The Passionate Friends

by Meg Alexander

  “Not that way!” Judith flew after him as he started down the main staircase. “Someone is sure to see you.”

  Her warning came too late, though she had a restraining hand upon his arm. At that moment the front door opened and Mrs Aveton entered the house, accompanied by her daughters and Charles Truscott.

  The sight which met her eyes robbed her, for the moment, of all power of speech. Judith, scarlet with embarrassment, was in much the same condition.

  Then Mrs Aveton found her voice. “Why, you little trollop!” she hissed viciously. “You should be whipped at the cart’s tail!”

  Ignoring Truscott’s warning look, she turned to Dan. “Out!” she ordered. “Or must I have you thrown into the street?”

  Truscott thought in time to intervene. “My dear ma’am, are you not a little overwrought? Judith, I’m sure we are agreed, is welcome to receive her friends at any time.”

  “In her bedroom?” It was a scream of fury. “Oh, the disgrace!”

  Truscott became aware of the sniggering girls beside him. He bent a stern look upon them. “Your daughters must be tired after their drive, Mrs Aveton. Doubtless they will wish to retire…”

  It was clear that the girls had no such wish. Judith had been caught in the most compromising circumstances and the scene which must surely follow was far too good to miss. They longed to defy him, but there was something in his dark gaze which sent them scurrying away.

  He turned to Judith’s stepmother, jerking his head in the direction of the goggling porter. “This is hardly the place for a discussion, ma’am. May we not go into the salon?”

  “Not him!” Mrs Aveton glared at Dan.

  “But certainly this gentleman shall accompany us. My dear sir, I well remember you. You are Lord Wentworth’s adopted son, I believe?”

  Dan murmured something unintelligible in reply. His thoughts were in turmoil. Due to his own folly he had placed Judith in an impossible position.

  He dared not look at her, but he knew how she must be feeling, and the thought of her present agony of mind almost broke his heart.

  What a fool he’d been to come here. He’d forced himself upon her, though she’d made her feelings clear that night in Mount Street. Why could he not accept that she cared for him no longer? In his arrogance he’d succeeded only in compromising her reputation.

  “Perhaps a little refreshment, ma’am?” Truscott suggested smoothly.

  For Mrs Aveton this was the last straw.

  “How can you sit there speaking of refreshment, sir? Have you no notions of propriety? This girl deserves her fate. Mr Truscott, pray have no regard for my own feelings. Since all must be at an end between you, I shall excuse you if you wish to leave my home.”

  “I had no such thought.” The preacher smiled at her, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “In less than a week, Judith will become my wife. Her conduct is now my concern, not yours, I think. Nothing she might do or say will give me a poor opinion of her. I trust her implicitly.”

  Judith lifted her head and looked at him in amazement. Another man might have placed the worst construction upon the situation.

  “I…I’d like to speak to you alone,” she whispered.

  Dan sprang to his feet. “Then if you will excuse me?” He bowed to the assembled company and left the room. Judith was lost to him for ever. He knew it now.

  Once in the street he looked about him blindly. Then he began to walk though he was unaware of his surroundings. For all they meant to him he might have been wandering on another planet.

  His thoughts were all of Judith. He couldn’t have made matters worse if he had tried. Now Mrs Aveton would humiliate her with all manner of vile accusations, and there was nothing he could do to protect her.

  His fears were unnecessary. Truscott had seen at once that his bride-to-be was at the limits of her endurance. Her nerves were as taut as bowstrings. One false move, and he would lose her. If Mrs Aveton persisted with her disgusting insinuations, Judith herself might break off her engagement, feeling that she was unfit to marry him.

  He moved towards her and took her hands. “Your stepmama will excuse us, dearest one.” Over her head he cast a warning look at Mrs Aveton. It was a clear dismissal and she obeyed him, though she was loath to do so.

  “My love, this has been most unpleasant for you,” he murmured soothingly. “Won’t you sit down, Judith?” He attempted a little joke. “Now, you shall not look at me as if you are a guilty schoolgirl!”

