Eleanor squared her shoulders and faced them. “What is it?”
Gently, he squeezed Vivian’s hand. “Please do not think I am a simpleton, Mrs. Wentworth. Although your daughter has not been to places like these, I certainly have, and I highly doubt she will feel comfortable here.”
Pink highlighted the older woman’s cheeks, but she remained standing firm. “My apologies. I don’t think you’re a simpleton at all. I brought you here only to hide you. I don’t think your uncle will look for you here.”
Pain welled in Vivian’s chest. What were they talking about, and why was Anton so leery? Once again, she took a quick look around the hallway, then into the nearest room. The only thing out of the ordinary was the couples who cuddled up to each other in an improper fashion.
Laughter from up the stairs drew her attention. Another woman and man came into view. The man’s shirt hung open as he stuffed his shirttails into his trousers, and the woman...the woman wore the most indecent nightdress Vivian had ever seen. The very short gown exposed the woman’s bare limbs, and the deep cut in the bodice displayed most of the woman’s full bosom.
Vivian gasped as her hand flew to her mouth. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and finally pieces fit together in her mother and Anton’s conversation.
Jerking her head around to Anton, she blinked. “Is this a...whorehouse?”
His lips stayed in a thin line when he nodded. “Actually, this facility is considered a brothel since it is fancier, and the clientele is on a higher scale, as well.”
She hissed and swung her focus to her mother, still on the stairs standing proud and rigid. “How dare you!” Vivian accused.
Eleanor’s mouth tugged into a frown as tears glistened on her eyelashes. “Please come with me, and I will explain. We need not air our discussion in front of these people.”
Anton leaned down to Vivian’s ear. “She is right,” he whispered. “We need to go to a room posthaste. We should not give these people a reason to ask questions.”
Stiffly, Vivian nodded. “Then make it quick, because I wish to hear my mother’s explanation for this very soon before I give her a piece of my mind.”
Grabbing handfuls of her skirt, Eleanor lifted it to her ankles as she hurried up the stairs, Anton and Vivian close behind.
Agony wrenched from her chest and disappointment settled in her stomach. Her mother had lowered herself to this kind of life? What happened to the wealthy man she’d run away with and left her family for? Then again, Vivian’s father had mentioned passion ruled her mother. Did he know she’d been reduced to living in a brothel before he had died?
Eleanor led them all the way down the hall then opened a door with a key. Vivian half expected to find a man and woman on the bed. Instead, an empty room greeted her. The furnishings looked to be as expensive as the ones downstairs. Everything had been straightened and dusted. The large bed in the far corner against the wall had beautiful covers and matching pillowcases, and red scarves draped along the posts. Armoires and trunks lined the walls, and nearest to the door sat a mahogany desk with a Chippendale chair.
Obviously, her mother lived in luxury. Why would she regret leaving her poor family when she had all this?
Eleanor closed the door behind them and leaned against the solid oak. Silence filled the room until Anton cleared his throat and shifted in his stance, obviously uncomfortable.
“Why...why did you bring us here?” Vivian asked.
“This is the only place I could hide you.”
Vivian glanced around the room again. “Do you actually live here?”
Eleanor lowered her head. “Yes,” she whispered.
Emotion clogged Vivian’s throat, and she dared not to speak, but she needed answers. The pain of betrayal cut a hole in her heart that had to be fixed.
“Well, I appreciate your help, Eleanor,” Vivian said with a tight voice, “but we won’t be staying long. As soon as it gets dark, we’ll be gone.”
Eleanor’s bottom lip trembled, but she didn’t lift her head.
Anton rubbed Vivian’s arm, and she looked up into the comfort of his gaze. He offered a soft smile and kissed her forehead. “I think you and your mother need to talk. I shall wait outside.”
She grabbed his arm. “No, don’t—”
“Not to worry, my love. I will keep a sharp eye for any of my uncle’s men. Right now, you and your mother need some privacy.”
