Elyse Mady (12 page)

“Miss Aspinall is to stay with us?” If Mrs. Lytton was surprised by the arrangements, she was too well trained to show it.

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “You will see to it that every courtesy is extended to her while she is my guest. I will leave the particulars in your capable hands, madam.”

The housekeeper nodded. “I’ll see to it directly, sir.”

If Hester regretted accepting his offer, she would not say so now. Whether she regretted his kiss was also something he could not know, but he was aware of the buzzing, heady feeling their embrace had engendered and knew that he would not soon forget it, no matter how strenuously his better sense insisted it ought not to have happened at all.

“I will leave you to your quiet,” he said and stepped out of the room, conscious all the while of Hester’s level regard.

Chapter Ten

Thomas’s demand to speak to the warden the next day was not warmly received. But the obvious expense of his dress combined with his implacable demeanour uprooted the Newgate gatesmen’s typical refusal, and he and Hester were led in short, if sullen, order, up to the keeper’s home.

The warden’s living quarters were on the second storey, above the front gates, overlooking the central yard. It was a modern place and built on a comfortable enough plan, if, of course, one was able to overlook its situation and its proximity to the prisoners its inhabitant oversaw.

They were shown into Mr. Newman’s parlour and bid wait.

Almost immediately, Hester sat in one of the high-backed chairs lined up at regular intervals around the walls. In her plain bib-front dress and dark straw bonnet, she disappeared almost completely against the wooden panels. Only her white fichu and her pale face appeared distinct, seeming to float unencumbered. It was a ghostly image, and her continued unmoving silence, her gloved hands folded neatly in her lap as she waited, was unsettling.

Gone was the passionate woman he had kissed yesterday, obliterating his good intentions in the face of her undeniable appeal. That bewitching creature, with her wide, flashing eyes and her lips grown plump from his attentions, was gone, and in her place, a constrained and constricted whey-and-water miss. He found it nearly impossible to reconcile the two. Which one was the real Hester?

And more importantly, why did it matter so much to him that he discover her true nature?

“Do not make yourself uneasy, Hest—Miss Aspinall.” It was ridiculous, knowing what had passed between them, but he found it difficult to call her by her Christian name. “We will secure your brother’s comfort. Have no doubt on that subject.”

From across the keeper’s parlour, she met his eyes for a moment. Then she dropped her gaze back to her gloves and said softly, “I have no doubts, sir.”

She hadn’t made any reference to what had passed between them yesterday and it was driving him to distraction. Over supper, she had asked that she might visit her brother today, if George might be spared. Thomas had offered himself as companion instead. She’d hesitated long enough for him to suspect that her brave words of the afternoon had been consumed by regret. Just when he’d given up all hope, she’d conceded, but her ambiguous expression frustrated him and gave him no clue as to her feelings.

It was too painful to look at her. There was so much he wanted to say and to ask her but he could not find the words. He stood instead and inspected the meagre offerings of the warden’s bookcase. A bible, a half-dozen sermons, a copy of Blackstone’s
Commentaries
and a battered folio of Shakespeare’s plays.

He slid the last from the shelf and leafed through it idly. The church bells nearby chimed the hour and he tapped his fingers in an impatient rhythm against the window sill, looking out into Old Bailey Street below. He had always felt constrained indoors. As a lad, he’d preferred to be outside, no matter how inclement the weather, over the drudgery of lessons. His choice of a life aboard ship meant he was rarely forced to endure long periods of internment. Only here, in London, in close quarters imposed by the great city, was he at odds with his own nature.

And waiting for Hester’s brother, knowing what had passed between them, at how easily they might have transgressed if not for Mrs. Lytton’s timely interruption, did not ease his mind.

Hester seemed happy to sit motionless, but a flicker of a smile crossed her face at his impatience. “I believe, sir, that you are feeling ‘cabin’d, cribb’d, confined.’ Will you not sit down? My brother will come. You will be out and about before you know it.”

Her apt quotation took him by surprise. “The Scottish play?”

“Indeed.” She said this with equanimity, only the needless smoothing of her gloves a sign of any inner turmoil.

“You are an admirer of Mr. Shakespeare’s?” he asked, aware of the incongruity of discussing their literary interests at a time such as this but unable to resist the possibility of learning more about her. He knew the feel of her face beneath his fingertips and the taste of her mouth on his tongue but almost nothing of her pursuits and her passions. She was a cipher, one he longed to decode.

