Sins and Secrets

by P. F. Kozak

  When Jack returned, Pamela cornered him in the dining room. “Jack, I have a problem I hope you can help me solve.”

  “Anything, Miss Pamela. What do you need?”

  “Master Rennard’s birthday is on Saturday. I asked Lucy what he usually does on his birthday. She didn’t know. I thought perhaps you might know.” Pamela watched him closely, waiting to see his reaction.

  Jack hedged, already confirming her suspicion. “Miss, I really can’t say.”

  “You take him to Nellie’s, don’t you?”

  Jack shifted uncomfortably. “Miss, I’m sure the guvner will be spending his birthday with you this year.”

  “Oh, but Jack, you miss my point in asking. I want to surprise Peter with a present. What better surprise than to take him to Nellie’s again.”

  “Miss Pamela, you have that devil look in your eyes. Don’t you be getting any ideas about going there!”

  “Too late, Jack. I’ve already got them. Bring the carriage around to the gate. I’ll be calling on Nellie today.”

  “Miss Pamela, the guvner told you not to go there. I agree with him. That ain’t no place for a lady.”

  “Jack, we’ve been through this before. I’m going. Either you will take me or I’ll call a hansom cab. But I am going.”

  Jack ran his fingers through his hair, a sure sign she had bested him. “Miss Pamela, don’t do this.”

  “Jack, I swear you to secrecy. I want to plan a surprise for Peter’s birthday. If you tell him where I went today, it will all be ruined.”

  “He’ll be surprised all right! Then he will be mad as hell.” Jack shook his head and went to fetch the carriage.

  Pamela had not seen Nellie since they first met, nearly a year ago. During that time, she had reread Nellie’s letters at least a dozen times. Peter still refused to read them, saying they were a private communication that he had no right to see.

  Pamela suspected the reason went deeper than that. Nellie’s personal correspondence with Sir George spoke of love and a relationship that lasted for years. They showed Nellie to be a woman capable of profound feeling. Peter deliberately distanced himself from such things.

  As far as Pamela knew, Peter had not been back to Nellie’s tavern since the day he met her at the train last June. Considering he now had Pamela, the need to seek release at Nellie’s had all but disappeared. However, Nellie had been Peter’s concubine for many years. She had also offered him friendship and solace when he had no one else. Whether Peter accepted it or not, Nellie was an important part of his past. Pamela wanted to understand that past.

  When Jack stopped the carriage in front of Nellie’s, he didn’t bother opening the door for Pamela. He immediately ran around to the back door to find Henry. It still being morning, Nellie’s tavern showed no signs of life.

  Pamela let herself out, lifting her skirt to avoid dragging it in the muddy street. She quietly waited at the front door. Jack came round to where she stood a few minutes later.

  “Miss Pamela, I expected you to wait in the carriage! You shouldn’t be standing in the doorway!”

  “Good Lord, Jack. We are alone on this street. What the devil do you think will happen to me?”

  Just then, Nellie opened the door. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Kingston.”

  “Bonjour, Madame. How very good to see you again. You are looking well.”

  “Et vous. Please, won’t you come in?”

  Pamela turned to Jack. “Could you please wait at the carriage, Jack? I shouldn’t be long.”

  “Certainly, miss.”

  Pamela followed Nellie inside. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning visit, Pamela?”

  “I have a favour to ask, Nellie.”

  “Sacré bleu! What could I possibly do for you, Pamela?”

  “More than you might think, Nellie.” Once again, Pamela found herself entranced by this handsome woman. It seemed inconceivable that she had intimate relations with both her father and with Peter. The undeniable truth of their history together still rocked Pamela to her core. She desperately wanted to experience some of what her father and Peter had shared with Nellie.

  “S’il vous plaît, tell me, ma chérie, what do you need?”

  “Saturday is Peter’s birthday.”

  “Ah, yes, so it is. If my memory serves me, it will mark his thirty-sixth year.”

  “You remember well, Nellie.” Pamela gathered herself, preparing to make what now seemed an outrageous request. She hedged. “First, let me tell you, Peter and I are engaged to be married.”

