Heather noted that his speech was considerably better than his sister’s and she wondered if he had attended a school.
Aunt Fanny wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and snarled. “Pitt didn’t know what he was talking about when he said leave the French be. Now he’s up to his bloody neck with them and those Irish too. I say kill ‘em all!”
Heather bit her lip.
“The Irish! Ha! Pack of animals they are, if you ask me! They don’t know when they’re happy and well off!” Aunt Fanny continued.
“Pitt is trying to form a union with them now. Perhaps next year it will go through,” Uncle John said.
“Per’aps we’ll have our throats slit by the bloody lot of them, too!”
Heather glanced hesitantly to her uncle, uneasy as always with her aunt’s prejudice. John lowered his eyes and drained his ale in one breath. He sighed and cast a longing glance to the jug Fanny guarded, then set his mug upon the hearth and silently returned to his pipe.
“The Yankee’s the same! They’ll cut your throat rather than look at you. We’ll have them to fight again, mark my word.”
William chuckled, his jowls quivering with amusement. “It would do you no good to come to London then, dear sister, for they come into port as if they owned the place. A few get snatched for impressment, but they’re a careful lot and stay to themselves. When they venture into the city they go in numbers. They don’t like the idea of sailing on the British ships. Aye, they’re a careful lot and some have the audacity to think themselves gentlemen. Look at that fellow Washington, for instance. And now they have that other fool, Adams, whom they’ve elected as their king. It’s outrageous! But it won’t last. They’ll come back, whining like the dogs they are!”
Heather didn’t know any Yankees. She was simply glad that her aunt and Mr. Court were discussing them instead of the Irish.
She let her attention slide from the conversation. As long as they did not talk of London society or her ancestors she was not interested. If she dared speak up and declare her loyalty to them or ask if there was social news of London, she knew her aunt would descend on her viciously. As it was, her thoughts wandered elsewhere and she sat for what seemed an eternity.
Aunt Fanny brought Heather out of her shell; she reached across the table and maliciously pinched her arm. Heather jumped. She rubbed her arm, where a red welt was forming, and looked up at her aunt, blinking back tears of pain.
“I asked you if you wanted to teach at Lady Cabot’s finishing school. My brother thinks he may be able to find you work,” Aunt Fanny snapped.
Heather could hardly believe her ears. “What?”
William Court laughed and explained. “I’ve very good connections with the school, and I know they’re looking for a young lady of quality, and you do have excellent manners and good speech. You would, I believe, be perfect for the position, and I understand you also attended a school in London which will be of much help.” He dabbed at his massive lips before continuing. “Perhaps in the future I could arrange a suitable marriage for you with a prominent family in town. It would seem a shame to waste such ladylike grace on a farm yokel here. Of course, if I do arrange such a contract, it would mean supplying you with a substantial dowry which I’ll expect to be repaid when you have your man secure. It’s a slight trick, but could be profitable to each of us. You’re in want of a dowry, which I can supply, and I’d favor the interest on the loan which you can provide afterwards. No one need know of such an arrangement and I know you’re wise enough to obtain the money after you’re married. Would this position at Lady Cabot’s be acceptable to you?”
Heather was not sure about William Court’s marriage scheme, but—to get away from this farm, Aunt Fanny, her boring existence! To once again be near London society—it would be marvelous! If it weren’t for the stinging of her arm, she would think she was still dreaming.
“Speak up, child. What is your answer?” plied William.
Hardly able to suppress her glee, she did not hesitate further. “The offer is most kind of you, sir, and I’ll be happy to.”
William laughed again. “Good! Good! You’ll not regret your decision.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, we must journey to London tomorrow. I’ve been away from my business too long and I must get back to relieve my assistant. Do you think you can be ready, child?” He waved a lace handkerchief under his nose and dabbed once again at his thick lips.
“Oh, yes, sir. Whenever you choose to leave I’ll be ready,” she said happily.
