Salvation (19 page)

Meg tensed, half-knowing what was to come. Suddenly, his expression was sombre. ‘I hope we understand each other,’ he murmured. ‘The priest and Richard Lacey are here. Sooner or later I shall find them. Unless…’

Meg’s mind raced. ‘Unless?’

‘Don’t pretend to misunderstand me. I still want you. I think it is a fair exchange for two men’s lives, don’t you?’

Meg felt her stomach lurch. ‘Why should I trust you?’ The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.

‘So they are here,’ he smiled. ‘Well, what is your answer?’

She bowed her head. ‘What will you tell your men?’

‘That you have confessed that Lacey and the priest were here but they left before we arrived.’

‘And then?’

‘Borresbie and Shore will escort you to London while I and the rest follow the “trail”. Of course we shall find nothing.’

‘You swear to leave here without harming my friends?’

‘I swear by everything that is holy.’

‘Then I will come.’

16

The hallway of the London house was narrow with dark, battered wainscoting and shabby walls. As Meg followed the manservant into a small parlour, the rushes on the floor crackled under her feet, giving off a musty smell. In the parlour, an uncurtained window looked onto a blank brick wall. So this was Ralph’s house – as ugly and unappealing as he was.

The journey to
London had left her weary and desolate; the memory of her departure from Lacey Hall still twisted in her gut like a knife. She had saved Richard and Father Weston, but the hurt in Beatrice’s eyes at what must have seemed like a desertion would not be easy to forget.

The days of waiting for Ralph began. Anticipation of the consequences of their bargain only deepened her distress. More than once, she dreamt of escape – what did it matter if Ralph carried out his threat and Edward found her? Only the fear of endangering the family at Lacey Hall held her back.

Her sole companion was William, Ralph’s manservant, who had been left in charge of the house in his absence. William brought in meals from a nearby cook shop and attended to what little work he deemed necessary in the house. Meg wondered wryly what her mother would have said about such a lax regime.

*

Ralph arrived a week later. It was evening and they sat in the parlour as he recounted the events after she had left Lacey Hall. On his orders, his men had abandoned the search there, but for several days he had made them scour every other house, cottage and barn in the locality.

‘I thought that would do to convince my masters that if the birds had ever been there in the first place, they had long ago flown
.’ He reached for the bottle of wine at his elbow and refilled his glass.

‘Did Mistress Beatrice give you any message for me?’ Meg asked.

‘No. Are you sure you won’t join me in a glass of wine?’ He held up the bottle. ‘It’s a good vintage.’

‘No thank you.’

He drained his glass and poured another. ‘Meg, I have kept my side of the bargain. Now you must keep yours. Surely it’s not impossible for us to live together amicably?’

Meg coloured. ‘I’m sorry.’

He filled a second glass and held it out to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it. What was the use of antagonising him? She was in his power now and whatever he had promised, quarrelling with him might still endanger Richard and Father Weston.

‘No doubt you
wonder why my circumstances have changed so much since the days we enjoyed together in Salisbury,’ Ralph said, sitting back in his chair.

Meg bit back the urge to offer a scornful reply. ‘Enjoyed’ was not a word she would have used.

‘I have you to thank for it,’ he went on.

‘Me?’

‘I had been dissatisfied for a long time with my life there. The work of a clerk is often tedious and there was little prospect of advancement. After your sudden departure, it occurred to me it was time to turn the situation to my advantage. I already had your husband’s confidence. A certain piece of information put him in my debt. After all, what man would want it known he was a cuckold, particularly a man of his pride and standing?’

Meg felt sick. ‘You told him about Tom?’

‘At first he flew into a rage but then wiser counsels prevailed. On my advice, he let it be known you had miscarried and the tragic loss had driven you out of your wits. For your own safety, you had been removed to an asylum some distance from Salisbury. The physician there insisted on complete seclusion.’

Meg stared at him. ‘He told people I was mad?’

Ralph laughed. ‘In your husband’s mind, you were, in truth, not far removed from that condition.’

‘But my family? Did he tell them the same thing? Surely they would not have let me be taken away.’

