Lizzie, My Love

by Sara Bennett - Lizzie, My Love

  Lizzie frowned. “You mean to tell me he would ruin my sister, and leave her to face the consequences?”

  Jason Wilson opened his mouth and closed it again. He bowed his head with a sigh.

  “And he means to do this to my sister?”

  “I feel sure, before we make landfall, he means to... well...”

  Lizzie knew what he meant. And she knew, too, that Jane was silly enough and infatuated enough to offer little or no resistance. And then she would be ruined, and by such a one as Hezekiah Gray. It must not be.

  “Miss Banister?”

  She had forgotten Jason Wilson, and looked up with the light of battle in her brown eyes.

  “Thank you, sir. You’ve been most generous in informing me of this... well, I thank you with all my heart.”

  He sighed, relieved of his burden of guilt. He admired this girl, and pitied her. Hezekiah annoyed him often with his careless attitudes to convention, and perhaps he was a little jealous that someone should have so little conscience. It would do him good for once to be outwitted by Miss Elizabeth Banister. “Thank you, Miss Banister,” he said with sincerity.

  Lizzie glanced down the deck, watching as Gray and Jane dawdled by the gangway to the steerage. Jane was laughing up into his face, and as she watched Gray stooped and whispered something in her ear, managing to brush her cheek with his lips as he did so. His attitude was suddenly so predatory that Lizzie shivered. He would not have her, he would not! She was determined on it. And when Lizzie was determined on something it usually came to pass.

  CHAPTER TWO

  FOR A moment Lizzie lay in the darkness, heart thudding, still caught in the nightmare which had woken her from her slumber. The ship creaked about her, the sound mingling with the snores and sighs of the women lying in the stuffy midships, serving out their long sentence of waiting before reaching their new homeland.

  Thinking of it made Lizzie sigh, and she turned over, shivering a little under the thin cover of the blanket. She frowned, and reached out a hand to the space beside her.

  “Jane?”

  The space was empty.

  She sat up, pushing her unruly hair out of her eyes and gazing about her, thinking... hoping, her sister may have felt ill and risen to go to the porthole for some air. But the big, stuffy room was full of prone bodies, and no Jane.

  A sudden tremor shook her, composed of fear and anger. Jane! No wonder she had been so affectionate this evening, her conscience must have been troubling her mightily. And no wonder she had hugged Lizzie when she tried to make her see sense about Mr. Gray and said, “I can look after myself, you know!” What had they been speaking of? The stars, that was it. Jane had been wide-eyed over how much Zek Gray seemed to know about them. Good God, would she really go up on deck and meet him? She knew the women were not allowed up there after dark!

  Without a word, Lizzie began to pull on her boots, and swung her shawl about her head and shoulders, to keep out the worst of the cold. She tiptoed across the planks, and, her mind whirling with those tales of rapine, slipped out of the door into the passageway.

  Up on deck she was alone. The sea lay dark and heaving all about them, broken by the darker patterns of the ship’s spars and rigging. The only sounds were those of water and ship, interspersed with the man-made sounds of the piano tinkling from the direction of the saloon, and the soft laughter of the seamen from the steerage. Above her, the sky was awash with stars, more than she had ever seen in London, and so clear and close. For a moment she forgot her mission in the wonder of the sky, and stood gazing upwards, the evening breeze tossing the ends of the shawl and molding her woollen nightgown to her slim body.

  “Jane?”

  The whisper came from behind her, and she spun around. The man was standing a short distance from her, full in the starlight, while she was in the shadow of the cabin. She would have known him even if it were pitch dark. The arrogant stance, the way he held his head. Words of fury cluttered her tongue, and while she was still trying to sort out some comprehensible sentence, he came forward to stand before her, and wrapped strong arms about her.

  Suddenly, she was pressed against a hard, masculine chest, her face smothered by his shirt, his heart beating in her ear, her body a captive of his. The experience was surprising and so novel to her, she was stunned, and stood, letting him hold her.

