by Brenda Novak
Rachel wanted to fold her arms in front of her but, realizing it was a defensive posture, kept them at her sides. “I don’t have much experience,” she allowed, “but even I can see—”
“Oh, ye’ve got experience, all right,” he broke in. “Ye spread yer legs for the earl quick enough, but if ye knew what ye were doin’ even there ye wouldn’t be down in this ’ell ’ole.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but he wasn’t listening.
“Still, I’m not opposed ter teachin’ ye a thing or two about workin’ on yer back—since ye already know everythin’ about coal minin’. What do ye say, ’Enderson, Thornick? Should we teach this bitch a lesson?”
Rachel tried to retreat, but two steps backed her up against the wall. “I am not the earl’s whore,” she said, trying to keep the fear twisting her insides from revealing itself in her voice. “My brother died in a cave-in. I am merely trying to prevent a similar accident. We wouldn’t want something like that to ever happen again.”
“I’ll tell ye what’s goin’ ter ’appen,” he said. “I’m gonna throw up yer skirts. Then I’m gonna give my friend ’Enderson a turn.”
“Leave ’er be,” Collingood admonished. “You know what Cutberth said. We’re not ter touch ’er. Go to Elspeth’s tonight if ye want.”
“Why spend my hard-earned money on those tired whores?” Greenley countered. “They aren’t anythin’ like the educated Miss McTavish, always so prim and proper and too good for a simple miner. Or even a besotted blacksmith’s apprentice. I bet she’s tighter than a drum. Besides, I’m not goin’ ter ’urt ’er. I’m just gonna enjoy her as the earl did. ’E’s no better’n us!”
“What about Cutberth?” Collingood asked, but he was glancing around as though sizing up the possibilities.
“We don’t ’ave ter tell ’im, do we? If we all take a turn, we’ll be in it together. What do ye say, ’Enderson, Thornick?”
Greenley’s eager smile caused Rachel’s panic to rise to a new level. “I’ll scream,” she threatened.
Henderson tossed his pick aside and crawled over to cut off her exit. “So what? Ye won’t be heard above the shouts and shovels an’ ’orses an’ machinery. An’ even if ye are, do ye really think someone’s goin’ to lose time comin’ all the way out to Number 14 Stall ter investigate somethin’ that could mean nothin’ more than some scraped knuckles?”
He was right. Rachel knew it the moment he said the words. Providing her cries were heard, they’d probably be interpreted as a bump on the head or some smashed fingers or a million other minor accidents that happened all the time.
“Why not make it easy, Rachel?” Henderson suggested. “Give us what ye gave the almighty earl, an’ we’ll look after ye down ’ere.”
“Ye need some allies,” Greenley agreed. “We’ll stand by ye as Henderson says, which is more’n Lord Druridge ’as done.”
Only a full tub of coal stood between Rachel and the men. Behind her the passage narrowed into a crawl space that ended in fifteen feet or less. “If you touch me, I will go to him,” she threatened. “I will tell Druridge, and he will sack you.”
Greenley laughed. “Ye’re not worth four good hewers to ’im. Besides, it’ll be your word against ours, four upstanding citizens against a whore.”
“Come on, Rachel, we’re no fancy-smellin’ earls, but there’s no need ter turn yer nose up,” Collingood added.
“The earl’s twice the man you four could ever hope to be!” Rachel shoved the tub at them with all the strength she had left. It hit Collingood, still on his knees, in the chest and knocked him back.
Greenley jumped left but there was little room to maneuver in a tunnel less than five feet square. He suffered a glancing blow to the shoulder, which slammed him into Thornick and Henderson and took them all down.
Rachel tried to run past them, but someone caught her by the ankle. Using the walls to hold herself up, she wrenched her foot away and, in a flurry of panic, kicked Henderson in the chin as he was getting up. With a curse, he threw up an arm to protect himself, but by then Greenley had grabbed her skirts and was pulling her down.
