The Illicit Love of a Courtesan

by Jane Lark

  Gainsborough’s eyes widened, his cheeks quivering as he stuttered again in an attempt to back out, but Robert towered over him, staring down at her tormentor with a look of disgust. “Tomorrow at seven, on the Heath, by the Black Horse Inn. Find your second.” Pressing a hand to Gainsborough’s shoulder, Robert shoved him backwards. “Now get out!”

  Lord Gainsborough stumbled one step back, apparently stunned for a moment. The man, who had bullied, threatened and assaulted her on numerous occasions, was afraid. He mumbled explanations, implying he’d meant no threat; that Robert had misunderstood. Robert did not move. He stood like granite in defence of her.

  She was observing a nightmare while awake and Edward said nothing.

  The glass between her fairy tale and reality broke—between past and present—the fantasy cracking, shattering into thousands of shards—sharp twisted little pieces. In answer, she leapt into the fray. She would not allow Robert or Edward or anyone else to be injured by this, to be hurt by the fiction of her happy ending. No, she would rather go back to the dark infinity if that was the price. “You are not doing this!” Her voice rang back at her from the stone walls. “I will not be responsible for someone’s death!”

  Turning to look at her, Robert’s expression was fixed and hard. “It is not your doing. It’s his. I gave the bastard the option to disappear. He didn’t take it. So be it. This is the outcome. Personally, I’ll be glad to end his miserable life.” A broad smile split Robert’s lips. “Besides there’s no risk to me, he’s all bluster, Ellen.” Despite his humour, a dark determined glint shone in his eyes.

  “Robert, no, please,” Ellen pressed, her voice dropping to a desperate sincerity. He didn’t care if he lived or died, she could see it, and perhaps that was why Gainsborough feared him more than he’d feared anyone else. “This is not what I want, Robert.”

  Edward caught her arm and held her back as she reached for Robert. “Ellen,” he whispered, in a harsh commanding tone. “Robert is right, this needs to be resolved. It is not a woman’s concern.” He’d never distanced her from anything before. It hurt. But she knew Edward, he wouldn’t relent, and neither would his brother. There was no point in arguing against them.

  Pulling herself free from Edward’s grip, glaring at him, her voice broke with a harsh, lost, pain, “I want to go home, Edward. Take me home.” Her hopes were hollow. There would never be a happy ending, only more guilt to bear.

  “Bitch!” Gainsborough yelled viciously behind her and sensing his movement, she spun to see him launch at her. “You’ll die for this!”

  “No!” Edward cried, his arm painfully grabbing her waist in a brutal grip as he snatched her body back from a blade’s tip before it sliced into her throat. She didn’t know where the blade had come from. She couldn’t think.

  Horror chilling and solidifying the blood in her veins, the scene unfolded in an unrealistic, slow, slurred speed. Robert grasped Gainsborough’s wrist and in response Gainsborough thrust the blade upwards, slashing at him, cutting the air an inch from Robert’s head. Robert twisted, his hand still gripping Gainsborough’s wrist, tying the man in a knot as he moved behind him, using Gainsborough’s body as a shield, while he fought to force him into dropping the knife.

  The French windows to the ballroom broke open, several men spilled out, shouting, and she heard the growing chaos through a haze.

  Desperate rage and evil in his eyes, Lord Gainsborough flailed, the sharp tipped stabbing blade he wielded striking out in indiscriminate swipes, slashing at the air over his shoulder, trying to pierce Robert’s neck.

  Robert battled for control, deflecting each blow, while Ellen fought for freedom, screaming. The sound came from a million miles away as Edward restrained her and she dug her fingernails into his arm, which rigidly held her waist.

  I have to stop this.

  Suddenly time slowed by another degree, as Ellen’s eyes followed the line of the glinting blade. It was descending now, under Robert’s grip on Gainsborough’s hand, veering downward. Robert was steering it away from him but in doing so it plunged towards Gainsborough.

  When it struck, the blade punctured deep into Lord Gainsborough’s chest.

  Ellen’s scream broke the air as the knife skewered Gainsborough’s breadth. She knew the length of the blade must have passed through his ribs, pierced his lungs and thrust into his heart.

