuthimself.Thathecouldn’tdo.Shelookeddown,obviouslyseeinghisansweronhisface.“Idon’treallywantyoutobeatanyone’sbrainsin,”shesaidquietly.“Justknockhimdownlongenoughtowin.”
“Iwill.Youcancountonit.”
***
AIDANANDCHIBALEWEREwaitingforthemassoonastheyreturnedtoBattle’sPeak.LadyFlorentiawasentertainingtheminherdrawingroom,butshewasintelligentenoughtoknowwhenthemenwishedtospeakprivately.ShedrewModestyaway,sayingshelookedwearyandshouldrestbeforetheevening’sevents.Modestymusthavebeenwearybecauseshedidnotargueandallowedherselftobeledaway.
Whenthedoorclosedandthefootstepsfaded,Rowdenlookedexpectantlyathistwofriends.
“Badnews,”Chibalesaid.Hewasneveronetomincewords.“NotleyisinHungerford.”
“Iknow,”Rowdensaid,sippingtheteaLadyFlorentiahadpouredhimandwishingitwassomethingstronger.ButnowthatChibalewashere,Rowdenshouldberelievedhedidn’thaveorangejuicepoureddownhisthroat.“Isawhimattheexhibitiongrounds.”
“Didheapproachyou?”Aidanasked.Hewithdrewasilverflaskfromhiscoatpocketandaddedasplashofbrandytohistea.RowdenglancedatChibale,whoshookhisheadslowly.
“Notreally,buthewaslurkingabout.Isupposehe’slookingforanewfighter.”
“He’slookingforrevenge,”Chibalesaid.“ForwhatwedidtotheBlackPlague.”
“Ifheis,he’safool.”
“Noquestionofthat,”Aidansaid.“Andnoquestionhewantsrevenge.HesentmentovandalizeMadameRenauld’sshop.”
Rowdenshotup,hisgazedartingtoChibale.“Wasanyonehurt?”
Chibaleshookhishead.“No.Theshopwasempty.Thedamagewasmonetary.”
“I’msorrytohearthat,”Rowdensatbackagain.“HowdoyouknowitwasNotley?”
Chibaleexplainedhowheknew,andthenaddedthelastpoint.“Ifhe’scomeafterMadameRenauldbecauseofmyassociationwithherthenhemayverywellcomeafterMissBrown.”
“Iknewitwashim!”Rowdensaid,standingagain,fistsclenched.“Ishouldhavekilledhimbefore.Hedeservestodiefortouchingher!”
IfAidanwasn’tsoquick,Rowdenmighthavemadeitoutthedoor,butAidancaughthim,andwithChibale’shelp,theypushedhimbacktohisseat.IttooksometimeforRowdentocalmdownandfinallybeabletoexplainwhathadhappenedtoModestyatthepostinghouse.
“Itprobablywashim,”Aidansaid.“Oroneofhistoadies.”
“Butyougoforhimnow,they’lldisqualifyyoufromthemilltonight.”
“Idon’tcare.”
“Ido,”Chibalesaid.
“You’llbemoreeffectiveifyoumakeaplan,”Aidansaid.“I’mnotasgoodatstrategyasFortescueis—”
“Fortescue?”Chibaleasked.
“Oneofourtroopinthewar,”Rowdensaid.“StratfordFortescue.”
“—butIalwayslikedagoodambush,”Aidansaid.“Isayweambushhimafterthefight.Therewillbeafewmagistratesatthemill.WehaveonelieinwaitwithusandforceNotleytoconfess.”
“Toomuchplanning,”Rowdensaid.“Let’sjustbeathimuntilhebegsformercy.”
Aidanwinced.“Letmeworryabouttheplan.YousavethatangerfortheGerman.”
“Yes!”Chibalesaid,brightening.“Channelit.Andspeakingofanger,whatisthisIhearaboutTomCribbtakingoveryourtraining?”
“He’snottakingovermytraining,”Rowdensaid.
“Good.”Chibalepulledanorangefromhispocket.“BecauseonlyIthinktobringyougiftslikethis.”
Rowdensighed,tooktheorange,andpeeledit.
***
THETENTWASFULLTOburstingwithmenwantingtowatchthemill.Modestyevenspottedquiteafewladies—trueladies,whoweredressedwellandrichly.Shefeltshecouldalmostbeoneofthemassheworeaburnishedgolddressembellishedwithvelvetribbonsinadeeprussetcolor.Apparently,MadameRenauldhadsentitwithMr.OkorosoModestywouldlookherbestfortheevent.
LadyFlorentiahaddeclinedtoattend,butshehadhermaidstyleModesty’shair,anditwasaprofusionofcurls,elegantlyarrangedaboutherheadwithpiecesdownaboutherfaceandshoulders.ShecouldnotwaituntilRowdensawher.Sheknewshelookedwell,andshewantedtoseehisexpressionwhenhespottedher.“Doyouseehim?”ModestyaskedMr.Sterling.
Hewasescortingherthisevening,keepingherclosetohissidebutnotsoclosethatshecouldn’tlookabout.
“Notyet.”Hepointedtoasectionofthetentthatseemedtocontainanothertent.“He’smostlikelyinthere,”hesaid.“Theorganizersliketoincreasethesuspensebykeepingthemillingcovesoutofsightuntiltheyfight.”
“Doyouthinkhe’snervous?”
Mr.Sterlingpushedpastamanandofferedheraseatwithaperfectviewoftheropedoffareainthecenter.Itwasjusthighenoughthatherviewwouldnotbeblockedandnotsoclosethatshewouldbesplatteredwithbloodorsweat.Modestytooktheseatandlookedaroundattheotherspectatorsdoinglikewise.
“Idoubthe’snervous.Buthe’sprobablypacingbacktherewithallthepent-upenergy.”
Shenodded.“Hedidsayitwasdifficulttosleepafterafight.”
Mr.Sterlingpointedtothearena.“Therearethefirstfighters.”
“Theylooksosmall,”shesaid,observingthemen.TheywerebothbiggerthanshebutlookedquiteyoungandwouldhavebeenoutweighedbyRowden.
“They’reyoungandnew,”Aidansaid,“butdon’tdiscountthem.They’relightandfast.They’llputonagoodshow.”
ButModestycouldn’twatchmorethanamomentofthefightbeforesheturnedherattentionbacktothecrowd.Shedidn’tliketoseeanyonebeinghurtandfoundnopleasurewhenamanwasknockeddown.ExceptfortheGerman.ShewouldratherhebeknockeddownthanRowden.
ShethoughtsherecognizedafewpeoplefromLondon—menshehadseenattheCockandBull.Mr.Okorosatwithagroupofthem.Theyhuddledclose,speakinginlowvoices,theireyesonthefight.Mr.SterlinghadsaidwhenMr.Okorowentbackintotheinnertentitwouldn’tbelongbeforeRowden’smatch.ThemanagerwouldgoinsidetomakesureRowdenwasready.
“IsMr.TrogdonwithRowden?”sheasked.
“Who?”Mr.Sterlinglookedatherthenbackatthearena.“Thatworthlessmanservant?Hedidn’tevenrememberthecitrusfruit.”Hepointedtoabagathisfeet.“Ihadtobringit.”
“Oh,dear.PoorTrogdon.”
“PoorTrogdon!PoorRowden.LordNicholassentthembothoffinmyothercoachanhourbeforeweleft.”
Modestyglancedathim.“LordNicholas?”Shehadyettomeettheirelusivehost.
“Hespendsallhistimeinthestables,”Mr.Sterlingsaid.“He’shorsemad,alwayshasbeen,fromwhatIhear.Ahorsefellonhimduringthewar,though,andcrushedhisleg.Hehasn’triddensinceanddoesn’tliketobeseenincompanybecauseoftheinjury.”
“Oh,howawful.Didhelosehisleg?”sheasked.
“No,buthewalkswithsomedifficulty.Anddon’tlethimhearyoupityhim.Hedislikesit.”
ModestysurmisedshewouldnotbemeetingLordNicholas.Shewouldhavelikedtothankhimforopeninghishometothem.Shelookeddownatthesackoffruitagain.“ShouldyoubringthattoRowdenbeforethefight?”
Heglanceddownatthesackthenather.“Iwasthinkingyoumightliketodothat.”
Modestyshookherhead.“Idon’tthinkthat’sappropriate.”
“Lookaround.”Hegesturedtothemenyellingandwavingtheirfists,themoneyexchanginghands,thepickpocketsandprostitutesmovingthroughthecrowd.“There’snothingappropriateaboutyoubeinghere.”Heleanedclosertoherandsmiled.“Andwhocares?IthinkRowdenmightlikeakissforluckbeforethefight.”
Modestyfelthercheeksflame.“Mr.Sterling!”
Heshrugged.“Onthecheek,ofcourse.”Heliftedthesackoflemonsandlimesandofferedthemtoher.
“Fine.”Shestoodandtookthemthenallowedhimtoleadherthroughthecrowdandtothetentwherethemillingcoveswaitedfortheirturninthearena.Alargemanguardedtheentrance,andheshookhisheadasModestyapproached.Shestartedtoturnaround,butMr.Sterlingmotionedherforward.
“Igor,mygoodman,”Sterlingsaidtothelargemanasthoughtheywereoldfriends.
“Nooneisallowed.Them’sorders,”Igorsaid,crossinghisthickarmsoverhisbroadchest.
“Igor,Ithoughtwewerefriends.Friendsdofavorsforeachother.”
IgorfrownedathimandModestyalmostranbacktoherseatagain.ButSterlingmotionedforhertowait.
“NameisnotIgor,”thelargemansaid.
“IknowyournameisTom,butIgorfitsyousomuchbetter.”Mr.SterlingreachedupandawkwardlywrappedanarmaboutIgor-also-known-as-Tom’sshoulders.“Listen,”hesaid,pullingthemandownslightly.“Iwantedtotalktoyouaboutabusinessproposition.”
IttookModestyamomenttorealizewhilehewasspeaking,hewasmotioningwithhisfreehandforhertoduckintothetent.Modestydidso,steppingintoasmallerarealitbyafewcandlesratherthantheelaboratetorchesandlanternsinthebiggertent.Whenhereyesadjusted,shesearchedforRowden,butdidn’tseehim.Theplacewascrowdedwithhalf-dressedmen,mostofthemlookingather.
“Ithinkyou’dhavemoreluckifyoucametoseeusafterthemill,”oneofthemsaidtoher.Modestyswallowed.Heobviouslythoughtshewasaprostitute.Mostlikelyahighlypaidoneasshewaswell-dressed.
Sheclearedherthroat.“I’mlookingforTheRoyalPayne.”
Themanwho’daddressedhernodded.“Hehasalltheluck.He’sintheback.”
Shefollowedhisfingerandmadeherwaythroughthemen,mostofwhomsteppedasidetoletherpass.Rowdensatonachairintheback,deepinconversationwithanotherfighter,butassheneared,helookedupthenjumpedup.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Modestyhadadifficulttimecomprehendingwhathehadsaid.Heworeonlybreeches,andtheyweresnugonhislegs,endingjustbelowthekneetoshowoffhiscalves,whichwerebarelikehisfeet.Hischestwasalsobareandsomewhatshinyinthecandlelight.Hewaseithersweatingorhadrubbedsomethingonit.Shehadtheintenseurgetorunherfingersalonghisskinandseeifitwasasslickasitlooked.
“Modesty,”Rowdensaid.“WhereisAidan?”
Shegesturedvaguelytowardthefront.“WithIgor.”
“What?”
Sheheldoutthesackofcitrus,stillunabletotakehereyesfromhim.“Ibroughtthese.Mr.Trogdonforgotthem.”
Trogdonsuddenlypoppedupfrombehindoneoftheotherfighters.“Ah,good.Iwasjustlookingforthose.”Hetookthesack.
“Yourhandsfeelbetter?”sheasked,notingbrieflythathehadtakenthesackwithhishandsandthatthehandswerenolongerbandaged.ThenshelookedbackatRowden.
“Thesalveworkedwonders,”Trogdonsaid,openingthesack.“Lemon?”heofferedRowden.
“Inamoment.”RowdentookModesty’sarmandpulledherdeeperintothetent.Shethoughthewaslookingforadarkcornertokissherandhavehiswaywithher—atleastthatwaswhatshehoped—buthepushedoutofthetentandintotheeveningjustoutside.Modestytookadeepbreath,gladofthefreshairandspace.NooneelsewasoutsideandRowdenbackedherupagainstthetent.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Takingalookatyouinthatdress,”hesaid.“MadameRenauldhasoutdoneherself.”Modestyfelthercheeksheatandlookeddown.Hisfingerliftedherchin.“Nowyoulookdown?Youreyeswerepracticallyeatingmeupinside.”
Shecouldn’tstophergazefromdriftingbacktohischest,andhertonguewetherlips.
Rowdengroaned.“You’llbethedeathofmeifyoukeeplookingatmelikethat.Youdon’tunderstandhowbadlyIwantyou.”Hemovedcloser,onehandreachingouttofingeracurl.Hewascarefulnottotouchhisbodytohersashedidhavesomethingrubbedonhisskin.
“IthinkIunderstand,”shesaid.“Iwantyoutoo.”
Heleaneddownandwhisperedinherear.“IfIwasn’tcoveredinthis,I’dtakeyourighthereandrightnow.”
“Whatisit?”Modestyasked.
“Youdon’twanttoknow,butit’ssavingyourvirtue.”
Modestyshiveredwiththeanticipationofpleasure.“Cometometonight.”Shehadn’tknownshewouldsayit,butshedidn’tregretthewords.Shemeantthem.Shewantedhiminherbedtonight.
Hegroaned.“YouknowIcan’t.”
