The Price of Desire (6 page)

Each moment she stood in her drawing room surrounded by her family was stolen from the jaws of Time.

She could hear the bailiffs in the hallway. One of them strode in through the drawing room door. He stopped short at the sight of the six of them clustered together in the window. “The auction starts at nine o’clock sharp,” he said brusquely. “You’d better be off before then.”

She gathered her black shawl more closely around her shoulders. It was time to leave the place she had called home for all her life. Now even if Dominic Savage wished to find her again as he had promised, he would not know where to look for her. “Emily, Louisa, Beatrice, Dorothea, Teddy,” she said, counting them all off to make sure they were all there. “Come, it is time to go.”

It was a long, dismal walk from Bloomsbury Square to the workhouse in St. Giles, but they had not even enough pennies to take the omnibus part of the way. They were no better than beggars now.

Before they had gone a mile, Caroline’s legs were aching. After another mile her feet were rubbed red and raw by the hard leather of her walking boots, her sturdiest pair of shoes and the ones she had elected to take with her to the workhouse. Her kid slippers would be of no use to her there.

Her sisters were no better off. Louisa was already limping badly, though she did not breathe a word of complaint. Teddy was struggling along manfully, but he was clearly the most exhausted of them all.

A patch of common land covered in grass and trees beckoned to her. She sat down under a tree to take off her boots, and the others sank down wearily next to her.

Emily fidgeted uncomfortably while the others rested. “Shouldn’t we keep going? We will never make it to the workhouse by dark if we do not hurry.”

Caroline stroked Teddy’s hair. Almost as soon as they stopped he had fallen asleep with his head in her lap, and was snoring softly. “Are you in such a hurry to get to the workhouse?”

Emily flushed. “We must sleep somewhere tonight.”

“We cannot go on just yet. We will wait until Teddy wakes.”

“And if he sleeps too long?”

Caroline smoothed away a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. “Poor child. Let him sleep while he may. It would be better if he were never to wake.”

Emily shot a sidelong glance at their three younger sisters, who were happily engaged in making daisy chains a few feet away. She leaned in toward Caroline until their heads were almost touching. “The gun?” she whispered.

Caroline bowed her head. “It would have been easier for all of us,” she whispered, “but I did not have the courage.”

“Teddy knew?”

“And lied about it to protect me.”

Emily’s eyes softened. “That is a heavy burden for a young boy to carry. No wonder he is worn-out. I would not wake him for the world.”

“You are right, though. We will never reach the workhouse tonight.”

“The weather is still warm.” Emily patted the grass beside her as happily as if it were a soft feather bed. “We can sleep outside on the commons for a night. If we all huddle close together we will keep warm enough.”

Caroline could still feel the weight of her papa’s gun in her hands. If only she had kept it, hidden it somehow from the creditors and their bailiffs, she would still have the option of setting them all free. But it was too late now. Her courage had deserted her at a crucial juncture, and it was too late for them even if she could muster enough bravery in her soul. By now Papa’s gun would be sold at auction to the highest bidder, and with it had gone any hope of an easy exit from the world. “I should have shot us all while I had the chance.”

“Do not think such evil thoughts, Caroline. While we are alive, there is hope.” Emily gave a small smile and took Caroline’s hand in hers. “The human spirit is a funny thing. Even now, even though I must sleep in a ditch tonight, cold and wet and hungry, I would not choose to die.” Her eyes were brimming with tears. “I want to live, Caroline. It is selfish of me, I know, but even though I must go to the workhouse and labor for my bread, I want so much to live.”

Caroline squeezed Emily’s hand in hers. She had no words to tell her sister how much she shared the sentiment. Even now she wanted to live so much that her desire frightened her. She wanted to live and to see Dominic again, to have him look at her with his eyes filled with desire, as he had looked at her that night in the conservatory. “Thank you, Emily. Thank you for sharing the burden with me.”