  Instantly Robert’s bloodied hand loosened its grip on Gainsborough’s. And Robert stepped back. He looked stunned.

  Ellen fell silent and watched, motionless, her fingers still gripping Edward’s arm. Everyone standing on the narrow terrace, witnessing the scene, was silent.

  Lord Gainsborough’s eyes looked at his chest and his fingers, which still gripped the knife. Then he withdrew it.

  Blood pulsed from the wound as the blade pulled free and Lord Gainsborough’s eyes opened wide, bulging for a moment in shock as the knife fell with a clatter to the stone pavement before he fell too, following the blade that had taken his life, first to his knees and then forward onto his stomach. A gurgling noise escaped his throat, for the length of a single breath, then ebbed rasping into a drowning sound.

  His body twitched in a sharp convulsion, once, before falling limp.

  Ellen turned in a rush to the balustrade as Edward let her go and cast up her accounts over its edge, her stomach convulsing until there was no more fluid inside her. Only then did she become aware of Edward’s hand on her back, and the commotion building behind her. She heard Lord Forth giving directions, calling for someone to send for the magistrate, and Richard too, advising someone to ensure the women were kept away. Men confirmed to Robert they would bear witness to what had occurred, assuring him it was self-defence.

  Shaking uncontrollably, Ellen rose, and Edward instantly gripped her, holding her to his chest, his palm rubbing her back. “Here.” She felt a cloak rest over her shoulders, and recognised David’s voice, another of her brothers-in-law. She felt sick again; until now David hadn’t known the history of her intervening years, what on earth would he think of this? But he said nothing, moving away.

  “Come,” she heard Edward whisper. “I’ll take you home. If the magistrate needs to speak to us it can wait until tomorrow.” When her legs would not move, he simply and swiftly picked her up and carried her.

  Pressing her face to his shoulder, she gripped the lapel of his evening coat. With her head turned into him, so that she need not look at anyone, she heard Casper guide Edward out through the servants’ corridors and Edward muttering about gambling.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dressed for the day, Edward bent down to the bed to kiss the forehead of his sleeping wife. She’d cried for hours through the night, despite the dose of laudanum Jenkins has rustled up to calm her jangled nerves. Edward had tried to talk to her but she hadn’t been communicative, instead she’d just clung to him until the drug induced sleep had finally claimed her.

  Expecting her to have a lie in this morning, he’d risen early to speak with Robert while she slept, and find out what had occurred once they’d left Forth’s. Silently leaving the room, he managed not to disturb her.

  Moments later, descending to the hall, he saw Robert hovering in conversation with Jenkins.

  “Edward,” Robert acknowledged, looking up.

  Jogging down the last few steps, Edward asked the butler, “Is breakfast set? I’m starving.”

  Jenkins confirmed it with a brisk nod, “My Lord.”

  Then to his brother, Edward added, “Have you eaten? I wanted to ask you what happened after we left.”

  “How’s Ellen?” Robert asked, while as answer he caught Edward’s arm and turned with him, steering him towards the dining room.

  “She’s sleeping. I don’t know how she’ll be when she wakes. She never spoke last night.”

  “She shouldn’t have had to witness it,” Robert concluded. “I’m sorry she did.”

  A footman held the door of the dining room open. The table was laid out fo
r breakfast. The sweet smell of freshly baked bread, melting butter, salted meat and smoked fish assailed Edward. His stomach rumbled at the prospect. He hadn’t got as far as eating supper last night, and hadn’t thought of food at all after the horrific scene with Gainsborough. But now his anxiety over Ellen had made his empty stomach restless and he felt ravenously hungry.

  He moved to take the chair beside his brother’s at the head of the table. A footman came forward to pour their coffee, while others filled their plates. When they’d finished serving, Robert dismissed them, bidding the last man shut the door.

  “So what happened?” Edward asked, tucking into his breakfast and taking a swig of coffee.

