Mary Brendan – The Virtuous Courtesan (страница 7)
Already there was a rumour in town that Miss Marchant had been so put out by what transpired at the will reading earlier that she’d run off in a fine old state. But then people were always looking for something to tattle over.
Daniel looked out of the shop window. Towards the eastern end of the High Street he could see the dogcart with old Matthew Jackson perched on the seat. He’d seen the fellow sitting like that, puffing on his pipe, for quite a long time. Daniel watched Sarah increase her pace as though she regretted being late for her lift home. Daniel shook his head in disbelief. For a woman who got through that amount of sedative she had a surprising amount of vim.
‘I’m sorry to be late, Matthew,’ Sarah burst out as she came within earshot of Maude’s husband. He often brought her into town and always waited in the same spot for her to finish her business.
‘Don’t matter none,’ the old fellow answered having removed the clay pipe. Once she had settled on the seat beside him, he gave her a grizzled look. ‘All come right, has it?’ It was Matthew’s oblique way of asking whether she’d got a pleasing bequest from her protector’s will.
Sarah summoned up a small smile and tried to look optimistic. ‘Not quite,’ she answered. ‘But I’ve not yet lost hope that it will…eventually.’
Matthew grunted an unintelligible response, thrust the pipe back between his teeth, and set the horse in motion. After a few yards the pipe was removed again. ‘Straight home?’ he asked.
‘No…’ Sarah looked at the brown bottle clutched on her lap. ‘No, to Aunt Bea’s, please, Matthew.’
He grunted again and bashed out the pipe’s contents on the side of the cart. Shaking his head dolefully, he gave his full attention to the road.
Gavin watched the cart pulling into the distance as he strolled back to the Red Lion. A look of frustration tautened his features. It was not solely due to the fact that the day was closing with his inheritance still hanging in the balance. Constantly pricking his mind was the wish that Edward’s mistress might be as unappealing to him as had been his spouse.
Even when Janet had been a vivacious brunette of twenty with many admirers, he had not found her desirable. His feelings for Miss Sarah Marchant were, unfortunately, quite different. In the lawyer’s office he had scorned Sarah for imagining that he might stoop to coerce a woman to sleep with him. At the time he had meant what he said: never in his life had he bedded an unwilling woman. But his attitude to her had undergone a subtle change, although he couldn’t pinpoint when or why it had come about.
She was attractive, as befitted her line of work, but she also possessed a beguiling innocence.
He’d believed he knew the artful ways of courtesans. It was no idle boast that for over a decade and a half he’d kept company with women of every class and character. Never had he come across a woman as enigmatic as Sarah Marchant. He reluctantly accepted that it would be easy to become obsessed with his brother’s mistress and the knowledge disturbed him. That way lay insanity.
They both knew where this situation must ultimately lead. If she had given him just a small sign that she might welcome his protection, he would have offered it. But she had sought to deflect his advances by offering to be his housekeeper.
He had considered—and rejected—employing her before she voiced the suggestion. Once he had curbed his initial anger on discovering that his brother was dictating to him from the grave, he’d accepted his responsibility to protect her. It was no hardship. He’d known from the moment he set eyes on her that he found her desirable.
The reason for her ruination he’d yet to discover, but it was likely to be the usual mundane tale: her well-to-do family had cast her out after a faithless lover in her youth had abandoned her to her fate. Gavin could not recall any such gossip over a Miss Marchant, but then, if she had always lived in the countryside, the scandal would not have reached London.
Whatever had occurred, it had not cowed her. He was not dealing with a timid mouse. From their conversations he knew she was intelligent and forthright. She could be wilful and passionate, too. Perhaps he was dealing with an artful schemer. Her subtle rejection might be a teasing ploy to aggravate his desire and increase her settlement. Gavin smiled ruefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a particularly comely courtesan had managed to do that. But with his inheritance secure he could afford to be generous to his paramours without plunging himself into debt. The chit simply needed to say yes and he would undertake to look after her in style.
