It was at one such party that Lettie, sipping champagne, told her how the social world gave her pleasure.
‘Indeed, I often feel guilty at my willingness to leave my work in order to enjoy dissipation,’ she joked.
The remark caused Adeline to give her a frowning, suspicious look. Lettie often went out alone at night. She gave no indication of where she went, and she rarely returned until the following morning, so Marjorie had confided to her. In fact, Lettie had begun behaving rather oddly of late, she’d said, and she was often very pale.
It was clear that Marjorie was worried about her, but Adeline, not wishing to pry into her friend’s private life—and presuming her outings were connected to her work—did not raise the subject. However, she sensed all was not as it should be with her friend, and that she assumed a cheerfulness she did not feel.
It wasn’t until Marjorie told her that Lettie always implied to her mother that she was spending the night at Eaton Place with Adeline that Adeline, beginning to think there was more to Lettie’s nocturnal activities than her work, and that the man she had told her about at Oaklands might have something to do with it, thought it was time she spoke to her.
‘When are you going to introduce me to your young man, Lettie?’ she asked outright.
Lettie suddenly became tense, and glanced at her sharply. ‘Do you want to meet him?’
‘Of course. I’m curious. You never talk about him.’
‘That’s because he—he’s not the type of man that you’re used to.’
Adeline laughed lightly in an attempt to lighten the conversation. ‘Why? Has he got two heads or something?’
Lettie smiled. ‘Silly—of course he hasn’t. He—he…’
‘He?’ Adeline prompted, sensing Lettie’s reluctance to discuss him but determined to find out more. ‘Does he have a name?’
‘Jack. His name is Jack Cunningham. He’s respectable, of course,’ she uttered rather forcefully—more to convince herself than Adeline, Adeline thought.
‘What does he do?’
‘He—he owns a nightclub in the West End.’
Adeline was surprised. It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear, and she felt an uncomfortable stirring of unease. ‘Oh, I see. How interesting. How did you come to meet him?’
‘Diana Waverley introduced us at the Drury Lane Theatre. She was there with a large party, celebrating something or other. Jack was among them. As soon as I saw him I was attracted to him.’ Lettie sighed. ‘I can see you’re shocked, Adeline. Mother wouldn’t approve—there’s nothing more certain—and Grant would definitely have a great deal to say about it. But Jack really cares for me. I know he does.’
The way Lettie emphasised those last four words made Adeline think she was trying to make herself believe this.
‘I’d introduce you to him if I could,’ Lettie said quickly, ‘but it’s rather difficult, you see. He—he’s so busy. And besides, I couldn’t possibly take you to a place like that.’
Adeline looked at her steadily. ‘What? A nightclub?’ Lettie nodded. ‘But you go, don’t you, Lettie?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve been on one occasion, that’s all. Jack doesn’t like me to go there. He has a house in Chelsea.’
‘And you stay all night?’
Sensing Adeline’s disapproval, Lettie stared right back at her, and there was defiance in the sudden lift to her chin. ‘Yes. It’s the only time Jack and I can be together. Adeline—I am an adult. I know perfectly well what I am doing.’
Lettie’s words had shocked Adeline, but the sharpness with which they were spoken shocked her more. ‘I’m sure you do, Lettie, and I’m not going to be judgemental, I promise. But—well—you do seem to be behaving out of character. I think I know you well enough by now to know it’s not like you to carry on a clandestine affair.’
Lettie’s eyes clouded over and she sighed. ‘I suppose it must look like that to you. Love—or whatever you like to call it—physical attraction—does strange things to people. All I know is that when I’m with Jack I don’t want to leave him. He makes me come alive. I feel excitement, danger and passion all wrapped into one. You must know how that feels, Adeline. Didn’t you feel that way when you and Grant…?’
Adeline stiffened. She wasn’t enjoying the conversation, or the turn it had taken, which threatened to resurrect all the feelings and emotions concerning Grant Leighton she had carefully locked away in her mind. ‘Stop it, Lettie. Whatever happened between Grant and me is over, so there’s no sense in talking about it.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Did I tell you that Grant is in London? He’s on his way to France, but he has some business here to attend to first—something about some land he’s interested in buying that’s to be developed across the river. He’s staying at the Charing Cross Hotel.’
