Regency Rumours/A Scandalous Mistress/Dishonour And Desire (58 page)

The door of Caterina’s room opened just wide enough to allow Sir Chase’s tall frame through, before closing quietly again. The white-robed figure on the bed was visible only by the light of a single candle, sitting with her knees hunched up to her chin, her arms across them with a mop of damp curls shining deep chestnut and falling untidily onto her skin. Sobbing, she did not hear him approach and, when he sat on the bed next to her and gathered her into his chest, her head fell forward as if the load of it was too great to bear.

‘What is this, my darling girl? What is all this about?’ he said.

The roar came from a deep wound of insecurity that still could not believe she had found the kind of love she had dreamed of, and now the anguish of reality poured forth as the dam burst in a howl of despair, for she was more sure of her disappointment than she was of him. Sob after racking sob tore words from her, so fractured that they could not be understood, her tears staining the lapels of his grey silk dressing gown with patches of black.

Stroking her hair, he rocked her like a child after a nightmare. ‘Hush, my darling. Hush now. Tell me what the matter is.’

‘I can’t,’ she wailed. ‘You always tell me the truth,
and I don’t think I can bear to hear it. I love you too much, Chase.’

Waiting a moment longer for the terrible sobbing to slow, he held her damp head in the crook of his shoulder, wiping her eyes with the sheet. ‘The truth,’ he said, ‘is what you shall have, nevertheless, because I would not insult you with anything less. Listen to this, and then let’s see who needs your tears most. Will you hear me, sweetheart?’

‘Yes. It’s best to know, I suppose.’

‘Oh, much the best. Well, the story goes like this. About two years ago I was walking home one evening from a Royal Society meeting in London with some friends. There was a scream from further up the street, and some shouts, and a woman came hurtling round the corner as if demons were after her, and she crashed straight into me without looking. She was torn and very distressed, weeping, bleeding, and terrified. Two young men were chasing after her but, as soon as they saw the woman with us, they tried to run off. My friends chased them, caught them and dragged them back. They were as drunk as lords, abusive and unrepentant. The woman was the servant of a friend of theirs. They named him, a man I know, and they had decided to torment her because she had a dignity they found inappropriate in a woman with black skin.’

‘This is the lady called Mara? The lady I saw today?’

‘Yes, her name is Mara, and those two had assaulted her, very seriously. She had been a virgin, but not any more. One of the two, an eighteen-year-old, was Harry Chester, whose face I searched for in London’s gaming dens until I found him again this year. He didn’t remember me, but then, he doesn’t appear to remember much, does he, except how to squander his father’s money?’

‘
Harry?
Oh … oh no! He
assaulted
her?’

‘He told me so himself, quite proud of it, he was. “She was nothing,” he boasted. Just a black slave. Worthless. We let them go and we carried her to Halfmoon Street where my housekeeper treated her. I went to Mara’s owner the next day and paid him for her. Then, when she’d recovered enough to travel, I brought her up here in my coach and gave her the use of the woodman’s old cottage. They’ve all looked after her. They’re a good crowd up here. When I came up a few months later, I could see the result of that night’s work. Your brutish brother had fathered a child on her. That winter, she gave birth to Jack. He’s just over a year old now. A lovely lad. Your nephew, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to shock you. I would have told you, eventually, when we’d settled in. But you saw her. I should have asked her to stay out of the way for a while. She’s an employee like all the others. No more, no less.’

The sobs subsided as she listened to the appalling story, hardly able to believe that any member of her own family could have behaved with such barbarity, especially towards a woman. She
was
shocked, but who would not be?

‘Chase, I’m so … so
very
sorry. So sorry. The poor woman. Will she recover, do you think?’

‘She’s very quiet, very spiritual and dignified, and I’m sure she’s happier here among friends than she was in London. But as for recovering, I don’t know. She will talk to me, but there is no man in her life. Shall I find another place for her, sweetheart? I will, if her being here upsets you.’

‘No … oh, no, Chase, absolutely not. She must stay, and I will find lovely things for her to do, creative things that will help her. And Jack must be sent to school when he’s old enough. We must do all we can for them.’

