by Rebecca King
Tahlia glanced briefly out of the window. “But it is only dawn. Who can be delivering things at this time of day?”
“It is a deuced odd time for deliveries, I don’t mind saying so,” he muttered as he handed the package over. “But the man didn’t wait for me to say anything. He just shoved the package at me and then left.”
Tahlia snorted as she accepted the package and studied it.
“Who is it from?” Tahlia murmured thoughtfully. She wasn’t really asking anybody but Cecily considered it a question.
“I dunno,'” Cecily replied with a shrug. “Open it and see.”
The rather casual relationship between the three of them was unusual to say the least. But then, nothing Tahlia ever did was normal or fit within the parameters deemed acceptable by London’s standards. It concerned her little, though, given how lowly she considered them to be.
“Nobody in London would care whether I was here or not. I certainly didn’t inform anybody that I intended to return,” Tahlia muttered.
She lifted her brows at Oscar and Cecily who both shook their heads.
“So how did the sender find out I am here?” Tahlia persisted.
Oscar shrugged. “Open it,” he urged. He tucked his hands into his pockets while Tahlia began to tug at the string binding the outer wrapping around the package.
“I wonder what it is?” She whispered as she unfolded the hessian wrapped around a small black box.
Excitement warred with curiosity as she lifted the lid. The first thing she saw was a small white square card which contained some writing. Holding the box in one hand, she tipped the note toward the fire so she could read the scrawling script properly, and read aloud:
To a delightful gem, I hope this pleases you, my dear. Until we meet again. Yours, Bingham.
Tahlia’s excitement evaporated in an instant. She stared at the box in her hand warily. Her first instinct was to slap it onto the table, and instruct Oscar to take it away. Instead, with something akin to foreboding, she carefully removed the lid completely and studied the unwelcome contents.
“Oh, dear Lord,” she muttered in dismay.
“What is it, ma’am?” Cecily gasped when she realised how pale Tahlia had gone. When Tahlia didn’t reply, she peered at the box’s contents over Tahlia’s shoulder.
“Why, ma’am, they are beautiful,” she gasped but then hesitated when she assessed the necklace a little more closely. “Well, they are a bit old, but they are still pretty.”
“No, they are not, Cecily, they are ghastly,” Tahlia argued.
She stared down at the offending jewels in distaste and snapped the lid closed with a resounding thud as she stared at the small card.
“What’s wrong with them?” Cecily asked in confusion.
“Everything,” Tahlia retorted. “It is not the jewels. It is the sender.”
“Do you not like the sender?” Cecily asked without a thought to the fact that it was none of her business. Matters like this had nothing to do with a maid who shouldn’t ask such questions, but she did anyway.
“No, the sender is an oaf. Not only is he old, but he is big, pompous, and should have absolutely no idea I am here,” Tahlia stormed. “Assuming that these come from the Bingham I think I know.”
“Which Bingham is it?” Oscar asked curiously.
Tahlia doubted he would know the man, but told him anyway. “Bingham Montague. He was an old acquaintance of my uncle’s. I didn’t really know him all that well. We certainly were not well enough acquainted for him to consider it acceptable to do something like this.”
Agitated, she stood up and began to pace around.
“I want them gone.” She declared suddenly. “I don’t even want them in the house.”
“Can you send them back so soon?” Oscar asked with a frown.
He didn’t know much about how this kind of thing worked, but suspected that the sender would be deeply offended to be rebuffed so quickly.
“Yes. Package them back up please, Cecily,” Tahlia ordered. She turned to Oscar. “Send them back to Bingham Montague with instructions that the lady-”
Tahlia suddenly stopped and stared blankly at the wall.
“Ma’am?” Cecily prompted after several moments of expectant silence.
Jerking out of her thoughts, Tahlia threw the maid an apologetic look.
“Wrap them back up. There is no note to go with it. I am not going to even bother sending a note back to him.” She shoved the white card into the box. “I am going to send the whole lot back untouched.”
“Why not send a return note to tell him you are not interested in them?” Oscar asked curiously. “If you send them back untouched he might suspect there has been a delivery problem and pay a visit in person.”
“Then if he does appear on the doorstep he won’t be allowed in,” Tahlia argued.
“If you are sure,” Oscar replied doubtfully.
“I am sure. Besides, if I send a note then he will tell everyone that I am here,” Tahlia reasoned. “I wonder if he saw me in the carriage on the way here yesterday. I don’t want to tell anybody I am back in London. If I don’t send any message, not only am I effectively telling him to go away, but he has no confirmation that I am here.”
Pleased with her deduction, Tahlia nodded in satisfaction and disappeared behind the retiring screen to get dressed.
“Take the tray back downstairs please, Cecily. I will be down in a thrice,” she called. “But come back up again. I need help with my corsets.”
In the room, Oscar and Cecily stared at each other. Silently, Cecily shrugged. Oscar shook his head in consternation but admitted that something this expensive should go back if it was unwanted. As instructed, he collected the package and its wrappings, and carried them back downstairs leaving Cecily to manage the tray.
