Miss Lottie's Christmas Protector
Page 21
* * *
It was almost two hours later that Jasper awoke, his voice strong.
‘What is the time?’
‘Four in the afternoon. It has just begun to go dark.’
She saw him wriggling his leg, one hand feeling the outline above the blankets just to check that it was still there.
‘Doctor O’Keefe said that the operation was a complete success.’
She saw how he swallowed, taking a moment to digest the information.
‘He said you might have to favour the leg for a week or two and perhaps use a stick.’
‘A small price to pay. Is O’Keefe still here?’
‘No. He had other patients to see, but he said to tell you he would be back tomorrow to change the dressing and see how the wound looks. He does not expect any problems.’
He was raising his leg up and down now, amazement written across his face.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘No, and that is the thing that surprises me. There is no pain whatsoever. Since the accident there has always been pain.’
His voice drew her in, but it held an edge of exhaustion. To jump into the unknown when he had been warned by so many doctors that a cure was not only impossible but also dangerous took real courage. She could hear the consequence of such bravery in his speech.
‘You need to sleep, in order to heal. Dr O’Keefe was most insistent upon it.’
He reached his hand over to her and she took it, his fingers entwining through her own.
‘I love you, Charlotte.’
And on that pronouncement he fell fast asleep.
* * *
Jasper awoke to the birds singing, a state of affairs he had not managed for all the years since his accident. Usually in the night his leg ached so badly he needed to walk out the tension, but now even as he stretched he felt only the small soreness of the cut with its stitches and nothing else.
The operation was a complete success.
He could live his life now without restriction and he had Charlotte by his side to live it with him. She loved him. Had always loved him. With the quickness of this operation he’d barely had time to think about what that meant, to plan for a life together, to let her know that he wanted her by his side until the day they died, hopefully somewhere far into the future.
The dog lay next to him, on the floor, sitting up and stretching when Jasper registered movement above. His hand patted the softness around one brown and white ear and the dog let out a sound of pure delight.
‘How is your leg today, Hero?’ he asked and ran his fingers across the wound. A lolling pink tongue came around to stop him, the warm wet of it making him laugh.
‘You are like me. We have both been through the wringer, but have come out the other side.’
Pushing back the covers he sat up, his feet against the floor adding no extra hurt at all. Then he stood. The operation site was tender and though he did limp a little on that side it was no more than a dull pain. He did not even reach for his stick at the end of the bed.
He walked then to the windows and back and repeated it. After that he lifted the hem of his nightshirt and saw the bandage was still pristine and unstained. It had not bled or become infected. He thanked O’Keefe beneath his breath with all his heart and Charlotte, too, for bringing such a doctor to him.
The day was still overcast but there were hints of blue in the leaden sky. He would have a wash and get dressed and for the first time in a long while he was truly looking forward to breakfast.
‘Are you hungry, boy?’
The dog stood and stretched and tipped its head, a startlingly direct brown gaze trained upon him.
‘Let me get changed first and then we will go down and see what the cook can rustle up for us.’
* * *
Two hours later Charlotte arrived and was brought through to his library where he sat sorting out the business that needed seeing to. Today she wore the same bonnet he always saw her in, but had on a new dress, one of dark green and gold. For a change the dress fitted her perfectly and she still wore the necklace of topaz and gold.
She looked like a princess, albeit a shy one, for her cheeks were flushed and her more usual directness was missing.
‘You appear to be back to normal.’
‘I am.’
‘Nothing hurts?’
‘Nothing at all.’
He had made an effort with dressing, because after the chaos he wanted to look back in charge and assured. Perhaps it was the clothes that had flustered her, his less-formal garments more familiar.
The dog had risen and walked over to Charlotte, his tail wagging madly.
‘You look much recovered, too,’ she said as she lent to pat him.
‘A good night’s sleep puts anyone in a better mood. Hound or man.’
* * *
He was different today. The dangerous edge to him had been softened under the success of the operation so that she saw more easily both his urbaneness and the great wealth he had.
He was like no one she had ever met before and her proclamations of loving him for ever suddenly felt foolish.
Today he did not take her hand and kiss her palm. He did not come forward either, but watched her from a distance, a puzzlement in his eyes. The dog looked happier to see her than he was.
‘Doctor O’Keefe said that he would call in on you later.’
‘What is he usually paid for his services?’
A new question, this, and she gave him her answer.
‘Cheap for a life then and for a future, do you not think?’
This time there was some humour in his tone and she smiled, liking the way he smiled back at her.
‘In the Rookery O’Keefe is called The Miracle Worker. When we managed to secure him as the Foundation doctor we felt blessed.’
‘Is being there at the Foundation a calling for you, Charlotte?’
