He crossed to the window, and parted the heavy blue velvet curtains. ‘We seem to have a fog coming down, and it’s icy cold, you know. Makes one very glad to be safe and comfortable inside. People freeze to death on the streets quite regularly, and murders are commonplace. I hope you won’t start any nonsense in my house, Ginny, because that would oblige me to call for a constable and have you thrown on to those streets. I doubt you’d find your way to your lodgings on a night like this, and a luscious young woman like you out alone in London – well, I don’t care to think what the consequences might be, and I wouldn’t think of it. I wouldn’t make it my concern. It would be your concern, Ginny.’
‘I would tell the constable what you did to me.’
‘I should deny it, of course. You’re completely unharmed. You could show him no evidence of my harming you in any way, unless a good supper counts as harm. Now what do you imagine a constable would think of a naughty girl who comes alone to supper at a gentleman’s house? This is not Annsdale, my hinny. You would see a constable who has no personal knowledge of you and who would see no evidence other than the ruin of my house. At best, he’d put you out and send you on your way. As I’ve said, I don’t care to think what the consequences of that might be, but you should consider it.’
‘You promised to take me back.’
He shrugged and crossed over to the fire, to lean pensively against the marble mantelpiece. ‘People aren’t always able to keep their promises, with the best will in the world. I don’t wish to go out again myself, and I ask you to remain safe and warm with me as my very welcome guest.’ He stooped to lift a heavy, turned brass poker and begin idly stirring the fire. ‘I don’t share Helen’s low opinion of you, of course. I know you’re a spotless virgin, quite an orphan in the storm. You could bring out the chivalrous instinct in me, if you were more – amenable.’
‘I’ve been told to get a ring on my finger before I let any man do what you want to do,’ she said.
Charlie gave her a reassuring smile. ‘You shall have a ring, and you may call yourself Mrs Parkinson. It will be just as if we are married, honour bright, and we will marry eventually. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind these past six weeks, in spite of your father, or perhaps because of him. You’re a quick learner and you might pass for a duchess before long. I couldn’t marry you as you are now, but I’ll make you if I can, and when you’re my equal, it will be a different thing.’
Even with her senses dulled by alcohol, the thought of being cast adrift friendless and penniless in those cold, unfamiliar streets was daunting. She felt resistance ebb away and he saw it. He gave her several reassuring kisses, then knelt at her feet whilst she passively allowed him to lift her skirt and pull her hips to the edge of the couch. She watched the flickering of the fire on the plaster-worked ceiling as he knelt between her knees and put his hands inside her split-leg drawers. He groaned.
‘That woman’s scent. Oh, Josephine.’
And the young Annsdale virgin’s cheeks burned hotter than the fire as she felt his fingers and then his lips on that secret, private place between her thighs.
Chapter 14
The following morning she awoke naked in his bed. He was still asleep, face suggestive of nothing but guiltless slumber. She threw on his green paisley silk dressing gown and slipped downstairs to get her own clothes. The drawing room had been cleaned and a fire lit, but her clothes were nowhere to be seen. She ran back upstairs in panic to find the bedroom curtains open, letting the sun stream in. Charlie turned towards her and threw back the bedcovers. She wrapped the dressing gown closer around her and stood for several moments rooted to the spot, watching him in shocked fascination as he caressed the erection arising from a nest of curled hair shining golden-red above his thighs.
He gave a lazy, self-satisfied laugh. ‘Don’t worry, no one can see in. We’re too high up and too far away from the houses opposite. Come and kiss me.’
‘Where are my clothes, Charlie? And where’s my money?’
He fondled himself gently and sighed. ‘I love these little trollops. They never forget their money, the darlings.’ He gave her a smile. ‘Come here. I want you to lie beside me for an hour, and then you shall have your clothes. Some clothes, at any rate. Don’t worry, yours are quite safe.’