Once alone, Tahlia sat at her dressing table and began to tug a brush mercilessly through her hair. Her day had already started badly, and had rapidly gone downhill since, and it hadn’t even really started yet. It made her wonder what life had in store for her. The last thing she needed at the moment was another difficulty to resolve. It was hard enough to have to come back to London at all.
“I wish I wasn’t here,” she whispered as she studied herself in the mirror and noted the ravages the last three years had wrought upon her. Suddenly she was transported back to when she had last sat at this dressing table.
It had been on the morning she had been due to depart London for what she had considered then to be the last time. She had been relieved even then, to see the back of the place and everyone in it. The only upset had been that she would not be able to see her uncle as often as she would have liked to. Unfortunately, given the difficulties he had faced because of her recent scandalous behaviour, leaving was the best option for the both of them.
“You don’t have to go,” Henry said in a voice that warned her that it was best that she did.
“It is the right thing to do. We cannot go on like this, especially now,” Tahlia reasoned. She was so immersed in her emotions that she was oblivious to the tears rolling steadily down her cheeks. “People are slamming doors in our faces wherever we go. We will soon be the scorn of society if we don’t do something to stop this.”
“It is not as important as you think, my dear. My friends haven’t said a word to me, and would certainly never slam the door in my face,” Henry offered.
In spite of his words, Tahlia knew he was lying. They had both read the note Henry had received only yesterday. The hostess of a soiree he had been invited to was now claiming to have miscounted the numbers and would invite him another time. They both knew there would be no such future invitation now that word had spread of Tahlia’s shameful behaviour.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered, not for the first time.
Henry nodded but didn’t speak.
Tahlia wasn’t sure her legs were going to hold her up for much longer, so she flopped down into the chair before the fire with a shaky sigh. Sh
e remained rigidly tense and nervous as she waited for her uncle to break the tense silence.
“I need to leave London. We both know that,” she prompted when she couldn’t stand the anxiety a moment longer.
In spite of the situation, she silently willed him to offer an alternative to leaving behind everything she had ever known, and setting out on her own. But he didn’t. Henry didn’t speak at all at first. Instead, he stared absently into the fire as though it would provide him with the answers they needed. Of course, it didn’t. When he did look at her, it was with something akin to regret in his eye.
“I have a house in Rutland you can stay in. It is in a small village called Meckleton, and should be suitable for your needs. There is everything you need in the village. It is a small town, really. I know it is a long way away, but it will give you the peace and distance you need,” he said quietly.
His implacable tone warned her that it was the best she was going to get.
“I haven’t heard you mention the place before,” she replied carefully.
At times like this, when her uncle had that rather austere look on his face, he appeared quite unapproachable. It made her wonder if she really knew him at all. But she didn’t say anything; she couldn’t, not after what she had done to them both.
“I inherited it from your father. I didn’t want it, really, because I have my own residence in the country.” Henry snorted. “I don’t even use that. You can have the house in Rutland. I am sure it would be what your father wanted.”
Tahlia teared up but, before she could speak, Henry sighed.
“It might be best for you to retreat to the country for a while, yes. Once all the gossip has died down then you could return to London should you wish? Of course, you will be welcome here, but I would advise you to leave it for a while yet.”
Tahlia felt as though he had punched her in the stomach. Her breath lodged in her throat and she stared at him. It was tantamount to being thrown out on her ear. In that moment she realised that she had no choice but to remove herself and retire to the accommodation her uncle offered her in Meckleton; wherever that was. She had never been there before, but it certainly seemed a better place than the one she was in right now.
The sudden tinkle of the front door bell shattered the silence. Tahlia sucked in a deep breath. Her stomach dropped to her toes. She began to shake so badly that she struggled to remain motionless as she listened to the rapid clip of Oscar’s booted feet cross the marble floor outside of the door. The discordant hum of voices was impossible to identify, but neither Tahlia nor Henry moved as they waited. Moments later, the discreet knock on the door was preceded by Oscar, who entered and handed Henry a note.
Henry read it and shook his head in disgust.
“Nobody called to see us?” Tahlia whispered, her disappointment blossoming deep within as rapidly as her heart was breaking.
Oscar smiled sympathetically at her, and slowly shook his head before he let himself out.
Tahlia’s cursed her own foolishness as she felt what was left of her heart shatter completely. A brief visit would be the least amount of effort she had expected from him. It was galling to realise that she didn’t matter that much to him; that what they had shared had meant nothing.
Connor Humphries had simply taken everything she had offered, and had left to preserve his reputation as soon as they had been caught in flagrante delicto. It wasn’t as though she had expected him to offer for her. To be forced into marriage was the very last thing she wanted with any man, no matter how desirable they made her feel. It just would have been nice to know that the feelings she had for Connor had been reciprocated in some way. She needed to know that she hadn’t risked everything; her body, her reputation; her life; for a brief tryst in a stranger’s conservatory with a man who callously walked away.
