‘What is this fellow’s name?’
Emily had to produce a false laugh then, one that sounded unconvincing to her ears. ‘That is of no account, Mrs Teale. He would not be known to someone of your eminence and virtue.’
The flattery was essential; if this woman had the name, she might seek him out. When she used the word ‘sinner’ it was in a search for souls her husband might save. But she also had to be reassured; in her world women, not even widows, received men in their private quarters without another of their sex in attendance.
‘When I say alone, I will ensure that the wife of the owner of this pensione is present.’ She moved to the bureau on which lay her writing materials. ‘Now forgive me, I must reply and ask him to call at a later time.’
‘Would I be permitted access to the caddy while you compose?’
‘Mrs Teale, how could I refuse?’
To say that the prospect of meeting Cornelius Gherson came to dominate her thinking for the next hour was an understatement, not least what he might be after. She would have sent back a refusal had she been alone, but that was impossible in the company of a group of people with too much time on their hands and a strong desire to indulge in gossip.
That none of them knew about John Pearce was a blessing; they could not or they would never have called upon her once, never mind several times. How that had remained hidden she did not know and could only assume a limited form of engagement between her present guests, their husbands, and the constant stream of visiting naval officers.
On reflection, that was absurd; they mixed all the time and there had to be suspicion if not knowledge of her adultery, and that drove her to the only conclusion that made sense: they kept such information to themselves to protect the reputation of one of their own and that was not her lover. The failure of a post captain, close to the top of the list and soon to be an admiral, to hang onto his wife, was no concern of civilians and death did little to alter that.
The rest of the time spent with the ladies became a sore trial, aware as she was of the glances being thrown at her by Mrs Teale when the old battleaxe thought she was not looking. The lady was suspicious by nature, God-fearing in a way that bordered on hypocrisy and so determined to hold on to her position that it would mortify her if anyone came into possession of idle chatter before her. With what Gherson knew she would be closer to heaven than sacrilege allowed, while Emily Barclay would be ostracised.
‘You must come to me, my dear, if the journey does not tire you.’ A meaningful glance was thrown at the hidden bulge in Emily’s belly. ‘Do not do so if it risks the welfare of the child – and yours, of course. I cannot tell you how much my dear husband the vicar is looking forward to performing a proper Christian baptism of an English child, a rare event in his parish.’
That the Catholics have them by the bucketload was a sentiment that had to be suppressed; when Letitia Teale said Christian, she meant Anglican.
‘And you must tell me how you dealt with the clerk fellow.’ The fat, ruddy cheeks were swung to encompass the others. ‘I’m sure I am not the only one dying to know. Now, I think it must be time we left you to your rest.’
Murmurs of agreement had the rest gathering what possessions they had brought with them, parasols and the like, which left Emily wondering how to play Letitia Teale, now drinking the last of her tea.
‘Dear me,’ she spouted, in a sudden flash of inspiration, ‘I have a small gift for you, Mrs Teale.’
‘A gift?’
That was aimed at Emily’s back; she was at the sideboard fetching out a brown paper packet, with a handwritten designation telling all that it had been packed by the emporium of Fortnum and Mason in St James’s Market.
‘One of my late husband’s colleagues brought me two packets of tea to comfort me for my loss.’ Mrs Teale’s eyes opened at such generosity, too much so to spot what was a blatant lie. ‘I will never finish them both, so I wondered if you would accept the spare one. It would be a terrible pity if time rendered it less tasteful.’
The expression that engendered was composed of a whole gamut of emotions: greed for the tea, certainly, but also wonder at the notion of someone parting with such a quantity of such a scarce commodity. Then there was a moment when she thought to refuse, the reasons obvious, for this was an indication of the actuality of her status and lack of prosperity. Luckily, the first sentiment triumphed but would it have the effect for which Emily hoped and act to deflect her curiosity?
‘Your kindness overwhelms me.’
‘Stuff and nonsense, Mrs Teale. Where would we all be without your guiding hand?’
The response was a quite girlish refusal to accept that such a thing came close to being a fact.
It was the wife of the proprietor who showed Cornelius Gherson into the sitting room, the first obvious thing to register was the state of his face and the marks of what must have been quite a serious beating. It was telling to Emily that she had no feeling at all of sympathy, as she would have had with almost any other creature on earth.
‘La prego di rimanere, Signora.’
That got not more than a knowing look, as Emily waved to ask the woman to sit down, which she did, a look of deep suspicion aimed at this much-bruised visitor.
‘I need to see you alone.’
‘That will never happen, Gherson, but you may speak freely, for the lady has no English.’
‘Your condition suits you, madam. You were never short on comeliness, but being with child has given you an extra bloom.’
‘I have no notion of why you have chosen to call on me, Gherson, but I would be obliged if your visit was as brief as possible. I do not find your company palatable.’
‘The tongue has not altered.’
‘Your reason?’
‘I wondered if you found in your husband’s papers his last will and testament.’
‘How could I when he did not write one?’
