“I doubt your Mrs Gedge would take kindly to that. Wouldn’t she call it stealing?”
Faith took a quick, surprised breath and glanced at Charity. Her best friend at Madame Chambon’s had never before resorted to unkind digs. But perhaps Charity was simply reminding Faith of the very real dangers of taking what Faith honestly believed had been promised; only to have it called stealing. It’s how Faith had found herself deposited at Madame Chambon’s, instead of before a magistrate.
“You will get your macaroon, Charity. And it won’t be stealing. I shall simply be practising what Mrs Gedge has instructed I be taught these past three years.” Faith smiled sweetly. “Deception. Taking what I want without the other party realising they’ve surrendered what they had not intended giving. Inveigling my way into their good offices.” Immediately, she felt overwhelmed by the unknown. “Do you think I’m up to the task, Charity?”
“Lord, Faith, I’m not used to hearing you talk like that, and it’s unnerving.” Charity stepped in front of Faith, her eyes skimming the length of her ensemble, from the demure neckline to the simple and depressingly plain skirt. Faith had expected to be dressed with all the flamboyance exhibited by Charity’s black and scarlet polonaise with its daringly low neckline and whisper of a sleeve. “You always sound like you know exactly how to get what you want.”
“It’s what I pretend. To Madame and the other girls.” Faith squeezed her eyes shut briefly and flicked away a tear. “Well, she might think I’m beholden to her because I have nowhere else to go and because Mrs Gedge pays her to keep me, but I swear to you that there are some things I won’t stoop to, regardless of whether it’s in Mrs Gedge’s grand scheme for me.”
Charity looked at her enquiringly.
It had seemed foolishly naïve to voice this determination in a bawdy house and to a friend who, every night, suffered what Faith was about to declare she’d never do.
“I will never go with a man I do not love. Yes! You might smile, Charity, but I have learning, and I have fine clothes, and I know how to behave like a lady. I’m cleverer than Madame Chambon thinks, and I am not afraid of Mrs Gedge anymore.” Her bosom heaved. Now that she was voicing her most fervently held innermost thoughts, there was no turning back. “No Charity, I swear it! I will not be taken by a man I do not love.”
“Ah Faith, now sit down again and let me repin that errant curl at the back.” Charity’s tone was as light as her hands were on Faith’s shoulders as she resettled Faith upon the stool of her dressing table. “I believe that’s what Anastasia said too, which got the fire up Madame’s backside and all but condemned Anastasia to the very worst next gentleman. You be careful who you say such things to.”
Faith glanced at the keyhole. They’d been foolish words and too loudly declared. What Charity said was true.
“How is Anastasia now?” she asked, biting her lip. “I haven’t seen her for a few days.”
“That’s because she’s not here anymore. Didn’t you know?” Gently, Charity began to massage Faith’s neck. “Once her bruises had faded, Madame said she couldn’t risk Anastasia ruining the reputation of a house to which gentlemen came expecting the loving comfort for which Madame Chambon’s is renowned. Now, you look beautiful, Faith. And I’m sure Mrs Gedge will think so too.” She smiled and touched Faith’s cheek, saying with genuine kindness, “And so too will the handsome gentleman Mrs Gedge has lined up for you. Indeed, I believe he’ll be so kind and gallant that you’ll fall instantly in love with him, and he with you, and soon you’ll be galloping into the sunset together to some gilded castle where you’ll enjoy a life of ease and domestic joy for the rest of your days.” She sighed wistfully. “And I will never hear from you again, but I will go peacefully to my grave knowing that at least you found happiness, Faith.”
Chapter 3
“A good thing you know how to balance your appetite for the good things in life without spoiling your pretty figure, Faith.” Mrs Gedge’s American accent seemed more pronounced when she was in fine spirits. She smiled at Faith across the damask-covered dining table, before taking a sip of Rhenish. Her violet ostrich feathers, coloured to match the silk polonaise she wore, reminded Faith of bowing acolytes. Like the other women in the room, she exuded wealth and privilege. Faith felt dowdy in comparison. She’d truly believed Mrs Gedge was going to dress her up to the nines to show off her protégé. “I was a beauty in my day,” Mrs Gedge went on. “I worked hard at it, and I had many marriage offers.”
