CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
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As Averil had expected, things were not going well at the Home for Distressed Women. If anything they were worse than when she had left. Gareth was staying at her home after moving out of the baroness’s Bloomsbury house, and almost as soon as she stepped inside her door, he drew her into the parlor for a private chat.
Averil hoped he wasn’t going to ask her about the dower house. She didn’t want to talk about it yet. The journey home in the Southbrooks’ coach had been mostly silent, as she and Beth mulled over their personal situations, and Violet grew more and more sullen the closer they came to London.
But she needn’t have worried. Gareth only wanted to tell her how the Baroness Sessington was spreading rumors about him, and how more and more of his donors had begun to withdraw their support for his cause.
“She is saying the most scandalous things about me!” he cried, striding back and forth across the room in front of her. “What can I do? If I retaliate then I am ungentlemanly, but if I allow this to continue then all that I’ve worked for will soon be in ruins.”
Averil sighed. “If only I had control of my inheritance,” she said, “I could help you. I suppose I could ask my trustees but I doubt they will agree to me using my money to support the Home. Not until I turn twenty-one, or marry.”
A lump came into her throat but she swallowed it down. She’d never marry now, she thought miserably.
Gareth was staring at her wildly and now he dropped to his knees before her on the Persian rug. “Marry me, Averil. Please, it is the only thing that will save us.”
Averil burst into laughter. “Gareth, you’re my cousin. We’re almost like brother and sister.”
“Second cousin.” But he suddenly looked uneasy at the thought of them being a couple.
She shook her head at him. “Do get up. Really, it would be impossible. Get up and I will ring for some tea. And calm yourself, Gareth. I shall be twenty-one soon enough. Until then we will just have to think of something else.”
He did as she asked. “What about Southbrook’s property? You know we won’t be able to afford to pay for that.”
Averil took a deep breath. “That didn’t quite work out as I’d hoped, Gareth.”
“Oh?” He noticed something in her face, try as she might to pretend everything was as normal. “You’ve fallen out with him,” he said, dully. “We make a fine pair, don’t we? Me and the baroness and you and the earl.”
“I-I don’t think I want to talk about it.”
And if Gareth found out that Rufus had made love to her on the chaise longue he wouldn’t want to talk about it, either, he’d probably ride to Lincolnshire and demand the earl make an honest woman of her. Could there be anything worse than being forced to marry a man who only wanted her for her fortune?
“I’ve been considering our expenses,” she went on hastily, before he could begin to question her. “You know I don’t like Jackson. I don’t trust him. I think he may be part of the problem with the women leaving. I want you to tell him his services are no longer required, Gareth.”
She expected an argument, but Gareth seemed almost glad to hand over the decision to Averil. “I pay him rather more than he deserves,” he admitted uncomfortably.
“Very well then. And I will visit my trustees and ask them if I can borrow a small amount on the strength of my inheritance. Until something can be sorted out. Perhaps you’ll find another benefactor, Gareth? We should write letters, pay visits . . . We must not simply give up.”
Her rousing words seemed to cheer him up, and he set off to do her biding with more of a spring in his step. Once he’d gone, Averil went to find Beth.
Her companion had left Averil to her cousin, and gone up to her room. When Averil knocked she found Beth seated by the window, staring out with suspiciously moist eyes.
“There you are,” Beth said, getting to her feet and beginning to unpack the bag she’d left on the floor. “How is Doctor Simmons?”
“Worried. Several more women have left the Home. At this rate we won’t need to find more money to fund it, there won’t be anyone left.”
“Oh dear,” Beth responded, but Averil could see her heart wasn’t in it.
“Beth,” she began, but Beth wouldn’t allow her to begin a cozy tête-à-tête.
She shook her head. “I know there are things we must discuss,” she said, “but I think I need to be alone. Just for now. I don’t think I’m quite ready to face the consequences of your-your mistake with the earl, and James’s fibs.”
Was it a mistake? It hadn’t felt like one at the time.
Averil pulled her thoughts into line. “James didn’t exactly fib, did he? He just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
Beth sniffed. “It’s the same thing, isn’t it? How do you trust a man who doesn’t tell you the whole truth? No, Averil, I don’t want to talk about either of the Southbrooks.”
Averil didn’t demur because she didn’t want to talk about them, either. “I’ll see you at supper then.” She’d reached the door when Beth spoke again.
“Why did you leave Hercules at the castle? You do know that they’ll see it as a sign that you want further contact with them?”
Averil stared. Her heart gave a thump. “I left him for Eustace, because he begged me to. There was nothing else to it, Beth. I certainly didn’t do it because I wanted anyone to chase after me.”
