A Daughter's Secret (10 page)

Aggie badly needed the drink because, as the memories returned, the shame crept in and she didn’t know how she would be able to look Levingstone in the eyes. She felt so degraded and dirty, and she needed to make those memories hazy so that they could be pushed to the back of her mind. The tincture also got rid of the pounding
headache and she had to fight the desire to ask for another. After a few minutes she felt well enough to get up. Mary brought her a jug of hot water to pour into the basin already there and with the most beautifully scented soap, Aggie lost no time in washing herself and drying herself on the soft fluffy towels, amazed at how much better she felt after that.

When Levingstone came in a little later, she was glowing from the invigorating wash, but he knew from her slightly glazed eyes that she had taken opium. He wasn’t surprised. He knew that the previous night had been her first true sexual encounter and maybe she had needed some help coping with that when she remembered it this morning. And yet when he held his arms out, she went straight into them and snuggled against him.

He so desired her at that moment that he almost took her again, there and then, as she had shown him plainly that she was willing, but he had further delights in store for her first and so he dampened down his ardour and whispered his plans for the morning in her ear.

‘Clothes!’ she cried in delight. ‘You are going to buy me clothes?’

‘Yes, pretty things for you to wear in the club.’

Aggie eyes clouded. ‘Am I to go down to the club then?’

‘Not yet,’ Levingstone told her. ‘For the moment I want you to please just me. Think you can do that?’

‘I will do my best,’ Aggie said, mightily relieved that the ordeal of meeting other men who would take her to bed and do unmentionable things to her was to be deferred.

‘Can’t ask for fairer than that,’ Levingstone said, and Aggie smiled at him.

He had been so considerate of her nervousness and so gentle the previous night that any memory of McAllister’s clumsy fumbling and savagery in his haste to satisfy his own need had fled from her mind. If she was honest she had enjoyed sex with Levingstone very much. She knew, though, it wouldn’t be like that with every man and if some encounters reminded her of the rape, then that was a problem she would have to deal with on her own.

‘But I can’t be selfish indefinitely,’ Levingstone said. ‘Later, when you are ready and I am agreeable, after you have danced for the men’s entertainment, they will want you to change and join them for drinks. You will need the right clothes for that, and we must get you the proper clothes for dancing too. I have been making enquiries and there is a dressmaker in Wellington Road who makes dancing dresses.’

‘I have never had the right clothes,’ Aggie said. ‘We wore what we had. There was no spare money for anything else.’

‘Well, money is no object to me, so as soon as you are ready we will set off.’

* * *

Aggie could scarcely believe the type of clothes that Levingstone bought her.

He considered her one of the most bewitching girls he had ever met – and he had been involved with a fair few – so it pleased him to see her decently clad. He bought her such beautiful soft undergarments, as well as nightgowns of silk trimmed with lace and satin ribbons, that she was speechless with pleasure. Seeing her open-mouthed amazement amused Levingstone, and he only waited until the shop assistant was wrapping the nightclothes before whispering in her ear, ‘Those are a bit of a waste really, I suppose. I like my women naked in bed. Clothes get in the way of real honest-to-goodness sex, and I don’t like anything to get in the way of sex.’

Aggie felt mortified with shame for Levingstone using such words, and in a public place too. She was glad the assistant was not yet back with the parcels. But when she did return, ‘Aren’t you the lucky girl then?’ she said to Aggie with a knowing, almost sneering look.

Aggie didn’t answer and when they were in the carriage she said to Levingstone, ‘Does that shop assistant know who I am, or is it what I am?’

‘What are you?’

‘Well, I suppose I am a prostitute.’

‘Not yet you’re not,’ Levingstone said. ‘You are my fancy piece, if you like – my kept woman.’

‘And she would know that?’

‘I’d say she would have a fair idea.’

‘How would she know just by looking at me?’ Aggie demanded. ‘I mean, I haven’t got it stamped on my forehead.’

‘My dear,’ Levingstone said, ‘the woman knows me and knows the business I am in.’

‘I am not the first girl you have taken there, am I?’ Aggie asked.

Levingstone laughed. ‘Of course not, my dear. I am not a monk.’

Aggie was unaccountably disturbed about this, although she told herself she had no right to be.