  “I do feel guilty,” she admitted quietly. “What must you think of me?”

  “I think as I always did…that you are true and good. I could never doubt you.”

  His kind words tested her self-control, but she forced herself to speak.

  “I owe you an explanation,” she whispered. “I did not know, you see, that Dan would come here—”

  Truscott placed a finger against her lips. “No explanations, dearest. None are needed. Now let us forget the matter. We shall not speak of it again.”

  “You are very good.” Close to tears, she fled. Now she was confirmed in her belief that he was a man of generous spirit. If she didn’t love him, at least she could admire him.

  Truscott helped himself to a glass of wine. He was well satisfied with the way he’d handled her. In his apparent charity he had done his cause no harm at all. He had her now. There would be no further difficulty in the wooing of this witless creature.

  He permitted himself a smile. He knew her well enough by now. There would have been no romping on the bed with his rival. Had they quarrelled? Either way, it did not matter. But how had the man gained access to her room? He thought he knew the answer. Bessie must be dismissed, but not until he was safely wed.

  His spirits began to lift. It was high time he had some luck. That day he had awakened in the worst of moods. Margrave had let him down the night before, though he had waited for the forger until long past midnight.

  Had his quarry grown suspicious? He went over their conversation, but he could think of nothing which might have alerted him.

  Still, time was growing short. Cursing the necessity, he took himself back to the parish of St Giles.

  There was no sign of Margrave in the gin shops. Then he bethought himself of the inn. To his relief Margrave was sitting in the corner, but he was not alone.

  Truscott bowed to the bold-eyed wench beside him.

  “Getting worried, were you, Charlie?” Margrave’s look was sly.

  “Not in the least!” Truscott seated himself and signalled to the waiter. “Ma’am, may I offer you something, and you too, my dear sir?”

  “Quite the gentleman, ain’t he, Jenny? I said that you would like him.”

  “Oh, I do!” The girl leaned forward, giving Truscott a full glimpse of her magnificent bosom. “He’s just the sort of gentleman as appeals to me.”

  “My dear!” Truscott raised his glass in tribute to their fair companion. The girl had possibilities, unless, of course, she was Margrave’s doxy.

  “My niece!” the forger said mendaciously. He might have admitted that she was his insurance against treachery. With Jenny keeping an eye upon the preacher, he felt he might be safe.

  “The dear child turned up last night,” he lied. “I couldn’t desert her. She knows no one here in London town.”

  “And no work, nor a place to stay,” the girl confided. Her plump thigh was pressed close to Truscott, and he felt a stirring in his blood.

  He pretended to consider for a moment. “That need present no problem,” he said at last. “I own a house at Seven Dials. As it happens, I’m in need of a housekeeper for the place. Have you any experience?”

  “Plenty!” she leered. “I wouldn’t disappoint you, sir.”

  “I’m sure of it.” His hand strayed beneath the table and lifted her skirt. Her face remained unchanged as his fingers wandered.

  “Well, then, perhaps you’d care to meet me there tomorrow?” Truscott gave her the address. “Shall we say at noon?”r />
  “Right then, Jenny, be off with you!” Margrave waved her away. “We have matters to discuss!” He turned to his companion. “Tonight?” he asked.

  “Leave it until Sunday. That is when I preach again.”

  “We’re getting short of dibs,” the forger told him.

  “Then you should have come to me last night. I waited long enough…”

  “Couldn’t be done!” Margrave felt it unnecessary to explain that he had, in fact, been among the congregation on the previous evening. He knew that Truscott was a ruthless man, and he had feared a trap.

  Now he was satisfied. In that milling throng of worshippers no harm could come to him. Jenny had been an afterthought, an insurance for the future. Truscott, he knew, had a weakness for the ladies.

  It was a weakness he despised. In giving way to his lusts a man might expose himself to danger. Women were unpredictable creatures.

  His face betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

  “Then Sunday, for certain?” he suggested.

