Louisa Elliott

by Ann Victoria Roberts

  ‘What’s this, then?’ The voice had less power, but the man’s basic contempt was clearly audible. ‘What half-baked notion prompted this? Where’s your sense of duty, man? I’ve employed you all these years, and in the midst of grief and sickness, you threaten to walk out! I suppose you’re after more money?’

  ‘I want nothing from you,’ Edward said quietly, but with such emphasis that Albert Tempest’s head came up, eyes narrowing. ‘The letter is my notice of resignation, to which I believe you are legally entitled.’

  The mind behind the eyes continued to calculate, then suddenly changed tack; attempting a hearty laugh, he said: ‘Nay, Edward, you’re not serious! What’s this “legally entitled” nonsense? You worked alongside me twenty years back – when the old man was still alive. Surely we know each other better than this?’

  ‘We don’t know each other at all, Mr Tempest.’ As his anger rose, Edward’s hands threatened to betray him; he clasped them behind his back.

  Astounded, confused, his adversary stared up at him open-mouthed. For a moment it seemed he would struggle to his feet, but the effort was too much. ‘But you can’t leave now! I need you, for a few more weeks, anyway. Whatever it is you’re planning, Elliott, surely it’ll wait,’ he demanded pettishly, ‘until I’m back on my feet again. Anyway,’ he added, the eyes narrowing in fresh calculation, ‘what’s brought all this on?’

  The question had come, as he had known it would. Edward felt a surge of satisfaction so powerful he almost laughed. ‘Do you honestly want to know?’ he demanded. A swift step forward and he saw fear leap in those yellowed, foxy eyes. ‘Be glad I’m leaving you to it,’ he said grimly. ‘Be glad of your sick and sorry state. Death’s laid a hand on you already – he doesn’t need me to finish you off!’

  Edward leaned on the desk, and the grey, sagging face recoiled. ‘Yes! I can see your fear, and smell it! Did you enjoy the fear in Louisa’s eyes? Did you stop to pity her, a defenceless woman, under your roof, and your protection?’

  ‘Not so defenceless,’ Albert Tempest stuttered, and Edward reached for him, ready to drag him bodily from the chair. With an effort he stopped himself.

  ‘No, thank God! But that absolves nothing. You would have satisfied your lust on her if you could!’

  ‘She tempted me — ‘

  ‘Tempted you? Tempted you, an old man? Oh, your vanity amazes me!’ With a harsh laugh, Edward shook his head. ‘No, what tempted you was a titillating bit of scandal so old it should have crumbled years ago. But you hung onto it, didn’t you? Until it might prove useful. With your taste for dirt and perversion, you never forgot. You couldn’t resist raking it up, could you?’

  ‘I never said a word!’ he expostulated. ‘It was only to keep her quiet — I swear it!’

  ‘You disgust me!’ Edward spat out. ‘And I thought you an honest, upright man!’ His contempt was blistering. ‘But I promise you this: I’ll do all in my power to hurt you where you’ll feel it most – in your pocket! I think you’ll find you won’t have your special customers long!’

  The cowering figure behind the desk roused itself malevolently. ‘What makes you think you’ll have any customers?’ Tempest sneered. ‘By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll wish you’d kept your mouth shut! She’s just a whore – I said it and she’s proved it! Taken on with that fancy Dragoon. Friend of the family, he calls himself — some friend,’ he sneered. ‘It’s all over York already, or so my Rachel tells me.’

  Hatred grabbed Edward by the throat. For a moment he had difficulty breathing. Knowing only a desire to see Albert Tempest in hell, he desperately resisted an urge to hit out, to go on smashing that gloating face until it could speak no more.

  A feeble hand flapped, as though to fend him off.

  ‘And what about your Friday night appointment at Mrs Dodsworth’s? Or had you forgotten that? Plenty of whores there, I gather! Tell me,’ he ground out with contempt, ‘how will you feel when that’s all over York?’

  Albert Tempest gasped and choked, half-rose to his feet and then subsided, dragging frantically at his collar. Veins at neck and temple pulsed and throbbed, purple lips gabbled for speech.

