Louisa Elliott

by Ann Victoria Roberts

  With a wry smile, she looked away. Of course he would know it: with his background, Robert could probably place half the gentry in England. The knowledge distanced her. ‘And you, Robert – where will you be?’

  ‘Ireland, possibly for two weeks. But I shall follow your advice – spend more time with my daughter, and ignore the rest. I may even take Letty and Georgina up to Dublin.’

  Tentatively, she said: ‘Tommy was worried about you going to White Leigh…’

  ‘Tommy fusses like a mother hen,’ Robert replied, an edge to his voice. ‘He doesn’t know what’s passed between us.’ He went into the dressing-room and returned with his forage cap. ‘It’s you I’m worried about. Promise me you’ll write tomorrow – and give me your address in Blankney.’ Suddenly, his eyes softened, and he took her hands in his. ‘Now, tell me – are you sure you’ll be all right?’

  With a brave smile, she reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘I will be – and I will write. But you must go, or you’ll be late. Goodbye, Robert, and thank you. For everything.’

  As they parted, his eyes shone bright with emotion. ‘Not goodbye, Louisa — never say goodbye.’

  Twenty-one

  She wasted time by walking slowly along the riverside, sat for a while in the gardens by Skeldergate Bridge, then, as the first shops began to open, went into town to purchase some vanishing cream and face powder. Making a detour to the railway station, in the privacy of the ladies’ waiting room Louisa tried to disguise the worst of her bruises. The cream vanished on her skin, but did not take the bruises with it; however, the powder helped a little.

  Her mother’s near-sightedness was a blessing, and fortunately Bessie was out when Louisa arrived. Saying she wanted to talk to her mother in private, she retreated to the parlour, carefully keeping her back to the light. Some minutes later, having dropped the bombshell of her dismissal, she found it impossible not to tell the truth about Albert Tempest.

  ‘I’ll tell you why in a minute, Mamma. But you must promise me – and I mean it, swear on the Holy Bible – you won’t say a word of this to Edward.’

  ‘Very well, dear, I promise – I don’t need a bible. Now please tell me.’

  Briefly, Louisa related the events of the afternoon, and with surprising calm went on to describe the argument which had erupted when she returned to Blossom Street with Rachel and Victoria. Only as she reached the point where Albert Tempest locked her in the drawing room did she break down in sobs. She was thankful then, for Mary Elliott did not need words to understand what had happened next. Haltingly, between sobs, she reassured her mother – as she had with Robert – that she had managed to escape before Tempest achieved his intent.

  Comforted, praised for her bravery, she felt like a child in her mother’s arms. But then she had to explain where she had been overnight.

  Aghast, her mind reeling from one shock to another, Mary Elliott was temporarily speechless. ‘Good God in Heaven!’ she exclaimed at last. ‘You mean after all that, you went to the Barracks? You spent the night there?’

  ‘No, not at the Barracks. Robert shares a house in Fulford. Apart from his servant, no one else knew I was there.’

  Bemused and shaken, the older woman stared at her daughter, shattered not just by the facts, which were appalling enough, but by her daughter’s behaviour. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’ she demanded.

  ‘Probably,’ Louisa sniffed, wiping her eyes. ‘But I swear to you, nothing happened between us. Nothing untoward, I promise. Robert gave me his bed, and he spent the night in his dressing-room.’

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ Mary Elliott prayed, covering her face with her hands. ‘You told him, of course? About – about Albert Tempest, I mean?’

  ‘Mamma, I hardly needed to – it was obvious.’

  ‘And how did he take it?’

  ‘Well, naturally, he was upset.’

  ‘But – I don’t understand. How did all this come about? Why didn’t you come home?’

  ‘I couldn’t! Not with Edward here. Don’t you see?’

  ‘But what on earth possessed you to go there?’ Mary Elliott demanded. ‘You could have gone to Emily – even Blanche would have found room for you, under the circumstances! How foolish of you – you, of all people! I’d never have believed it possible!’

  Louisa sighed and turned away, unwilling to admit that she had not thought of her sisters.

  ‘Have you been seeing him? The Captain, I mean.’

  ‘No. Not since that Saturday he came here.’