His intention was to take her to London with him and settle her close to his Mayfair mansion. What was there for her to object to in that? She might have been fond of Edward, but he was gone and his parting gift was that she be passed on like a family concubine to pleasure his heir. It was an act likely to crush tender memories in even the most loyal mistress.
Gavin had been aware he was under observation as he stood in contemplation of the cart disappearing into the distance. Now he turned his attention to his admirer. The saucy wench had been trying to catch his eye since he arrived at the Red Lion. He decided she was attractive enough to dampen the fire Miss Marchant had put in his loins. As he passed he gave Molly a wink that sent her, rosy-cheeked, scuttling into the kitchen to boast of her success to the other girls.
‘Oh, I can’t go on like this,’ was Aunt Bea’s flustered welcome as she opened the door to her niece and flapped her gloved hands at her.
‘How has Tim been today?’ Sarah asked quietly, for she was well aware of the cause of her aunt’s agitation. She removed her bonnet and smoothed her blonde hair.
‘In a temper,’ her aunt responded pithily. ‘And I’m in a mind to go out and let him stew in his own juice. Your brother should mind his manners, no matter his pitiful condition.’
‘He cannot help his moods,’ Sarah said softly. She indicated the laudanum in her hand. ‘A draught of this is sure to calm him and ease his mood.’
‘And thank Heavens for it.’ With that announcement Aunt Beatrice took the drug and led the way into the front room of her neat cottage. She turned about and gave Sarah a penetrating look. ‘Come, tell me everything. What happened this morning? Did you get the Lodge to live in and a pension as you hoped?’
Sarah shook her head.
‘You must quit the Lodge? Edward left you a pension at least?’ Beatrice said, a mixture of shock and outrage in her tone.
‘No,’ Sarah said and pulled a little face.
‘Well…I never did! And him such a gentlemen. Or so he seemed.’ Beatrice took an indignant march here and there in her small sitting room. ‘Well, how are we all to live? The cupboards are nearly empty. Why did the tightfist want you to attend his will reading if he’d no intention of leaving you a bequest of some sort?’
‘He did make me a bequest…of some sort,’ Sarah admitted and close behind that declaration followed a small hysterical giggle.
Aunt Beatrice gave her an old-fashioned look. She crossed her thin arms over her narrow chest. ‘Well, I’m pleased you can joke about it all, miss. When we’re all in the workhouse you may not find it so amusing.’ She huffed a sorry sigh and said more gently, ‘Come, tell me what it was he left you.’
‘His brother,’ Sarah said.
Chapter Four
‘Mr Pratt! It is a surprise to see you, sir.’
Joseph Pratt had advanced ahead of her housekeeper into the neatly furnished room Sarah used as a small parlour. Having given the fellow a glower for arriving at Elm Lodge uninvited, Maude Jackson withdrew and shut the door. For a moment she lingered with her good ear near the panels before removing herself to the kitchen.
Moments ago Sarah had been sorting through her jewellery box. Apart from a few family heirlooms left to her by her mama, she had no wish to keep the rest. All were pieces Edward had bought for her and she would sooner be rid of painful memories of him. She would also sooner have the cash they might raise. Now the casket was put aside and, with a perplexed expression, she got to her feet. It could only be a matter concerning Edward’s will that brought Joseph Pratt to her door. She looked enquiringly at him, but no immediate explanation was forthcoming.
Joseph fiddled with his hat brim, his cheeks taking on a bashful glow. A smile slanted sideways at her before he burst out, ‘I beg you will not deem my call an unpleasant surprise, Miss Marchant.’
Sarah’s bemusement increased. ‘I can only answer that when I know what prompted it, sir,’ she returned politely. ‘I imagine it concerns the business in your office yesterday.’
‘Precisely…’ The confirmation was issued with a sibilant throb.
‘I hope there is no more bad news…’ Sarah ventured, unable to properly decipher his queer attitude.
‘No…no,’ he reassured with a flap of a hand. ‘Please do not alarm yourself.’ A look of studied sympathy shaped his flaccid jowls. Inwardly he was gratified to learn that she considered the prospect of becoming Gavin Stone’s mistress as