  Appalled and disgusted, Edward turned on his heel, shocked to see the door open, a ring of goggling faces peering in. With a tremendous effort, he pulled himself together.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ he said tersely, ‘one of you get in there and loosen his collar. And you’d better send someone for his doctor.’

  With that, he went through to the privy in the back yard and was violently sick.

  It seemed an age before the doctor came. Afterwards, he entered Edward’s tiny office, a small, spare man, elderly but with the brightness of youth in his eyes. ‘You had an argument, I believe? Do you mind me asking what it was about?’

  ‘I sent him a letter of resignation,’ Edward replied, aware of a tremor in his voice. ‘He came in today to challenge it. I’m afraid the matter became very personal.’

  The doctor shrugged. ‘Not your fault, I dare say. Mr Tempest had a most choleric disposition. But still,’ he added, ‘I suppose you’ll know that better than I do. I warned him a year or so back — when his wife died, you know. He had a turn then. Take it easy, I told him, sell the business.’ The old man shook his head in wonderment at other men’s folly. ‘Wouldn’t listen though. They never do.’

  ‘Will he live?’

  ‘After a fashion. Of course, he won’t walk again, and I doubt he’ll speak.’ With a thin, dry smile, the doctor doffed his hat. ‘Well, must be off.’

  Almost as an afterthought, he paused at the door. ‘Don’t blame yourself, young man — this could have happened any time. Those who live by the sword, you know...’

  As the doctor let himself out, Edward began to laugh.

  Nineteen

  In soft, dusky pink, Louisa stood by the window arranging roses in a shallow bowl. From tight little buds to full-blown blooms, each subtle tint echoed the colour she wore, and against the light her hair formed a burnished aureole.

  She turned slightly, and her cheeks were flushed with pleasure.

  ‘Where on earth did you find them? They’re beautiful.’

  ‘Oh, they were growing almost wild in the garden,’ Robert said negligently. ‘I thought you’d like them.’ He leaned back in his chair, long legs stretched out before the empty hearth, silently appraising the lovely picture she made.

  ‘Did you walk all the way from Fulford?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ he said with feeling. ‘It’s far too hot.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ she laughed. ‘You just didn’t want to be seen with a bunch of flowers!’

  His mouth twitched into a smile, but he was reluctant to admit it. ‘You look quite radiant,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps I should bring you roses more often?’

  ‘Perhaps you should,’ she agreed. ‘There’s some fresh lemonade. Would you like a glass?’

  He nodded, following her with his eyes, unconsciously chewing the inside of his lip. She looked better, sounded brighter than she had for almost a month, but there was still that element of constraint. It was almost as though she blamed him for the Tempest child’s unfortunate illness; he supposed, on reflection, that he had not been as sympathetic as she had expected, but it was hard to be less than honest, especially when the Tempests had been such a source of trouble and irritation.

  ‘Edward called the other evening,’ Louisa remarked brightly. ‘But I imagine you’ve heard the news already.’

  And he’s another, Robert thought, recalling Louisa’s air of relief the other day; and all because her cousin was leaving Tempest’s. That name again, he thought with annoyance. Devil take the lot of them!

  ‘What news was that?’

  ‘About Albert Tempest!’ Her lips curved in a self-satisfied smile.

  He shook his head. ‘I haven’t seen Darnley today. Why? Has the old man been struck down by the wrath of God at long last?’

  ‘You might say so,’ she acknowledged, with a cer
tain grim satisfaction. ‘A seizure. Massive, Edward said. He won’t recover.’ She sat down and raised her glass to Robert’s. ‘A pity this isn’t champagne – we should be celebrating!’

  Her sudden laughter was high-pitched, a little too excited, Robert thought. He frowned. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Monday morning. He did the same to Edward as he did to you. Couldn’t resist it, Edward said. Remember the quick character assassination as you turned to leave? He used the same trick on Edward,’ she said contemptuously. ‘But he was prepared for it. I’d told him everything—Mrs Dodsworth’s, the whole story. And Edward flung it all in his face. Imagine,’ she breathed. ‘I wish I’d been there!’

