What had her mother done? They’d agreed to not purchase anything on credit. It had taken selling almost all of their possessions to get them out of debt after the death of Sir Charles. They barely were able to make ends meet now. She picked up the dresses to move them over so she could at least sit on the bed and take off her old half boots.
How was she to pay for this? They had to be returned immediately. She quickly changed out of her smelly work clothes into a simple gown and went downstairs to face her mother. As she moved through the house, she noticed other things, lamps, new candlesticks. On the floor of her mother’s room she peeked in and saw Tansy, their one maid of all work, putting away her mother’s dresses.
Beth stepped inside her mother’s room. “Tansy, what is going on?”
Tansy, an older woman, turned, a smile of joy on her face. “Tis’ a miracle, miss, that the marquis is back in your life. Your mother borrowed the money so that we could prepare when he renews his attentions to you.”
Beth’s eyes widened. “What?”
Tansy’s face fell. “He isn’t courting you?”
“No, he is not. Where did Mother get the money?”
Tansy paled. “We visited a place here in Holborn. She borrowed the money promising that the marquis would pay it back once your engagement was announced.”
Beth leaned against the door, waves of nausea making her dizzy. She’d seen the results of borrowing money from certain lenders and the painful results of not being able to pay it back. She clutched her stomach to stop the trembling. “We cannot afford any of this. How am I to pay for it?”
Suddenly, she was angry. How dare her mother make such a decision without consulting her? Her mother had no concept of what things really cost. Even when Beth’s father had been alive, her mother was always exceeding their income. Her father always managed to make things work out, but Beth couldn’t do that. She had no way to earn additional income.
Beth made her way back to the small parlor on the ground floor. She had to think through the problem. If she gave in to the urge to scream, her mother would just end up in tears and nothing would change. Beth stood in the doorway, breathing deeply to calm herself. Her mother worked her embroidery by the fire, something she normally did each night. “Mother, where did you get the money for the gowns, the candles, and the lamps.”
“I borrowed it. Tansy was able to get the name of a man who would help us. What do you think of the gowns? I had to go to a shop most of the ton would not use in Holborn, but they had nice things, didn’t they?”
“It has to be returned. Tomorrow. We cannot afford this.”
“But you and Langston...”
“It was a chance meeting, Mother. I doubt I shall see him again.”
“He made promises to you, Beth. He’s a gentleman, he will honor them.”
“Mother, we’ve been in London all this time. Don’t you think he would have honored his promises by now?”
Lady Bishop’s face fell at her sarcastic tone and Beth’s mouth tightened to hold back words of comfort. These five years had been difficult for her mother. She’d married beneath her when she married Sir Charles and to sink further into poverty was a daily reminder of that. But her mother’s inability to deal with the reality of their situation exceeded even what Beth thought possible. Her father had always called Lady Bishop delicate. Beth was beginning to wonder if the woman was a bit mad.
“What were you doing at the Royal Academy if you did not go there to meet Langston?”
At the wounded tone in her voice, Beth moved to sit beside Lady Bishop and took her hand. “I was entering a painting into the Royal Exhibition.”
“I take it they refused the painting.”
Beth sighed heavily. “Yes. They did. Mother, why didn’t you discuss the money with me first.”
“Unlike you, I still believe Langston is a gentleman. We can’t look like paupers when he comes to call. It’s bad enough that we have to live in Holborn.” Lady Bishop’s voice was inching toward hysteria. “Beth, I do think you prefer living here instead of the way life could be.”
“Mother, what is wrong with the life we have now? We may not be wealthy or move in society the way we did in the past, but we have enough.”
Lady Bishop glared at her. “I am sick and tired of living as a pauper. If you had insisted on an engagement before he left, we’d be living in Mayfair right now.”
“Suddenly this is my fault? Do you think I made his mother ill and die so that he would leave? Mother, you must be reasonable. Tomorrow we will go and return the items you purchased, then return the money.”
“I will do no such thing. We needed new gowns, candles, lamps, real tea, and an adequate tea service. These are necessities. You cannot expect me to entertain callers with the cracked, cheap pottery we have now. And if I have to drink reused tea again, I might scream.”
Beth thought she might cast up her accounts. “How much did you borrow, Mother?”
“Fifty pounds. I considered a larger amount, but thought it would be better if I didn’t go too far considering our circumstances.”
Fifty pounds was a fortune. Beth barely made enough to scrape by as it was. Mother’s dower share barely covered the rent for the house. Beth stood quickly and began pacing. “What did you promise them to get the money?”
“I mentioned you were to be engaged to Lord Langston, and they were very happy to lend me the money.” Lady Bishop smoothed her skirts. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset at this.”
Shock made Beth’s movements jerky. “Mother when did you say that the money would be paid back?”
“I agreed to a term of one month. Now that Langston has found you, it shouldn’t take that long to bring him up to scratch. I plan to write Langston to remind him of his promises to you.”
Good God, her mother was impossible! Beth didn’t even know where to begin to clean up this mess. “Mother, you will not write Langston, do you hear me? You will stay out of this. Now tell me who lent you the money?”
