Her Saving Grace (17 page)

“You didn’t enjoy it?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice even. She didn’t really understand the desire she had to cry; it had just been a kiss, after all.

“On the contrary, I enjoyed it very much but you are a respectable woman and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

She felt a little better at those words, but still confused by the myriad of feelings which he seemed to have awoken in her.

“You didn’t,” she assured him.

“I’d feel better if you could look at me as you said that.”

She did look at him and her heart skipped a beat at the warm expression on his fa
ce, so she quickly looked away and an uncomfortable silence reigned for a time.

“What will become of those women?” she wondered idly.

“Most will move onto another brothel,” he said, sounding sad.

“But it’s such a wretched existence.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I have a friend who has a home for ladies of the night; he rehabilitates them, teaches them skills and tries to find them new employment, but few women seem interested. I’ll write to him nonetheless, perhaps he can do something for these women.”

She lapse
d into silence again after that, until they arrived at the doctor’s house. Mrs Hyde showed them in and they found the doctor washing blood off his hands in the sink.

“Your timing couldn’t be better,” he greeted them as he dried his hands. “I could find no other cause for O’Grady’s excessive bleeding so for the moment, poisoning with pennyroyal seems the most logical cause o
f death, as unlikely as it may seem.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Nate said.

“Assuming no one else dies overnight, I should be able to complete my examination of Smyth tomorrow. Would you like to come by for my results?”

“That won’t be necessary, just send your finding
s to my home by messenger, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all. I suspect my finding
s won’t be earthshattering.”

It had been a long day for all of them
so they thanked the doctor and left.

When they got home, Nathaniel’s mother and sister were in their rooms, getting ready for dinner. Damaris didn’t
normally worry too much about dressing for dinner but since she was in someone else’s house, she would change her dress as a sign of respect. She would keep her simple bun however, as she viewed the elaborate hairstyles most women sported as a waste of time.

Once in her room, she took a seat by the fire and stared into its depths, even although there was no fire lit at the moment. She was disturbed after a few minutes by a servant bringing her tea and cake.

“Master said you hadn’t eaten since breakfast,” the housemaid explained. “He thought you might want something to tide you over.”

His thoughtful gesture cheered her but she still couldn’t fathom how to feel about recent events. After drinking her tea and eating
just a little of the cake as she didn’t want to spoil her dinner, she picked up her sketch pad and began a pencil drawing.

***

Nathaniel was thoroughly confused by Damaris and her attitude. The kiss that they had shared in the kitchen had been filled with affection and passion but ever since then, she had been cold and withdrawn, almost as if she was angry with him.

She hadn’t seemed angry at the time, in fact she seemed to welcome his attentions, so this about-face was puzzling. Just as he thought that he understood her, she did something new to perplex him.

It seemed clear to him that his feelings for her went far beyond friendship and each minute that he shared with her, those feelings grew. He had always thought that falling in love would be a good thing, something to be welcomed and encouraged. Falling for a woman like Damaris however, felt like a sure way to get his heart broken.

Damaris had no interest in love or relationships, she seemed determined to remain alone and given her history, he couldn’t blame her for protecting her heart
in that way. If he was a smarter man, he would probably be doing the same and keeping her at arm’s length, but how could he? Being with her was so much better than not being with her and if heartbreak was the price he paid, then so be it.

Damaris was still quiet all through
dinner that evening and soon after they had moved to the drawing room, he excused himself. He headed to the library and chose a sheaf of the papers from Damaris’ chest, which he took to his bedroom with him. Once changed for bed, and with a brandy in hand, he dismissed his valet for the rest of the night and sat at his writing desk to read the documents.

He was unable to
fully concentrate on them however, since his head seemed so full of Damaris. He had been sitting there for over an hour, when a soft tap on his door disturbed him.

“Come in,” he called, turning to the door, which was slow to open.

He was about to repeat himself, when the door swung inwards and Damaris came in. She was dressed in her nightgown, her dark hair loose and hanging down her back.