“Why?”Shelookedathim,putahandonhischeek,whichwasroughwithstubble.“Iwantyou,Rowden.Iloveyou.”
Heclosedhiseyesasthoughthewordshurthim.“Don’tloveme.”Buthetiltedhisheadsohischeekwaspressedcloselyagainstherhand.
“It’stoolate.Ialreadyloveyou.IthinkI’velovedyoufordays.Iknowyoudon’twanttomarry,butdon’tyouthinkyoucouldloveme—”
Hesteppedback.“No.Ican’tmarry,andIcan’tloveyou.Itoldyou—”
“Becauseofyourwife,yes,Youmournherstill.”
Hedidn’tspeak,andshestraightened.“Iunderstand.Icanwait.”
“No.”Hemovedclosetoheragain,soclosethatthistimeshedidliftahandandpressittothecenterofhischest.
“Idon’tmindwaiting.”
“YouthinkI’daskyoutowait?Youdeservebetterthanthatandbetterthanme,Modesty.”
Herhandtraileddownhischesttohisflatbelly.Shefelthismusclestighten.“Thereisnoonebetterthanyou,”shesaid.
Hecaughtherhandandheldit.“It’snotthatImournher.IwasbarelyoneandtwentywhenImarriedher,andshe’sbeengonetenyears.”
“Thereisn’tatimelimitongrief,”shesaid.“Clearlyyouarestillinpain.”
Heletoutabreathandreleasedherhand.“No.I’mfarmoreofacowardthanyouthink.That’stherealproblem.”
“You’renotacoward.”Shewantedtotouchhimagain.Shefeltasthoughshealwaysneededtobetouchinghim,butsheknewhedidn’twantthatatthemoment.
“Iam.IdidmournMary,and—”Hisjawworkedasthoughhewasn’tsurehowtosaythenextwords.
“Andthebaby,”hesaid.Hisvoicewassolow,shebarelyheardhim.Foramoment,shesaidnothingandthenshegraspedhishand,hard.
“Shediedinchildbirth?”
Henodded,andshecouldseethesheenoftearsinhiseyes.“Thebabywas…”Hisvoicebroke,andheswallowedandtookashakybreath.“Stillborn.”
“Rowden.”Shetriedtohughim,butheheldheratadistance.
“I’mcoveredinthis,”hesaid,butevenifhehadn’tbeen,thedividebetweenthemwouldstillhavebeenthere.
Heswipedathiseyes,seemingannoyedbythewetness.“Ican’tgothroughthatagain,”hesaid,hisvoicestrongernow.“Ican’triskit.Thepain.I’dratherdie.”
Modestydidn’tspeak.Shedidn’thavethewords.Therewerenowords.Sheknewthepainofloss,andshecouldn’tprovideanyreassurancethatherfatewouldbeanydifferentthanMary’s.Lifewasuncertain.Childbearingwasdangerous.She’dwonderedwhyhehadn’ttakenanypleasurethosetwotimesthey’dbeenaloneinthecarriage.Itseemedtoher,watchingthemeninthealleysofLondon,thattheyalwaystooktheirpleasure.
Butshe’dthoughtRowdendidnotwanttotakehervirginityorriskgettingherwithchildandbeingforcedtomarryher.Theideaofanotherpregnantwifeprobablyterrifiedhim.Andhowcouldsheaskhimtoignorehisfears?Shecouldn’tdiscountthem.Shecouldn’tpromisehimthingswouldbedifferentwithher.
“Soyousee,Iamacoward,”hesaid.
Shelookedupathim.“You’renotacoward.You’reafraid.Onlyafoolwouldriskpainlikethatagain.Idon’tblameyouforprotectingyourself.”Shegavehimasmileshehopedwouldmakeherlookbraverthanshefelt.Itmusthavefailedbecausehefrownedwithconcern.“Istillloveyou,”shesaid.“Evenifyoucan’tlovemeback.”
Heclosedhiseyes,andsheknewshewashurtinghim.Shedidn’twanttohurthim.Especiallynotnow.“Youhaveafighttopreparefor,”shesaid.“AndIexpecttoseeyouwinthistime.”
“Modesty,Idon’twanttoleaveitlikethis.”
“We’lltalkafteryoubeattheGerman’sbrainsin,”shesaid,makinghervoicelighterthanshefelt.“Rightnowyouhavelemonsandlimestoeat.”
“Don’tremindme.”Hegaveheraghostofasmile,butitwasbetterthannothing.
“We’lltalklater,”shesaid,leadinghimbackintothetent.Sheknewtheywouldnot,butshedidn’twanttoenditthiswayeither.Andhestillhadaformidableopponenttofaceinthearena.
Onceinsidethetent,shefoundMr.Okoro,whoseworriedexpressionimmediatelyfellaway.“Yourfightisnext,”hesaid.
“Lime?”Trogdonoffered.
“I’lljustgobacktomyseat.”ModestynoddedatRowden.“You’dbetterwinthistime.”
“Countonit.”
Shedid.Thatwasallshecouldcountonanymore.
***
MR.STERLINGLOOKEDrelievedtostepawayfromIgorandescortherbacktotheirseats.“Ithoughtyou’deloped,”hetoldher.
Sheshookherhead.“Idon’tthinkMr.Payneisthemarryingsort.”
“You’dbesurprised,”hesaidastheysatagain.“I’veseenmenlesslikelythanhemarry.Itseemstobeanillnessspreadingthroughthecountryside.”
Sheglancedathim.“Youseemimmune.”
“BecausetheonlythingIloveismoney,”hesaid.Shethoughthewasjoking,buthedidn’tsmile.
“YouknowwhatChristsaid,thatit’seasierforacameltopassthroughtheeyeofaneedlethanforarichmantoentertheKingdomofHeaven.”
“Ihaveheardthatsaid.”Hewatchedtheropedoffarenaasthefightersinsidepummeledeachother.“Youknowmysolution?”
“What’sthat?”
“Buildareallybigneedle.”
Shelaughed.“Idon’tthinkthat’sthepointofthesaying.”
“No?Damn.”
“Iwouldn’tconsideryoudamnedyet—”
“DamnbecauseIdidn’twanttoleaveyou,butIhadtoplyIgorwithdrinkstokeephimbusyanddranktoomuchmyself.”
“Isee.Iwillbefineforafewminutes.I’msureIamsafeinthiscrowd.”
“Don’tmove,”hetoldher.“I’llberightback.”
Shewatchedhimmaneuverthroughtheseatsandthecrowdandthendisappearoutthetententrance.Thecrowdquietedslightly,andshecranedhernecktoseetheGermanandRowdenwalkingoutofthebacktent.Modestyclutchedherhandstogethertightly.TheGermanlookedsomuchbiggerthanRowdenwhentheystoodsidebyside.ThatwashardtobelieveasRowdenalwaysseemedsolargeandstrongandpowerful.Forthefirsttime,shebegantoworryaboutRowden’ssafety.Ofcourse,hemadehislivingfightinglargemen,butshehadn’tconsideredwhatthatactuallymeant.Nowsherealizeditmeanthewouldbedodgingpunchesfromtheveritableblondgiant.
Themasterofceremoniesledbothmenintothearena,callingouttheirnamesandaccomplishments.Rowdenlookedaboutthecrowd,andthoughheseemedtobesurveyingthemasakingmighthissubjects,sheknewthemomenthefoundher.
Hiseyessoftened,andhisfacebrokeintoasmile.He’dbeenlookingforher.He’dwantedtoseeher,perhapsneededtoseeher.Modestysmiledbackathim,tryingtolookbraveandasthoughshefeltfarmoreconfidentthanshetrulydid.Heneededhertobelieveinhim.Shecouldseeitinthewayhisgazelockedonhersandheld.
Andshesawsomethingelsetoo.Helovedher.Hemightnotwanttoloveher.Hemightnotacknowledgeitoracceptit,butshesawtheloveinhiseyes.
Itwasundeniable.
Herownheartclenchedinresponseasshestaredbackathim,showinghimshelovedhimtoo.Thenthemomentwasbrokenwhenthemenweredirectedtogototheircorners.Mr.OkoroandTrogdonwerewaitingatRowden’scorner.Trogdonofferedwater,whichRowdenwavedaway,andMr.Okoroseemedtoofferlastminuteadvice.
ThentheumpirescalledforthefighttobeginandtheGermanlumberedintothecenteroftheropedoffareaandRowdenswaggeredtowardhim.Therewasnootherwaytodescribethewayhemoved.Hegaveeveryappearanceofbeingcockyandsurehewouldwintheday.Modestywishedshefeltthesame.
TheGermanthrewthefirstpunch,andshepushedherfistagainsthermouthtokeepfromgasping.RowdenduckedanddancedaroundtheGerman,forcingthelumberingmantoturnandplodafterRowden.Rowdenthrewafewtestjabs,andtheGermaneasilydeflectedallbutone.Thathit,andthoughshehearditland,theGermanseemedunaffected.ShecouldseetheGerman’sstrategyalready.Hewasnotfast,buthedidnotneedtobe.Hewasbigandcouldtakeabeating.Onepunchfromhimwasenoughtoknockoutanopponent.
Rowdenmovedaboutthearenanow,forcingtheGermantocomeafterhim.RowdenbobbedandweavedastheGermanthrewhardpunches,buteventhoughModestyscreamedinsideateverypunch,Rowdenwasfastenoughtoevadethemall.Shesawhisstrategynowaswell.HewouldtiretheGermanoutthenpummelhimuntilhewasdown.ModestyjusthopedRowden’sstrengthwouldnotfalterfirst
TheGermanthrewanotherpunchandthenanother.Rowdenactuallyduckedunderoneofthefighter’sarms,cameupbehindhim,andbootedhimlightlyinthearse.Thecrowdroaredwithlaughter,andRowdengavethemawinningsmile.Modestytriedtosmiletoo,butshejustwantedthefightover.
Sheshiftedforwardassomethingprickedherintheback.Butthefeelingdidn’tdissipate.Beforeshecouldturntoseewhatthebothersomeobjectmightbe,avoicewhisperedinherear.“Don’tsayaword.Standupandwalkoutofhere.Slowly.Drawattentiontoyourself,andI’llgutyou.”
Modestyfroze,allofhermusclestensing.Shelookedtowardthetent’sentrance,butMr.Sterlingwasnotbackyet.Shelookedtowardthearena,butRowdenwasfightingforhislife.Noonewouldnoticeherleave.Noonewouldnoticeifthismanstabbedher.Everyone’sattentionwasonthefight.
Theknifeinherbackprickedharder.“Standup,”themansaid.
Modestystoodandpushedthroughthecrowd.Sheprayedsomeonewouldlookather,noticeher.Shewantedtomeetjustoneperson’seyesandmouththewords,“help.”Butnoonepaidheranyattention.Assoonasshewasoutside,themangrabbedthebackofherneckandpushedhertowardagroupofothermenwhowerewaiting.Twenty
Rowdenwasactuallyenjoyinghimself.Ithadbeenalongtimesincehe’denjoyedafight.MaybeitwasbecausetheGermanwasaworthyopponent.Hewouldn’tbeeasytobeat.Maybeitwasbecauseoftheroarofthecrowdorthepursewaitingforhimifhewon.
ButmostlyitwasbecauseModestyBrownwasinthecrowdwatchinghim.He’dlookedforherassoonashe’dsteppedintotheexhibitionarea.Heglancedaboutforthatbeautifulredhairandthatgoldgown.Ithadn’ttakenlongtofindher.Shewaswatchinghim,herstunningeyesfixedonhisface.Herlipscurvedinasmile,buthesawthewaytheytrembled.Shewasworriedforhim,andhegaveheracockysmiletoletherknowtherewasnothingtoworryabout.HeintendedtobeattheGermanheartily.Itwouldn’tbeaquickfight.He’dhavetowearhisopponentdown,buthecoulddoit.
Andthenhe’dbethroughwiththisbusiness,andhe’d…he’dwhat?Hewantedtogotoher,tokissher,holdher,tellherwhatitmeanttohimtohaveherthereforhim.Buthecouldn’tdothat.He’dtoldhergood-byebeforethematchtonight,andthatwastherightdecision.
Inthatmoment,whenshewassmilingathimwithhopeandloveinherface,itdidn’tfeelliketherightdecision.Heneededherthere.Heneededheralways.
Rowdenhadgonetohiscorner,andChibalehadtoldhimtofocus.RowdenhadtakenthoughtsofModestyandputtheminanotherroominhismind,closingthedoor.He’dopenitlater.He’dfigureoutwhattodowithhischurningemotionslater.Itwasn’thardtoconcentrateonthefight.WhenamanliketheGermanthrewpunchesathim,itgotRowden’sattention.Buthewasawarehewasputtingonashowofsortstoo.Themorethecrowdenjoyedthemselves,themoremoneytheywouldwager.SohedodgedtheGermanandduckedbehindhim,givinghimaplayfulkickinthearse.Itwasn’tillegal—notmuchwasinthesefights—butitdidlittleexceptangertheGerman.
AngerworkedinRowden’sfavor,though.TheGermanthrewharderpunchesandmoreofthem,andRowdenhadtoworkhardertoavoidthem.Still,ifhehadtoguess,he’dsaytheGermanwasbreathingharderthanheattheendofthefirstroundwhenthetwomenwenttotheircornersandChibalehandedRowdentheflaskofwater.
“Where’sTrogdon?”heasked,wipinghismouth.Hecouldhaveusedakneetositonforamoment.Hewouldhappilyforegocitrusfruitforthenextfiveyears.
Chibalelookeduncomfortable,whichwasstrange.
“What’swrong?”Rowdenasked.
