Nobody’s Darling
Page 22
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‘Are you ready, Father?’ Teresa Arnold was agitated, anxious to leave. Having found her father, she had managed to draw him away from a deep discussion regarding the dockers and Ben Tillett, who had fought on their behalf for a minimum four-hour day at sixpence an hour, and overtime paid at eighteenpence an hour. Across the country, in every industry, this astonishing success was seen by all employers as the thin end of a very painful wedge.
Oliver Arnold looked tired. ‘I’m ready whenever you are, my dear,’ he said. ‘What about your brother?’ He raised his head and looked about, and she did the same. But while he caught sight of Luke, Teresa glanced towards the window and saw Johnny there. At once she was intrigued. He looked grey and shocked. She followed his gaze and it led her straight to Ruby. She was puzzled. He seemed to recognise that young woman, to know her. But how could he know her? Stable-hands and genteel ladies would hardly meet in social circumstances. Work then? She reasoned how Johnny might have worked for that young woman’s family at some time or another. But when? Surely, Johnny had worked for her father ever since he was old enough? Still, there had to be an explanation. It occurred to her that perhaps Johnny’s mother had taken her with him while she was in service at a household in the past, and this was where he had encountered the young woman. Yes, that would be it, she was certain. But then, why did he seem so shocked to see her?
She smiled. ‘A little puzzle,’ she murmured. She enjoyed a ‘little puzzle’. Later when the household was asleep and they could be alone without anyone knowing, she would ask him herself. Oh, but then she might have other things on her mind, she thought wickedly. In her mind’s eye was the image of Johnny as she had seen him at the pump, half-naked and bronzed by the sun. A thrill rippled through her.
‘Quickly, Father. It’s time we were away,’ she said impatiently. And it was only a matter of moments before they had collected Luke, and the three of them were thanking Jeffrey Banks and his daughter for ‘a wonderful evening’.
Outside, Johnny gave no indication of the trauma he had suffered on seeing Ruby in that house, with those people. Though devastated and confused, and even a little angry, he smiled at the master as he opened the carriage door, and when he was asked about Thomas, replied in a steady voice, ‘I left him sleeping soundly, sir. Don’t you worry about Thomas. I’ll take good care of him.’
‘I’m sure you will.’ Johnny’s responsible behaviour and keen sense of duty had made a deep impression on Oliver Arnold. ‘If you need anything, you have only to ask,’ he assured the coachman, simultaneously ushering his children into the carriage, before he himself climbed in.
There was a hint of rain in the air and the night had grown pitch black. All along the hedgerows the wind whistled and played, making weird howling sounds that rose above the clatter of the carriage wheels. Johnny’s thoughts were dark and brooding. As he drove the horses along the lane, his fists were clenched on the reins and his head was bent to the wind. There was a hard knot of rage at the base of his chest. All he could think of was Ruby. She had been in that house, smiling and dancing with Luke Arnold. His heartbeat was frantic, and he struggled to make sense of how Lizzie Miller’s daughter could have come to be there, so bold and daring, done up in a fine silk dress and behaving as though she was one of the gentry. ‘Been called in to work tonight,’ Lizzie had told him. ‘Staying over.’ He wondered what she would say if she knew the truth. ‘By God!’ he muttered. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
The rain started then, great splashy drops that fell against the road and bounced in the carriage lights. It came down with a vengeance, sweeping the skies and falling upon him until he was drenched to the skin. He heard the master call out something, but his voice was taken by the wind. ‘It’s all right. I’m okay, sir,’ Johnny shouted, guessing that Oliver Arnold was concerned about him being exposed to the weather. ‘We’re almost home.’
Drawing the carriage as near to the front door as he could, Johnny ushered his passengers out one after the other, each one running into the house under a hail of thunder. Only Teresa lingered, leaning towards him to whisper teasingly, ‘If you ask me nicely, I’d be only too delighted to dry your back.’
‘Goodnight, miss,’ he said firmly, enraging her when he surreptitiously brushed her aside.
