A frown wrinkled the girl’s forehead as she considered Jane’s simple white dress and elegant bonnet. ‘I think you are a long way from home, mam’zelle…Perhaps you would be better to return.’
Jane thought that she was probably right. She suddenly felt very odd, cast adrift in an entirely unfamiliar world. Yet the stubbornness that had brought her this far would not allow her to give up now.
‘I am Jane Verey,’ she said clearly. ‘I believe that you are acquainted with my brother Simon, Miss de Beaurain. I must speak with you.’
The girl’s blue eyes had narrowed. ‘You are his sister? Can he have sent you here? But no, it is impossible!’
She had started to turn away, but Jane caught her arm in desperation. ‘Please! I beg you to listen to me!’
A murmur ran through the growing crowd. Thérèse eyed them with exasperation, her expression becoming even more irritated as it returned to Jane’s flushed but determined face. ‘Very well, Miss Verey! You had better come with me before they tear the clothes from your back! This way…’
She ushered Jane through a narrow doorway and up a steep stair. The air was musty and dim out of the sunshine, and Jane blinked as her eyes accustomed themselves to the comparative darkness.
There was one room only at the top of the stairs, a long room resembling an attic, with bare boards and high windows. To the side of the stairs was a table with materials scattered across it-rich silks and taffetas in red and gold, a contrast to the bare austerity of the room with its single chair and wooden bed pushed up against the wall. The bed was occupied, but Jane did not like to stare with ill-bred curiosity at the recumbent figure.
‘My mother is too ill to be disturbed,’ Thérèse said abruptly. ‘I beg you to speak softly, Miss Verey, and do not wake her! Now, how may I help you?’
Her tone was not encouraging. Jane looked about her helplessly. She wondered suddenly whether she was making a dreadful mistake, then she remembered Alex’s words. The proud daughter of the Vicomte de Beaurain had already rejected one offer of help. She would need every ounce of persuasion she possessed to make Thérèse de Beaurain even listen to her.
Jane sat down on the workbench beside the dress that was clearly Thérèse’s latest commission. The room was spotlessly clean and tidy, the floor swept and the bedclothes neatly folded around the invalid on the bed. Jane dragged her gaze away and found Thérèse watching her with a mixture of pity and exasperation.
‘I do not know what can bring you here, mam’zelle,’ the French girl said impatiently. ‘I have already told your brother, the good Lord Verey, that I do not wish to encourage his interest. He has been here-sitting in the street, begging entry to the house! I cannot believe that he has sent you to plead his case! I repeat, I have no wish be his lordship’s mistress!’
The colour flamed in Jane’s face. Thérèse’s tone had been heavily ironic, but there was anger in her eyes-anger and a kind of hopelessness that Jane did not understand. For two pins she would have rushed from the house, but the memory of Simon’s strained and despairing face was before her eyes. She spoke firmly.
‘Mademoiselle de Beaurain, I beg you to hear me out. Firstly, my brother has no notion that I have sought you out today. I am here because I care about his happiness and I thought-erroneously, perhaps-that you might do so too. Secondly, I do not believe that Simon ever suggested that you should become his mistress! He is far too honourable a man to do such a thing!’ The sincerity in her voice rang out. ‘I thought that if I could see you…explain to you that he was desperately unhappy…you might relent and at least grant him an interview…He loves you!’ she finished desperately.
There was silence. Thérèse had sat, head bent, whilst Jane spoke, but now she looked up with a flash of her blue eyes. ‘Do you know who I am, Miss Verey?’
‘Yes! You are the daughter of the Vicomte de Beaurain, who fled France at the Revolution! You used to do sewing for Celestine and you were at the masquerade ball at Lady Aston’s, which was where my brother fell in love with you! You are related to General Sir John Huntington, who offended you by trying to offer you charity! I assure you that I am offering no such thing!’
This time there was reluctant humour in Thérèse’s voice. ‘I believe you, Miss Verey! You are remarkably well informed! And is your brother similarly aware of my history?’
‘No!’ Jane spoke more hotly than she had intended. ‘Simon knows nothing and cares even less! He is not concerned over your ancestry or current occupation! He would not care if you were a Duchess or a chambermaid! But I cannot convince you of that.’