‘Although I think,’ said Sir Chase, kissing her swollen eyelids, ‘that neither of them need ever know that you are related to Jack’s father. That would serve no useful purpose. But now you will understand why I was hell-bent on relieving your brother of so much money. Which member of the Chester family it came from I didn’t much care as long as I could use it to help Jack and his mother.’

‘Yes, my darling. I do understand, and I think what you did was right, and honourable, and very proper, and I am shamed by my brother more than I can say. But I can try to make it up to them by kindness instead of money. What a pity you were not able to win it, after all. It would have kept them in luxury for life.’

‘No, my love. I won what I wanted. It turned out perfectly in the end.’

‘I was jealous. I am not proud of my thoughts, dearest one.’

Tipping her backwards, he loomed over her, studying her tear-ravaged face. ‘Do you know,’ he said, trying to remain serious, ‘that this is the first time you’ve ever shown me how jealous you can be? Everything else, but not jealousy. I was beginning to wonder if you ever would, but now I know. You went off like a little fire-cracker, didn’t you? Eh? I’m quite flattered, to tell you the truth.’

‘Then you had better watch your step, Chase Boston, had you not? I tried to tell myself that I must not care so much if my husband reverts to his old habits, but … oh … the pain of it,’ she whispered. ‘Even without any evidence at all, the pain was terrible, Chase. I love you so very much.’

His lovemaking was exquisitely tender, and for Caterina there was the added piquancy of the fear that her
jealous response had caused. Though it had been fleeting and soon dealt with, the pain was still vivid in her memory, her tears still close to the surface, her heart torn by the shocking behaviour and callousness of the two men in her family. Like father, like son, she thought. Never had she felt so alienated from them, so glad to be well out of their orbit.

She did not reach a climax, as she’d always done before, nor did either of them strive towards it, for her energy had been spent, and what she needed was his reassuring closeness to every surface of her body, the security of his arms, his adoring endearing words of love.

Afterwards, they lay talking about Chase’s involvement with the Slave Emancipation Society, how he had made enquiries about Harry, visited Liverpool docks with friends to find out more about his drunken boasts, and had there seen one of her father’s ships with its cargo of sugar, tobacco and raw cotton.

Guessing was one thing, but proving it was another, and when a voyage of the triangle could sometimes take as long as two years to complete, one had to play a waiting game, though there were some abolitionists who believed that arson was a swifter punishment for law-breakers than a trial and deportment. It was then that Caterina began to wonder how she could be involved, too, as a kind of atonement for her family’s shortcomings.

The answer to this came on the following evening when Sir Chase, Caterina and Signor Cantoni paid a visit to the well-known Theatre Royal in Richmond. Expecting that the standard of acting might be comparable to that of Brighton, Caterina was relieved to
find that she was much mistaken. The shower of calling-cards left at Boston Hall since their arrival had come mostly from patrons of the theatre, eager to be among the first to visit the new Lady Boston, reports of whose amazing singing voice had preceded her.

For the event, she had dressed in one of her loveliest gowns of aquamarine and silver tissue over a deeper silk that shimmered like water as she moved. Her beautiful emerald ring was now augmented by a fabulous matching necklace, earrings and bracelet, with ribbons binding her bodice and hair in the Grecian manner. Here was a chance to wear the white silk stockings given to her by the Tolbys, the white satin slippers with
diamanté
buckles bought in London, the long silk stole bought here in Richmond only two days ago. The proprietor of the shop was also the patron who supplied the theatre with its excellent costumes, and his name-dropping had sent ripples through his customers for the next few days.

Consequently, the theatre was not only full to capacity a good half-hour before the first of the season’s performances of
Othello,
but the whole of Richmond’s high society had taken the expensive boxes all except one, the one next to the Mayor’s Box, which overlapped the stage itself.

So when Sir Chase’s coach arrived there was already a small crowd of people outside, good-naturedly craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the vision in aquamarine and jewels with her two handsome escorts.

‘Who are they waiting for?’ Caterina asked the welcoming manager.

‘For you, my lady,’ he replied.

She laughed. ‘Oh no. For the Mayor and his lady, surely?’

‘No, I assure you. Word of your presence in Richmond has got around.’