  “C’est magnifique!” Nellie kissed Pamela on both cheeks and then hugged her. “For many years I have waited to hear this news.”

  The genuine warmth and affection she felt flowing from Nellie filled Pamela. She returned the embrace. “Thank you, Nellie.” Tears slid down her face as she said, “It feels as though Papa is pleased, knowing we have your blessing.”

  “Ma petite, my blessing counts for little. It is your happiness Sir George would see.” Nellie’s eyes also shone with tears. She quickly wiped them away. “Might I offer you a cup of tea? I recall you find it calming.”

  “Thank you, yes. A cup of tea would be quite fine.”

  Nellie called for Henry, who appeared from the supply room behind the bar. “Henry, could you prepare a pot of tea for my guest? You remember Mademoiselle Kingston?”

  “I surely do. Good morning, miss.”

  “Good morning, Henry.”

  “I won’t be but a minute. The kettle is already hot.” He disappeared through the side door.

  Nellie and Pamela sat at a table off to the side. “Tell me, Pamela, why have you come here?”

  Pamela felt awkward, faced with explaining to Nellie exactly what she wanted to do. She blurted out, “Peter and I have been intimate for nearly a year.”

  Nellie’s eyes sparkled. “I suspected as much. I have not seen Monsieur Rennard for quite some time.”

  Pamela smiled, grateful for the opening. “Exactly right, Nellie. That’s why I want to give him a special present for his birthday.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “I want to be one of your girls for a night and receive him here, as a birthday surprise.”

  “Pamela, that is out of the question!”

  “Why should it be out of the question?”

  Nellie stood, as though in dismissal. “The daughter of Sir George does not belong in a whorehouse!”

  Pamela stood, blocking Nellie’s exit. “If you will not do this as a personal favour, then let us make it a business transaction. I will pay you well for the use of one of your rooms for the night, with the understanding I only wish to receive Peter.”

  Nellie’s eyes flashed fire. “Do not insult me, Pamela.”

  “And I would ask the same courtesy from you. Papa found love in a whorehouse. Peter found friendship and comfort, when he had nowhere else to go. The roots of the family tree run deep. In this circumstance, the sins of my father have been laid at my feet.”

  “Peter will be livid if I agree to this.”

  “Yes, I am quite sure he will. That should make our night here lusciously memorable, don’t you think?”

  Smiling, Nellie visibly softened. Sitting back down, she said, “You are a vixen, Mademoiselle Kingston. I know many gentlemen who would pay handsomely for an hour with a coquette such as you are.”

  Pamela also sat down. “I am only interested in one gentleman. Perhaps it would be appropriate to request payment from him for the evening’s entertainment. I am sure he has paid you well on his birthday for many years.”

  Nellie laughed aloud. “You know he comes here every year? That is what gave you this idea?”

  “My presence in his life is hardly reason to break tradition, now is it?”

  “Pamela, he has always needed a special woman in his life. God is good. He arranged a perfect match for my Monsieur Rennard.”

  “Peter is happier than he has ever been. His whistling in the house has
become a source of great amusement to our staff.”

  Nellie put her hand to her heart. “Pardon? Monsieur Rennard whistles?”

  Pamela winked and coyly replied, “He does now.”

  Again, Nellie laughed. “You are a delight! I see why he is enchanted. Your sorcery has made his head spin.”

  Henry brought the tea. Setting the tray down on the bar, he poured a cup for each of them. He handed Pamela hers with a bow. When he gave Nellie her cup, he asked, “Do you need anything else, mon petit chou?”

  “No, Henry. Merci.” Henry left them alone, going back to his work in the supply room.

  Pamela smiled. “Henry calls you ‘his little cabbage’?”

  “We have been together for many years. We have, shall we say, an understanding.”

  “What did Papa call you, Nellie?”

  “Mon amour.”

  “And Peter?”

  “Only Nellie. Nothing more. You need not concern yourself about that.”