The droop of her mouth irritated Levingstone and he said testily, ‘Why the long face? Be careful, my dear, for I can’t bear a woman who sulks. And when you consider what I have bought you this morning, you have no need to feel hard done by.’

‘I know, I’m sorry,’ Aggie said, truly contrite that she had upset Levingstone, who had been so kind to her.

‘I should think so,’ Levingstone said. ‘I have taken a great many young women to that shop and others like it, and bought them clothes, as I have you today. You don’t need to know this, but I will tell you anyway: I have never bought so many for one person, or taken so much pleasure from it, but that is as far as it goes.’

Aggie knew then Levingstone was saying she was perhaps special to him at the moment, but there would be no permanence there; that she was just one in a long line of many. She could have felt unhappy about this, but she reminded herself
that Levingstone didn’t like to see sad faces and so she thought of all the nice clothes and that brought a smile to her face. ‘I do understand,’ she said, ‘and I am so grateful for all you have bought me today.’

Levingstone gave a grunt of satisfaction and then said, ‘And it is not over for now we are off to the dressmaker for dance dresses for you.’

‘I know,’ Aggie said. ‘I can’t tell you how excited I am about that.’

Levingstone’s good humour was fully restored and he said, ‘Your eyes speak for you, my dear. You are incredibly beautiful, you know, and when you blush like that you are lovelier than ever. Get used to compliments, for you will get many as you get older.’

‘I think I might need some time to do that,’ Aggie said, ‘because for fifteen years I was not encouraged to think of my appearance at all. It will probably take me time to adjust so totally. If my mother ever caught me looking in the mirror she said I was vain.’

Levingstone smiled. ‘You have something to be vain about,’ he said. ‘When I do take you down to the club I will have to take great care of you, or they will be at you like devouring wolves and, for the time being, you belong totally to me.’

‘And that,’ said Aggie, ‘is how I like it.’

She did mean that. If she had to live this kind of life, she would rather live with Levingstone and let him have sex with her whenever he wanted
than be forced to lie with any Tom, Dick or Harry at the club.

‘Good,’ Levingstone said with a broad smile as the cab drew to a halt in front of a house in a tree-lined road. ‘Now let’s see about the making of these dresses…’

The woman who answered the door was dumpy, with a heavily lined face and grey hair scraped back in a bun. However, her blue eyes were as bright as buttons and her smile was so welcoming it nearly split her face in two. She introduced herself as Eileen Flaherty, originally from County Mayo. Aggie felt herself relax and let the familiar accent wash over her. Levingstone introduced her as his ward, Agnes, who had just come over from Ireland, and Aggie let out her breath in a silent sigh of relief.

‘The dresses are all made to measure,’ Eileen said, ‘and I have the bolts of cloth in the other room, if you would like to follow me.’

They did, and Aggie looked around the sewing room with interest. Rolls of cloth stood against one wall and a treadle sewing machine against another, and on the shelf under the window there were boxes full of pins, buttons, brooches, ribbon strips, needles and sewing cottons and silks, while a tailor’s dummy stood in the middle of the room.

‘We do three colours for Irish dance dresses,’ Eileen said, ‘and that is the saffron here, or the green or the white.’ She crossed the room and pointed to the rolls.

‘What do you think, Agnes?’ Levingstone asked.

His use of her full name made Aggie feel uneasy, as it was the name McAllister had used. She didn’t know what to say. Her opinion had seldom been asked, and certainly not concerning clothes. Even the new things Levingstone had bought earlier that day he had selected, and so she said, ‘Um, I don’t know really.’

‘Well, the white is very nice, don’t you think?’ Levingstone asked Mrs Flaherty. ‘Don’t you think it will go nicely with Agnes’s colouring?’

‘I do indeed,’ Mrs Flaherty agreed. Then, turning to Aggie, she added, ‘Suit you a treat, dear. White is very popular amongst the young ladies.’

‘On the other hand, white can be a bit wishy-washy,’ Levingstone went on. ‘Saffron, now, is a vibrant colour.’

‘Yes, and just as suitable with the young lady’s dark hair.’

‘Tell you what,’ Levingstone said suddenly. ‘Make up two, one in yellow and one white.’

Eileen Flaherty had never heard of such a thing before and she stared at him. ‘Two, sir? Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure,’ Levingstone said. ‘Now is there any decoration on these dresses?’