Now, three weeks later, the damning realisation was that Connor Humphries was a scoundrel of the worst kind. Her uncle had tried to locate him, but all enquiries had, so far, come up with nothing. It appeared that his latest report confirmed that nobody had seen Connor since he had left the scene of the scandal. He had simply vanished off the face of the earth and left her to face the wrath of the gossips on her own.
“What on earth possessed you?” Henry suddenly burst out. “Were you not brought up better than that?”
Tahlia mentally winced. She had expected this very same question every day since the night of her shame. She still had no answers, and even now could do little about the fire of shame which burned in her cheeks. There was no choice but to face her uncle’s wrath as best she could, and allow him to vent his fury.
“I believed he was genuine,” she whispered, and winced when Henry snorted.
“How long were you – friends? Had it happened before?”
“No,” Tahlia wept. “No. No. No. I have never done anything like that before. Please, believe me. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”
“But you did,” Henry burst out. “You did, Tahlia. At a ball of all places.”
He began to march up around the room, his fists clenched in fury. Tahlia had never seen her usually calm and controlled uncle rage so. Given his current difficulties, all of which were because of her shameful behaviour, she could understand his agitation. She only wished she could find some way of venting the hurt that pummelled her.
“I apologise.”
“Did he promise you flowers? Marriage? What? He must have offered you something to make you forget your reputation, and mine, and be so reckless.”
“He didn’t promise me anything,” she whispered, her voice full of mortification.
“He took, and you gave.” The disgust in Henry’s voice was condemning in a way that warned Tahlia that she had lost his understanding.
“He has always been charming, and kind. I didn’t once consider that he was a bounder. He always behaved impeccably. He didn’t break any of the rules, and seemed genuinely interested in me. We danced, of course, but you yourself gave us permission to do that.”
“I didn’t give you permission for an intimate liaison with him,” Henry bellowed. He spun on his heel and glared at her in such contempt that Tahlia leaned back in her seat.
“I shouldn’t have,” she whispered.
“Sorry. That is not going to do either of us much good now, is it? Not now that the old harridans have seen you two. Why, the news has spread across London faster than the Great Fire.” Henry ran an agitated hand through his hair. “God knows, the scandal of your behaviour has caused about as much destruction.”
“I didn’t realise anyone saw us,” she offered weakly.
“It doesn’t matter whether the gossips saw you or not. It is the fact that you were seen at all that counts. People talk. Gossips get to hear about things like that regardless of what you do to try to shut them up. There is nothing you can do now. If you and your lover found yourselves incapable of keeping your hands to yourself, why on earth did you not go somewhere more discreet? Did you not stop to consider his morals when he didn’t even bother to wait until you were wed before he ruined you? Did you not care about him not having enough respect for you to even treat you better than a harlot? The man took you in the middle of the damned conservatory like a common -”
Tahlia remained mute, but each word her uncle uttered in scorn was emblazoned on her soul, scarring her in a way that nothing else could. She had firmly believed that Connor had cared for her and, although theirs had only been a brief union, he had been affectionate, attentive, and charming. Every time they had been together she had felt like the most precious person in the world. Nobody had ever made her feel like he did before. Their time together had been perfect, and she had revelled in every second of it. Connor was her perfect man; tall, handsome, distinguished. To be the recipient of his attentions had been thrilling, to the point that she had happily cast aside all doubts to spend more and more time in his company. The passion that had flared between them had been heady, and impossible to resist.
It was galling to
think of just how quickly she had handed herself to him on a silver platter. A few murmured endearments; several thorough kisses, and he had stolen her willpower so swiftly that neither of them had been able to stop. Until the quiet click of the door warned them they were no longer alone. It was too late then to go back and try to preserve her reputation. To her horror, Connor had remained impassive throughout the awful hour that followed, and had taken his leave of her as soon as Henry had arrived.
She hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
“Where is he?” she whispered.
“He has left town,” Henry announced flatly. “Your prince charming found the gossips too much for him. He has abandoned you. That’s what the note is about. I have asked the few friends of mine who are still talking to me to find out what they could about him. News is that this charlatan has appeared out of nowhere. He has been asking questions about Bingham, and his sister, Estelle, and several other people. There are rumours that he has been watching people but nobody knows why. He certainly doesn’t seem to have many connections, if any. This man could be a fraudster straight out of the slums for all I know.”
“He told me he lived in London,” Tahlia whispered.
She had no intention of trying to defend Connor. She just didn’t want her uncle to think her a complete fool.
Henry snorted. “You thought he was ‘nice’. You sacrificed everything for a tussle with him without any idea of his connections. Well, the man is a liar and a fraud, and a scoundrel of the worst kind. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t even have accommodation in London.”
“I am sorry,” Tahlia whispered. “I had no reason to believe he could be like that. He said he had to go away for a while, but would return as soon as he was able.”
Henry spun to face her. “Did he tell you when?” His voice lashed across the room.
“His manner was most determined,” Tahlia declared honestly. “But, no, he didn’t say when.”
“I am sure he was determined,” Henry spat. “He was determined to get under your skirts before he left.”