With a shrug, he fetched a new bottle of wine, opened it and replenished his glass. ‘As far as I could tell, their main concern seemed to be the avoidance of a scandal. My departure from Salisbury suited everyone,’ he went on. ‘Thanks to your husband’s generosity, I arrived furnished with a goodly sum of money to make a fresh start. I never looked back - London is a city full of opportunity for those who know how to make use of it. The work I am engaged on is only the beginning.’

He tossed back his wine, stood up and took an unsteady step towards her. ‘Enough of this talking. Shall we to bed, madam?’

It was the moment Meg dreaded, but she was painfully aware she had no choice. She took his proffered hand and let him raise her to her feet. The room swam. The wine had been stronger than she realised.

Upstairs, in his sparsely furnished room, she shivered. Ralph put the wine bottle on the table and frowned at the empty grate. ‘I told that lazy fool of a servant to light a fire.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Meg said quickly. The banal exchange heightened the strange awkwardness of the situation. Ralph’s inability to meet her eye made her think he felt it too.

With difficulty, she suppressed a shudder as he unhooked her gown then clumsily unlaced the ties of her bodice and petticoats. Naked but for her shift, she clasped her arms over her breasts and watched him strip off his breeches and hose.

He came towards her and uncrossed her arms then pulled down the loose neckline of her shift. His mouth explored the curve of her breasts, his tongue running hungrily over her skin. Beads of sweat matted his hair and his breath smelt of wine. ‘Lie down,’ he muttered.

The mattress sagged as he clambered onto the bed beside her. His legs straddled hers and his hand reached for his manhood. Meg tensed, waiting for him to enter her. She felt his probing fingers and a wet, slippery pressure, but after a few moments of fumbling, he started to curse. All at once, the grotesque comedy of the situation overtook her and an involuntary gurgle of hysterical laughter rose from her throat.

The sinews stood out on Ralph’s reddened neck and his eyes narrowed. ‘You cold bitch,’ he snarled, ‘this is your fault.’

The first blow split her lip and she cried out at the stinging pain. The second smashed into her left cheekbone.

‘I’ll teach you to mock me,’ he hissed. ‘I’ll give you a lesson you won’t forget.’

Twisting towards the foot of the bed, he pinned her by the chest with his knee and seized the wine bottle. He wrenched her shift up to her waist. The remains of the wine spattered her as Ralph rammed the bottle’s cold rim between her thighs. Desperate, she jerked up her head and with all her force sank her teeth into his bare buttock. He yelled and in the brief moment that he relaxed his grip, she shoved him away and jumped from the bed. In the corridor, she raced towards her room. If she could lock herself in, she would be safe, at least for a while.

At the head of the stairs, Ralph’s servant, William, loomed out of the shadow, the light of a candle illuminating his astonished face.

‘Get back to your quarters, man,’ Ralph bellowed. ‘This is no business of yours.’

Meg almost fell into her room and slammed and bolted the door. Outside, there was the sound of a scuffle then a series of thuds and a cry. The door latch rattled and a fist hammered on the wood. She sank to the floor and covered her face.

At last the hammering stopped and there was silence for a few moments. Meg waited with her heart in her mouth then Ralph’s voice came through the door. ‘Hiding in there will do you no good. You’ll have to come out in the end, and when you do, I’ll be waiting.’

In the silence that replaced the sound of his fading footsteps, she crawled onto the bed and pulled the covers around her. She was too exhausted to think about what she would do when she had to face the morning.

*

Grey light bathed the room when she awoke from the last of a series of fitful sleeps. No sound disturbed the silence. She was not sure how much time passed before she heard shuffling sounds in the corridor and a tentative knock at the door. She stiffened and did not answer; the knock came again.

‘Mistress? It’s me, William. Are you awake?

Meg crept to the door and put her head to the wood. ‘Are you alone?’ she whispered.

‘Yes.’

She hesitated. What if he was lying and Ralph was waiting beside him? She pressed her ear to the door once more and listened intently.

‘A message came for him just before dawn,’ William said, ‘he went out and didn’t leave word when he’d be back. It’s the truth, as God’s my witness.’