“Nothing.Trogdonhadtousetheprivy.”
“Inthemiddleofmyfight?”Thiswasit.Thisreallywasthelaststraw.Trogdonhadfluffforbrains,butRowdencouldforgivethatbecausehewasalwaystherewhenRowdenneededhim.Butifhecouldn’tevencountonthemanservantatatimelikethis,theman’semploymentwasatanend.“Youcantellhim,ifhereturns,he’dbetterlookforanotherposition,”Rowdensaid.
Chibalewavedahand.“Let’snotworryaboutthatnow.Youhaveafighttowin.”
“Right.”Rowdensquaredhisshouldersandmovedhisneckabouttoloosenit.
“Gooutthereandhithimhard,”Chibalesaid.“Nothingtoworryabout.SterlingmustbewithMissBrown.”
TheumpiresshoutedandRowdenmovedbackintothecenterofthearena.Heduckedandswung,makingcontactwiththeGermanandforthefirsttime,hearinghimgrunt.Butsomethingniggledathisbrain.ChibalehadsaidNothingtoworryabout.Rowdenhadtakenittomeanthatheneedn’tworryhewouldwinthefight.ButthenwhyhadChibaleadded,SterlingmustbewithMissBrown?
WhydiditseemlikeChibalewasreassuringhimthatAidanwaswithModesty?Rowdenhitagain,punchingtheGermanintheface.Thatwasthetimeheshouldhavestruckagain,slammingthemaninthechestwhenhisheadwasthrownbackandhewasunprotected,butRowdenfrozeinstead.
AidanSterlinghadpromisedtostaywithModestyandneverletheroutofhissight.ItwastheonlyreasonRowdenhadagreedtolethercometothemillbecausehe’dknownNotleywouldbetherelookingforawaytostrikebackatRowden.
Rowden’sfirstimpulsewastolookforModestyinthecrowd,findher,andreassurehimselfshewassafe.Butthatimpulsewouldgethimknockedout,andhe’dbenogoodtoanyone.TheGermanwasangrynowandfightingback.He’drecoveredandwasadvancingonRowden,hisfacebloodyandsnarling.Rowdenhadn’tgivenhimselfasmuchroomashewouldhavelikedtomaneuversohehadlittlechoicebuttofight,ratherthanduckorfeint.Andsohefought.HetookaglancingpunchthatlefthisearringinganddeliveredaharddarttotheGerman’sjaw.TheGermanstumbledbackandwenttohisknees.Insteadoffollowingup,asChibaleandthecrowdurged,Rowdensteppedbackandlookedupintothecrowd.
Modestywasnotinherseat.
Aidanwasnotinhisseat.
Theumpirescalledforcorners,andRowdenmarchedtohis.“Whatthedevilishappening?”hedemanded,pushingtheofferedwateraway.“WhereisModesty?”
“Trogdonwenttofindher,”Chibalesaid.
“Trogdon?Trogdon?Themancan’tevenfindanorange.I’mgoing.”
Chibalegrabbedhimaroundtheshouldersandmadeitseemasthoughhewereimpartingsomeimportantinformation.“Halfofthemeninthistenthavemoneyonyou.Youthinkthey’llletyouleave?Youhavetofinishthisfightorbetornapart.”
“Modesty—”
“TrogdonislookingforherandSterling.It’sthebestIcandoatthemoment.I’msureshe’swithSterling.”
Theumpirescalledforthefighttobegin,butRowdendidn’tmove.“Whendidyounoticehermissing?”
“Ididn’t.Trogdondid.Hesaidshewasleaving,andhewasgoingafterher.”Chibaletookastepback.“Bloodyhell.He’scoming.”
Rowdenlookedjustintimetoduckandavoidthepunch.Itwasstrongenoughthathefeltthebreezewhipoverhishead.Sincehisheadwasdownanyway,heplowedintotheGerman’ssolidchest,pushinghimbackandthrustinghimagainsttheropesontheothersideofthearena.
Thecrowdscreamedforblood.Rowdenwasreadytogiveit.Thisfightwasover,andhejustneededtolandthedeathblow.
***
MODESTY’SMINDRACED.Sheneededtogetbacktothetent,backtothemill.TheonethingshehadlearnedinallheryearspreachingintherookeriesofLondonwasnevertoallowanyonetoseparateherfromthecrowd.Themanwiththeknifehadjustdonethat,andnowhepushedherintoagroupofthreeothermen.Themenlaughedasshestumbled.
“IsthisPayne’swoman?”oneofthemasked.
“That’sright.Gethertothewagon,”themanwiththeknifesaid.
Modestybackedup.“I’mreturningtothetent.Iwon’tgowithyou.”
“Oh,yesyouwill.”Hebrandishedtheknife.“Onewayoranother.”
Withoutwarning,sheturnedandran,butsheonlymadeitafewfeetbeforeshewascaughtandyankedbackbythearm.Themenwereroughernowastheypushedherfurtherawayfromthetent.Oneofthemclosedhishandoverhermouthtokeepherfromcallingout—notthatanyonewouldhaveheardher.Thecrowdwatchingthefightwasscreamingandchanting.ShehopedRowdenwaswinning
Shecouldimaginehissmilewhenhewon.He’dlookforher,andshewouldn’tbethere.Shestruggled,tryingtoslowdownthemendraggingher.“Whereareyoutakingme?”sheaskedwhenhermouthslippedfreeoftheman’shold.Shecouldseetheywereheadingfortheareaofthefieldwhereconveyanceshadbeenleft.Perhapsshe’dbeabletocryouttoacoachmanforhelp.
“SomewhereTheRoyalPayneinmearsewillneverfindyou.”
“Why?”
“Becausehetooksomethingofmine.”
Modestydidn’thaveachancetoaskwhatthatmightbebeforethehandclampedoverhermouthagain.Shetriedtostruggle,butoneofthemenpunchedherlightlyinthebellyandshedoubledover.Itmightnothavebeenhard,butitwasenoughtostartlethebreathfromherlungs.Shewasbendingovertoprotectherbodyfromfurtherharmwhensheheardafamiliarvoice.
“Stoprightthere,gentlemen.”
Modestylookedup,thinkingitmustbeMr.Sterling.Butitwasn’tSterlingstandinginfrontofthemen,blockingtheirway.Itwas…Trogdon?
“Moveaside,”themanwiththeknifesaid.“Thisdoesn’tconcernyou.”
“ItconcernsMr.Payne,”Trogdonsaid,“andsoitconcernsme.Releasethelady,Mr.Green.Putthatknifeaway,Mr.Notley.”
Noonemoved.ModestyglancedfromthemancalledGreentotheleader,Notley.Theyseemeduncertainwhattodo,anduncertaintyworkedinherfavor.Withamightytug,shebrokefreeofGreenandplungedtowardTrogdon.Oneoftheothermencaughther,andshefoughtasthoughherlifedependedonit.
Herlifeprobablydiddependonit.
Shekickedandscratchedandbit,andthemanreleasedher.Trogdonswoopedin,caughtherarmandpushedheraheadofhim.“Run!”heinstructed.
Shetried,butherlegsweretangledinherskirts,andshetrippedandfell.Shescrambledtoherknees,hereyesclosedasshewaitedfortheroughhandstograspheragain,butinsteadsheheardaloudthump
“Ow!Hey!”oneofthemencalled.
Trogdonmovedbesideherandpulledhertoherfeet.Andthenhehandedheranorange.Shestaredatitandthenhim.Hewasholdingasackofthem,andasshewatched,hepulledoneoutandlobbeditatoneofthemen.Hehadexcellentaimashehitthefellowonthecenteroftheforehead,sendinghimreelingback.
“Throwit!”Trogdonordered,stillbackingup.Modestythrew.Heraimwasnotasgood,andshemissed.
“Goodtry,miss,”Trogdonsaid.“Couldyouscreamforhelp,doyouthink?”
Thatshecoulddo.Shescreamedasloudlyasshecould,whileTrogdonthrewanotherorange,hittingNotleyinthecenterofthechest.Theorangeexploded,andNotleyreeledback,droppingtheknife.Buthewasn’tincapacitated.Itwouldtakemorethancitrusfruittoaccomplishthat.Helookedangrynowashelungedforthem.
***
ROWDENWASAWAREHEwasactingagainstallhistraining.Hepunchedandpummeledandworehimselfoutinanall-outoffensiveagainsttheGerman.Thecrowdwassoloudhecouldn’teventhink.Outofthecornerofhiseye,hecouldseeChibaleyelling,probablytellinghimtofocusandrememberhistraining.
ButRowdendidn’thavetimetoweartheGermanout.HeneededtoknockhimoutandfindModesty.ButtheGerman,who’dseemedinitiallytakenoffguardatRowden’sattack,recoveredandpunchedback.Rowdengruntedasonepunchlandedonhisshoulder.Painexploded,andhegrittedhisteethandfoughttostayonhisfeet.TheGermanpunchedagain,butRowdenduckedandlaunchedhisownoffensiveintotheotherman’sbreadbox.Hewasoutofbreathanddizzybythetimeheshuffledaway,andtheGermanwasstillonhisfeet,andstilllumberingtowardhim.
Forthesecondtimethatnight,Rowdenwantedtorun.Hewantedawayfromthisfight,awayfromthesepeople.HeneededtofindModesty.ButheknewChibalewasright.Thecrowdwouldn’tlethimleaveuntiloneofthemeninthearenalayunconscious.
Rowdenthrewanotherpunch,anditlandedineffectuallyofftheGerman’stemple.Andstilltheblondmancameforhim.RowdenmovedaroundsohewasfacingthesidewhereModestyandAidanhadbeensitting.WherethedevilwasAidan?Rowden’sonlyconsolationwasthatAidanwaswithModesty.Aidanhadbeenathiefwho’dlivedsomeofhislifeonthestreets.HecouldtakecareofhimselfandModesty.
Heduckedanotherpunchthenjoltedoutofshock.HeduckedundertheGerman’sarmandrantotheothersideoftheropes.Aidanhadjuststumbledintothetent,histemplebleeding.“Whereisshe?”heyelled.ButAidancouldn’thearhimoverthedozensofmenalreadyshouting.
Toolate,Rowdenrealizedtheyshoutedawarningathim.TheGermanlandedapunchinhisside,andRowdencrumpledbutstayedonhisfeet.Holdingontotheropesforsupport,hemanagedtorighthimselfjustastheGermanstruckagain.Rowdenmanagedtoavoidtheworstofit,buttheblowglancedoffhisjawandthepainwaslikeahotironplacedonhisskin.Hetastedblood,spat,andlookeduptoseetheGermancomingforhimagain.
“Fuck,”hesaidthroughbloodandspittle.Hewasabouttolose.
***
NOTLEYWASSTILLCOMINGforthem,evenasTrogdonthrewanotherorange.ThisonehitNotley’sshoulderandbarelyslowedhimdown.Helookedangry.Veryangry.
“Uhoh,”Trogdonsaid.
Modestyglancedathim.“What’suhoh?”
“Nomoreoranges.”Hegraspedherwrist.“Nowwerun.”
Hestartedaway,andModestytriedtokeepup.Foralazyman,hewasremarkablyfast.HepulledherwithhimastheyfinallyreachedthecarriagesandwagonstheFancyhadtakentothemill.Trogdondartedbetweenthemandpulledheralong,slowingnowtolistenforpursuit.
“They’recoming,”Modestywhispered.
“Here.”Trogdonpulledherclosetoalargecarriagewheelandscrambledunderneath.“Comeon!”hehissed.
ModestysilentlyapologizedtoMadameRenauldasshefollowed.Underthecarriage,herelbowssinkinginmud,sheglancedatTrogdon.Hehadasmearofmudonhisface,buthedidn’tlookfrightened.“Thereyouare.SafeastheBankofEngland,”hesaid.
Modestywouldhavelikedabitmoresecurity.“Wherearethecoachmenandthegrooms?”
Hejerkedhisheadtowardtheglowoffires,justnowlightingupthedarkeningeveningsky.“Playingdiceorcards,”hewhispered.“Toofarawaytohearus.”
“Wherearethey?”oneofNotley’smenasked,andModestytensed.Trogdonputafingertohislips,asthoughsheneededtobereminded.
“They’reheresomewhere,”Notleysaid.“Youtakethatside,andI’lltakethisone.Lookunderthevehiclestoo.”
Modestypressedherlipstogetherandheldherbreathasapairofbootscameintoview.
***
ROWDENDUCKEDJUSTintimetoavoidthedart.HewasawarehewasretreatingandduckingandbasicallyusingnothingMostynorChibaleorevenhisownexperiencehadtaughthim.
He’dplannedtoweartheGermandownandthenknockhimout.Notimeforthatnow.Modestyneededhim.Heduckedagainandrantothefarcornerofthearea,evenastheboosandjeersofthecrowdfollowedhim.
TheGermanlurchedtowardhim,andRowdenusedthoseextrasecondstochannelallofhisangerandfearandpanicintoatight,blackball.Hecouldimagineitswirlingtogetherashecompresseditandpusheditoutandintohishands,hisarms,hismuscles.
Hispainwasinthatswirlingsphere.ThepainoflosingMaryandnowthefearoflosingModesty.HewouldnotloseModesty.HewouldnotloseModesty.
ThesphereseemedtogrowastheGermancamecloser,andwitharoar,Rowdenlaunchedhimself.TheGermanpausedforjustamoment,hisbrowloweredinconfusion,andRowdenstruck,landingahardpunchtohisfaceandthenanother
Hetriedtopunchagain,buthewasdrainedofstrength.
Thiswasitthen.He’dlost.
ExceptthattheGermandidn’tcomeforhim.TheGermanveryslowlyfellbackanddown,makingthefloorbounceashefellunconscious.