But Beth shook her head and turned away.
Averil closed the door behind her and stood a moment on the landing. She hadn’t left Hercules for any reason but the one she’d stated. Had she? Subconsciously was she hoping that Rufus would follow her with the dog? She knew how much he disliked Hercules. Could one make a decision without one’s consciousness knowing about it?
Just for a moment hope fluttered inside her, but she quashed it. Brutally.
Rufus wouldn’t come. Of course he wouldn’t. He was probably seeking out another rich wife by now. She must not imagine for a moment there was a chance they could reconcile, no matter how much that hurt.
It was over.
Rufus leaned against the wall in his shabbiest coat and pulled an equally shabby cap down over his eyes. He always thought it was remarkable that, with the right clothes, he could disappear into the background. No one even glanced at him twice. Slouched shoulders and head bent, eyes on the cobbles at his feet, and he became the sort of man that others allowed to go on his way.
He’d thought of Averil all the way to London, dreaming of arriving at her doorstep and taking her in his arms, but he knew he couldn’t just turn up. What would that solve? It might cause her to harden her heart against him even more. No, the thing to do was to complete his mission for her. To show her he was to be trusted. He would use his skills as a Guardian to discover just what was going on with the Home, and he would find Rose, Averil’s lost sister.
When he did that, when he’d presented her sister to her on a plate, how could she still be angry with him? And when he told her about the castle and his intention to sell, then surely she would throw her arms about him and all would be well?
At least, that was his hope. If he went home without her he dreaded to think what James and Eustace would do to him. Lock him deep in the castle dungeons probably. And he rather thought he would like to be locked down there, sunk in gloom and brokenhearted. It was what he deserved.
Over the past two weeks he’d followed Jackson and watched him meet with several of the women from the Home. An hour ago he’d seen Jackson bundle one of the women, a pretty little thing with bright eyes and curling hair, into a hackney cab and drive off with her. Now he was waiting outside the house they’d driven to until Jackson and the woman came out again.
He shuffled his feet. A skinny boy came up to him with his hand out, but a scowl sent him on his way again. The boy made him think of Eustace, and he took note of where the boy went, to the opposite corner, so that he could throw a coin his way when his watch was over.
Movement at the door of the house caught his eye and he made sure to keep his cap low while still managing to see. There was Jackson and the woman . . . but no, it wasn’t the woman he’d gone in with. It was Sally Jakes!
Rufus watched as redheaded Sally paused to call some final instructions back into the house, and then she caught hold of Jackson’s arm and they were heading down the steps and onto the street. A moment later he had hailed a cab and helped her into it, and watched as it rattled off. Jackson shoved his hands into his pockets and set off along the street on foot.
Rufus waited until he was out of sight before he strolled casually across to the house and climbed the steps to the front door.
A woman in a sober dress and with genteel manners let him inside, but he was not fooled. This was a brothel, a rather high-class one, but a brothel nonetheless. When he asked to spend some time with the woman who had just arrived, she was wary, but he put on his best aristocratic manner and soon persuaded her. She led him upstairs to a dimly lit room. A bed with gaudy crimson hangings and overstuffed pillows took up a prominent position.
“Betty! This gentleman asked for you particularly, so be a good girl to him.”
The door closed on them. Betty had been hurriedly combing her hair, but when she turned and saw who it was, her eyes grew big and frightened. She remembered him from the Home, of course, and it only took a moment for her to start to cry and then admit to what had happened. Rufus felt sorry for her, but less so when he saw the sly glance she gave him as she was mopping her eyes, to see if he was taken in.
He paid her for her silence, and was soon outside again, where the skinny boy caught the coin he tossed and gave him a grin. Rufus was in a buoyant mood. He knew now what was going on. He knew why women were going missing, and he could even take a guess as to why one of them had died.
He had to stop it before it went any further. Before anyone else was hurt. He still had friends in authority, but Rufus thought it was only fair to let Dr. Simmons know first, before he called in the constables. He lengthened his stride in the direction of the Home for Distressed Women.
Averil was on her way to another sewing lesson in the common room, when she noticed Violet sneaking out of the back door. She opened her mouth to call out, but there was something so furtive about her that Averil changed her mind and remained silent. Where was Violet going? She was usually waiting for sewing—it was one of the few lessons, besides cooking, that she liked to participate in.
Since they’d returned to the East End, Violet had been even more anxious and sullen. Gone was the girl she thought she had grown to know at Southbrook Castle, and she found she missed the camaraderie that had grown up between them. When she had tried to ask Violet again what was wrong, the girl had stared at her as if she were insane and then turned her back.