He kissed her again before stepping out. Emptiness gathered in her heart from his absence as worry tried to fill the space. She really didn’t want to be alone with her mother, yet, how else would she know the reasons her mother left all those years ago?
Heaving a ragged breath, she turned and walked to the window, looking out into the yard. Green bushes and a rainbow of flowers colored the lovely landscape. Too bad appearances were so deceiving.
“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you,” Eleanor said.
Vivian shrugged. “I would think you’d worry about disappointing yourself.” She looked over her shoulder at the woman. “This is not the kind of profession one is proud of.”
“Don’t you think I know this?” Eleanor walked closer, but stopped at the foot of the bed. “Do you honestly believe I chose this lifestyle?”
Vivian let out a short, unladylike snort. “Are you trying to tell me you were forced into it?”
Sighing heavily, Eleanor sank to the bed and covered her face. “No, I wasn’t forced. I just didn’t have any choice.”
“I beg to differ, Eleanor. Everybody has a choice.”
When Eleanor lifted her head, tears spiked her eyelashes. “As a young girl, my family was very poor. My father died, and my mother had a hard time keeping the family fed. She worked as a maid for a wealthy family, but she still struggled.”
From her pocket, she withdrew a white handkerchief and wiped underneath her nose, then dabbed her eyes. “One day, the man who my mother worked for approached me. He said he knew a way I could make money. Lots of money. He said I was the perfect age.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“What happened?”
“He took me to a brothel, grander in fact than this one.” She swept her hand through the air. “He introduced me to the Madame, who then explained to me that because of my class, I would never make enough money—the kind to help out my family, that is. But if I worked for her, she would dress me in silks and jewels, and men would fall at my feet. I agreed. At the time, my brother was very sick, and we had no money for a doctor.”
Eleanor sniffed and wiped her eyes again, still keeping her gaze on the floor. “Little did I know at the time, but the man had sold me to this Madame. Once I realized what they expected of me, it was too late. I was already one of Madame Flora’s girls.”
She waited a few minutes. Silence surrounded them, except for her sniffles. Then she lifted her head and looked directly at Vivian. “I made a living doing that for two years. I hated every minute of it, but I couldn’t leave.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know how. One day while in the marketplace, I met a man passing through town. He didn’t know about me, and I wasn’t about to divulge the truth. After that, I met him secretly for two weeks, and he proposed. I lied and told him I didn’t have a family. I also told him I worked as a maid.”
Eleanor took a deep breath. “So I married him and left with him that very day, back to where he lived, which was far away from the brothel. That was the happiest time of my life. I was thrilled when I had his children, and I loved my family completely.”
Tears threatened Vivian’s eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. Her throat tightened with sorrow, so she swallowed, not allowing her emotions to take over. Turning, she leaned against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. “Then why did you leave us?”
“My world came to an end when one of my former customers recognized me with your father. The man walked up to us on the street and asked where I’d been all these years. He asked if I was now giving my favors
to your father. I tried to cover it up with lies, but your father’s curiosity got the better of him, and he sought answers. It nearly killed me to have your father look at me with accusing eyes. He was ashamed of me. He told me I didn’t deserve to be his wife, and the mother of his children, so he ordered me to leave.”
Vivian’s heart slammed in her chest, and she bolted away from the wall. “What?” At her sides, she fisted her hands. “You’re telling me Father instructed you to leave your own children?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Eleanor, but that’s hard to believe. What father would do that to his children?”
Sobs took over Eleanor, and she cried into her handkerchief. “It’s the truth,” she muttered. “I never wanted to leave you.” She lifted her head and met Vivian’s eyes again. “In fact, I wouldn’t leave, but your father became very forceful, and his words crushed my heart. He was right. Because of what I’d done, I wasn’t good enough to be a mother to my children.”
