by M. C. Beaton
Esau staggered in with two pails of water. “More,” ordered the earl, snatching them from him.
“The curtains,” gasped Henrietta, for the pretty chintz curtains were ablaze. He threw the water over them and then ran about like a madman, stamping down the flames, kicking off bits of flaming rag that stuck to his shoes.
Esau came back with more water, and it was thrown on the dying blaze. The earl went with Esau this time to the scullery pump.
When they returned, Henrietta was beating down the remaining flames with a broom, unaware of the fact that she was clad in nothing but a flimsy nightdress and a frivolous frilly nightcap.
“That’s it,” said the earl with satisfaction as the water he and Esau had brought doused the rest of the flames.
“Go upstairs to the cupboard on the landing and get more blankets for your bed, Esau,” said Henrietta. “If the others are awake, tell them what happened.”
People in the street outside were clustering around the burned and shattered door. The earl took off his coat and put it around Henrietta’s shoulders.
“Go away,” he snapped at the curious faces at the door.
One by one they drifted off. “I shall send my servants round with some sort of door or piece of wood to keep you secure for the night,” said the earl.
“Oh, th-thank you,” whispered Henrietta, now shaking with shock.
There was a sooty smut on one cheek, and her large eyes were full of tears. He drew her gently into his arms and held her against his breast.
“It’s all over,” he murmured against her hair. “Do not cry. I shall take care of you.” He tilted her chin up. “Smile. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
Henrietta gave him a watery smile. He kissed her gently on the mouth, feeling such a mixture of sweetness and passion that he forgot where he was.
The noise of female screams and exclamations coming down the stairs finally penetrated his brain, and he reluctantly freed his lips.
Miss Hissop burst into the room followed by Josephine, Charlotte, and Esau. They cried and exclaimed over the blackened mess of the room, hugged Henrietta, praised the earl for his bravery, and told Esau he was the best servant in London.
“So terrifying,” gasped Miss Hissop. “We might have all been burned to a crisp, and then what would have happened to my funeral? Oh, to think all my dear funeral instructions might have been burned with me! Henrietta, my funeral instructions must from now on be lodged at the bank.”
The earl took a deep breath, and when all the exclamations and cries had died away, he bowed to Miss Hissop, and said, “Miss Hissop, I shall call on Miss Bascombe in three days time. I would I could make it sooner, but I have matters to attend to. May I have your permission to see her alone? I have something very important to ask her.”
“Yes,” said Miss Hissop, startled into uttering only that one monosyllable.
Henrietta looked up at him as he raised her hands to his lips.
“I shall leave you now and send my servants with something to board up the door for the rest of the night.”
“Bascombe’s will not be opening for a few days,” said Henrietta ruefully. “What a mess! But we shall come about. At least any orders for centerpieces are to be delivered next week, so I shall have time to make this shop sparkling again. Oh, and thank you for your advice. I have been unfashionable enough to start demanding money in advance.”
“Till Friday, then. At six o’clock,” he said, kissing first one hand and then the other.
“Friday,” echoed Henrietta softly.
“Now,” he said, turning to the others, “I must report this fire to the authorities. It was set deliberately. I saw two men running away from the door of the shop.”
Miss Hissop let out a faint scream.
“Someone is jealous of your success. I suggest that in future Esau sleeps in the shop itself.”
After he had left, they all clustered around Henrietta. The earl quite obviously meant to propose to her. Would she accept?
And Henrietta, thinking of his handsome face, the touch of his lips, and the sweetness of his smile, gave a little gulp and said, “Yes. Yes, I will. Yes, I will marry the Earl of Carrisdowne.”
They were so busy laughing and hugging her that they did not notice Esau creep sadly away, an Esau tortured with fears for his future now that his mistress was to wed.
The earl did not tell Mr. Clifford or Lord Charles of his appointment with Henrietta, but both men heard about it when they visited the shop the next morning to find the door boarded up and a sign in the window saying that Bascombe’s was temporarily closed because of fire.