“I had not thought a tailor’s sister—” He stopped, appalled at his unthinking admission. It was true that he had not considered often, if ever, the interests which a man such as his tenant would have enjoyed, and even less frequently that of his sister. Thomas’s misstep rendered his pride immediately grotesque and from the tightening of her fine mouth, Hester agreed.

“Robert is. He reads from them often. We both have our favourites,” she said. “My brother’s is
The Tempest.
For all he is a practical soul, I believe he envies Prospero his magic, at least a little.”

Thomas chuckled at this unexpected insight. “And yours?”

“As You Like It.”

A dispossessed duke. A valiant woman who must take on the mantel of masculine garb to protect her vulnerable and disbanded family against the injustices of usurpation and disharmony. Yes, he could see its appeal very easily.

“If it is performed this season, I will take you to see it. The bard’s plays are but shadows when they are read aloud. To appreciate them fully, one must see them on stage. I will take a box,” he promised rashly.

Her ease vanished at his offer. “Perhaps,” she equivocated. “Our lodgings in Great Wild Street were not far from the theatres, but I have never yet attended a performance. We should not set our hopes on it.” She looked away, making a protracted study of the meandering vine circumnavigating the thick carpet, although whether her embarrassment stemmed from her admission that she had never attended a play or from her dismissal of his offer he could not tell.

From the hall came the sound of heavy boots, the nailed soles striking sharply against the hard floors. The parlour door opened. Robert entered, followed by the warden and two turnkeys. Hester flew to her feet.

“Robert!” Her brother turned and caught sight of her. He opened his arms and she raced into them. He hugged her tightly, then tilted her face back to see the fading bruise. He winced, his manacled hands touching her injuries with gentle hands.

“It isn’t as a bad as it looks,” she reassured him.

Mr. Newman gestured to the chairs with a false bonhomie. “Why don’t you sit yourself down, Mr. Ramsay? Miss Aspinall?” He looked at Robert for a moment, clearly considering whether or not to invite him to sit too, but the risk of offending his prisoner’s supporter seemed to weigh in his favour. “And you, Aspinall. Sit.”

The keeper was a stout man, his ruddy colour and girth attesting to his fondness for both good drink and good food. His coat fit poorly across his shoulders, as though it had been cut for a slimmer man, and he was constantly tugging at his waistcoat in an unsuccessful attempt to make it concede.

Robert looked at Thomas and, with a pained expression, thanked him. “Your man has been very punctual in bringing me a basket. I am indebted to you for your kindness.”

“Think nothing of it.” Thomas was as uncomfortable at receiving his tenant’s gratitude as the latter was at expressing it.

“And what of the shop? I know there was violence done. When I am released, it will be my most urgent task to rebuild the custom I’ve lost through my incarceration.”

Lost in his reminiscences, Thomas caught only the end of the question and was unsure what reply would best disguise his woolgathering.

Hester was looking at him, her dark eyes wide and hesitant, as though unsure what information she should relay about the state of her brother’s business. Robert was still labouring under the misapprehension that his business was intact. Thomas decided that bluntness was required.

“Your shop cannot reopen at present, I’m afraid. Most of your stock has been taken by your creditors and what remains is of little value. I have set a guard, but I will be frank. Anger at your arrest runs high and the best course of action at present may be to do nothing at all.”

Robert grimaced. “Surely you exaggerate. A little banged up but—”

“There is nothing left to trade, brother.”

He swallowed, biting his lip hard at his sister’s assessment. After a moment, he recovered his composure. “I see. And the apprentices?”

“Samuel has taken his leave. Jeremy remained but there is no work for him. I will pay them both their wages and write letters of recommendation,” she said. There was no need to spell out the financial implications the destruction of the shop must entail for them both.

Robert took the news as well as could be expected. Straightening his spine, he said with bright reassurance, “Thank God, you are safely situated then. I had hoped your residence with the Charlesworths would be of short duration but now, seeing the scope of the matter, I see that it would be best for you, Hessie, to remain under the reverend’s care until I have defeated these charges.”

Thomas stiffened at the mention of the Hester’s removal. But before he could intercede, she spoke. “I will be remaining in Mr. Ramsay’s home for the duration.”

