Authors: The Courtesan
A
MONTH LATER
, Belle sat in the bookroom, gazing over her account books. Harold, the farm manager, had just finished reporting on the progress of the spring crops.
The meadows had been pale green with newly sprouted grain when last she’d driven to inspect them, Jack by her side. Both passing Bellehaven’s fields and surveying her land from the heights were now so entangled with memories of Jack that, except for a daily ride along a path they’d never taken, she avoided going farther than the gardens.
Her irrational fury, flamed by hurt and a raw sense of betrayal, had lasted barely into the evening after Jack’s departure. Upon the sober reflection he’d begged her to grant him, she’d had to acquit him of trying to deceive her. ’Twas nonsensical to think he’d have deliberately courted death by allowing her to wound him so he might have enough time to insinuate himself into her good graces.
She had even cautiously come to believe his claims of having grown attached to her. If merely bedding her to win a wager had been his goal, he could easily have done so the night she’d tried to seduce him.
Instead of taking what she offered and setting off to col
lect his winnings, he’d set her at arm’s length and vowed never to touch her unless she desired it. And during the halcyon week he’d remained—as cynically as she’d tried to reevaluate it afterward in the heat of her anger—she’d not been able to read into his many acts of tenderness any meaning but that he’d developed for her a sincere affection.
She probably owed him an apology for doubting his word and his honor, not that she was likely ever to have a chance to tender it.
Perhaps the greatest of his gifts had been showing her the bliss and closeness possible in the physical union of a man and a woman. A bliss he’d staved off his own pleasure to let her savor. A closeness she would ache for the rest of her life.
Still, he might admire and respect her with all the fervor the British public felt for Lord Wellington, but that didn’t change the fact that a man like Captain Carrington could not marry a woman like Lady Belle. That he had even considered such a thing was proof of the power of what they’d shared, isolated in their cocoon of enchantment at Bellehaven. An escape from the harsh realities of their world as fragile and ephemeral as any caterpillar’s web.
An enchantment which could not have survived Jack’s return to his family and his proper place in life. Since even the sincerest of attachments would not be enough to create a legitimate future for them, ’twas probably best that the vile Lord Rupert had shattered their idyll.
Before she grew so dependent upon Jack’s presence
that she abandoned all her scruples and begged him to keep her as his mistress. Hidden away, waiting for the bits of time he could steal, she would eventually have ended by hating them both for agreeing to it.
And even if by some miracle the impossible happened and Jack actually offered to marry her, she’d not been making idle claims when she said she had no wish to marry. Though Jack might not have participated in that tawdry wager, he had not seemed much disturbed by it. With even Jack, the best of men, adhering to a code of honor she neither trusted nor understood, now that she possessed the means to survive on her own, she wasn’t sure she could have been able to yield even to Jack the power over her life and future a legitimate husband would wield.
Fortunately, she’d not had to make so terrifying a choice. Instead, he had left her with memories of passion and tenderness she could cherish forever.
Through all the long, lonely years ahead.
A rap on the door called her out of her gloomy thoughts, followed a moment later by Mae’s entrance.
“You’re up early this morning,” Belle observed.
“With my chocolate came some news so important, I had to find you at once.”
Something had happened to Jack? the thought flew into her head. She shook the silly idea free. Should anything befall Captain Carrington, Mae was even more unlikely than she to be informed of it.
“Have the allied sovereigns returned to set London celebrating again?” she asked, trying for a light tone.
“And how would I know, little as we hear about the
City? No, ’tis only that Jane told me Sergeant Jackman said today’s Market Day in the village, which don’t happen but once every few months. We’ve both been trapped here like mice in a barrel this past age. Do say we can go!”
Belle frowned. “I’m not sure that would be wise.”
“But there’s not been a bit of trouble since we arrived, near on seven weeks ago! Sergeant Jackman agrees. See, I brung him with me to tell you so himself.” At that, Mae opened the door and beckoned.
His thin frame garbed in the worn Rifleman’s jacket, the tall soldier limped in. “Morning, Lady Belle.”
“And to you, Sergeant. Mae says you’ve told her you think an excursion to Market Day would not pose a risk?”
“No, ma’am. My men haven’t seen any strangers in the towns hereabouts and they been watching close. Market Day brings in mostly the country people, and the men will know all of them. I think you’ll be safe enough, but just in case, we’ll keep a close guard. If some London toughs make an appearance, we can handle ’em.”
The sergeant might have returned from Waterloo with a scarred face and a pronounced limp, but he had a keen intelligence and a sharp eye, and she trusted his judgment.
“See?” Mae replied triumphantly. “Reynolds says there be some tolerable shops in the village and the inn has a very good cook. If I don’t soon see something besides trees and fields and cows, I’m going to go madder than the old king! Besides, Belle, you’ve been as snappish as a dog with a sore paw since…since a certain gentleman left. Getting out would do you good.”
Guilt washed through Belle. She
had
been drifting
along in a private fog of grief since Jack Carrington drove away, selfishly leaving Mae on her own to find amusement. “You’re right, and I do beg your pardon. Since the sergeant approves the excursion, we shall go.”
A sudden worry occurred and she looked at Jackman. “Only I cannot feel comfortable leaving Jane behind.”
“We’ll take her with us,” he replied. “Don’t you worry none, ma’am. I won’t let nothing harm Miss Jane.”
Belle smiled. Even as distracted as she’d been this last month, she’d noticed the friendship developing between the shy Jane and the reticent young soldier.
She’d known the members of her own household were unlikely to disdain the girl for her sullied past. She’d not been so sure about Jackman.
