by Sophia James
He felt Charlotte stiffen at his question and waited for an answer.
‘I think it must be, sir. Mr Carvall has taken other girls from there, too, and I think Frank Wilkes knows about it because he said nothing, but I saw money pass through his hands.’
‘So Wilkes is not only a coward, but a cheat as well.’ Jasper snarled this.
Lottie sat forward, a heavy frown across her brow. ‘My goodness, and we have been sending him young girls for work there for all of a year now.’
‘How many?’
‘Five, perhaps. Did you see any of the others, Harriet, when you were with Carvall?’
‘No one, Miss Fairclough. Just me. I have seen and done things that make me crawl with the shame of it and now I do not know how I can ever fit back in.’
‘You do it one breath at a time, one step at a time.’ Jasper answered this because he had done exactly the same and he wanted to give the girl strength. Charlotte looked at him as if he had grown angel wings and a halo, her smile wide. ‘I know because that is how I survived, too.’
* * *
Three hours later, having had something to eat and drink, Lottie sat with Jasper in the small family dining room at the back of the Foundation, a fire burning in the grate. Harriet had been dispatched to a bedroom to sleep, Claire watching over her to make certain she was not distressed and just for this moment the world was a fine one. Harriet had been restored to her rightful place and Jasper looked far less in agony than he had appeared before. The dog lay across his boots, fully stretched into the heat, his injured leg bound.
‘He looks as though he is attached to you.’ She pointed to the animal and its dark eyes opened.
‘Mongrels are clever and they know a good lark to hold on to when they see one.’
‘So you will keep him?’
‘Isn’t there some Chinese saying that states if someone saves your life you owe them a life? I imagine it applies to dogs as well.’
She laughed at that and thought that this was what happiness was, this moment, right here in conversation with Jasper.
‘You should have stayed in the carriage, Charlotte, safely tucked away from the violence. If you’d been hurt...’
‘But I wasn’t.’
‘Which was only by a stroke of luck.’ He wiped back a lock of his hair with a hand that had every knuckle grazed. ‘No one has ever put themselves at such risk for me before. If you hadn’t come...’
‘You did the same for me in Old Pye Street, Jasper.’
He looked up as she said his Christian name.
‘I grant you that it was a clever ruse. I think the patrons of the Marquis of Granby tavern had no true direction in which to act. You softened the violence with a domestic spat and they were glad to see the back of us and sorry for us as well.’
‘It’s a trick I learned here at the Foundation. When you dampen down the stakes people tend to look the other way and are thankful that it is not them living in such a conundrum.’
‘It must be a hard life, always helping those in trouble?’
She nodded. ‘Sometimes it is, but it’s also a good one.’
He looked exhausted tonight, his face sporting new bumps and bruises and his right arm held close to his body where it had been wrenched at the elbow.
‘Thank you for getting Harriet out.’
He smiled, but she could tell that he wanted to ask her something. With patience she waited until he finally spoke.
‘Would you come and have dinner with me tomorrow night at my town house? I can bring you back here afterwards.’
‘It would be just us?’ She knew this could not be something a single woman should do.
‘Only if you wanted it to be.’
‘I do.’
He nodded, for the first time a sort of uncertainty evident. ‘I thought you might refuse.’
‘Why?’
‘Because alone and away from the Foundation I would hope I can kiss you again and I think you would know that.’
Warmth suffused the room and, as though aware of the undercurrents, the dog looked up and whined.
‘Hero. Cease.’
‘You will call him that? Hero.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘It suits him.’
This building held all the remnants of her family, of Silas, of her parents and sister, of helping others, of business and compassion. She could well understand why Jasper wanted her to be at his town house, for it was a quieter space where there would be no interruptions, though she also thought of Meghan’s visit the other day and frowned.
What would it mean to go there alone? Each time he had kissed her thus far they had only ever stopped because of intrusions. What if there were none? She felt her cheeks warming and looked away, though she was sure Jasper had seen what she had tried to hide from him.
Anticipation. Eagerness.
She would write another letter to Mama tonight and tell her of the rescue of Harriet. She would couch the note in terms that would not bring Lilian running back to London for she hoped to buy some time here to see where this dinner tomorrow might lead them.
‘I think we also need to investigate what is happening at the laundry, Charlotte. Did Rosa O’Brian ever say she’d been approached?’
So he was back to business now, a man who wanted answers about the day’s happenings. ‘No, but perhaps she wouldn’t be. Approached, I mean, with her face.’
‘She is still beautiful and there is no accounting for the tastes of those who seek something different.’
‘You think Carvall is picking off the newcomers, then? Taking them before they settle in and offering them so much more.’
‘Harriet said as much. An offer too good to be refused is usually too good to be believed as well.’
‘But a girl of nineteen may not realise that?’
‘Until it is too late.’
