A Lord for the Wallflower Widow

by Ann Lethbridge

  Once the tent flap closed, it took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside. To his surprise, the woman sitting at the table on the other side of the room was not some old crone, but a rather attractive girl with dark brown eyes and black hair pulled severely back under a kerchief. She seemed to be draped in brightly coloured scarves. Her idea of a gypsy costume, no doubt.

  She waved towards the chair placed on the other side of the table. ‘Sit, please.’

  Her heavily accented voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up for some reason. Ignoring the strange sensation, he led Carrie to the chair and stood behind her.

  Madame Rose held out her hand palm up.

  Carrie glanced over her shoulder at him. ‘She wants her money.’

  Avery handed over a coin. The woman looked at it closely, then it seemed to disappear, no doubt up her sleeve. She must think him a Johnny Raw if she expected him to fall for those sorts of tricks. He realised she was staring at him. When she saw that she had his attention she jerked her chin. ‘Stand over there. I wish to be private with the lady.’

  ‘I’m not leaving.’

  ‘I did not say leave.’ She glared at him. ‘Move over there.’

  There was another chair in the corner adjacent to the opening into the tent. Carrie nodded. ‘I’ll be quite safe with you there.’

  Safer than she likely knew. His travels had taught him to be alert for danger and to always be prepared. He therefore never went anywhere without a knife in his pocket. If the woman was really some sort of seer, she would know that already. More likely she would have guessed he would not come to a fairground completely unarmed. He didn’t believe in her nonsense, but he had no doubt she would be skilled at judging people. He retired to his corner and kept a close eye on the woman as well as the entrance.

  After a moment’s discussion, it seemed that Carrie had decided to have her palm read. As the gypsy’s voice dropped into a low mutter, Avery discovered he could not make out a single word. There was some chatter back and forth as if the woman was asking Carrie questions. The woman bent over Carrie’s palm, turning it this way and that to catch the light and muttering in a low monotone. He felt his eyelids droop. Damn, it was warm in here.

  Carrie gasped at something the woman said.

  Avery straightened, his gaze flying to her face, but while she had pulled back a little, she did not seem to be in any danger. Madame Rose said something that sounded comforting and non-threatening and Carrie leaned forward again, peering intently at the finger tracing the lines on her palm. The muttering began again.

  A few moments later it was over and Carrie was getting up.

  Avery rose and strode forward. ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked Carrie. She looked shaken, but not exactly scared.

  ‘Yes. Everything is fine.’

  ‘What did she tell you?’

  She laughed. ‘Not to tell anyone what she said. Really, it is nothing but a lot of nonsense.’

  The girl grinned. ‘You wait and see, my lady. You will know I am right and you will thank me.’

  ‘She will never see you again,’ Avery said firmly.

  The girl shook with silent laughter and the bangles hanging from her ears and festooning her wrists jingled. ‘Take your seat, sir.’

  Carrie started to move away.

  ‘You may stay, my lady,’ the girl said. ‘There is nothing for him to know that he does not already know. Bring her the chair, if you would, sir?’

  These people always talked in riddles. It was part of their stock in trade, but he carried the chair over, then sat in the one vacated by Carrie and held out his palm.

  ‘No, no, my lord. It is the cards for you, I think.’

  More mumbo jumbo. He shrugged. ‘As you please.’

  She began laying out a deck of large cards with a strange design on their backs. Once she had them set out in rows, she began turning them over one by one and muttering. After she turned the last card over, she gave him an odd look. ‘Your fortune intertwines with this lady’s, but the path is not straight.’

  She sat back.

  ‘That’s it?’ he asked. ‘That tells me nothing. Clearly, this lady and I are friends. Anyone could tell me that. What about the first race of the Season at Newmarket? Do you have a prediction?’

  She wrinkled her nose and peered at the cards. ‘A black horse with a white flash on its nose.’

  ‘What about it?’

