The Pleasure Merchant (39 page)

I might have been angrier at Hallux over what he had done to Sabina, but to say I forgave him would be untrue. I
hated
him for what he had done to me, even if I had him to thank for the life I loved. Taking my memories had not been his right; nor had it been his right to try and make the girl I had been into the woman he wanted me to be.

It was this thought that dried my tears; brought me back to myself. It occurred to me that while Hallux Dryden was undoubtedly a thief and a murderer, a villain if ever there was one, he had a few too many things in common with the person whom I had always considered to be a
hero
.

“I take it the visit did not go as planned?” asked Reed, once I was recovered enough to wipe my nose.

“No.” Even my laugh was shaky. “No indeed. I left here not knowing who I used to be. Now… I’m not sure who I am.”

“What do you mean?”

I told him an abridged version of what I’d learned. I’d never seen him look more horrified—horrified, and so very sad.

“What a terrible thing,” he said gently. “It seems a blessing you do not remember so much of it. Rasa—Tabula—I... I’m so sorry. But the good thing is, you’re home now, safe, and—”

“Home!” I barked. “Safe! Am I, really? Is this my home—am I safe here?”

“Of course,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Mr. Blythe… he took me for his own, just like Hallux, and he filled my head with exactly what he thought I should feel and know.” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “He took it upon himself to be my sculptor; shaped my clay, as Hallux put it—molded me into the person I am. He’s every bit as much of a Pygmalion as my cousin, playing at making Galateas. Why, even my
name
marks me as his creation—tells the world what he has done. A blank slate! Well, maybe, once. What should I be called, now that I am covered yet again with someone else’s scribbling?”

Reed said nothing for a long time, and when at last he spoke, he first turned me by the shoulders to face him. I looked into his large, dark eyes, and saw sympathy there.

“I could tell you what I think, but what is that to you? No, Rasa,” he said over my protests, “even if we are friends, it is
your
opinion that matters, not mine. Trust me, I have had my own…
moments
… with Mr. Blythe.”

“Really?” This came as a surprise to me; the two of them had always seemed to get along so well. As far as I’d ever known, they’d only ever been on the best of terms.

“Oh yes. I once felt about him as you do… and was foolish enough to believe he might return my affections. When I discovered that was not the case—would never be the case—I… well, I felt a bit used, honestly. We had it out, he and I—not long before you came to live with us, actually. I’ll tell you all about it, if you like… but later. It doesn’t matter, not right now. What matters is that you need to talk to him. And I’d advise doing it first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t know if I’ll see him.” I had neglected to tell Reed of my plans—of the person who slept in the best guest room. “I’ll be leaving, first thing… with Hallux’s wife. She, too, was a victim of his methods. I took her away with me, and thus we must absent ourselves for what I fear might be a very long time… long enough for Hallux to give up on ever finding her again, and for her to conduct some business of her own.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Reed. “I hope it is not an impertinence to confess that I will miss you.”

“An impertinence! Can you be impertinent to me, after all the time we have spent in one another’s company? All that has passed between us?”

“Familiarity does not excuse rudeness,” he said, “and I would not wish to be rude to you, not ever.” He looked away as I blushed, surprised—at that time, I’d no notion of the depth of his feelings for me; I had assumed it was our closeness, in terms of our ages and our situations, that inspired his affection for me, nothing more than that.

“Dear Reed,” I said, “you have only ever been rude to me when I’ve wanted you to be.”

I was rewarded by the return of his warm smile. “You should go and talk to him, Rasa. Tonight.”

“Tonight! It is impossible.”

“You should not leave this as it is, not if you will be gone for so long. I would not suggest this if I did not think it of the utmost importance. I know how highly he values his nights with her, but more importantly… I would keep you with me, if I could in good conscience do so. Do you understand me?”

I did, and I took his hand in mine, kissing the huge knuckles before leaning forward to kiss his lips. He tasted so familiar, so wonderful, that my resolve weakened… but I knew he was right. I could not depart for the north with this hanging over me.

