The Virgin's Auction (11 page)

She did not know this new Peter; did not know how to manage him at all, to make him do as she wanted. It was a complication she had not foreseen, and she felt a terrible anger rise in her at his behaviour.

How dared he! How dared he condemn her choice, disdain this path she had smoothed and laid before him? How dare he question her? She, who was doing all in her power to spare him, save him. Right down to selling her prospect of a family other than him. Heedless wretch!

She wanted to cast it up to him.
To say ‘I have left behind my home, the rooms that held my memories of my mother, my clothes that took me hundreds of hours to make. I have said goodbye to all my friends and I shall never see them again. I have given away my position as a gentleman’s daughter, worthy of respect from my peers. I have given up my body to another’s use so we might have money to get away from everything I hated to leave. I have done it all so
you
could be safe, and you will obey me now. You will find it in yourself to be content with what you have, knowing I have given up so much for you. If I had not done this you would now be the sexual plaything of God only knows how many men who would not care if you were willing or not, who would take your innocence and joy from you as if it was worth nothing. I have saved you, and you
will
obey me.’

The urge to open her mouth and let it all pour out was almost overwhelming. She shook with the force of all she held back, her lips drawing back from her teeth.

But he had already turned from her, was walking away through the doorway. He was gone, while she stood there and tears of mingled rage and sorrow began to streak down her cheeks. She pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle a sob, and then whirled to run upstairs and throw herself down on the bed and cry and cry and cry.

Chapter Nine

When the village bell finally
tolled the hour of two Melissa was sitting inside the carriage, waiting. Peter arrived within moments of the two short chimes. He took his seat silently, and gazed out of the window at the cobbles of the yard. The coachman was a good few minutes more. Finally he came and stuck his head inside to check that his two passengers were present and accounted for.

“All ready then? Good, good,” he said, and went off to climb up to his perch.

For the rest of the afternoon they drove, and into the evening and then the night. By the time they reached their destination it was fully dark and the inn where the coachman pulled up had only one lamp lit to welcome in travellers. He came to open the door for them.

“End o’ the road,” he announced. “You’ll be
wantin’ to stay ‘ere for th’ night. It’s no’ th’ only inn, but it’s the best one.” Melissa pressed a coin into his hand, hoping that he would not talk of his passengers to anyone for the hopefully short time he would take to forget them. He tipped his hat to her with the first signs of geniality he had shown.

“
Thankee, Miss. ‘Appy travels.” He took the two bags that Peter handed down and carried them inside the inn. Then he climbed back onto the carriage to drive it round to the coach house at one side of the building.

Melissa procured two rooms, taking care to soften her speech so it did not sound too well educated. The chambers they were
given were small and slightly dusty, the sheets clean but clammy and unaired.

That night she slept restlessly, waking up over and over again. Finally dawn came and she crawled out of her bed and sl
owly washed and dressed, full of dread at all the uncertainties that lay before her. Now that they were here in Bourton-on-the-Water, her first priority must be to get work for them both.

She decided to start by making inquiries with the innkeeper. With that in mind she went downstairs, reminding herself to be appropriately deferential and to drop her clipped speech for a country accent as much as she could manage.

He was sweeping out the common room when she found him, but he stopped to lean on his broom as she approached, as if glad of the interruption.

She tried to imagine
Hetty, to stand and talk as the house servant might. “Excuse me, sir,” she said with a tentative smile, head inclined downwards, looking up through her lashes. “Do you know of any work available in the neighbourhood?”

“An’ ‘
oo might be askin’?” he replied genially.

“Catherine Merry,” she said, bobbing a curtsey as a serving girl would, “and my brother,
Trevor.”

“
Wha’ sort of thing ‘ave you in mind?” Absently he scratched at his head.

“I’m an excellent needlewoman.
Something along that line for myself. My brother’s bright and willing. He could turn his hand to almost anything, I’m sure.”