“Mr. Jones was his name. Quite a nice gentleman with a very nice shop.” Her mother picked up her embroidery and begin her stitching again, oblivious to the disaster she’d created.
“Mr. Nathan Jones?” Beth asked hesitantly, praying her mother would say no.
“Yes, that is the man. A very nice gentleman considering his birth. He was quite accommodating even if he is a bit of a ruffian.” Her mother spoke as if she had invited the man to tea rather than sold their souls for gowns and candles.
Beth had heard Jones’ name at the theatre. He was a well-known money lender with a reputation for being unforgiving. Fear tightened her throat, froze her in her place. Her mother had borrowed from a man who would think nothing of ruining them to get his money. And ruining them was gentle. His more likely choice of punishment would be something far more vile and painful. “Everything must go back. All of it. You do not understand the man you’ve done business with. He will hurt us.”
“Beth, it won’t matter. Langston will make it right. He will pay the debt.”
Beth couldn’t hold back the fear, the anger any longer. “Langston is not obligated to pay the debt. It’s time you face up to the facts that we do not move in those circles any longer. This is the way life is and we have to deal with it. Wishing for something to happen will not make it so.”
“Do not blame me for this, Elizabeth. This is your own fault for not getting the man to marry you in the first place. It is my job to make sure you don’t throw away good opportunities again.”
“Spending money you’ve borrowed from an unscrupulous man is not a good opportunity. Placing hopes that a union between Langston and me is a dream. It’s never going to happen.” Beth shouted back. “I do not understand why you can’t be content with what we have.”
“Because I was not meant to scrimp and save to survive. I am the daughter of an earl.” Lady Bishop’s voice rose well above her own.
The fight went out of her. It was a hopeless argument. “
A penniless earl whose relatives would not help us when we needed it, Mother. This is reality. You need to face it and learn to live with it,” Beth said. “All of these new things must go back. We have to give the money back. There is no other way. Moneylenders like Mr. Jones hurt people who cannot pay.”
Beth left her mother in the parlor and made her way upstairs, her mind was a chaos of fear and planning. Her mother had no idea the trouble she had invited into their home. This man had a brutal reputation. Beth needed time to think, to come up with a solution that would get them out of this predicament before time was up. A month! Mother had promised a month. How was such a sum to be gained? Even if Beth sold every single painting she’d done, the few left from her father’s portfolio, it still wouldn’t not be enough.
“Miss Beth?”
Beth wanted to ignore Tansy’s call as she passed by her mother’s room. She stopped and stuck her head in the door. “Please see that these things are readied to be returned to the merchant, Tansy, then you can go for the day.”
“Yes, miss. Should I put supper out before I go?”
“Yes, of course, but only for Mother. I’m not hungry.” The thought of food on her soured stomach, just made her nauseous. She continued up the stairs to the top of the house where her bedroom was located. She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it softly behind her. The urge to slam the door was strong. Very strong.
Beth sunk down to sit on the floor her back to the door. She hugged her knees to her chest and pressed her face down to capture her sobs. As much as she’d tried to face things as cheerfully as possible, this time she just couldn’t. Her reach for an impossible dream; recognition for her talent had caused this. She was content with her life. She was able to eke out a living with her talent. Why did she feel this need to prove to the world she was as good, if not better than her father?
Chapter Four
Two evenings later, Beth had put on one of her new gowns and allowed Tansy to fix her hair in the latest fashion. The clothes could not be returned, neither could any of the other things. She smoothed her hand over the heavy silk, enjoying the feel of it. If she was going to suffer for her inability to pay back the money that her mother borrowed, she might as well do it in style.
Truth be told, she hadn’t slept well. Nightmares of Mr. Jones coming to their home and taking everything kept her awake. Beth was terrified of what would happen to them, angry at her mother’s inability to grasp the seriousness of what she’d done, and at a complete loss as to how to fix it. She would probably have to ask for help, but from whom? Langston? Doubtful he would care. That left Mr. Randal Alderman, the theatre manager at Drury Lane.
He was a handsome man who worked hard and expected those who worked for him to work just as hard. Beth hadn’t minded the hard work or the collaboration to create the set designs. It had been exciting to watch their plans turn into reality. She really liked Mr. Alderman. He had been kind to hire her as a set painter. She’d had no practical experience, yet he hired her anyway. He’d gifted her with two tickets to the play, Romeo and Juliet, as a reward for the work she’d done to bring the play to life. Beth had to admit that she really enjoyed working on the sets. It was an aspect of art she’d never considered before.
Beth ran her gloved hand across the smooth leather of Mr. Alderman’s carriage. It was surprisingly soft. Well-sprung and comfortable, the carriage picked its way through traffic to Drury Lane and the theatre. “Isn’t this nice, Mother? It was so kind of Mr. Alderman to lend us his carriage for the trip. This is so much better than taking a hack, don’t you think?”
“Very nice, considering its owner. I had no idea Mr. Alderman had the money to afford such luxury, but he is nothing to Langston.”
Beth fought the urge to roll her eyes at her mother. Since the day she’d brought home the news that they had tickets for tonight’s performance, her mother had been a snob about the entire thing. Randal Alderman worked for a living, but from the evidence of this coach, he did well for himself. But he didn’t have land nor did he have a title: the two things her mother deemed most important. She wished she could afford to live in the same dream world her mother resided in, but reality was cold and harsh and had a month-long deadline.