‘In some ways it is, but sometimes...’ She let that thought slide before beginning again. ‘I’d like to see other places, other lands, but I would always want to come home. My father began the Foundation and the work feels too important to simply disregard. Perhaps it is the same with you and engineering?’
‘Perhaps, though the job is often in places I no longer wish to be.’
‘Where do you want to be, then?’ She chanced this question because she could not stand the tension between them a moment longer and because one of them had to take the chance no matter what the outcome.
‘In London. Here with you if you will have me.’
At that she walked into his arms and he wrapped himself about her so that she could barely feel the start of him or the end of her.
‘I thought...’ She stopped.
‘What did you think?’
‘I thought you might have changed your mind about me given all the future you now have before you.’
‘You are that future, Charlotte. It’s us from now on.’
His kiss was quiet and soft, a gentle reminder of her place in his life. She was careful not to press in too hard given the fragile state of his leg. A kiss of love in the middle of uncertainty, a way back to him. A promise.
A noise outside had him stepping back and a servant appeared with a note in his hand.
‘This has just been delivered, sir, and the man said that it was important that you see it quickly.’
Lottie held her breath. Please do not let it be another chance meeting with Leonard Carvall, for she knew Jasper would want to go and in his condition she knew it would be detrimental to his leg.
After reading the note he handed it across to her, the signature at the bottom that of Mr Twigg.
‘Carvall has been run down on the Whitechapel Road and is not expected to make a recovery and Frank Wilkes has disappeared completely.’
‘Do you think
it was Wilkes who tried to kill Carvall?’ she asked Jasper as she finished reading the missive.
‘I doubt it. But a man like that must have many enemies.’
‘I hope Rosa O’Brian is safe. You said that the laundry was a part of it all.’
‘Let’s go there now and see.’
‘But your leg...?’
‘Is fine. You know the advice the doctor gave me. Use your leg carefully, but do not stop walking. The carriage can let us down outside so it will hardly be an effort.’
‘And Dr O’Keefe? What if he comes?’
‘I will send him a message and ask him to call in later.’ One finger brushed down the side of her face as he said this. ‘After we have dealt with this, Charlotte, I swear nothing is going to stop us from saying all the things to each other that we need to.’
‘You promise?’
‘I do.’ He leant forward and kissed her nose.
* * *
Rosa had garnered her good sense and taken charge of the laundry herself which was in evidence when they got there, two new girls who Lottie had not seen before folding a large pile of clothes.
‘They came from Old Pye Street and had nowhere else to go so I told them they could work here, for with Wilkes gone and Harriet taking up another job I needed some help. Mr Twigg from the One Tun pub said he would show me how to do the sums and that he would be prepared to put some money into the venture. He was the one who brought the girls here.’
‘He also sent a note to Mr King which is part of the reason we came.’
‘A God-fearing man he is, Miss Fairclough, underneath of the brawn and bluster, and I can tell you that I don’t know what I would have done without him. Mr Carvall is very poorly and it is whispered some of the establishments in the Irish Rookery are not expecting him to come back at all.’
‘Probably a blessing.’ Jasper’s words were harsh.
‘Mr Twigg said he has some business with you that he needs to discuss. He should be here shortly.’
Lottie was relieved Carvall would no longer be threatening them, though with her experience in the Rookery she also knew that when one man fell another of his ilk rose.
It seemed that Jasper was having exactly the same thoughts for when Twigg arrived a few moments later he came straight to the point.
‘Do you think Leonard Carvall was deliberately hit?’
The big man frowned. ‘By a partner of Carvall’s, you mean, sir? It might behove you to be watching those girls who you place in the laundry then, Miss Fairclough, though I have promised Mrs O’Brian that I will be looking out for her.’
‘What of Wilkes?’ Jasper wasn’t finished with his questions.
‘Frank Wilkes would have been under Carvall’s protection and he ran at the first sight of trouble. To the north, would be my guess. Liverpool. Manchester. Other big places to start again.’
‘If Wilkes did indeed run, Mr Twigg, then I think it is safe to say that there must be other threats.’
‘To the laundry?’
Jasper’s voice was quiet as he answered, ‘I would not be surprised.’
‘I’ll be mindful then, sir, and don’t you worry, Miss Fairclough, for I will watch over the girls in our care.’
* * *
Half an hour later as they made their way home to the Foundation, Lottie was uncertain.
‘You think there will be more trouble, then?’
‘Perhaps not for a while, but eventually they will be back, the secret ones who have much to gain from this enterprise.’
‘The ones who had Carvall nearly killed?’
‘The thing you learn about the underbelly of the criminal world is that there is always a tiered system of control. Carvall may be gone, and Wilkes with him, but you can be sure that the ones further up will still have a hand in it.’
‘You sound as though you have experience in this world?’
