by Nancy Carson
Now he thought the same of her.
All the time she had known John Gibson she had been aware of a warm affinity between them. She liked him, admired him, continually found herself yearning for his company, which she found not only inspiring but soothing as well. Perhaps she was in love with him. Maybe she’d been in love with him from the outset but unable to admit it to herself, unable to allow such a stunning self-confession when it could generate such monumental consequences.
As her silent weeping subsided she lay awake, her thoughts becoming more wrapped up in John Gibson. She knew only that she craved his company again. She wanted so intensely to tell him what had happened, to know what he thought. She had to let him know that Lawson had confiscated Blossom and that he believed they were having an affair. At the very least, she should forewarn him.
She got up from her bed and peered through the bedroom curtains at the night sky. Over to her right, she saw a glimmer of suffused light in the east; dawn was beginning to peel back the first layer of darkness. On impulse, she dressed herself, pinned up her hair and crept onto the landing. The door to Lawson’s bedroom was ajar and she heard his snores. Stealthily, she tiptoed downstairs, put on her shoes, her coat and let herself out quietly.
The chill in that October dawn made her shiver, but walking briskly would warm her. She did not venture up Himley Road. Logic told her that the way she’d always had to travel to Windmill Street in the gig was the long way round. She was sure there had to be a short cut – a footpath. She took the first left hand turn she came to – Dibdale Street – and, as she reached its crown, she could make out the dark chimney stacks of the London Fields Fender and Fire Iron Works ahead of her, shadowy obelisks pointing into a leaden sky.
She was warmer now and breathing harder from the exertion of the climb. She wondered what John would say when she knocked on the door and disturbed his sleep? Would he send her away, tell her he had no wish to be involved in her marital problems? She thought not but, even if he did, who could blame him?
Dawn was still just a meagre, diffused easing of the night but it was adequate to pick her way along the path that Dibdale Street had regressed into. When she reached the old mine another path joined from the right and she took it, realising it must lead directly onto Windmill Street. In only a minute, she was closing the front gate of the house that John was occupying.
She rapped on the front door with the iron knocker … and again. Presently she heard the scuff-scuff of footfalls, first on the stairs then on the quarry tiles of the hallway. The door opened a couple of inches and a bleary-eyed John Gibson peeped out, wearing a dressing gown.
‘Daisy!’ he said incredulously. ‘Come in, come in.’ He opened the door wide enough for her to enter and stood aside. ‘You’re the last person I expected to see tonight. What’s the matter?’
‘Oh, everything. I’m so sorry to have woken you, but I just had to come.’
‘I’ll light a fire and put a kettle on to boil.’ He led her through the passage into the scullery and lit a candle. ‘So what’s wrong?’
‘Just about everything.’ Daisy sighed profoundly. ‘It was Lawson who had Blossom and the gig snatched away. Where the poor mare is now I don’t know, but I do hope she’s being well looked after. He’d been drinking when he came home … We had an awful row.’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Your father must have told him I’d been sitting for you. He was furious, John … He struck me and … well … he thinks you and I are lovers …’
‘He thinks that?’
‘I’m afraid so. I’m so sorry. I’d give anything not to have dragged you into all this. You of all people.’
‘Oh, Daisy,’ he breathed, raking out the fire from yesterday. ‘Would that we were lovers … It would all be worth it.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said absently.
After a moment’s hesitation John turned to her and said, ‘Daisy, do you know what you said?’
‘What?’
‘You said, “Yes I know”. As if you agreed it would all be worth it.’
‘Did I?’
‘You did. Do you suppose that’s what you really meant?’
‘I suppose so … If there was something between us, I suppose it would all be worth it.’
‘Well, I wish we were lovers, you and I, Daisy. God knows I’ve thought of little else since the moment I first set eyes on you. Of course, I realise it can never be. I only torment myself by harbouring such fantasies.’
‘But why can’t it be?’