She got reluctantly into bed, noting her own dried blood on the sheets. After a moment or two he turned fully towards her and slid a hand inside the dressing gown to caress her breast. She lay rigid whilst he kissed her full on the mouth, his unshaven skin rough against hers. His mouth travelled slowly and deliberately down her neck to her breast. He covered it with kisses, and, taking the nipple between his teeth, began to bite very gently, before kissing her on the mouth again.
‘You can’t make matters worse now, you know,’ he whispered, nibbling her ear. ‘It’s much, much too late, my sweet little hinny. You’ll never be a virgin again. All is lost. All is lost to naughty Charlie.’ He kneaded the tops of her thighs cruelly until she gasped with pain and involuntarily separated her legs.
‘It’s good for you, you’ll see,’ he coaxed, pushing his knees between her thighs. ‘No, no, don’t struggle, my darling.’
She heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and all strength suddenly deserted her. Charlie leaned heavily against her, preventing any chance of escape.
‘Open your legs wide, there’s a good girl, and lift your haunches. Here, here, like this. Now open them, knees well apart. Good girl, good girl.’
She felt him push his way into her, past the soreness, and start a slow, deep thrusting. ‘I’m too deep in the saddle to be unseated now, even by Arthur Wilde’s daughter, and I mean to ride you hard.’
She closed her eyes and winced.
‘Relax. If you relax, it’ll hurt less, I promise,’ he said, ramming himself deliberately, rhythmically and slowly into her, with ever-increasing force. After some time, the rhythm changed and his thrusting became quicker, more urgent. Independent of her will, her hips began to rock to meet his thrusts. She moved with him. Fear and shame lost all significance and soon she cared for nothing – nothing but the sensation that consumed and threatened to explode inside her. She held on to Charlie and wrapping her legs around him, felt herself in the pit of her belly gripping him, holding him, drawing him, wanting, wanting to consume the whole of him. She was on the brink of ecstasy – then he groaned and was still.
‘No, no, don’t stop!’
He collapsed breathless on to the bed, red-faced. Beads of perspiration stood large on his forehead.
‘Women!’ he laughed, between gasps. ‘First “don’t start”, and then “don’t stop”! What a knee trembler! You’re a good lay, Ginny, the best I’ve ever had, man or boy.’ After a minute or two his breathing slowed to normal and he propped himself on one elbow to look at her.
‘If I couldn’t see the evidence, I wouldn’t believe you were a virgin. The man was right, you’re a natural. You’re a natural gay lady, but you must only be gay with me for now.’ He laughed softly. ‘You poor thing, I haven’t brought you off, and you’re disappointed. I haven’t the strength to rectify that just now, but give me a few hours and I promise I won’t fail.’
She winced again. ‘You’ve made me sore, Charlie.’
‘It’s all right,’ he soothed, ‘we mustn’t stop now. Lovemaking is rather like claret, an acquired taste for most women, much more so than for men. You seem to be acquiring it very quickly. You’ll soon like it as much as I do.’
She resisted and turned away. She felt his flaccid penis against her as he put his arms around her waist and pulled her into him.
‘You remember yesterday, when you wished you had your mother here?’ he said, voice hard-edged and his grip tightening painfully. ‘Well, I wish I’d had your father just now. I’d have liked him to see me “tamper” with you.’
Her lip curled in scorn. If there’d been any chance of my father seeing anything you wouldn’t have dared touch me, Charlie, she thought. You’
d have shit yourself, you stinking coward.
‘I love your solid flesh, your well-muscled thighs and haunches, your firm young breasts. What are you, Ginny, fifteen? Less than half my age, but I love the young ones. A clean, fresh provincial girl, what could be nicer? Diseased old London tarts like Daisy leave me cold. I don’t know how any man can bear to touch them, but there’s no accounting for taste. No, give me a fresh, full-breasted young bird like you, just the thing to warm a gentleman’s bed. You shall stay here with me, so I can have the pleasure of you as often as I like. And it will save you money, you know, you must think of that.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘I won’t charge you for the lodging. Not in cash, anyway.’