“Do you think we shall see any of our old friends?”
Do you mean the ones that quit calling when we had to move to the other side of town? Beth thought it but she’d never say it to her mother. Sir Charles Bishop, painter of royalty, had ceased to exist in the eyes of society when he died. Another had taken his place. Mother had never given up hope that some of those people were her true friends.
Beth had no such hope. The blinders were ripped from her eyes with the first snub. “I doubt they will remember us, Mother. It’s been several years since we moved in society.”
“If you had only married Langston.”
“Mother, stop,” Beth snapped. “I’m not going to spend the entire evening rehashing something that did not take place.”
“You are so like your father. Always wanting to do what is right and proper. In my day, I would have forced his hand.”
The disappointment in Lady Bishop’s voice had the desired effect of stirring up the huge pot of guilt that was never very far. A pot her mother took great pleasure in stirring up on a regular basis. Most days she could push the guilt and frustration deep and carry on. Her work at the theatre and her friends there helped. She forced a bright smile. “Let’s focus on the present and enjoy the play.”
“No one goes to the theatre to see the play, Elizabeth. They go to be seen. There’s a good chance that Langston will be there and you must make the most of it.”
“Mother, please give this up.”
“You should not have to work so very hard, Beth. You should be married. You should have children of your own, not slaving in some dank cave behind a theatre consorting with people who are so beneath you.”
Beth straightened, her hands fisting in her gown. “I will not have you berating my friends at the theatre especially when one has been so gracious as to give us this time together. If this is to be the conversation tonight, then I would rather be home.”
Lady Bishop’s eyes swelled with tears and she looked away from Beth and out the window. A condemning silence, so loud it echoed in Beth’s ears as she shrank back into the seat. Damn. She refused to apologize, especially for the truth. Her mother had been living with the idea that someone was going to come to their rescue, marry Beth, and take them away from the hardships they now suffered. Beth had no such illusions. Those dreams were dashed when Beth found the job at the theatre.
Her mother needed to deal with reality.
The carriage pulled up to the theatre. Gas lights chased away the shadows at the entrance as crowds of beautifully dressed people stepped out of their carriages and made their way into the theatre. Beth’s heart raced, she fiddled with her skirts, more excited than she’d been in a long time. Even she had to admit that it felt good to dress nice, have her hair done. She felt pretty for the first time in a long time.
A footman opened the carriage door and assisted Lady Bishop onto the sidewalk. Beth gripped his hand as she stepped out taking in the flashes of color of the ladies’ dresses contrasted against the black coats of most of the men. The contrasts of light and dark fascinated her and she itched for her sketchbook.
“Miss Bishop, Mr. Alderman asked that I assist you to your seat.”
Beth looked up at the voice and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Carter. How is your wife?”
He grinned. “She is well, thank you, ma’am.”
“Mr. Carter, may I present my mother, Lady Bishop. Mother, Mr. Carter is the gentleman who makes sure I get home safe at night.”
Lady Bishop nodded her head in acknowledgement and went back to scanning the crowd.
Beth’s cheeks warmed. These were her friends. She shot an apologetic glance to Mr. Carter then followed him into the theatre with her mother on her arm. Finely dressed people funneled up the stairs to the
ir boxes. Footmen with trays of champagne floated through the crowds. The theatre would be full tonight. Beth smiled in pleasure.
Mr. Carter led them up the staircase on the left side of the theatre to the first level of boxes that lined the area around the gallery. He stopped and pushed a curtain aside. “Enjoy the play, Lady Bishop, Miss Bishop.”
“Thank you,” Beth said as her mother ignored the man. There was no point in reprimanding her mother. The curtain fell back into place behind her as she followed her mother to the first row of seating in the box. The box would hold at least ten people and was smaller than many of the boxes reserved for peers. Beth took her place by her mother and looked onto the stage. They were just even with the stage on the left side. “Isn’t this nice, Mother?”
“I can’t see the entire stage.”
It was dark enough in the box that Beth could roll her eyes. She wanted to thank Mr. Alderman personally for the tickets, but feared her mother’s cold reaction. This was a very generous gift. Beth placed a gloved hand on the edge of the balcony wall and leaned out to look at the throngs of people who filed into the gallery. There was an excitement in the air as the crowd readied itself for the performance. Gaslights danced along the edges of the stage and the chandelier glittered above them. The lights wouldn’t be dimmed so not only could she see who was attending, the actors could see the audience. Beth had watched many of the rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet, but had never seen the play in full costume. She looked forward to Sally’s performance as Juliet, knowing the lady would be brilliant.
“Isn’t that Lady Hamilton and her daughter?” Lady Bishop asked.
“Where?”
“She is in Stafford’s box, across the way there”
Beth followed her mother’s direction. “Yes, I believe that is Lady Hamilton. I didn’t know you were acquainted with her.”
“We came out at the same time. She married Hamilton just after her first season. It looks as if Langston is there as well.”
The Art of Seduction (Kings of Industry) Page 3