He shrugged. ‘Because you’re married.’
‘Oh, I’m married all right.’ She uttered a little self-mocking laugh. ‘But it’s the middle of the night and look where I am. Am I in his bed? No. I’m here in your scullery. This is where I instinctively came.’
‘Where would you rather be?’
She looked into his eyes intently. ‘Do you want the truth? Can you take the truth?’
‘Only ever the truth, Daisy.’
‘I would rather be here … With you.’
‘Do you mean that?’
‘Oh, yes …’
He sat down on his rickety chair and put his head in his hands. ‘Do you understand what you are saying, Daisy?’
She knelt down before him and took his hands tenderly. He raised his head and she saw the anguish, the doubt in his eyes. ‘I believe you said, John, that if we were lovers all this upheaval in my marriage might be worth it, if I am not mistaken?’
‘You’re not mistaken.’
‘And I agree with you.’
‘Do you mean you would also like us to be lovers, Daisy?’
‘Aren’t we already? Don’t we already feel so much for each other? Oh, John, the fact that I’ve come to you at this hour … I’ve only this night been able to admit it to myself, but I feel what you feel … From the first time we met I’ve felt this … this pull. I feel as if I’ve known you all my life, I feel that we’ve already been lovers a long time … A long time ago … Does that sound silly?’
He shook his head gravely. ‘Oh, Daisy …’
She could sense his doubt, some innate fear he was having difficulty in overcoming, inhibiting any real commitment.
‘What, John? Tell me …’
He held her hands more tightly and she felt him trembling with emotion. ‘I’m so afraid, Daisy …’
‘Afraid of what?’
‘That for all your tenderness and heightened emotions now, you would forsake me for him in the end. He’ll win you back, I’ve no doubt. I couldn’t stand that … Not again. Not after Fernanda.’
‘Please don’t think of me being as fickle as that,’ Daisy said gently. ‘If I make a promise I keep it. If Lawson hadn’t been unfaithful in the first place I wouldn’t be here with you now, whatever feelings for you I might secretly have harboured. I would have been faithful to him. As it is – the way I see it – he’s relinquished all claim on me by his own infidelity, and I on him. So I feel justified in making a commitment to you … if you want me … a commitment I’ll stand by through thick and thin, for as long as you want me.’
‘Except that you’re a married woman and still his property. So not legally free.’
‘What’s legality got to do with it? It’s what’s in my heart, not what’s written on some legal document. Anyway, if Lawson thinks I’m being unfaithful he’ll divorce me. I’m certain of it. It would do his ego no good at all to be married to a woman who preferred to be with somebody else.’
‘I suppose not,’ John said quietly.
‘Anyway, there’s only one thing that might change my mind …’
‘And what’s that?’ He saw a glimmer of humour in her eyes and wondered what havoc she was about to wreak on his fragile emotions.
‘If I don’t like the way you kiss …’
Suddenly he got up and rushed to the sink. From the cupboard he took a tin of tooth powder and a toothbrush and began frantically cleaning his teeth.
Daisy laughed. ‘Why are yo
u doing that?’
‘Because I don’t want you kissing me when I’ve got a dingy mouth. You might not relish it. It might change your mind.’
‘You might feel the same about me.’
‘Never.’
He dried his mouth with a towel and she stood facing him. They stepped into each other’s arms and their lips met, tentatively at first then, after the first pleasurable contact, more determinedly. It was clear to Daisy that John lacked Lawson’s experience but his parted lips felt perfectly, pleasantly at home on hers. After a long, lingering kiss they broke off and he looked questioningly into her eyes, desperately seeking her approval.
‘Well?’
‘All I can taste is tooth powder,’ she teased, smiling happily. ‘But I’ll give you ten out of ten for pleasantness of feel.’
He laughed with relief. ‘You must think me such a fool, Daisy. Honestly, I can’t believe my luck. I’ll wake up soon and realise this has all been a dream.’