After a warm morning bath, an undreamed-of novelty for Ginny, she tried on a lilac silk dress that Charlie said had been discarded by Helen, along with a few others, after her marriage to Robert. It was tight over the bust, and loose at the waist, but he decided that the colour suited her pale skin and black hair. The style was a little passé, but let out and taken in in the right places, and generally brought up to date, it would do very well for his hinny, she would be quite fit to be seen with him. The evening gown could be transformed into something that would do for the stage, until they found out how she performed. He knew of a good dressmaker.
Charlie waited in the cab whilst she called in at her lodgings to collect her few possessions and settle her bill. There was the usual Sunday bustle in the hall, the settling of bills, the comings and goings of artistes and the carrying out of trunks. Ginny gave the landlady her new address and asked for her letters to be sent on.
‘I’ll do it for a week, and that’s all. There’s a letter here for you now. Miss May left it – you’ve just missed her.’ She cast a disparaging eye at the strip of silk showing under Ginny’s coat. ‘My, my, silk dresses are the uniform. You’ve obviously found a very good place.’ Ginny took her letter, picked up her bag and returned swiftly to the cab, blushing to the roots of her hair.
Daisy’s letter wished her luck, and gave her permission to use the best of the songs of her youth. Ginny handed the letter to Charlie, saying she was sorry not to have seen her.
‘Oh, excellent, the old girl’s turned up trumps. They’ll do for a start.’ He said no more, but Ginny remembered Daisy’s kindness with gratitude and she frowned as she recalled Charlie’s earlier insulting words about her.
They rode through the city to Leadenhall Street, where they alighted outside a jeweller’s. She followed him down a narrow passageway to a heavy oak door. Charlie rapped loudly and impatiently with his cane. A few moments later, the door was opened by a dark-complexioned woman who showed them upstairs, into a comfortable drawing room. A grey-haired man of about sixty or seventy rose to greet them.
‘Mr Parkinson, as I live. And to what do I owe the honour?’
‘Why, I’m to be married, Isaac; and since you’re going to supply the wedding ring in payment for many recommendations I’ve given you, you can be the first to know.’
An ironical smile passed over the old man’s face, answered by a broad grin from Charlie. ‘Indeed, indeed,’ he said, and led them downstairs and into the shop, where they sat down to examine trays of wedding rings.
‘Are you sure these are the best you’ve got, you sly old son of Abraham?’ Charlie demanded.
The old man assumed an expression of injured innocence. ‘For a good business partner like you? Would I deceive you?’
‘No more than I would you.’ Charlie squeezed Ginny’s hand and said, with mock solemnity, ‘Choose the one you like best, my dear, you’ll be wearing it for the rest of your life.’ Without enthusiasm, she chose a thick, bevelled, twenty-two carat ring, and Charlie, grinned triumphantly.
‘My intended has the most unerring good taste,’ he murmured.
‘In rings, at least,’ smiled Isaac, ‘and I wish her joy in wearing it.’
They drove on into a park where he put the ring on her finger and kissed her. ‘Now you may sign yourself Mrs Parkinson, given that you pay proper attention to your wifely duties, of course. This is your day for names, Ginny; you must have another one before it’s out. You need a stage name, and one that will cut some ice, make people sit up and notice you. Think of a name that’s already on everybody’s lips if you can, perhaps a little aristocratic, but not obviously anyone else’s name.’
‘Why not Parkinson?’
‘Oh, no, that won’t do at all. Too prosaic, though I hate to admit it. No, a name of consequence, an English name, that’ll mean something to Londoners.’
She gazed around the park, waiting for inspiration. Her gaze fell on a clump of late snowdrops, symbols of modesty and purity, but now browning and slimy. She thought fleetingly of Snowdrop Terrace and sighed.
‘Where are we now?’ she asked. ‘Is this St James’s Park?’
‘It is indeed.’
‘Ginny St James, then. No, just Ginny James is better.’
‘By all means, let’s drop the saint, my lusty little sinner. Music hall audiences do tend towards the vulgar.’
‘And I think I’ll sign myself that name as well. Then I won’t get too confused, and if I fall down on the wifely duties, I shan’t have to change it again.’