  “Jane?” the voice whispered. “I thought you weren’t coming, you minx. I shouldn’t have doubted you, should I? Even your dragon sister couldn’t keep you from me, hmm?”

  Rage stiffened her, but already his hands had tightened about her, pushing her bosom to his shirt-front. The faint scent of cologne mingled with the odor of tobacco from the smoky saloon.

  “You’ve undressed for the occasion, I see,” he murmured, mocking her, and his lips came down hard on hers.

  For a moment she was too surprised to do anything but allow the experience to wash over her, reminding her vaguely of that other stolen kiss. He was kissing her cheeks, her closed eyelids, then her mouth again. Little, light kisses, deepening suddenly with passion, as though the game were over and the serious business had begun. She lay pliant, dizzy and oddly loath to break the spell.

  He rested a moment, his cheek to her brow, and she felt his hands warm as he smoothed her back and shoulders. His quick catch of breath brought her out of her reverie, and for a moment she thought he was going to thrust her from him, but then he had relaxed again and was caressing her again. But more urgently now, so that she became afraid and began to struggle to be free.

  “Ah no, you’ll not escape me so easily,” he hissed, like a stage villain Lizzie had once seen, and squeezed her so hard her breath went. He began to kiss her again, a long, practized kiss designed to force her response. By this time Lizzie was quite dizzy with emotions. She tingled with them, and ached for she knew not what. Her head was pounding, and her breath uneven. She began, unthinkingly, to kiss him back.

  ‘”That’s better,” he whispered, and she could have sworn he was laughing at her.

  She put her arms about his neck, and his hands slid down to the small of her back, pressing her against his own body. She knew then, quite suddenly, that she would never be able to get close enough to him, and the thought shocked her profoundly, so that she was hardly aware of him sliding his warm palm up over her ribs, to cup her breast.

  His breathing had grown alarmingly fast, and he whispered against her ear, “Who would have thought you’d be such a little furnace.” Then, “I know you want me as much as I want you. I can feel your heart beating for me.” The warm hand squeezed her, making her stiffen with sudden terror.

  Lizzie jerked away like one bitten, and stood facing him, her head thrown back, her bosom heaving. “You lecher! You would have ruined my sister, but you’ll not ruin me!”

  For a moment the dark figure was still, and then, unbelievably, he laughed. She stared, and started forward as he went on laughing.

  “I’m sorry,” he managed after a moment, “but you sounded so much like a penny romance, I… ” He took a shaky breath, running his fingers back through his hair. “Didn’t you enjoy my play-acting,” he said in more serious tones. “As soon as I knew it was you I redoubled my efforts to please.”

  “But... you mean you knew it was me?”

  “Of course. You and your sister are hardly similar in build, are you?” She knew he had raised his eyebrow, even though it was too dark to see properly. “Why did you substitute for your sister, Miss Banister? Are you sacrificing yourself at the altar of her questionable innocence? Giving yourself up to the big, bad man in her place?”

  The light from the saloon windows above fell on his features as he came forward. He was smiling his dangerous smile, and the black eyes gleamed like oil on water. “Well?” he said. “I thought you’d faint in my arms, but you enjoyed it, didn’t you? Who’d have thought it!”

  Lizzie felt her temper rising to ungovernable heights, mixed to an even more explosive brew by humiliation and hurt. She had
always had a temper, but managed to keep it in check. Girls with no money and a lot of pride could not afford to have tempers. But now it was soaring to unimagined heights as she faced this loathsome, drawling rake.

  “I would as soon kiss a... a slug as you,” she gasped. “You vain, strutting monster. I’ve seen better men than you in the Clerkenwell gutters.”

  She heard his indrawn breath, and knew he was angry. “Indeed,” he said, his voice like ice. She had never seen Mr. Gray angry before, and by the sound of his voice she was glad she could not see him now. Some of her own rage wavered. “You should be grateful that I gave you the chance to be my paramour, Miss Banister,” he added with cold mockery. “Let me hasten to assure you I would never have made such an offer in other circumstances.”

  “How dare you presume I would wish you to!”