A moment later, Rachel could feel the rock floor cutting into her spine as Collingood’s face loomed above her.
“Do ’er now,” he told Greenley, pinning her down with one hand and squeezing her breast with the other.
She screamed and squirmed but her efforts were futile. She couldn’t hold off four strong men. “Help me! Help!”
“’Old her tighter!” Greenley’s rough hands clawed at the insides of her thighs as he tried to force her legs apart. “I’m goin’ ter show ’er what it feels like ter ’ave a real man, not some fancypants earl.”
“You touch her or anything else that belongs to me, and I will kill you.”
Druridge’s voice was unmistakable. He stood not six feet away, with Wythe at his side.
Greenley, Collingood and the others released her and pressed back against the walls like cockroaches suddenly exposed to the light. Rachel tried to push her skirts down to cover her legs, but she was shaking so badly she couldn’t manage the volume of material.
“We meant nothin’ by it,” Greenley said.
“We weren’t really goin’ to do anythin’ but give ’er a good scare,” Collingood chimed in.
“We thought ye’d already cast ’er aside. We wouldn’t ’ave touched ’er if we thought ye still ’ad use for ’er, m’lord,” Thornick added.
Fury and contempt flickered on the earl’s face. “Get out,” he said, stooping to wrap his cloak around Rachel. “Get out and don’t come back.”
“My lord—” Wythe’s eyes darted between the hewers, the earl and Rachel. “These men have families to support.”
“Then let them go home and explain to their wives and children how they lost their jobs trying to rape an innocent young woman.”
“But how will they live?”
“If it were up to me, they wouldn’t. Give their families some wages so they can survive until these men find other work, but I will not have them on my payroll another day.”
Wythe’s jaw clenched. “She is only a village wench, my lord. Some of these miners have worked for us for years. We arrived in time. There wasn’t any harm done. Couldn’t we leave them with a warning and be about our business?”
Truman pulled Rachel up beside him. “A warning?” he repeated. “Knowing what you knew, you should have put her anywhere but down here. Pray I don’t throw you out with them. How is that for a warning?”
Wythe looked as if he would continue to argue. His eyes sparked with anger. But he bowed in acquiescence, pulled a pistol from his belt and waved it at Greenley and the others. “You heard him,” he told the men. “Collect your things and get out.”
The earl drew Rachel away with him. As they left, she felt the hatred of the four men hit her like slugs in her back.
“Bloody whore!” one shouted. “’E’ll tire of ye before long, an’ then where will ye be? No one will want ye.”
“Good thing ole’ Jack’s gone,” Greenley said, his words more effective despite the softness with which they were spoken. “’T would kill ’im to know ye’ve turned on yer own.”
Rachel winced at the mention of her father and summoned the strength to stand on her own. If she left with him now, she’d be crossing an invisible line—the line to his side. Once she did that, there would be no going back.
But what else could she do? She couldn’t stay. Wythe had been publicly humiliated and would punish her for being the cause of it. She knew him well enough to expect that much. And when word of what happened got out, there would only be more men to replace Greenley, Thornick and the others. She had alienated the miners and could no longer work safely among them.
Unable to continue to support her own weight, she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. What now? If not for the earl, those miners would have raped her. If not for the earl and what had already happened at Blackmoor Hall, they
never would have tried.
Did she hate Druridge or admire him? Criticize him or give thanks?
“Please,” she muttered, but she didn’t know whom she petitioned for help: God, or the earl. She only knew that her situation had gone from bad to worse since the day he first appeared at her shop.
“Are you injured?” Druridge bent over her.
She shook her head. “I will make my own way out… in a moment. Th-thank you for your help. I am g-grateful. Or at least I’m sure I will be when I sort everything out.”
He looked back at the men who were gathering their picks and shovels. “You have to choose, Rachel,” he said. “And now is as good a time as any.”