Rowdendidn’tevenwaitforthecount.Hestaggeredtotheropesandclimbedout.Chibalewasathisside,yellingforthecrowdtomove,topart.Themendidso,lookingfromRowdentothedownedGermaninconfusion.
Aidanmethimatthetent’sexit.“ItwasNotley,”hesaid,bloodcoveringhalfhisface.“Heambushedme.IthinkhehasMissBrown.”
***
THEBOOTSMOVEDON,butjustasModestystartedtobreatheagain,theypaused.ThenahandcameintoviewandthenkneesandfinallythefaceofNotley.“Foundyou,”hesaid.
TrogdonthrewaclumpofmudatNotleyandscrambledouttheback.Modestyfollowed,butherskirtswereheavynow,andNotleycaughtherarm.
“Ihavethem!”hecalled.Modestyheardthesoundoffootstepscoming.TrogdonranatNotleyandtriedtofreeModesty,butNotleyonlyheldontighter.Thetug-of-waronherarmlefthercryingoutinpain.GreenandanothermanranaroundawagonandtackledTrogdon,sendinghimbackdownintothemud.ModestytriedtowrestfreeofNotley’shold,andeventhoughhersleeveripped,Notleyheldontoher.
“Letmego!”sheyelled.“Help!”
“Modesty!”Thevoicewasfaraway,butsheknewit.
“Rowden!”
NotleycursedandreleasedhersosuddenlyshefelltoherkneesbesideTrogdon.ThemenbeatinghimlookedupatNotley’sexpletiveandallthreeofthemtriedtoplaceRowden’svoice.
“Rowden!I’mhere!”shecalled.
“Thisway,”Notleyyelled.
“No,thisway!”Greensaid.Intheend,itdidn’tmatterbecauseRowdencamearoundonecornerofacoachandMr.OkoroandMr.Sterlingcamearoundtheother.RowdengrabbedNotley,shovedhimtohiskneesasthoughhewereadoll,andlookedabout.
“Ihaveher,sir,”Trogdonsaid,wavingfromthemud.“Sheissafe.”
Rowden’sgreengazefoundhers,andshegavehimalittlewave.HestaredatherthenTrogdon.Finally,helookedaway.“Chibale,fetchamagistrate.Imusthaveseenatleastthreewatchingthemill.”
“I’llberightback.”Mr.Okorotookoff,whileMr.SterlingshookhisheadatNotley’stwoaccomplices.
“Stayrightthere,”hesaid,“OrI’llwanttoknowwhichoneofyoudidthistomeandrepayyoutwofold.”
Modestystoodandtriedtoswipemudoffherdress.ShereacheddowntohelpTrogdonup,andtheybothwenttostandbesideRowden,whowasstillholdingNotleyinapainfulgripbetweenhisneckandshoulder.
“Whatthedevilhappened?”Rowdenasked.
Modestycouldfeeltheurgetolaugh,andsheknewitwasshockandhysteria.Shepusheditdownandlookedatthemanservant.“Trogdonsavedme.”
“Tellmethetruth,”Rowdensaid.
“Hesavedme!”shesaid,laughing.Shehadtopressahandtohermouthtokeepthelaughfromturningintotears.Thedirtonherskinbroughtherbacktoreality.“Hethreworangesatthemandstoppedthemfromtakingme.”
RowdenlookedatMr.Sterling.“We’dbetterfetchadoctor.”
“I’mfine,”shesaid.“Hereallydidthroworanges.See?”ShepointedtotheorangestainonNotley’sshirt.Itwasdifficulttoseeasnightwasfalling.ThenshelookedatTrogdon.“Wheredidyougetoranges?Ithoughtyoucouldn’tfindany.”
TrogdongaveherasheepishlookthenglancedatRowden,wholookedbackathimexpectantly.“Mr.Paynedoesn’tcarefororanges.IpurchasedthemincaseIcouldn’tfindlemonsandlimes.”
“What?”Rowdenasked,soundingdumbstruck.InthedistanceModestycouldhearvoicesheadingtowardthem.ThankGodthemagistratewasalmostthere.Shedidn’tthinkherwobblylegswouldholdhermuchlonger.
“IgrabbedthebagwhenIsawMissBrownleavethetentwiththatone.”HepointedtoNotley.“IhadafeelingImightneedthem.”
“Thatyoumightneedoranges?”Rowdendemanded.
Trogdongaveasmallshrug.“Youdoseemtoalwaysneedthem,sir.Theymustbegoodforsomething.”
Themagistrateandagroupofmenconvergedontheparty,andModestywaspushedoutoftheway.Vaguely,sheheardNotleyyellingandMr.Sterlingarguing,andshethoughtshemightjustsitdownonthegroundforamomentandcatchherbreath.
Rowdencaughther,pickingherupasthoughshewereachildandcradlingherinhisarms.“Lookslikeyou’vespentenoughtimeinthemud.Let’sgobacktoBattle’sPeak.”
Shegavehimaweaksmile.Hewasstillbaretothewaist,andshelikedbeingpressedagainsthischest,thoughshewasprobablysmearingmudalloverhim.“Didyouwin?”sheasked.
Helookeddownather,clearlyconfused.Andthenhisfeaturescleared.“Ah.Themill.Yes,Iwon.”
“Oh,good.Ididn’twanttobethereasonhebeatyouasecondtime.”
Rowdenpulledhercloser.“I’llloseahundredmillsifitmeansIcanholdyou,”hesaid,andhecarriedhertoSterling’scoach.Andthen,afterwhatseemedlikehoursandathousandquestions,thefiveofthem—Rowden,Modesty,Mr.Okoro,Mr.Sterling,andevenTrogdon—lefttheexhibitiongroundsbehind.Twenty-One
Rowdenwaiteduntilthehousewasquietbeforesteppingoutofhisroomandintothelongshadowsofthecorridor.HeknewwhereModesty’sroomwas.He’dloiteredinthatwingofthehouseonthepretenseofmakingcertainshewaswellandwatchedapairoffootmendeliveratubtoherchamberearliertonight.LadyFlorentiahadshooedhimawaytotakehisownbath.Thatwashoursago,andnowhecarriedalampandwalkedacrossthegallerytotheoppositewing.Hechancedtolookdownthewidestaircaseashepassedandstopped.
“Howlonghaveyoubeensittingthere?”heaskedLordNicholas,whowassittingwithonelegextendedabouthalfwayupthegrandstaircase.
LordNicholaslookedupathimfromunderamopofgoldenhairthathadfallenoverhisforehead.“Notlong.”
“I’daskifyouwantmyhelp,butIassumeyou’reattemptingthestairsinthemiddleofthenightpreciselybecauseyoudon’twanthelp.”
LordNicholasrubbedhisoutstretchedlegabsently.“Iusedtorunupanddownthesestairsadozentimesaday.Nowittakesmeahalfhourjusttohaulmyselfup.”
“Whydoitthen?”Rowdenasked.“Youhavemoreroomsthanyouneedinthisplace.Makeoneoftheroomsdownstairsyourchamber.”
Nicholasshookhishead.“Thenmylegswin.”
“Theywerecrushedunderahorse,Nick.Thatdoesn’tmakethemtheenemy.”
Nicholaswavedahand.“Don’ttrythatwithme.AllthatdamnlogicandreasonmightworkwithNash—”
“Actually—”
“Butit’snothingIhaven’ttoldmyself.”
Rowdensighed.“YoumighthavenoticedI’mattemptingamidnightrendezvous.Asstimulatingasthisconversationmightbe,Ihadotherideasinmind.”
“Yourdestinationisn’tmysister’schamber,isit?”
“Absolutelynot.”
“Fine.Beforeyoudefilemyhouseguest,helpmeupthesestairs.ItwillberecompenseforallthehorsesIstoleforyou.”
Rowdensetthelamponthewidebanisterandstarteddownthesteps.“Ineveraskedyoutostealahorse.ThatwasNeil.”
Nicholashadrisentohisfeet,andhedrapedanarmoverRowden’sshoulders,whichweresorefromthemillearlierthatnight,buthedidn’tcomplain.
“Younevercomplainedaboutridinginsteadofwalking,”Nicholassaid,hisvoicebreathlessasheusedonehandtosteadyhimselfandRowdenhauledhimupthestairs.
“Florentiasaysyoudon’trideanymore.”
“Shetalkstoomuch.”
Theyreachedthetopofthestairs,andNicholasunhookedacanehe’ddrapedoveronearm.Heleanedonit,breathingheavily.“Ihaveitfromhere.”
“Icantakeyoutoyourroom,”Rowdenoffered.
“Youhavedebaucherytoattendto.”Hewavedahand.“Icanmakeit.Goodnight.”
“Ihopeso,”Rowdensaid,pickingupthelamp.HelefthisfriendtoshufflealongthegalleryandtriedtoignorethewayhisheartbeatharderandfasterthecloserhecametoModesty’sroom.Whatifshewasasleep?Whatifshetoldhimtogobacktobed?Whatifshemadehimwaituntiltheywereformallywed?Whatifshedidn’twanttowed?
Shutup,man,hetoldhimselfandstoppedinfrontofherdoor.Helookedleftandrighttomakesurenooneelsewasupandabout,thentappedquietlyonherdoor.HeheldhisbreathforwhatseemedtenminutesbeforethedooropenedandModesty,dressedinawhitenightgownwithherdamphairabouthershoulders,stoodbeforehim.
Helookeddownather.Sheseemedsmallerthanherememberedandyounger.And,withherhairdownandthewhitematerialaroundher,shelookedsofterandmoreinviting.
“What’swrong?”sheasked,probablybecausehewasstandingtherestaringather.“Didthemagistrate—”
“No.”HedidnotwantherthinkingaboutNotleyorthemagistrateortheawfuleventsoftheevening.Notleywasincustody,aswerehismen,andshewassafe.“Nothingiswrong.Iwasjustthinkinghowbeautifulyoulook.”
Colorrosetohercheeks.“Andyoulookbatteredandbruised.Yourpoorchin.”ShereachedoutandranafingeroverthedarkeningbruisetheGermanhadgivenhim.Rowdenfeltluckyhehadn’tlostanyteeth.Heturnedhisheadandkissedherfingers.
“MayIcomein?”
Hergazeflewtohis,andhecouldseethequestioninhereyes.She’daskedhimtocometoherearlierthatnight,rightbeforehe’dtoldherhecouldneverloveher.Shewaswonderingifthathadchanged.Butshedidn’task,merelysteppedbacksohecouldenter.Heclosedthedoorbehindhimandturnedthekey.Whenheturnedbacktoher,shewrappedherarmsabouthim,reachinguptokisshim.
Hekissedherback,tryingtokeephisbalanceandsetthelampdownsafely.Hermouthwaswarmandeagerandwhenhewasabletodrawabreath,hesaid,“Modesty,Ineedtotellyousomething.”
“Iknowyoudon’tloveme,”shesaid.“Iknowlyingwithyouisabadidea,butIwantyouanyway.”Shereachedfortheribbonattheneckofhernightgown,andherealizedshewasabouttotugit.Thegarmentwouldsliderighttoherfeetifshedidthat.
“No!”hesaid,moreloudlythanhewanted.“Imean,Iwantyoutotakethatoff.God,Iwantyoutotakethatoff.”
“Noneedforblasphemy,”shesaid.
Healmostlaughed.“JustwaituntilIsaywhatIcametosay.IfIdon’tsayitwhileyou’redressed,it’llbehoursbeforeIhaveenoughsenseleftinmybraintosayit.”
“Ifyoumakemewaittoolong,”shesaid,“Iwilllosemynerve.”
“Givemethreeminutestouchingyou,andyouwon’tbethinkingaboutyournerves,”hepromised.
“Whendoesthatthreeminutesstart?”sheaskedbreathlessly.
“AssoonasIdothis.”Hesanktooneknee,hislegsprotestingsincetheyweresoreandtightfromthefightearlier.Buthe’dforgetabouthisstiffmusclessoonenough.Ithadbeenalongtimesincehe’dplayedthegentleman,buthestillknewhowtodoit.“MissBrown,forgivethesuddennessofthisproposal,butitcannothaveescapedyournoticethatmyfeelingsforyouhavedeepenedandripenedintoafeelingthatIcanonlydescribeaslove.Wouldyoudomethehonorofbecomingmywife?”
Shestaredathim,andhewentoverthewordsinhismindagain.He’dsaidthemcorrectly,hadn’the?Thatwasthewaytopropose.
“Youloveme?”sheasked.
“That’swhatIsaid.”
“Yousaidsomethingaboutripening,andIwasn’tcertainifyoumeantmeorfruit.”
He’ddonethisallwrongbecausehewasacoward,asshe’dclaimedearlier.He’dthoughtbyrelyingonformalityhecouldavoidtheemotionofthemoment.
ButModestywasobviouslyhavingnoneofthat,andbullyforher.Hetookherhand.“Iloveyou,”hesaidsimply.“Isthatclearenough?”
“Butyousaidearlier—”
“EarlierIwasafool.IknewIwasbeingafooleventhen.IknewIdidn’tmeanitbecauseeventhoughIdidn’twanttofallinlovewithyou,Ialreadyhad.Ialreadyhave.”
“Butyousaidyoucouldn’tbeartofeelthatpainifyoulovedandlostagain.”
Hishandonherstightened.“IhadatasteofthatpaintonightwhenyouweremissingandwhenIfoundyouwithNotley.AndyouknowwhatIrealized?”
“YoushouldgiveMr.Trogdonaraise?”
Hegrinned.“Besidesthat.”
“What?”Shesteppedcloser,andhecaughtthescentoflemonsthatmusthavescentedthesoapshe’dused.