  ‘It’s a damned shame you didn’t tell him at the time,’ Robert commented. He was glad the old goat had been jousted – in fact had wished him dead on more than one occasion. But there was something indecent in her satisfaction, as though something had festered too long. Faintly repelled, he studied his glass and drank deep, wishing it were something stronger.

  ‘So,’ she concluded, ‘after all the ranting and raving, he’ll be confined to his bed, silent and helpless as a baby. How ironic!’ She chuckled with vindictive amusement. ‘I can’t see Rachel nursing him, can you?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ he said, with deceptive softness. ‘She might find a certain twisted pleasure in it, don’t you think?’ With one raised and quizzical eyebrow, he stared long and hard at her.

  Stung, Louisa flushed. ‘If you were a woman, you’d understand!’

  ‘No doubt. But I’m not, and there are certain depths I’d prefer to leave unplumbed.’

  ‘How dare you!’ White now, Louisa leapt to her feet. ‘After what he did to me? You saw the marks — can you wonder at the way I feel?’

  Almost languidly, Robert rose from his chair and went to find the brandy. Pouring a generous measure, he said wearily: ‘So, revenge is sweet, is it? Well, I’m sorry my dear, but it doesn’t become you.’

  ‘Oh, I see. So, for the sake of seeming gentle and kind —and eternally desirable – I must pretend to be sorry, must I? Sorry for that – that grotesque parody of a human being? Is that it? Is that what you want? Pretence?’

  Her voice had risen alarmingly. Wincing, Robert drained his glass. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Louisa, stop it! Please!’ He reached again for the bottle, but before he could pour another measure, her voice, vibrant with sudden anxiety, made him pause.

  ‘Put the brandy down,’ she pleaded. ‘Put it down, and I promise I’ll not say another word on the matter.’

  He held her gaze, and the bottle, for a long, tense moment. Reluctant to give way, he was forced to concede, even to himself, that it was important to do so. Yet again, he was drinking too much, but over the past weeks their relationship had been strained almost to breaking point; he had stayed away on many occasions, making pressure of work and the new drill season his ready excuse. And when he had come, in hopes of reconciliation, she had either made her excuses in bed, or accepted him dumbly. And in less than a month, Robert reminded himself, he would be in Dublin. He was suddenly afraid that perhaps she might refuse to join him.

  Slowly, he replaced the bottle in the cupboard, put his glass down and went to join her.

  ‘Not another word – promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  ‘Can we put all this behind us now? Truly?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  Lifting her chin, Robert looked deep into her eyes, seeing lingering shadows which troubled him. Very tentatively, he kissed her. ‘You know I love you,’ he whispered.

  ‘And I love you, too!’ That little cry, the sudden desperation with which she embraced him, was gratifying. For the first time in weeks she was as eager for love as Robert himself; and afterwards, reassured, he simply lay on his side and watched her.

  It was good to be close again, he thought; it would be better still when he had her safe in Dublin. Now he knew the date of his own departure, he could plan hers; would count the days until he could thankfully close the door on all Tempests and Bainbridges; and, he thought vehemently, on kissing cousins too. Especially those with haunted, love-sick eyes.

  Carefully, he reached for his watch, glancing anxiously at the time. Past five, and later than he thought; another hour and he must be on his way back to Barracks. Reluctant to move, not wanting to disturb her, for a few minutes he watched little motes of dust dancing slow gavottes in a golden beam of sun; then with a gentle squeeze he roused Louisa from sleep, kissing her shoulder as she murmured in protest.

  ‘Sorry, darling, but I have to move. My arm’s dead, I swear it!’ He flexed the fingers of his left hand, wincing as the blood tingled back.

  ‘Time to go?’

  ‘Mmm, soon. It’s a quarter past five.’

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ she exclaimed, gathering the bedclothes around her. ‘I’ve just remembered – Moira’s coming at six!’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I don’t know. She sent a note this morning.’ Pulling on her robe, Louisa began to search for scattered clothes. ‘I expect it’s just a social call, but she’ll be wondering what’s to become of her. Now Albert Tempest’s in hospital, I should think the house will be closed up.’