  ‘So why now?’

  Louisa’s cheeks flamed with sudden guilt. ‘I... can’t explain. Really, I can’t.’

  For a long moment her mother gazed and said nothing. It seemed she saw rather more than Louisa wished to reveal. ‘Do you intend to go on seeing him?’

  ‘No, I’m going to Blankney,’ Louisa declared. ‘I just want to get away from here.’

  ‘Well I hope he doesn’t come calling on me while you’re away!’

  ‘Oh, Mamma — it wasn’t his fault! Anyway, he won’t come here. He’s going home on leave to Ireland — and I’ve no idea when he’ll be back.’

  Mary Elliott gave a grunt of satisfaction. ‘Best place for him, if you ask me. I sincerely hope he has a busy round of engagements to take his mind off you. There’s no future there – you realize that? He couldn’t marry you, Louisa, even if he wanted to — his family would never allow it.’ She paused as another, more disturbing thought struck her. ‘I just hope Albert Tempest never gets wind of this, that’s all.’ With a shudder, she stood up, nervously smoothing her apron. ‘Now — what am I to tell Bessie? And Edward when he comes in?’

  Out of the depths of her anxiety, when Bessie returned Mary Elliott managed to gather sufficient wit to tell their old servant the barest of truths. It was fortunate that Bessie regarded the disgrace of dismissal cause enough for her mistress’s grey face and Louisa’s desire to keep to her room. Remembering that Emily was to have called for tea, her mother sent a note putting her off; there was enough to contend with, without inviting further inquisitions.

  The real problem was Edward. Unworldly thought he was, where Louisa was concerned he was perhaps just a little too shrewd not to suspect that something was very much amiss. When he came in at half-past twelve, Mary Elliott made sure that she was too busy to talk, answering his query with the brief information that Louisa had a headache and was lying down.

  It was extremely hot in the kitchen. Hanging up his jacket, Edward went out into the back yard, inhaling the scent of herbs ranged in pots along the wall. Purple sage and green marjoram, a spiky bush of rosemary and three varieties of mint were outfaced by the fiery red of poppies growing wherever there was soil. He pulled a few sprigs of fading lavender, absently crushing them between his fingers, thinking of Louisa, lying upstairs in the hottest part of the house. She should have been outside, he thought, sitting in the shade. Perhaps he would bring out a chair for her later, and read to her; she always enjoyed that.

  He took his place at the kitchen table, his aunt strangely uncommunicative as Bessie served their dinner. After they had eaten, Mary Elliott suggested a cup of tea in the parlour.

  With her opening words, she came straight to the point. ‘Prepare yourself for a shock, Edward dear. I’m afraid Albert Tempest has given Louisa the sack.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Oh, it’s quite unreasonable. Something to do with that spoiled brat of a daughter misbehaving herself. Not even that, really,’ she added with a weary sigh. ‘He doesn’t like the company she keeps, and has accused Louisa of encouraging her. I gather there was an almighty row last night – Rachel said Arthur Bainbridge had asked her to marry him, and that set the sparks flying. Louisa tried to defend both herself and the girl…’ She stopped suddenly, closing her eyes against the unfortunate dual meaning of that phrase, then continued as firmly as she could. ‘Anyway, he didn’t like it, and dismissed Louisa on the spot — no references, nothing.’

  ‘Arthur Bainbrid
ge? Didn’t Louisa say she’d tried to talk to the old man about that? I’m sure she’s mentioned it before.’

  ‘Yes, she tried to tell him what was going on, but he wouldn’t listen. And now she’s got the blame for it.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Of course it is, but what can she do? She’s extremely upset about it.’

  ‘Well,’ Edward said sharply, ‘I don’t know what she can do, but I shall certainly speak to him. He can be hot-tempered and hasty – no doubt come Monday he’ll have had chance to think things over and will probably be sorry.’

  Inwardly, Mary Elliott quailed. Pressing her hands together to still their trembling, she shook her head firmly. ‘I don’t think so, Edward, and Louisa is far too upset to accept the job, even if he apologized.’

  ‘She should have references, Aunt Mary, if nothing else!’