“ThatIdon’twanttolivewithoutyou.Thatnothavingyouisasbadashavingyouandlosingyou.”
“Youwon’tloseme.”
“Therearenoguaranteesofthat.”
“Agreed.ButIamherenow,andsoareyou.Wehaverightnow.”Shereachedforthatribbonagain,anditpainedhimtoputhishandoverhers,stoppingher.
“Youdidn’tanswermyquestion,andIdon’twanttotakeyoutobeduntilyoudo.”
Sheputherhandsoneithersideofhisfaceandlookedathimwithsomuchloveitmadehisheartache.“Iwillhaveyouforahusband,RowdenPayne.”Shesteppedback,justoutofreach,andgraspedthatflimsywhiteribbon.“I.”Shetuggedonesideloose.“Will.”Shetuggedtheothersideloose.“Marry.”Sheletthegarmentslipoffhershoulders.“You.”Thenightgownsliddownherbody,leavinghernakedandgoldeninthelamplight.
Rowdendidn’tbreatheforseveralheartbeats.Shewasbeautifulwithhercurvesandheranglesandthoselovelybreastswiththerosytips.Atriangleofauburnhairinvitedhimatthejunctureofherthighs,andhewenttoherandsanktohisknees.Hepressedakisstoherbelly,andsheinhaledsharply.Hishandsskatedupthebacksofherthighs,pressingintoherroundbottomthenoverherhipsandupherribstocupthoseheavybreasts.
Hewantedtosinkintothatsoftbody,toexploreeveryinchofit.Andheknewjustwheretostart.“Lieonthebed,”hesaid,standingandremovinghiscoat.
Shegavehimanervouslook,andhewantedtokickhimselfforforgettingthiswasherfirsttime.Hetookherhandandledhertothebed,thensatontheedgeandremovedhisboots.“Haveyoueverseenanakedman?”heasked.
“Inamuseum.Andwell,youarealmostnakedwhenyoufight.
Heyankedhisshirtoverhishead.“Thenthismuchnuditydoesn’tbotheryou.”
“Onthecontrary.”Shereachedoverandranahandacrosshisshouldersanddownhischest.“Ihavebeenwantingtodothatallnight.”
“Usually,Iwouldletyouhaveyourway—ladiesfirstandallthat—butIdon’ttrustmyselftodothisrightifIletyouhaveyourway.”
“There’sarightwaytodothis?”sheasked,lookingabitworried.
Heliftedherontothebed,restingherheadonthepillowthenlookingdownather.Hischestwaspressedagainstherside,andherskinwassoftandwarm.“Notarightway,”hemurmured,droppingkissesoverherface.“ButIwantyoutohaveasmuchpleasureasIdo.”
Shewriggledagainsthim,obviouslyanticipatingthepleasureshealreadyknewhecouldgiveher.Butinsteadofslidinghisfingersbetweenherlegs,herolledoverontopofherandkissedher,slowlymakinghiswaydownherbody
Hepressedteasingkissesbehindherear;long,luxuriouskissesonherlips;anddelicatekissesonherneck.Heworkedhiswaydown,tracingthecurveofherbreastwithhistongueandthensuckinglightlyonherdistendednipples.Shearchedherback,andhesuckedharder,usingthedistractiontowedgeakneebetweenherlegsandopenthem.Shestiffenedslightly,butthenheslidhistonguebetweenherbreastsanddowntohernavel,andshewasgaspingforairandtrembling.Hepressedhiskneeupwardslightly,intothewarmheatofhersex.
Shemoanedandmovedagainsthim,evenashesliddownfurthertopresskissesonherhipboneandthenthatsofthairbetweenherlegs.Heopenedherlegsfurther,slidinghismouthdowntolickbetweenherlegs.Shegaspedinshockandsat,staringathimasthoughheweremad.
“NotinSongofSolomon?”heasked
“No!”
Hisfingerstrailedlazilyupanddowntheskinofherinnerthigh.“Solomonhadhowmanywives?Ten?Twenty?”
“Sevenhundred,”shesaid,hervoicebreakingashisfingersmovedupward
“Thenhesurelyknewsomethingaboutcunnilingus,”hesaid.“Whataretheverses?”He’dneverthoughthe’dbequotingscriptureinbed,butallthoseyearsofbeingforcedtoreadtheBiblewerefinallyprovinguseful.“Iremember.Letmybelovedcomeintohisgarden,andeathispleasantfruits.”Hereyeswereshiningnow,herbreastsrisingandfallingwithheat.“Letmetasteyou.Onewordfromyou,andI’llstop.”Heloweredhisheadagain,kissingherouterlipsthenpartingthemtosweephistonguealongheruntilhereachedthesmallpinkbudhiddeninherfolds.
Shefellback,herlegstrembling,herbreathscominginfastpantsnow.Hespreadherlegswider,andshedidn’tprotest,openingforhim,asheteasedherwithhistongue.Herhandsfistedonthebedclothesandshebegantomoanfaster.Histonguemovedfasterasherhipsbegantowrithe.“Please,”shebegged.“Yes,ohyes.”
Hecouldhavesloweddown,takenhistime.Ithadbeenalongtimesincehe’ddonethis,andhe’dforgottenhowmuchhelikedit.Buttherewouldbetimetoteaseandtormentherlater,timetodrawoutherpleasureuntilshewaswildwithneed.Fornow,hepressedhistonguetoheruntilhefeltthewayherbodytensedandlifted,andshecriedoutwithrelease.
***
MODESTYHADTHOUGHTsheknewpleasure.Rowdenhadtouchedherinthecoach,bringinghertoclimaxtwicebefore.Butthatwasnothingtothepleasurehegavehernow,nothingtolookingdownandseeinghisdarkheadburiedbetweenherlegsashistongueflickedwickedlyoverher…fruit.
Thistimewhensheclimaxed,shefeltlikeherentirebodywouldbreakintoathousandpieces.Everysingleounceofherwasthrummingwithgloriousrelease.Butshedidn’tshatter,sheheldtogether,andcamebackdownandintohisarms.Hislarge,solidbodywasontopofhers,andhewaskissingherbellyandherbreasts,thenherneckandherlips.Modestydugherhandsintohishair,temperingherownkissesbecausesheknewhisfacewasbruised.
“Shouldwewait?”heasked,hisvoicelowandbreathless.
“Wait?”Shecouldbarelyunderstandhim,hermindwasfuzzywithpleasure
“Waittoconsummatethemarriageuntilweactuallysaythevows.I’llwaitifyouwant.”
Shepulledbackandlookedhimfullintheface.“Idon’twanttowait.Iloveyou.”
Hisfacesoftened,anddespitethecutsandmottledbruises,helookedalmostsweet.“Iloveyou.Idon’tknowwhyIfoughtit.”
Shegingerlytouchedthebruisebyhiseye.“You’reafighter.It’swhatyoudo.”
“Notanymore.”
Beforeshecouldaskwhathemeant,hewaskissingheragain,hisbodypressingagainstherswithadeliciousheaviness.Sheranherhandsupanddownhismuscledback,andthenfoundameasureofbraveryandcuppedhisbuttocks.“Shouldn’tyouremovethebreeches?”sheasked.
“Definitely.”Inafewmovements,hewasasnakedasshe,hisbodywarmandhardashepressedagainsther.Nowwhensheranherhandsdownthelengthofhim,allshefeltwassinewandmuscleandskin.
Hewastouchingheraswell,hishandmovingbetweenherlegstostrokeher.Shedidn’tthinkshecouldfeelpleasureagain,butherbodyrespondedandherbreathcaughtinherthroat.
“Idon’twanttohurtyou,”hesaid.“Butyouhavetorelaxandtrustme.Doyoutrustme?”
“I’vealwaystrustedyou.”Itwastrue.Whenherfatherhaddisappeared,Rowdenwastheoneshe’dgonetoforhelp.Somehowshe’dalwaysknownshecouldcountonhim.
Thepressurebetweenherlegsgrewmoreinsistentasheenteredher,butherpleasuregrewaswellashecontinuedtokissandstrokeher.Shepulledhimclose,wantingthisjoining,wantingtobeonewithhimnowandforever.Asherpleasuremountedsodidtheinsistentpressure.Itwasnotunwelcome,justnovel.Andwhenhefinallybroughthertoclimax,therewaspainwiththepleasure,butthepainwasnotsogreatthatshecouldn’twatchhisfaceashefoundhisownpleasure.Hewouldhavethoughtherdaft,butshethoughthimbeautifulinthatmoment.
Afterward,hepulledherclose,kissingher,whisperinghowmuchhelovedher,howhedidnotwanttowaittomarryher.Shewasalmostasleepwhenhesaid,“I’llgoseeyourfathertomorrow.”
Modesty’seyesopenedandshesat.“What?”
“Toaskhispermissiontomarryyou.”
Sheshookherhead.“Hewon’tgiveit,andI’mofage.Idon’tneedhispermission.”
Heliftedhimselfontohiselbowandlookedupather.“Youdon’twanthisblessing?”
“Idon’twantanythingfromhim.”
Helaidbackandlookedupatthecanopyofherbed.Itwasagrandbed,andshe’dfeltverysmallsleepinginitalonelastnight.Nowshelookeddownathim,andhelookedasthoughhebelonged.Ofcourse,hebelonged.Hewasthesonofaduke.
Modestyrealizedhermistake.“Rowden,Ididn’tmeantoupsetyou.”
Hewavedahand.“Iusedtothinkthatway.Ididn’tneedorwantanythingfrommyfather,ormymother,forthatmatter.Thepainofyourfather’sliesisstillraw,butthinkofhowyou’llfeelyearsfromnow.”Helookedather,hisgreeneyesdark.“Theabsenceoffamilyleavesahole.”
Modestyhuggedhim,holdinghimclose.“I’llbeyourfamilynow.”
Hestrokedherhair.“AndI’llbeyours,butreconsidercuttingyourfatheroutcompletely.Ifyoudon’twantmetogotohim,I’llrespectyourwishes.Justbesurethatiswhatyouwant.”
Shelookedupathim.“Didyouevertrytomakeamendswiththeduke?Afteryourwifediedorafterthewar?”
Henodded.“I’vetriedseveraltimesovertheyears,butI’mdeadtohimnow.He’sahardmanandastubbornone.ButI’mlucky.”
Shefrowned.“Ifailtoseehow.”
“Ilostmyfamily,butinthewar,Igainedanewone.”Hegesturedtotheroom.“LordNicholas,Mostyn,Sterling.They’reallpartofmyfamilynow.They’remybrothers.”
“Thenthey’remybrothersaswell.”Hepulledherdownforakiss.Afteralongwhile,shesaid,“Howlonguntilwecanmarry?Threeweekstocallthebannsseemsalifetime.”
Hegaveheraroguishgrin.“Imaybethedisinheritedsonofaduke,butIstillhaveafewconnections.”
***
THEEVENINGAFTERTHEmuch-discussedexhibitioninHungerford,Thérèsestoodinherparlorandwonderedifshewasasmuchanidiotasshefeared.She’ddressedinherfinestgown,arubysilkwithabeadedbodiceshesetoffwitharubynecklaceandearrings—notrealrubies,ofcourse,butgoodcopies.She’dhadhermaidstyleherhair,pilingithighonherheadandaddinghundredsofrubiestothedark,glossylockssothatshewouldglitterunderthecandlelightatthewinterball.
Thatwasifsheattendedtheball.She’dhadnowordfromChibale,anditmightbetoomuchtoexpecthimtobeabletotravelbackfromHungerfordtoLondonintimetoescorthertotheball
She’dprobablywastedhertimedressing.Shecheckedtheclockonthemantel,sighed,andthoughtaboutcallinghermaidbacktoundressheragain.
“Bleuetteeespretty,”herparrotsaid,watchingherfromatophercage.
“I’mtheprettyonetonight,”shetoldthebird.
“Finelace!”
Thérèsewasn’twearinglace,butshetookitasacomplimentanyway.
“Shallwehavedessert,”Bleuettesquawked.
“Ihopewecanhavedessert,”Thérèsesaid.Ithadonlybeentwodays,butshe’dmissedhavingChibaleinherbed.She’dmissedhavinghimnearby,missedseeinghissmileacrossthebreakfasttable.Hewasprobablytiredfromcelebratinghisfighter’svictorythenightbefore.She’dsenthermaidouttogatherallthenewsfirstthingthismorning.ThérèsewassoproudofChibale.Shewishedshecouldhavebeentheretotellhimsoandtocelebratewithhim.
ItseemedthemoretimeshespentwithChibale,themoredifficultitbecametoremembertheirtimetogetherwasfleeting.Hewasinlovewithher,butshecouldn’tallowherselftofallinlovewithhim.Shecouldneverallowherselftobevulnerabletoamanagain.
ButChibalehadmadeitveryhardnottofallinlovewithhim.Sherememberedhimsweepingupbrokenglassinhershop,hissleevesrolledtohiselbowsasthoughhewereacommonlaborer.Sherememberedthewayhetouchedherinthedark,asthoughsheweresomeonespecialtobeprotectedandcherished.
Thérèsebitherlip.Shewasanimbecile.Shehadfalleninlovewithhimandnotevenrealized.
Aknocksoundedonthedoor,andBleuettecalledout,“Merde!”
Thérèseshookherhead.Ifshedidnotwatchhertongue,she’dnotbeabletobringBleuettetotheshopanylonger.Thérèse’sheartwasracingastheknocksoundedonthedooragain,andshetookadeepbreathandsmoothedherskirtsbeforewalkingcalmlytothedoorandopeningit.