Though the story she’d put round the countryside blamed the attack on them on highwaymen intent on stealing her jewels, Jack—she still could not recall his name without a pang—had felt it necessary to inform the man he’d placed in charge of protecting them of the true circumstances. Belle had worried he might look upon Jane with contempt. But from the first, the sergeant had treated her with the same respect he accorded the rest of her household. A fact which raised him considerably in Belle’s good opinion.
“Sergeant, would you ask Jane? If she wishes to go, we shall all do so.”
After the soldier went out, Belle turned to Mae. “If Jane does not feel comfortable going out, I shall stay behind with her. Watson and some of the other staff can accompany you. I’m sure they would all enjoy a holiday.”
Mae’s smile wavered. “I’m so desperate to see a real street with shops and houses, I’m fair tempted to agree. But I don’t know this place or these people. Without you to watch so I knows how to act, I…I might say or do something that would set folks to talking about you.”
Belle looked at her with surprise. Perhaps her friend was more aware of how her flamboyant manner of dress and behavior might be perceived than Belle had credited. In any event, Belle was touched that Mae would worry about how her actions might harm Belle’s standing in the community.
Before she could ponder alternative arrangements for the girl’s protection, though, Sergeant Jackman returned to report that Jane was quite willing to go on an excursion.
Scarcely more than an hour later, Belle’s carriage and a wagonload of Bellehaven staff arrived in the village, Mae so excited she could scarcely wait for the steps to be set down. Even Jane, as she alighted from the vehicle, said shyly how much she was looking forward to the outing.
“Thank you, ma’am, for bringing me. I can’t rightly remember when I last walked down a street in daylight, nothing on my mind but looking at the shops and stalls.”
“Relax and enjoy yourself, Jane. Sergeant Jackman assured me he would watch over you all day.”
A blush tinted the girl’s cheeks. “The sergeant’s been ever so kind. I won’t be afraid, not with him staying right by me the whole time—as if he were my beau. Not that he would ever think of me like that! But…but a girl likes to dream,” Jane said, her voice wistful.
Would she not feel invincible herself, were Jack at her
side? Belle thought, her heart embracing the image before it faded on a tremor of longing. Jane was right, she thought with a sigh. A girl couldn’t help but dream. Though, she noted, watching as the sergeant presented Jane with a posy he’d purchased from a flower vendor, in Jane’s case, dreams might become something more substantial.
Not knowing most of the residents thronging the streets and marketplace, Belle found she could not completely relax. In addition, after they left the open-air market and strolled through town, encountering in person for the first time the shop owners from whom she ordered Bellehaven’s provisions made her doubly uneasy.
But the merchants treated Belle and her party with smiling deference, and Mae was so clearly enjoying herself as she bargained over lengths of cloths, discovered a fetching bonnet and called upon Jane to inspect it, that Belle was glad she’d permitted the excursion.
After partaking of a dinner at the local inn which, to Mae’s delight, proved as excellent as their housekeeper had promised, they were walking toward their carriage when Jane halted abruptly. She darted behind Belle, frightened eyes fixed on something at the far side of the crowded market.
Sergeant Jackman fell in beside her, hand on the rifle he’d kept slung over his shoulder. Belle and Mae halted as well, with Watson taking Jane’s other side so that she was completely surrounded.
“What is it, Miss Jane?” Jackman asked.
“Over there,” she whispered, “beside the fruit seller’s stall. That man talking to those girls. It’s Mr. Harris, the
man what talked me into coming to London. Oh, don’t let him see me!”
“Don’t you worry. We’ll protect you,” Jackman said.
“You’re sure, Jane?” Belle asked. Though she had always believed the girl’s story, until this moment the idea of someone trying to lure country girls to ruin had seemed more the stuff of a Minerva Press novel than something that would actually occur in present-day England.
“After two days and nights traveling with him, you think I could forget? See—he’s smiling at that girl, just as he smiled at us. Oh, someone must warn them!”
“Sergeant, please dispatch one of your men to listen to him and draw away the girls, if necessary,” Belle said. “We must know what Mr. Harris is telling them.”
Before leaving London, Belle had spoken with Egremont. Though sympathetic to Jane’s plight, he’d indicated that without sufficient proof to buttress the girl’s tale, he saw little likelihood of the government pursuing the matter. If Harris was in fact dangling offers of employment to try to lure these girls to London, their signed statements to that effect might be enough to persuade Egremont’s friends to initiate an inquiry.
After exchanging a few words with the assistant, Jackman said, “Davie will handle it, ma’am. One of them girls growed up with his sister. If they get any silly ideas of taking off, he’ll tease ’em back home quick enough. Let’s get you ladies into the carriage.”
After securing them in their vehicle with Watson and two other men on guard, the sergeant left to meet his assistant. Belle waited tensely, planning what she would do
next if Jackman confirmed what they suspected. A short time later, the sergeant returned to the carriage and bid the coachman set off.
“The man’s name is Harris, like Miss Jane said. He was filling them girls full of tales about the fine jobs awaiting ’em as ladies’ maids and shopgirls, did they come down to London. Said they could have their brothers or da travel on the stage with ’em, if they was fearful of setting out with just him for escort.” The sergeant sniffed scornfully. “As if a farmer had time to traipse down to London, with the growing season full on!”
“I hope your man dissuaded them,” Belle said.
The sergeant grinned. “Oh, he did. The gent was none too happy about him interfering, but he didn’t try to keep the girls from leaving.”
“He only wants to bring along girls who are willing, so they can’t later claim they was forced,” Jane said.
“Have a man follow him, Sergeant,” Belle said. “For several weeks, if necessary. I must know where he takes any girls he recruits and to whom he reports.”
“Davie’s started on it, ma’am. We’ll watch that gent from now until he goes to ground, wherever that be. You been paying us right handsome to sit around. We be only too happy to start earning those shillings. Besides,” he added, his scarred face hardening, “any man what would lure an innocent lass into Satan’s web ought to hang, I think.”