I had to make Mr. Blythe account for himself. There was no alternative.

I would do the one thing he had always made clear I was never to do. I would disrupt him when he was with Mrs. Knoyll.

***

They rented a floor of a small but pleasant townhouse. It had its own entrance, so they could come and go as they pleased. I knew where it was; I had dropped him off at the address several times, in a cab, or in our coach, on our way to or from a job. I had even gone inside once or twice, but never this late—and
never
uninvited. I understood from the first evening I had been left alone at our chambers in Sackville Street that their time together was sacrosanct.

A light still burned in one window, which made matters even worse. Waking them while they slept was one thing, but bothering them as they…

I turned my thoughts from the image that sprang to my mind. I didn’t hate Mrs. Knoyll, of course—how could I? She had been my rescuer as much as Mr. Blythe. But I coveted what was hers, which had resulted in a distance between us, over the years. I wasn’t proud of this, but neither could I help what I felt for Mr. Blythe.

“No need to wait,” I told the driver, as I paid him. I knew if I let him linger I would lose my nerve, and indeed, it was only after he had driven away and I had no other option that I walked up to the door… and knocked.

Waiting was agonizing. They kept no servant; they preferred to cook for themselves on their nights together, and had it cleaned while they were absent. One of them would answer my summons. After a few moments, I once again screwed up my courage, and knocked again, so they would know it had not been an accident.

I heard footsteps. The door swung open—and there stood Mr. Blythe, his face illuminated by a candle. He was wearing only his shirt.

He did not look happy to see me.

“Tabula.” He hardly ever called me by my first name, but the unexpected intimacy made me feel like he was pushing me away.

“Mr. Blythe… I’m sorry to—”

“Explain yourself.”

“I had to see you.”

“Did you?” He didn’t sound convinced.

“Yes. I…”

“Mangum, let her come in.” Mrs. Knoyll appeared in the doorway, clutching a dressing gown about her. It was humiliating, her pleading on my behalf. “You know she wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”

Mr. Blythe saw the wisdom in this observation. His expression softened, and he stood aside. “Forgive me, Miss Rasa.” He bowed. “I should not have doubted you. Is everything quite all right?”

“I went and spoke with Hallux Dryden.”

“I see.” There was a new note of respect in his voice. “Well, come in out of the cold and tell me all about it.”

“I, however, will be going to bed—unless you have need of me?” said Mrs. Knoyll, as I was ushered inside. “I was almost asleep when you called.”

Mrs. Knoyll was too good. I smiled weakly, grateful. “Thank you.”

She kissed Mr. Blythe on the temple, but before she could go, he grabbed her by the wrist and drew her into an embrace. After whispering in her ear for what felt like hours but was likely only a moment or two, he released her. Blushing, she disappeared into what I assumed was the bedroom.

“Would you like a drink?” asked Mr. Blythe.

“
Yes
.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, as he set down his candle and opened the liquor cabinet. “So? What did you learn?”

“My trick, with the pocket watch…” I accepted the glass of port and sipped it, resisting the urge to drain it. “I learned it from him. When he was experimenting on me. On my
mind
.”

He indicated I should sit, and pulled up a chair beside me. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”

Mr. Blythe’s tone was crisp, almost impersonal. It helped me organize my thoughts. As I had with Reed, I related my discoveries as quickly as I could. When I told him of the girl Hallux Dryden had murdered, he put his hand on my knee, and the warmth of his touch almost brought forth another deluge of tears. I forced them down, and kept speaking, staring at the dregs of my port. I had to tell him the rest—about what had happened after. What had happened to Sabina. Why she was asleep in his guest room. Why I was leaving first thing the next morning.

After I’d finished, I was finally able to look up. The expression on his face! I cannot describe it, except to say I believe he felt worse about everything than I did.

“My dear girl,” he murmured. “What you must have endured, sitting through him telling you all of this!”

“It’s not as bad as what he did to Sabina, and—”

“Forgive me, but I am not as generous as you. Not knowing Sabina, I care far less about her troubles.” He squeezed my knee. “
You
are the one I care about,
your
feelings. It’s monstrous! He tried to turn you into someone else! Someone who would please him!”