“Good, good. It’s all settled then.”
Heather cleared the table and it was with a new feeling she did so, knowing it would be the last meal she would clean away in this cottage. She was too caught up in her happiness to bother making conversation with her aunt as the woman watched her, and when she was to herself behind her curtain she thought of all the delights of being free from Aunt Fanny. Any position in London would be superior to living under that woman’s thumb and taking her abuse. Heather would be free of the harsh words, the violent anger, and maybe, somewhere, there’d be someone who cared.
Little preparation was necessary for the next day’s journey for what she possessed was what she had worn that night and what she would wear again tomorrow. She slipped naked beneath the blanket on her cot. It was rough against her flesh and when the wind brought the chilled air of winter it failed to keep her sufficiently warm. She giggled with pleasure when she thought of not having to contend with it any longer. In less than a twelve month it would be a new century and she wondered what its years held for her now with this new chance to live and be happy.
The next afternoon they journeyed to London in William Court’s carriage and Heather found it a most enjoyable ride. The countryside along the way was green and lush in June. She had not noticed the same moors when she traveled to her uncle’s home two years before, but, now that she went south toward London, she thought it beyond comparison in its beauty.
Mr. Court proved a kind host and very attentive. She was able to talk with him at last about the current events of London society and she laughed gaily to hear his tales of the regency’s court. Once she glanced up to find him watching her with an intensity she could not fathom, but he quickly looked away. For a moment she had some slight qualms about going to London with him alone since, after all, he was not a legal guardian but a most distant cousin. The uneasiness soon faded and she mused that he was studying her for what future marriage contract he could arrange.
It was dark when they reached the outskirts of London. The ride had made Heather uncomfortably sore and weary from being bumped around and thrown against the side of the coach every time they hit a sink hole. She was greatly relieved when they arrived at the shop.
Within the place, silks, muslins, lawns, velvets and satins of all colors and textures were stacked high on tables and shelves. There was everything a woman could desire for the making of a stylish gown. Heather was amazed at the vast selection, and in her excitement hurriedly felt one cloth, carefully examined another and failed to notice a man sitting at a desk near the rear of the shop.
William Court laughed as he watched her move about the room. “You’ll have more time to examine everything later, my dear, but now you must meet my assistant, Mr. Thomas Hint.”
Heather turned and saw a strange little man who she instantly decided was the ugliest creature she had ever seen. Large, liquid eyes bulged from a round face and the nose was a short, flattened thing with flaring nostrils. His tongue continually flicked over thick, scarred lips, reminding her of lizards she had seen on the farm. His grotesque, hunchback figure was clothed in a rich, scarlet silk that was spotted, like his shirt, with food stains. When he smiled at her it was lop-sided, with one whole side of his face compressing into a tight, horrible smirk. She thought he would look better if he didn’t try to smile. In fact, she couldn’t see why William had him in the shop. She was positive he frightened more customers away than he attracted, and if he attracted anyone t
hey were persons whose minds were deranged.
As if in answer to her questioning thoughts, William Court spoke. “People are used to Thomas. We have a good trade here because they know we’re well skilled in our business. Is that not so, Thomas?”
He was answered with a non-committal grunt.
“Now, my dear,” William continued, “I want to show you my apartments upstairs. I believe you will be pleased.”
He led her toward the back of the shop, through a doorway hung with draperies and into a small room where a meager window gave off the only light. There was a stairway to one side and it led them to a dim little hallway with a single door leading from it. It was a massive wooden door, ornate compared to the dreariness of the hall. William smiled and opened it for her and Heather caught her breath in surprise at what lay behind it. The apartment was luxuriously furnished with pieces of Hepplewhite and Chippendale. A red velvet settee was grouped with two matching chairs upon a splendid Persian rug. Oil paintings and rich tapestries hung from light colored walls and a chandelier reflected prisms of light on red velvet draperies and their trim of gold braid and tassels. Fragile porcelain figurines were placed upon tables with candelabras of pewter, and toward the rear of the room was a place to dine. Every appointment had been carefully chosen and obviously no cost had been spared.