She had not struck it quite right, she thought as his eyes narrowed and his head reared back to take a better look at her. It was more difficult than she had imagined,
to drop the vocal habits of a lifetime. “Hmmm,” he said, and she held her breath.

But then he left off his examination of her and tilted his head back to gaze at the ceiling for a long moment, clearly ruminating on her question. Inspiration struck
him.

“You
migh’ ask Mistress Parsit if she’s got use for another needle,” he said, clicking his fingers together and then pointing them at her. “She’s a powerful busy woman, tha’ one. Makes all the dresses an’ fripperies for th’ fine ladies, an’ keeps th’ shop what sells the goods for all th’ rest. As for your brother,” he pursed his lips and rubbed his chin, “does ‘e know ‘ow to deal with ‘orses?”

“No, sir.
But he could learn. He’s a fast learner,” she offered with a hopeful smile.

“No’ for what I’m
thinkin’ of.” He smiled at her good-naturedly. “Any road, ‘e could certainly ‘elp out with some of the village ladies plantin’ their spring gardens. Then you can be keepin’ an ear out for somethin’ more permanent.”

“And who should we see about that?” she was trying to speak more slowly, as he did, to relax into her words as if she had all the time in the world.

“Better be askin’ Mistress Parsit when you sees ‘er. She’ll know better than me.” He accepted her thanks and went back to sweeping.

At that moment, Peter stuck his head through the doorway. He saw her and made as if to duck right out again, but Melissa called him back. Reluctantly he came, pulling at the bottom of his jerkin.

“Let’s have a nice breakfast together,” she said with pretended cheer, determined they would get on pleasantly, even if they disagreed. All they had was each other. They
must
work together. She must find a way to get his compliance.

Her advantage was he was stranded her without money or other resources, and she held the purse strings. He was totally reliant on her for food and lodgings, and he was smart enough to figure that out. A growing boy like him could not go long between meals without feeling the pinch.

He subsided into a nearby chair with neither protest nor enthusiasm.

“Now, I’ve spoken to the innkeeper. He says there will be villagers who want help with the planting of their gardens. That should give you something to do while we look for a more permanent place for you.”

Peter gazed moodily at the tabletop and said nothing.

“If anyone asks you your name, tell them it’s Trevor Merry. And call me Catherine.”

Still he said nothing.

“Did you hear me, Peter?” There was an edge to her voice, and she discovered her own patience with him was paper thin. She longed to slap some sense into him.

“
Yes
.”

He was still looking down, so he didn’t see her glare. After a moment she schooled herself back into apparent calm.

They could never pull this off if he refused to cooperate. The entire success of her schemes rested upon him.

“I expect you to do your part, to work hard and willingly. This is our new life and we must find a good place here to do well in it. I will let you keep some of your wages to spend on what you like,” she said generously. “Perhaps there will be a bookshop here, and you can buy yourself some new books.” 

Still he said nothing. Surely,
surely
her sunny-natured brother would re-emerge soon.

A woman who looked by her age and dress to be the innkeeper’s wife came at that moment to see what they would like for breakfast. Melissa chose the proffered ham with freshly baked bread and butter, and Peter settled on bacon and eggs, carefully speaking only to the woman and never meeting Melissa’s gaze. The matron gave them a fond smile and bustled off to the kitchen.

“Why do I need something permanent?” Peter asked in a low tone, before she could say anything more.

“Why, because you
want a regular source of income; and maybe a trade, if we can secure a position for you with one of the local tradesman. But I fear we’d have to pay for that. There might be enough-”

“I don’t
want
to learn a trade! We shouldn’t be here, Lissa,” he spoke beseechingly, trying once again to get her to see sense. “Running away is a cowardly, dishonourable thing to do. Can’t you see that? We must go back. We must do what’s right-”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Peter,” she said flatly. “It’s impossible. You have to accept I know best. I can’t tell you the exact circumstance-”

“What circumstances? What do you mean?”