Lottie enjoyed talking to Jasper like this, every possibility mooted and a sort of shared understanding in the issues. She felt reassured at the way he joined clues together and came out with an explanation of a problem. Like her parents used to. It was heartening.
She wished the night could have gone on for ever, but it was late and when he stood the dog did, too.
‘I shall send a carriage around at five in the afternoon tomorrow for you. I hope you sleep well.’
He did not step forward in any way and such restraint was touching. She had the sense that he wanted to wait till tomorrow when the fright of this night was further away and things had settled before he asked her for anything more. One of the Fairclough Foundation servants came in to show him out, the dog following him, and when he had gone it felt as if all the air and light had left the room.
Crossing to the window, she watched him step into his carriage, a slight flare of light showing his face as the conveyance moved forward and then he was lost in the blackness.
Chapter Eleven
All day she had been nervous. She had spent the morning with Harriet in a house in Clapham, for she knew there was a job as a scullery maid on offer there. Harriet was given the position and, thankfully, it was one where she could start immediately.
‘I need to get back to normal, Lottie, and this will help me do that. I have always enjoyed being in a kitchen, so this is just perfect. Besides, it’s a good distance from the Rookery. I doubt anyone will know me here so it will be a new start and I will take it one breath at a time just as Mr King said it and survive.’
‘But you will come and see me at the Foundation?’
‘Of course I will and I cannot thank you both enough for what you have done for me. I was foolish, I know it, terribly foolish, but I shall never be so again.’
* * *
When Lottie reached home again just after twelve she pampered herself, having a bath in the afternoon, something she had never
done before, and shampooing her hair with a special concoction of lavender and lemon.
Claire, her maid, had stopped haranguing her. She was now simply delighted by Mr King and extolled all his virtues.
‘Your papa would have liked him, Miss Lottie. He is man of his word and the help he gave to Harriet in her hour of need was beyond wonderful. I am glad he is taking you to dinner at his sister’s house tonight because Mrs Gibson seems a very nice woman and kind with it.’
‘I shall make sure to tell him of your good opinion, Claire.’
She hated to lie, but felt in the circumstances it would be easier.
As Claire held out a towel the clock in the corner rang out the hour of two.
‘Goodness, is that the time already? I need to dry my hair and find something to wear. I was thinking of my navy gown, the one with the lace that Amelia gave me last year.’
It had the lowest bodice of all her gowns and Lottie thought she might as well use the assets she had. Such a thought was daring and bold, but after yesterday she felt different, more certain of her direction and less inclined to sit back and wait until life came to her.
In all her twenty-two years it had not and neither had it done so for Amelia. The men she’d met through the Fairclough Foundation were good upstanding gentlemen who had often expressed interest of varying degrees, but none of them had made her heart beat faster or her breath come in gulps.
As Jasper did.
Part of her wished Millie was here to talk with and part of her was glad she was at the Malverlys’. She would have liked to ask about why her sister’s relationship with Jasper had ended and what she had thought of him. She knew her brother had always liked him so that was one member of the family who would be in her corner.
A mirror to one side of the room caught her reflection and she stiffened. She had never been a thin girl, her curves as much a part of her as her wild and curling hair. For the first time ever she wondered if a man would find her attractive without her clothes on. She clenched her teeth together. My goodness, could she really be thinking of doing this, of allowing Jasper to know her truly? Another thought struck her, though, straight after that one. A kiss might be all he wanted. After all, he was a man born and raised into a family of good name and fortune.
All of this thinking was just confusing her. Should she even go to his town house alone and put herself into this position? She had known him for only a matter of days. Hardly any time at all. And yet...
She’d always been so good at taking her chances and here she was second-guessing herself and overthinking.
Tonight would be what it would be.
This thought made her happier and stronger and with resolve she walked across to her wardrobe and took out the navy gown.
She loved him. She did. She loved Jasper with every fibre of her body and with her whole heart and, if nothing else came from this save a kiss, she would always be grateful for the knowledge that he could engender such feelings in her and that she had reached out for her own infinite possibilities in life.
She was certain that Nanny Beth would be up there in Heaven cheering her on.
* * *
Charlotte Fairclough was here. His carriage had just arrived, the fire was warming the front salon and he had chilled wine on the sideboard.
His leg was quiet tonight.
Jasper smiled at the description, but he had always thought of the pain in a gradient of noise, quiet to howling. After the fight yesterday he had imagined he might awake to a far worse ache and had been pleasantly surprised to know silence.
He hoped she had not brought her maid or a servant to oversee her visit under the guise of a chaperon. His sister had asked him this morning about Charlotte Fairclough and her movements and he had been as evasive as he could, for the last thing he wanted was for Meghan to call in uninvited again.