William opened another door within this room and stepped back to allow Heather to enter. Inside she found a large four-poster bed draped in royal blue velvet. A small commode was convenient to the bedside with a large candelabrum upon it and a bowl of fresh fruit. A silver-handled paring knife had been placed beside it.
“Oh, sir, it is elegant,” she breathed.
He took a pinch of snuff and smiled slowly as he watched her move toward a mirror standing near the bed. “I pamper myself with a few luxuries, my dear.”
If she had turned at that precise moment, Heather would have been aware of what he had taken care to conceal before. His desire for her was plainly visible in his eyes as they traveled down her slender body. He turned lest she swing round and find the lust within his gaze.
“You must be famished by now, Heather.”
He went to a wardrobe and flung open the doors. A vivid and wide assortment of lady’s gowns hung within and he searched among them until he found a beige gown of lace sewn with tiny sparkling beads and lined with a clinging flesh colored material. It was a gown of much cost and beauty.
“You may wear this for dinner, my dear,” he smiled. “It was made for a young girl your size but she never came back for it. I’ve often wondered why she failed to, seeing it’s one of the loveliest I’ve ever designed, but I suppose the girl found she couldn’t afford it after all.” He gazed at her from behind lowered eyelids. “It is her loss but your gain. It is my gift to you. Wear it tonight and you’ll please me greatly.”
He moved to the door and there turned again to her.
“I’ve sent Thomas to tell cook to fetch us dinner. It should be here shortly so I beg you not to keep your sweet company from me too long, if there are other articles of clothing you need, the wardrobe is at your disposal.”
Heather smiled hesitantly, holding the treasured gown to her as if unable to believe it belonged to her. When William closed the door behind him, she turned slowly to her image in the mirror, still clutching the dress to her.
During the years she had lived with her aunt, Heather had not looked upon her reflection except for glimpsing it in the piece of broken glass and in occasional pools of water. She had almost forgotten the way she looked. She was now as she had seen her mother in her portrait, the very image of her. Yet she was perplexed over why people thought and remembered Brenna as being beautiful. The tall pale blond beauties who visited court and whom she had read about in her girlhood had always seemed to her to be the very essence of loveliness, not small, dark-haired women who looked like herself.
Heather washed the day’s grime from her body and found a fresh chemise in the wardrobe. Donning it, she blushed at its indecent display of her body and felt more than a little wicked wearing it. It was of the softest batiste, transparent to the eye, and it completely revealed her body. Its low bodice barely covered her bosom. She was too accustomed to the childish garments of her younger years to be totally at ease in the chemise, yet she could not bear to even think of wearing her own badly frayed one under such a beautiful gown.
She smiled in amusement at herself.
Who will see me? Only my eyes will gaze upon this reckless creation, no one else’s.
She laughed at the nonsense of it and gaily set about to do her hair. She twisted, twirled, curled and pinned the glossy black tresses into a fashionable coiffure, pulling it up and away from her face. Instead of a plain coiled hair-do, she chose to catch it into a mass of soft ringlets that cascaded over each other down the back. Concentrating a moment over her artistry, she picked up the paring knife from the table and began to cut little wisps of hair in front of her ears until each had a soft curl dangling in front of it. With a smile of satisfaction, she thought of how her aunt would shriek in rage and call her loathsome names if she could but see her.
Very gently she touched her finger to the knife to test its edge, as she idly thought of her aunt. At once a drop of blood stained the blade. Grimacing and holding her finger to her mouth, she put the instrument down, commenting to herself that she would be careful in the future if she wanted any fruit sliced or peeled.