“Are you alright?” he asked, getting to his feet, for only a g
rave emergency could send a woman into his bed chamber in her nightclothes.

“Why did you flirt with those women?” she asked, taking him completely by surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“The ladies in the Cock and Bull, you flirted with them.
”

He crossed to her and
closed the door, lest they be seen by a passer-by, and tried to think back to earlier so that he could answer her question.

“
I wanted information from them and I thought that a little charm would help them to open up; more flies with honey than vinegar, remember?”

“Why don’t you do that with me?”

He closed the gap between them and took her hand, kissing her knuckles.

“Because even after such a short time, I have come to care for you, Mari
, and I want you to care for me too.” He still held her hand and his thumb was gently stroking the back of it.

“Then why-”

“Because I want you to like me for who I am. I don’t want to win your affection because I paid you false attention, I want you to look at me, the real me, and see someone that you can respect and… perhaps even, love.”

His words seemed to cause her pain and she pulled her hand from his grip and turned her back,
crossing her arms defensively over her chest as she moved to stand by the grand four-poster bed, which dominated the large room.

“I do respect you,” she said, her voice
thick with emotion. “And I do care for you, but I cannot love you, Nate.”

He stepped up behind her.
“Then why are you here?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “There is an attraction between us
and it troubles me. I thought that perhaps the best way to get rid of those feelings, was to act upon them but now, I’m worried that perhaps you don’t feel the same way.”

With
out thinking, his arms encircled her waist and he pulled her against him. He thought that she might resist but after a few moments, she relaxed, leaning her head back onto his shoulder.

“I do want you,” he admitted, placing a kiss on her shoulder. “So badly that sometimes I almost ache to touch you… but not like this.”

She turned in his arms and looked up at him, her expression hurt and confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I won’t b
e used to scratch an itch, Mari,” he said tenderly as he pushed strands of her long hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. “When we do share a bed, I want us to make love, not just have sex.”

She looked pained. “But I can't love you, Nate. I’m sorry but I just can't.”

“Can't or won’t?” he asked kindly.

“Can't
. My heart was broken long ago; I’m incapable of loving anyone now.”

“I think that’s more a case of wishful thinking than truth,” he said.
“Love is beyond the reach of even the most fearsome intellect, even yours. Love just is, and not even you can refuse it.”

“I
can,” she said, so softly that he barely heard. “I have to.”

She began to cry then,
and he moved her until they were sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her to him and stroking her hair while she cried.

When her tears began to slow, she moved away and wiped at her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to come here and bawl all over you.”

He knew why she had come, to use him for some no-strings sex. Had it been anyone other than her, he might have even accepted the offer but
Damaris only wanted his body, while he wanted her heart and mind as well.

Wh
at he had with her was special and needed nurturing.

“It’s all right,” he assure
d her. “You can lean on me whenever you need to.”

She glanced into his eyes but quickly looked away.
“Until you aren’t there any longer.”

“Oh, Mari.” He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her against him again. “I can't claim to know how you feel but I think I understand why you’re so frightened of love. I wish that there was some way for me to assure you that I’ll be around forever, but we both know you’ll see through such platitudes.”

“My father used to read me fairy tales,” she told him. “I loved those stories and even read them as I got older. They appear in almost all languages, you know, variations on the same themes.”

“When did you stop reading them?” he asked.

“After Thomas… well, a few years ago.”

“There’s nothing wrong with believing in
fairy tales, you know.”

“Except that
they don’t come true. Even if you find Prince Charming, there is no happily ever after.”

“I’m not denying that life is hard but perhaps that’s why we need them,” he suggested. “Perhaps if we can't
at least hope for a happy ending, we’ll never get one.”

“A self-fulfilling
prophecy.” She was silent for a few moments then she sat up. “Well, I suppose I should be returning to my room.”

“You can stay here,” he offered. She seemed so vulnerable that he didn’t want her to be alone.

“You mean you do want me?” Hope blossomed in her eyes and he felt bad as he leaned over and placed a gentle, chaste kiss against her lips.