  She stared at it again. ‘It will change your fortune.’

  ‘How? Good or bad?’

  She shrugged. ‘It depends on what path you choose before then.’

  He laughed. ‘You really are a charlatan, aren’t you? Hedging your bets very well, my dear.’

  Carrie shifted uncomfortably. He took her hand in his. He didn’t know what the woman had told her, but he didn’t want her taking it too seriously.

  The gypsy girl gave him a cold stare. ‘I can only tell you what I see, but estrangement from someone important in your life is a key turning point. Only by swallowing your pride will you ever know true happiness.’

  His pride? He was not the one who was proud. If it wasn’t impossible, he would have said his father had paid her to tell him this nonsense. He laughed. ‘You know who I am, don’t you?’

  ‘I have no idea. I am only telling you what I see.’

  ‘Rubbish. Anyone who knows me would have said just what you said. Your barker discovered who I was and told you, so you could pretend to know what you are talking about. I have met your sort before. Many times.’

  ‘The cards tell me that it was once your dearest wish to be a soldier when you were a lad. But you chose a darker path.’

  His stomach fell away. No one knew of his youthful dream. Absolutely no one. Apart from his father, who had refused to allow it. He swallowed the sudden dryness in his throat. ‘A lucky guess. Every boy wants to be a soldier.’ Why did he sound unconvinced?

  The woman touched one of the cards. ‘You are coming to a fork in the road of life, my lord. Choose wisely. At the moment, you appear poised to head in the wrong direction.’

  ‘What are these choices you speak of?’

  Her voice changed to an odd sort of monotone. ‘The cards have spoken.’ She shook her head as if to clear it. She gathered up her cards.

  ‘I hardly call that speaking. I have more questions than answers.’

  ‘It is in your hands.’ The woman got to her feet and Avery stood, too, out of politeness, though he hardly felt polite. He felt irritated.

  The tent flap drew back, letting in daylight. He turned to see the barker gesturing them out ‘This way out, ma’am, my lord. Madame Rose has spoken.’

  When he turned back Madame Rose had gone.

  Damn it all. Of all the ideas he’d had, this one was likely one of the worst. He hadn’t thought about his father’s refusal to buy him a commission in the army in years.

  He escorted Carrie out of the tent and into a day that had turned from reasonably bright to overcast. ‘Where to now?’

  Carrie glanced up at the sky. ‘Do you think it is going to rain?’

  ‘It is hard to tell, but it seems likely. Shall I take you home?’

  ‘I certainly think we should head back in the direction of the carriage, don’t you? We can look at the rest of the stalls on the way.’

  They sauntered between the stalls. ‘Don’t take anything Madame Rose told you too seriously,’ he advised. ‘There is nothing of the occult in what they do. It is all trickery and clever guesses.’

  She glanced at him, her eyes troubled. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘No, truly. I know these—oh, will you look at that. Have you ever seen a sword swallower?’

  ‘A—? No, what is that?’

  Pleased to have found something to take her mind off the fortune teller, he grabbed he
r hand and hurried her through the gathering crowd around a man with several swords laid out on a bench at his side.

  Carrie’s eyes widened. ‘You are not going to tell me he is going to swallow those swords.’

  ‘He is. In a manner of speaking.’

  ‘I suppose you are going to tell me this is another trick.’

  ‘There is certainly a trick to it,’ he agreed.

  * * *

  Carrie stared in horror at the young man who stood in the middle of the circle of curious people. Beneath a black cape, he wore his shirt open at the throat and tucked into a wide belt studded with shiny metal. A bandana encircled his forehead, giving him a piratical look.

  Another man moved through the crowd, holding out a hat. ‘Famous throughout Europe for his daring and skill, the Spanish Count will astonish and delight. Never will you see his like again,’ the man shouted as he passed through the gathering.

  Avery tossed some coins in the hat. The man bowed and winked. ‘Thank you, sir.’ He continued on, shouting his words of encouragement until he must have decided he had received enough donations.