A bout of coughing from the bed interrupted them and Thérèse jumped up, hurrying across to hold a beaker of water to her mother’s lips. They spoke briefly in French, too softly for Jane to hear, then the Vicomtesse turned on her side, smothering another paroxysm of coughs in her pillow. Thérèse straightened the covers about her mother’s form, then came back to Jane, a deep frown on her brow.
‘Forgive me, Miss Verey, but I must ask you to leave now. My mother has need of more medicines and I was on my way to fetch them when you arrived.’ Her gaze rested on the luxurious silk dress. ‘I have my work to do, as you see. You have done your best for your brother, but-’
‘Will you not see him at the very least?’
Thérèse was shaking her head. There was a mixture of frustration and anger visible on her face. ‘Miss Verey, you do not understand-’
There was a peremptory knocking, then the door burst open to admit a florid man whose yellowing smile Jane immediately distrusted. He was well dressed in a rather gaudy manner, with lace at the throat and wrists, and although he affected the manner and pose of a gentleman, there was something vaguely threatening in his appearance. Jane immediately sensed something defensive in Thérèse’s demeanour as the girl stood up, shielding her from his view.
The man executed a bow. ‘How d’ye do, my lady? I am come as promised to collect my debt!’
‘I told you that the money would not be available before Tuesday,’ Thérèse said calmly, but Jane thought she detected a hint of nervousness in her voice. She gestured towards the table. ‘I have the work to finish before I am paid and only then can I pay you!’
The gentleman did not seem convinced. He paced the boards, walking over to peer with ill-concealed curiosity at the figure on the bed.
‘I see your mother is not in plump currant,’ he observed unctuously. ‘How would it be if I sent out for the medicine for her-at a price?’
Thérèse cast Jane a swift look. She spoke stiffly. ‘I have told you before, sir, that the price is too high for me!’
The gentleman stepped neatly around Thérèse and stopped before Jane. His gooseberry-green eyes, bloodshot and slightly protuberant, appraised her with sharpened interest. With a sudden jump of the heart Jane recognised him. This, she was sure, was the man she had seen at Vauxhall advancing towards Alex with a knife in his hand. He had been with Thérèse when she and Simon had seen them in the gardens, but later he had been alone, creeping down the dark alleys with murder in his mind…She shrank back.
‘Barely saw you there, my dear!’ the man was saying cheerfully. ‘Thérèse, introduce me to you friend!’
‘My friend was just leaving, sir,’ Thérèse said, and this time there was no mistaking the sharp anxiety in her tone.
‘Not so swift, my sweet!’ There was an edge to the unctuous voice now. ‘So charming a companion! Pray make me known to her!’
Thérèse paused. ‘You must excuse us, Mr Samways. Your money will be ready on Tuesday as agreed. Now, by your leave-’
The gentleman stepped forward and grasped Jane’s sleeve. She came to her feet with a gasp of shock. There was no mistaking the cupidity and excitement on his face.
‘I do believe that you have the real thing here, Thérèse, my dear! Who is she-some society lady come to consult about a new dress? But no…’ he peered closely into Jane’s face and she could smell his stale breath ‘…she is too young! A golden c
hild! A pretty pigeon for the plucking!’
‘You mistake, Mr Samways,’ Thérèse spoke hurriedly. ‘My friend is nothing and no one! She cannot interest you-’
‘On the contrary!’ The gentleman’s eyes were avid on Jane’s face. ‘She interests me extremely! There must be an anxious family somewhere and I am determined to take care of her for them!’
‘You will not hurt her!’
There was taut anxiety in Thérèse’s voice. Jane, only part-understanding, grabbed her cloak and tried to step past the gentleman. He was too quick for her, grasping her arm.
‘A moment, my dear! You are too hasty!’ He bent his face close to hers. ‘Who are you, eh?’
‘I am no one, sir, as Miss de Beaurain has said,’ Jane said hurriedly, a catch in her voice. ‘I beg you to let me go now! I will be missed!’
‘Why, that’s just what I’m saying!’ Jane could not mistake the menace underlying his voice now. ‘There’ll be those who’ll pay handsomely to get you back, my dear! Now, be a good girl and tell me who they are! The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll be going home!’