She didn’t answer him. But her smile said it all when she looked at him demurely from beneath dripping lashes. At the door she turned and watched him drive away. Desire for him burned within her. ‘Don’t think you can escape me so easily this time,’ she murmured into the darkness. Then she hurried inside, eager to soak in a hot bath and mentally go over the finer details of her little plan.
After he had taken off his outer garments, Johnny wiped down the horses, then fed and watered them before going upstairs to check on the old fellow. Thomas was hard and fast asleep. With tender fingers, Johnny covered him over with the blanket which he had thrown off in his dreams. That done, he softly tiptoed from the room, leaving the door ajar, in case the old fellow called out for him. After that he went down to the stables. Here, he lit the ancient stove and put a half-filled kettle on it. Soon the water was boiling, and once the tea was brewed he poured himself a generous measure of the strong black liquid. For a long time he sat on the trestle, rolling the mug between his capable hands, his tortured mind dwelling on the events of the night.
Johnny had long known of Ruby’s dreams: dreams of being rich, dreams of taking her beloved family out of the slums and into a ‘better’ world. He could remember the first time she made it known. One summer’s day about five years back he had been in the street when his attention was drawn by the children’s laughter. Ruby was standing in the middle of them, unashamed and proud. Her strong dark eyes swam with tears as she faced the taunts and laughter.
‘Laugh if you like,’ she told them defiantly, ‘but one day, when I’m a woman, I will be rich and famous. You’ll see!’
On that day, Johnny realised he would have to be a special kind of man if he was to win her heart.
He couldn’t blame her for having such powerful ambitions. But until this night he had never known how deeply they had affected her. He raked his mind, searching for reasons. Ruby was young yet, but poverty and the responsibility of being the eldest in a large family had matured her too quickly. Ambitions could be a terrible thing, he thought. They could shape a person out of all recognition. He adored Ruby, loved her with every inch of his being. For many a long day and night, he had imagined himself and Ruby as man and wife, travelling through each God-given day together, raising a family and spending the rest of their lives together.
Even though she gave him little quarter, he had never lost sight of his own dream. Now though, after what he’d witnessed tonight, he was desperately afraid. What he had seen was etched too deeply in his mind; Ruby, lost in the arms of a man with dubious character, smiling and dancing and wearing that beautiful dress as though she was born in it. Was that her ambition… was that what she really wanted out of life? To be gentry, and to fall in with a devil such as Luke Arnold? Surely not. He couldn’t believe that Ruby would deliberately encourage a man like that. Yet hadn’t he seen it with his own eyes? In heaven’s name, what was she thinking of? Didn’t she realise she was playing with fire? And how was it that a servant could mingle with the guests and not be noticed? There was only one answer to that.
‘Cicely must have encouraged her,’ he realised aloud. Otherwise it would have been impossible. He wondered whether Jeffrey Banks was aware of the deception. Perhaps not. After all, even he hadn’t recognised Ruby straightaway, and he knew her almost as well as he knew himself.
Going to the cupboard where Thomas kept a fresh supply of linen, Johnny collected a towel, a clean shirt and a change of undergarments, all of which he had brought from home. He placed the clean clothes beside his bed, ready for the morning. Then he rubbed himself down with the towel until he was dry and comfortable. Spreading the towel over a timber post, he ran his fingers from for
ehead to neck, smoothing his tousled mop of hair. Somewhere there was a comb, probably in his jacket. But he wasn’t thinking about things like that.
He was thinking of Ruby. Did she have any idea what she might be letting herself in for? Where did she think it would all lead? One day a lady, and the next a servant. Then what? Where did she go from there? How could she continue working, carrying on her duties, as though nothing had happened. Where would it all lead? He dared not think. It was all so incomprehensible. But then, Ruby herself could be incomprehensible. She was like no one else he knew. She was unique, daring and impulsive. Qualities that made him proud, yet filled him with frustration.
