Authors: The Courtesan
Watson nodded. “I think it likely.”
“You think they might try again here?”
Watson thought a moment. “I’d not expect them to come this far, but best to be cautious-like.”
That decided the matter. Though Jack had mentioned almost idly to Belle the idea of organizing a system of defense at her manor, now that he knew she’d been actually threatened, he would definitely make such plans—and perhaps linger as long as possible to be able to assist, should it become necessary to implement them.
“Lady Belle mentioned engaging some extra footmen, which would be wise, as well as sending back to the magistrate to see what he discovered about the attackers. Perhaps, with your expertise in the ring and mine in the army, we can devise some plans for the household’s protection. Just, as you said, to be cautious.”
Watson nodded. “My lady’s a gallant lass, but I’d not like to see her tangle with the likes of the men who come at us yesterday. Won’t none of them fight like gentlemen.”
He paused for a moment and then looked down at Jack. “Did she really best you with a sword?”
Jack gestured with his good hand. “You see me here.”
Watson chuckled. “How I’d like to have cast my peepers on that match! She asked me once if I would train her in the Fancy. I turned her down, of course, but damn, I was tempted. Imagine the fortune a man could earn off all who’d come to see her fight!”
“She is most…unusual. Speaking of unusual, how did you come to be a butler?” Jack asked, seizing the opportunity to satisfy this point of curiosity. Though his ton acquaintances, he thought wryly, would doubtless find his
engaging in such a discussion with a servant far odder than Watson’s change of occupation.
Watson said nothing for a moment. Jack was on the point of apologizing for making so personal an inquiry when the butler replied, “Might as well admit it, I took a fearsome pounding my last few matches. Fighting was all I’d ever done since I growed to be such a block of a man, but I knew after that last time, when I couldn’t rightly see or hear for near a week afterward, that if I didn’t stop, it would be the end of me. Still, with the war over, jobs was scarce, especially for a bloke who knew nothing but using his fists. So I took a position at a fancy house, protecting the ladies and escorting out any gents that got too liquored up or quarrelsome. Met Mae there, afore she went off with Darlington. But I had…spells. One night, a customer hit me on my bad side and by the time I come to, he’d torn up the place pretty good. The madam was fit to spit nails and sacked me on the spot. Mae sent me to Lady Belle, and she took me on. Then, when that high-and-mighty butler quit after Lord B cocked up his toes, she offered me his job. Me—a butler!” He shook his head wonderingly. “I’m trying not to disappoint her.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” Jack said.
“After yesterday,” Watson continued, “I’m glad you’ll be staying awhile, Captain, though I be sorry about your wound. I—I still have…spells,” he admitted, and Jack could sense what it cost the big man to confess that weakness. “I’d shoot myself, did something happen to Lady Belle ’cause I weren’t myself to protect her. She’s hardly bigger than Jane, but there’s a warm heart in her what looks kindly on even the raff and scaff.”
“Like Jem?” Jack suggested.
“Jem!” Watson sighed. “Lawton thinks to make a groom of him yet, if he can ever break him of thieving. He’s quick to learn, but so troublesome, his thiefmaster sold him as a climbing boy. Wasn’t but a blackened scrap when Lady Belle found him stuck in the chimney last winter, hands and feet all over burns and him too weak and cold to get himself out. ’Course our Miss Belle, she couldn’t abide sending him back, so she bought him from the sweep.”
“Rescued him, too? Like Jane.”
Watson nodded. “Took in Mae, too. And me.” His smile faded and he fixed a hard look on Jack. “Every one of us would do anything for her, nor would we take kindly to any what might do her an insult.”
Was that a not-so-subtle threat about his potential dishonorable intentions? Jack wondered. “I shall keep that in mind,” he responded gravely. “But certainly you don’t think I mean to cause her harm.”
Watson studied Jack. “Mayhap you could do her more harm than you think. Or more good. Who’s to know?”
After that enigmatic pronouncement, his belligerence faded. “I best let you rest. I’ll be waiting to hear more about them defense plans.” Giving Jack a short bow, he gathered up the tray and left the room.