Hermouthdroppedopenwhenshesawhim.Chibalestoodinthedoorwayinabluecoatofsuperfine,arubywaistcoat,andfawnbreeches.Hisbeaverhatsatatajauntyangle,andhehadawalkingstickdrapedacrossonearm.
Inhisotherarmheheldflowers.“Foryou,”hesaid.
Shetookthemixtureoftropicalflowersthatweresoexoticshecouldnotevenidentifythem.“Wheredidyoubuyflowerstheestimeofyear?”
Buthisgazewastravelingdownherandthenbackupagain.“Youlook…Idon’thavethewords.”
Thérèsefelthercheeksheatastheyhadn’tsinceshe’dbeenayounggirl.“Iseeyouworered,asinstructed.”
“Redismynewfavoritecolor,”hesaid,lookingasthoughhemighteatherup.Shealmostwishedtheycouldforegotheballandskiptotheeatinguppartoftheevening,butinsteadshereachedforherwrapperandtookhisarm.
Agrandcarriagewaitedonthestreetbelow,andshegavehimanotherlookassheclimbedintowhatcouldonlybedescribedasopulence.“ExactlyhowmuchmoneydidyouwininHungerford?”
Helaughed,sittingbesideher,ratherthanacrossfromher.“Notthismuch.Mr.Sterlingofferedthecoach,andtheflowerscamefromtheconservatoryofLordNicholas.”
“Youhavegenerousfriends.”
“Yes,Ido.”Hegazedatherforalongtime.“I’maluckyman.”
Shesmiled.“Whereeesyoursister,Bethanie?Ithoughtyouweretoescorthertotheball?”
“Shewillarrivewithmyparents.”
Thérèseunderstoodthenthathehadmadethesearrangementsforher.She’dtoldhimshedidn’twanttomarryhimanddidn’tseethepointincomingtoknowhisfamily.Nowshefeltselfish.Thatyounggirldeservedtorideinthiscarriagetoherfirstball.“Eesittoolatetofetchher—allofthem?”sheasked.
Chibalestaredather.“No.Idon’tthinkso.Areyoucertain?”
Thérèselookedbackathimandnodded.“Verycertain.”
***
HISPARENTSWEREWARMandkind.CharlotteandGambaOkorowerealmostasstarry-eyedastheirdaughterwhentheyclimbedintothelavishcoach.Thefamilyseemedtogenuinelyloveeachother,andshewatchedastheyteasedoneanotherandexchangedwarmsmiles.
“Butthebestpartabouttonight,”Charlottesaid,“ismeetingtheamazingwomanwhodesignedthisdress.”SheindicatedthegownBethaniewore.Thérèsehadtoadmititlookedlovelyonthegirl.“Youhaveararetalent,madam.”
“Merci,butiteeseasytodressonesolovelyasyourdaughter.”
“ChibaletellsusyoudressallofLondon,”Gambasaid.Andbeforesheknewit,theyhadhertalkingaboutsomeofherfamousandnot-so-famousclients.AndthenthetalkdriftedtotheirworkandChibale’sbrothers,andThérèsewassurprisedwhentheyarrivedattheassemblyhall.Thetimehadpassedsoquickly,andshe’dfeltcompletelycomfortable.
Onceinside,theOkorosintroducedhertothepresidentoftheNegroMerchant’sGuildandhiswife.Shequicklyfellintoconversationwithhimandothermembersoftheguild,whowereeagertohaveherjointheirranks.Finally,sherealizedChibalewasstandingatherelbow.Hegaveheradeepbow.“MayIhavethisdance?”heasked.
“Youshoulddancethefirstdancewithyoursister,”shetoldhim,steppingawayfromtheguildandtalkofbusiness.
“Ihavedancedwithhertwice,andnowshedanceswiththatmanthere.Myfatheriskeepinganeyeonthem,soImightdancewithyou.”
Thérèselaughed.“Herpartnerlooksharmlessenough.”Shegavehimherhandandallowedherselftobeledtothedancefloor.Shedancedwithhimtwicemoreaswellasseveralmembersoftheguild,andattheendofthenightherfeethurt,andshewashappilyexhausted.
Bethanierecountedeverymomentoftheballontheridehomeinthecarriage,andbeforetheystoppedattheOkorohouse,CharlotteputahandonThérèse’sarm.“Idohopeyouwilljoinusfordinnersoon.ChibalesaysImakethebestcurrantbunsinLondon.”
“Iwouldlovetotrythem,”shesaid.“Iadorecurrantbuns.”
“Tomorroweveningthen?”Charlotteasked.
“Oui.Mercibeaucoup.”
Whentheywerealoneagain,Chibaleleanedforward.“Thatwaskindofyou,butI’llmakeyourexcuses.”
Shetappedhisarmwiththetipofherfan.“You’lldonosuchthing.Youjustwantthecurrantbunsalltoyourself.”
Hetiltedhishead.“Ithoughtyoudidn’twanttogotodinnerwithmyfamily.”
Sheflickedherfanopenandwaveditinfrontofherface.“Thatwasbefore.”
“Before?”heaskedasthecarriagespedacrossLondontowardherflat.
“BeforeIrealizedI’minlovewithyou,”shesaid.HerfanwassnatchedoutofherhandasChibalegraspedherwristsandpulledhertohim.Helookedherdirectlyintheeyes,hisowneagerandhopeful.
“Didyoujustsayyouloveme?”
“Youshouldseeadoctoraboutyourhearing.”
“Sayitagain,Thérèse.”
“Iloveyou,Chibale.”
Hekissedher,thekindofkissthatmeltedallofherreservationsawayandmadeherwanttodoallsortsofwickedthingstohim.Shebarelynoticedwhenthecarriagestopped,butheopenedthedoor,gatheredherinhisarms,andcarriedherupthestairsandtoherdoor.Shewaslaughingbythetimehesetherdownsoshecouldretrievethekeyfromherreticule.“Youshouldsavesomeenergyfordessert,monchéri.”
“Ihavestaminatospare,”hesaid
“I’mcountingonthat.”Sheopenedthedoor,andtheytumbledinside.
Alongtimelater,helookeddownatherandspreadherhairoutonthesilkpillow.Shesmiledlazilyupathim.“YouknowwhatIwanttoasknow,”hesaid.
“Anothermarriageproposal.”Shepretendedtoyawn,butinsideherheartwaspounding.
“ShouldIaskagain?”
“Definitely.AndoneofthesedaysIpromisetosayyes.”Twenty-Two
EarlierthatdaynearHungerford,ModestyhadbeenreadinginthelibraryatBattle’sPeakwhenthebutlerenteredandclearedhisthroat.Shelookedaboutandrealizedshewastheonlyoneintheroom.“Areyoulookingforme?”
“Youhaveavisitor,miss.”
Shesatstraighter.“Ihaveavisitor?”
“ShallIshowhimin,miss?”
Modestydidn’tknowhowtoanswer,butthebutlerwasalreadyretreating.HereturnedamomentlaterwithSamuelBrown.Samuelheldhishatinhishands,hiswindsweptbrownhairfallingoverhisforehead.
Modestystood.“Mr.Brown.Thisis…unexpected.”
“I’msosorrytointrude.”Heglancedbackatthebutler,clearlyuncomfortable.
“You’renotintruding.Please,sitdown.”
Thebutlerclosedthedoor,andMr.Brownsatontheedgeofoneofthestraight-backedlibrarychairs.Hedidn’tspeakrightaway,andModestyhadtocurbherowndesiretofillthesilence.Herfatherhadalwaystoldherlisteningwasmoreimportantthanspeaking.Onthatpoint,sheagreed.
Finally,herhalf-brotherspoke.“IheardMr.Paynewonhisfight.”
“Hedid.”Shesmiled.“Didyouwishtospeaktohim?He’snothere,I’mafraid.”Hehadriddentoseeaboutobtainingaspeciallicensesotheycouldmarry.He’dleftveryearlythismorning,kissinghergentlybeforeclimbingoutofherbed.“Idon’texpecthimtoreturnuntiltomorrow.”
“No,Icametoseeyou,actually.Iwassurprisedyouwerestillinthecountry.IthoughtyouwouldreturntoTownimmediately.”
“ThatistheplanuponMr.Payne’sreturn.”Modestyfelttheneedtodosomethingwithherhands,besidesclutchthebooksheheld.“ShouldIringfortea?”
“No.Iwouldn’twanttotroubleanyone.MissBrown—”
“Wearefamily.YoushouldcallmeModesty.MayIcallyouSamuel?”
“Ofcourse.Modesty,I’mhereonbehalfofourfather.”
Modestygrippedthebooktighter,herhandsbeginningtoache.Shelookeddownatherwhite-knucklesandtriedtorelaxherfingers.
“Heregretsthewayyouparted.”
“Isthatwhatheregrets?”shesaidarchly.Immediately,shewishedshecouldtakethewordsback.“I’msorry.Noneofthisisyourfault.”
Hepassedhishatfromonehandtoanother.“Ifeelasthoughitis,inpart.Iknewaboutyou,andthereweretimesIthoughtofgoingtoLondonandconfrontinghimandmeetingyou.Ineverdidso.”
Modestygavehimasadsmile.“Thethreatofhisdisapprovalisapowerfuldeterrent.”
Henodded.“Yes.Youunderstand.”Hesethishatonhisknee.“ButIthinkthethreatofyourdisapprovalwasalsoapowerfulforceinhislife.Whenyoulefthimyesterday,hesankintoamelancholyIhaveneverseenbefore.Iheardhimspeakingwithmymotherwhenhethoughtwewereasleep.Hefearshehaslostyouforever.Hetoldmymotherthatwouldbethebiggestregretofhislife.Helovesyou,MissBrown.”
Modestypulledthebookintoherbelly,clutchingittightly.“Whatdoyouwantmetodo?”
“Idon’tfeelasthoughIhavetherighttoaskanythingofyou,butifyoucouldfinditinyourhearttoforgivehim,Iknowhewouldliketoseeyouagain.Ithinkwewouldallliketoseeyouagain.We’dliketobepartofyourlife.”
Modestyshookherhead,andMr.Brownrose,hishandsoutstretched.“Don’tfeelasthoughyouneedtogivemeananswer.Icametotellyouhowwefelt.Ihopeonedaytoseeyouagain.”
Modestystood.“Ihopesotoo,”shesaid,extendingherhand.Hetookit,squeezedit,andthenwasgone.Modestysatagainandopenedherbook,butshecouldn’treadaword.
***
THENEXTDAYMR.STERLINGreturnedtoLondon.Beforehesetoff,hedeliveredModestytoasmalltenantfarmafewmilesfromBattle’sPeak.Modestywishedhimsafetravelsandstartedupthewalk.
Herlegsfeltwobbly,andherheartwasinherthroat.Shewasnotatallcertainthiswastherightdecision,butshe’dthoughtandprayedaboutitalllastnight,andthismorningshe’dbeenresoluteinherdesiretoseeherfather.
Thedooropenedandthesameboyandgirlwhohadgreetedherlasttimestoodinthedoorwayagain.“MissBrown!”theycried.
Modestycouldn’thelpbutsmileatagreetinglikethat.“CallmeModesty,”shesaid,pausingattheentrancetothecottage.“Andwhatareyournames?”
“Grace,”saidthegirl.
“John,”saidtheboy.
“Grace,John,howlovelytoseeyouagain.Isyourmotherhere?”
“I’mhere,”saidMrs.Smith—Brown,comingintoviewbehindthechildren.Modestygaveheraformalnod.
“I’vecometoseemyfather,ifthat’sagreeabletoyou.”
“Ofcourse.Comein.”
Modestyentered,herbackstiffandstraightinthepresenceofherfather’smistress.Shemightnotblamethechildren,butshedidnotknowwhenorifshewouldeverbecomfortablearoundherfather’ssecondwife.Mrs.Brownledhertoherfather’sbed.Hewasseatedmuchasbefore,butthistime,hesatforward,havingheardherarrivalandanticipatingspeakingwithher.
Asbefore,Modestyenteredthemakeshiftchamber,andMrs.Brownpulledthecurtainclosed.Modestystoodawkwardlybeforehim.“Howareyoufeeling?”sheasked.
“Better,”hesaid.“Strongereveryday.”
“I’mgladtohearit.IwillbereturningtoLondonsoon.Iimagineyouintendtostayhere.”
“Ithinkthat’sbest,”hesaid.Afteralongpause,headded,“Wherewillyoulive?IcouldwritethePlineys.”
Modestyshookherhead.“I’mtobemarried.”
Thejoltthatwentthroughhimatthisnewswasvisible.Shecouldseehisfacetighten,seehimresisttheurgetoarguewithher.Afterall,hehadn’tbeenconsultedaboutamarriage.Finally,hetookadeepbreath.“Andwhoistheluckyman?”
“He’sapugilist,Mr.RowdenPayne.”
Herfather’seyesgrewwide,andsheraisedabrow,waitingforhimtoexpressanobjection.Anobjectionhewouldmakewhilelyinginhismistress’sbed.
“Iwishyoueveryhappiness,”hesaidthroughgrittedteeth.“Isitpossibleformetomeethimbeforeyouwed?”
Athisresponse,hisacceptance,aheavyweightseemedliftedoffhershoulders.Shesankintoachairbesidethebed.“Hewantedtocomeandaskforyourblessing.Hehasgonetofetchaspeciallicense.Icansendhimwhenhereturns.”
Theministerfrowned.“Hehastheinfluencetoobtainaspeciallicense?”
“Hisfatherisaduke.”TherestofthestorywasRowden’stotell,ifheeverchosetorevealit.