  With a cynical little laugh, Robert rolled out of bed. ‘Don’t you believe it! Rachel will be in there before the hearth goes cold. It’s a far better house than that poky little villa in Fulford.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid Moira will be out of a job whichever happens. Rachel never did like the poor girl.’

  ‘Why don’t you offer her a job?’ he suggested, adding, as he buttoned his shirt, ‘It’s a long way to Dublin, on your own, and I’m thinking you could use a maid when you get there.’

  ‘Do you mean that?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ Robert laughed. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her lightly. ‘It really is time we changed your thinking, darling. Life in Dublin is going to be rather different from here.’

  For a moment Louisa drew back. ‘Are you sure you’d want Moira?’

  ‘The question is — are you sure you want her? She’ll be your maid.’

  ‘I really hadn’t thought of it.’ Fastening her petticoats, slipping the pretty tea-gown over her head, Louisa’s voice was muffled. ‘She’s a good little Catholic girl, remember?’

  ‘They’re all Catholics in Dublin – just about, anyway. Any Protestant in need of that kind of a job is bound to be too genteel for my taste, I can tell you. Anyway,’ he added to the mirror, adjusting his tie, ‘think about it. Ask her, why don’t you? She might not want to leave York.’

  ‘But however will I explain about you!’

  Robert turned to look at her, his head cocked quizzically. ‘Oh, come now, Louisa, is she really so ignorant? She must know there’s a man about the place. How many times has she been here?’

  With a deflated little sigh, Louisa sat down on the bed. ‘Of course, I really hadn’t thought about that. What must she think?’

  ‘Not a lot, I imagine,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘Why don’t we find out?’

  Robert stayed until Moira arrived. Astonishment banished the weariness in her eyes, and as the introductions were performed she bobbed a curtsey which both amused and charmed him. Taking formal leave of Louisa, he winked mischievously behind the girl’s back and nodded his confidence in the forthcoming interview.

  When he had gone, Moira gave vent to giggles. Louisa tried, unsuccessfully, to keep a straight face, but before long the two of them were laughingly reliving the Captain’s visit to Blossom Street a year ago, and Albert Tempest’s broken teeth.

  ‘Oh, Miss!’ Moira gasped, holding her sides, ‘I’m sorry, I really am! Sure, and I’d no idea! I thought – begging your pardon – there must be somebody. But I’d no idea it was him! Oh, but I’m pleased for you – honest I am. He’s such a lovely gentleman.’

  Laughing again, Louisa shook her head. ‘Don’t be deceived, Moira,’ she said a
t last. ‘He has quite a temper, and doesn’t care to be crossed.’

  ‘Sure, don’t I know that?’

  ‘Make sure you never forget,’ Louisa warned, going on to explain the forthcoming move to Dublin, and Robert’s suggestion that Moira might consider a position with them as lady’s maid.

  Moira would have been grateful for any offer; but such a superior position, subject to a month’s approval with fare paid back to York, was beyond her wildest dreams. Moved almost to tears by Louisa’s generosity, she promised faithfully to work hard and always do her best, and never to mention the Tempests, especially in the Captain’s hearing.

  ‘Because he doesn’t want to be reminded of them ever again,’ Louisa stressed, ‘not even by me.’

  ‘Never,’ Moira breathed earnestly, crossing her breast for good measure. ‘I’ll never say a living word — may I hope to die.’

  ‘Not just yet, I hope,’ Louisa smiled, leaving her chair. ‘Why don’t you start by making us both some tea — you know where everything is. There’s something I must attend to in the other room. Then we can talk about what you’re going to do and where you’ll stay between now and then.’

  In the bedroom, Louisa smiled as she tidied sheets and pillows, glad, despite the compromise, to be back on good terms with Robert. She was also warmed by the thoughtfulness of his suggestion. Obvious though the idea now seemed, it would never have occurred to her. As Robert so often said, she really would have to alter her attitudes. It was good, too, to be able to do something for Moira; although the benefits were by no means one-sided. In spite of her slapdash and often careless ways, the girl was good-hearted and cheerful, never downcast for long. In the strange new world that loomed ahead, Louisa reflected, Moira would provide a much-needed point of familiarity, a link with York and home.