That got a smile, though one that looked odd with the swellings on the lip. ‘And if I said to you I wrote it, he signed it, what then? It should be in the chest with the remainder of his correspondence, much of it relating to you and your shortcomings as a spouse.’
‘Those I have declined to read.’
‘So you are wise enough to care for your blushes.’
‘You appear to be unwise enough to look to your well-being, judging by your condition.’
‘The will,’ Gherson spat.
‘Does not exist, which you well know.’
‘And if I say it does, then what?’
‘I will ask you to leave, and I can assure you,’ Emily said, with a gesture to the signora, ‘this lady’s husband has the means to find men who will remove you and no doubt add to your discomfort in the process.’
‘Captain Barclay’s prize agents are Ommaney and Druce.’
‘I fail to see the point of you telling me something of which I am fully aware.’
‘They are men of business, very successful and people who trusted me to handle your husband’s affairs.’
‘Then that seems to me grounds to dismiss them from a hand in mine. Anyone who trusts you must be a fool.’
‘Including your husband?’
‘Especially my husband, who only, I suspect, retained your services because you could be relied upon not to be fussy about breaking the law. Given he was cut from the same mould, you made a charming pair.’
Gherson made to sit down, which got him a sharp rejoinder that he was not welcome to do so, his response a shrug. ‘I fear it will be my duty to write to Ommaney and Druce and tell them I have knowledge of the existence of a will, and one that leaves you with nothing. The estate of Captain Barclay was specifically attested to go to his sisters.’
‘Liar.’
‘They, being diligent, will no doubt refuse to allow you access to anything until my contention is proven or seen to be false. They would be remiss to do otherwise; indeed, they would be required to instruct lawyers with a brief look into the matter. That co
uld take up a great deal of time, while the expenses incurred, as well as yours to defend it, would be much diminished by fees.’
‘What do you want, Gherson?’
‘You are so sure there is something?’
‘I am not a fool. I don’t trust you but I know you and, I will also add, merely having to talk to you makes me feel sick.’
That got a glance from Gherson towards the signora. ‘Ten minutes alone and I would make you eat those words.’
‘Then should it ever occur, and it will not if I have my way, I will have in my hand a knife, and I will use it.’
‘There is a way to deflect this.’ Emily arched her eyebrows in enquiry. ‘The loss of my position has rendered my situation unpleasant. It is my desire to return to England, and I lack the means to do so.’
‘And you wish me to provide them?’
‘As a payment for my services to your husband.’
Emily wanted to scream and tell him to get out, but at the forefront of her mind was an image of Mrs Teale. As long as this slug was in Leghorn there existed a possibility they would meet, and for her and her carefully crafted carapace of respectability that would be disastrous. Gherson knew everything and would take great pleasure in disclosure.
She was determined to save the name of her child as much as her own; at all costs he must be born and raised without the taint of bastardy, while she had the means in her late husband’s chest to make this problem disappear. The notion of compliance to what was nothing but blackmail rendered it no less unpleasant as a prospect.
‘The ladies I saw departing the pensione were, I assume, acquaintances of yours?’
‘I will advance you fifty guineas, Gherson, on certain conditions. The first is that I book and pay for the carriage fare to Vienna, which will ensure you depart Livorno. Then, that you write and sign a document supporting the lack of a will, which will earn you the balance. The third, once those are carried out to my satisfaction, is that I never set eyes on you again.’
She should have taken more cognisance of the look on the man’s face and added that to her knowledge of his character. He was a good actor and did humility and gratitude well. But the fact that he fooled her was more to do with her needs than his.
For himself, Gherson was thinking, if you pay once, you will pay again and surely you too will return to England and a comfortable life. Suddenly his prospects, even in the long term, did not look so bleak.
CHAPTER TWELVE
John Pearce was not a patient man, this he knew and accepted as one of his less attractive traits. But the pace of progression at the Naval Commissariat would have tested that quality in a saint. He could not help but wonder if there was a personal element in the way he was being treated, given the time it was taking to say if HMS Flirt’s requirements could be met; what was available at all, added to when they could be on the quayside ready to be taken aboard, seemed destined to stretch to infinity.
He had crossed swords with the man in charge of supplying stores once before, an irascible Scottish captain by the name of Urquhart. He had more or less named him a disgrace to the service over a duel he had fought and what that individual saw as the deplorable manner of his victory. That took no account of the question of his merely being a proper naval officer in the first place.
He was desperate to use some of his time ashore with Emily Barclay, aware the need for discretion would cut into what was available. He could not just shirk his shipboard duties and stay ashore as long as he wished; to do so would expose him to rebuke, but there could be no barging into her presence and surprising her. His visit had, for appearances, to be a formal one, with his name sent in and her agreeing to receive him. Given the way she had sought to mix socially, it might be public, which made what was hard – seeking to persuade her of her folly – near to impossible.
With time to kill, he wondered at Digby sending him ashore in the first place. If he had given way in the face of the threat made to depose him, that had done little to ease their strained relationship. His captain knew Emily was in Leghorn and he could not suppose Pearce would pass up an opportunity to contact her, yet he seemed to be facilitating that which he abhorred.