The beige gown caused as much surprise as the undergarment she wore beneath. Wearing it she no longer looked the young girl but the woman full grown. Indeed, her eighteenth birthday the following month would prove she was. But there was something else about the gown that made her seem strangely different. As the chemise, it barely concealed her bosom, and the lining gave the illusion she was without even that questionable undergarment. She looked the temptress, seductive, without innocence, a woman knowing her way among men instead of a maiden still untouched as she was.
William was waiting for her when she came from the bedroom. He had taken some time with his own appearance, changing his traveling garb for richer, more elegant clothes and curling short wisps of his thinning hair around his fat face, succeeding only in making it appear rounder.
“My dear sweet Heather, your loveliness does make my heart wish for younger years. I have heard tales of such great beauty as yours, but never, never have I seen it with my own eyes.”
Heather murmured a gracious comment before her attention slid to the food that had been brought. She sampled the tantalizing aromas that filled the air. The table had been set with crystal, china and silver and a feast lay on the sideboard. There she found roast game bird, wild rice, buttered shrimp, sweet pastries and candied fruits. A light wine was in a decanter conveniently placed at the head of the table.
William, at the moment, filled his eyes with other pleasures as he allowed his appraising gaze to sweep over Heather slowly, no longer attempting to hide his lust. His devouring stare remained momentarily upon the décolletage where the higher curves of her breasts swelled above the gown. His tongue passed over his thick lips as he surveyed those soft curves, impatiently anticipating the taste of that sweet, young flesh.
He held a chair for her near the head of the table and smiled. “Sit here, dear lady, and let me wait upon you.”
Heather complied and watched as he filled their plates.
“Cook is a bashful sort,” he commented, dipping a generous portion of rice upon his plate. “She delivers my food promptly at my command then hurries away before I barely catch a glimpse of her. She whisks everything away again with the same silent efficiency and I’ve hardly known she’s come. But as you will soon find out, she’s a most excellent chef de cuisine.”
They began the meal, and Heather was amazed at the amount of food the man consumed. She found herself wondering if he would be able to move when he finished. His bulging jaws continually worked to chew his food and as he devoured the delicious partridge and sweet tarts he lick
ed his greasy fingers and almost incessantly smacked his lips. Several times he gave a loud belch, startling her.
“When you begin at Lady Cabot’s, you’ll have great opportunities to meet some of the men from the wealthier class of people, and with your beauty it will not take you long to become the most sought after girl that ever entered that establishment.”
He laughed, peering glassy-eyed at her over his goblet.
“You are more than kind, sir,” she replied politely, though she thought the wine had made him a little daft. Few men visited ladies’ schools and those who did were usually well beyond marriageable age and had some business there.
“Yes,” he grinned tipsily. “But I expect to be paid well for my efforts.”
He looked at Heather hard now, but again she did not notice, watching instead the wine glass he held unsteadily in his hand. He spilled some of the drink down his waistcoat and some dribbled down his chin when he took a deep sip.
“You’ll find Lady Cabot’s quite a different place than you’ve ever known before,” he slurred. “The madame and I are partners and we take care that only the comeliest maids live behind its doors. We must be very particular, for it’s frequented by the very rich and they do have such high standards. But with you I think there’s a fortune to be had.”
Heather decided the poor man was too inebriated to know what he was rambling about. She stifled a yawn, feeling the effects of the wine herself, and longed to crawl into bed.
William laughed. “I fear I’ve exhausted you with my chatter, my dear. I had hoped you would not be too tired from our journey to permit us a long, friendly chat, but I see our conversation must continue tomorrow.” He put up a hand when she tried graciously to protest. “I’ll hear no arguments. You must go to bed. As a matter of fact, I’m beginning to feel in need of that favored spot myself. It would please me greatly to know you’re reclining upon those soft downy pillows.”
Heather more or less glided to her bedroom, the warmth of the wine relaxing every nerve, every limb. She heard William chuckling to himself as she closed the door behind her, and she leaned against it and laughed too, knowing all was changing in her life. She danced over to the mirror, feeling a little giddy, and bowed low before it.
The Flame and the Flower Page 2