  Robert took a mouthful, swallowed it and leaned back in his seat, his coffee cup in his hand. “The witnesses were all from Ellen’s family or connected, no one else within the ballroom saw anything in any detail. We told the magistrate the story you gave Forth; that Gainsborough had sought to attack you because you’d accused him of cheating at cards and made him look the fool. He bought it, but he wishes to speak with you later and take your statement. I don’t think…”

  The door clicked open. Edward looked up, as did Robert. It swung wider revealing Ellen. Edward stood, watching her slip quietly into the room. She looked dazed, only half awake, her eyes red rimmed, her hair hastily twisted and pinned in a single loose knot. The crease of her pillow was still imprinted on the skin of her cheek. Her vague shifting gaze met theirs as she leaned back against the door and let it click shut behind her. He held out his hand to her, encouraging her to come to him, but she didn’t move. Staying at the door her hands pressing to the wood behind her bottom she watched the pair of them with wide eyes.

  “Sweetheart,” Edward called gently. “I thought you would still be sleeping. Come on, come here and sit beside me.” She didn’t come, just stood there watching him with an analytical crystalline gaze.

  Edward stepped forward, adding. “Ellen, I think you should be resting.”

  She shook her head, her gaze focusing more directly on him, but with a look that gave him the impression she thought his words bizarre. “Why? I got out of bed each morning after he abused and beat me. Why should I stay abed like some pathetic creature when I have watched his lifeblood ebb away in price of it?”

  “I’m sorry, Ellen,” Robert said.

  Glancing at his brother, Edward saw he’d stood too.

  “I’m not,” Ellen answered bluntly as Edward turned back and went to her, crossing the room. “He would have killed me if you’d let him have the chance.”

  She still sounded in shock.

  “Perhaps you ought to go back to bed and rest, darling?” Reaching her side Edward touched her arm, but she shrugged him off.

  Her eyes looked up, meeting his gaze, sharp determination shone there. “I’m not tired. What happens now?”

  Edward sighed. “At least come and sit. I’ll pour you a coffee.”

  She finally moved, walking before him as his fingers moved to her back guiding her to the chair beside his. There, he withdrew it for her to sit, while Robert poured her a coffee and handed Edward the cup to set before her. When she picked it up her little charade was revealed as he saw the tremble in her hands. But if she wished to hide her distress he wouldn’t make her face it. Instead he ignored it, returning to his seat and his waiting breakfast.

  “So what happens now?” Ellen asked again.

  Robert answered, while Edward ate, “The magistrate will call on Edward for a statement later. We gave ours last night. Everyone has said Gainsborough attacked Edward, not you, because of an argument over some card game weeks ago.”

  Edward felt Ellen’s gaze rest on him while Robert continued. No doubt she was remembering their first night. He wished he’d had more self-control that night and left her untouched. He’d treated her with the same greed as Gainsborough. He hated himself for it. He didn’t dare look up and meet her gaze.

  “His body has been returned to his family,” Robert progressed. “And for their sake the magistrate has agreed that the cause of death shall not be made public.”

  Ellen released a heart wrenchingly deep sigh, then whispered, “I had forgotten about his wife and daughters—his grandchildren.”

  Resting his knife and fork on the plate, Edward leaned back, turning to her. She was looking at Robert, now she looked at him.

  “I should feel guilty, sorry, but I can’t.”

  “I don’t know why anyone would blame you for it, Ellen, if they knew the truth.” Robert concluded soundly. “You’re right – the bastard deserved what he got.”

  “While that’s true, I don’t think it’s helpful, Robert,” Edward said in a low voice as he watched her.

  “It is true though isn’t it?” she added, looking from one to the other with brightly shining wide eyes. “A part of me hopes he rots in hell for eternity for what he did to me, but another part of me knows I should forgive and forget—being vengeful only hurts. Yet he’s dead, because of me, and…” She shrugged; a helpless little gesture. “I don’t know what to think. It is still a life lost at my expense and a wife now a widow. His daughters no longer have a father, and his grandchildren—”

  “Not because of you,” Edward urged quietly. “Because of him. He chose to do what he did. Last night he attacked you. He tried to kill you, Ellen. You are not at fault. Understand it and believe it.”