‘It’s no dream, John,’ she said contentedly. ‘I’m so glad I came. I hadn’t the least notion this would happen. I just had to warn you, let you know, that Lawson believed we were … you know …’
‘And now we are.’
‘Yes. And now we are.’
‘Except that …’ he said with uncertainty. ‘We haven’t … you know …’
‘Oh, John … I have no qualms about going to bed with you …’ She laughed, half embarrassed. ‘But let’s not make a great plan for it. Let it just happen in an unguarded moment …’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. Then he went to add something else, but hesitated.
‘What?’ she asked, sensing his further uncertainty.
‘Nothing … I must have no doubts. You said so.’
She smiled and gave him an affectionate squeeze. ‘I think I should go now, John. I crept out of the house. I think I should creep back in before Lawson gets up.’
‘You said you don’t sleep with him any more.’
‘It’s true, I don’t. I sleep in another room. But if I’m out of the house I won’t be there to get up. Sometimes we meet at the breakfast table. He’ll notice if I’m not there and he’ll most likely guess where I am.’
He nodded his understanding. ‘Let me give you a key to this house. You never know when you might need it. Come whenever you want. Never stay in his house with him if there promises to be trouble.’ He rummaged in a drawer and found the key. ‘I’ll always leave the bolt off from now on.’
‘Thank you.’
She kissed him again. It was lingering and meaningful, setting the seal on their new relationship.
‘I’ll come to you later,’ she promised.
Chapter 19
Lawson left the house that morning not having seen his wife, and unaware of her nocturnal visit to John Gibson. He was certain, however, that there was something sordid going on between them. He asked young Albert to tack up Docker and prepare the cabriolet, then left the house for one of his properties, where he knew he would get some comfort and some sympathy.
This house was in Downing Street, close enough to the centre of the town to be convenient, far enough away to afford discretion. It was large, with seven bedrooms, all elaborately furnished. Gas was laid on and there was running water in the bathroom. Downstairs there was a parlour, a drawing room, a small, intimate dining room laid out for beguiling entertainment, and a scullery. Lawson employed four staff there, two of whom were maids, one a cook and, the fourth, a woman he had known some time, whom he could trust.
In an act calculated to deceive, Lawson drew the cabriolet to a halt outside the Malt Shovel Inn in Tower Street, which stood in the lee of the old castle high on the hill above, and walked to Downing Street. When he arrived at the house, he rapped smartly on the front door. A good-looking young woman with a slender figure and sleek, fair hair piled up on her head answered.
‘Lawson! You look terrible.’
‘Thanks for the compliment. That’s all I need to buck up my self-confidence.’
He stepped inside and the young woman closed the door behind him. It was warm and comfortable in there. He made his way to the parlour and sat on a chair with a well-padded seat, at a table draped in a deep red chenille cover.
‘Shall I order you some coffee?’
‘Something stronger. Bring me a bottle of whisky … And bring a glass for yourself. I hate drinking alone. I have enough drinking alone at home. No wonder I’m seldom there. I want to talk to you.’
‘Giving you trouble, is she? You should have married me. We understand each other.’
He nodded morosely and the young woman left the comfortably furnished room. She came back with a tray on which stood a bottle of whisky, two tumblers and a jug of water, and poured a measure of whisky into each glass.
‘Water?’
‘No, straight.’
She handed it to him. ‘You should have water with it at this time in a morning. It’ll rot your gullet drinking it straight.’
‘Don’t you start as well. You’re sounding like her.’
The woman diluted her own drink and sipped it. ‘Have you had any breakfast?’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve eaten. Alone again, of course.’
‘Well don’t sound so sorry for yourself. She did catch you rogering Caitlin. Did you expect her to applaud you?’
He sighed heavily. ‘I just thought she might have been a bit more tolerant, living the life of Riley as she does. Lord above, all men have their mistresses. It doesn’t mean they’re going to leave their wives. In any case, variety is the spice of life. A man needs a bit of fresh from time to time.’