The initial shock had subsided, and now he was angry. Darkly, wildly angry. What awful thing was in her that made Ruby crave the unattainable? What was it that made her so restless? Didn’t she realise that she was special, the way the Good Lord had made her? Strong and warm, she was the most naturally good creature he had ever known. Wasn’t that enough for her? Would she go on and on until her ambitions strangled her very soul?
Something else occurred to him in that moment. Something that deadened his heart and brought him out in a cold sweat. Tonight she had widened the distance between them. In his bones he knew she loved him. And yet he knew instinctively that he would never be enough for her. Even now, he was more of a man than Luke Arnold would ever be. He would scour the world to satisfy her every need, and as far as he was able, would nurture and cherish her as no other man on earth could. He was strong and powerful of limb, a willing provider, and had more loving in him than Ruby could ever use up. But she wanted more. Far more than he could ever give. And that crippling knowledge was like the weight of the world across his shoulders.
Disillusioned and torn every which way, Johnny blew out the lamp and climbed into bed. But his mind was still too active to let him sleep. There was rage in him, burning and bubbling and spitting beneath the surface of his weariness until there was murder in his heart. Yet who would he murder? Luke? Ruby? Cicely? Who? Himself maybe? Yes, he would murder himself, and Ruby would never torture him again.
Ashamed, he thought of his mother and weak-willed father, and knew he could never be such a coward. In his mind’s eyes he saw his sister’s pale thin face and large honest eyes, and his heart swelled with love. That love soothed him, and he settled beneath the clothes with a calmer heart. Soon he was sleeping but not empty of anger. It made him turn and fret. The gentle rhythmic sounds of Thomas’s snoring rumbled through the stables. Horses scraped at the straw with the edge of their hooves, and sly old rats scampered through the food racks, filling their stomachs before curling down in the hay until the dawn. Johnny slept too eventually, unaware that, already making her way towards the stables, the lady of the house was bent on making mischief that would rebound on them all.
Outside a barn own screeched, winging its way home, a lifeless mouse caught in its talons, snatched up from the earth even before it had time to cry out. The moon was low now, subdued by the previous fall of rain and criss-crossed with grey scurrying clouds. It was a grim and lonely night, heralding strange shadows and moving shapes which laid low during the daylight and emerged under the cover of darkness.
Into this darkness crept another lonely creature. A dangerously beautiful creature. She too had lain in her bed, naked and restless, aching for Johnny, just as he had ached for Ruby. There was anger in her too. Anger that he hadn’t come to her easily. Anger that she was made to sneak about like a thief in the night in order to lie in his arms. But she would lie in his arms, because overriding the anger of rejection was a fiercer emotion – lust. She lusted after him, and she meant to have him. In all of her short pampered life, she had never been refused. And she would not be refused by Johnny. Not tonight. Not any more.
When she came through the big doors, they creaked beneath their own weight. Remaining quite still, she held her breath, listening for any sound from inside. All was silent. Carefully pushing the doors to, she came forward again. In the darkness, she wasn’t sure which way to go. Through a chink in the old woodwork, she was shown the way by a shaft of watery moonlight. Gripping the timbered rails, she ventured deeper into the great place, her toes touching the ground without a sound and her eyes peering into the dimness.
Teresa knew the stables would be full because hunters and cobs were always brought in from the fields at night, and on this evening, Johnny would have sensed the storm that was already brewing. With the stables filled, and Thomas fiercely possessive about his own quarters above, she reasoned that there could be only one practical place where Johnny might have made his bed. She was smiling as she felt her way along the rails towards the tack-room. She was sure he would be in there.
A moment later she almost stumbled over the bed. It was not exactly where she had imagined it to be. Johnny had placed himself close to the steps which led to Thomas’s rooms, yet not too far from the stables. In that way he would hear any disturbance coming from either quarter. But he hadn’t heard her approach, and he wasn’t aware that she was staring down at him, her avaricious eyes sweeping over his naked chest. He moaned, turning on to his side, and when his hair tumbled over his forehead, Teresa stooped to stroke it gently from his face.