  “I want you to know over the last months, I have thought of you often. Your letters have helped me to understand Papa more than I ever did while he lived. I also have come to understand how you helped Peter through many dark nights. Thank you for that.”

  “You are a gracious woman, Pamela, saying these kind words to an old whore.”

  “I see beauty in you, Nellie, that I have seen little of elsewhere. I know Papa saw it, too. That is why he loved you.”

  “Sir George respected me. That is what I hold in my heart. When we see each other again one day, I will tell him what a fine daughter he has.”

  “God willing, you will also tell him what fine grandchildren he has.”

  “Now that is a vision! Monsieur Rennard fathering Sir George Kingston’s heirs! I do not know if mon cher would laugh or cry at the thought.”

  “Nor do I. Perhaps a bit of both.”

  Nellie studied her for a moment. “Tell, me, Pamela, what do you hope to accomplish by doing this?”

  Pamela spoke her mind to the experienced woman sitting beside her. “With the years of intimate acquaintance you have together, you know Peter in a way I do not. I want to be to him what you are.”

  “My dear girl, he loves you and will soon marry you. It is not your place to be to him what I am.”

  Pamela flared. “By God, yes, it is! Once we are wed, I will not be relegated to mistress of the house and mother to his children! He has been coming to you for his pleasure for many years. If I am to be the one he comes to in the years ahead, I must learn the secrets you shared. Otherwise, he will come back to you, or go to someone else.”

  “You want him to be faithful? Men take mistresses as a matter of course.”

  Pamela stood and paced, obviously agitated. “Nellie, you are aware I never knew my mum. Growing up alone with Papa, I always had a governess, supposedly to care for me. They never did. I spent my time in the kitchen with our cook while they earned their salary in Papa’s bed.”

  “Sir George had a robust constitution before he became ill. His masculine needs had to be managed, which is why he came to me.”

  “Yes, I imagine that is true, which is why I intend to satisfy Peter’s needs in his own bed! If he is to share the bed of our children’s governess, I bloody well better be there with him!”

  “Would you do that for him, share a bed with another woman?”

  Pamela answered without hesitation. “Of course I would! We have already done so in a fashion. Our maid is quite a handsome young woman.”

  Nellie picked up the squirrel nutcracker sitting on the table and played with its tail. “Ma chérie, would you consider allowing me the pleasure?”

  Pamela slowly sat down. “You would do that?”

  “Mademoiselle, I am a whore. Certainly I would do that. The question is, would you?”

  Pamela sat quietly for several seconds. This unexpected enticement both excited and frightened her. “What would you do?”

  “Whatever you ask of me. It is my business to satisfy my clients.”

  A smile tickled the corners of Pamela’s mouth. “Peter would go mad, having both of us there.”

  Nellie patted Pamela’s hand. “Ma petite, madness would be the least of it.”

  “Then, you are agreeing to what I have asked?”

  “It seems I am. Are you agreeing to what I have asked?”

  Pamela felt her face grow warm as she answered, “If you will be patient with my inexperience, I would welcome the liaison.”

  “You do yourself a disservice, Pamela. If you have shared Peter Rennard’s bed for nearly a year, your experience is no doubt enviable.”

  “Papa mentored Peter professionally and as I now know, personally. I would ask that you do the same for me in this unusual ménage à trois.”

  “Have you ever told Peter what to do, or is he usually in charge?”

  “I sometimes make requests, but he usually decides what we do. Why do you ask?”

  “I discovered some time ago that Monsieur Rennard enjoys a strong female hand. If he has never experienced that with you, I think the time may have come to open the door.”

  “You will help me?”

  “Of course, ma chérie! And Monsieur Rennard will no doubt compensate us generously.”

  Pamela giggled. “Us?”

  “Your charms are not free if he receives them in my house.”

  Pamela beamed. “Oh, Nellie, thank you.”

  “Might I ask how you will get him here? I can’t imagine he will come willingly.”

  “He’ll come if Jack tells him I am already here.”

  “You are as headstrong and impetuous as your father. It is fortunate I have experience with your bloodline.”

  Pamela rose to leave. “What time should I arrive on Saturday?”

