Truth and Beauty (His Majesty's Theatre Book 3)

by Christina Britton Conroy

  She agreed and he was about to make the purchase, when Robert returned, breathless and perspiring. “Please, Mr. O’Connell, allow me to paint Evan a copy, as a gift. You have been so kind, I can’t have you buying my painting.”

  “Nonsense, we all like it, and fortunately I can well afford it. You appear to be out of breath.”

  Robert shook his head. “Mr. Gildstein’s in a pickle. He needs three men to load and unload. Day-before-yesterday, two of his regular blokes took sick and sent replacements. Today, those replacements didn’t show, so I was helping load the last artist’s crates onto a cart.”

  “Just a moment.” Jeremy’s thoughts raced. “Two new chaps worked here yesterday and the day before.”

  “Yes, and they weren’t much good. Today they didn’t even…”

  “They didn’t show up at all?”

  “No, why?” He looked worried.

  “They saw Elly and Autumn Lady together?”

  “Yes, of course they did, why? Do you…?”

  “And today both the men and Elly are missing. What did they look like? Can you describe them?”

  Robert wiped sweat off his brow as he concentrated. “Well yes, one was a big fellow, very strong with dark hair. They called him, Mick. The other was a small, wiry chap called Jake. He was quite a bit older, with a thick thatch of yellow hair and a nasty expression. He wasn’t very fit and couldn’t lift anything heavy. One of his teeth was missing.”

  “Which one?” Jeremy’s heart pounded.

  “Umm,” Robert struggled to remember, “I believe it was this one.” He touched an upper tooth.

  Jeremy felt faint. Fighting for breath, he whispered, “Mick may be Mick Tanner, a butcher’s assistant and would-be actor. The other was probably an actor in a wig, named Tommy Quinn.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Town of Settle, Yorkshire, the same day

  Rex’s rope tore from Sam’s hand, jerking him awake. The dog raced from the pavilion, toward the house, barking madly.

  “REX! HEEL! REX!” Sam chased raggedly after the dog and found himself at the main entrance. A small group of people stood around a neat carriage. Sweat shone on the horses’ quivering backs, and mist puffed from their nostrils into the damp night air. Sam moved closer and froze. Elly was on the ground, clutching Rex. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her face was streaked with dirt and an ugly bruise spread across one side of her face. Her hair hung in ugly clumps and her clothes were torn. She saw Sam, gasped, and quickly looked away.

  A well-dressed elderly man yelled, “Someone get rid of that damn dog.” A servant reached for Rex, and the dog snapped savagely. The man pulled a revolver from his belt. “The dog’s mad. Move aside Elisa.”

  “No, father!” Elly clung to Rex and the dog growled, preparing to spring at Anthony Roundtree.

  “Rex, HEEL!” Rex ran to Sam and sat panting. Sam grabbed the rope around Rex’s neck and forced a laugh, “Sorry, sir. My dog’s going to entertain your guests tomorrow. He’s a great dog, just loves the ladies. Sorry to bother you, Miss.” Sam and Rex sped into the woods.

  As soon as they were out of sight, they stopped for breath. Rex looked up at Sam. His wet tongue hung out the side of his mouth. “You found her, Rex. Good dog!” He scratched Rex’s head. “That bastard Roundtree has a gun. This changes everything. How are we going to get her past a bullet?”

  He led Rex back behind the house. Now Elly’s windows were brightly lit. Standing below, in the damp woods, Sam helplessly watched the upstairs windows. Elly and her aunt passed to and fro. He wanted to charge up the stairs and save her, but her father had that gun.

  *

  Upstairs in Elly’s room, Lillian removed her niece’s ruined coat, pushed her into a chair, and looked at her face. Two maids came up the stairs. One carried a basin of steaming water, towels, and soap, the other a tray of food.

  Lillian directed them. “Sarah, put the food over there. Mary, bring the basin over here. Thank you girls. That will be all.” They smiled nervously at Elly, curtsied, and left. Lillian locked the door and put the key in her pocket. Elly watched the key, wondering how she could get it. Lillian looked at her niece. “Elisa, dear, you were expected hours ago. Sir John will be here soon and we must get you ready. What an ugly bruise. He won’t like that. I’ll cover it with powder.”

  “Why will he care? He’s been bruising me for years.”