  With a shrug of her shoulders, his aunt sighed. ‘Look, dear, if I were you, I wouldn’t bother. Leave things as they are — she doesn’t want any fuss.’

  ‘But what about your education?’ he demanded of Louisa. ‘And all those years of experience?’

  The room was still shrouded against sunlight, but Louisa watched her cousin anxiously as he paced the room. She felt exhausted, but his words provoked a small spark of anger. ‘And what use has it been to me? I’m nearly twenty-six years old, Edward, and what am I fit for, apart from looking after other people’s children?’ Bitterness made her add: ‘I’d have been better off as a nursemaid — at least I wouldn’t have been educated out of my class!’

  Edward spun round to face her. ‘How can you say that? It was what you always wanted. Nobody stood over you and made you do it. You were the one who wanted to get away from York – to bury the past.’

  ‘So I came back, and had it resurrected for me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Afraid that Edward would notice the marks on her face, Louisa turned away from his searching gaze. Fresh recollections of Albert Tempest knotted her stomach, and set her whole body trembling. ‘I’ll tell you. The so-called gentleman you’ve worked for all these years reminded me of my past in a most unpleasant fashion. He dragged it all up, Edward — Tanner Row, the scandal — everything. He even brought your name into it. So, after that, I’m afraid I wouldn’t work for him if he came crawling to me on bended knees, apologizing all the way. References or no – I’ve finished. As long as I can keep body and soul together, I really don’t care what I do for a living.’

  That Albert Tempest knew of their respective backgrounds was no surprise; nevertheless, Edward felt the chill of personal betrayal, as though his employer had returned the years of faithful service with a sneering laugh. It shocked him because he always thought of Albert Tempest as an honourable man. Of a kind, he amended. A fair employer, at least.

  ‘Exactly what did he say to you?’

  Aware that she had perhaps revealed too much, Louisa struggled for an adequate reply, a reply that required the fewest lies. To tell the truth, to quote him directly, would mean explaining so much more.

  Summoning shreds of calm, she said: ‘He implied that a person of my unfortunate background was quite unfit to look after his children.’

  ‘Nonsense. He must have known your background all along!’

  ‘Of course he knew. But I’ve come to the conclusion that in Albert Tempest’s book, it’s a question of what suits him best at the time. You must have realized that.’

  ‘But what did he actually say, Louisa?’

  Stubbornly, she shook her head. ‘I refuse to repeat it. It would serve no purpose — except to make you as angry as I am.’

  Poised on the verge of argument, he turned away, and with a shrug, conceded defeat. He knew that look, that tone of voice. Further questions would be a waste of breath. ‘I shall at least demand that he gives you a reference,’ he said quietly.

  ‘You’ll demand nothing, Edward!’ Leaping up, she caught at his arm. ‘Do you hear me – nothing! If you want to keep your job, forget this. Forget what I’ve told you — forget there’s any connection between us.’ Seeing his pained astonishment, she added more gently: ‘Pretend it never happened — please. That’s the way I want it — no fuss, no recriminations, nothing.’

  Uneasily, and certain that much was being withheld, Edward slowly nodded. Her lack of trust hurt him deeply, preventing further probes.

  With regard to Albert Tempest he felt personally aggrieved. It would be impossible to raise the subject and still go on working for the man. An outburst of self-righteous anger – gratifying though it may be – would surely mean dismissal, and jobs were not so plentiful that he could afford the risk. For the time being at least, Edward reasoned, he must swallow his ire. With an exasperated sigh, he looked long and searchingly at his cousin before turning away.

  As she heard him close the door of his own room, Louisa squeezed her eyes tight shut, hating herself for lying to him. Even if it was simply by omission, he knew; and after his support and kindness in recent weeks it was unforgiveable.

  Bit by bit she had conveyed something of her feelings for Robert Duncannon, although, as with her mother, she had baulked at the ultimate reason for rejecting him. Edward had listened, his comments restricted to simple confirmation that she had done the right thing. Louisa suspected he had little liking for Robert Duncannon, but whether it was personal or a simple matter of distrusting his motives, she could not have said. Reflecting on that, it seemed strange to Louisa that Edward should dislike Robert, a man of integrity, even while he defended the despicable Albert Tempest.