Jane’s eyes met Thérèse’s in a look of horror. It seemed impossible that her errand had brought her into such sudden and unexpected peril. Despite what Alex had said to her about Spitalfields, it had never occurred to her that she might be in any physical danger. It was daylight and there were plenty of people about, and although she had felt uncomfortable in this unfamiliar environment, she had not for a moment thought that there might be those who saw her as a prize, a means of gaining some money…All her thoughts had been concentrated on the interview with Thérèse and the necessity of convincing her to meet Simon again, rather than the hazards that might lie along the way. Now, she realised that she had been naïve and foolish in the extreme.
‘I suppose you have brought your jackals with you!’ Thérèse was saying furiously. ‘How dare you use me to further your dirty little plans! I have told you I shall have no part in your filthy games!’
The gentleman gave her a look of admiration. ‘Spoken like a true noblewoman, my dear, a true aristocrat! I ain’t offended! Truth to tell, you had your chance to share in my good fortune! I’ve accepted that you ain’t interested, but you’ll pay your dues like the rest and keep your mouth shut!’
Thérèse said a rude and idiomatic phrase, the meaning of which Jane could only guess at. Samways was still holding her arm, and now he dragged her over to the wooden chair, thrusting her down on to it.
‘I’ve plenty of time, my dear, but have you? Wouldn’t you rather be restored to the bosom of your family?’
Tears stung Jane’s eyes. She had only herself to blame for getting into such a ridiculous and dangerous situation.
‘I do not understand you, sir!’ she said, scrubbing angrily at her eyes. ‘This is tantamount to kidnap!’
‘No, no, my dear!’ Samways swung a chair round and straddled it, resting his arms along the back. ‘I have no intention of kidnap or abduction! This is a business transaction-I will keep you here safe until your family can reclaim you!’
‘At a price!’ Jane said furiously.
Samways shrugged expansively. ‘It costs to keep a young lady safe in these parts! You ask the high-and-mighty French missie there!’ He nodded at Thérèse, who was standing irresolute, biting her lip. ‘She pays me to keep her from the brothels and the whorehouses, which-’ He thrust his face close to Jane’s ‘…is where you’ll be if your loved ones don’t come through with the cash!’
For a moment Jane stared at him, her eyes bright with fury. She was enraged to find herself in such a position of weakness, but there was a strong practical streak in her as well. Common sense suggested that it was in Samways’s interests to keep her unhurt whilst he extracted a ransom. She knew her family would pay. Therefore it was sensible to make the process as painless as possible-and face the consequences once she was free. For a moment Alex’s face swam before her eyes. She could picture his anger, the black brows drawn with fury, the blistering words that would be heaped on her head.
‘I am Miss Jane Verey of Portman Square,’ she said haughtily. ‘If you approach my brother, Lord Verey, he will see to it that you are…rewarded…for restoring me to him unharmed.’
Samways was out of his chair even before she had finished speaking, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of rich pickings. The sister of a lord! Even better than he had imagined!
‘Don’t go getting any ideas, now,’ he warned, pausing at the door. ‘Dolbottle and Henty are watching the house and will persuade you against leaving. If your brother is fond of you, Miss Verey, I reckon you should be home by nightfall!’
‘If we are not to go out, you had best fetch the medicine for Madame de Beaurain,’ Jane said crossly. ‘I do not see why she should suffer unnecessarily!’
Fortunately, Samways seemed much amused by this. ‘Medicine for the Frenchies! Yes, milady!’
There was a silence after he had gone out. Madame de Beaurain was asleep and snoring softly. Thérèse moved across to the window and looked out into the street.
‘He spoke the truth. His men are everywhere.’ Her blue gaze lingered thoughtfully on Jane. ‘That was very wise, Miss Verey. You have more sense than most of your contemporaries, who would be having the vapours by now!’
‘Thank you,’ Jane said coolly. ‘Please call me Jane.’
There was a hint of amusement in Thérèse’s gaze. ‘And you must call me Thérèse. I am sorry that a compassionate errand has put you in such an awkward position, Jane.’
Jane’s hazel eyes were bright as they rested on Thérèse’s face. ‘What did that unpleasant man mean when he said that you paid him to keep you out of the brothels?’