“I said I can’t
tell
you,” she repeated through gritted teeth, finding his persistence unbearable.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t. Please leave it, Peter. Please.” There was a grimness in her tone, a hint of menace she had never used with him before, never expected to need to use. She felt ashamed, already regretting it, but did not know how to soften it, what to say without giving way. He had to know she was deadly serious, that there was no choice here for him, for them.

For a long moment he stared hard at her, his eyes disconcertingly fierce in his young face. She looked back at him, hiding her thoughts and feelings behind an implacable mask.

He finally relented, lowering his gaze back to the table.

“A trade it is, then.
Or gardening.”

She felt an enormous wave of relief at his capitulation, reaching out a hand to take his and give it a little squeeze. He did not resist.

“It will all be fine. You’ll see.” She changed the subject quickly before there could be more unpleasantness, chattering with determined cheer about the beautiful view out the window, the clear sky, the quaint inn. He replied in monosyllables. When their breakfast came, he chewed his way stoically through his serving. She ate hers with more gusto. The fresh bread was very good.

Once the meal was over they set out into the village, she not taking his arm as she usually would but allowing a careful distance between them.

By noon, both Melissa and Peter had made a start on their new lives in the pretty village of
Bourton-on-the-Water.

Mistress
Parsit was an entirely virtuous spinster, who cast a kindly eye on the tidy and well-mannered young folk on her doorstep. Yes, she had some sewing available for a good seamstress. Not a great deal, but some. Possibly more in the future. It was clear to Melissa that she would only get more work if she completed the first piece well enough.

As for Peter and his ambitions as a gardener, Miss
Parsit sent him to her next-door neighbour to make enquiries. He came back some ten minutes later and told Melissa that yes, there was work for him to do. He would start tomorrow.

They would not earn much but it was enough to live on for the time being, with some supplementation from her hoard. And Miss
Parsit offered to recommend them to her friend who took on boarders. A good word from her would be enough to secure them a place, and for a most reasonable price, she assured them.

Melissa hoped the price would be much lower than the inn, enough that she could continue to save the rest of her money rather than making inroads. If she did well enough to suit Miss
Parsit and was given more work she might even be able to put a little more aside.  

It would take time to learn how to best use and save her money in this new place and life, but she was confident she could do it. She had run the entire household in London and managed the servants on her own wits and what she could scrape together herself or divert from Father. A modest life of few expenses in the countryside should be simple by comparison.

Once she had that under control she could start to look about for an improved chance for Peter. As a man, his prospects would be far better than hers and they must work together to share an adequately prosperous future.

If he did not do well she would live always on the edge of destitution. But a clever woman could steer them both – if he would only take her direction again, as he always had before – to do well in life.

A trade, enough income put by, perhaps they might eventually buy a farm, particularly if his marriage (she suffered a pang as she thought of it) brought him a little money with his bride’s dowry. That was years ahead yet of course, but it was as well to start planning now.

Brother and sister each thanked Miss
Parsit politely, and Melissa was relieved to know however he regarded his sister, he was capable of summoning reasonably good manners to see him through with the villagers. First impressions counted for so much, and once made they would be near impossible to change.

She came away with a basket laden with material already cut for a sleeve. Her inst
ructions had been very simple and she knew she was on probation. If her work was of poor quality it could be replaced without much expense to Miss Parsit, and that would be the end of her chance to work independently in the village.

She was confident her abilities would impress. Not one of her friends had ever noticed anything amiss in her homemade clothes, kept up to date by careful consultation of the latest fashion plates in the ladies magazines in the lending library. They had assumed that she, like them, paid for a professional
modiste, and she had never corrected that impression.

Though she could seldom afford good new cloth she had made the most of every bargain she came across, buying always plain colours rather than distinctive prints or figured cloth so each bolt of fabric could be made into several different garments over a period of years, sewing with deep seam allowances so each item could be turned inside out, recut and re-sewn in a different style when it started to fade.

She and Peter had always shown a good appearance and she was certain she could creditably clothe Miss Parsit’s customers as well.