  Shuddering at the images which leapt to mind, she curled up, trying to blot them out. And yet she could not escape the fact that in one violent moment, every single aspect of her life had changed. With all the sudden and concentrated force of a tornado, the night before had scattered the carefully-built bricks of her defences against Robert, and damaged, probably beyond repair, her relationship with Edward. What her mother thought, she could scarcely begin to guess.

  Squirming with shame, Louisa knew she had to get away from them all, physically as much as mentally. The peace and tranquility of Blankney, with its rolling fields and open skies, beckoned like a seductive dream.

  Twenty-two

  Enlisting the help of Harris, Robert had Albert Tempest watched.

  Twelve years of army life had given him a deeper insight into the baser forms of human nature than Louisa would have cared to know, and a deviousness in dealing with it which was not entirely gentlemanly. For half the night he had entertained a fantasy in which he unsheathed his sword and terrified the life out of Albert Tempest with swirling, slashing, expert strokes, strokes which merely touched the skin, opening breast and back in a thousand cuts. Tempting in a way; but Robert had no desire to ruin his own career. From the depths of his contempt, he realized that a man like Albert Tempest must seek an outlet for his appetites somehow, somewhere. Robert found nothing incongruous in the idea of a staunch chapel-goer taking his pleasure with a prostitute.

  It merely remained to find out where he went, and when. Each evening that week, Harris took the tram to Blossom Street and watched the doorway of the Tempest house from the saloon bar of the Windmill. There were few comings and goings, but on Wednesday night Albert Tempest emerged, his impeccably-dressed figure unmistakable. He did not go far. Harris followed him at a discreet distance into Priory Street, to the Wesleyan Chapel hall, and, with a shrug of disappointment settled down to wait, thankful for the fine summer evening.

  He could not help but wonder at the Captain’s motives, sending him out on this wild goose chase; unless the camp-bed had been a blind, and the young woman really was his mistress. Harris was sure the Captain would have liked her to be, no matter how hard he tried to disguise it. The whole situation intrigued him, yet no matter how often he went over his sparse accumulation of facts, no satisfactory explanation presented itself.

  A shy man, his personal experience was limited to occasional halting conversations w
ith shop girls, or even less frequent forays in search of sex. But that was always a straightforward business, for which he was prepared to pay. Anything in between was sadly foreign to him. From loose talk amongst his peers, Harris believed that women who were raped or assaulted almost invariably asked for it, and it was hard for him to reconcile such assumptions with what he had seen of Louisa Elliott.

  Decent and respectable he would have said, and with a living to earn; he could not imagine a young woman like her giving any man come-hither looks, not unless she meant it. And whether marriage was part of the bargain or not, with Robert Duncannon on offer, why would she give the other miserable-looking old sod more than the time of day?

  An old goat, the Captain had called him, unable to have a woman under his roof without wanting her in his bed. Well, there were standards, after all. Break the rules and you deserved what was coming. Harris stubbed out another cigarette, and continued his watch.

  At dusk, the old goat left his religious meeting and went straight home. There was nothing at all to report on Thursday, but on Friday evening, just after sunset, Albert Tempest again set off towards town. With a quickening pulse, Harris watched his quarry pass Priory Street and continue across the city.

  The house was in a quiet, respectable quarter off Bootham, and had it not been for a furtive glance up and down the street, Harris might have been deceived. That one look, however, was enough to make him suspicious, and in the hour of his watch, three other equally well-dressed men approached the house and were let in by a tiny maidservant who could not have been more than twelve. An hour later, Harris slipped into the shelter of an alley as Albert Tempest was shown out again, and discreetly followed him back to Blossom Street.

  After his return on Wednesday evening, the house had been locked up for the night. But this Friday evening was different. The maid was waiting for him at the door; lamps were lit upstairs, and from his position across the street, Harris could see the man moving from room to room. Intrigued, he continued his surveillance. When Albert Tempest re-emerged, Harris hurriedly stamped out his cigarette and followed. In Nunnery Lane, his quarry stopped a passing hansom; lack of a second cab stopped Harris from dogging him further, but he had been close enough to hear the destination given.