  He laughed softly, making her step back although he had not moved. “Come, come, Miss Banister. You enjoyed it as much as I; have the honesty to admit it. You squirmed over me for more.”

  “I did not, you toad!”

  He caught her arm, but she pulled away, glaring at him and breathing hard. “Have I hurt its feelings,” he murmured in soft, steely tones. Then, brusquely, “Your sister is at least honest about what she wants and doesn’t want. You have to hide your feelings under a vinegary exterior!”

  “I hate you.”

  He laughed. “So we’re down to the basics now, are we?”

  “You toad.”

  ‘You’ve called me that already, Miss Banister.” He hesitated, and when he spoke again his voice was almost a purr, “I’ve always liked a bit of vinegar in a woman. Too much sweetness is cloying. Vinegar gives an exciting tartness, an extra challenge.”

  “You don’t seriously expect me to –”

  “To believe I find you attractive? But I do!” he laughed again, and caught her upper arms. “I do indeed. You hate me, and that’s a challenge in itself.”

  Something in the way he was standing suddenly shot her through with fear, and she tried to pull herself away and run. He pulled her back even as she moved, and held her against him so hard her breath puffed out of her lungs. She closed her eyes as he stooped to kiss her, only thinking how rough and hurtful he was. He was a callous, cruel lecher, a wicked, black-hearted...

  “Don’t fold your lips like that, girl!” he hissed in her ear. His fingers forced her chin up, and he said, “Kiss me properly, like you did before.” His mouth teased her, and his fingers slid around to her nape, jerking up into the unbound thickness of her hair, which the slipping shawl had uncovered. His other hand was, unthinkably, stroking her breast through the woollen nightgown she had saved so hard to purchase for the voyage. “Put your arms about me, so,” and he draped her arms about his neck and held her fast against him. “Very good, Miss Banister,” he mocked.

  She opened her mouth to call him something she had heard one of the workhouse girls call the fish-boy, but he stopped her with another kiss. For a moment she felt as though her insides were molten and there was a shaft of intense delight. Was she after all as weak-willed as Jane? she thought with real despair, her life-long principles melting like butter about her. She had considered herself far above such things as bodily delights, and here she was swooning from a kiss in the arms of a handsome, feckless lecher!

  “Please,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. He stiffened at the sound of the word, and held her a little away so that the saloon light fell on her features. She felt him study her, though she dared not meet his gaze. It sounded almost as if he sighed, but the next moment he was as sarcastic as ever, disabusing her mind of the idea he might be regretting his actions.

  “Psst, you’re too thin, Miss Banister! You need to put on flesh.”

  She pulled away, the spark of rage bringing her back to life. He watched her, and his mouth twisted in laughter. “Leave me alone,” she began, not for a moment expecting him to.

  “As you will,” he bowed slightly. “Thank you for your company, Miss Banister. I have enjoyed it... very much.”

  He was gone before she realized it, leaving her very confused and ashamed. The stars above mocked her, and her cheeks burned. She put cold hands to them, biting her lips. What in God’s name had got into her to behave so... so wantonly? She must be feverish, it was the only explanation. And contradictorily, how dared he suddenly decide she was too thin and leave her like that?

  Jane was still not back when Lizzie lay down on her bunk, and she was almost glad to be alone. She pressed her cheek to her hand, going over and over what had happened. How could she, Lizzie Banister, have allowed herself to be... to be fondled by that man? She bit her lip, blocking the memories, and almost cried out when Jane tapped her arm.

  “Lizzie? Are you ill?”

  “No, I... I...” Lizzie sat up, all personal thoughts flying from her mind as she glared at the dark silhouette of her sister. “Where were you, Miss?”

  Jane stepped back from the sharpness of Lizzie’s voice, and several women close by shushed her. “I was walking,” she whispered back, “and thinking. What did you think I was doing?” she added shrewdly, and Lizzie was silent. Jane came closer, “I can look after myself, Lizzie,” she said gently. “And make up my own mind about... things.”