Vivian’s head throbbed as confusion filled her. Who should she believe? Then again, her mother’s story did sound plausible. Vivian never understood why her mother had chosen to leave the family and run off with a wealthy man. And her father had been very angry with his wife. Hearing her mother’s story, it started to make sense. Even her father’s words had meaning. No wonder he’d referred to her mother as a whore.
Vivian covered her ears and closed her eyes. Tears built up behind her eyelids, but she refused to shed them. Pain burst in her chest, crumbling her defenses and making her heart ache even more. She wanted to rush to her mother and have her hold her like she used to a long time ago. She wanted to return to yesteryear before her mother left...before Vivian’s life had been ripped apart.
“I’ll give you some time to think,” Eleanor said. “I need to make certain our lunch is prepared anyway.”
Soft footsteps padded toward the door, and it wasn’t until the door shut that Vivian allowed the tears to come forth. She fell on the bed and cried her heart out.
Suddenly two strong hands lifted her and pressed her against the solid chest of a man. She breathed in Anton’s scent of spice and wrapped her arms around his waist. Together they lay on the bed. He stroked her hair as she sobbed into his shirt. His soothing strokes calmed her, and soon she felt as weak as a newborn lamb.
Heaviness weighed her eyes, and she let sleep consume her.
* * * *
The woman in Anton’s arms moved against him, bringing him awake and very alert. He pulled back enough to look at Vivian’s face. Her eyelids lazily fluttered open as she met his stare. Thankfully, the puffiness had disappeared from her tears last night. Poor girl had been through so much, and holding her was the only way he could think to comfort.
She smiled and snuggled closer. “Morning.”
“Good morning, querida.” He kissed her forehead. “How do you feel today?”
It took only a few moments before her memory returned because soon her gaze clouded over with hurt and anger. She glanced around the room and her smile turned into a scowl. “Where are we?” She pushed away and sat up on her elbows. “We are still in my mother’s room?”
“Sí.”
“Where is my...Eleanor?”
“She slept in another room.”
Vivian cringed, then quickly hopped off the bed. Swiping her hands up and down her arms, she shivered. “I can’t believe I slept in her bed, knowing she’s done...those things on this very mattress.”
Anton rolled to the side of the bed then stood. He stretched his cramped arms and legs before walking toward Vivian. “Querida, let me tell you something I am certain you do not understand about brothels.” When he reached her, he cupped her chin, and her eyes met with his. “Your mother is a Madame, which means she does not sleep with men for money any longer.”
Vivian’s forehead creased. “Are you certain?”
He shrugged and pulled away. “From what I have seen from other brothels, that is the way it works. By the time a woman makes it to Madame, she does not need to make a living in this way. This is now her business, and she runs it like an owner of an establishment would. Most Madame’s I have met are very professional.”
Vivian grumbled, turned away, and stormed to the window. “It doesn’t matter how professional my mother is. The fact remains, she is still a whore.”
Anton released a heavy sigh. Vivian hurt, and he knew not how to help. It was understandable she would be so upset over the news of her mother’s profession. He only hoped Vivian would soon soften her heart and find room to forgive.
He had known several whores in the past few years, and they lived a very hard life. Women did not choose this, they were forced into it. If only he could help Vivian see this. But, now was not the time, and he couldn’t push. Her wounds were still too fresh.
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he stepped to the small washbasin on the oak drawers. Water had been added to the pitcher, probably when they were still asleep, so he poured a generous amount in the basin and splashed the cool liquid on his face. Washing his hair was important, but that might have to be put off for a while. He needed a bath, but that too, would have to wait, at least until after he talked with Eleanor about their room and board.
He didn’t know how staying at a brothel could be that safe. True, most men who came here were not looking for people on the run—Juanito’s men or not—so Anton might be safe for a few days or even a week. Either way, he’d keep a sharp eye on the men who frequented the brothel.