A stroll through Hyde Park and an exhibition had followed their afternoon tea at Claridges, and now they were seated in a restaurant with hand-painted ceilings, attended by obsequious waiters while an orchestra played, partly visible through the sumptuous palm fronds that screened their table.
Mrs Gedge put down her knife and fork and sent a considered look about her. “The power and wealth of the gentlemen in this room could tilt the world’s axis if they only knew how to work together.” Her nostrils flared. “If they only harnessed it for good rather than expended their energies on satisfying their personal desires. I brought you here for a reason, you know. Because someone of interest was going to be dining here. Do you recognise anyone?”
Faith blinked at the abruptness of the question. She also put down her knife and fork and looked carefully at the faces of the dozen or so gentlemen dining with other men or, occasionally, a woman.
“Several,” she said, returning to her food. The sole with chive sauce was delicious and not the kind of fare she generally enjoyed. The expense and effort to which Madame went to ensure the trappings of her sumptuous establishment and the outward appearance of the girls who represented it were only skin deep. Therefore, dining on something other than potatoes and gravy with the occasional piece of gristle made it worth pandering to Mrs Gedge.
“I trust you would not be recognised?” There was steel behind the question, but Faith knew that being kept hidden from the gentlemen who visited Madame Chambon’s girls was an important clause in the contract Mrs Gedge had with the brothel keeper.
“Of course not.” Faith dabbed delicately at her lips with her napkin and smiled again at her benefactress. “I recognise a great many people here in fact. That gentlemen dining with his mother over there is one of Charity’s most regular clients—”
“How do you know she’s his mother?”
“Because I used to clean the grate and make up the fire in her bedchamber when she was a guest at Wildwood Lodge. She’s a friend of Lady Carmody’s. That red hair is hard to miss.” Faith hesitated. “Do you think she’ll come over and say hello to you?”
Mrs Gedge shuddered. “Lord, I’ve worked too hard to ensure I’ll not be recognised these past few years. Like you. No, I no longer care to recall those days at Wildwood Lodge.” She picked at her food, sad and no longer the hard, determined woman Faith had always known. “Tell me, Faith, do you miss your friends from Wildwood Lodge?” Mrs Gedge’s laboured breathing seemed due to more than just the stress put on her corset by the large quantity of food and wine she’d just consumed. Her mouth trembled. “Do you resent me for taking you away from there? I trust you’ve had no communication with anyone from your old life. If you have, now is the time to tell me.”
“You know my only friends are the girls at Madame Chambon’s.” Faith resented the intrusion and the suspicion in her benefactress’s voice, but she spoke the truth. “You made sure of that,” she added, spearing a Brussels sprout.
“For your own good, Faith. I made you a lady. I think some sacrifices have been worth the position in which you now find yourself.”
Faith offered the requisite smile, tilting her head to regard Mrs Gedge with a level stare and, in the process, intercepted the interested glance of a young man across the room through the fronds of the Kentish palm to her right. He was dining with an older gentleman and a woman. Parents, perhaps, in the way they communicated an expectation of filial obedience as they now rose, gathering gloves and cane.
The young gentleman
got to his feet more slowly, his eyes lingering on Faith. Though surprised, and somewhat unnerved, she did not look away as he brushed back the heavy hair that flopped over his brow, all the while keeping his eyes firmly on her. His lips curved slightly as he made some signal to his companions that he was about to follow them.
Faith returned his level stare. Give nothing away. That’s what she’d been taught. Yet show that you have noticed him.
She was brought back to the present by Mrs Gedge’s thoughtful tone. “My, my, I did not expect this.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Faith clasped her hands in her lap and returned Mrs Gedge’s look with unusual defiance across the table.
Surprise still lurked in the other woman’s expression before Mrs Gedge laughed softly. “My dear Faith, you were magnificent.” She sat back, her bosom heaving. “That young man…you don’t know him surely?”
“I’ve never seen him in my life.”
“Did you think him handsome?”