“I want you,” he assured her, wishing that he didn’t have to finish the thought. “But
I’m selfish, Mari, I want all of you.”

“All or nothing?” she asked.

“Something like that. For now though, I’m happy to just be your friend, so stay, just to sleep.”

She looked to his door, as if
her propriety and her desire were warring with each other. He knew that she didn’t much care for the rules of Society, but she probably wouldn’t want to be caught red handed in his bed, no matter how innocent the encounter.

“When she was younger, Annabelle hated thunderstorms. Our nanny and governess wouldn’t let her sleep with them though and after she’d
gone to my parents a few times, the governess made sure that the door to our wing was locked each night, so she climbed in with me.”

Granted, he wanted to do things with Damaris that had never entered his head to do with his sister, but the point was the same.

“There’s no weakness in accepting comfort, Mari. Let me be here for you?”

Finally she looked back to him and nodded.

He was proud of her bravery. She probably thought that staying with him was the cowardly thing to do, because although she didn’t want to be alone, to someone like Damaris, who had lost so much, staying with him was a sign of trust and perhaps, the first step to admitting that she had feelings for him.

He quickly turned the bed down for her, then went around the other side and climbed in himself. She k
ept her distance from him but faced the centre of the bed.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She shook her head, so he leaned over, kissed her forehead, then took her hand as he withdrew to his own side.

Something told him that the next time he opened his eyes, she would be gone but
he hoped that holding her hand might act as some kind of anchor, at least alerting him when she left.

“Good night,” she told him.

“Sleep tight,” he smiled.

As he closed his eyes, he noticed that she had a small smile on her lips. He hoped that it
was still there in the morning; he would look forward to seeing it.

Damaris lay with her head propped up on her hand, watching
as Nathaniel slept; he looked so peaceful that she felt she could watch him forever.

She looked to their joined hands and marvelled that neither one of them had pulled away in the night.

He was such an unusual man and she didn’t quite know what to make of him. When they had first met, he had treated her as many men had, dismissing her as if she were nothing. Since then however, he had been good to her.

It was clear to her that while he respected her intellect, there were many things that he could do and she couldn’t. His way with other people
, for instance and his easy charm. She could improve her disposition, she knew, she hadn’t been so sharp when she was younger but years of keeping to herself, combined with a naturally short tolerance for witlessness, meant that she wasn’t as inclined to put up with the failings of those around her, as she might once have been. She had no desire to pander to people who dismissed her as only a woman, or who belittled her intelligence.

Even if she did make an effort to appear more affable to those around her though, she just didn’t have the insight into human nature that Nathaniel appeared to. He seemed to have a natural intuition that allowed him to get anyone to trust him and although she was loathe to admit it,
the trait perfectly complimented her intellect.

Damaris hadn’t been inclined to dwell on her failings in recent years
, because looking inward meant facing her grief, and she simply couldn’t do that. Her father had been an encouraging man but he never gave praise where it wasn’t due, so she wasn’t completely without insight into her character. As such, she knew that she had character flaws, and that she had only allowed those flaws to grow over the last few years.

Nathaniel never seemed to rub her nose in those failings however, he supported her and encouraged her strengths, rather than relishing in her weaknesses
as she felt many did.

If she
could
bring herself to love another person, it would be a man like him.

He was wrong that love couldn’t be controlled though. Love was weakness and had to be stopped.
It wasn’t even a matter of choice as far as she was concerned, it was more a matter of survival, after all, how many times could a heart be broken before it shattered beyond repair?

Leaving him to awake
n alone seemed particularly cold however, and she hesitated to leave, even although she knew she must.

Reluctantly, she let go of his hand,
(thankfully his grip was loose due to his slumber) then as quietly as she could, she stole from the room and back to her bedroom.

She
breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the bedroom door behind her, pleased not to have encountered anyone in the hallways.

“Where have you been?” Lilly asked
, surprising her. The other woman was standing in the doorway to the dressing room.