“Modesty,”herfatherbegan,andshetensedatthewayhelookedather.Asmuchasshewantedtohearwhathewouldsaynext,shedreadedittoo.“Iamsorryformyactions.Ineverwantedtolietoyou.Iknewitwaswrong.IknewmyrelationshipwithFannywaswrong,whileyourmotherwasalive.Sometimeslovemakesusdothingswewouldn’tnormallydo.It’snotanexcuse,Iknow,andIaskforyourforgiveness.”
Modestylookedathimforalongtime.Sometimeslovemakesusdothingswewouldn’tnormallydo.Thatstatementresonatedwithhermorethananyotherherfatherhadevermade.Shehadcertainlydonethingsshehadneverexpectedforlove.“Iforgiveyou,”shesaid.
Herfather’sfacebrokeintosuchahugesmilethatshewishedshehadforgivenhimearlier.Hisjoywasundeniable.“Ifyouwillallowit,”hesaid,“I’dliketobetheonetoperformthemarriageceremony.”
Modestynodded,feelingtearsprickhereyes.“IwillhavetospeaktoRowden.Ifheagrees,wewouldstillneedtopostponeforjustalittlewhile.”
“Whyisthat?”herfatherasked.
“IwouldlikemyAuntAugustatoattend.”
Herfatherblinked.“Yourmother’ssister?”
“Yes.I’dliketomeether.I’dliketowritetoherandaskhertocometothewedding.”
Herfatherlookedaway.“Sheneverapprovedofme,youknow.Shesaidyourmothershouldmarrysomeoneofherownclass.Someonedeservingofher.IsupposeIprovedhercorrect.”Helookedbackupather.“Butshewillwanttoseeyou.IregretthatItriedtokeepherawayfromyourmotherandyou.It’spasttime,youcametoknowherandyourmother’sfamily.”
Modestytookhishand.“It’spasttimeIcametoknowyourfamilytoo.”
Henodded.“I’dlikethat.”
“SowouldI.”
***
THEWEDDINGWASHELDafortnightlaterinthechapelatBattle’sPeak.LordNicholasdidnotattend,buthissisterLadyFlorentiawasthrilledtohaveareasontoopenthehousetovisitors.Theceremonywassmall,buttheweddingbreakfastwascrowdedandraucous.MostynandLadyLorrainehadnotcomefromLondon,butLadyLorrainehadwrittentosayshewasquiterecoveredanddirectingallaboutherfromacomfortablechair.Herhusbandhadtakentospendingmoretimewithher—shelovinglycalledhimherjailer—andRowdenhadtoldModestyMostynwaspleasedRowdenhadagreedtopartnerwithhimattheboxingstudio.Withthenewbabycoming,hecouldusethehelp.
Mr.OkoroandMadameRenauldattended.Theywerenotyetengaged,butModestydidnotthinkitwouldbelong.MadameRenauldhadsentaweddingdressasagift,andModestyadoredtheprettyspriggedmuslininpalegreenandblue.
Mr.Sterlinghadalsoattended,bringingsomeofRowden’sothercomradesinarmsandtheirwives.Modestywastryingtolearnalloftheirnames,butshefearedshe’dhavetoberemindedwhenshenextsawthem.
EvenTrogdonwasthere.Hewassupposedtobehelpingtheotherfootmenservechampagneandtea,buthehadmysteriouslyinjuredhiselbowthismorningandnowsimplystoodbyadoorlookingdistinguished.
Mostimportantlytoher,herfamilywasthere.HerAuntAugustahadcome,andModestyhadspentagreatdealoftimewithherthenightbefore.HeraunthadtoldherstoriesofhermotherandpromisedtospendagreatdealoftimewithModestywhentheybothreturnedtoLondon.Herhalf-siblingsandherfatherandhiswifewerealsoinattendance
***
AFTERALIGHTSUPPERwithLadyFlorentia,RowdenledModestytotheirbedchamber.LadyFlorentiahadmadeanearlyexiteasyforthem,sayingtheymustbesotiredbytheeventsofthedaythattheywouldcertainlywanttoretireearly.
Rowdenhadn’targued.HeclosedthedoorbehindModesty,lockedit,andtookherinhisarms.Shelaidherheadonhisshoulderandsighed.
“Happy?”heasked.
“Perfectly.”
Helookeddownather,amazedatthechangesinher.Gonewasthelittlefigureinblackwiththepalefaceandthelarge,holloweyes.Inherplacestoodabeautifulwomaninalovelygreenandbluedressthatseemedtoshiftthecolorofherhazeleyeseverytimeshelookedathim.Hercheekswererosy,andherauburnhairnolongerhidunderacap.
Butthebiggestchange,hethought,wasinhimself.Beforehislifehadbeenallaboutthenextmill,thenextbigpursetobewon.Nowhedidn’tcareifheeverfoughtagain.ThatmightbeinpartbecausehisjawstillhurtwheretheGermanhadpunchedhimweeksago.Butmostlyitwasbecausehedidn’tneedtheroarofthecrowdsandthethrillofthefighttoblockoutthelonelinessandpain.HewouldalwaysloveMary.Hewouldalwaysmournthelossofherandhischild.
ButtherewasenoughroominhisheartforModesty,andperhaps,oneday,childrenwithher.Thelightandthedarkcouldexisttogether,andhecouldallowhimselftoliveinthelight.
“Ihopeyou’renottoodisappointedwemustwaitforourhoneymoon.”
Shetiltedherhead.“ItoldyouIdidn’tmind.Theweatheristoocoldtotravelatpresentanyway.Besides,Mr.Mostynneedsyou.Youaretheco-ownerofaboxingstudionow.Youhaveanobligationtoyourbusiness.”
“Mymotherwillswoonwithshamewhenshehears.”
“Whocares?”Modestysaidlightly.“Iamproudofyou.Yourfriendsareproudofyou.Andyouhaveanewfamilynow.”
“Yourfamily?”
“Yes.”Sheledhimtothebedandbegantostripoffhiscoat.“MyauntisthrilledwewillbeinLondonandabletospendtimewithher.”
Heangledhisbodysoshemightstartonthebuttonsofhiswaistcoat.“Andyourfatherwantsyoutovisithimeveryotherweek.”
“Yes,well…”Sheconcentratedonmaneuveringthewaistcoatfromhisshoulders.Shetookhishandstounfastenhiscufflinks.
“Youmayhaveforgivenhim,Modesty,butthatdoesn’tmeanyouhavetoforget.Noonewouldblameyoufortakingtimetorebuildyourrelationship.”
Shelookedupathimasshetuggedathisneckcloth.“Hewillblameme.”
“Lethim.”Rowdenpluckedapinfromherhairandthenanotheruntilitbegantofallfromitsconfines.“You’reamarriedwomannow.Yourhusbandneedsyou.”
“Youdon’tneedanyone,RowdenPayne,”shesaidunfasteningthebuttonsathisneck.
“Nottrue,mylove.Idesperately,desperatelyneedyou.”Hebenttokissherasshetuggedthetailsfromhisshirtoutofhisbreechesandslidherhandsunderneathtotouchhisbareskin.
“AndIneedyou,”shewhispered.
Hepulledtheshirtoverhisheadandthenpulledherhardagainsthisbarechest.
“Youhavemenow,ModestyPayne.Likeitornot,I’myoursforever.”
Sheputherhandsonhisfaceandlookedupathimadoringly.“There’snothingIwantmore…”Shesmiledshyly.“Exceptperhapsforyoutoremovetherestofyourclothing.”
Heraisedabrow,pretendingtobescandalized.“Mrs.Payne,whatwillyoudowhenIstripdown?”Hereachedforthefallofhistrousers,butshecoveredhishandandunfasteneditherself,causinghimtoinhaleinsharpsurprise.
“Let’sfindout.”WantmoreRowden?KeepreadingforanexcerptfromSweetRogueofMine,Nash’sstory,onsalenow!
––––––––
One
SOMEONEWASINTHEhouse.NashPopemightbehalfasleepandhalfdrunk,butheknewwhensomeonewasinhishouse.Hewasatrainedsharpshooter,andhisbodywasattunedtoeventhemostsubtlechangesinatmosphere.Justafewminutesbefore,theairinWentmorehadbeenstaleandstill,theonlysoundswereofmicescamperingintheatticandthecreakandgroanoftheancienttimberbeamsandfloorboardssettling.
Butnowthemicehadgonesilentandtheairstirred.Thehouseseemedtostraightenandtakenoticeofsomeonenew,someonefarmoreinterestingthanitscurrentoccupant.Inthediningroom,thecurtainsclosedagainstthedaylight,thelonecandlethatburnedflickeredasthoughthehouseexhaledsoftlyinanticipation.
Nashraisedhisheadfromthestickytableandheardtheshuffleoffeetandthesqueakofadoorhinge.
Hereachedforhispistol.Hedidn’tneedtoseeit.Itwasanextensionofhisarmandhisfavoritepistolbyfar.Heownedatleasthalfadozen,includingabraceofmatchingduelingpistolsmadebyManton,apepperboxpistolmadebyTwigg,amoredecorativepistolhe’dpurchasedfromtheLondongunsmithHawkins—wholikedtoadvertisethattheformerAmericanPresidentGeorgeWashingtonownedoneofhiscreations—andthisone,madebytheFrenchmanGribeauval.GribeauvalhadmadeNapoleon’spersonalpistol,andthoughNashwasnoadmirerofNapoleon,hedidadmiretheFrencharmoryofSt.Etienne.
Nash’sthumbslidoverthepolishedwalnutgunstock,overthepewterfiligree,untilhisfingercurledintothetriggerguardasthoughitwereawell-wornglove.Heliftedthepistol,notfeelingitsweight,thoughitwasheavierthansome,andthenwaited.Itwoulddohimnogoodtoseekouttheintruder.Theworld,whathecouldseeofit,wasgrayandfullofshadows.Bettertolettheinterlopercometohim.Hecouldstillshootstraightifhewasstill.
Allhadgonesilent.PerhapstheuninvitedguesthadpausedtolistenasNashdid.
Ifthegamewaspatience,Nashwouldwin.Asasharpshooter,hehadwaitedmorethanhehadeverfiredattheenemy.Heoftenstoodinonespot,unmoving,forfourorfivehours.Hestoodintheheatorthecoldor,ifhewasfortunate,inthecool,scentedbreezeofaspringday.Theweathermightchange,buthisrifleathissideneverhad.
Theriflehadbeenputaway.Hecouldn’tsightintherifleanymore,anditwasbasicallyuselesstohimnow,buthittinghistargetwithhispistolandonepoorlyworkingeyewaspossible.
“Nash!”avoicecalledout.Ifhehadn’tbeentrainedaswell,hemighthavejumped.ButNash’sjawonlytickedathisnameshatteringthesilence.
Thefloorboardcreakedagain.Theintruderwasinthefoyer.Hewasnotdirectlyoutsidethediningroom.Thevoicewasstilltoodistant.
“Putyourpistoldown,Nash.Icametotalktoyou.”
Nashdidnotlowerthepistol,thoughthevoicesoundedfamiliarnow.Stratford?No,thisvoicewasn’trefinedenough.Stratfordhadbeenhereafewmonthsbefore.Apparently,he’dsoughtoutNash’sfather,theEarlofBeaufort,inLondonandtoldhimNashneededhim.Stratfordobviouslydidn’tknowthattheearldidn’tgiveadamnaboutNash.He’dsenthissolicitor,andNashhadfiredthepistolheheldnowoverthebaldman’sheadandsenthimrunningbacktoTown.
Adooropenedandthemansaid,“Nash?”
Itwasthedoortotheparlor.
“Nash,ifyoushootme,I’llkickyourpatheticarseallthewaytoSpainandback.”
Nashfelthislipsquirkinanunwelcomehalf-smile,ashefinallyrecognizedthevoice.“AndifIkillyou?”Nashasked.
“ThenI’llcomebackandhauntyou.”Rowdenwasjustoutsidethediningroomnow,standingatthedoor.NashandRowdenhadmetinSpain,bothservinginHisMajesty’sarmy.They’dbecomeclosefriends,eveniftheirskillsetswerequitedifferent.
“IfIopenthisdoor,willyoushootme?”Rowdenasked.
“Itdepends,”Nashsaid,stillholdinghispistolattheready.“Didmyfathersendyou?”
Apause.“Ofcourse,hesentme.”Rowdenspokelikehefought—directlyandplainly.Hedidnotpullpunches.
“Thendon’topenthedoor.”
“Shootmeandthenexttoarrivewillbemenfromanasylum.Beaufortisreadytosendyoutoaninstitutionrightnow.MayneandFortescuemanagedtotalkhimoutofitandarrangedtohavemesentinstead.”
Nashconsidered.TheDukeofMaynewouldhavedonethetalkingashewasthenegotiatorofthegroup.StratfordFortescuewouldhavedecidedtosendRowden.Fortescuewasalwaysthestrategist
“Whyyou?”Nashasked.SeeingthatMaynewasthenegotiator,itwouldhavemademoresenseforhimtocome.
“Ineededtheblunt.”
Nashwincedandsetthepistoldown.Thathurt.HisfatherwaspayingNash’sfriendstointervene.Heexpectedasmuchfromhisfather,whohadgivenuponNashalongtimeago.Buthisfriends…still,whatcouldheexpectwhenhehadshotDuncanMurraythispastsummer?Thatmisstepwasboundtohaverepercussions.
“I’mcomingin,”Rowdensaid,histoneoneofwarning.Thelatchliftedandthedooropened.Intheflickeringcandlelight,Nashmadeoutadarkform.Ofcourse,herememberedwhatRowdenlookedlike.Hewasbroadandstockywithshortbrownhairandcoal-blackeyes.Hehadaprettyface,orhewouldhaveifhisnosehadn’tbeenbrokensomanytimes.Nashrememberedwhateverymanhehadeverservedwithlookedlike.Hismemorywasmoreofacursethanablessing,though,asherememberedeverywomanand,yes,childhehadevershottoo.