Lord. He had seldom considered things like this before, always being so certain of his movements. Charlotte Fairclough’s bravery last night had sent him spinning, her reckless disregard for her own safety lending a layer of disbelief and incredulity. He could never have imagined any woman of his acquaintance being so bold. Verity had absconded at the first sign of trouble, leaving him in a hole so deep he still wondered exactly how he had managed to extricate himself.
The front door opened and he heard the softness of her voice asking his man a question. About a painting, he thought, and sought to imagine which one she had had an interest in.
His mother, perhaps. Her other-worldly beauty always intrigued anyone new to her portrait. The dog cocked his head and listened, tail wagging.
Then the door opened and she was there.
‘Thank you for coming.’
His words sounded formal, but at that particular moment it was the best he could come up with. She looked young, absurdly young and scared, a beautiful girl wrapped in a navy dress that had seen better days, her hair once again fraying at its tethers.
‘Would you like a drink?’
Her eyes shifted across to the wine and she nodded. ‘Just a small glass, please.’
Perhaps because she didn’t want any loss of control? He did as she asked and deposited a half-filled glass in her hand.
‘It is Chateau Lafite from the vineyards outside the village of Pauillac in the Medoc region of France. The King’s Wine, it is called by many, and the vintage of 1798 was one of their very finest.’ He was talking now to fill in the gap, even though he knew she’d hardly be interested in all the peculiarities of the wine.
She drank it quickly and then placed the glass down on the table beside her without giving any opinion. He did not offer more.
‘How is Miss White this morning?’
‘I took her to meet her new employer and the woman was kind. I think it will be a perfect place for her.’
‘To forget?’
‘Precisely.’
‘And survive?’
Funny, this shortened way of speaking between them. He’d felt it before with her.
‘It is lucky your mother has such capable hands to leave the running of the Fairclough Foundation in.’
At that she looked up.
‘It is lonely sometimes.’ This was said in a tone that one might use in church. ‘Good works do not leave much time for friends or for going out or for the wasting of hours.’
‘Time being of the essence in the saving of wayward souls?’
‘You are laughing at me?’
He shook his head, taking her hand as he stepped forward. A small hand without adornment, fingers slender and still. She did not snatch it away, a fact that heartened him.
‘Not laughing. Harriet will need time to come to terms with what she has lost and when she stops looking over her shoulder and turns to gaze ahead, then she will live again.’
‘Was it like that for you? After your accident?’
‘It was.’
‘She told me that now she feels she is ruined for ever.’
‘She is young, Charlotte, and for ever is a very long time.’
* * *
His thumb ran in a circle on the inside of her palm. Distracting her. She wanted to let the words go and clasp on to him, tightly, the wine settling in her stomach with warmth, a wine that was different from any she had ever tasted before.
But he’d moved back and the next second a servant appeared, wheeling a small table into the room, food laden on its top.
‘The cook has made a selection of things to begin with. I did not know the food you favoured so she has made an array to suit differing tastes.’ He placed two dining chairs at the table and pulled one out for her.
Lottie sat on one side and Jasper on the other, but the table was so small she could have still reached across to touch him.
‘I have been doing some asking around about Mr Carvall, and it seems as if he is a man who disappears
often. But I found Frank Wilkes in the Rookery this afternoon and threatened him with taking all I know of his part in this to the police unless he helps us.’
‘How?’
‘I have asked him to set up another meeting with Carvall at the laundry and to let me know of the timings. I will take my own men with me when he does and I have sweetened the deal with a good amount of gold.’
‘Do you think you can trust him? Wilkes?’
He shook his head. ‘No, he is a pimp who has traded young women for gain, so I doubt he is going to be the sort who suddenly discovers a moral compass. But if the meeting is at the laundry then at least I know the place and the surroundings. Twigg will back me up, too.’
Charlotte felt sick. He’d twice been beaten by those associated with Carvall and a third attempt at uncovering the prostitution ring set around Old Pye Street seemed even more dangerous than the last two.
‘Perhaps we should just go to the constabulary with the facts we have already?’
‘And let those involved escape to start all over again, somewhere else? You would want that?’
This meeting had gone off on a tangent somehow, all the danger derailing her calm. Now fear shrank the hope she had arrived with and the kiss she had been thinking of faded into the distance.
‘I want you to be safe,’ she said. The bruises on his face were so easily seen this evening and his arm was bandaged. ‘I don’t want you hurt any more.’
‘Hell, I could be saying the same to you for wandering these parts of a dangerous London always alone. If Carvall did not see you there at the Marquis of Granby tavern playing your ruse as the furious wife, then others will certainly remember you and it won’t be long till they put your face and that of the Foundation together. And then what? How can you protect yourself?’
‘Do you think things like this have not happened before? Do you think it’s easy dealing with people at the end of their wits clutching to the last shreds of their existence?’
Frustration made the words louder than she had meant them.