She sat on the grass, watching her family with a measure of peace creeping over her soul. Though their father had forsaken them, and the Captain had deserted her, and even Dominic Savage had loved her and left her without a second thought, still she would carry on. Emily had lent her strength to go on when she had none left to draw on. With Emily by her side, the two of them would outface the world and keep their family together.

Emily was right. While there was life, there was still hope. A faint and weak hope it might be, but it was still there to light up the darkness of her world.

Her newfound determination lasted her through the whole of the long, exhausting day of endless walking. Despite their best efforts, by the time night fell they had walked little more than half the distance they needed to go.

Caroline was exhausted from her efforts to keep up the spirits of the younger ones, encouraging and cajoling them to keep on walking when they faltered, entertaining them with stories of when they were little, and holding out the promise of hot food and a warm bed to lie in when they finally reached their destination.

As they were crossing a patch of common land, it was Louisa who finally called a halt to their journey by dropping to the ground in a dead faint. Beatrice gave a cry of alarm and sank down on her knees next to her, cradling Louisa’s head in her lap.

It was only a moment before Louisa sat up again, her face a picture of bewilderment, but Caroline died a thousand deaths in that moment. Her sisters were young, and Louisa had never been very strong. In her haste to reach shelter she had pushed them too hard.

Louisa pushed her hair back from her face. “I am sorry,” she murmured as she tried to struggle to her feet again. “I did not mean to.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Beatrice said, almost fiercely. “You could not help it, could she, Caroline?”

“Indeed she could not. It is my fault that I made you keep on walking when I knew you were weary. Do not get up. We will rest now.”

“Right here?” Louisa queried.

Beatrice looked around her doubtfully but bit her lip and said nothing.

Dorothea and Teddy simply plumped down on the grass with sighs of relief and began to unlace their boots. Dorothea was singing happily under her breath, as if she did not have a care in the world.

“Leave your boots on,” Emily counseled them, joining them on the grass. “They will help to keep your feet warm.”

Caroline shared around the last of their provisions. It was a meager supper they made, with only a hunk of bread, a scrap of cheese, and a withered apple to sustain them after all their walking. Teddy and Dorothea wolfed theirs in no time and looked hopefully at Caroline for more, but she shook her head. “We have nothing more until tomorrow.” It was one of the reasons she had pushed them so hard today. The walk tomorrow, on empty bellies and feet that were already sore, would be far harder even than today’s.

In the disappointed silence that followed, Louisa tried to slip Teddy her apple, but Beatrice stopped her with a growl. “You need the food yourself. He can have mine if he’s still hungry.”

Caroline silenced them both with a look. “I have shared the food evenly.” It was only a small lie. She was not hungry so it was no hardship for her to do with less than the others. “You must each eat what you have been given. We all need to keep up our strength. None of us will manage if one of us falls behind.”

Louisa bent her head, flushing at the mild rebuke, and obediently ate her apple.

Their supper finished, they stumbled over the grass to a massive oak tree that grew by the side of the lane. Its wide-spreading branches would afford them a little shelter from the morning dew.

The six of them lay down in a small hollow at the base of the tree, the younger ones in the middle where they would be better protected from the chill night breezes. She and Emily lay down at each end and spread their shawls over them all.

As Caroline dropped off to sleep, the last thought that went through her mind was a heartfelt prayer for no rain.

The morning dawned gray and misty. The air was dank and clingy with wet, and though there was only a light drizzle, it seemed to penetrate through Caroline’s clothes and skin, down to her very bones.

She woke before it was light, having slept only fitfully. The cold of the ground had seeped into her, leaving her chilled and miserable. Carefully she disengaged herself from the pile of sleeping bodies, stood up and stretched her aching limbs. This morning she hurt in places that she had never known even existed before.

One by one her sisters stirred sleepily and got to their feet, none of them tempted to linger on the ground. They made a sorry picture with red-rimmed eyes that stood out starkly in their pales faces, and hair that looked like birds had been nesting in it all night. She put a hand to her own hair, making a halfhearted attempt to smooth it, even knowing how futile the attempt would be.