“Youlooklikehell,”Rowdensaid,stillstandinginthedoorway.
“IwishIcouldtellyouthesame,butIcan’tseeworthadamn.”
“Stillfeelingsorryforyourself,Isee.”
Nash’shanditchedtoliftthepistolagain,buthewasnothot-tempered.Hewouldnothavelastedaweekasasharpshooterifhehadbeen.“Whatdoyouwant,Payne?TowhatdoIowethepleasureofavisitfromoneofDraven’sDozen?”
Rowdenpulledoutthechairattheoppositeendofthetableandsat.Nashsawonlyagray,amorphousshapebuthisothersensesfilledinthemissinginformation.“Consideringyou’reoneofus,I’mnotsurewhyyou’resurprised.WeSurvivorstakecareofourown.”
Itwasalie,butNashdecidednottopointthatout.Notyet.TheSurvivorswereatroopofthirtyhighlyskilledmilitarymenwhohadbeenrecruitedassomethingofasuicidebandtokillNapoleonordietrying.Eighteenhaddiedtrying.Twelvehadcomehome.Theyhadbeenbrothers-in-arms,butNashdidnotfeelanyfraternalaffectionnow.Theothersweremovingonwiththeirlives,whilehewouldbeforeveralone,lockedinaworldofdarkness.
“You’rethin,”Rowdenobserved.ToastockyfighterlikeRowdenPayne,thinnesswasaliability.“Don’tyoueat?”
“Youmustneedmyfather’smoneybadlyifyou’replayingnursemaidnow,”Nashsaid.
Shotfired.
“Iwanttokeepyoualive,andnoonehastopaymeforthat.”
Missedtarget.
“I’malive.”ButNashknewthatwouldn’tbeenough.NotaftertheaccidentwithMurrayafewmonthsbefore.Nashhadknownsomeinterventionwascoming.HesupposedheshouldbegladtheSurvivorshadconvincedhisfathertosendRowdenbeforethemenfromtheasylum.VerylittlefrightenedNashanymore,buttheprospectofthenextfiftyyearslockedinanasylumdroveaspikeoffearintohisheart.Hewouldputthepistolinhismouthandpullthetriggerfirst.“WhatdoIhavetodotokeeptheasylumatbay?”
“Soyouhaven’tcompletelypickledyourbrainyet.”
“WhatdoIhavetodo?”Nashrepeated.Hewoulddowhatwasrequiredandthen,hopefully,theworldwouldleavehimalone.Afterall,he’dgivenhissightforKingandCountry.Whycouldn’ttheyleavehiminpeace?
“Idon’thaveacomprehensivelist,”Rowdensaidafterapause,duringwhich,Nashassumed,hewaslookingaboutthediningroom.“Offthetopofmyhead,Iwouldsaythisoldpileneedssomerepair.Itlooksliketherewasafireatsomepoint.”
Nashdidnotcomment.
“Andclearlyyouneedtoingestsomethingotherthangin.”
Nashliftedhisemptyglass.“Thiswaswhiskey.”Atleasthethoughtithadbeenwhiskey.Maybeithadbeenbrandy.
“Youneedstaff.”
“Nostaff,”Nashsaid.
Rowdenletoutaquietgrunt.“We’lldiscussit.Butsufficeittosay,Icansmellyouallthewayoverhere.Whenwasthelasttimeyouputonacleansetofclothesortookabath?”
“Willyouscrubmyback?”Nashsneeredandthenwassorryforit.NoneofthiswasRowden’sfault.Noneofthiswasanyone’sfault.Nashhadknowntheriskswhenhewenttowar.Hejusthadn’tthoughtanythingwouldhappentohim.He’dbeensoyoung.Likemostyoungmen,he’dthoughthewasinvincible
Rowdenrose.“I’llmakeyousomecoffee.Wecanstartthere.”
Twohourslater,Nashwaswillingtoconcedelifemightbeeasierifhehadafewstaffmembers.Notthatheneededthemtotendtohimpersonally.Hecoulddamnwelltakecareofhimself.ButhedidgrowtiredofRowden’smutteringashecrashedaboutinthekitchenmakingawful-tastingcoffee,hauledwateruptothetubinNash’sbedchamber,andevenlaidoutNash’sclothing.ThemutteringhadceasedonceMrs.Brownmadeanappearance.Nashdidn’tknowwhyshestillcameeveryfewdays.Shehadn’tbeenpaidformonths,andNashwasn’texactlywelcomingtowardher.Halfthetimehedidn’teveneatthefoodshesetinfrontofhim.Buthesupposedheowedittoherthathehadcleanclothesandabarofsoapandsomethingedibleinthelarder.
Nashwantedtobeleftalone,andshedidherbesttoleavehimalone.Thatwaswhyhehadn’trunheroffcompletely.
Now,dressedinclean,uncomfortableclothingwithhistoo-longhairstilldamponhisneckandforehead,Nashmadehiswaygingerlyacrossthefoyer.Hisbellyrumbled.He’dhadabitofbreadwiththecoffeeandnowhisbodyseemedtowantmore.Nashthoughthemightseeifanymorefoodhadbeenleftinthediningroom,butthenheheardvoices.RowdenandMrs.Brownwereinthere.Nashturnedhisheadtocatchtheirwords.
“—sogladyouhavecome,Mr.Payne.I’vebeensoworried.”
“You’reagoodwomantohaveenduredallofthis.”
“Pshaw.MyfamilyhasworkedfortheEarlsofBeaufortforgenerations,andIrememberMr.Popewhenhewasjustababy.Icouldn’tleavehim.Hewasalwayssuchagoodlad.Notabitoftemperinhim.Alwayssmilingandlaughing.Alwayswithakindword.Itwasthewarwhatdidthistohim.”
Nashdidn’tknowifRowdenanswered.Hecouldn’tstandthepityheheardinMrs.Brown’svoice,andheknewhewouldeitherexplodeinrageorgetaway.Hechosethelatter,andbeforeheknewwhathadhappened,hewasoutside,squintinginthesuddenbrightness.Hecouldseeevenlessinthesunlightthanintheshadows.Thelightseemedtowashawaywhatlittlevisionhehadleftinhisrighteye,makingeverythingintoawhiteblob.Nashclosedhiseyesandusedhiswalkingsticktofeelforanyobstaclesbeforehim.HerememberedwalkingthestreetsofLondonwiththissamestick.He’dswingitaboutortwirlit,tryingtoappeardashingtotheyoungladies.Nowheneededittokeepfromfallingonhisface.
Howpathetic.
HemovedtowardthebackofWentmore,wheretherehadoncebeenaninformalgardenoftallfloweringtrees,vines,paths,andfootbridgesoverbabblingbrooks.Itwascertainlyovergrownnow,butatonetimehehadknownthatgardensowell,hecouldhavewalkeditblindfolded.Ironicthatnowthatwas,inessence,whathewouldneedtodo.TheinformalgardenwasoneofthereasonshisfatherhadgivenNashthecareofWentmore.Theestatewasnothis,ofcourse.AlloftheBeaufortpropertieswouldgotoNash’seldestbrotherwhenheinheritedthetitle.ButnooneinthefamilyhadwantedNashattheestateinRichmond.ItwastooclosetoLondon.TooclosetoSociety,whereeveryonemightseethehorrorofhisinjury.
Sothey’dsenthimnorth,toWentmore,whichwasburiedinthecountrysideandclosetonothingbutatinyvillagenamedMilcroft.ThefamilyhadcomeherewhenthechildrenwereyoungasLadyBeaufortthoughtitwasquaintandhadwantedtoexposethechildrento“simplepeople.”Andindeed,theareasurroundingMilcroftwasinhabitedbydairymaids,blacksmiths,bakers,acountrydoctor,avicar,andmanycrofters—someofthemBeaufort’stenants.Thepeoplehadbeenkindandwelcoming,andNashhadspentafewweekseachyearrunningaboutbarefootalongWentmore’sextensivegrounds.
HowhehaddreadedreturningtotheformalnessoftheestateinRichmondand,whenhegrewolder,theschoolroom.Althoughhehadpatienceandfocus,Nashhadneverbeenagoodstudent.Hismindworkedquickly,solvingproblemsandworkingoutrationales.ButhisprofessorsseemedtodroneonandonaboutthesamematerialuntilNashwasboredsenselessandstoppedlistening.Hehaddonewellenoughasmostofhisstudiesrequiredrotememorizationandhecouldmemorizeeasily,buthehadnevertrulyexcelled.
Nashpausednow,havinglosthimselfinhisthoughtsandremembrancesandtreaddeepenoughintothegardenthatthesunlighthadbeensomewhatobscured,andhecouldmakeoutshapeshereandthere.Hehadn’tbeenoutsideinweeks,butfromthecrispfeelofthebreeze,heknewitmustbeautumn,lateSeptemberorearlyOctober.Hecouldimaginethecolors—quiteabitofgreenandpatchesofyellowandredandbrownaswell.Inthedistance,heheardtheburbleofthebrook.Hewouldwalktowarditandsitforawhileonthefootbridge,listeningtothewaterrushby.Itseemednomatterhowmuchhislifechangedorhowmanyyearspassed,thatwaterwasalwaystravelingunderthatbridge,undeterred.
Usinghisstick,Nashmovedtowardthesoundofthewater.Hehadagoodideawherehewasnow,couldpicturethepathinhismind.Ofcourse,itwasmoreovergrownthanithadbeenbeforehe’dleftforthewarandthebramblescaughtonhistrousers,forcinghimtopauseeveryfewminutestofreehimself.Hewasn’tevensureifhewasstillonthepath—oriftherewasapath—butthesoundofthebrookgrewclearer.
Nashliftedhiswalkingsticktofeelforthewoodofthebridgeandhitwhatfeltlikeatreetrunk.Hemovedaroundit,totheleft,thinkingmaybehewastoofarsouthofthebridge.Butthenthegroundbegantoslopedownward,andherealizedthathehadmisjudged.Thebridgewasonhighergroundandhewasnowonthebanksofthebrook.Heswunghisstickagainand,movingforwardabit,hefinallyfoundthegentlerisethatledtothebridge.Heturnedthatway,buthisfootwasmiredinthesoftearthofthebank.Hepulleditfree,buthe’dhadtoleanonhissticktodoso,andthenthathadbecomestuck.Nashhadtoyankitout,whichthrewhimoffbalanceandhisfootsankbackintothemud.
Somuchforhiscleanclothing.Histrouserlegsmustnowbemuddyalmosttothecalf.Hevaguelyrememberedhearingthunderacoupleofnightsagoandthecrashofheavyrainontheroof.Ifhe’drememberedbeforehewouldnothaveheadedforthebrook.Withouthissight,everythingwassogoddamndifficult.Beforehewouldhavewalkeddirectlytothebridge,dangledhisfeetover,andsatforaslongasheliked.Nowhecouldn’tevenmanagethatbecausehecouldn’tnavigatewellenoughtostayoutofthemudandmuck.
Hepulledhisfootfreeagain,andstruggledtotakeastep,butheonlysankintomoremud.Washemovingtowardthebrookorawayfromit?He’dbecomedisorientedandmadehimselfpausetolisten.Heneededtopinpointthelocationofthebrookandmoveawayfromit.
Nashwentstill,cockinghisheadtolisten.Heheardtherushofthebreezethroughthetreelimbs,thechirpofbirdshighahead,thesingingofawoman,andtheburbleofthewater.
Thewaterwastohis…
Nashfrowned.Singing?
“Imetayounggirltherewithherfaceasarose
Andherskinwasasfairasthelilythatgrows
Isays,Myfairmaid,whyrambleyouso
Canyoutellmewherethebonnyblackharedogo”
Hervoicewasclearandsweet,butNashknewthissonganditwasanythingbutsweet.Hetriedagaintowresthisfootfromthemud,butheallbutlosthisbalanceandonlyrightedhimselfatthelastmomentfromfallingbackwardandlandingarse-firstinthemud.
“Theanswershegaveme,O,theanswerwasno
Butundermeaprontheysayitdogo
Andifyou’llnotdeceiveme,Ivowanddeclare
We’llbothgotogethertohuntthebonnyblackhare”
Thevoicewasclosernow,thesongsunglustilyandwithoutanyself-consciousness.Sheobviouslydidnotrealizeshewasnotalone.Nashtriedtoclearhisthroatashervoicecamecloser,butshewassingingtooloudlytohear.
“Ilaidthisgirldownwithherfacetothesky
Itookoutmeramrod,mebulletslikewise
Saying,Wrapyourlegsroundme,diginwithyourheels
Forthecloserweget,O,thebetteritfeels”
Nashwasstillnow,wantingtoheartherestofthesong.He’dheardthebawdysongmanytimesinonetavernoranother,butneversungwithsuchabandonorenthusiasm.Indeed,onthatlastline,shehadbeltedout,“Forthecloserweget,O,thebetteritfeels.”
“Thebirds,theyweresinginginthebushesandtrees
Andthesongthattheysangwas”
“Oh!”
Hersinginghadendedabruptly,andNashrealizedshe’dseenhim.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”sheasked.Nay,itwasmoreofademand.Asthoughsheownedthisgarden,andheweretheoneencroaching.Nashtriedtostandupstraightandturnhisfacetowardthesoundofhervoice.Shewasontheothersideofthebrook,asnearhecouldcalculate,possiblyontheothersideofthefootbridge.
“Ithinkthebetterquestion,miss,iswhatyouaredoingonmylandandhowquicklyyoucanleave.Unlessyoufancyachargeoftrespassing,thatis.”