Chapter 10
For just a few moments more, Charity could revel in the warmth of Hugo’s body pressed against hers, his overcoat shielding them both as they stood in a sheltered corner of the dockyard.
Then he’d weave his way amongst the throng of tearful well-wishers who crowded the quay and say the no-doubt gruff and loveless farewell that would see him part from his father.
Salty spray borne upon the stiff breeze mingled with the lightly falling snow.
“I will never forget you, Hugo,” she whispered into his waistcoat. “Even if I never see you again.”
The ground was covered in a blanket of white and the sky was already black, heavy clouds obscuring the stars.
“In two years, I will come back and claim you. One year, if I’m able. You must believe that, Charity.”
She believed the sentiment was as heartfelt as it sounded but she didn’t believe for one moment that Hugo would appear before her on a cold December day like this one and make good his claim.
“You must do what is best for you, Hugo, and if you meet someone who — ”
“No!” He shook his head, his tone fierce. “If I marry, I will marry you, Charity. You must believe it. I might have failed miserably to look after you as I should have done but when I come into my inheritance and am master of my finances, I will do whatever it takes to see you shine in a position that does you honour.”
He brought his mouth down in a kiss that was as branding as it was tender. Hugo was gentle but he was determined and he was full of fervour.
And so young. Yet what he lacked in age and experience, he made up for in so many other ways.
Reluctantly she stepped back. “You must go, my love. Your father is here. I see him looking for you.”
“Then let him see me with you. It might help reinforce the futility of his reasons for sending me away.” Hugo took her by the hand and led Charity into the open, just as his father turned in their direction. For a moment they locked glances, then Mr Adams looked away.
With a smile, Hugo brushed her cheek with his hand. “You are exquisite, Charity. I’m never prouder than when I have you by my side.” He bent for one final kiss and as Charity wound her arms about his neck she wondered how she’d ever have the strength to let him go.
But she did. And only after he’d started walking away did she let the tears fall.
For Hugo needed to meet his fate with all the fortitude of which he was capable.
It surely was the saddest Christmas she’d ever spent. How could she join in the singing with the other girls at Madame Chambon’s when the carollers stopped beneath their window? How could she smile at the pink-cheeked children who threw snowballs in the park?
Her heart felt like a cold and empty vessel.
When Maisie tapped on her door and told her that a Mr Adams desired her company, she was torn between bursting out with laughter at his impudence, or weeping at the irony. What would bring this man, of all men, to her threshold after all that had happened?
So, of course, she sent a message making clear how unwelcome he was.
She just hoped and prayed that Madame remained as committed as she had earlier indicated to ensuring Charity’s employment did not include crossing any unwelcome thresholds.
Of course, Charity didn’t care that her clothes were the cast-offs of Madame’s girls. Or that she’d be engaged in menial drudgery for much of her day. Madame had made it clear that as long as Charity worked hard for her keep, she’d not turn her out. Hugo had paid the brothel-keeper a sum that had made her happy. For now.
However, on the third day, her faith in Madame’s uncharacteristic fidelity to Charity’s forthcoming Happily Ever After suffered its first major blow.
First of all, a summons to Madame’s study was an event to strike fear into any of her girls.
“Mr Adams has paid us his third visit in three days,” Madame told her. She’d always been one to come straight to the point and as she stood behind her desk resembling a lamp post through her posture and lack of emotion and the gimlet look in Madame’s eyes, Charity felt her faith in Madame’s loyalty to her cause, crumble.
“I’m very glad he’s not come to see me,” Charity said, dropping her eyes to her scuffed boots, swallowing down her fear as the heat rose through her body. Fear. No, terror of why Madame had summoned her.
“Of course he’s here to see you, girl! He knows the position you’re in and he’ll keep coming back. He’s a persistent one.”
“I have nothing to offer him.” Charity raised her chin and sent Madame a warning. Didn’t they have an agreement? “Hugo left only three days ago.”
“And he might never come back. Oh, he’s left sufficient for your upkeep for a short while. I’m not about to send you into the jaws of this wolf, or any other, for that matter. But my dear girl, let me just remind you that money doesn’t last forever. It doesn’t grow on trees. Perhaps it might be as well to cultivate Mr Adams. He is a man of means, after all. And he’s made it clear that he intends to be very generous.”
Charity couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Cyril was the very reason Hugo has had to leave the country!” she burst out. “I loathe the man. I want nothing to do with him!” She clasped her hands to stop them shaking. “In fact, I will have nothing to do with him. Ever!”
For six weeks, Charity heard no more of Mr Cyril Adams. Until one evening, Madame summoned Charity once more and bade her take a seat opposite her impressive wooden desk in her study.
Coins and bills littered the table top and an overflowing pile of receipts spilled out of a silver box.
Yet despite her apparent carelessness with her wealth, Madame knew how much she was worth to the last penny.
“You have one week’s rent paid in advance and then you’ll need to start paying your way, like the other girls,” she said. “That is, unless your sweetheart follows through on his promise to send more my way. I’ve heard nothing from him. Have you?”