‘The opium dens have their own masters and at one time I was well aware of them. My advice would be that the Fairclough Foundation watches those who they place in the laundry carefully, though Rosa O’Brian and Twigg’s presence there will be a deterrent.’
‘I shall tell Mama that when I see her next.’
‘When will that be?’ His tone was different now.
‘I have to be there by Christmas.’
‘Don’t go yet then, Charlotte. Stay here with me.’
It was the last word that did it, a tremor in the entreaty that wore down any resistance. They needed to resolve things between them one way or another and already she could feel her desperate need for him building. Now that his leg was dealt with and the prostitution ring that had harboured Harriet White had been broken there was nothing in the way to drag them apart.
In that there was both a freedom and a binding, and yet with no true promise to the other there was also an inherent danger.
Should she keep up this liaison which was precarious in a society that forbade premarital sex? Precarious to her reputation and to her personally, for they had not used any form of control in their last couplings and Lottie was savvy enough to know the risk in that.
She knew that she should return to the Foundation and have him call on her there, a proper courtship observing the rules of an engagement of the romantic kind.
So far sex and lust had taken precedence, the bursting impatience of knowing each other’s bodies being their priority. Granted, they had declared their love for each other, but Jasper had not taken that further, a combination of lack of time and unusual circumstance counting against them.
Her mother would have been horrified to learn of her decision to go to the bed of Jasper, but suddenly Lottie could not care. She wanted him again in any way that she could and to be at this moment lying with him in the sunshine in the middle of the day. Nothing else mattered but them.
‘Yes. I will stay with you.’
He smiled and took her hand, carefully, quietly, a warmth that held her captive until they were once again at the King town house on Arlington Street.
* * *
Jasper closed the door behind them as they entered his room, the light slanting across the bed. All he could imagine was her limbs bathed in warmth and naked under this new day.
God, she was like a witch, full of magic and power, her smile all-knowing and sensual.
‘I want you, Charlotte.’
‘I know.’
‘Now.’
He lifted her then and laid her on his bed, pulling up her skirts and unlacing the fall of his pants. No preamble, no quiet overture, but the racing honesty of a man at the very end of his patience.
When he entered her she breathed in, opening her legs and calling him home. The bandage on his thigh was wide and thick, but it did not hinder him at all as he pressed in, the sun warming them both and pleasure rising to a crescendo and beaching upon them in waves of glory.
When he lay down across her she waited, their hearts drumming and the noises of the day outside coming back into the room.
‘Marry me, Charlotte.’
He whispered these words, no hesitation in them.
‘Marry me and give me children and stay with me for all of our lives, for I cannot live without you. I swear it.’
He knew he should have said these words on a bended knee with a ring in hand, but after the throes of a passion that had brought them back into oneness he could not wait.
He pulled back, but not yet away, a joining still there.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, a happiness in her words that made his heart swell. ‘Yes, I will marry you, Jasper King, and give you as many children as you desire.’
‘Let’s start with this one, then,’ he returned, taking her hands in his own and raising them above her head.
This was a language between them that was unspoken, but every nuance of movement echoed intent and commitment
as he simply looked at her and told her everything.
‘In the dens of morphine and laudanum I imagined I would never escape. I thought I was to be trapped there, in the iniquity and in the stupor. I thought the taste of bitter almonds and strong alcohol was my only home, a place of purgatory, a place of despair. There were things that happened there...’
He stopped and she waited, the gold in her eyes brittle.
‘Things I am not proud of. Shameful things. Things that rose in the clouds of smoke and inertness, things I cannot describe.’
‘Then don’t. You told Harriet not to look back. You told her to take one breath and live, to take one step and live. You told her that and she believed it. Now you have to do the same, Jasper. You have to forget. You are a good man, an honourable man, a man who would save a young woman he had never met despite all the dangers faced, a man who would look after his father when he was ill and despite any difficulty, a man who would watch over his sister with love. A steadfast man. A man of principle. A man I love.’
‘Charlotte?’ He took her hand in his, the smallness of it belying all her strength. ‘Let me show you just how very much I love you back.’
* * *
Afterwards Lottie lay there, spent and quiet, the last tremors of desire weakening and a new understanding dawning.
‘I hope I did not hurt your leg.’
He laughed at that and rolled over. ‘Ecstasy and obsession far outweigh pain, my love, and I would take them any day.’
His finger trailed across her stomach, all her clothes removed now. She felt her skin draw in at his touch.
‘I will buy you a ring of topaz to match your eyes with stones of gold and amber and translucence.’
She smiled. ‘I never felt beautiful, Jasper, until I met you.’
‘Then I am glad for it, otherwise you may have been snatched up by another with your whisky eyes and your curling hair of every shade of brown.’ His hands ran over her hips and her breasts. ‘And that is not even accounting for your curves, soft and full and mine.’