  She nodded, but he knew the words had not sunk into either her head or her heart. Still more wounds to be healed.

  “You’re not at fault, Ellen,” Robert echoed Edward’s words and Edward looked across at him with gratitude.

  She shook her head. “I do know, yet I shall still think of his wife and daughters.”

  “You’re too good, woman,” Robert said staring at her. “I’m sorry I ever thought differently.” At that, Ellen blushed.

  A knock struck the door and Jenkins called from beyond it, “My Lords, my Lady, the Marchioness of Wiltshire is here.”

  “Penny,” Ellen breathed, rising. “Forgive me.” She turned back to them. “I’ll take her up to my sitting room.”

  Edward gave her a sharp nod of approval, knowing this was perhaps the best thing for her; to spend some time with her closest sister. “I will come up and see you later.”

  She nodded too, bobbing a curtsy to Robert and left.

  “Ellen.” Robert said in parting, standing in recognition of her exit, affording her the respect she deserved as a gently bred woman.

  Then seating himself again, Robert turned to Edward. “Bloody hell, Ed. How badly did he treat her? God, Rupert and I got it wrong, didn’t we?”

  “Just a little.” Edward let a self-satisfied smile slip across his face as he took a mouthful of his breakfast, washed it down with coffee then looked back at his brother. “In truth, I probably only know half of it myself. Ellen is not the sort of person to share it. But I did see the aftermath of bruises from a beating he had given her, days after it, and they were still vivid beneath the mask of white powder she had tried to hide them with.’

  Robert made a disgusted sound. “Now I am even gladder the bastard is dead.”

  “And as to that I have not yet said thank you,” Edward answered, and his words were for so much. He hadn’t expected Robert to get involved, let alone to risk his life. Edward hadn’t even expected Robert to ever accept Ellen.

  “I owed you this, I think, after my misinterpretation of her at Farnborough,” Robert said lightly, with a smile, leaning back in his chair, the rare moment of his solemnity gone.

  “Perhaps, but this is my fight not yours,” Edward answered. “You didn’t have to get involved, but I am grateful you did.”

  “No, I didn’t have to, but I chose to, Ed. I know you think ill of me, yet I can be brotherly when I wish. But God forbid I prove not to be the villain you’ve cast me.” At that Robert drained his coffee cup and rose. “I’m done, and now I’m off.”

  As Robert passed, annoyed with his sudden return to sarcasm,
Edward grabbed the cuff of Robert’s morning coat, stopping him, and challenged his irritating tone. “Must you make a joke out of everything?”

  Robert faced Edward, his expression deadly serious. “I am not joking. I like your wife. I helped you. What more is there to say?”

  Edward just looked at him, his grip falling from his brother’s sleeve. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.” The words, his thoughts, slipped from his lips.

  “No,” Robert answered with a bitter smile. “Probably not. But perhaps you could try to simply trust me. I didn’t leave father knowing he’d die. And in fact when I left, I never had a bloody choice.” Robert’s hands lifted as though he would say more, then fell as he clearly made the decision not to speak. “Still it hardly matters.” Shrugging one shoulder, with an air of tired dismissal, Robert turned away.

  Edward rose facing Robert’s departing back, a deep sigh lifting his chest. “But when father died you didn’t come back, Rob.” Edward had wanted his brother then and Robert had not come back. Leaving Edward to deal with grief, debt and responsibility alone, throwing him into adult life as a child was thrown into water to learn to swim. He’d needed his brother then. He could never forgive Robert for not coming home when he should have done.

  Robert stopped halfway across the room, turned and looked back, his hard brown-eyed stare narrowing. “I couldn’t,” he answered, before turning away again and shifting back into motion.

  “Or rather you wouldn’t,” Edward continued. “I’ve heard the stories of your life abroad. You slept and gambled your way through Europe. That’s hardly the life of a contrite man who mourned his father. You can’t paint it any differently now you’re back!”

  Robert didn’t stop.

  Yet Edward thought he heard words on his brother’s breath as Robert pulled open the door which sounded like, “But perhaps a man who mourned another loss.”

  A moment after Robert had gone, Jenkins’s knock resounded on the half open door.