Charity swallowed with difficulty as she shook her head. “I hadn’t realised,” she whispered.
She slunk back to her room and looked through her wardrobe and her jewellery. When she accepted how little she could recover from her poor selection, she sat on her window seat and stared into the dark street.
In truth, she didn’t care about her poverty.
But her heart ached for Hugo and the fact she’d received only one letter from him, two days after he’d left. It was now mid-February and the weather was as cold and gloomy as ever. The days were getting a little longer but each day still felt like a grey prison.
Madame said she had one week left. What did she mean by that? She couldn’t force her to work for her as one of her girls. But if Charity refused, then she’d have to find another roof over her head.
Was her interview a veiled threat for the fact that beggars couldn’t be choosers? She knew she could make money from Charity.
And, as far as Madame was concerned, money was the only currency that had any meaning.
Charity drew her knees up to her chin and hugged herself closely. She’d held firm to the belief that Hugo would not let her down. Perhaps it had made her complacent.
Now she realised she’d have to make her own plans.
Finding alternative accommodation would have to be her first priority if Madame threw her out into the streets in a week. And it looked like she would, if Charity refused to entertain a paying guest.
But where to start looking? Rosetta had said she’d accompany Charity on her rounds but when the time came, she’d had too late a night to bear her company, so she said.
So, Charity went alone, ill-equipped to drive a bargain with a lodging house keeper. In fact, she was ill-equipped to do anything, she realised. Her whole life had been managed by others.
Halfway through the park on her way to an address that had been recommended to her she was horrified to be accosted by a familiar voice.
Turning, she found Cyril grinning at her as he blocked the entra
nce gate.
“How very fortuitous. Do you know how hard I’ve been trying to get an audience with you?”
“We have nothing to say to each other,” Charity said coldly. She wasn’t afraid of him out here, in the open.
“A little bird tells me you’re fast running out of money and looking for cheaper lodgings.”
“And no doubt you have a plan to help me? Except that I don’t entertain plans concocted by thieves and swindlers.”
Cyril smiled pleasantly. “I’d set you up, you know. Very happily, in fact. You have just the degree of fire I like in a girl. You put up a fight when you’re driven but you’re essentially a sweet little thing. Meek and mild and pleasing. You’re a beauty, too, of course. You’d have to be. I’m a man of discerning tastes.”
“And I’m a woman of discerning tastes which is why I wouldn’t deal with you if you were the last man alive. I’d sell the clothes off my back before I had to spend a single minute in your company.”
He laughed. “I do like the image that conjures up.” Then, glancing at the ring on her right hand. “That’s worth a pretty penny. Sell that for a month’s board and lodging and when your time is up I’ll come knocking.”
Charity stared at the ring and shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Not for any price? Surely Hugo would rather you sold the tokens of his regard rather than your body.”
Charity jerked her head up. “My father gave it to my mother and I’m not selling it.”
Cyril raised his eyebrows. “Ah yes, you did mention he was a man of means and good breeding. Discerning taste, too, it would appear. Forgive me if I remain sceptical. He’s a figment of your imagination otherwise you’d petition him, wouldn’t you?” He paused. “That is, if you knew who he was.”
A spurt of anger quickly turned to indignation. Charity knew she shouldn’t engage him. “Of course I do!”
“And does he know who you are?” Cyril sent her a narrowed eyed look that made Charity’s ears burn.
She shook her head. “I’m not about to sink my pride and go to him again. A girl from a brothel? Do you think he’d want anything to do with me, now? He certainly didn’t when I was a child.” She shrugged. “And while I’d rather not have to sell my ring, I’d do that before I let you touch me. Why, I’d rather sleep with a snake!”
“Harsh. Very harsh. I’m surprised Hugo fell for you with a tongue like that.”
Charity sucked in a quick breath. His mention of Hugo was like a whip of pain and disappointment. “Hugo was nothing but kind and gentle with me. I never had cause to speak to him as I do to you.”
Cyril nodded. “Yes, most interesting. The way you and my cousin dealt with one another, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “The letters that were in the reticule you dropped in my drawing room were a lesson in humility. For me, that is. Tender and loving. I’d never seen sentiments like it between two people. Which is why I thought I could do with a bit of help in my own plans to court a certain young lady. One who would, I’m sure, be far more responsive to the kinds of sweet nothings you and Hugo bandied about with such carelessness.” He looked thoughtful. “She certainly didn’t exhibit the aversion towards me that conjures up comparisons with disgusting reptiles. I believe I have a chance.” Cyril looked pleased with himself. “A few pretty notes would go a long way, I think.”
“You can write your own letters.” Charity started walking to the gate, even though it meant passing him. Her heart beat harder but he could hardly force her into anything against her wishes, out here in the open. “I’m not doing anything for you,” she said over her shoulder, “and I certainly wouldn’t want this poor, unsuspecting young lady to think you better than you are. It would be deceitful.”
Cyril followed her, arresting her with a hand on her arm.
Charity turned, making no secret of her disgust.
“Think of it as putting me in my place,” Cyril laughed. “Wouldn’t you love to give me a lesson in humility? Maybe you could make me a better man. After all, how am I supposed to know the kinds of sentiments that come from a good and generous heart when no one has ever shown me?”