Charlotte saw them at the window and let them in. The story of the fire had to be told again and again, and it was only at last that they learned how Carrisdowne had asked Miss Hissop’s permission to call on Henrietta.
They set to with a will, helping the girls to clean the blackened floor and scrub the soot from the shelves, although Henrietta protested, saying that the maids who were at work in the kitchen would help with the shop later. But it was all a novelty to Mr. Clifford and Lord Charles. Each man was elated at the thought of Carrisdowne proposing to Henrietta.
They left late in the afternoon, saying that the next morning, the Thursday, they were setting out for Newmarket, and promising the girls that they would return as soon as possible.
When they had walked away from the shop, Lord Charles murmured, “As soon as he pops the question, we’ll pop ours. Let him go first.”
“Don’t see why we should wait,” said Mr. Clifford. “Let’s go back now and ask ’em.”
“Oh, let Rupert have all the fun of first proposal. He’s not such a bad old stick.”
“Hope it’s going to be all right,” said Mr. Clifford. “When’s he seeing her? Friday? Whoever heard of a man proposing on a Friday?”
Friday was considered an unlucky day in England. Friday was the usual day for executions, the idea being that it gave the condemned time to travel to heaven on the Saturday and get through the pearly gates by the Sunday. No one ever married on a Friday, and sailors would not put to sea on that unlucky day, even if the winds were favorable.
“It will be all right,” said Lord Charles soothingly. “Forgot to ask Charlotte… little Miss Bascombe’s going to accept him, isn’t she?”
“Yes, definitely. Told them all she was.”
“There you are! Never believed that stuff about Fridays anyway.”
Esau worked and listened to the chatter in the shop. He worked and worried. There must be some way to stop Henrietta from marrying. He was to be paid on the tenth of June. Once he had his wages, he would feel more secure. Somehow matters must be delayed until then.
He felt sure the minute Henrietta accepted the earl’s proposal, she would promptly close down the business. Even Esau knew it was unthinkable that the great Earl of Carrisdowne should have a fiancée in trade.
A busy time made the hours fly past until Friday. The carpenter hung a new door, and Henrietta herself repainted the shop walls.
On Friday Bascombe’s opened again, but there were very few customers, nobody thinking they could get on their feet again so very quickly.
The day passed very slowly for Henrietta. She planned to close the shop as early as half past five.
A coachman and carriage had been hired to take the girls, Miss Hissop, and Esau for a long drive in the park while the important proposal was going on.
Miss Hissop had protested strongly, saying that Henrietta must be chaperoned, but Henrietta said that, being the owner of Bascombe’s, it was perfectly correct to see the earl alone.
The shop was closed at last. The rest left in the hired carriage to take the air. By six, Henrietta was sitting by the window in a pretty gown of sprigged muslin, heart beating hard, waiting for her lord to come.
The little French gilt clock up on the shelf chimed six. She waited with increasing impatience. What if he did not come? What if that great pride of his had persuaded him that to p
ropose to a shopgirl was folly? And if he changed his mind, what then would become of Josephine and Charlotte?
Would he never come? Henrietta began to pace up and down. The others would not be back until after seven. But the precious minutes were ticking away.
She heard footsteps in the street outside and rushed to the window.
Lady Clara Sinclair stopped outside the shop on the arm of a thin, dissipated youth, Henrietta did not know that the youth was Lord Alisdair.
“Pity it did not burn properly,” came Lady Clara’s voice. “You must have hired fools.”
“Try again another time,” drawled the young man laconically.
They moved off. They had not seen Henrietta because she had moved behind the curtain as soon as she had recognized Lady Clara.
She sat down suddenly. So that was who was behind the attempt to burn the shop.
Where was the earl? He would know what to do. If he had changed his mind, if he had decided he did not want her, then she would indeed feel friendless. Only the earl could advise her as to how to go about bringing aristocrats like Lady Clara into court.