  “Never on your face, dear. He never marked your face.”

  “Does it matter where?”

  “Hush child!”

  Elly forced herself to sit still as her aunt soaked a cloth and cleaned her hands and face. She cringed as the cloth rubbed painfully over the bruise.

  Lillian studied her face. “It’s not that bad, dear. I’ve had far worse.”

  Elly sighed, “Of course you have Aunt, but you’re forever falling down stairs.”

  The older woman spoke without emotion. “I’ve never fallen down stairs in my entire life.”

  “Oh please, Auntie! Every time I come home from school, you have new bruises. Let me have that food, I’m famished.” She pushed her aunt aside and pulled her chair to the desk. After two bites, her stomach cramped painfully. She pushed the plate away. Suddenly dizzy, she put her head in her hands.

  Lillian gently shook her. “Not now, dear. You’ll have time enough to rest on the train. Sit up. I need to dress your hair.”

  She was suddenly wide awake. “What train?”

  “You’re being married in an hour. Then, you and Sir John are taking the train to Hull, and sailing for Rotterdam at midnight.”

  “NO!” Elly was on her feet, racing toward the door. She yanked the knob. It held firm. Turning back, she stared around the room like a caged animal. There was no other way out, the windows were sealed. She stopped. The window glass rattled in the wind. How was that possible? Looking carefully, she could see small holes where the nails had been removed. Sam had been here. Her heart slowed.

  Lillian picked up a hair brush. “Come dear, we have to get you out of that soiled frock and into the wedding gown.”

  Elly clutched the door knob. “No! No wedding gown, Aunt. That’s nonsense.”

  “To you perhaps, but not to me. I have been dreaming of your wedding for years, and I am going to see you married in that gown.” Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s the only dream I have left.”

  “For God’s sake Aunt, you have dreams enough for the entire continent.” A wave of nausea took over and she slumped across the bed. Her head pounded and her body ached.

  Lillian wrung her hands, staring at the wedding gown. “If I’d had a dowry, I could have had a husband and a gown of my own.”

  Elly buried her face in the bedclothes. “Is that what marriage is to you? A gown? Take the gown.”

  Lillian watched the girl, then sighed. “You’re not yourself, dearest. We won’t talk further. Come, let’s get you ready.”

  “No please, Aunt Lillian.” Elly forced herself to sit up. If she could keep her aunt talking, she would forget what she was supposed to do. “I’m sorry, Auntie. Please tell me your dreams.” She held out her hand. “I want to hear them, really.” Her eyes burned and she swallowed down a sour taste in her mouth.

  Lillian sighed sadly, sat next to Elly, and took her hand. A faraway look came over her wrinkled face.

  Elly needed to get the key from Lillian’s pocket. She forced herself to speak lovingly. “I know you wanted to get married.”

  “Dear child, I shouldn’t bother you with my sorrows, but yes, of course I wanted to get married. When I was young, before Mama died, quite a few beaux came courting.” She smiled at the memory.

  The key was on her other side. Elly’s arm slid around her Aunt’s waist in a pretend embrace.

  “I was pretty then, like you.” She touched Elly’s cheek. “Even after Mama… while Papa was still alive, I thought it was possible. I’d taken over running the house, but it was nothing a good housekeeper couldn’t have done, and Papa was so handsome. I hope
d he’d marry again. Lots of ladies set their caps for him.” She smiled and suddenly seemed younger. “They used to call on the slimmest excuses. We children used to laugh so.”

  Elly’s arm could not reach Lillian’s pocket.

  Lillian took a deep breath. “After Papa’s accident, Charlie went to Germany to study engineering, and I was left alone with Tony. He’d always been a bully, even as a child. I kept hoping he’d grow out of it, but with no one to curb his temper, it grew worse. We lived pleasantly enough, until one day, a gentleman I’d been keeping company with, proposed marriage. Tony told him there was no dowry. None. The family fortune was gone. The man made his excuses and I never saw him again.”

  Elly had heard this story many times, but pretended to be surprised. “That’s horrid! How could he treat you like that?”