A hint of colour stole into Thérèse’s cheeks. ‘Just that,’ she said shortly. ‘Mr Samways is a business man, a man of many and varied interests! One of them is the ownership of a number of whorehouses. I did not care to be amongst his women, Jane, though he offered me the privilege of being his own mistress! So instead I pay him so that I need not be a whore! A neat reversal, n’est ce pas?’
Jane was momentarily silenced. ‘But what…could he…?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Thérèse said drily, ‘he could! He runs this neighbourhood, Jane, and everyone must contribute in some way!’
She sat down and stoically started to stitch the hem of the taffeta dress. Jane stared at her. After a moment Thérèse looked up and gave her a faint smile.
‘Does my sang-froid offend you, dear Jane? But you see, it is the way of the world! It is simply that you are usually protected from its harsh realities! Have no fear, Samways will quickly find your family, they will pay handsomely for you and you will be on your way home! A storm in a tea cup!’
‘I am not offended,’ Jane said, not entirely truthfully. ‘If you will pass me the underskirt, Thérèse, I shall occupy myself in helping you. I am not so neat a seamstress as you, but if you give me the bits that do not show…’
There was reluctant admiration in Thérèse’s eyes as she pushed the skirt across to Jane.
For a while they sewed in silence, but after a little, Jane said, ‘Perhaps you could tell me a little of yourself, Thérèse, to pass the time. I could chatter but I would prefer to hear about you, if you do not mind…’
Thérèse laughed. ‘Very well, Jane. Would you like the tale of my life? It starts in gilded luxury in Blois, where I was the pampered only child of the Vicomte and Vicomtesse de Beaurain. I had wardrobes of pretty clothes and servants at my beck and call. I remember nothing of those days for when I was still a baby my father was guillotined and we were forced to flee abroad. We went by night, running away, hiding like thieves…We came to England, where my mother worked for years as a teacher of French and later took in sewing when her health began to fail.’ She cast a swift, affectionate look across at the humped figure in the bed. ‘I did not go to school-my mother taught me until I was old enough to work, telling me all the time that I should try to better my position
and remember whose daughter I was. What I remember is nothing of richness and luxury and everything of poverty and struggle.’ Despite the words her face was serene, untroubled.
‘Then I became French governess to a family in Kent…’ Thérèse shrugged a little. ‘It is the old story. I was young and the master of the house was old and importunate and the mistress unable to believe that he was resistible…I was turned off without a reference and for my next governess role I was obliged to take a job further down the social scale with a Cit who wished his daughters to become little ladies…’ Another shrug. ‘I have no time for rank and fortune-how could I, given my own circumstances? What value has rank been to me, the penniless daughter of a French nobleman? But these people were not even pleasant-petty, small-minded…In the end they dismissed me because they said they found my manner too high and mighty, but really they were uncomfortable to have a servant higher born than they. So I came back to London and took to sewing, like my mother.’ She bit her thread with sudden violence. ‘My mother’s health was deteriorating. It was that that prompted me to contact the Huntingtons and ask for help. Nothing else would have induced me to beg, for I am too proud.’ She met Jane’s eyes and smiled a little. ‘I know it is my besetting sin! Anyway, we received a grudging invitation to visit. Have you met the family, Jane? They are as proud as we, stiff and unbending, and they were not warm to their French cousins. Well, it would never have worked…I cannot be a poor relation-I would rather earn an honest wage. And so there was talk of ingratitude and pride, and we came back and took a room here. My mother became too ill to work and her medicine costs much, but we manage.’
‘And then, a few weeks ago, you went to Lady Aston’s masquerade,’ Jane said softly. Thérèse put down her sewing slowly. There was suddenly a distant look in her eyes. ‘Yes. Oh, Jane, it was a beautiful dress, that one. I have worked for years with silks and velvets, and never felt tempted, but that dress…The old Duchess-’ she gave a naughty smile ‘-I fear she could not do it justice. As soon as I saw it coming together under my hands I had to have it! I tried it on…and then I thought, why not? No one would know…so I ran up a domino as well and went to the masquerade. I had heard the Duchess mention it. And-’ she shrugged ‘-the rest you know.’
Miss Verey’s Proposal Page 21