by Liese Anning
'But, surely, I am not responsible for my father's debts? It was his poor judgment, not mine.'
'My dear, dear, Verity. I do not think you fully understand. All these must be paid. Your father's debts may not by law be your responsibility, but they are by honour.'
'Honour?' she spat out, 'what do you know about honour? You have none.'
He laughed again. 'The cat has claws,' he said, grinning to himself. Then he added, ‘but, my dear Verity, it is not my honour in question, it is yours and your family’s.'
'You have the deed. Why not sell Hadlands. Will that not cover the debt?'
'No, my dear, it will not. Hadlands has suffered too much neglect at your father's hands. The lands are fallow, and many of the tenants have left.' He waved his hand over to the other pile of papers, 'the money raised by selling it, would not even cover a quarter of these. No, my dear, I am afraid that will not do at all.'
'There must be another way,' she said, looking down at her lap.
'I could ask your sister,' he said, shrugging his shoulders, 'she is rather young and very charming.' He paused to rub his chin, 'yes, I think she would do rather well.' He then leant across the desk to pick up his glass. 'Then again, what about your brother, Reggie. He is rather a tall lad for his age and quite broad shouldered. I could use a strong lad like him on one of my ships. But, there again, I could find other jobs for a good-looking young boy in London.'
'No,' she said, in horror, 'not them.'
Melrose knew he had touched a nerve, 'I know Reggie is still at school, and the fees have been paid until the new year. Have you thought about what will happen to him when the money runs out?'
Verity nodded, 'my sister and I...'
'Don’t tell me,' he interrupted, with a laugh, 'you plan to pay for his fees yourself.' He shook his head and tutted. 'I do not think you have thought this through. Even if you and your sister could afford the fees, which I very much doubt you can, have you thought about his future; Cambridge, Oxford. These would be expensive. Far too expensive for two spinster schoolmistresses to afford. And if you think, for a moment, any of his guardians will stump up the readies, for dear old Reggie, you are very much mistaken. Your father did not choose them wisely.'
He stood up, from behind his desk, and walked over to her. ‘Let us retire to the chairs by the fire.' He put his hands on her shoulders, 'you are shivering. Come with me.'
He held out his hand and lead her to a loveseat close to the fire. Melrose sat next to her and took her hand in his. 'Now, Verity,' he said softly caressing her fingers, 'will it be that bad. If you are a good girl and do as you are told, I will look after you.'
Except for the ticking of the clock and the crackling of the fire, there was silence in the room. 'I have already had my man draw up a contract. You will receive a generous allowance, until your debt and, of course, the interest, has been repaid in full. After everything has been settled, in a couple of years, you will receive a wage, that will be a proportion of your earnings. Any additional gifts you receive, except property, you may keep. You are four and twenty, are you not?'
Verity nodded.
‘Good. The contract will last six years. After that, you can either choose to stay in my employ, or you can go into business for yourself.'
'What about Reggie and Cassie?’ Verity said in resignation.
'Reggie will get the deed to Hadlands, and I will also loan him enough money to make the necessary improvements to the estate. I can even advise him how to make Hadlands the profitable venture it could be.'
'Will I be responsible for that loan?' she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
He smiled and touched her cheek and then, with his finger, brushed her hair behind her ear. 'Of course, my dear.' He smiled at her, 'you must see that I have no choice. If I let you, and your family, off the debt, I will be seen as weak. Anyone will think that they can take advantage of my goodwill.'
'May I read the contract?' she said, trying to avoid eye contact.
He stood up and held out his hand. 'Come with me.'
Verity took his hand, and he lead her back to the chair, she had sat in earlier. She heard a brass handle rattle again, as he opened another draw. 'Ah!' he said, 'here it is.'
Verity was presented with a large piece of paper written in elaborate copperplate. She read it carefully. 'I will sign it if you will include a codicil regarding the return of the deed of Hadlands, to my brother.'
