‘So you lost him?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I did hear him tell the cabbie to take him to Fulford.’
‘Fulford! What urgent business could he have here, at this time of night?’
‘No idea, sir. He came out pretty sharpish, though. And before that, it looked as though he was searching the house.’
Deep in thought, Robert stared at the clock. ‘Rachel,’ he said suddenly. ‘Louisa said he was furious because of his daughter’s friendship with the Bainbridges – particularly young Arthur. I’ll wager you anything she’s run to him!
‘With any luck,’ he added cheerfully, ‘she’s eloped with the young fool.’ Robert thought for a moment. ‘And if I recall correctly, I think the Tempests were supposed to be going away tomorrow. But if Rachel’s taken herself off, then our quarry may not be going on holiday after all. In which case, I may pin him down sooner than I thought…’
Robert rubbed his hands in satisfaction. ‘You’ve done well, Harris, and I’m more than grateful for your help. Now — expenses for the week — will a guinea cover it?’
‘That’s more than generous, sir.’
‘Never – you deserve it. All that remains is to establish beyond doubt the nature of that house he visited. It’s not one I’ve heard of, but I’ll take a chance and go there myself tomorrow evening.’
‘What about your other plans, sir?’
‘Ireland will have to wait. I’ll send a telegram in the morning. At the moment, Harris, this other matter is more important. I want to see the old goat squirm.’
The following evening, Robert sought out Hugh Darnley. His soft brown puppy’s eyes were troubled, and he was genuinely reluctant to talk about the Bainbridges, for he was fond of them. To gossip about the family he lodged with seemed impolite, especially as the Mess was buzzing with speculation.
‘I don’t deal in gossip,’ Robert said quietly, ‘and neither do you, I know that. I’m not asking out of idle curiosity, believe me. Do you remember Miss Elliott, Rachel Tempest’s companion?’
Darnley looked surprised. ‘Yes, of course I do. I’ve seen her often.’
‘Don’t ask me how I came by the information, but I happen to know that she was dismissed only last week because of Rachel Tempest’s friendship with young Arthur – dismissed without a reference. I happen to think it was extremely unjust – so, I’m interested to know what happened last night.’
Darnley was younger than Robert, soft-hearted and sentimental where women were concerned, but no fool. He gave Robert a speculative glance before replying. ‘Well, the first anyone knew of it was when the girl’s father came pounding on the door, demanding the return of his daughter. The Major was out, Mrs Bainbridge collapsed under the onslaught, and Poor Sophie was in hysterics.
‘I’d just come in when I heard the row – hadn’t had time to change. When I went down, Lily was giving him hell!’ With a short laugh, he said: ‘One thing about that girl, she’s got guts – and vocabulary like a trooper’s! Tempest was shocked rigid, I can tell you – didn’t need me to put a flea in his ear.’
‘Good for Lily,’ Robert said admiringly.
‘Anyway, once she’d said her piece, I tried to find out what it was all about. He said Rachel had run off, that he knew she was here, and if not here, then with Arthur, and he wanted her returning to her rightful home, et cetera, et cetera. Whereupon I assured him that she was not in the house, that Arthur was at his Mess, as far as I knew, and no one knew anything about his daughter. At that point he began to berate the Bainbridges as a family, and I’m afraid I lost my temper. When he refused to leave the house, I took his arm, twisted it up his back and marched him to the front door.’
‘Did you?’ Robert breathed. ‘By God, I wish I’d been there. You didn’t by any chance kick him down the steps while you were about it?’
‘No,’ Darnley replied modestly. ‘But I should have done – he was most insulting to me personally, and Her Majesty’s Cavalry in general.’
Robert snorted derisively. ‘Was he, by God? He’ll eat his words before I’ve done with him, I promise you that.’
‘Really? And what’s provoked you? Or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘Don’t ask,’ Robert replied grimly. ‘Anyway, go on — you didn’t finish your story.’
‘Yes, well, after I’d thrown him out, and the ladies had recovered from their hysterics, we all decided the man was mad. Rachel had no doubt gone to a relative – quite sensibly – and Arthur would be back at any minute to prove us correct.