“Where have I been? What do you mean?”
Damaris stalled for time in order to think up an appropriate excuse.

“I m
ean that I came to check on you last night, and you weren’t here.”

“I was in the study, ex
amining the runic symbols that Papa left in his notebook. I fell asleep at the desk.”

Lilly’s expression said that she didn’t believe her.

“You should be careful,” she admonished. “Don’t use his feelings for your own ends, not if you’ve no intention of returning them.”

“What feelings? We’
re friends and he is helping me to find my father’s killer, but I have not used any supposed feelings of his, in any way.”

She knew that she was lying, she was using him for comfort, knowing
full well that she had no intention of loving him. It was wrong of her but she felt unable to stop. He was like an opiate to her, always keeping her coming back for more and while her addiction to him frightened and worried her, she couldn’t help herself.

***

Nathaniel was saddened to awake alone but not surprised and with a heavy heart, he washed quickly, then dressed and headed down to breakfast. Lilly and Damaris were already there and he greeted them with a warm smile, as if nothing at all untoward had happened last night.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Damaris sounded nonchalant, almost cold. Lilly simply nodded in greeting.

He helped himself to the hot plates on the sideboard
, then sat down opposite her.

“Did you
ladies sleep well?” he asked pointedly.

“Very
.” Damaris blushed a deep shade of red and he was pleased to note that she had been affected by their encounter, even if she didn’t want to be.

“Yes, thank you,” Lilly answered.

He buttered his toast then poured himself a cup of tea from the pot.

“I thought that today, we might visit the
midwives, then perhaps the courthouse and read the records from O’Grady’s trials. We might find out who some of his associates are, and we can then question them. Perhaps one of them might know who O’Grady’s cohorts were.”

“Good idea,” Damaris nodded.

***

Mrs Murray
lived in little more than a shack on the outskirts of town. All around the small house were children, but none of them looked playful, as children should; instead they were sitting quietly, dressed in rags, with dirty hands and faces. They were all painfully thin and a few had nasty looking abrasions and bruises.

“Not exactly a good advertisement for an abortionist,” Nathaniel said quietly as they alighted from the carriage.

“They’re not her children,” Damaris said as she looked around. They stayed by the carriage for the moment.

“How do you know?”

“Because they’re too different in features and colouring.”

“Dark haired parents can have blonde children,” Nate argued.

“True but selective breeding proves that we inherit traits from our parents. There are blondes, brunettes and redheads here, as well as blue, green, hazel and brown eyes. I’d wager that few if any of these children are related. It’s possible that these children share one parent, but not both.”

“They could have different fathers.”

“True, but in this day and age she is unlikely to allow proof of such a lifestyle to exist so blatantly and given that she is an abortionist, she more than most has the ability to get rid of unwanted children.”

“
Then what are all these children doing here?”

“Oh, of course,” Damar
is exclaimed. “It’s a baby farm!”

“Excuse me?”

“A baby farm.”

“I heard what you said, I just don’t understand what you mean.”

“Look in the classified section of any newspaper and you’ll see advertisements, usually from supposedly good, Christian women, offering to take in illegitimate children, for a fee. It’s a good idea really; Mrs Murray sells young women in trouble an abortifacient and when that doesn’t work, she gets a second bite of the cherry by taking the children in.”

“Who would leave a child here?” Nathaniel asked looking around in disgust.

“Not many but then this probably isn’t where the children are dropped off. I’m sure there’s a nice, kindly looking widow with a decent house in town, who takes them in and collects the money, then sends them here.”

“If she’s paid to take them in, why do they all look so underfed?”

“Probably because the rich farm their illegitimate children off to a relative, or pay a family to take it in, so most of the women who use this service would be poor and unable to pay much. By keeping the children underfed it keeps them weak and less boisterous, and they’re more likely to die, which increases profits.”

Nate couldn’t argue with her logic but he couldn’t believe that anyone could be so callous. “No decent woman would send her child here.”

“As I said, the children probably aren’t dropped off here, and the mothers likely don’t question the service too much, for fear that it isn’t as good as it seems. It’s not as if these women have options.”