‘If it was only from time to time, maybe some women would turn a blind eye. I wonder you haven’t caught the clap or the pox.’
‘I’m very careful about such things, Fanny,’ he said evenly. ‘As you well know.’
‘So what’s she been up to, Lawson, this wife of yours?’
‘I found out she’s been modelling for Alexander Gibson’s son. God knows how much time she’s spent up there with him. It’s obvious they’re having an affair. And him such a weedy little bugger.’
‘You’re jealous.’
‘I’m hopping bloody mad, that’s what. Makes me look such a fool. But I shall get even. Mark my words. I know her Achilles heel.’
‘Why be vindictive?’ said Fanny Lampitt. ‘Can’t you just walk away and admit it was all a mistake? I don’t know why you married her in the first place.’
‘Because I fell in love with her, silly sod that I am. It was love at first sight. Being vindictive, I can’t help. It’s in my nature. I can’t stand to be beaten. Nor can I stand the thought of somebody else having her.’
‘The trouble with you is, you’ve got a fetish for maids. As soon as I saw you dancing with Daisy last New Year’s Eve at the Cooksons’ I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.’
‘I didn’t know she was the housekeeper then,’ he said defensively.
‘I did. At least I could tell she was a servant. When we arrived she was hovering like a servant, supervising the maids who were taking the hats and coats and giving out the welcoming drinks. I noticed her even if you didn’t. And I could tell what she was, despite her elegant dress.’
‘I only had eyes for you then.’
‘Liar! So … if she’s having it off with Alexander’s son – Alexander was here yesterday, by the way, with that young piece he’s been tailing … Calls herself Mrs Jones.’
‘Mrs Jones again, eh? Interesting. Which room did he have?’
‘His usual. The big one on the front.’
‘Did he pay?’
‘Of course. I always get the money off him before he goes up.’
‘Good girl.’ He took a slug of whisky and put the glass back on the table.
‘So … to get back to your little wife … I was about to say, if she’s having it off with Alexander’s son, it don’t say much for your bedtime endeavours.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my bedtime en
deavours, Fanny, as you know well enough. I’ve put many a smile on your face.’
‘Not lately, you haven’t.’
‘No, not since you and Robert Cookson started having a fling. I’ve no intention of following him anywhere. You never know where he’s been. You never know what he might have picked up along the way.’
‘Oh, and I thought it was because of Daisy.’
‘I’ve sold her horse and gig, you know. As soon as Alexander told me what was afoot I had it snatched. That’s peeved her as much as anything. She loved that mare. Loved it more than she loved me, I’m certain.’
‘So are you going to divorce her?’
‘Why? So that she can marry John Gibson? Besides, divorcing her could cost me upwards of six hundred pounds, plus dragging the witnesses to London for God knows how long. Never. Anyway, she’ll come back to me all repentant, I know that much.’
‘And you’ll take her back?’ Fanny asked.
‘Why not? I want her back. I still love her.’
‘But if you love her, why do you keep going off with other women?’
‘Oh, you know me, Fanny … I can’t help myself, but there’s no harm in me … You know I’m always surrounded by women, you know I’m addicted to them. I only have to look at a woman and, if I fancy her, I don’t rest till I’ve had her. And they all submit in the end.’
He emptied his glass and Fanny poured him another.
‘So why do you love her, Lawson? You’ve had better.’
‘No, Fanny, you’re wrong. I’ve never had better. I’ve met women of higher class, some of them just as beautiful, but never one better. I know she was only a servant but she’s the cream, I tell you. She’s got such a lovely nature. She’s straight and trustworthy. I need her.’
‘She’s having an affair with John Gibson. She can’t be that trustworthy.’
‘Ah, but maybe I’ve driven her to it. If only she’d never found out about Caitlin, everything would still be all right. Still, she’ll have got even now. We can start again with a better understanding of each other.’