Hearing my own thoughts in my master’s mouth made me recall why exactly I had come to him. His chilly reception and the necessity of explaining myself had pushed my questions from the front of my mind, but now they were back, and felt twice as urgent.

“But… Mr. Blythe… didn’t you do that, too? To me, I mean? You… named me what you did because of what I was, and then you molded me into… whoever I am now.” I laughed a mirthless laugh. “I scarcely know anymore. Is there anything of me that is… me? Will there ever be?”

The silence following my speech was profound. He withdrew his hand. I felt its absence like a pressure.

“I thought you wanted to learn my arts.” His voice was so quiet I had to lean in, though we were sitting quite close. I realized I had wounded his feelings.

“I did! I do!” I protested, setting aside my glass and scooting forward on my chair, closer to him. “Mr. Blythe, I have no regrets about anything—that is why I said I felt so much worse for Sabina than myself.”

“And yet you feel your apprenticeship has shared certain similarities with what Hallux Dryden did to you?”

“No!” I realized it—the difference, I mean—as I said it. “But…”

“Perhaps the error is mine,” he said. “I never tried to locate your family. I should have, I think, now that I know… all of this. It just never seemed important to discover who you had been. It has always been my honor to know you as you are, and my pleasure to help you become the woman you wished to be. If I had thought for even a moment you would think I was making you into someone you weren’t—if you believed I was doing this for myself, instead of for
you
… Tabula, it has been a comfort to know such an intelligent and capable young woman will carry on my life’s work after I’m gone, make no mistake. But I had always thought you wanted to learn everything I had to teach you. I mean to say, I have always hoped you wanted it
for
yourself
.”

I took his hands in mine. “I did,” I said. “I
do
. I’ve been a fool, Mr. Blythe… Hallux, he said something about fashioning some sort of paragon out of clay. It made me think that perhaps you were also a kind of sculptor.”

“I have always hoped you would consider
yourself
a sculptor, my dear girl—if I have influenced you, it was, I hope, only by handing you such chisels and sandpaper as you required to shape yourself into your own ideal. Well…” he chuckled, “that sounds far too altruistic; there was some selfishness involved. As I said, I think very highly of my trade—and of myself, of course—but I would not see either memorialized by someone who had been compelled—created—against her will.”

There was the crux of the matter. “You’ve never compelled me,” I said firmly. “Ever.”

He looked ever so relieved. “My dear girl, I never thought to tell you this, but I think I shall. It seems… pertinent.” He sat up a bit straighter, as did I—there were so few secrets between he and I, I knew this must be something significant. “When my mistress took me away from the Foundling Hospital, she did not interview me. She did not ask if I wanted to learn what she wanted to teach; did not give me the option of becoming independent after a year, if the work did not suit me. Part of that was that I was only eight years old at the time… and to be honest, in some ways, I think had an easier time of it, learning I mean, due to my youth. Languages seemed to come easier to me than they did with you, and certain aspects of our physical training, too—climbing and stretching and all that. But in other ways, it made things… problematic. She did not wait for me to express interest in the more intimate aspects of our trade, nor did she shirk from catering to the sort of wishes we do not choose to indulge.”

I knew exactly what he meant. “I see.”

“Do you?” He smiled wanly. “Good. I don’t wish to discuss it. I never actually intended to tell you, as it casts rather a dark shadow on the brightness that is our life and our trade. I only mention it because, well, long ago I resolved if I ever took an apprentice, I would select one who was able to choose for him or herself. I would give them recourse if the lifestyle did not suit—and I made a vow that no matter how tempted I might be, I would never,
ever
, touch him or her. The bond between master and apprentice… it muddies things dreadfully. It can be confusing, I mean. I know from experience. For years I thought I loved my mistress. Now I know those sensations were… not
artificial
, but neither were they strictly genuine.”

I hoped he would not look up and see me blushing. “I see.”