by Joan Wolf
“Sit you down,” she said, pointing to the chair, and I dropped into it, grateful to get off my shaking legs.
“The man who was chasing me,” I panted. “Has he gone?”
She went to the window and peered out between the curtains. “I din’t see him.” In the dim light of the single candle I saw her back stiffen. “Wait a minute, here he be now.”
“Oh God,” I muttered. “Did anyone see me come in here?”
“I din’t think so,” she replied. “It’s sommat quiet out there tonight. I was standing in the doorway for two hours and only got one customer.”
For the first time I realized that I had been rescued by a whore.
We waited in silence for what seemed to me a very long time. Then she turned, and said to me, “It be all right now. He’s gone.”
The tension went out of my lungs in a whoosh. “Thank God.” I rubbed my hands together, like Lady Macbeth trying to wash off Duncan’s blood, and said shakily, “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been good enough to call to me. The man who was chasing me was going to kill me.”
She turned completely away from the window and surveyed me from the tips of my feet to the top of my head. I knew I must look terrible. My shoes were filthy from the streets, my hair had come undone and was tumbling down my back, and my clothes and my hands were streaked with Alf’s blood. But I was wearing a silk domino and under the cape was a dress that I was certain must have cost more than this woman could earn in five years.
The baby in the cot began to cry. The woman went over and picked him up and cradled him tenderly in her arms.
“He’s hungry,” she said and matter-of-factly she unfastened the front of her dress and began to nurse her child.
It was my turn to look at her.
She was very young and appallingly thin. I thought she would have been pretty if she were not so thin. Her blue muslin dress was threadbare, but clean.
The whole room, in fact, looked clean. It smelled, of course, but not the way the rest of the rooms I had been in that night had smelled.
“Why was someone trying to kill you?” she asked me in a matter-of-fact voice. “Did you get some gent’s wife angry at you?”
It was then that I realized she had mistaken me for a fellow whore.
I said, “No, I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that. In fact, my husband is going to be very upset when he discovers that I’m missing.”
“You got a husband?”
“I do indeed have a husband.” I gave her my friendliest smile. “I am Georgiana Mansfield,” I said, “and my husband is the Earl of Winterdale.”
She jerked, and her baby lost her nipple. He yelled with outrage and she connected him back to his food supply. “You ain’t serious?” she said. “You ain’t no countess?”
Once more I gave her my friendly smile. “I am afraid that I am. And what is your name?”
“Maria,” came the mumbled reply.
“Are you from Sussex, Maria?” I asked gently.
Once again her head jerked around to look at me. “How’d you know?”
“I am from Sussex also. I recognized your accent.”
The girl heaved a heartfelt sigh. “I wish I was still in Sussex,” she confessed. “I thought I was so smart, coming up to Lunnon. Sussex wasn’t good enough for the likes of me, I thought. No, I was going to get a job as a milliner’s assistant. No life as a farmer’s wife for the likes o’ Maria Sarton, I thought.” She snorted. “What a fool I was.”
“What gave you the idea of becoming a milliner’s assistant?” I asked curiously. It was not a thought that would normally occur to a Sussex farmgirl, which clearly is what Maria had been.
“Some woman stopped me one day when I was comin’ home from minding the sheep,” Maria said. “Told me she was looking for a pretty girl like me to work in her shop. Fool that I was, I believed her. I took her money and sneaked away on the stage. Only thing was, when I got to Lunnon and looked the lady up, it turns out she was Ma Nightingale, the worst abbess in London.”
“Abbess?” I queried.
“She run a brothel, my lady,” came the brutal reply. “And that was where she put me to work, not at no milliner’s shop.”
I stared at the young woman, appalled. “But that is a horrendous story, Maria. Couldn’t you have gone back home to your family?”
“I din’t have no money, my lady. Ma Nightingale made bloody well sure of that. Nor did my folks know where I’d gone to, so they couldn’t come lookin’ for me. Not that they would have. My ma and pa had six other mouths to feed. They were probably just as glad to get shut of me.”
