“Yes, I know it,” Perry said earnestly. “I wouldn’t ask except that Judith is a friend of ours. We can’t have her made into a human sacrifice.”
“Dear me! You are growing quite poetic. Now tell me, is the lady herself happy with her choice?”
“She is, but, you see, she is an innocent. This clever scoundrel has deceived her.”
“You seem very sure of that. Let us hope that you are mistaken. Leave it with me, Perry. You will forgive me, but I must rejoin my guests.”
Perry was not entirely satisfied, but was forced to be content with his brother’s promise of discretion. He decided to add a last clincher to his argument.
“We ain’t mistaken,” he muttered. “Never think that Truscott visits the stews for charitable work. He spent the night at Seven Dials.”
The Earl raised a quizzical eyebrow. “As a well-known parson, would you expect him to visit the more fashionable ladies of the town?”
He moved away, leaving Perry feeling like a foolish schoolboy. His brother might be right. It was possible that Truscott visited the slums simply to slake his lusts. In a man of the cloth it was not admirable, but it was understandable.
Perry himself had had high-flyers in his keeping before his marriage. Since then, he hadn’t even been tempted. Compared with his ravishing Elizabeth, all other women were pale shadows.
Now she returned to join him with a smile upon her lips.
“Need you have sacrificed my gown?” she teased.
“Is it ruined? I’m sorry, love—”
“Sorry about the gown, or sorry for attempting to deceive me?”
He gave a reluctant laugh as he tucked her arm through his. “Shall I ever be able to do that?”
“I doubt it. You need only have asked me to go away if you wished to speak to Frederick alone.”
“And would you have gone?”
“Only with the greatest reluctance.” The lovely flower-face smiled up at him. “I wanted to hear your secrets.”
“Secrets, my darling?”
“Yes, my darling. You have been big with news for at least two days. I think it time you shared it.”
“Trust me! You’ll hear the whole quite soon, I hope.” Taking her arm, he led her back into the ballroom to take part in a quadrille.
From across the room Elizabeth was soon aware that she was under scrutiny. She nodded pleasantly to her sister-in-law, who was sitting with Mrs Aveton.
Elizabeth looked for Judith, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. As the dance ended, she drew Perry towards the two ladies. Perry was surprised. Neither he nor his wife were favourites with these malicious gossips, although it was clear that they had both been under discussion.
Even as he bowed to the Countess and her friend, he found himself wondering at Elizabeth’s object. She was more than capable of issuing a crushing setdown, but to his astonishment she favoured Mrs Aveton with a dazzling smile.
“Are we not to have the pleasure of Judith’s company this evening?” she asked sweetly.
“Madam, you saw her earlier today, I believe. Did she not explain that she isn’t well?”
“On the contrary, we thought her looking better than in recent months.”
“Quite possibly. Her forthcoming marriage must be a source of joy to her. However, the dear child has been overtaxing her strength with all her visiting, which I consider quite unnecessary. Tonight she has the headache…”
Elizabeth murmured a brief expression of sympathy to which Mrs Aveton paid no attention. Instead, she turned to the Countess.
“It is no bad thing that Judith was unable to be here this evening, your ladyship. Her way of life will be very different after she is wed.”
Perry was quick to remove his wife before she could speak the words which he guessed were already upon her lips.
“Let’s find Dan,” he suggested as they moved away. “He knows few people here. He must be feeling out of things…”
As he expected, Dan was looking disconsolate.
“I thought she’d be here tonight,” he murmured. “Did that creature forbid her to attend?”
“Nothing of the kind,” Elizabeth said briskly. “Judith has the headache, that is all.”
“Is it serious?” His voice quickened with alarm. “Could it be a fever, or worse?”
“Great heavens, Dan, you saw Judith yourself today. Was she not looking positively blooming?”
“She was…at least until Truscott arrived. Perhaps he has upset her.” Dan’s face grew dark with anger.
“Unlikely! He’ll take good care to keep on good terms with her.”
Perry’s prediction wasn’t much consolation, and for the rest of the evening Dan’s thoughts were with his stricken love.
Judith herself was feeling wretched. The Reverend Truscott’s visit to her friends had not been a success in spite of his assurance otherwise.
Always sensitive to tension, she was well aware that the atmosphere at the house in Mount Street had changed with his arrival. Until then it had been the happiest of gatherings, and in playing that childish game she had forgotten all her present worries.
The next hour had been an agony, and she’d been on pins in case the volatile Elizabeth should be tempted to speak her mind. Beside her, Dan too had been bristling with antagonism. Only a promise not to distress her had ensured their civility.
She would not put them in that position again. Her visits to Mount Street must stop. They were naught but self-indulgence, although to be in Dan’s company again was rather an exquisite torture.
In accepting Charles Truscott’s offer she had sealed her own fate, believing that her decision was for the best. Now she felt ashamed, suspecting that she herself was playing with fire. Was she guilty of deceit and double-dealing? He did not deserve such treatment.
Tomorrow she would go to him, and ask to be given some useful work.