‘But he didn’t. About eleven o’clock, the Major returned – he’d been to the Yorkshire Hussars’ Mess, and seen nothing of him. When the lad still hadn’t returned at midnight, Mrs Bainbridge was almost out of her mind with worry. As for Sophie, she was prostrate – how could her best friend betray them like this? — you know the sort of thing.’
‘Yes, I can imagine,’ Robert said as he signalled the servant to bring Darnley another whisky. ‘Very romantic when it happens to someone else, a little less amusing when your brother’s career is in jeopardy.’
‘If only the young fool asked permission – and it’s not as if the Bainbridges are unreasonable people. He’ll have to marry her now, of course,’ Darnley concluded, ‘having compromised her utterly.’
With a tight smile, Robert agreed.
‘It’s the heat, you know. They say people go off their heads in India, and I can quite believe it. It’s been so hot for so long —and we’re just not used to it.’ Darnley pulled at the tight neck of his uniform. ‘God, I wish it would rain.’
‘Not tonight,’ Robert protested with a grin. ‘I have an appointment in town, and I really must go and change. But I thank you for the information — and don’t worry, it’ll go no further.’
An hour later, he was alighting from a cab by the north-western gateway into the city. With Bootham Bar behind him, he glanced up Gillygate, experiencing a small stab of longing for Louisa as he did so. She had sent a note to assure him she was well, but it was frustratingly brief. A few lines about her mother’s reaction, together with her travel plans; but nothing about their hours together. He had hoped for something warmer, some clue as to how she was really feeling.
She would be in Lincolnshire now, he thought, but at least he had her address. As soon as this business with Rachel was clearer, he would reply with the latest news.
Walking along Bootham, the broad expanse of the asylum’s grounds caught his attention, and he shivered, momentarily thinking of Charlotte. With an effort, he dragged his eyes away, searching for street names on his left. The one he sought was a tidy avenue of large, well-kept houses, leading down towards the river. The house itself presented an innocuous face, and as he mounted the steps and rang the bell, he wondered briefly how much a place like this charged for services rendered. If Tempest was as tight-fisted as Louisa had intimated, then he must place his personal comfort high on the list of priorities.
A little maid answered and asked him to wait in the hall; a moment later a tall, thin, quietly-dressed woman of indeterminate age appeared. For one appalled moment, Robert thought he had made a mistake, that his judgement of Albert Tempest had been sadly wrong. Mind racing, seeking a legitimate excuse for his presence, he bowed low; but as he raised his head, he caught the calculating glance. Her eyes weighed him up in pounds, shillings and pence, and found him worth cultivating.
Playing for time and confirmation, he gave a slow smile, allowing his eyes to show generous appraisal; as the woman responded, he begged her forgiveness for the intrusion. ‘A friend of mine spoke most warmly of you, Madam, and as I happened to be in the neighbourhood, I chanced to call.’
‘And which friend would that be?’ she asked boldly, her eyes never leaving his.
‘Mr Tempest,’ he answered, wondering suddenly whether Albert Tempest might have used a different name. He let out a slow sigh of relief as she smiled.
‘Ah, yes, one of our most valued clients,’ she said smoothly. ‘Unfortunate
ly, Mr...’
‘Captain — Captain Devereux,’ he said with a quick smile, praying that his mother would forgive him for the use of her name in such circumstances.
Hard brown eyes brightened at the rank. ‘I cannot imagine how you know Mr Tempest,’ she said, with a swift, ironic smile. ‘But, no matter. As I was saying, Captain, we usually keep appointments here, and most of my ladies are engaged at present.’
Robert tried to sound disappointed; he virtually had the evidence he needed; it was hardly necessary to go upstairs. ‘Of course, my friend did mention that. I had hoped... but never mind, some other evening perhaps?’
The woman consulted a list. ‘You see, we like to match personalities wherever possible, Captain. I’m a great believer in people enjoying some kind of rapport,’ she added with another of those knowing smiles.
‘Oh, yes – indeed,’ he agreed with alacrity, suspecting that the clients must pay dearly for that kind of service.
‘I don’t suppose,’ she asked with a small frown of consideration, ‘that your tastes are anything like your friend’s?’