I was horrified by this tale, told so simply and in such a matter-of-fact tone of voice. I said a little hesitantly, “Are you still working in this brothel?”
“No, my lady. When I got myself in the family way, Ma Nightingale threw me out. I can tell you, it’s been hard goin’ for me ever since. I’ve had to stand in doorways and get my business from passersby.”
Maria’s story was getting more and more frightful. I remembered the terror that I had felt at the thought that Alf and Jem might lay their hands on me, and this poor girl had it happen to her every night.
“Well today is your lucky day, Maria,” I said to her firmly. “If you will help me to get back to my husband, I can promise you that you will never want for money again.”
She sat in silence, holding her child to her breast. Then she said, in a small, tentative, heartbreaking voice, “Do you really mean that, my lady?”
“I most certainly do. If it had not been for you taking compassion upon me tonight, I would have been dead. I owe you my life, Maria, and I am not a person who forgets her debts. You and your baby will be taken care of from now on. I give you my word on it.”
She pressed her lips against her baby’s head. “Oh my God,” she said. “Oh my God.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them away. It wouldn’t do to get maudlin, I thought. I had to get back to Philip before I could do anything to help Maria.
“How can we get a message to Grosvenor Square?” I asked her. “Is it possible to get a hackney cab in this neighborhood?”
She laughed shakily. “No, my lady, that it is not.”
It was cold in the room, and I could see that Maria was shivering. So was I. I looked at the empty grate.
“Do you have any coal?” I asked.
“No, my lady. I used my last scoop yesterday.”
I tried not to think about my creature comforts and concentrated instead on my immediate future. “What about in the morning?” I asked. “Could we get a cab in the morning?”
“Not here, my lady. We’d have to walk toward the river.”
I was afraid to venture forth in the daylight. I was certain that Alf and Jem would still be on the lookout for me.
How was I going to get back home?
I meditated for a minute and a name surfaced in my mind. “By any chance do you know someone named Claven?” I asked.
She stiffened, and once again the baby yelled with indignation at being cut off from his milk supply. “I should think so! That is, I don’t know him, but I know of him, certainly. Everyone does.” She frowned at me. “How do you know Claven, my lady?”
“I don’t know him at all. My husband does. Is it possible for you to get in touch with Claven, Maria?”
“It might be,” she replied cautiously. “The man upstairs is a messenger, and he works for Claven sometimes.”
“If I can reach Claven, then I’m certain that he will make it possible for me to get home safely,” I told Maria. “Is this upstairs neighbor of yours at home, do you think?”
“I’ll go and look,” Maria said. The baby had finished nursing and fallen asleep, and she went to lay him in his cot. I noticed that she had a woolen blanket that she folded and put over the child while there was only a thin cotton blanket on her own bed. After she had left the room I went over to the window and stood behind the clean, worn
curtain to peer out at the street.
What a horrible place, I thought, shuddering. I was sure there were rats running through the gutters.
It was outrageous that women had to bring up their babies in places like this.
Well, Maria was not going to have to bring up her baby here, I vowed. I would make Philip give her a nice cottage at Winterdale Park, where she could eat healthy food and drink plenty of milk and enjoy the warm Surrey sunshine.
“He ain’t there.” It was Maria coming back in the door. “Probably out on business. I reckon we’ll have to wait for the morning to catch him.”
I wanted badly to get home. I knew that Frank and Catherine would be frantic with worry about me. But I didn’t seem to have any choice. It would be foolish in the extreme for me to venture forth unprotected upon the streets again. I had been saved once. I couldn’t count upon God providing a second miracle.
“All right,” I said, resigned to the fact that I was going to have to spend the rest of the night in this freezing room.
“You take the bed, my lady,” Maria said. “I can sit up in the chair.”