How very beautiful, how very fashionable, Lady Clara had looked. How could the earl look at her, Henrietta Bascombe, shopkeeper, when there were so many beauties about?
And then she heard his firm step. She knew instinctively it was he. Henrietta stood up, her hands clasped to her bosom, her heart in her eyes.
Chapter 11
The earl would have been on time for his appointment with Henrietta if he had not met Esau, who was sitting forlornly on the steps of the Grosvenor Chapel.
Esau had asked to be set down, saying he did not feel like going for a drive. Miss Hissop, cross that their male servant should not wish to accompany them, pointed out that the doors of the church were closed.
But Esau, showing a rare streak of stubbornness, insisted, and Miss Hissop, who secretly admired Esau’s religious fervor, gave in.
The earl recognized the servant by his familiar squint and red plush livery. Esau was small for his age, and he looked a sad little figure sitting on the church steps.
“Why are you not in the shop?” asked the earl, stopping in front of him.
“Mistress sent us away,” said Esau. “The rest of the ladies is gone to the park for a drive.”
The earl smiled with pleasure at the prospect of seeing Henrietta alone. He was about to take his leave when he noticed large tears were standing out in Esau’s eyes, making the squint more pronounced.
“What ails you?” he asked gently. “It is the shock from the fire, no doubt.”
Esau solemnly shook his head. The reason for his tears was because he was sure the devil had sent the earl. Esau had long debated telling the earl some lie so that the proposal would never take place. He had gone to the church for comfort and had quite resolved to behave himself and accept the inevitable. But here was the earl, and here was the opportunity. Still, he hesitated, but the noise and the filth of the dreaded workhouse rose before his eyes.
“I am in sore distress about mistress,” he said, enunciating slowly and clearly.
“Miss Bascombe? What is the matter with Miss Bascombe?” The earl’s voice was sharp with anxiety.
“She’s a good lady,” said Esau, “and I don’t like to see her going on the way she does. She would do anything for money, she says, not wanting to be poor again, but it goes against my pinsipulls.”
“What goes against your principles?”
“Her selling herself,” said Esau in a low voice. “First to the Duke of Gillingham, then to Mr. Brummell, and now she’s going to sell herself to you.”
“Do you know what you are saying?”
Esau quailed before the blaze of anger on the earl’s face. He, Esau, might quickly be found out in his lie and lose his employ, but he was shrewd beyond his years and knew that in their heart of hearts most gentlemen were prepared to believe the worst of the ladies. He had often returned to the servants’ pub to keep up with the gossip and had heard the servants faithfully repeating their masters’ cynical opinions about Lady this and Miss that.
“Yes,” said Esau. I’ve lied now, he thought, and may God forgive me, but I’m going to make this a really big one. Aloud, he added, “I would give her my wages if I thought it would stop her. I would work for nothing.”
A red mist of anger rose before the earl’s eyes. He did not want to believe Esau, but why should this child-servant lie to him? What did he really know of Henrietta Bascombe except the little that she herself had told him, and that very little had included her statement to him that she would do anything for money. Besides, she had gone into trade.
Esau knelt at the earl’s feet and clutched the hem of his coat. “Leave her alone, my lord,” he sobbed. “She’s good reelly.”
The earl jerked his coat hem from Esau’s grasp. “You no doubt think you have done me a favor,” he grated. “But you are a disloyal servant.”
Esau shrank away from him and put up his hand to ward off the expected blow.
My world has fallen in ruins, thought the earl bitterly, and here I stand berating a child! He gave Esau a curt good-bye and strode off back the way he had come.
Esau dried his eyes on his sleeve. At least the earl would not be going to Bascombe’s to keep that appointment.
But the earl was too furious, hurt, and sick to let matters rest. Instead of going into his house, he walked on past it, turned down Park Lane, along Curzon Street, and onto Half Moon Street.
He kept remembering her saying she would do anything for money. She was no better than an abbess, no doubt renting Charlotte and Josephine out to the highest bidders. And not content with that, she had nearly trapped three of London’s most eligible gentlemen into unsuitable marriages. He could only be glad that Guy and Charles were safely on the way to Newmarket.