“Very.”
“Why, pray?”
Faith shrugged. “I like an athletic physique. And he had nice eyes. He looked…kind.”
“Kind?!” The word snapped like a whip across the table, and Faith felt her mouth drop open.
Before another beat had passed, Mrs Gedge had recovered herself. A slow smile curved her lips as she said slowly, “Why, Faith, this is a miracle. I cannot believe how easy this is going to be. You did not even try.” She took another sip of wine, then announced, “Tomorrow night you are going to your first soiree.”
Faith jerked her head up.
“I had not thought you ready, but it’s important to strike while the iron is hot, as they say.” Faith sent her a narrow look and wondered if Mrs Gedge had drunk too much. “I will not accompany you, Faith, of course. No, Lady Vernon will do that. A good thing she’s recovered her health for it’ll be a busy few weeks.” Businesslike, Mrs Gedge went on, “She will accompany you to a great many functions: balls, soirees, picnics – and she will report back to me, you understand?”
Mrs Gedge finished her wine and put her knife and fork together. Faith waited. This was not some reward, she knew. She was expected to perform, though she wasn’t sure, exactly, how. Surprisingly, tingles in the tips of her fingers were echoed by a prickling sensation on the backs of her legs, and her breath was suddenly shallow. Fear? Anticipation? Excitement?
Hope.
In the end, she had to ask. “Is this…to be my purpose, Mrs Gedge?”
A flash of triumph brightened the other woman’s eye. “Yes, Faith. For three years, you’ve been trained to behave like a young lady, and I’ve asked nothing in return.” Mrs Gedge had positioned herself so that she could not be observed by the company currently leaving; however, she could clearly see that the young man had stopped at the double doors for a final look over his shoulder at Faith.
Looking from the handsome young man with the athletic physique and the kind eyes to Faith, she said softly, “I have waited a long time for this but…tomorrow you will begin to repay me.”
Chapter 4
A strong smell of boiled cabbage permeated Lady Vernon’s musty lodgings.
The hackney carriage had dropped her off in the cobbled street in front of the narrow terrace house, and having been ushered into an unused bedchamber, Faith’s earlier excitement was being sorely tested.
She stared with dismay at the simple gown Lady Vernon held up.
She was hardly going to make the grand entrance she’d envisaged in this plain, pale-cream silk ensemble trimmed with pink bows.
“Very virginal, isn’t it, Faith? Not what you’re used to regarding as up to the mark in the household you inhabit.” Lady Vernon’s fingers pinched Faith’s flesh as she turned her around and, without ceremony, began to unbutton the back of her dress. “No, you fancy the tawdry, I daresay, because even if you’ve not yet had the pleasure of a man, you’re still no better than those other girls you live with.”
“Lady Vernon, don’t you look just the thing!” Mrs Gedge, who’d just been admitted by the parlourmaid, interrupted the unwise response Faith was about to deliver. The American woman looked, in contrast to Lady Vernon, quite animated as she took in the gown that clothed the noblewoman’s frail frame. Perhaps it had been up to the mark a decade previously, but it had been obviously refashioned into a poor copy of the day’s fashions. The feathers in Lady Vernon’s headdress looked as tired as the grey-faced old woman who wore them.
“And Faith, you know what is expected of you, don’t you?”
Faith nodded as Lady Vernon peeled her blue day dress over her shoulders and down her hips, then began to button up the cream silk once Faith had stepped into it. She was so disappointed she thought she might cry. The previous week, when the dressmaker had fitted her with the calico toile, Faith had been led to believe the figure-hugging ensemble was going to be in bold, eye-catching colours.
“And you, Lady Vernon?” Mrs Gedge began to circle.
“I know exactly what is expected, Madam.” Lady Vernon’s tone was grim. “I will not let Faith out of my sight.”
“And she is to come back here tonight. I don’t want to run the risk of her being followed. In fact…” Mrs Gedge sent them both a considering look. “Faith will stay here for the next few weeks. Lady Vernon, you will arrange for her belongings to be brought around and you, Faith, are to have nothing to do with any of the girls at Madame Chambon’s from now on.” She rubbed her hands as if in anticipation of something very pleasurable while Faith reassessed her idea of success. In the short term, success simply meant extricating herself from the smell of mould and boiled cabbage that pervaded Lady Vernon’s premises. She didn’t think she could bear it a moment longer.