The decision cost her a sleepless night and many bitter tears. She couldn’t even be sure of the purity of her own motives. Had she made it simply because she knew beyond all doubt that Dan was lost to her for ever?
How cold he’d looked when he’d spoken of refusing charity, even when that charity might consist only of a recommendation from his highly placed connections to the unapproachable Lords of the Admiralty.
Judith had known then that even had he loved her, her fortune would have proved a far more insurmountable barrier to his pride than any previous opposition. He was lost to her, and she must face the truth.
With a heavy heart she rose next day and announced her intention to visit her betrothed.
“Well, miss, I’m glad to see that you are come to your senses at the last,” Mrs Aveton snapped. “As I told your precious friends last night, it is high time that you gave up all this gadding about. Most unsuitable for the wife of a man in holy orders—”
“Which friends were those, ma’am?”
“Have you so many? I refer to the Honourable Peregrine Wentworth and his wife…pert baggage that she is! I declare that I was ashamed to see the exhibition which they make of themselves. Why, the man never takes his eyes off her. He must be always holding her hand, or dancing with her…”
“She is very lovely. She is also his wife,” Judith observed quietly.
“One might hope that they would observe the proprieties. Amelia has no patience with them. She thinks it affectation.”
Judith was silent. There was little point in arguing.
“I must hope that you will not follow their example. I should not care to see you always hanging about your husband’s neck. Mr Truscott will not care for that, or to see you gazing at him like a mooncalf.”
“There is little danger of that,” Judith replied more sharply than she had intended.
Mrs Aveton stared at her. The girl was not improving. In these last few days there had been more than a hint of rebellion in her tone. She recalled Charles Truscott’s words, and did not pursue the matter, though she longed to do so.
Judith would soon be taught a
lesson, if she was any judge of men. Her days of balls, reviews and picnics were now over. She could hardly restrain her glee. Now Judith’s pride would take a tumble, and that cool reserve which she had always found so trying would be shattered for ever by the worthy Truscott.
Worthy? Her lip curled. He was little better than a common thief. She despised him, having taken his measure from their first meeting. What other man would have agreed to pay for her own good offices in helping to win his bride? She knew that her antagonism was returned, but it did not worry her. The preacher was useful. She would keep him to his part of their bargain.
Unaware that he was the object of her thoughts, Charles Truscott had awakened in a better frame of mind. His plans were going well. No strangers to violence, his henchmen at Seven Dials would serve him as they had done before. After all, there was no greater incentive than the sight of gold.
As for Judith? Let her torture herself and her young lover for these next few weeks. It would make his conquest all the sweeter when it came. When the time was right, he would pluck her from the circle of her friends as easily as one might seize a ripening fruit.
He spared no more than a passing thought for Dan. The man was a nobody, unworthy of his consideration, and possessed of neither birth nor fortune. He might dream of winning Judith and her wealth, but he should never have her.
As always, his morning service was well attended, and the sermon held his congregation enthralled. Quite one of his best, he considered with satisfaction, combining as it did the threat of hellfire with the promise of salvation.
When the service ended he followed his usual practice, standing in the porch and smiling gravely at his departing parishioners. A word or two to the wealthier among them brought congratulations and fervent promises of help with his good works.
As he re-entered the empty church he rubbed his hands. That tiresome task was over for another day. It was a small price to pay for what must be a handsome sum, in the collection boxes. He was looking forward to counting it.
Then he saw the child behind the pillar. He hurried forward, anxious to hear the news for which he had been waiting.
“Well?” he asked impatiently.
The boy stepped back, keeping a heavy pew between them. “You’re wanted, mester. There’s a couple of stiff ’uns as needs getting rid of.”
The preacher froze. His hirelings must have botched the affair. Had he not suggested the river, where the bodies would have been carried downstream? But just two corpses? He had to know.
“Who…who is dead?” His throat was dry.
“Friends of yourn, so Nellie says.” The urchin gave him a knowing smile.
Truscott staggered back. He could hardly breathe. A red mist swam before his eyes as an uncontrollable rage consumed him.
At the sight of his contorted face the child began to run, but the preacher was too quick for him. He twisted the stick-like arm behind the urchin’s back.
“I won’t go,” he hissed.
Tears of agony rolled down the starveling’s face.
“It ain’t my fault,” he sobbed. “If you ain’t there by nightfall they’ll come to you…”
It was then that his tormentor lost the last vestiges of his self-control. Something inside him snapped. He wanted to strike out…to injure those who were responsible for the ruin of his plans. Someone must suffer. He began to punch the boy about the head, splitting the thin lips and closing one terrified eye.
“Stop!” The horrified surprise in Judith’s voice reached him even through that bout of murderous anger.
He looked up to see her standing in the open doorway, but this was a Judith whom he did not recognise. Gone was the timid girl who had so little to say. Now she ran towards him with blazing eyes, and caught at his upraised arm.
“Stop, I say! Don’t you see that the child is bleeding?”
Truscott released his victim, but his look was terrible. For a moment Judith thought that he would strike her too. She faced him squarely, fully prepared to stand her ground as she pushed the boy behind her.