Charity shrugged. “I don’t think all the teaching in the world can help you with that.” She put out her hand. “But I would like my letters back, thank you. They belong to me.”
Cyril bowed. “I shall deliver them tonight.”
“And I shall have Rosetta accept them on my behalf.”
Six days later, Madame again summoned Charity to her study and Charity went, hoping against hope it meant that Hugo had managed to get a letter sent with even some small means of maintenance that would satisfy Madame for now.
“Emily says you’ve been looking for alternative accommodation?”
“It went no further than that, Madame. I was hoping…” She tried again. “I thought perhaps Hugo might have sent something.”
Madame shook her head. “I’ve received nothing. However, that doesn’t mean correspondence and succour hasn’t been delayed.” Her tone gentled. “I don’t believe he has forsaken you, Charity. But practicalities must be attended to. Hugo’s cousin, Mr Cyril Adams, is here. Now, I am well aware of your feelings towards him but he says he has received news from his father. He thought perhaps you might be interested in seeing him.”
“Madame!” Charity stared wildly around the room, then down at her threadbare blue dress.
“You can borrow something finer,” said her employer as if that were a matter of concern, but Charity shook her head.
“I’m not entertaining this Mr Adams or...anyone else. I’ll leave if I have to. If you want me to. But Madame, I have three days remaining here.” Since her last terrifying encounter with Madame she’d made sure to work out how far her rent would last — to the last minute. Madame would know it, too.
“Which is why you’d do well to speak to Mr Adams and find out what his father has to report. His father is with your young man, after all. I thought you’d be only too eager to hear what he has to say.
Of course she did. But not when he’d find other ways to put Charity at a disadvantage. “Tell him to come back when...I have gathered my wits. I have questions, yes, but I’m not yet ready to see him.” Charity thought of what she must achieve in the interim so that he would be under no illusions that he could pressure her. She needed a plan that would see her safe and secure. So that regardless of what Cyril offered her or however much he coerced her, she could refuse. Yes, in the morning, she’d find a lodging house or work as a milliner. There must be something she could do that would bring in a little money. Just for as long as it took Hugo to send something. She knew Hugo would be true to his word. It was possible he might not come home to her in two years’ time but she did believe three months was too soon for him to have given her up.
Madame came round from the desk and ran her fingers through Charity’s hair as she slowly circled her. “You could be one of my most popular girls, Charity. You have the looks and bearing. I’ve had interest you know. Not just from Mr Adams. Mr Cyril Adams,” she amended, her tone thoughtful. Slowly she contoured Charity’s bare arms from the wrists up to her decolletage. Charity held her breath. It was just what Madame had done the first night Charity had arrived on her doorstep, late at night, having been sent by, as it transpired, a procuress Charity had met on the coach during the last leg of her long journey from Dorset.
Barely eighteen, Charity had ceased to be useful when her aunt had succumbed to her various maladies and her grandmother had taken in a fourteen-year-old distant relative to look after her in her old age. She’d said it was time for Charity to make her own way in the world.
Little did Charity know what was in store for her when she’d arrived, friendless, in the vast city. She’d thought she’d found a safe haven at Madame’s.
Madame was speaking again, Charity realised. But in the brisk tone she usually did. She sounded distant, her thoughts far removed from Charity’s concerns, it seemed. “My daughter arrives tonight from France where
she has been educated most of her life.”
“Oh!”
“You did not know I had a daughter?” Madame smiled. “I haven’t seen her in many years. It’s true I’ve missed her but this was no place for her to grow up. Not when I have such plans for her. I’ve provided well for her and she is a beauty with her rich, auburn hair and her creamy skin.” Madame’s hands were stroking Charity’s neck. “I’ve become fond of you, Charity, since you’ve been here. You’ve touched me with your innocence, reminding me what it must be like to have such faith in the goodness of others. Of that one important person. I’d have liked my Arabella to be soft and innocent like you but she’s not. She’s proud. She doesn’t want to be here, of course. Doesn’t want to see her mother, and that pains me.” She took a hank of Charity’s long, loose hair in each hand and drew it away from her head, assessing Charity as if she were an object.
Then she sighed. “But you’re not fiery and proud. You want to stay here, in the only home you’ve known since you’ve been in London. I’ve always prided myself on putting business considerations above all else but I will allow you some latitude, my dear. I, too, like to believe Hugo will return to claim you and his inheritance. I, too, like to believe that his next payment for your upkeep is only days away. If it’s not, I’ll grant you a week’s extension. But that is all. For you have great potential.” She smiled at Charity as if she truly were fond of her. “If Hugo comes back, he will want you, regardless of what you have had to do. For though he is a dreamer now, he must understand the practicalities of life. He will understand that a girl has to live.”
Charity lay curled up on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Come in,” she said dully, in response to the knock on the door. She needed whatever crumbs of friendship Emily or Rosetta could offer her right now.
But instead, Cyril stood upon the threshold.
Once Upon a Christmas Wedding Page 154