The Constant Heart (27 page)

The man leered at her. 'I'll be your Walter, missy.'

Sick with terror, she backed away from him. 'No, you're mistaken, sir.'

'Sir, is it? Have we got a lady here in Angel Court? I never had the pleasure of a lady afore.'

'And you won't now, Hawkins. Get away with you, scaring a young girl out of her wits.'

Rosina spun round with a cry of relief as Walter emerged from a doorway.

'Oh, it's you she's come for, is it, Walt?' Hawkins backed away. 'I didn't know she was your trull.'

'Mind your tongue, man.' Walter took Rosina by the arm. 'What are you doing in this place, Rosie? You shouldn't be here.'

'Walter, I was never so glad to see anyone in my whole life.' She leaned against him, weak with relief. 'How can you bear to live in this dreadful place?'

'You'd better come inside for a while, and then I'll take you home.'

She allowed him to lead her into the tenement building. She wrinkled her nose at the nauseating odour of damp rot, rodent droppings and human excrement. 'This is horrible, Walter. How can you stand it?'

'It's all I can afford.'

Following him up a narrow staircase where the plaster had come off the walls in great chunks, leaving the laths exposed like the ribs of a human skeleton, Rosina could barely repress a shudder of revulsion. She had never been in such a terrible place and it was hard to believe that human beings dwelt here. Walter opened a door on the first landing and ushered her into his room, which was little better than a cell. The only furnishings were a single iron bedstead, a chest of drawers and a chair. It was bare of any ornament or anything that might have made the room comfortable, but at least it was clean.

'So this is where you live.' Rosina ignored his offer of the chair and she walked round the room, forgetting her distress in her curiosity about the conditions in which he lived. 'Have you been here long, Walter?'

'It doesn't matter. What is more important is why you risked your safety by following me here. You shouldn't have come, Rosie.'

'I had to. I couldn't bear to think of you being so unfairly treated. Harry had no right to take matters into his own hands.'

'He said that you have agreed to marry him. Is that true?'

She couldn't meet his eyes and she turned away. 'Yes.'

'And do you love him?'

With anyone else she could have lied, but not to Walter. She took the offensive. 'I don't see that that is any of your business.'

'I should have committed highway robbery rather than allow you to give yourself to a man you don't love.'

She spun round to face him. 'How dare you say such things to me? I only came here because I thought you were unjustly treated, but you have no right to question my decision.'

'I am your friend, Rosie. And ever will be. You must believe that.'

There was no mistaking the sincerity of his words or the genuine contrition in his expression and her anger melted away. 'I do believe it, just as I know that you did not cheat my papa.'

'That means more to me than anything.'

'Will you be all right? Will you be able to find another position without a reference? Perhaps I can persuade Papa to give you one when he has calmed down a little.'

'One day I'll prove my innocence, but you mustn't worry about me. I'll find work somewhere. Now I really should take you home.'

'Yes, of course.' For some strange reason, she did not want to leave immediately. She had this unexpected glimpse into his private life: this room was his home, and it was just possible that she might learn a little more about the real person. 'Have you no one you could turn to, Walter?'

He shook his head. 'We'd better go. Your father will be worried about you.'

She had spotted a framed daguerreotype on the chest of drawers, half hidden behind an enamel jug and wash basin. She could not bear to leave without taking a peek, and she moved swiftly to examine the likeness. A young woman with dark hair and eyes, a handsome face rather than a pretty one, gazed out of the tortoiseshell frame. 'Is this your mother?'

'She died a long time ago.'

'And your father?'

'He is dead too.'

She replaced the frame, and was about to turn away when a glint of gold caught her eye. The temptation was too great, and she picked up the gold chain, dangling it between her fingers. From it hung a heart-shaped medallion, so similar to the one that the pirate had worn that her heart missed a beat. 'Is this yours?'

Walter stood very still, his expression unreadable. 'No.'

'Then how did you come by it? Did you steal it?'

'Of course not.'

On closer examination, she realised that the medallion had two initials inscribed on its face –
WB
. 'If you didn't steal it, and it isn't yours, then whose is it? And whose initials are these?' She closed her fingers around the precious metal and felt it absorb the warmth from her hand. She was certain that this had hung around the pirate's neck, and just holding it like this made her feel close to him again. 'Tell me, Walter. I must know.'

He was standing very still. His back was to the light and she could not read his expression but she sensed that he was keeping something from her. Was it possible that he was acquainted with the man she loved? She hardly dared to breathe as she waited for his answer. 'Tell, me, please, Walter.'

'My mother's name was Winifred. The medallion belonged to her.'

'WB, of course, Winifred Brown. Then it is yours.'

'No. It's not mine. It belongs to my – brother.'

'Your brother? But you said you had no family.'

'I don't like to speak of him.'

She clutched the medallion to her bosom. 'Why not? Why don't you speak of him? I must know.'