‘No, you didn’t, Lettie—and in any case your brother’s activities are nothing to do with me,’ Adeline replied, doing her best to ignore the sudden lurch her heart gave at the mere thought of Grant being so close. Quickly she dismissed Lettie’s attempt to steer the conversation away from her and Jack Cunningham. ‘I—I just wish you hadn’t told Lady Stanfield you were staying here with me. I don’t like untruths, Lettie. They have an unpleasant habit of being found out.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry about that,’ she said, sounding contrite. ‘I didn’t want to involve you. But it’s the only way I can see Jack.’
‘Can I meet him?’ The need to see what Jack Cunningham looked like was driving all caution from Adeline’s mind.
Lettie shifted awkwardly and her expression became guarded. ‘I don’t know. I’ve told you—he’s always working.’
‘You can’t get out of it that easily. He doesn’t work all the time, surely? We can go to his club. If he’s busy then we’ll either wait until he’s finished or go back another time.’
Lettie, knowing that Adeline wasn’t going to be put off, reluctantly relented. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
The following afternoon they took a cab to the heart of the West End, made up of dance halls, glittering restaurants, rough and tumble hostelries, brothels and dubious hotels of every kind. Leaving the main thoroughfare, they went down a narrow passage towards a projecting porch that threw the door into deep shadow, for it was two-thirds below ground level. A sign above advertised the Phoenix Club. They went down a flight of steps and came to a room below street level. A row of pegs and a short counter—a pay desk, Adeline assumed—were facing them. A couple of lighted gas-brackets hissed on the wall.
Pushing her way through a double swing door, Lettie urged Adeline to follow her, telling her that Jack was usually in his office at this time. Adeline stared around her in amazement. They were in a long vaulted room brightly lit by flaring gas, its floor of polished boards. There were alcoves, each with its own curtain—looped back for now—which could be released from its restraining cords to offer the inhabitants more privacy. Mirrors and pictures adorned the walls, and spittoons were plentiful. The décor was rich and subdued, the chairs plush. At the far end of the room was a raised dais with music stands and chairs, and to the side of this was a spiral staircase, rising into the dark.
A woman, unaware that she was being observed, was almost at the top, and only the lower half of her body could be seen. The train of her gown—a bold saffron-coloured silk with crimson trim—trailed behind her. Adeline watched until she’d disappeared, aware of the cloying fragrance of musk in the air—a fragrance not unfamiliar to her, which brought Diana Waverley to mind. But the woman could have been anyone. The scent was not unusual, and was favoured by many women of her acquaintance.
For the moment the Phoenix Club, flagship of Jack Cunningham’s empire, remained dark and silent and private. But during its hours of activity Adeline could imagine how it would look. The cleaners had done their job, clearing away the previous night’s debris, but the air was still thick with the odours of stale cigar smoke and liquor.
Suddenly a man ap
peared from a side room, smoking a cheroot, a glass of brandy in his hand. About thirty-five, he was swarthy, tall and well built, with tight curling black hair, side whiskers and a neatly trimmed moustache. An arrogant, smiling mouth dominated a square jaw.
On seeing Lettie, Adeline observed how his pale blue eyes had narrowed—with annoyance, she thought—but it was quickly gone, and his mouth stretched into a wide, unconvincing smile.
‘Hello, Princess. This is a surprise—you know how I dislike you coming here,’ he remarked, placing his glass on a table. Taking Lettie in his arms, he planted a firm kiss on her lips. Over Lettie’s head his eyes slid to Adeline, standing a few steps behind, watching her gaze about with evident uncertainty. ‘I didn’t realise we had a visitor.’
Adeline met his eyes, and he looked back at her mockingly. She noticed how he worked his way from her face to the outline of her breasts. Unappreciative of his somewhat brazen interest, she stepped back. A hungry look came into his eyes and she shuddered—violently.
‘And a lovely one at that.’
‘I—I hope you don’t mind, Jack. I know how busy you are, but we were shopping close by and I didn’t think you’d mind if I brought Adeline in to see the club—and to meet you, of course.’