Meg pulled a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her then opened the door a fraction. William really was alone. She let him into the room.

‘I’m not staying in this house,’ he said, ‘not after last night.’ He rubbed his shoulder. ‘He could have killed me, knocking me down the stairs like that. As it was I thought he’d broken my arm. I only took this job because he offered me good pay but he’s got the Devil’s temper and half the time I don’t get the pay he promised anyway.’ He reached out to touch her swollen cheek and she flinched. ‘You can come with me, if you like.’

‘I don’t know. . .’

‘You don’t want any more bruises on that pretty face of yours, do you?’

Numbly, Meg shook her head.

‘We’d better be getting ready then. I’ll bring you your clothes from his room. Put whatever else you want to keep on the bed. I’ll bundle it up to take with my stuff. Not too much, mind, I’ll have to carry it.’

Dressed, Meg came downstairs. She found William rifling through the drawers in Ralph’s study. He looked up with a frown. ‘They’re all empty - no money, no papers. I thought at least I’d find the wages he owes me. I’m going to have a look upstairs. You can go through in here again, in case I’ve missed something, but I don’t think I have.’

Meg hesitated.

‘It wouldn’t be stealing if that’s what you’re afraid of. He owes me, I tell you.’

Unwillingly, Meg started to search, but as William predicted, she found nothing. Then at the back of a dusty cupboard, she noticed a small, tarnished, brass box. Inside was a block of sealing wax and a ring. The ring was engraved with two letters:
WK
. From the traces of wax lodged in the letters’ grooves, it had been used as a seal.
WK
for William Kemp?

William’s footsteps thumped down the stairs. Quickly, Meg slipped the ring into her bodice and hid the box in the cupboard again before he appeared in the doorway.

‘Nothing there either,’ he said crossly. ‘We may as well be off.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘My sister’s place, it’ll have to do for now.’

*

They left the city by a gate guarded by a forbidding, high-walled building. William told her it was Newgate prison. Further on they crossed a stone bridge over a sluggish, stinking river. The roads were slick with mud after the morning’s rain. Acutely conscious of her bruised, swollen face, Meg tried to hide it with the hood of her cloak.

‘That’s
Lincoln’s Inn,’ William remarked as they passed a large group of buildings set in open fields. ‘My sister gets most of her customers from there. She’s a laundress. Lawyers need their linen washed like everyone else.’

Soon they came to Holborn, where William’s sister lived. Her cottage, with its rough, lime-washed walls, was one of the larger ones in the village. It had several windows under its deeply overhanging thatched roof. ‘Peg’s done well for herself,’ William remarked as they approached.

A young woman with chestnut hair came out of the door carrying a willow basket piled high with linen. ‘Hello William,’ she said cheerfully, ‘you’ve picked a fine day to come. Your sister’s done nothing but grouse all morning.’

‘What are you dawdling for, Susan?’ a voice shouted from inside the cottage.

‘It’s William,’ the girl called back.

A short, stout woman appeared in the doorway. Grey haired with a grumpy expression, she looked much older than her brother. An apron covered her brown fustian dress and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, revealing forearms like ninepins. She elbowed Susan aside.

‘So it’s you, is it,’ she scowled, ‘keeping this ninny talking when she’s work to do? Be off with you, Susan.’

‘All right – I’m going.’

Peggoty looked Meg up and down. ‘Who might you be?’

‘This is a nice welcome and no mistake,’ William muttered.

She swung round on him. ‘Who mashed up her face like that? You?’

‘Of course not, she fell,’ William replied testily.

‘Did she now? Well you’d better be telling the truth. If it was her husband, don’t think I’ll lie for you if he comes looking.’

Meg winced.

‘So that fine master of yours gave you the sack, did he?’ Peggoty went on.

‘No, I sacked him.’ William rubbed his hands together and blew on them. ‘Now let us in, won’t you, Peg? It’s
nippy out here.’

Meg followed
William inside, blinking at the haze of steam that filled the room. When her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, she saw the steam came from several large copper pans heating over a fire. Sheets, pillowcases, shirts, shifts and stockings hung from lines strung around the room and there was a strong smell of soap and lye.