‘Well…’
‘I see they are,’ she commented coyly, and the coyness sat ill upon that hardened face. Like an aunt teasing a favourite nephew with a special gift, she announced that Miss Leonie happened to be free, and that Mr Tempest favoured her with his attentions. ‘If you are prepared to wait a few moments, Captain, I will see if Miss Leonie is able to receive you.’
‘But of course,’ Robert replied suavely, wondering if this were wise.
‘Do come through into the salon.’ She led the way from the unremarkable hall into a sumptuous waiting room, but before he could take a seat on a red plush sofa, she named the price he would have to pay.
She must be good, he reflected, handing over several guineas.
Copies of Italian Renaissance paintings littered the walls. Botticelli’s Birth of Venus competed with a reclining Venus by Titian, while yet another faced him, an obscure but erotic picture which aroused nothing more than a smile from Robert as he studied its crudity of posture and expression.
The little maid disturbed his amusement. In her black and white uniform she led the way upstairs, her slender back provoking feelings of dismay. Prostitution was one thing, but he hated to think of corruption, and it must be inevitable in a place like this.
The child halted before a door at the far end of the corridor. With a curtsey, she announced him and left.
From past experience Robert was not unprepared for the opulent, highly-perfumed boudoir; but all at once he found himself wondering how he could maintain the girl’s interest without having to take the goods for which he had paid.
Closing the door, he gave as genuine a smile as he could muster, allowing his eyes to take in the voluptuous presence of Miss Leonie. In a diaphanous silk peignoir, she reclined on a pink chaise-longue, her dark hair falling in fetching waves around her plump shoulders. She was perhaps twenty years old, but those dark and deep-set eyes were far older; she would not be easy to fool, he thought, as he approached her.
‘So, you’re a Captain?’ she asked provocatively, her voice light, the accent well-schooled. ‘Infantry or cavalry?’
‘Cavalry,’ he replied automatically.
‘Really?’ she said slyly, eyeing him up and down. ‘You should prove a novel experience, and no mistake. Come and sit down,’ she insisted, patting the cushion beside her. She caressed his shoulder, her hand sliding down the muscles of his arm, one fingernail raising a pleasurable and involuntary shiver.
He recognized the expertise with a wry smile, acknowledging the temptation she presented. He was a sensual man, physically fit and in his prime; he was also very much aware of his sexual needs. The fact that he had on occasions paid for that particular hunger to be assuaged bothered his conscience not at all. To Robert, it was like eating or sleeping, only less frequently required; and less immoral, in his eyes, than using pretended affection as the currency of exchange. There were women of easy virtue among his own class, but he had learned to steer clear of them. After Charlotte, emotional involvement seemed something he would never know again; and since meeting Louisa, he had remained celibate, not from any conscious decision, but largely from lack of desire for any other woman.
The fires which had been so carefully banked down, however, had recently been rekindled with a vengeance. For the past week he had lived on a knife-edge of physical desire, remembering her, longing for her, castigating himself for not making love with her on what could prove to be the only opportunity he would ever have. She haunted his dreams, ever elusive at the point of satisfaction, so that he woke feeling drained and angry with himself, and, scorning the simplest solution, mortified his recalcitrant body with cold baths and brisk early-morning walks. He felt that he was being faintly ridiculous, but his renunciation of Louisa a week ago had resolved itself into a kind of vow. Sooner or later, he and she would be together, with or without the church’s blessing; and for that day he was prepared to wait.
But this self-control of his was a fragile thing. He felt he should confess his intent to Miss Leonie before she tempted him too far.
‘I won’t remove my jacket, if you don’t mind,’ he said with a gentle smile. ‘Really, all I want to do is talk to you.’
‘Talk, love?’ Miss Leonie asked, her astonishment sending the genteel accents fleeing.
‘You’re a lovely girl,’ he said sincerely, and steeled himself to lie. ‘The fact is that I’m a happily married man — otherwise, I would be only too pleased to avail myself of your generosity.’
‘But –?’
‘But I’m here on business, to ask you to betray a confidence, for which I am quite prepared to pay. I want to know about one of your clients, how often he visits this excellent establishment.’