Melrose nodded and wrote the codicil at the end of the contract. Verity read the contract once more and nodded in agreement.
She took the quill and dipped it in the inkwell that he had given her. Her hand hovered over the page. 'Do I have your word that neither my brother's or sister's reputation will be tarnished by my decision?'
'You have my word,' he said gravely.
As Verity signed the document, her hand began to shake as she wrote her name clearly next to his. As soon as she had signed it, Melrose took it from her and said. 'Come, my dear, we should toast our new partnership.'
Verity picked up the glass that contained the brandy and sipped it gingerly. The fiery liquid caught the back of her throat, and she gave a small cough. Melrose laughed, ‘you will soon get used to that.’ He folded the contract and placed it back in the draw. 'Now, my dear, let us discuss your immediate future.'
Chapter 6
When he had finished telling her about his plans for her future, Melrose stood up and walked over to the fireplace. Once he had rung the bell, he came back to the desk where Verity was still seated. As he made his way over to her, he picked up her cloak and fichu, and then placed it gently around her shoulders. After smoothing the cloak, he buttoned it around her neck and deliberately arranged her loose hair around the collar. As he touched her neck, ever so softly with his fingertips, Verity's blood ran cold, and a shiver of fear shot up her spine.
As she was waiting to leave, her mind in turmoil, she relived every moment of that awkward conversation. Lord Melrose had agreed to allow her one week to settle her family's affairs and bid farewell to her sister. Then, she would be expected to join him back at Highfields, where she would begin her new life, under the direction of Lord Melrose.
Verity's mind felt detached from the rest of her body as he had explained, in excruciating detail, what would be expected of her. It all felt unreal, as though she was an observer, looking down at herself in a dream. She would no longer be a retiring school teacher, teaching young ladies French and History. Instead, she would lead a very public life, where her every move would be watched and then scrutinised. He had made it quite clear, that if she changed her mind, the contract, she had signed that afternoon, would be null and void. Melrose would then be entitled to collect the remaining debt, by any means, from her siblings.
'Good-bye, Verity,' he said as he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his, 'I shall look forward to seeing you next week when we will get to know each other more intimately.'
It was not long until she heard the door open, and the same footman, who had shown her into the study earlier, entered the room. 'Reynolds,' Melrose said authoritatively, 'show Miss Stanford out.'
As Verity walked towards the door, she heard Lord Melrose address the footman once more, 'show Miss Stanford out through the back entrance.' Then he added, just as they were leaving, 'Oh, and Reynolds, explain to Miss Stanford what your role will be in her induction.'
'Very good, my Lord,' he said soberly.
'Verity,' Melrose said seriously, 'listen carefully to Mr Reynolds. He will, while you are here at Highfields, be taking responsibility for your education. He will then continue to act as your intermediary when we arrive in London. Until next week, my dear.'
Verity left the study and followed the footman through a maze of corridors, which lead towards the back of the house. Once they had reached a plain wooden staircase, used exclusively by the servants, it began to strike Verity how much her life was going to change. As she descended the stairs, towards the servants' quarters, s
he began to realise that by signing Melrose's contract, she had not just signed away her dignity, but also her position in society. She may be a spinster school teacher, having to support herself financially, but she was the daughter of a baronet, and that should have afforded her a certain amount of respect.
As they entered the kitchen, they were accosted by a group of young women. 'Gonna join us for a drink, love?' one of them shouted at Verity.
Verity said nothing, she just looked at her feet, trying not to stare at these vulgar looking creatures. She did not know where to look. They were in various stages of undress, and all of them looked as though they were drunk.
'She's a bit high and mighty,' said another, standing up and walking over to her, 'not good enough for you?'
Less than an hour ago, Verity would have looked at these women and felt an air of superiority over them. She would have been quick to accuse them of having loose morals and would have laid the blame, for their lifestyle, solely at their feet. She would have encouraged them to reform and find themselves decent employment. A position that would not require oneself to compromise one's dignity. As she always told her pupils; you, and you alone, are responsible for your future.