  “For certain!” Truscott hurried away. Today he must get rid of Nan. The girl had been a thorn in his flesh for long enough.

  Yet he was surprised by her tenacity. Even his beatings seemed not to have deterred her.

  “I won’t go!” she’d cried. “You can’t turn me away. How am I to live? How am I to pay for the child?”

  “You should have thought of that before.” His tone was brutal. “I told you to get rid of it.”

  “But I didn’t! She is your flesh and blood! How can you abandon us?”

  He’d been deaf to all her pleas. Taking her keys he’d thrust her from the door. Spineless, that’s what she was! In her place he’d have stuck a knife in his tormentor.

  He’d locked the door against her, summoned a hackney carriage, and returned to the West End.

  When Mrs Aveton came to join him in her salon he didn’t rise to greet her.

  “Well?” She was still in a towering rage.

  “Very well, no thanks to you! You fool! You couldn’t hold your tongue if it should hang you!”

  “Don’t use that tone with me, sir! What of you! Perhaps you’ve no objection to taking damaged goods?”

  “Save your lies for those who will believe them.”

  “Such nobility!” She gave an angry titter. “Judith does not know you—”

  “And nor do you, apparently. Do you suppose that it was her virginal purity that persuaded me to offer for her?”

  “I know it wasn’t.” Mrs Aveton glared at him.

  “Then for God’s sake, woman, use your head! We are too close to lose her now. You might have ruined all our plans…”

  “What was I to do? You think yourself so clever, sir, but suppose I had said nothing? Judith is no fool. Her suspicions would have been aroused at once. Would you have her guess that we had come to an arrangement?” Her look grew crafty. She thought she had him there.

  “You had no thought of that when you spoke out. Let me remind you that I’m not one of your feeble-witted friends…” Truscott paused. “Even so, you’ve done me a service. Judith now believes that I’m a model of all the gentler virtues.”

  Mrs Aveton began to speak again, anxious to justify herself still further, but he waved her to silence.

  “Your ill temper is a serious threat to us. I’ll have no more of it. Judith must expect to be punished. You will confine her to her room until the wedding. Send up her meals and do not speak to her again.”

  Mrs Aveton bridled. “You shall not give me orders in this house!”

  “I shall, believe me!” There was so much menace in his tone that she backed away from him.

  “I’ll do as you say,” she promised hurriedly.

  “You would be well advised to do so. What’s more, you must keep a sharp eye on the maid.”

  “On Bessie? What has she to say to anything?”

  Truscott looked at her in pity. “How do you suppose that Ashburn entered this house?”

  Mrs Aveton’s colour rose once more. She sprang to her feet and tugged at the bell so hard that she almost broke the rope.

  “I’ll turn her off at once,” she cried.

  “You will do no such thing. Have you learned nothing, you stupid creature? I’ll deal with Bessie in my own good time.” Without further ceremony he left the house.

  Unaware of the fate in store for her, Bessie was at that moment enduring a most unpleasant interview with Judith.

  “How could you be so underhand?” her mistress demanded sternly. “You have surprised me, Bessie.”

  The maid stood her ground. “I ain’t sorry, miss. You may turn me off without a character if you like, but you won’t make me sorry for helping Mr Dan.”

  “You haven’t helped either of us. In fact, you have made matters very much worse, to say nothing of distressing me…”

  Bessie’s face crumpled. “I didn’t want that, but, Miss Judith—”

  “No! I’ll hear no more excuses. You may leave me now. I’d like to be alone.”

  Still and composed, Judith turned away. She felt drained of all emotion. Her sufferings that day had been severe, but now she felt nothing. Perhaps there came a point where the mind would accept no more.

  She wished to speak to no one, but Mrs Aveton would certainly wish to see her. It didn’t matter. The expected tirade of abuse would wash over her like a stream across a rock.

  She stayed in her room until the light began to fade. Then she heard a tapping at the door. It was Bessie with a tray, and her reddened eyes told Judith that she had been weeping.