‘I’m delighted you did. I’m never too busy to see you, Princess, you know that. I’ve heard all about you from Lettie, Adeline.’ His smile was open and beguiling as he held out his hand and his voice came over to Adeline silken-smooth.
She extended her hand in a businesslike manner and quickly withdrew it after a slight shake, glad she was wearing gloves. Leaning against him, Lettie looked relaxed and happy, with Jack smiling down into her eyes, plainly trying to make a good impression on Adeline. But Adeline could see below the surface.
The moment Adeline had set eyes on Jack Cunningham she’d known she didn’t like him, and she’d withdrawn, backing away from his company. It was a mental trick of hers, seldom used, and only when her mind was troubled. When she looked at him she was aware of her own mixed feelings—and something else that she felt. Something not quite nice. The man exuded cockiness. His expression had a certain arrogance that repelled her completely.
No doubt women found him attractive—Lettie certainly did. His demeanour was correct. He moved and spoke carefully. Yet for all his gentility Jack had an untamed air about him. Adeline was afraid. She didn’t like the feeling. What did he want with Lettie? When he looked at her the look was intimate, triumphant—one of ownership—the look of a man incapable of love.
‘Now you’ve braved the doors of the Phoenix,’ Jack said, his eyes fixed intently of Adeline, ‘you can’t leave without taking refreshment. You must join me in a drink.’
‘Yes,’ Lettie said, somewhat breathlessly. ‘We’d love to, Jack.’
‘Good—something suited to a lady’s taste. A glass of champagne, I think.’
‘Thank you,’ Adeline said composedly, ‘but I don’t drink anything stronger than tea in the afternoon.’
Jack lifted his glass in a wry salute. ‘Very wise. And are you a member of Lettie’s ladies’ movement—emancipation and equality and all that nonsense?’
‘No. Up to now I have not been drawn in.’
‘You have different opinions?’
‘Not at all. I agree with everything I hear. I admire the work they do enormously, and all they strive to achieve.’
‘You’re not one of those damned temperance fanatics, I hope, who won’t be happy until they’ve closed down every club and tavern in London?’
‘No, I’m not one of those, either.’
The atmosphere was uncomfortable. Lettie was aware of it, and also of the tension inside Adeline. She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Look, Jack, do you mind if we forgo the drink? We have heaps to do, and the shops don’t remain open all day. I’ll probably see you later.’
He shrugged. ‘That’s a shame. You must arrange to bring Adeline out to Chelsea some time, Lettie—then we can become better acquainted.’
Adeline met his direct gaze without blinking. ‘Thank you. I would like that,’ she lied. ‘Goodbye, Mr Cunningham.’
‘The pleasure’s entirely mine.’
When they emerged from the club the narrow, dimly lit passage seemed a mite chillier, and the thought of seeing Jack Cunningham again even less appealing. Suddenly a woman stepped out of the shadows, barring their way. In the gloom her age could have been anything from twenty-five to forty. A shawl that had seen better days was wrapped protectively about her thin body.
‘Are you Miss Leighton?’ she said, her voice low as she addressed Lettie.
Adeline could tell by the way her eyes kept darting to the doorway of the Phoenix Club that she was nervous.
‘I am,’ Lettie replied.
‘I want a word with you—it’s about Jack.’ She glanced at Adeline. ‘Private, like.’
Lettie turned to her friend. ‘Would you mind, Adeline? I’ll only be a moment.’
‘Of course not. I’ll wait for you at the end of the passage.’
Looking back, Adeline saw the woman had drawn Lettie back into the shadows and that she was speaking animatedly. After five minutes Lettie joined her, her expression grave.
‘What did she want? And how did she know who you were?’
‘She—she’s seen me with Jack,’ Lettie told her with a sudden wariness. ‘She knows the work I’m involved with, and has come to me for help. She—she’s ill—probably bronchitis—I can’t be sure—and she can’t afford to pay a doctor. I gave her the address of a charity clinic I know of run by volunteers, where street women who are ill or injured can go. They’ll help her.’
‘I see. And that’s all she wanted?’
‘Of course.’