‘Look here,’ she said sharply, ‘you’re not a policeman, are you? ‘Cos if you are, I want you to know we have an arrangement with one of your superiors —’
‘Do I look like a policeman?’ he interrupted.
‘Well, no. But you can never tell these days. Getting quite posh, some of ‘em.’
‘I’m not a policeman. I want information for a private reason. One of your clients is blackmailing a friend of mine, and I intend to put a stop to it, with a bit of blackmail of my own. Will you help me?’
She eyed him shrewdly. ‘Well, now, that rather depends on who it is. If I tell, that bloke’s sure to stop coming here, and Mrs Dodsworth won’t like it. She’s trying to build the place up, not run it down.’
Robert said that he would make it worth her while, but Miss Leonie was still unsure. ‘Tell me who it is first.’
He took a deep breath. ‘His name is Tempest.’
The girl laughed, an unrestrained guffaw of pure mirth. ‘Oh, him! My God! Just tell me what you want to know! I shan’t miss the nasty old sod, that’s for sure, and neither will Mrs Dodsworth. Tight as a tick’s arse, he is. Give us a couple o’ quid and I’ll tell you all you want to know.’
Robert sighed at the price, but handed over two gold sovereigns.
‘Well, love, he comes here once a week, every Friday,’ she said, locking the money away in a small wooden box. ‘Let me see, when did he start coming? Must have been not long after we came here — end of February, beginning of March — somebody introduced him, I forget who. Anyway, as I say, he comes here every week, and every week we go through the same performance. He has to insult me, and I have to get mad – really mad, shouting at him, calling him all sorts, which the way I feel about him, isn’t too bloody difficult. But it’s exhausting, love, far harder than the usual things I get paid for. And he don’t like paying extra, the mean old bugger.’
‘Did he visit you last Friday night?’
‘Yesterday?’
‘No, the week before.’
‘Yes — yes, he did. Now that was queer, ‘cos he was late for his appointment, and he isn’t usually. Like bloody clockwork, as a rule. And funny you should mention last week —
he didn’t want no insults neither. Easiest half-hour I’ve had in a long time…’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Robert murmured, feeling his anger rise afresh.
Miss Leonie watched his face, noted the hardening of his mouth and jaw. His eyes were veiled, but she knew intuitively that Albert Tempest was about to suffer, and the knowledge excited her. She resumed her seat, began to stroke the fine hair at the back of his neck; this one was handsome, not an ounce of fat on his tall frame, he had to have a lovely body beneath that expensive suit.
‘Sure you won’t stay, love?’ she whispered persuasively. ‘Your wife won’t miss this once, will she? I bet you’re not a high days and holidays merchant.’
Robert grinned at her. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘I’m sure I would, love, if only you’d give me the chance.’
He stood up, smoothing a hand over his ruffled hair. ‘You’re very tempting, Miss Leonie, but I’ve got what I came for, and I can’t thank you enough for your help.’ Before he opened the door, he turned and smiled at her. ‘As a small recompense, would you like me to recommend you?’
Her eyes held his for a long moment, her regret obvious. ‘I never say no, love.’
Twenty-three
The days were long and hot, sun beating down from a sky so deeply blue it seemed to touch the horizon in a solid mass. Billowing columns of white cloud, sometimes edged with grey, threatened from time to time, while village sages shook their heads and clicked their tongues, prophets of doom enjoying every pessimistic warning, urging the workforce on. In their efforts to reap the early harvest, to gather all in before the glorious weather broke, as break it must, whole families worked the fields from dawn to dusk, traditional rivalries forgotten.
Enjoying the spirit of rare fraternity, John Elliott worked along with the rest, organizing teams of horses, loading the stacks to ever-increasing heights. Man could work all hours God sent, but the great shires were protected and cared for like nursing mothers, pulling the enormous loads for only a few hours a day. Their heads were guarded against sun and flies by soft straw hats, each plunging footfall accompanied by a nod, each nod by a flopping whisk of the brim. They were strong, beautiful creatures, and John’s love for them was deep and abiding, his tenderness and pride in the shires far exceeding his regard for the Squire’s overbred hunters, which he considered vain, silly animals, too temperamental by half.
Louisa Elliott Page 20