  “Don’t distress yourself,” she murmured. “I was too hard on you. I know you thought you were acting for the best.”

  “Oh, miss, it isn’t that. I was to tell you that you ain’t to leave your room before your wedding. Madam don’t wish to see you.”

  Judith managed a faint smile. “You think it a punishment, Bessie? I could wish for nothing better.”

  Bessie set down the tray. “Then you’ll eat your supper, miss?”

  “At present I feel that food would choke me. Take it away!”

  This brought a further flood of tears from Bessie. To cheer her Judith took a few mouthfuls of the food, but it gave her a feeling of nausea.

  “I believe I’ll go to bed,” she said at last.

  She stood in silence as the girl undressed her, though she was distressed to see that Bessie’s tears still flowed.

  “Don’t worry!” she said gently. “In four days’ time we shall be gone from here.”

  Bessie was too overcome to speak. With a hand pressed to her mouth she fled.

  Judith lay on her bed in a trance-like state. Only four days to her marriage? It didn’t seem possible that she would then become Charles Truscott’s wife. She had a curious floating feeling, as if she were detached from everything about her. It was comforting, and she prayed that this sense of unreality would last. Whilst it remained, nothing more could hurt her.

  Wisely, Truscott did not attempt to see her for the next two days, though he sent her flowers and messages.

  Jenny was now installed at the house in Seven Dials and, as she’d promised, she hadn’t disappointed him. The wench had all the experience which he craved to satisfy his lusts. He left her on the Sunday morning with reluctance, promising to return as soon as possible.

  “But you’re to be wed,” she pouted. “You’ll tire yourself with your new bride…”

  “You think so?” His eyes glowed as he looked at her. “I’m more likely to tire you!”

  “Never, Charlie! I’m a match for you!”

  He was still laughing as he strode away. He’d rest that afternoon, recruiting his energies for the evening service.

  He always preached at night, well aware of the theatrical nature of his setting. With the side aisles in darkness, and the body of the church lit only by four massive candelabra, he could sense the power he wielded over his congregation.

  A single lantern hung above his pulpit, placed carefully to s
hed its light upon his face, throwing into high relief each plane and contour, and emphasising the hollows in his cheeks. It gave him a fanatical appearance, and he was pleased with the effect.

  He might have been some latter-day Savonarola, he thought with satisfaction. The Italian monk had achieved the pinnacle of success with his preaching. A pity that he’d overreached himself at the last, and had been executed. Truscott ran a finger around his collar. Strangling wasn’t a pretty death. He thrust the thought aside.

  That night he was at the peak of his own powers. He’d never preached better and he knew it. Taking as his text “What doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his own soul?”, he launched into his sermon. When he paused for effect there was total silence in the church.

  He spared his listeners nothing, and was rewarded by the sound of an occasional moan. When he drew the sermon to a close his garments were clinging to him. He had given his all that night. The only thing lacking was the sound of wild applause.

  As was his custom, he moved into the church porch when the service ended, greeting his parishioners with a grave face, and accepting their congratulations upon his forthcoming marriage with great dignity.

  At no time did he acknowledge by the flicker of an eyelid that he had seen Dick Margrave standing by a pillar, but he felt a fierce spasm of pleasure. His quarry was within his grasp.

  He waited until the last of the crowd had left by the lych gate. Then he turned to the forger.

  “Satisfied?” he asked cynically.

  “More than satisfied, Charlie. You’ve got some prime ones there. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You’re a blooming marvel.” Margrave began to laugh. “That text! I thought it must have finished me! I had to go outside.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate the irony. Now what do you say to a drink? My throat is parched…”

  “No, I don’t think so. This ain’t a social call. Give me the money, and I’ll be gone.”

  “It’s in the vestry,” Truscott told him smoothly. “If you’ll follow me…?”

  Margrave laughed again. “I ain’t such a fool. I don’t know what little surprise you might have rigged up for me. I don’t stir a step from this doorway. You can fetch the money to me.”