'He is not a good man. He breaks the law.'

'Your brother is a river pirate?' She read her answer in his silence. 'He is the pirate who stole from Captain Barnum. Isn't that the truth, Walter?'

Walter turned away. 'I am not proud of his actions.'

'But that is how you got the money to pay for the funeral, isn't it? Your brother stole from ships moored alongside the wharves, and he gave you the proceeds from selling stolen goods. Am I right, Walter? Is that the way it happened?'

'It's better that you don't know about these things, Rosie. Don't ask questions that I cannot answer.'

'I promise I won't give your secret away. You know you can trust me, just as I trusted you. I knew you weren't capable of stealing from my papa.'

'Thank you for that.'

He had turned slightly and she studied his profile silhouetted against the dim light from the window. 'I see the likeness now. He was always masked but I always felt so comfortable in his company. Did your brother tell you that we met, Walter? Did he speak of me?'

Walter nodded, seemingly unable to answer. Rosina rushed to his side and clasped his hand in hers, raising it to her cheek. 'Tell me what he said. Did he say nice things about me, Walter?'

'Of course he did. A man would be a fool if he didn't see your worth, Rosie.'

She rubbed his hand against her cheek, closing her eyes and inhaling the familiar scent of Indian ink. 'So that is why you reminded me so much of him.' She examined his fingers, studying the dark stains on his skin. 'I love the smell of Indian ink – it will always remind me of you, and – your brother. I don't even know his name.'

'It is better that you don't know his name. Believe me; it's for your own good. Now I must take you home, Rosie. This has gone far enough.'

She clung to his hand. 'No, I won't go without knowing his name. I love him, Walter. I fell in love with him when we first met at Cremorne Gardens.'

Walter's stern expression melted into a smile. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. 'And he loves you. But it cannot be, you know that. He is a felon. If he's caught he could be hanged for his crimes. You must forget him.'

'No, I could never do that. I don't care what he's done – I love him with all my heart. You will tell him that, won't you, Walter?'

He dropped her hand as if her flesh had burned his fingers. 'Nothing can ever come of it.'

Tears spilled from her eyes. She nodded, wordlessly. It was true, nothing could ever come of her impossible love for a man on the wrong side of the law. She had promised to marry another, and her family were depending upon her to provide for them. She had accepted Harry's proposal of marriage and she was morally bound to him.

'Don't cry, Rosie.' Walter wrapped her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. 'He didn't mean to make you sad. He only wants your happiness, as I do.'

She drew away from him, swallowing a sob and sniffing. 'I know it's hopeless, but it will give me some comfort just knowing who he is. If he's your brother, Walter, then he can't be all bad.'

'Oh, Rosie.' Walter's voice cracked with emotion. 'I'll always be somewhere close by, if you have need of me.'

'I believe you, and I'm truly grateful. I think you should keep away from Black Eagle Wharf for a while, but I'll miss you terribly. Now I'll have to hold the two of you in my heart. You and your wicked brother.' She managed a wobbly smile as she held out her hand with the medallion in the palm. 'You'd better give him back his talisman, and with it my love.'

Walter stared at it as it lay in the palm of her hand. 'He would want you to keep it, Rosie. Wear it close to your heart and remember that he loves you dearly.'

'Oh, Walter.' Lost for words, Rosina clutched the precious golden object in her hand, and then she slipped the chain over her head, tucking the medallion into the neck of her blouse. 'Tell him, I'll wear it always. Tell him that if things were different . . .' Her voice broke on a sob, and she could not continue.

'Come, we really should go now.' Walter's voice was gruff, but he made no move to comfort her. 'It's getting late. I must get you safely home.'

His matter-of-fact tone brought her back to stark reality; she ought not to have come here and there would be untold trouble at home if anyone found out. She brushed the tears from her eyes, and her hands flew to her tumbled locks. She looked round for a mirror; there was none in this austerely masculine room. 'I can't go home looking like this.'

Walter smiled. 'You look wonderful with your hair hanging loose about your shoulders.' He picked up a strand and let it run through his fingers. 'It's like silk. You have beautiful hair.'

She felt herself blushing at the unexpected compliment. 'I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Walter.'

'I may not have spoken them, but the words were always in my thoughts.'

'You and your brother are so alike. I can't think why I never noticed it before.' She smoothed her hair back from her forehead. 'That will have to do, and I'll hope to sneak indoors without anyone seeing me.'

'You must never again venture here alone, Rosie. This is a shockingly rough area.'

She took one last look round the room. 'I know where you live now, and when I feel low I can picture you and your brother here together. You can't imagine what a comfort it is to me, just having a link with him through you.'

Outside in the small square, Hawkins was leaning against a wall smoking a clay pipe. He took it from his mouth and grinned when he saw Rosina. 'Given him a good time, have you, ducks? Put me on your list for when you come here again and you'll find out what a real man can do for you.'