The clock on the office wall told him time was ticking away so he sent a message to Urquhart by way of one of his minions, asking that he attend to him personally. That came back as a distinct negative, this delivered by a one-legged ex-sailor who, when Pearce indicated he had other business to attend to and that he would call back later, produced a slow shake of his head.
‘Not wise, your honour. What’s to say you won’t be left short if another ship’s officer comes in a’begging. It be dog eat dog round here, an’ no error.’
‘You don’t mean first come first served?’
The head canted to one side and the eyes eschewed contact. ‘If I were to say that Captain Urquhart has his favourites—’
‘Of which I am unlikely to be one,’ Pearce interrupted.
That got a crooked grin, exposing few teeth. ‘Which is my way of saying, your honour, best keep an eye out for another blue coat heading this way lest you be left sucking the hind tit.’
It was pointless to reflect that what was happening was unfair. His time ashore had to be limited and that which was available was disappearing at a rate of knots.
‘Well, I have other business to attend to and I must take the risk.’
He made his way by the quayside to ask Lambert, in charge of the men who had rowed him ashore, to take his place at the commissariat, with added directions as to where he would be if and when he was needed. That got a sly knowing look from a one-time member of the crew of HMS Larcher, swiftly suppressed. There was little doubt in his mind as to what Pearce was about.
On the way and walking at pace he sought to rehearse the words he wished to use, his aim to get Emily out of Leghorn. If a voyage to England at this time of year was felt to be too hazardous, one to Naples was less so. A vessel hugging the coast would pass any number of safe havens into which they could retire to avoid inclement weather. In Naples she would come back onto the orbit of Lady Hamilton, who might well, as she had in the past, accommodate Emily.
She would certainly help with the necessary medical requirements to ensure, as far as it was possible, a safe delivery. Pearce also hoped that the ambassador’s wife, given her own chequered past and what she had done to aid them already, would help him to persuade his paramour that his view should prevail.
He tried, out of courtesy, to ask for Emily in his limited Italian, which earned him a blank look from the proprietor, who Pearce reckoned was being obtuse. His rising temper had to be contained, with the request to see the Signora Barclay repeated at the pace of a dim-witted child. He then had to wait again for what seemed an age to be shown up the stairs by one of the man’s daughters, which meant, given the totality of the morning, he was in a far from benign mood on entry to her apartments.
‘Lieutenant Pearce, how good of you to call.’
That was for show, with Emily nodding to the girl that it was safe to shut the door and depart. That she did not fly into his arms on that happening further affected his already fractured mood, so when he spoke it was with none of the supplication and gentility he had intended to employ when he set off from HMS Flirt.
‘Should I be grateful merely to be received?’
‘Would it not be best to form habits that will later be required?’
‘Not for me, Emily.’
‘John, I—’
There was only a few paces between them, covered quickly enough to shut off any more words and if she resisted his intention to kiss her, it was with feeble determination. This held until he extended the arms with which he had embraced her, to look directly into her lovely grey-green eyes.
‘That is the greeting I expected from you, Emily, I did not think I would be required to force it myself.’
She detached herself and turned away, as if it was all too embarrassing. ‘What of my receiving you alone in my rooms? D
o you not care what will be said if that becomes common knowledge?’
‘You are well aware I don’t give a damn.’
He observed the shrinking of the shoulders; Emily had always deplored his cavalier use of language. ‘I should have asked the girl who showed you up here to stay.’
‘For the sake of your reputation.’
‘What else? I have made friends here in Leghorn, ladies who would be mortified at my receiving you in this manner.’
‘And you care for their opinion?’
‘I have made it my business to, as an upright widow.’
His response emerged as a near shout. ‘We cannot go on like this. At least, I cannot. It is nought but hypocrisy.’
‘You know my reasons.’
‘And I don’t accept them, Emily. I doubt there’s a soul in the fleet who does not harbour some inkling of our association. You prate on—’
That spun her back to look at him, her eyes flashing with indignation, the word ‘prate’ repeated with venom.
‘Yes, Emily,’ Pearce insisted, his tone more discreet, though the level of stress was undiminished. ‘You go on about respectability as though it is some kind of holy grail, when it is nought but a method of social conformity that suits the charlatan. How long do you think it will be before the rumours circulating here are repeated in your hometown?’
‘Rumours are one thing, established fact another. It is that which I seek to prevent.’
‘So you would keep me, the father of your child, at arm’s length in order to protect the reputation of your husband.’
‘That is not the purpose and you know it,’ she snapped.
‘It is concomitant. Ralph Barclay will suffer no loss of standing for being a near-criminal martinet who maltreated you, and my child will bear his name.’
‘Only until the proprieties allow us to be together.’
‘And in the meantime I am supposed to exist on the crumbs from the great man’s table and be grateful for my good fortune, is that it?’
‘John,’ she pleaded, ‘my Christian soul does not allow me to thank providence for that which it has brought us.’
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