‘Excellent, excellent. But you’ll never tire of the sort of wifely duties I require from you, Ginny. People who take to them with such enthusiasm as you never do. If you stop performing them for me, you’ll be delighting some other lucky fellow within a fortnight. I feel jealous of him already and he isn’t aware of your existence yet. Stay faithful to me as long as you can. I want to keep you to myself for a while.’
A shadow of anxiety passed over her face. ‘Till death us do part, I hope, Charlie. It’s not long since you were talking about a wedding.’
‘Yes, I was, wasn’t I?’ he said, banging the head of his cane on the roof of the cab to signal the driver on. ‘I fear I may have to disappoint my sister and her Manor Farm connections after all. It’s too bad. Popularity is such a trial; one is always having to disappoint somebody. I can’t help it; you’re too irresistible. We’ll fly home. The rest of our business can wait until this afternoon. My friend has a keen sense of his own importance, he won’t be set aside for any consideration.’
Ginny took Maria’s shoes and her quilted nightdress case into a guest bedroom and pushed them into the darkest recess of a bottom drawer, as if through them the givers might see what was to pass between her and Charlie. That done she undressed, and standing naked in front of the full-length wardrobe mirror examined the bruising on her thighs and breasts. There was evidence enough for any constable, but she would have been too ashamed to show it. She returned to Charlie’s room and slipped trembling into bed, ready to render those services that Charlie demanded and Mam Smith had warned her against. The sheets were fresh, all trace of bloody conquest removed – changed by the same invisible hands that laid suppers, uncorked claret, and sent bloodstained linen out to the laundry.
He kept her waiting for what seemed an age. When he appeared, he took her unresisting into his arms and kissed her gently, rubbing his smooth, clean-shaven cheek against hers, not attempting to touch any other part of her.
‘What a sweet, patient little hinny you can be,’ he murmured. ‘I know these things are new to you and it was all very painful and embarrassing yesterday, but girls mustn’t tease, they mustn’t say yes then change their minds, a man cannot tolerate it. If they do there’s no alternative to rough wooing.’
Bright, silent tears filled her eyes and spilled on to her cheeks. He kissed her again, stroked her hair, and spoke in a low, gentle voice. ‘I had every hope of you before you came, but now that you understand what your choices are and who the master is, I know you’ll exceed all my hopes. It’s in your own nature, quite apart from what I shall teach you. Don’t be frightened, everything will happen quite naturally. You showed me this morning how responsive you are, so you will please me. You’re the sort of girl who couldn’t help it if she wanted to, my sweet, sweet
little hinny. I’ll devote myself to your pleasure this time and you’ll see why your ridiculous village principles have no place in the lives of real, flesh and blood men and women.’
During the week that followed they did the rounds of dressmakers, songwriters, theatres, and impresarios. At Charlie’s suggestion, she passed herself off as a married woman of eighteen or nineteen, and seemed to be accepted as such. He took her to a couple of shows and introduced her to his acquaintances as ‘Mrs James. I have her husband’s permission to squire her round London whilst he’s away on business.’ This announcement was usually greeted with guffaws and ribaldry, but some people actually seemed to believe it. Charlie was unperturbed whatever the reaction. She could not have said why, when they both knew to the contrary, but the thick, expensive wedding ring and the fiction of married respectability was a comfort to her.
Occasional hints about abandonment without a penny on the streets of London kept her fearful and obedient, and Charlie, now given his pleasure without reserve the instant he demanded it, became a pleasant and amusing companion. She was dismayed to find herself his eager acolyte, usually more than willing to try anything which might please him, her desire matching and sometimes even exceeding his, but when she was most eager for his attentions, it seemed to amuse him to withhold them. She thrilled to his touch in spite of herself, and was pleased by his praises. In the end she could not have told whether it was ambition, cowardice, or lust that truly held her captive. She became curious about his former lovers, but he would tell her nothing. After a particularly torrid coupling she asked him, ‘You remember that first time in the drawing room, Charlie? Why did you call me Josephine?’
A Sovereign for a Song Page 14