Something about the earl’s voice made her look up, into his eyes. What did he want from her? What had brought him here? Why couldn’t someone else have interfered, like the brawny putter who had offered to help her catch up? “Choose what?” she repeated dully.
“Me… or them.”
Rachel watched the men shuffle past, Wythe and his enforcing pistol at their backs. They would tear her limb from limb, if they could. She couldn’t help noticing their cutting glares and bunched muscles.
But Druridge was more dangerous still, because he made her heart twist and yearn for something that could never be.
“I will leave,” she said. “Go somewhere far away. That must be the answer.”
“What would you do in another village? Go back to work in a mine? You have three days’ experience, sweet Rachel. You would make pennies, hardly enough to survive.”
She shook her head. She had no solutions, only a young brother to care for. Somehow, some way…
“Come with me to Blackmoor Hall,” he said.
Remembering how her skin had burned beneath his touch, Rachel caught her breath. It was almost as though she hadn’t been alive until that night, as though his kiss had awakened her from a long slumber. If she let herself, she could fall in love with this man, and then where would she be?
Worse off than ever before.
“No. I will not be your whore.”
“I am not asking you to be my whore,” he said. “You will have a place among my servants. You will receive honest pay for honest work. And Geordie can pitch hay in the stables. The training would be good for him. Perhaps he could become a groom or a driver one day.”
She said nothing. The offer was a generous one. Such jobs were not easy to come by. A steady stream of country girls traipsed to the manse, hoping for just such a position. And a job for Geordie too?
But going into service meant giving up the only life she had known. She would no longer be part of the village, no longer run the shop. Everything would change.
It had changed already, hadn’t it? She was trying to hang on to something that wasn’t really there.
“Certainly my offer is better than starving, or working here,” he coaxed.
That was true, but what of her parents’ wishes? Her mother wasn’t yet two weeks cold and Rachel had already lost the shop. And what of her dead father and brother?
What of her living brother, another voice in her head replied. Shouldn’t he matter more? She would never get rich sweeping out fireplaces and polishing furniture. But at least she and Geordie would have a roof over their heads and food to eat.
Druridge touched her arm. “The whole village has turned on you. The only place you will be safe is with me.”
Weary beyond words, she rested her head against the rock wall. “I know.”
“So you accept?”
She thought of Geordie, of how many things he needed that he would go without if she didn’t agree, and nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Let’s go,” he said and helped her to her feet.
Chapter 11
As simple and safe as Lord Druridge had made it sound for her and Geordie to come to Blackmoor Hall, Rachel knew they’d face plenty of hardships. Maybe none so dire as starvation, but she could tell when he turned her and Geordie over to Mrs. Poulson that the housekeeper would not be kind. Poulson resented having them thrust upon her, resented the fact that Druridge had involved himself in household matters. Even though the housekeeper responded in a carefully modulated voice when they were introduced, her courteous mask fell away the moment Lord Druridge left them alone.
“So what am I supposed to do with the both of you?” The housekeeper fisted her hands on her hips and walked around her and Geordie as if they were mere vermin and she was tempted to call out the rat catcher. “You are both far too thin. You won’t have the strength to work like I require. And yet you will need sustenance.”
“Please, ma’am. I will do all you ask. I promise,” Geordie said.
“Fortunately, you won’t be my problem. Flora?” She addressed a scullery maid, who dropped the vegetables she was cutting and hurried over. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Take this one out to the stables and tell Mr. Grude to see to him.” She narrowed her eyes as she glared at Geordie. “I don’t want you in the house unless I have requested your company. Do you understand?”
He glanced at Rachel, obviously fearing that meant he would no longer be able to see her. Rachel wished she could reassure him but dared not speak up in front of the housekeeper.
“Yes, mum,” he said, his face stoic but glum.
Rachel lifted her chin to show her determination. “And I am stronger than I look. I… I was a putter in the mine.”
“And you lasted three whole days.” She laughed in derision. “I have heard all about your abilities.”