“I wouldn’t dream of taking your bed from you, Maria,” I said firmly.
This was not merely politeness on my part. Doubtless I was being a prude, but the thought of what must have transpired in that bed truly disgusted me. I would rather freeze by the empty grate than lay amidst the scene of all those sexual horrors.
“You don’t know anyone from whom you could borrow a little coal at this hour, do you?” I asked hopefully.
“I am afraid not, my lady.”
“Oh well,” I said heartily. “I have my domino, Maria. I shall be just fine. Don’t even think about me, just get into your own bed and get some rest. We’ll try to catch your neighbor in the morning.”
After a few more protests, she saw that I meant what I said and we all settled down for the night.
The chair I was sitting in was hard, and a silk domino provides no warmth when it is worn over a short-sleeved, half-torn evening gown. I shivered for hours. I don’t think I have ever been so glad to see the sky beginning to lighten with the coming day as I was that morning.
The baby woke Maria, crying to be fed. After she had taken care of him she went upstairs to see if her neighbor had returned home yet. She returned with a wizened little man who had a gimpy leg and a nasty scar on his right cheek.
“This is my neighbor, Colin Tregrew,” Maria said to me. “Colin, this lady is the Countess of Winterdale.”
“I need to get in touch with a man called Claven, Mr. Tregrew,” I said. “Can you do that for me?”
“I reckon I can,” he returned cautiously. “What is it that you wants me to tell him, my lady?”
“Just tell him that Lord Winterdale’s wife was attacked at Vauxhall last night and begs his assistance in being returned to her home in Grosvenor Square.”
The little man looked me up and down with sharp, glittering, dark eyes. The blood had dried on my domino leaving ugly rusty-colored stains. I kept it pulled together over my dress so that he could not see the tear that exposed my breasts. I was quite sure that my nose was red as a cherry from the cold. It was certainly running, and I could not disguise the fact that I was shivering badly.
“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll tell him that.” He turned to Maria. “I can let you have a wee bit of coal first before I go.”
“That would be wonderful!” I said. I had gotten to the point where I didn’t think I would ever be warm again.
The blessed Mr. Tregrew returned with the promised coal and started a fire for us before he took his departure. I stood in front of the grate and toasted myself while Maria took care of the baby.
Maria said, “I usually go out to buy some bread for breakfast. Would you care for something to eat, my lady?”
“I lost my reticule when I was attacked last night or I would give you the money to get breakfast, Maria,” I said regretfully. “Are you sure you have enough to get something for me, too?”
“I will if I use my supper money, too,” she replied.
“You won’t need your supper money as you will be coming home with me,” I promised her. “Go ahead and get us some breakfast.”
I was starving.
While Maria was gone, the baby began to cry, and I picked him up from his cot and walked him around the room, patting him on the back. He heaved a huge burp, and stopped crying. I didn’t put him back into his cot immediately, though. It was a very nice feeling to hold a baby in one’s arms, I thought.
Perhaps one day soon I would be holding a baby of my own.
Maria returned with the promised bread, I put the baby back into his cot, and we stood in front of the fire to eat.
The bread was so hard and so stale that I could scarcely chew it.
Maria chewed it, though. The poor girl ate that dreadful stale bread as if it was a dish from the Prince Regent’s kitchen. I pretended not to be very hungry and gave her mine, and she ate that, too.
I was standing in front of the fire, hungry but warmer, when there came a knock upon the door.
“Maria, it’s me. Colin.”
Maria ran to open the door and there in the doorway stood the hugest man I had ever seen in my life.
Mr. Tregrew said, “This here is Mr. Claven. He’s come to meet Lady Winterdale.”
I stepped forward. “I am Lady Winterdale. Come in, Mr. Claven. I am very grateful to you for coming to see me.”
The giant ducked his head and came into the room, which immediately seemed half the size. He had shoulders that were as wide as my armspan and he had to be six feet four inches in height. He was immense.