‘Oh, yes, sir,’ Mrs Flaherty said. ‘The dresses are made up with a shawl fastened with a brooch on the shoulder. I have a selection of brooches here and each one is decorated with designs from the Book of Kells, which is a very old Bible, illustrated beautifully by the monks. When the young miss
has chosen what design she wants I will embroider the dresses to match either around the neckline, or the hem, or both if she wishes it.’

‘That sounds very satisfactory.’

‘Now while Agnes is choosing her designs and she is being measured, can I interest you in a glass of wine in the other room?’ Mrs Flaherty said. Levingstone agreed, and Aggie busied herself searching through the brooches.

Eileen Flaherty had a healthy interest in people, and was terribly curious about Levingstone and Aggie. As she was laying out the brooches she asked the girl, ‘Is he very rich, your guardian?’

Aggie knew she had to be careful what she said, but she couldn’t not answer. ‘Think so,’ she replied. I think he owns clubs and things like that. I don’t know that much about him. As he said, I have only recently come over from Ireland.’

‘Did you lose your parents, dear?’

Aggie remembered what Lily had told her about her own parents. ‘Yes, they had typhoid,’ she said.

‘I am so sorry, dear,’ Mrs Flaherty said sympathetically. ‘Such a tragedy for you. What good fortune you have such a well-to-do guardian.’

Aggie hid her smile as she agreed and wondered what this respectable woman would do if she were to blurt the truth out to her.

She didn’t, of course, and with the brooches chosen she removed her dress and the shift beneath it so that Mrs Flaherty could measure her. She was surprised to be measured only to the knee.

‘That’s where the hem is,’ Mrs Flaherty said when Aggie queried this.

Aggie was surprised. She trusted that Mrs Flaherty knew what she was talking about and yet she had never worn anything so short. Her own skirts reached the top of the ugly boots she had arrived in from Ireland. Thinking about that, though, as she dressed herself again, put her in mind of the beautiful boots Levingstone had bought her a little earlier. They were black, of the softest leather and fastened with little buttons – quite the nicest footwear she had ever owned.

As if she knew she was thinking of footwear, Mrs Flaherty said, ‘If you are ready, we will talk about dancing shoes.’

‘I never owned dancing shoes of any description,’ Aggie was saying as Mrs Flaherty showed her into the other room.

‘So what did you dance in?’

‘Bare feet mainly.’

‘So what about the dances that need hard shoes?’

‘Well, that was mainly hornpipes,’ Aggie said, ‘and we tended not to do many of them because we used our ordinary shoes or boots and it just wasn’t the same without the tap. For most of the jigs and reels, soft shoes are needed anyway and bare feet sufficed there.’

‘So there is a whole area of Irish dance that you haven’t explored?’ Levingstone said.

Aggie shrugged. ‘Well, yes, but all the girls in my home town were in the same boat.’

‘Well, it isn’t the case now,’ Levingstone said. ‘I want Aggie to have the works, hard shoes and soft shoes and anything else she needs.’

‘Well, I have a collection of shoes here, and going by the size of her boots I am certain that I can get her fitted up with all she requires,’ Mrs Flaherty said. ‘Then at least she can keep practising while she is waiting for the dresses to be made up.’ She turned to Aggie. ‘Are you thinking of entering for competitions, my dear?’

Aggie didn’t know how to answer this and was glad Levingstone jumped in before her slight hesitation could be noticed. ‘That’s the sort of thing we had in mind,’ he said. ‘And she has to look the part.’

‘Oh, yes, indeed she does.’

It was as they were going home in the cab, Aggie clutching the bag containing the shoes and the regulation black stockings, that Levingstone struck terror into her heart when he said, ‘I am going to arrange a dancing teacher for you.’

Unbidden, there came into Aggie’s mind McAllister’s lust-filled face that night the previous December as he thrust himself inside her time after time. She felt suddenly sick and so, without thinking, she looked Levingstone full in the face and said, ‘Oh no you’re not.’

Levingstone was amazed, and he said with a grim and humourless laugh, ‘You, my dear, are in no position to tell me what to do.’

Aggie was flustered. ‘Oh, I know, and I am sorry but I really don’t want a dancing teacher.’

‘Aggie, by your own admission you have done virtually no work on the dances requiring hard shoes. People are going to pay good money to see you dance and your repertoire has to be as extensive as possible.’