As he scrubbed his hands over his two-day old beard, he looked in the mirror. Time to change appearances, again. While they stayed at the brothel, he couldn’t wear his fancy clothes or dress like he wanted. Instead, looking like a peasant might work better. So, as much as Vivian loved his clean-shave the other day, he would have to grow out his beard and have the scruffy look.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. She would have to change, too. He didn’t want her in a boy’s disguise nor did he want her dressing like a whore and having men think she’d give them her favors. That might cause a brawl, with Anton doing the punching. She would have to be a peasant just as he would.
It was better that way. They’d both be able to get out of the house and walk around in peace, as long as he made certain his uncle’s men did not spot them. Didn’t need others to become curious, either.
In a couple of days, he had to search out his niňera, Lucinda. Now that he knew Juanito’s men were looking for him, he had to stay low and out of sight. Anton prayed they didn’t find Lucinda first. Then again, not many people knew about her.
Soft hands touched his back and caressed up to his shoulders. Smiling, he turned and looked at Vivian. Sadness still marred her beauty, which made his heart wrench.
“Anton? I would rather not speak to my mother right now, but I fear my stomach is eating a hole through my backbone. Would you be so kind as to get us some breakfast?”
He cupped her face and kissed her sweet lips briefly. “Sí, my love. I, too, find myself very hungry. I will wander downstairs to the kitchen to see what I can throw together.”
Her eyes widened. “You are going to make breakfast?”
“Sí. I am not afraid of cooking.”
She cuddled her face against his hand. “You continue to amaze me.”
“Good. I hope I will never stop.”
As he made his way downstairs toward the kitchen, the house remained quiet. As it should be since everyone would be sleeping off their wild nights and spirits and passion. Not too long ago, he’d been one of these men who’d visited brothels much too often. Never again. Now he wanted more out of life. He wanted Vivian to be his wife and bear their children. He wanted to share their lives together. Forever.
He entered the kitchen to the heavenly aroma of scones and eggs. Eleanor stood by the oven stirring a spoon in a pan. Her shoulders slumped, and the wilted expression on her face tore at his heart. Because he’d known whores and he’d seen the way they lived, he could sympathize with them. If only Vi
vian would forgive her mother and mend the ties.
But it wasn’t up to him. Although he wanted nothing more than to take the pain away, Vivian had to deal with this on her own.
The floor squeaked, and Eleanor swung around, her eyes wide. Then she relaxed and smiled.
“Good morning. Are you and Vivian hungry?”
“That is why I am here.”
“Let me prepare your plates. I’m afraid my cook has come down with a cold, so I’m helping her.”
“No, Mrs. Wentworth. You do not have to wait on me.”
“Anton,” she said as her smiled disappeared. “Please call me Eleanor. I haven’t been called Mrs. Wentworth since...” Her eyes misted with tears. “For quite some time.”
“As you wish.”
She fixed the plates of food. Silence only lasted a few minutes then she cleared her throat. “Did you and Vivian sleep well last night?”
“Sí. Your hospitality has been most generous.”
She turned with two plates in her hands. “I’m grateful you think so, although my daughter may have a different opinion.”
“True.”
Eleanor handed him the plates, then shrugged. “I’m very happy you let me talk with her, though. Now she knows the truth.”
“I am very sorry for what happened. I know Vivian was hurt terribly, and I pray she forgives you soon. I know what it is like to carry a grudge for a long time. My mother did that with my father, and it kept them apart for almost fifteen years.”
She smiled and touched his arm. “You are good for my daughter. I can tell she loves you very much.”
His heart melted. “I love your daughter with all my heart. I will try to make her happy.”
“You will.” She nodded.
“Eleanor, we will need clothes for our new disguises. Both Vivian and I will need to dress as servants. Can you get these clothes for us?”
“Yes. I’ll get them right away.”
“Gracias.”
“And, feel free to take a walk around the estate. It is very secluded, and there’s a pond out back a ways. I must say it’s very lovely.”
The Spanish Outlaw Page 19