Now, she looked at them with sadness in her eyes. Since coming to Highfields, Verity had come to the slow realisation, that one's destiny does not lie solely in one’s hands. Friends, family and even strangers, will have an influence on the direction one's life takes.
Verity ignored the women and continued to follow the footman across the kitchen, towards the back door. But, she was continually conscious of the looks of contempt they were giving her.
As Reynolds opened the back door, he stood leaning against the frame, partially blocking her exit. Verity was now desperate to leave. She held her head up high as she attempted to push past him. As she went through the doorway, he grabbed her, and roughly pulled her around, until she was facing him. 'You won't be so high and mighty next time we meet,' he said, his fingers digging painfully into her arms. 'You're now no better than them,' he said, motioning to the women sitting at the table, 'just another one of his Lordship's whores.' He smiled at her with a cold, hard expression in his eyes. Then he bent down and whispered in her ear, 'in the future, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other. I'll be looking after you.’ His fingers continued to dig into her arm, and Verity tried not to wince with the pain. 'I will treat you like the whore you are,' he said fiercely in her ear. As his grip tighten, Verity could not help letting out a cry of pain. He smiled, in satisfaction of her response, and let her go. 'Just remember, you do not want to upset me, or his lordship. I heard what you did to him at the churchyard. Once you live here, behaviour like that, will not be tolerated.’ When he had finished speaking, he then pushed her into the courtyard, and she fell onto the hard cobbles. He stood looking down at her, sprawled out on the floor, and said menacingly, 'I shall enjoy meeting you again and teaching you a few manners.'
Verity picked herself off the floor and walked away from the door. She was constantly aware that her every move was being watched by the burly footman. When she finally reached the back of the kitchen courtyard and was out of his sight, she began to run.
The sun, which only a few hours ago had been shining brightly, had replaced by a thick curtain of drizzle. To protect herself from the cold and damp atmosphere, she wrapped the cloak tightly around her body. However, as she ran, the hood of her cloak kept falling, thus exposing her face and hair to the constant fine mist of water.
After running for what felt like an age, she began to stumble. Suddenly, a stabbing pain in her side, made her stop. Breathless, and doubled up in pain, she fell to her knees. As she knelt, in the middle of a sodden field on that miserable afternoon, the despair of her situation overcame her, and she began to sob.
Amid her despair, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. 'Miss Stanford,' she heard a voice quietly say, 'you cannot stay here.'
✽✽✽
It was late in the afternoon when James approached the stables after riding for several hours. The house party, including the guests, were not at all to his taste, and he had been regretting his decision to attend. On the first day, he had been asked by Ellington to play cards. He sensed that Ellington, and his cousin, had an ulterior motive for his presence at Highfields. Since arriving, he had won a good deal of money, and it seemed a little strange that the other guests did not seem to mind. They were all quite happy just to play.
That morning, he had decided to borrow a horse, from Melrose's extensive stable, and go for a ride. After riding for several hours, he began to make his way back to Highfields. In the distance; he saw a woman. As she ran, her long reddish hair, which was loose, flew out behind her. It was the only colour that lit up the landscape on that dreary afternoon. James immediately recognised her; it was Miss Stanford. He then encouraged the already exhausted horse to go faster. Once he had almost reached her, he saw her fall, in exhaustion, to the ground.
As soon as he reached her, he jumped down from the horse. Her wet hair was plastered across her face, and he gently wiped it from her cheeks. 'Miss Stanford,' he said, with concern in his voice. He could see that her breathing was laboured and her face was deathly pale.
He held her in his arms until her breathing became regular, and her sobs began to subside. 'What are you doing here?' he whispered, 'this is not conducive weather for a walk.' He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dried her eyes. 'What has upset you?' he said gently.
She shook her head and said, 'nothing,’ as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
'Please tell me. I may be able to help.'
'I am beyond help,' she said, in a whisper.