He hammered on the shop door.
The light died out of Henrietta’s eyes when she saw the expression on his face.
“Are we alone?” he demanded harshly.
“Y-yes,” faltered Henrietta.
He stood looking down at her, at the delicate pink of her cheeks, the softness of her mouth, and the swell of her bosom under her gown.
The shop had not yet been cleared of sweetmeats, cakes, jellies, and fruit. She looked as edible and delectable as one of her confections. The shop glowed with color. There was a sweet smell of sugar and spice.
He pulled her roughly into his arms and crushed her mouth under his own. She returned his kiss eagerly, sweetly, and with newfound passion, and it was only after a few dazed moments that she realized how much he was punishing her mouth and that one expert hand had slid inside the neck of her dress to find her breasts.
Alarmed and shocked, she pushed him away with all her strength. Breathing heavily as if he had been running, he stood back, his black eyes sparkling with contempt.
“How much?”
Henrietta put a shaking hand up to her bruised mouth. “I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said faintly.
“I said, how much?” he demanded. “How much did you get from Gillingham and Brummell? You no doubt set your favors high. Well, madam, I am prepared to meet your price. I ask you again. How much?”
Henrietta took a few steps back from him until her back was against the polished wood of the counter.
“I do not know what you are talking about,” she whispered.
“I am offering to set you up as my mistress,” he said. “You may come with me in the morning to my lawyers, and we shall arrange the terms. I cannot promise to keep that harem of yours as well, but no doubt they are experienced enough by now to look after themselves.”
“No!” cried Henrietta, white to the lips. “You cannot mean it. You took me to the theater, you introduced me to your aunt. You have been drinking!”
“I shall apologize to my aunt, and, no, I have not been drinking. I have never been more sober in my life. You are a pretty baggage, Henrietta, and ’fore God, you still manage to look the pic
ture of innocence. Come here!”
Anger rose up in Henrietta, suffocating anger. “Get out!” she cried.
“Why?” His voice was cold, mocking. “I am very rich. Rich enough to purchase anything you have to offer.”
“Get away!” said Henrietta shrilly, as he took a step nearer. “You disgust me.”
“Oh, hoity-toity, miss. I never like bargaining. Is this how you put up your price?”
Henrietta felt beside her on the counter. Her hand encountered the thin stem of a tazza which held a gooseberry jelly. Henrietta had been proud of that jelly. She had added a little coloring to it. It was as green as grass, as green as jealousy.
As the earl took another purposeful step toward her, she raised the tazza and flung the contents full in his face.
“Hellcat!” he shouted, wiping green jelly from his face. “I’ll have you for that!”
Henrietta went completely insane with anger. As she darted about the shop, as he tried to catch her, she threw everything at him she could lay her hands on—tarts, crystallized fruit, wet confects, dry confects, cream cakes, and followed it all up by hurling a whole regiment of marzipan soldiers at his head.
“Be damned to you,” he shouted, blinded by cream and pastry. He scrubbed the mess from his face and strode to the door, opened it, and marched out into the street.
A large apple pie caught him right on the back of the head.
He hailed a passing hack and climbed in.
Henrietta sat down amid the wreck of her confectionery, amid the wreck of her dreams, and cried her eyes out. She was still sitting there, sobbing, when Charlotte, Josephine, and Miss Hissop came back.
Bitterly she sobbed out her tale of the earl’s iniquities. Josephine and Charlotte began to cry as well. There was no doubt in their minds that Mr. Clifford and Lord Charles had the same low ideas about them. Just like Mr. Clifford and Lord Charles, the earl had appeared to show Henrietta every respect and attention before this last terrible visit. The stigma of being in trade weighed heavily on their souls. It stopped Josephine and Charlotte from thinking clearly. The attentions of such great personages as Lord Charles and Mr. Clifford had always seemed too good to be true.