  Lillian laughed sadly, “Which one do you mean? The gentleman, or my brother? I was a grown woman by then, without a penny to call my own. I knew then that I’d never marry, and I’d be dependent on Tony forever. On top of it all, he said there was a chance we’d lose the estate. Then…” She smiled, clasping her hands. “A telegram arrived from Charlie. He’d married a German girl, Bertha, and she was expecting a child. Her father’s firm had bought shares in the Suez Canal and Charlie, his father in-law and mother in-law were traveling there. Bertha was coming to us for her confinement.”

  Elly’s insides felt hollow. It was all true. She was Charles Roundtree’s daughter.

  Lillian glowed from the happy memory. “My darling Charlie’s wife came to us. She was beautiful and very sweet. She spoke quite good English and we got on very well. Tony disliked her, but he dislikes all women.” Her brows creased. “Poor Bertha’s labor was very difficult…” Her face hardened. “Enough storytelling.” She stood up and walked toward the wedding dress.

  Suddenly weakening, Elly wanted to cry. “Aunt Lillian, please don’t make me do this.”

  “I haven’t the power to make anyone do anything.”

  Elly dove for her aunt’s pocket. “Then, give me the key. Please!”

  With lightning speed, Lillian took the key from her pocket and dropped it down her bodice. Elly lunged for it, then stopped, as good manners held her back.

  Lillian smiled. “I’ll give you the key, dearest.” Seeming to look past Elly, her glassy eyes focused on something far away. “But first, I’m going to see you as a bride.” With one hand Lillian picked up a hair brush. With the other, she grabbed Elly’s hair, dragging her backwards into a chair. The girl screamed with pain and stumbled as she slid onto the seat. Lillian removed the few remaining hairpins and pulled the brush through the tangled mass. She had to pull hard and Elly screamed again.

  Lillian ignored her cries and kept brushing. “We are women, Elisa. We have no power to do anything, ever. Men are cruel and we are here for their pleasure.” She brushed so hard, Elly nearly fell backwards.

  She yanked her head forward and stood to face her aunt. “That’s not true, really it’s not. I’ve been in London with marvellously strong women who do as they please, and brilliant men who love women, and know how to be gentle…”

  Lillian grabbed Elly’s shoulders. “Don’t ever let John Garingham hear you talk like that. He’ll beat you bloody, I swear he will.”

  Elly lurched back, her eyes were enormous.

  Lillian trembled. “He and Tony are two of a kind. They believe women are here for only one purpose. When their women don’t behave, they’re punished.” Suddenly, Lillian laughed a high pitched, childish giggle. Her face spread into a vapid grin and she tunelessly sang:

  “When a merry maiden marries,

  Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries….”

  She skipped to the dresser and returned with a dozen dead roses, tied with a crisp white-satin ribbon. She curtsied, presenting them to her niece. Horrified, Elly stared at the gruesome bouquet and her Aunt’s demented smile. A draught rattled the loose window panes and Elly looked again. Where was Sam?

  The door handle shook, but the lock held. Anthony Roundtree shouted, “Open this damn door, Lillian. Sir John and the vicar are here.”

  Lillian woke from her demented trance and looked at the dead flowers in her hand. Confused, she laid them aside. “Ten minutes – Please! The child just arrived. We’re still dressing.” Lillian leapt at Elly and practically ripped off her soiled frock. Elly stood frozen as Lillian bound her into an unbelievably stiff corset. She pushed Elly against the bedstead. “Exhale, now -- more!” Lillian pulled the laces tighter-and-tighter.

  Elly started to lose consciousness and Lillian passed a vial of smelling salts under her nose. Her head jerked up and tears flooded her eyes. Lillian screamed, “Don’t cry! For God’s sake, DON’T CRY!” Elly was so startled, the tears vanished. Lillian tossed a wide hooped crinoline over Elly’s head, and over that, the white gown, with yards of lace and heavy satin. Lillian pushed dozens of tiny buttons through fine loops of thread, closing the back, high neck, and long sleeves.

  Elly stepped into white satin slippers and wanted to die. “This dress is my coffin.” She closed her eyes as the veil was secured to her head.

  Lillian sighed. “We didn’t have time to dress your hair, dear. You’ll have to wear it long, like Juliet.”

  JULIET! Visions of everyone she had left in London flooded her mind - Jeremy O’Connell, Katherine Stewart, Lady Richfield, Robert, Rory, Lester… She felt a surge of power. NO!