  “Can you be here early, before the evening clients arrive, perhaps around three o’clock?”

  “I can. Peter has already told me he has a meeting Saturday afternoon. I will tell him I have picked a place to meet him for his birthday and Jack will fetch him there.”

  “Très bien! That will give us time together to prepare.” Nellie hugged her. “If you should decide you do not want to do this, Pamela, send word with your man Jack.”

  “Nellie, I wouldn’t miss this night with Peter for all the tea in China!”

  “Then, I look forward to our meeting on Saturday. À bientôt.”

  “Au revoir, Nellie. Until Saturday.”

  Pamela met Jack at the carriage. “Miss Pamela, are you all right?”

  “Of course I am. I am ready to go back to Piccadilly now.” Pamela waited for him to help her into the carriage. He did not move. “Is something wrong, Jack?”

  “Miss, you’ve been in a bawdyhouse for the better part of an hour. I’m thinkin’ I have a right to have a bad temper.”

  “Nellie and I had a lovely visit. She has agreed to help me on Saturday. I need your promise that you will help me, too, Jack. You will have to bring Peter here after his meeting on Saturday.”

  “Miss Pamela, this goes against my better sense, it does! The mister will pop some blood vessels when he finds out what you’ve done.”

  “Jack, before the night is over, he will no doubt pop several.”

  Peter stood in the usual spot waiting for Jack to bring round the carriage. For several days, Pamela had been acting oddly. Her chattering on incessantly about drivel had actually become tedious. Every time he mentioned his birthday or what they might do on Saturday evening, she changed the subject.

  Jack also seemed on edge. Contrary to Pamela, Jack barely spoke to him. This morning, Pamela announced she had a special birthday surprise planned. She said Jack would know where to meet her. Peter couldn’t help but wonder what on earth she could be scheming.

  When Jack opened the door for him, Peter noticed his serious expression. Before he got in, he inquired as to the reason. “Jack, is there something wrong? You seem distressed.”

  “Sir, I can’t really say. Miss Pamela swore me to secrec
y.”

  Jack’s reluctance to speak to him finally fell into place. “What is she doing, Jack? Something has you in a twist.”

  “Sir, Miss Pamela instructed me to take you to her. That’s what I’m on about.”

  Trying to control his temper, both Peter’s hands rolled into fists. “Where, Jack?” He already knew the answer in his belly.

  “Miss Nellie’s, sir.”

  “Cunting hell! Has she lost her bloody mind?” Peter jumped into the cab. “Take me there, Jack, as fast as that blasted horse can manage.”

  Jack slammed the door shut. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” He hopped into the driver’s seat, muttering, “Happy birthday, sir.”

  When Jack stopped in front of Nellie’s, Peter leapt out of the cab. Jack stayed in the driver’s seat, fully expecting Peter to drag Pamela out of the front door straightaway.

  It took every bit of self-control Peter possessed to keep from kicking the front door open. Putting his hand on the latch, he took a deep breath and reminded himself of his stature. He would not make a scene, as long as Pamela agreed to leave quietly.

  Opening the door, he quickly surveyed the tavern. He did not see her among the few seamen sitting at the tables drinking ale. He also did not see Nellie. Trying not to draw attention to himself, he went up to the bar. “Henry, where is she?”

  “Who, sir?”

  Peter ground his teeth together, his impatience nearly besting him. “Miss Pamela Kingston. I understand from my man Jack she asked to meet me here.”

  Henry chuckled good-naturedly, further infuriating Peter. “Oh, yes, of course. She is with Miss Nellie.”

  “Where?”

  “I believe in Miss Nellie’s quarters, sir.”

  With no other formality, Peter went through the side curtain and up the staircase. The door to Nellie’s sitting room stood open. Nellie sat at the table, sipping tea. He did not see Pamela.

  “Bonsoir, Monsieur Rennard. I’ve been expecting you.” Peter had no inclination to be polite.

  “Where the bleeding devil is she, Nellie? I want her out of here, now!”

  “That is up to Pamela. She is a grown woman. She can do as she pleases.”