He noticed the despair in her voice, 'no one is beyond help,' he replied. She did not answer; she just kept staring into the distance. 'Would you like me to take you home?'
'I have no home,' she said, in a faint whisper.
As he listened to her, he remembered his wife, Isabella, and felt compassion for her. 'Well,' he said, as he lifted her up in his arms, 'I cannot leave you here.'
They were still on Melrose's land, and James could see a nearby building. As he came closer, with the horse walking beside him, he observed that it was a rounded, classically styled folly. He walked in, still carrying Verity, and placed her carefully on a bench.
James knew that as soon as he got her inside, Miss Stanford would need to be warmed up quickly. He looked around the room and found some candles and a tinder-box. Once he had lit the candles, and the room was illuminated by their soft, flickering, orange light, he was then able to make a careful examination of the folly. He could see that it had been recently occupied, probably by one of Melrose’s guests. There were still the remains of a smouldering fire in the grate, and he immediately set about resurrecting it, by placing kindling on the dying embers.
James moved the bench closer to the fire and encouraged Verity to sit down again. Once she was seated, he found a chest that contained several blankets and a brown glass bottle. He opened the bottle and sniffed the contents gingerly. Satisfied that it was brandy, he offered it to Verity, but, she shook her head in refusal.
'You should have a sip,' he said, offering it to her once more, 'it will warm you up.'
She obeyed and took the bottle from him and brought it to her lips. As she drank, he could tell that the fiery liquid had caught the back of her throat. 'Thank you,' she muttered, as she gave the bottle back to him. He then took a long draft, replaced the stopper and put the bottle on the floor beside his feet.
To stop the fire from dying, he moved the logs with a poker and placed more wood on top. The wood crackled and spat, sending orange flames dancing high into the air. Once he was satisfied that the fire had caught hold, and that heat was beginning to fill the room, he sat on the wooden bench next to Miss Stanford. They sat in silence for several minutes, almost mesmerised by the dancing flames. 'Did you come from Highfields?' James said, finally breaking the silence.
‘Yes,’ Miss Stanford
whispered, as she nodded her head.
'Did Ellington upset you?' he asked.
'No,' she said shaking her head.
'Then, it must be Melrose,' he said with a sigh.
Verity nodded.
'You must tell me what happened,' he said, taking her hand and gently removing her wet gloves. Her hands were like ice, and he rubbed them between his palms to try and restore some warmth to them.
'I cannot,' she said in a whisper, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye, 'it is too terrible.'
'Did he hurt you?' he asked, as he offered her a handkerchief.
Miss Stanford shook her head. 'No,' she replied, 'he did not,’ she said, as she took the piece of plain white linen from him and wiped her eyes. 'It is far worse than that.'
'You must tell me,' he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently towards him.
He could feel her relax and lean into him, 'I signed a contract,' she eventually said, 'to work for Lord Melrose.'
'A contract?' he said, in disbelief, ‘does he want you to become his mistress?’
'No,' she said in despair, 'it is far worse than that. He wants me to...' Her voice trailed away, as she felt more tears escape from the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath and hiccupped, 'be a ... courtesan.'
There was silence as James took in the severity of what she was saying. Melrose was making her into little more than a well-paid prostitute. From what he had seen from Highfields, over the past week, Verity was not the only woman he had in his employ, 'Why did you agree?'
'He holds my father's debts, and believe me there are a lot of them.' She sat up to dry her eyes and blow her nose, 'Lord Melrose is already in possession of the deed for Hadlands. There is nothing left to pay the debt.'
'But, Miss Stanford, Verity,' he said gently, 'you are not culpable for your father's debts. There is no obligation for you to pay them.'
'I know...but,' she faltered as she spoke, a little unsure what to say next. 'He threatened Cassie and my brother,' she stopped and shut her eyes, 'Cassie is only seventeen. How could I let her...’? Her voice trailed away until it was barely a whisper.