She smiled at Signor Cantoni, sharing the joke with the lift of an eyebrow. Provincial they may be up here in the northern counties, but they certainly knew how to make one feel welcome. She could not have anticipated, either, the smiles, bows, curtsies and handshakes issuing from all sides of the trio as if they were royalty, nor could she have known that the colours she had chosen to wear were as close as one could get to the colour scheme of the auditorium. Everywhere, on every surface, the greeny-blue was reflected in three different tones highlighted with gold; even the ceiling was a rectangle of blue-and-white painted clouds.

As they entered their box, the be-wigged Mayor and his elderly wife followed close behind, smiling in triumph and drawing their attention to the crowd on the benches below, in the boxes round the room, and in the gallery above. Like the surge of the tide, the audience rose to its feet, applauding and whistling their delight.

‘What a wonderful welcome they give you,’ Caterina said to the mayor’s wife, above the din. ‘And for Sir Chase, too. I had no idea he was so popular.’

The mayor’s wife twinkled. ‘Listen to them, Lady Boston. I think you’ll find it’s you they’re eager to see more of.’

Puzzled, she turned to the sea of faces, then across at the waving occupants of the boxes. ‘Paradise Lady!’ they were calling. ‘Songbird! Lady Boston … the Paradise Bird … wow! What a stunner … well done, Sir Chase!’

They were calling for her by name, by a flattering sobriquet with a saucy ring to it, whistling, clapping, and a loud bellow of, ‘Gi’ us a song then, m’lady!’
Laughter and cheers covered her from all sides like a soft blanket of adoration, and she knew as she had never known before that she was at home, not away from it. Holding Chase by the hand, she felt the warm squeeze as he shared her pride, then her hand was lifted to his lips while the audience applauded the gallant gesture. Their eyes met in shared amusement at the neck-breaking speed of their progress, recalling their fights and her attempts at avoidance, the obstacles, the balking and the impulsive, passionate loving.

The wonderful experience of that evening, however, was a catalyst for an idea that began to form in Caterina’s mind during the performance, for it was obvious that she had a large and unexpected following of enthusiasts. During the interval, Sir Chase had introduced many who had left their calling-cards and who wanted to know when she would be giving her first recital, a question that was asked again and again of them, of Signor Cantoni, too.

‘With a place as large as this,’ she said to her husband that same night, ‘we could hold a series of charity concerts each year, as they do in Ham House, and Syon, and Marble Hill. Nobody in Surrey minds paying handsomely for an evening of music, and it’s a chance to dress up and gossip, and just think of the money we could raise once a month.’

‘What charity did you have in mind, Paradise Lady?’ he said, going to stand behind her to look at their reflections in the mirror. He pulled gently at the ribbons still binding her hair, releasing layer upon layer of red-brown curls.

She turned to him, holding out her arms as he knelt to her level. She enclosed his head and shoulders, admiring
the noble beauty of his brow and the thick spring of hair that defined his chiselled features. ‘Do you need to ask?’ she whispered. ‘Your society, for slaves, for their freedom. I’ve been given my freedom, but I cannot begin to share their sorrows. It hardly bears thinking about. If I can earn money by singing, then it makes sense for us to contribute to our own cause rather than other people’s, and here we have every facility for indoor
and
outdoor concerts, as well as a list of patrons eager to attend. Signor Cantoni would love to be the music director, and there’s sure to be an orchestra locally just waiting for a chance to perform. What do you say, darling? Shall we give it a try?’

Lifting his head, he smiled into her dreaming eyes and saw how the eyelids drooped with fatigue. ‘I say, my beautiful girl, that you are the most tender-hearted and generous creature I know, the most talented and the loveliest …’

‘Stop, Chase. That’s not what I’m asking you.’

‘And the most enchanting songbird, and it’s no wonder they want more of you. So do I. But I’ve got you in my arms, as I’ve wanted to all evening, and I don’t think I can wait any longer. Shall we discuss it tomorrow, my sweet?’

‘Only if you promise to agree,’ she whispered, watching as his fingers eased her chemise off one shoulder. The lace frill rested upon her breast, teasing him with the sight of her half-exposed voluptuousness.