He looked at me and immediately noticed the bloodstains on my domino. He didn’t ask about them immediately, however, First he said, “How did you know to send for me?”
“My husband told me that you were helping him to find out who was trying to harm me,” I said.
He had thick light brown hair and thick light brown eyebrows and he frowned at me now and said, “It’s not like Philip to mention my name.”
His speech was curiously accentless, as if he had worked very hard to remove any traces of his origin from it. He reminded me of a lion—not the poor scruffy one whom I had encountered at the Tower, but a sleek, powerful lion in the full strength of his maturity and health.
“He was quite drunk when he told me,” I said coolly. “That was your fault, I believe.”
He grinned suddenly, and the menace I had sensed in his presence disappeared.
“It took me two days to recover from that night,” he said. “Becoming respectable hasn’t softened Philip’s head one little bit.”
It occurred to me that my husband appeared to be on a first-name basis with every scoundrel in London.
Claven’s face once again became serious and he said, “All right, then, Lady Winterdale. You’d better tell me exactly what happened.”
I told him everything, starting from Frank and I being attacked at Vauxhall to my rescue by Maria.
“Alf and Jem,” he said thoughtfully.
“Ain’t they the coves that worked for Lamey?” Mr. Tregrew asked.
“I believe so,” Claven said. “Have them picked up, will you Colin? I want to talk to them.”
On the surface he sounded calm and reasonable, but for some reason, I shuddered.
He looked at me. “The first thing we need to do, Lady Winterdale, is to see that you get home. Philip will murder me if anything happens to you. I’m surprised he wasn’t banging down the door of my office last night.”
It seemed so odd to hear this man, who was evidently the king of the London underworld, talking about his “office,” just as if he were a respectable barrister.
“My husband went to Winterdale Park yesterday so he doesn’t know about my abduction,” I explained. “But he should be back in London this afternoon.”
“I see.” Claven gave me a look that was almost as intimidating as Philip’s blue stare could b
e. “May I give you some advice, Lady Winterdale? Don’t leave your husband’s sight until we get this little puzzle resolved. It was very stupid of you to go to Vauxhall alone last night.”
“I didn’t go alone,” I protested. “I went with friends. One of them is a Peninsula veteran, for heaven’s sake!”
“Fighting in a war is one thing; street fighting is something else. As I have just told you, don’t go anywhere without your husband.”
Claven turned to Mr. Tregrew. “Get a hackney to come along here, will you, Colin? Then you can put out the word for Alf and Jem.”
CHAPTER
twenty-two
CLAVEN HIMSELF ESCORTED MARIA AND ME BACK TO Grosvenor Square. Catherine and Frank came running into the hall from the drawing room as soon as they heard Mason say my name, and Catherine flung her arms around me and held me tight.
“Is his lordship at home?” I heard Claven asking Mason.
“His lordship is from home at present,” Mason answered icily. Apparently, even though Claven was dressed in proper morning clothes of blue coat and fawn-colored breeches, and even though his voice bore no traces of dialect, the butler had decided that the huge man was not worthy of being addressed as a gentleman.
I loosened Catherine’s arms from their grip around me and ignored Frank’s urgent questions about my well-being to go shake Claven’s hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Claven, for your assistance,” I said fervently. “I will tell my husband how you helped me to get home.”
“Tell Philip to come and see me as soon as he returns,” Claven recommended. He gave me an admonitory look. “And don’t go anywhere without him.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
As Claven turned to leave, the slender forms of Maria and her baby, who had been sheltering behind him, were revealed to the rest of the people in the hall. I went to put an arm around my rescuer and bring her forward. “Come and meet my friends, Maria,” I said. “I want them to know how much I owe you.”
Maria pressed against me. I saw the frightened and awed look she cast around the vast marble hall, and my mind went back to my first visit to Mansfield House. I knew exactly how intimidated she was feeling.