Watson, Mae, the pickpocket Jem and now this Jane. It seemed Lady Belle had a habit of taking in strays and unfortunates. He tried to examine the implications of it—a courtesan who ran her home like a Methodist mission.
But more fatigued than he wanted to admit after break
fast, Jack found sleep claiming him again. He awoke hours later, ravenous, his room bathed in a gilding of what looked to be late-afternoon sunlight.
From some nearby room drifted in the lilting sound of what could only be a Mozart concerto, being masterly performed on a pianoforte. He was trying to puzzle out which piece it was when Mae walked in.
“Awake at last! You must be fair starving, since Belle told the maid not to rouse you for nuncheon.”
“I would appreciate something more substantial than gruel, this time, if you please! And whom should I thank for the lovely serenade?”
“That be Belle, of course. She does love her music and so she should, so well she plays. ’Tis beyond me, for I’m sure I couldn’t get my fingers to hit three right notes together. Plays like a wonder, don’t she?”
“A wonder indeed,” he murmured, enchanted by the beauty of the concerto and surprised by the excellence of her rendering. Beyond the obvious, a courtesan of Belle’s repute would doubtless be skilled at repartee, practiced in presiding over a man’s drawing room and table, perhaps clever at cards or other games of chance.
But he’d never heard of a courtesan who played Mozart.
“Watson says you’ve recovered right well since yesterday,” Mae’s voice recalled him. “You look better, your eyes clear and some healthy color to your face.”
“I am much better, thank you. Indeed, I hope tonight to present myself at dinner. In the interim, I should be glad of some company.”
“Let me send for food. Can’t play pianoforte or read to
you, but I’d be happy to sit here awhile. Belle and Lord Egremont like a hand of piquet, but I’ve no head for cards neither.”
“You’ll converse with me, I hope. ’Tis something at which you are very good indeed!”
Mae chuckled. “I expect, even if you was in more strenuous frame, you’d not be interested in what I do best. But no matter. Of course, we can talk. Though to my way of thinking, you’d best keep to your room another day or so and let that wound heal over good. No point traipsing about too soon just to land yourself back in bed again.”
Knowing how little time he had left to penetrate the mystery of Lady Belle, Jack was far too impatient to be up and about to heed Mae’s advice. Not wishing to argue the point, however, he simply nodded. “I appreciate your concern, but enough about me. How do you fare today, ma’am? Have you recovered from yesterday’s fright?”
Mae shuddered. “La, best not to think on it! Belle, bless her, thought to beg a bit of the coachman’s restorative to help calm my nerves.”
The coachman’s “restorative” being strong spirits, no doubt, Jack thought, suppressing a smile. “And the maid Jane? Watson said she’d fainted away after the attack.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it, what with pistols firing and flash-coves banging on doors! Though she be so grateful for her rescue, she can’t do enough to show it. Brung me chocolate and built up my fire with her own hands this morning, all the while thanking me for being so kind! Fair made me blush for shame, for I have to admit, I weren’t too happy about Belle agreeing to take on all her troubles.”
If the girl’s gratitude led her to willingly perform tasks generally relegated to the lowliest servant in the household, perhaps she was the innocent Belle had claimed. “Sounds like she is a good lass at heart.”
Mae nodded vigorously. “What did she do this noon but bring back a gown I’d given my maid, for I’d trodden on the hem and torn the satin beyond repair. Somehow Jane managed to fix it—and added a trimming of silk roses she’d fashioned herself that makes the gown look better than new. ’Tis a marvel she is with her needle.”
Mae angled a glance at Jack and chuckled. “Best prepare yourself, Captain. Once Jane learns what a hand you had in her rescue, I expect she’ll be wanting to stitch you up a whole new wardrobe!”
Jack laughed as well—and was heartened to discover the effort cost him only a mild pull of discomfort. “Since I’m soon to turn in my uniform for a gentleman’s coats, perhaps I should take advantage. Jane wishes to be a seamstress?”
“A lady’s maid was what she always wanted to be, Belle told me. No real lady’d take her now, but she might do as a seamstress. Sure as sure, she dare not work in London, but I expect she’d prefer the country anyways. The way she went on this morning—” Mae gave a disbelieving shake of her head “—praising the birds and trees and sweet fresh air, you’d think she’d been transported to Paradise.”