When Lettie moved away to look for a cab, Adeline turned over what she had said, her sixth sense telling her that Lettie was not revealing the whole of it, and for some reason was unwilling to say more.
‘You don’t like Jack, do you?’ Lettie remarked when they were in the cab taking them back to Eaton Place, the woman forgotten for the moment. ‘Don’t deny it, Adeline. It won’t be any use, because I know you don’t.’ She didn’t speak aggressively. She sounded calm and unemotional.
‘No,’ Adeline replied. ‘Since you ask me so directly, I don’t especially.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t.’
‘He’s not the sort of person who appeals to me—but I’m not the one he’s seeing. I don’t know him, of course—you obviously know him very well.’
‘I’m not sure that I do,’ Lettie murmured, averting her eyes.
‘Then you should. You should know the man you’re—’
Lettie turned and fixed her eyes on her candidly. ‘What? Sleeping with?’
‘I was going to say having a relationship with, but I suppose sleeping with is the same thing.’
‘Do you think I’m wicked?’
‘No, of course I don’t, Lettie. Please don’t think that. To me you are a dear friend, and the kindest, nicest person I have ever known, but I cannot like Jack Cunningham. If you must know, I thought he was absolutely dreadful. He has an air of danger about him—something that’s not quite nice—sinister, even—and I do urge you to be careful. Do you intend to go on seeing him?’
Lettie nodded and looked away. ‘Yes. I must. I like him. He’s fun to be with and he excites me—at least for now.’
‘You are of age—I can’t stop you doing this foolish thing.’ For the first time Adeline saw a mutinous twist in the set of Lettie’s lips.
‘No, no one can.’ After a moment’s silence she looked back at Adeline and took her hand firmly in her own. ‘Please don’t tell Lady Stanfield, will you, Adeline? Promise me you won’t.’
‘But you must see this is wrong, Lettie,’ Adeline said, as calmly as she could.
‘Promise me,’ Lettie demanded, a fierce, hard light in her eyes. ‘This is no one’s business but mine, Adeline, and I shall resent interference from anyone. Do you understand?’
&
nbsp; Adeline nodded. ‘Very well. I promise not to mention it to Lady Stanfield.’
That night Adeline lay awake most of the night, worrying miserably and imagining problems each more fantastic than the last. Her mind was in too much of a turmoil to work coherently. The serious implications of what Lettie was doing gave her no rest. She pictured Lettie—quick, clever and vivacious Lettie—brought low at the hands of Jack Cunningham. He was dangerous, and Adeline was afraid he would love Lettie lightly and discard her—his depth of commitment shallow. What would that do to her?
One thing she knew was that she could not remain detached. But she was out of her depth. She wasn’t the kind of person to fall apart in a crisis, but this was something she had never had to cope with. Oh, dear God, what to do for the best? She couldn’t go to Lady Stanfield because she had promised Lettie she wouldn’t. But who else was there?
Grant! Lettie had told her that he was here in London, staying at the Charing Cross Hotel. Immediately she sat upright in bed. The idea that had just occurred to her was so simple she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before—but she did know why. It was because Grant had told her he never wanted to set eyes on her again. But this matter was too important for her to be deterred by the furious rantings of a spurned suitor.
Grant would know what to do. Grant would make Lettie stop seeing Jack Cunningham. Oh, brilliant, wonderful hope. He would put it right. Yes, she thought, Grant. There was no one else.
Her mind made up, suddenly she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and her relief was so great she felt weak. The thought did occur to her that Grant might not want to see her but when he knew how important it was, and that it concerned Lettie, he would have to.
And so the following morning found her ordering the brougham to take her to the Charing Cross Hotel.
The hotel was every bit as grand and opulent as Adeline had expected, with deep carpets and a plethora of flowers. As she passed through the foyer she couldn’t stop herself from indulging in a tormentingly sweet fantasy—a frail hope that made her heart accelerate—that when Grant saw her he would be glad to see her. She looked at the well-to-do people milling about. Her face was flushed as she realised she had never felt so unsure of herself in her life. The qualms she had kept firmly at bay rushed at her. Until now the need for haste and a determination not to anticipate trouble had sustained her, but she felt far from heroic, alone and clutching her reticule.
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