“But-”

“As long as men place undue value on a woman’s purity, places such as this, not to mention abortionists, will always exist. Now, can we please cease chatting and get this over with?”

She headed towards the
rickety old gate in the fence which surround the property, but Nate took hold of her arm, stopping her.

“Wait! I
f you’re right about her and this dubious practice, she isn’t likely to be honest with us.”

Damaris rounded on him. “I don’t care if I have to bea
t the answers out of her,” she hissed, her calm façade finally dropping and for the first time since they arrived, he realised how upsetting she found this place.

He felt awful. Having
lost a child, the idea of an abortionist was probably difficult enough for her. To then see children being neglected, was probably almost more than she could stand. He knew that she wasn’t as cool and calm as she often appeared, but sometimes it was easy to lose sight of that fact.

“I’m sorry, I was simply going to suggest that we appear as clients, rather than as Acting Constable and Justice of the Peace. If she thinks
that we need her services, then we would be in as much trouble as she if we were caught, so she’ll be more likely to be honest with us.”

Damaris appeared to consider his idea then nodded. “Very well. You can do the talking.”

He nodded and taking her arm, led her to the gate and up the path to the property. The children watched their every step, although none offered any greeting and if Nate looked at them, they immediately averted their gaze.

Nate knocked on the front door and it was opened by a girl of perhaps six or seven, who looked terrified at the sight of such grand people.

“Good morning.” Nate gave the girl his most reassuring smile. “We’d like to speak to Mrs Murray.”

The girl stood there, rigi
d and unmoving.

“Is she here?” he tried again.

Finally there came a yell from inside the house. “Who is it?”

The girl appeared even more frightened
but still didn’t move. A few moments later, the front door was pulled wide and a middle-aged woman stood behind the girl. As she saw them, she too looked worried for a moment.

“What the ‘ell do you want?” she barked.

“Please, Ma’am, we need your services.” Nate did his best to look desperate.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” The woman defiantly crossed her arms over her chest.

“I was given your name by Mick O’Grady, he said that you could help us. Please, you’re our only hope.”

She looked them both up and down. Damaris kept her head bowed and did look rather forlorn, although he suspected that she was feeling the plight of the children, rather than being a good actress.

Evidently Mrs Murray saw something in their demeanour that pleased her and gave a curt nod. “I don’t normally see people in my home but since you’re here, you’d better come in.”

The house looked quite nice inside and while Mrs Murray was far from a well-to-do lady, her clothes were new and well kept.

‘
If only the same could be said for the children,
’ he thought.

She led them
into a kitchen with a large central table and gestured for them to sit, taking the chair opposite for herself. Damaris’ grip on his hand was tight, almost to the point of pain, but he daren’t let it go. He thought that she was trying desperately not to let her emotions show, although he didn’t know if it would be anger or despair that erupted. Nevertheless, if holding his hand helped, he wouldn’t deny her.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” Mrs Murray asked. She had neither introduced herself nor asked for their names.

“We’re in a spot of bother,” Nate began. “We… well… My friend’s husband is something of a tyrant and if he discovers what we’ve been up to, I dread to think what he might do. We would run away but his resources are vast and mine are not. He would find us and then the consequences don’t bear thinking about. Mick said you might be able to help us.”

The woman actually looked sympathetic for a moment and he wondered at the Mrs in her title. Had her husband treated her as property? Where was he now?

“I’ve got something you can try, a herbal mix, but it’ll cost you.”

“I don’t care what it costs.”

“A guinea.”

Nate would bet good money that she didn’t charge that to her usual clientele, but he got his purse out and
counted out the coins.

S
he slipped the money into her pocket, then got up and went to a ceramic pot on a wooden dresser, which she brought back to the table, along with a spoon. She opened the lid and dipped the spoon into a treacle or tar-like substance, turning the spoon over and over until the thick liquid stopped dripping.

“Here.” She passed the spoon over but Damaris recoiled, leaning into him.