What would Mr. Savage think if he saw her now? The thought made her smile wryly. No doubt his sensibilities would be shocked that she had slept out under the stars all night and was preparing to break her fast on any blackberries she could gather from the hedgerows. He would not think her beautiful any longer, if indeed he ever had. His words of flattery had no doubt been just that—fine words well calculated to get her exactly where he wanted her.

It was her shame that he had succeeded, her shame that she had allowed him to take her virginity with so little ceremony. She had not even tried to resist him, or put up a fight. On the contrary, she had welcomed his attentions, and allowed him to do shocking things to her body. Even worse, she had practiced similarly on his body, exploring it and touching it and tasting it without a thought for all the precepts she had been brought up with.

Resolutely she turned her back on her shame, forcing it to the dark recesses of her mind. Her virginity, or her lack of it, ought to be her last worry right now. She had more practical concerns to worry about, such as how she was to keep them all strong enough to make it to the workhouse before another night fell. Though they were trying manfully to hide it, all her sisters looked as exhausted and as dispirited as she felt. All of them, that is, except for Dorothea, whose natural good spirits shone through even in such moments as these.

Oblivious to the discomfort, Teddy was the last to wake. Eventually he, too, rolled over and opened his eyes to the new day. “What’s for breakfast?” he demanded before he had even gotten to his feet.

“Blackberries. And the sooner you get up and going, the sooner you’ll have them in your belly.”

That had him on his feet right away. “Blackberries. Goody, goody. Where are they?”

“Growing on the bushes. You’ll have to find them before you can eat them.”

“I bet I find the most,” he said as he ran on ahead of the group, with Dorothea hard on his heels. “I’m the best blackberry finder of all of us.”

“No you’re not. I am,” Dorothea chanted back at him.

“Don’t count on it,” Caroline taunted them, skipping after them with a smile on her face. “I’m the biggest and the oldest, so I shall find the biggest and the best blackberries.”

“I’m the smartest, so I will find the most,” Emily proclaimed, joining in the game.

“No you won’t,” Beatrice said with a scowl, rushing after them with her skirts in one fist and pulling Louisa along behind her. “I’m the fiercest and Louisa is the sweetest and nicest, so we will find the most. Won’t we, Louisa?”

They were so busy arguing with each other and searching out the biggest and tastiest blackberries along the hedgerows they forgot about the rain and the cold and the hunger in their bellies. Mid-morning had come and gone before they wearied of the game.

Teddy, his hands and mouth dyed purple with blackberry juice, was the first to stop. “I’ve eaten so many blackberries I’ve got a stomachache,” he announced proudly. “That means I won.”

Not wanting to be outdone, Dorothea clutched at her own stomach. “I’ve got a stomachache, too.”

Now that Caroline thought about it, her stomach wasn’t feeling any too healthy, either. “We all won,” she announced, “but Teddy and Dorothea won more than the rest of us,” she added hurriedly at the look of belligerence she saw forming on two small faces.

They had, indeed, all won, as they were a good mile or two closer to the workhouse without even noticing the walk. Another couple of hours and they would be there.

It was closer even than she had thought. A half hour or so trudging along the lanes brought them to a small village. In the distance they could see the forbidding brick face of the workhouse, set apart from the respectable parts of town, looming above the humble cottages like a vast prison.

Now they were so close she could not bear to hurry there. Once the workhouse gates closed behind them, there would be no escape. “I need a rest,” she pronounced, making her way over to the village green and plonking herself down on the grass.

The others followed her, subdued now that the end of their long walk was finally in sight.

The village bakery lay across the green, wafting the smell of fresh bread across the grass. Caroline’s stomach rumbled. Blackberries were all very well in their place, but they didn’t fill the belly like a good loaf of bread did. By the looks on their faces, the others were all thinking similar thoughts.

One of the villagers passed them as they sat there in silence, a curious look on her face. They must look a sight, Caroline thought uncomfortably, wincing inwardly at the woman’s scrutiny and then chiding herself for her folly. At the workhouse they would have to get used to worse things than the stares of strangers.