Should she follow? Violet wouldn’t like it, but perhaps this was her way of discovering just what the girl was hiding from her.
A moment later she was following her down the narrow alley that led away from the Home and into the myriad of streets surrounding it.
At first she kept well back, so that she wouldn’t be seen, but Violet didn’t seem to be interested in looking behind her. She was intent on making her way through the crowded narrow lanes as quickly as possible. Twice Averil almost lost her, and then they turned into a courtyard she remembered, and she realized they were nearing The Tin Soldier.
This was where Rufus had carried her in his arms that memorable night.
Averil stumbled, and told her thoughts to behave themselves. No time now for maudlin memories, she needed all her wits to keep track of Violet.
A moment later they reached their destination, and it was indeed The Tin Soldier. Violet had told her she did visit here sometimes, to check if any of the women from the Home were here, but the way in which the girl was behaving now seemed far too suspicious to have such a simple explanation. Averil hid behind a water trough, chewing on her lip and looking up at the building dubiously. The gambling house was not as she remembered it, but then she had last seen it at night, and the darkness had hidden a multitude of sins.
Violet rattled the door and after a moment it opened and she slipped inside. Averil stared after her, wondering what to do next, and then she noticed that whoever had let Violet in hadn’t latched the door properly behind her. It was slightly ajar.
Invitingly so.
She told herself she would be perfectly safe. She’d met Sally Jakes, and the woman had been a friend of her mother, why would she want to hurt Averil? But then she also remembered the fear in Violet’s eyes, and her secretiveness. Women had gone missing; one had died. Was it really a good idea to go inside, alone?
But how could Averil not go in? She was fond of Violet, and there was something very wrong. She knew it. Sensed it. She must follow.
She climbed the steps as if she had every right to be there, and pushed the door open. It creaked, but no one came to see who she was. Inside, the closest downstairs areas were empty, although she thought she could hear someone whistling in the far room, and the sound of water swishing followed by the slap of a mop on the floor. Averil looked up the stairs, where Sally’s office was situated.
My dear young lady, you are beautifully formed, and far from being too fat, I find your proportions exactly to my taste.
“Stop it!” she hissed, and then froze as the words reverberated about her. How could she remember his words so exactly, down to the timbre of his voice and the gleam in his dark eyes, and that wicked smile lurking on his lips? It wasn’t fair. She’d believed in him so completely and he had deceived her.
But had he really? The mocking tone of her inner voice made her frown. I mean, you knew he had no money. Although he never actually came out and told you so, you knew. You thought he was too proud to tell you, and perhaps he was. But you knew.
“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered, “now stop it.” She climbed the stairs to the landing, peering ahead down the corridor.
Was that where Violet had gone? To Sally Jakes’s office? It seemed likely. Averil decided she would go and look, and if there was no one there then she would leave. Just one little look, just to be sure Violet was safe. There couldn’t be any harm in that, surely?
It was quiet up there, until she reached Sally’s office. Again the door was slightly ajar but this time she didn’t want to go straight in. Not once she heard Jackson’s voice. But curiosity and a shaky sense of panic kept her standing there. Frozen. Listening.
“Nah, they don’t have a clue,” Jackson sneered, and she could hear the creak of the chair he was sitting in. “No need to worry yet, Sal. Vi here doesn’t know what she’s talkin’ about.”
“Not much I don’t!” It was Violet, and she sounded upset. “They know what you’re up to, or they soon will.”
A silence.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sally asked in a quiet, menacing voice that sent a chill down Averil’s spine.
“You’d better not tell ’em,” Jackson said with equal menace. “If you tell ’em then Sally loses out. Don’t you, Sal? Just ’cause you’re her daughter, Vi, don’t mean you can do what you like.”
“That’s enough, Jackson,” Sally spoke sharply. “Violet knows better than to talk out of turn. One day all of this will be ’ers. What girl wouldn’t like all the brass I can give ’er? She’s a lucky girl, is Vi.”
“Who says I want it?” Violet’s voice trembled with bravado, but to Averil she simply sounded young and frightened.
“You ungrateful little bitch,” Sally said softly. “I suppose we’re not good enough for you now, is that it? Stayin’ with lords and ladies, all lah-de-dah. Well, if you think you can sneer at your mother and all her ’ard work, think again. You’re not going back to that bloody ’ome. You’re finished with it and you can tell ’em so. From now on you’ll be working ’ere with me. ’Bout time you learned the business proper.”
“No, please no! I want to stay there.” Violet was breathless; it sounded as if she was trying not to cry.
Averil couldn’t bear to listen to any more. This was not right. Violet needed her help, and she meant to give it. She stepped forward and pushed the door open wide.