Chapter Six
Truscott thought fast. His eyes grew blank as he sank into the nearest pew, covering them with a trembling hand.
Judith ignored him. She looked about her for some means of reviving his battered victim. The boy lay half-unconscious at her feet, and he was still bleeding. Water! She must have water! She took out her handkerchief, thrust aside the cover of the christening font, and soaked it thoroughly. Then she knelt down, supporting the child’s head upon her arm, whilst she dabbed gently at his lips.
He gazed at her dully for a moment. Then he began to struggle.
“Let me go!” he shrieked.
“You may go when you can stand,” she soothed. “Would you like to try?”
His face was a fearful sight, but he twisted like a cat as he sprang upright. Then he pointed at the preacher as he backed away.
“He’ll pay for this!” he cried.
Judith pretended to misunderstand him. “Were you to be paid?” She reached into her reticule and handed him some coins. “You are so thin,” she said. “Won’t you use it to buy food?”
The money disappeared with astonishing speed, but the cracked lips attempted a weak smile.
“You ain’t so bad,” the child offered. “He won’t beat you, will he?”
“Most certainly he will not,” Judith told him firmly. “Off you go, and don’t forget the food.”
She watched as he limped painfully to the open door. Then she turned her attention to his tormentor.
“Well, sir, what have you to say?” she asked in icy tones. “There can be no possible excuse for such a disgraceful attack upon a child.”
Truscott had been watching her through his fingers. Who did she think she was? She’d flown at him like some avenging angel, ready to strike at him herself if he had not obeyed her. She’d pay for her interference, but not just yet.
He dropped his hands, staring at her with a blank expression.
“Where am I?” he murmured. “What has happened? I have no recollection of anything since the service ended.”
Judith was unimpressed. She suspected him of lying. Was this some ploy to persuade her to excuse the inexcusable? She had been deeply shocked by his behaviour. That a grown man should use such violence to a child was unbelievable.
“You are in your own church, sir. Hardly the place for the scene which I have just witnessed.”
“The boy?” he whispered vaguely. “Was there a boy? I seem to recall a child approaching me…”
“How could you forget it? You left him stunned and bleeding—”
“No, no! That can’t be true! It is unthinkable!”
“Then look at the blood upon the ground, and on my handkerchief.” Judith pointed to the sodden scrap of fabric.
Truscott gave a cry and clutched his head. “I am going mad! Why would I attack a child? Oh, Judith, help me! I am beset with horrors…” He buried his face in his hands once more and began to sob as if his heart would break.
Judith was both startled and embarrassed. Men did not cry, if her own experience was anything to go by. She hesitated, looking at the heaving shoulders, and felt a twinge of pity. The Reverend Charles had broken down completely. For that to happen there must be something sadly wrong.
“I’m ready to listen, if you wish to speak of it,” she said more kindly.
“I…I can’t! You are an angel. Why should I burden you with my troubles?”
“I thought we had promised to share them.” She sat down beside him.
“My dearest, I’d hoped to spare you all distress.”
“Not all, I hope. Charles, you can’t protect me from life itself. Please tell me what is troubling you. I’ll try to understand.”
The preacher raised a tearstained face to hers. His capacity for histrionics, which included the ability to weep at will, had often caused him to wonder if he should have followed his mother’s example, and sought his fortune on the stage. A prec
arious profession, he’d decided. His present career was much to be preferred.
“So noble!” he whispered in broken tones. “It shall be as you wish.” He stopped then as if to gather his thoughts. “It is my mother, dearest one. I remember now…the boy brought me news of her. Oh, Judith, she is dying! The shock destroyed my reason.”
“We must go to her at once.” Judith took his hand. “You must be strong, my dear. If we delay we may be too late.”
“I won’t allow you to put yourself in danger. She has been suffering from the smallpox. Judith, you knew that I was called away on family business. Now you know the truth of it.”
“But, Charles, she must be cared for. We cannot let her die alone.”
“She is in the best of hands. That was my first consideration. We had hopes of a recovery, but now those hopes are shattered. It is all too much to bear…” Apparently crushed, he bent his head.
“I’m not afraid of sickness,” she protested.
“Sickness?” He managed a ghastly smile. “This is not sickness as you know it, Judith. You can have no idea…”
With sly relish he began to describe the headaches, the agonising muscle pains, the vomiting and the delirium suffered by the victims of the scourge before the appearance of the pustules which often covered the whole body.
Judith’s hand flew to her mouth and she gazed at him in horror. He was watching her closely. Had he frightened her enough?
“The disease is highly contagious,” he continued sadly. “My dear, would you bring such a fate upon your family, let alone yourself? That would be a wicked thing to do.”
“You are right,” she told him earnestly. “But, Charles, what of you? You must also be in danger.”
“No, no! I had a slight attack in India some years ago. The experience was unpleasant, but it is considered to be a form of vaccination, so I understand. For me, there is no danger of infection.”
“Then go to your mother. I must not delay you.”
“How good you are!” He was wise enough not to attempt to take her hand. Possibly he had regained some standing in her eyes, but he couldn’t be quite sure in spite of her expressions of sympathy.
The Passionate Friends Page 8