  Lillian looked Elly up and down and nodded in approval. “You look as beautiful as I expected.” She took the key from her bodice and unlocked the door.

  Three men stood in the hall. Anthony Roundtree and Sir John Garingham stopped their conversation. Lillian shuddered and scurried into a corner, behind the dolls’ house.

  Father Folen hesitated, then shuffled past the other men, into the room. Elly ran to greet him. “It’s been so long, Father Folen.” She hugged him, whispering, “For the love of Mary, don’t do to me what you did to my mother.”

  The blood drained from his face as he called, “Mr. Roundtree, I cannot perform a wedding ceremony at this time, in this room. It is not sacred ground, or a permissible hour.”

  Roundtree smirked as he locked the door and put the key in his pocket. “My chapel is still at the side of the house, where it was eighteen years ago. It was close enough then, and it still is. Write down whatever time of day your Bishop will approve, and have done with it. No one will know the difference.”

  Father Folen glanced guiltily at Elly then stepped away. Elly was suddenly facing Anthony Roundtree and Sir John Garingham.

  Sir John offered his hand. She froze, losing her breath, trying desperately not to cry. His lips formed a smile but his eyes were cold. “You sent your father on quite a chase, my dear. He even had an investigator scouring Paris. That cost him a good deal of money.”

  She clenched her teeth. “It’s my money.”

  Sir John’s expression hardened. His hands became fists at his sides.

  Roundtree stormed toward her and she ran backwards, tripping over her train and falling to the floor. Her skirt flew up like a tent and she struggled to hold it down. He leaned over her. “What the bloody hell are you talking about? Your money? You filthy little bastard.” Her hooped petticoat was like a wild monster with a life of its own. Roundtree screamed, “You should be grateful you’ve had a roof over your head all these years. Instead you’ve caused nothing but trouble.”

  “I’m not a bastard.” Elly flattened the hoops. “My mother was married to Charles Roundtree.”

  Anthony Roundtree seized her arm and dragged her up off the floor. She cried out in pain, as he yelled into her face, “Your whore of a mother got herself with child before she was married. Her parents were more interested in money than their daughter, so they went off to Egypt and shipped the bitch here, to drop her brat. They all died and I was left with you.”

  “And my money.”

  He threw her against the wall. She crashed against the bookcase and reeled back, nearly
losing her balance.

  Roundtree turned to the priest. “Come along, Father. Let’s get my daughter married. They’ve got a train to catch.”

  Father Folen’s hands were shaking. He dropped his briefcase. Papers scattered. Roundtree’s quick eye found the marriage license. Seizing it, he hurried to the school desk near the window, pushed the tray of food aside, dipped the pen in the inkwell, and offered it to Sir John. “Your pleasure, sir.”

  The bridegroom smiled and signed the certificate.

  Roundtree called, “Elisa, sign this.”

  Overcome with nausea, unable to breathe, she leaned against the bookcase. Wind and rain rattled the loose window glass.

  “Sign this!” Roundtree grabbed her arm and dragged her to the desk. He forced the pen into her hand and twisted her wrist toward the paper. She screamed with pain.

  Sir John held up his hand, asking for silence. “A word in your ear, my dear.” Smiling with eyes-of-ice, he offered Elly his arm.

  Paralyzing terror overcame her. His large hand was like a vice around her thin arm, as he pulled her across the floor. Easing her into a corner, he turned his back to the rest of the room, put his hands on the wall on either side of her face, and leaned in. Her hoops were crushed between his legs and the wall behind.

  Their faces were so close she could see deep pores in his oily skin and smell his breath, sour from cigars and bad teeth. His raspy whisper made her shudder. His fake smile was more threatening than Roundtree’s bellowing.

  He spoke very slowly. “You are making this very hard on yourself, my dear. Surely you know that it is inevitable. You - will - be - my - wife.” Her legs buckled. He grabbed her around the waist, holding her tight against him. His mouth pressed her ear. “Now, my dear…” She felt his hot breath against her skin. “I want you to listen very carefully, because what I am going to say will affect the next several years of your life.”

  Her stomach lurched.

  Garingham’s quiet rasp continued. “Your life can be very pleasant. You can have all the luxuries money can buy: houses, cars, servants, clothes, horses. You can travel, go to the theatre, give parties, entertain…”