Her brother chuckled, as though she had told a very diverting joke. “She cannot possibly remain with you. You are a single man. My sister is unmarried.”

“I have offered Miss Aspinall lodgings in my home as long as she wishes to remain, sir.” Thomas ignored the gossipy surprise on Newman’s face as he confirmed the irregular arrangements. “You have my word as a gentleman that nothing untoward will happen to your sister whilst she is under my care.”

“You have plans to marry?”

Thomas froze. Marriage was the last thing on his mind. His lifestyle wasn’t conducive to it. “No, but—”

“Then I will not allow my sister to become the butt of speculation and insinuation.” Robert turned to Hester. “I am still your brother and while I am incarcerated, you must be protected. You will remove from Ramsay’s house without further argument.”

She paled a little at his sharp tone but spoke with admirable resolve. “I am sorry to distress you, but I will not do as you ask of me. It is impossible for me to live under the reverend’s roof. He has spoken of you in such vile terms as to convince me that he has no further regard for you. Have you seen aught of him since he visited on Tuesday past?”

The answer was clear in Robert’s scowl. “He could be detained.”

“He is not detained. He has repudiated you. And he is not the only one.” She reached into her pocket and drew out a small parcel. “Miss Stroud bid me give you this.”

Robert wouldn’t take it, and Thomas pitied him. What must it be like to discover that your friends were no friends at all and everything you had worked to build had been torn down in a moment of madness?

“The engagement is at an end,” Hester insisted, setting the parcel in Robert’s lap. “Stroud will have nothing to do with us. He certainly will not stand your bail. I am afraid that you must remain in prison until your trial. We cannot afford your liberty and a lawyer.”

“You will be ruined.” The words were hissed out between clenched teeth.

“And will I be any safer living in rooms on my own?”

“You are reckless,” he shouted, as her calmness enraged him. “Heedless. Impulsive. I had thought that Jamie’s death would have taught you—”

“Oy,” Newman bellowed, gesturing at the guards. They rushed forward and seized the prisoner, hauling him upright with rough hands. He struggled, and one of them struck him a punishing blow to the kidneys. Robert’s eyes rolled back in pain and the fight seemed to leach from him. He stared at his sister sullenly.

“Enough.” Hester’s words fairly vibrated with anger. She stood, her skirts wrapping round her ankles as she crossed the room to face her brother. “You will not hold that over me. I will not allow it.”

Thomas was riveted. Gone was the wan and uncertain woman, and in her place a strong confident Amazon, her verbal sheath of arrows at the ready. He did not know who Jamie was, but he had not been able to miss the anguish that had flashed across Hester’s face at his mention. But she had not allowed that to dissuade her.

“Jamie—”

“Is dead and gone, and while I have mourned his passing faithfully, he has no bearing on my decision now,” she said, her voice low and intent. “Robert. You must trust me to manage our affairs in your stead. You are a good man and you have discharged your duties as my eldest brother more times than I can count but now it is my turn to aid you. Will you let me?”

Robert, his arms pinned behind his back, looked torn. “You are my sister. I must protect you.”

“And you are my brother. Let me help you. Please.”

Thomas watched as the proud young man considered it. Hester never looked away from his face, and it was Robert who looked away first from her challenge.

Her brother looked between them, his brow darkening as he seemed to discern something of significance. “Is there something between you?” Robert asked the question slowly, as though still puzzling through the clues. “Something you are not telling me? Something you seek to hide?”

Thomas tried to deflect the question. “We are discussing your situation, sir.” He tried very hard not to remember the sensation of Hester’s mouth beneath his own and to keep his thoughts from his face. He doubted his success since his former tenant began to struggle against his captors once more.

It was Hester who broke the standoff, shouting over her brother’s cries. “Mr. Ramsay is a gentleman. He has done nothing to be ashamed of, nor have I,” she vowed. “You must see that it is your only choice now. Charlesworth has proven false. So have the Strouds. I will not. I give you my word on this.”

Newman rapped his fist against Robert’s face hard enough to knock his teeth together. Hester gasped but the keeper ignored her, crouching down to speak to Robert, who had been laid low by the guards.

“You will keep the peace or I’ll see you rot in the stocks, Aspinall.” It was a promise, not a threat. Robert nodded and at the keeper’s signal, he was hauled to his feet, swaying a little.

Hester was white to the lips. “Robert?”

He took a deep breath.