“Whatever you wish, Mrs Gedge.”
Meanwhile, Mrs Gedge was reaching forward to take a tendril of Faith’s golden hair. “You were blessed, child,” she murmured. “Blessed like few others of your squalid upbringing. I wish you to turn expectation on its head. That’s what I wish for you tonight.”
“And…who am I to play?”
The question lingered in the damp air, clearly a source of amusement to Mrs Gedge.
“Who are you to play?” Mrs Gedge laughed softly and turned to Lady Vernon. “Who is this shy beauty, Lady Vernon? Show me how well you know your part.”
Lady Vernon inclined her head and intoned in a dry, unemotional voice, “I’d like to introduce my impoverished goddaughter rescued from an untenable situation in the north of the country. Well connected by birth but penniless.” She looked at Faith almost with dislike. “A penniless beauty.”
Faith ran her hands down the princess-line gown and glanced again at her reflection. She had to admit that there was an elegant simplicity to the unadorned cream silk. A tiny row of pink bows down the front of her gown and one large pink bow at the back of the swathed bustle would make her stand out from the crowd, she knew. A simple cross on a chain at her throat completed the ensemble.
* * *
It was the society event Faith had imagined but certainly not the grand debut.
She and Lady Vernon stood out for the very fact that they stepped across the threshold into the dazzling ballroom and richly garbed crowd as, clearly, the poor relations.
“Welcome, Lady Vernon. And who is the young lady?”
Their hostess for the evening, Lady Griffin, seemed pleasant and welcoming. Even sympathetic when Lady Vernon explained she was taking her goddaughter to a few places during her first visit to the metropolis.
“I agreed to sponsor the girl to the extent my limited resources will allow.” Lady Vernon sighed as if Faith were the greatest cross to bear. But then Lady Vernon seemed to regard any effort on her part as an imposition. “She’s the eldest of ten.” She sniffed. “Daughters, mainly, so I’m doing what I can for the family. If Faith is not successful in the few weeks she has in the metropolis, I’ll be sending her to Yorkshire where she’s to take up a post as governess.” She sniffed again. “It d
oes seem a shame to see her wasted. Such a biddable girl, too.” Her brow creased as she added, almost in wonder, “Not the slightest bit vain. She’d suit a young clerk with prospects, perhaps.” Lady Vernon smiled hopefully at her hostess.
* * *
On the other side of the room, Crispin Westaway was trying hard to attend to his aunt, who was waxing lyrical on the play she’d attended the previous night. However, his gaze kept straying to the unusual pair speaking to their hostess beneath the Goya painting. He’d barely been able to believe his eyes when they’d alighted on the vision from the restaurant the night before.
Now he couldn’t wait for an opportunity to address her in person.
“The Prince of Wales is causing his poor mother headaches again,” he heard his aunt confide in her nasal manner to her friend, Lady Braxsted. “Have you heard, Crispin? What a trial one’s children can be.”
Crispin didn’t care what the Prince of Wales was up to, but he was happy to corroborate his aunt, Lady Pymble’s mild outrage at the latest scandal while his gaze drifted to the humpbacked dowager in the far corner who seemed to be shielding her charge.
The girl’s hair was like a halo of sensuous golden light, cascading down her back in fashionable ringlets, her small fringe highlighting her elfin face. He’d never seen anyone so lovely, and his fingers itched to grasp his paintbrush. It would be a challenge to capture the wistful half smile the girl directed at the woman when her companion made some remark.
“Excuse me, who is that young woman over there?” he interrupted, causing his gossiping aunt and her friend to stop midsentence and look at him in surprise. They squinted in the direction in which he pointed and shook their heads.
“Never seen her in my life,” Lady Braxted said, “though it looks like Lady Vernon is sponsoring her tonight.” She gave a snide laugh. “Probably did it for money.”
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