  Meanwhile, the performer stood, arms folded, looking imperiously down his nose is if all commercial transactions were beneath him. He reminded her of Westram.

  She giggled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He looks like my brother-in-law.’

  Avery narrowed his eyes. ‘That much of a tartar, is he?’

  Oh, she really should not give him that impression of her beleaguered brother-in-law. ‘He can be, when pressed.’

  The barker returned to the performer’s side and muttered something in his ear, then turned to the crowd. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Count of Barcelona.’

  The young man bowed and removed his cape with a flourish.

  The crowd shuffled closer. Avery put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close and serving as a barricade against the press of people. She felt protected. Cared for. It was such a lovely feeling.

  A feeling the fortune teller had warned her against, before she’d said her odd rhyme.

  Trusting your head will ensure your safety, I confess.

  Trusting your heart is taking a chance when.

  Only one path leads to true happiness.

  But oh, feeling protected was such a lovely sensation. It seemed to warm her all the way to her toes.

  The young man picked up one of the blades and waved it around. ‘I ’ave ’ere an ordinary sword.’ He held it out so members of the audience could touch it, feel its sharpness and strength.

  ‘It is all a trick,’ a man behind them shouted. ‘It folds up.’

  The Count held the blade towards him and shrugged. ‘You are welcome to make it fold up, if you can.’

  The man stepped into the middle of the circle and pushed and pulled at the blade and twisted and pressed at the hilt. When he had finished he gazed out at the surrounding people. ‘By Gad, it is real.’

  ‘A plant,’ Avery murmured in her ear.

  ‘You mean he is part of the show. That it is all a hum.’

  ‘Yes. But he is not lying. The blade is real enough.’

  The man disappeared back into the crowd and the sword swallower lifted the blade point first high above his tipped-back face.

  Carrie’s mouth dried. She pressed tighter against Avery’s side.

  The sword slowly disappeared into the young man’s mouth and down his throat.

  The crowd cheered and clapped.

  ‘One sword, ladies and gentlemen. Do I hear you call for two?’ the man who had collected the money shouted. He began passing his hat again and people added more coins.

  The young man slowly took down the second sword, but it seemed much more difficult and he had to pull it up and then push it down more than once. Finally, he turned in a circle with head back and two swords hilts projecting from his wide open mouth.

  There was another sword remaining on the chair.

  ‘Go on then,’ someone in the crowd shouted. ‘Let’s see you do the other one.’

  ‘No, no,’ his partner cried, looking anxious. ‘That is merely a spare. Three is far too dangerous. It has never been done.’

  The crowd began chanting ‘Three. Three. Three.’

  ‘Surely he won’t,’ Carrie said, appalled. ‘What if he cuts himself?’

  ‘If he cuts himself, he will die,’ Avery said drily.

  ‘He can’t do it,’ a man behind them said. Carrie turned to see a big belligerent-looking fellow glaring at Avery.

  ‘I wager he can,’ Avery answered, grinning.

  At his side, Carrie made a strange sound. A sob of protest.

  ‘’Ow much?’ the fellow said.

  ‘A shilling.’

  ‘I don’t want to watch this,’ Carrie said.

  Avery laughed at the horror on her face. ‘There is nothing to fear. He can do it.’

  She glanced over at the couple in the centre of the circle of people, where the barker was speaking to the Count with a worried expression. Whatever the Count said in response was not clear, but once more his helper passed round the hat. ‘You want to see a man risk his life, you needs to show me your coin, ladies and gents. The man has a wife and children to support.’

  Avery tossed another coin in the passing hat.

  Carrie began to turn away. Avery held her tighter. ‘You will never get through that crowd and I cannot run out on a bet. It will cause all kinds of trouble.’

  ‘Give me your shilling now and you can run wherever you wants,’ the big man said. ‘Can’t he, Jim?’ Jim proved to be an equally large fellow with a broken nose.