Ashamed and humiliated that Poulson would reference in front of Geordie the night she’d been with Lord Druridge, she lowered her eyes. “We will both do our part,” she insisted.
“That you will. I plan to see to it.”
Rachel’s gaze trailed after her brother as Flora led Geordie out through the larder. When he twisted around to catch a final glimpse of her, she could tell he was scared and uncertain of this new world. She could only hope that the stable master would show more kindness than the housekeeper, because this arrangement was the best she could do for him.
“Come on, then,” Poulson snapped. “You can’t stand around all day. You’ve got work to do.”
The contempt that gave those words such a sharp edge made Rachel uneasy, but she followed the housekeeper up the back stairs, which were reserved for the servants to come and go as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, to a drafty garret, where she was given a narrow bed in a row of narrow beds, presumably belonging to other maids. There was no fireplace, which meant nights would be cold. It was chilly now, despite Rachel’s wool dress and shawl.
Surely she’d made the right decision. This had to be better than suffering the recriminations of the villagers and the indignities of working amongst the miners.
But already she missed her freedom, her own bed, the books she loved to read and sell—all that had been her life before. She had no idea what would become of those things. Lord Druridge had indicated they would discuss such matters later. She guessed her belongings would be sold to buy out her lease and Druridge would let both the shop and the house to someone else.
She hated the very thought of that—it signaled the end of the autonomy she prized so highly—but what could she do?
Nothing. For better or worse, she’d made her decision at the mine.
“Girl? Girl!”
With a blink, Rachel drew her attention to the housekeeper. “Yes, mum?”
“Stow your belongings in that before I give you a good smack.” She pointed at a wardrobe against the wall. “Then return below stairs immediately.”
Rachel had put in long hours at the bookshop, and at the mine, but she had a feeling her days here would be just as long and probably as grueling. Mrs. Poulson confirmed such when, in the kitchen, she handed Rachel a mop and a bucket and told her to remove all the rugs, beat them outside and scrub the floors—a job Rachel knew, with a house as vast as this one, would take her deep into the night, especially because she w
as getting such a late start.
“By day’s end, mum?” she asked.
“By day’s end.”
Mrs. Poulson waited to see if she would balk at the sheer enormity of the task, but Rachel clamped her mouth shut. After dipping into a polite curtsy, she carried her mop and bucket to the family wing so that she could, hopefully, be finished there before Lord Druridge and Mr. Stanhope decided to retire.
Lord Druridge’s bedroom brought back memories. Rachel held her breath as she entered, hoping those memories wouldn’t crowd too close. But she had to breathe eventually, and when she did, the smell of the furniture polish, his clothes and a hint of pipe smoke brought it all back to her.
Her eyes shifted to the bed, even though she’d been trying to look elsewhere. She’d lost her virginity right there. Maybe she’d thought she was dreaming when it started, but she’d been aware of what she was doing by the end, and the mere audacity of her actions amazed her. No doubt he, and everyone else, would laugh at a poor village girl lusting after the great earl.
Soon, sweet Rachel, soon… Let me savor the taste and feel of you.…
Had he really spoken those words? Or was it a hallucination caused by the laudanum or whatever else Wythe had likely given her?
A noise in the hall jerked her out of her reverie. She had to hurry and get out of here. She’d chosen to start in this particular chamber so she wouldn’t be anywhere close to it by the time night fell. But the door swung wider than she’d left it, and the earl walked in.
He seemed taken aback when he saw her. Obviously, he hadn’t come to his room expecting to bump into her. She thought he might go about his business. She was only a cleaning maid, after all, and would soon blend into the background of his life. But he stopped and stared at her as if he wished he could read her thoughts.
Face burning, she ducked her head. “Excuse me, my lord. I-I will come back when you no longer have need of your chambers,” she murmured and started to leave.
“Rachel.”
Jittery and unsure, she turned back. The bed seemed so large, as if it were taking up all the space in the room. And he was taking up the oxygen. “Yes?”