  Lizzie felt her breath go out in relief. Her sister was not so easily led after all! She need not have gone so foolishly to her rescue, she need not have gone through that experience with that man. “All right,” she said, “go to sleep.”

  But Lizzie lay awake for a long time, remembering. In fact, her head ached with remembering, and she closed her eyes at last, listening to the creak and groan of the ship’s timbers.

  **

  She woke next morning to a headache and dark circled eyes. Jane dragged her out into the fresh air, and she went reluctantly. She didn’t want to see that man, but she knew it would be equally ridiculous to lurk below decks until they made land. She must act as if nothing had happened, as if it meant nothing. Unless of course he had told others! She pushed the horror of that aside. He could not do so without making himself look as ridiculous as she.

  The weather was perfect, and the blue sky lifted her spirits somewhat. Jane went with some of the younger girls to watch as the mariners caught flying fish, and Lizzie sat alone, eyes closed, letting the usual sounds wash about her.

  “Miss Banister.”

  She turned, frowning furiously. Humor shone in his eyes, and mockery. He sat down beside her, and she shifted away like a scalded cat. The laughter gleamed, so that he veiled his eyes with dark lashes. “Miss Banister, you look rather flushed. Are you well?’”

  He observed the color come into her pale cheeks, and the indignation of her gasp. “I am perfectly well!”

  His gaze took in her face with leisurely pleasure. “You are really quite striking,” he said at last, as though surprised he should find it so. “Not in the ordinary way at all. If you were to leave those drab gowns and wear something with a little more color in it. I can see you in pale blue silk, lying back among cushions, with feathers –”

  She stood up, trembling with a mixture of rage and fright. “I don’t wish to hear any more!”

  He bit his lips, and stood up to face her. “Miss Banister, forgive me. I digress. I sought you out this morning because I wanted to offer you my assistance.”

  She was surprised, and suspicious. He saw both in her eyes, and his mouth twitched with laughter. “You surprise me,” she said, forcing the usual calm into her voice.

  “What did you expect me to do? Inform the entire ship?”

  He saw in her eyes that he was correct, and the humor was suddenly gone. “You have a fine opinion of me, I see,” he murmured briskly, and she realized with some amazement that he was actually hurt. “Well, the truth is, Miss Banister, I wished to offer you my help. I have some influence in Sydney Town, and if you are looking for work there I can do my best to get you some.”

  “I’ll bet you can.”

  He looked grim, and angr
y. “I assure you I am not offering you a dishonorable proposal. You are hardly the sort of woman I would wish to keep.” He watched with satisfaction as the insult registered and the color left her cheeks. They stared at each other like two cats, fur bristling, backs arched.

  “Work is not so easy to come by as you may have imagined,” he added in milder tones. “And I don’t often feel the urge to be the author of an unselfish act. Don’t deny me this one.”

  Lizzie scowled at him, and her voice was thick with malicious pleasure. “I wouldn’t take water from you, Mr. Gray, even if I were dying of thirst, so there! Take your job and... and ... I want nothing further to do with you, ever!”

  His lips thinned, and he looked at her with hard, black eyes. She lifted her chin, daring him to plead, to say anything in his defense. And then he bowed once, briskly, and said as if to a complete stranger, “Very well. I wish you luck. And one more thing...” black eyes flickered with his own malicious need to wound, “... remember me when you’re alone in your bed, Miss Banister, and how you enjoyed it!”

  Hatred surged through her, but she said nothing as he turned and walked away. It wasn’t true of course; he’d said it because she had rebuffed him. It didn’t mean a thing. If she kept repeating that to herself, she may just come to believe it.

  She had always prided herself on being such a sensible, calm woman. The perfect, efficient lady’s maid; a background shadow. Now, suddenly, she had been forced out into the light, blinking against the glitter of hard reality. He had shown her of what she might be capable, and it frightened her. Frightened her, too, that she could act so with a man she had claimed to loathe; a self-confessed rake with no morals and no principles whatsoever. His pretence at helping her find work she dismissed at once as some devious plot to bring her to her knees. She had won that round, anyway. Why did she feel, then, as if the game were not over?