  Avery glanced around. Even if they wanted to leave, it would be impossible while everyone was crowding in so close. ‘Close your eyes and don’t look,’ he said to Carrie.

  When the barker held the third sword out to the Count, she buried her face against Avery’s coat. The crowd fell silent.

  He liked the feeling that she had turned to him for protection, even if he knew the so-called Count was perfectly safe. He gave her a comforting little squeeze.

  The man slowly slid the third sword home. A cheer went up.

  ‘I told you he could do it,’ Avery said to the man who had taken his bet.

  The man grumbled.

  Carrie made a sound of disgust. ‘That was horrible.’ She started to push her way through the crowd, while Avery accepted his winnings.

  He quickly caught her up. ‘Hey! What is the matter? I’ve seen that trick hundreds of times. The man is simply trying to earn a living.’

  ‘Are you telling me, no one ever dies?’

  He winced. ‘Once in a while maybe...but—’

  ‘Once in a while is once too often for me.’ She glanced up at the sky. ‘Dash it. It is raining.’

  He muttered something under his breath and then raised his voice. ‘It would have been helpful if Madame Rose could have forecast a shower. Then we would not have got wet.’

  The heavens opened and the rain began in earnest.

  * * *

  Sitting next to a damp and clearly unhappy lady was not exactly the way Avery had planned the afternoon to end. He still wasn’t exactly sure why she was fuming.

  ‘What did Madame Rose tell you?’ he asked.

  She turned away from the window and shivered. ‘It was all very vague.’

  Clearly, she didn’t wish to tell him. He didn’t like it that she was upset. He had expected her to see through all the nonsense at the fair.

  He put his arm around her. ‘Don’t let her ramblings upset you. It really is all a sham. I bet she asked you some pretty pointed questions before she got around to telling you anything.’

  ‘Not really questions. She said she saw that I was an only child and, when I agreed, she said my parents had wanted a son, which wa
s true.’

  ‘She is a clever one. The first is a guess and if she’d been wrong she would have seen it in your face and changed it. The second an assumption based on your reaction to the answer and her knowledge of human nature.’

  Carrie looked unconvinced. ‘She also said I had been married, but not to you.’

  ‘Well, everyone knows I am not married and she had to know who I was.’ He grimaced. ‘Her man only had to have seen us getting out of this carriage. It has our coat of arms on it. He might have thought I was my brother, but since neither of us is married, it makes no difference. They make a point of knowing who is who.’

  ‘Surely no one would have expected you to visit such a little place?’

  He offered her a comforting smile and a squeeze. ‘Please. It was intended to be a bit of fun. I really don’t want you upset.’

  ‘I am not upset about the fortune teller.’

  He pulled her close and she leaned against him with a sigh. ‘Well, I suppose it all ended well, but...’ She took a deep breath and he thought she was going to say something, something important, but she didn’t say a word. He thought it best to let the topic drop.

  ‘Will you accompany me to the theatre tomorrow?’ he asked to divert her mind to more pleasant topics.

  Mouth agape, she stared at him.

  Hurt by her astonishment, he shrugged. ‘I had the feeling that if you hadn’t been going home to Kent last week, you would have accepted my offer to escort you. So, I thought to ask you again. Mrs Siddons is playing in Measure for Measure.’

  She hesitated. Damn it. Was she still fussing about the sword swallower? If he had thought there was the least danger the man would be injured, he would not have encouraged her to watch. Didn’t she understand that? ‘I bought the tickets thinking you would like to go.’ Dammit, now he sounded sulky when he had intended to sound offhand. ‘It will be very good for business,’ he hastened to add. ‘It will give you a chance to wear one of those evening headdresses.’

  ‘May I think about it?’

  What was there to think about? He gritted his teeth. ‘By all means. Send a note round to my lodgings with your decision.’ He handed her his calling card with a bow.

  ‘Thank you.’