Mae paused and frowned slightly, then looked back at him, her eyes brightening. “You’ve got a big estate up north, don’t you? Far enough away for Jane to be safe. The females in your household would love to have such a seamstress as Jane. Might be you could hire her?”
Jack had a swift mental picture of trying to explain to his disapproving mother how he had arrived at the familial doorstep with a young, probably lovely, definitely un-chaperoned girl. That lady’s reaction when he informed her of Jane’s previous occupation would likely be worse. He hesitated, at a loss to explain to Mae the myriad social violations that made her well-intentioned suggestion impossible.
But before he could think of a reply that turned aside the proposal without insulting Jane or Mae, that lady drew herself up, coloring. “Begging your pardon, Captain!” she said a bit stiffly. “I forgot how Watson told me your lady mother lives there, and your sister, too. I expect the pair of ’em would faint dead away, was you to bring someone like Jane to their door. What with you talking to everyone as if you was no more than an ordinary bloke, sometimes I forget that you be a gentleman. Excuse me for speaking outta place, milord.”
Jack stared at Mae with regret and a bit of dismay. Both his army experience, when he’d lived and fought and had his life saved on more than one occasion by troopers from all stations of life, and the special camaraderie in this household, so different from the rigid hierarchical organization generally found in ton establishments—compelled him to try to heal the breach. “Please, Mae, my mother may be an earl’s daughter, but I’m plain ‘Mr.’ Carrington, and I hope you’ll always consider me so.”
Mae returned a slight smile. “You may not have a fancy handle afore your name, but you’re a gentleman for all that. And your mama be a regular nob.”
“‘Captain’ I will answer to, but no more. Or else I shall have to assume the lordly airs you say I lack and command you to treat me in the same charming manner you have thus far!”
Mae gave him a reproving look and shook her head. “You be a silver-tongued rascal, and that’s the truth. ‘Captain’ it be, then. But you better rest if you’re determined to drag yourself to the dinner table.” She rose and gave him an exaggerated curtsy. “Until later—your
lordship,
” she added with a wink.
So, what had he gleaned from the day’s exchanges? Jack asked himself as Mae, in a provocative swing of hip, swayed out the door.
That Lady Belle presided over an odd amalgam of staff who interacted more like a family than a hierarchy of servants. Individuals who displayed a fierce loyalty and protective concern toward their mistress, who treated them in turn more like relations than paid staff. Indeed, Jack thought, he could hardly come under more critical scrutiny than that to which Watson had subjected him this morning when, perhaps later this Season, he stood before the father of an aristocratic lady whose hand he sought in marriage.
Though his mental image of that scene was growing dimmer by the day.
And Lady Belle herself? By now he was certain that she was far more than a clever woman who had used her stunning beauty to lever herself into the ranks of the most sought-after of courtesans. Whatever her parentage, she must have been gentry-raised.
Speech and mannerisms could be copied, skill at games of chance and witty conversation acquired by one astute enough to learn them, but her mastery of music and the concepts of honor, loyalty and fairness that colored all her actions…these were qualities that must have been acquired during years of growing up in a genteel home.
Besides, he thought, suddenly struck by the notion, unlike her companion who flaunted her sensuality, Belle deliberately downplayed her beauty. He had never seen her, even at the opera, garbed in a gown that featured more than a modest décolletage. For the most part, she kept her burnished hair pulled severely back or hidden, her figure masked in the sober sort of gowns he remembered his sister’s governess had been wont to wear.
He chuckled, finding it rather easy to imagine her as an earnest young lady trying to stuff French grammar and Mozart into the heads of her unappreciative charges. Hiding her comeliness under gowns chosen to mask her beauty from the notice of an employer’s randy husband or son.
Could that have been her fate? he wondered with a sudden burst of furious insight. Daughter of impoverished gentry who’d been sent out to earn her bread and victimized by the idle lechery of some amoral employer? Had Bellingham discovered her at a country-house party and lured her to ruin? Or persuaded an already fallen maiden about to lose her situation to accept his protection?