She remained there a moment longer, secretly observing him, her greedy eyes travelling that broad muscular chest, the carpet of thick dark hairs, and pink round nipples poking through. His upper arms were thick and honed by his labours, his hands were strong, fingers long and finely shaped. Now, as he turned on to his back, his head pressed into the bolster, the muscles on his neck and shoulders tightened, thick and magnificent. His chiselled features were incredibly handsome; dark beautifully shaped brows above clean pale eyelids, a straight slim-nostrilled nose and lips that were full and inviting. His chin was square and powerful, and his coal-black hair like an unruly waterfall spilling over his ears and temples. Even in his sleep, Johnny exuded a powerful animality. She had always known how much of a man he was, how rough and raw, how darkly handsome. Now he was hers for the taking.
Ever so softly, she undid the buttons of her mantle and shrugged her shoulders out of it. As it slithered to the floor she laughed softly and continued to look down on him.
For a long delicious moment she enjoyed her own nakedness, preening herself, drawing her long tresses to the front of her shoulders and stroking them. Her trembling fingers touched her breasts, caressing the nipples. Her sighs rippled through the darkened room. She had waited so long. So very long. To wait one moment longer would only heighten the pleasure when at last he wrapped his arms around her.
Gently she plucked the blanket from him. His nakedness made her gasp. His powerful legs were stretched out, slightly parted. Gingerly, she leaned down, letting the tips of her fingers roam his thighs. The touch of his bare skin excited her so that she could hardly breathe.
Suddenly, he was startled awake. With a loud cry, he sat up, dark suspicious eyes still heavy with sleep. When they saw her in the half-light, they widened in horror.
‘YOU!’
The anger was still on him. He had been dreaming of Ruby. Dreaming that she had gone from him forever, walking away on the arm of Luke Arnold. When he’d called out to her, she only laughed in his face. He wanted to drag her away from Luke, to smash his fist into the man’s smiling face. But it wouldn’t do any good. Ruby had laughed at him. She had made her choice, and she was leaving for good. His whole body was covered in a film of sweat. He was trembling. He was awake, yet still enmeshed in that nightmare. Ruby had left him forever. That was all he could think.
‘Don’t send me away,’ Teresa pleaded softly. In the half-light she was stunningly beautiful. Her tall slim figure was softly rounded; small pointed breasts, long shapely limbs, that dark shadow between her thighs, her own hands touching, teasing him.
She reached out then, brushing her hand over his face, tracing the contours of his mouth with soft fingertips. ‘I do love you,’ she murmured. And, in the heat of that moment, she did.
In an instant he was out of the bed and standing before her. ‘I want you out of here!’ he said in a rough voice. When she stretched up her arms and put the flat of her hands against his chest, he groaned, wrapping each of his hands about her wrists. In the semi-darkness her face was too familiar, her nakedness too close. He could feel the tips of her breasts beneath his ribs, gently rubbing, awakening dangerous feelings in him. Her hair was touching his arm, soft as rainwater. She was Ruby. She was not Ruby. Then she was. He loosened his grip on her wrists. She reached upwards. On tiptoe she wound her arms round the back of his neck and pressed his face down to hers. When their lips fused, it seemed to dissolve the anger in him. She pushed herself against his nakedness, moaning, sighing, touching him everywhere. Desire flooded through him. And a terrible fury. Ruby. Always Ruby! The fury unleashed a passion that stormed through him like a torrent.
‘Love me,’ groaned Teresa. He gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her away, propelling her back towards the timbered rail. He was hard, angry hard, wanting to hurt. Desperate to love. Ruby. Always Ruby!
He lifted her from the ground and bowed his head, kissing her neck, her face, her mouth, exciting her until she trembled from head to toe. He bent her backwards against the rail. Lowering his hands, he grasped her thighs, forcing them apart, forcing himself into her. She was panting, then groaning, then softly laughing, wanting too much of him. Clinging with all her might, she thrust herself upwards, raising her legs and wrapping her body right around his. She was frantic now, clawing at him. She wanted him deep inside her. The rail was hard against her back, he was hard against her front, and she would have turned herself inside out to be closer to him. When he drove into her again and again, she cried out with joy.