A Dark and Distant Shore (61 page)

‘What is it? What’s the matter?’

She gestured towards the letter, still lying on the floor, and then covered her face with her hands, her head moving from side to side as if she were denying something quite unthinkable.

Gideon picked it up. It was from Edward Blair at Glenbraddan. ‘Madam – I have to inform you, in case you are not already apprised of the fact, that your son, Mr Andrew Lauriston, has seen fit to abduct my unfortunate sister, Miss Shona Randall.’ Jesus! Gideon thought, darting a swift glance at his mother. It couldn’t be true.

Although I forbade them to meet, your son chose to ignore all the rules of gentlemanly conduct. For the last two months, it seems, he has been persuading her into clandestine meetings, with results, no doubt, that must be considered inevitable when a gently bred and innocent girl falls into the hands of a youth whose morals are such as no decent man could contemplate without loathing. Yesterday, during my absence on business in Elgin, they ran away together. It seems, from the note my unfortunate sister was so obliging as to leave behind, that she believes he intends to marry her. For her sake I hope this is so. But I wish to make it clear to your son, through you, madam, that under no circumstances will I permit either of them to cross the threshold of Glenbraddan again. I have too much respect for my wife and daughter to permit them to be contaminated by contact with two people who have shown themselves so wanton, so shameless, so contemptuous of all the tenets of Christian morality, and who have forfeited all right to be received in decent society. Yours &c – Edward Blair.

After the first shock, Gideon’s only feeling was exasperation. He didn’t for a moment believe Drew had seduced the girl, but he had obviously fallen head over heels in love, and been carried away by that extremely trying romanticism of his. It was very bad, of course. Gentlemen weren’t supposed to elope with innocent girls. But if Drew had become convinced that she was unhappy at Glenbraddan, and if it was Scotland where one came of age at sixteen and could be married by simple declaration... Young Lochinvar, Gideon reflected gloomily. What a pest of a boy he was!

He went over and knelt beside his mother, recognizing that it would be a mistake to try and make light of it. Looking up at her, he said firmly, ‘It’s not so dreadful, truly it isn’t! Don’t distress yourself so. I know it’s not the way one would have wished Drew to go about things, but you mustn’t be too shocked at him. He’s fallen in love, that’s all, and persuaded the girl it would be romantic to elope. I remember you telling me once what a sweet, biddable child she was, and Drew can be abominably convincing when he chooses. You know that as well as I do!’

But she was still sitting, shaking her head, silver rivulets running down her cheeks. ‘It’s impossible,’ she murmured, her voice breaking.

What was impossible? ‘If you mean he wouldn’t seduce her, of course he wouldn’t! No, Mama. Truly, it could have been worse. We can hush it all up. You’ll see – they’ll be safely married by now!’

Her face dissolving, she cried, ‘No!
No, no, no!
Gideon, you must stop them! You must stop them somehow! Take the night Mail north and find them. You must find them and stop them before they do anything irrevocable. You
must!’

All he had done was make things worse, and he couldn’t understand why. If the situation had been put before him, merely as a subject for speculation, he would have said that Vilia’s response would have been simple, straight-forward annoyance at Drew’s idiocy. It really wasn’t as disastrous as she was making it appear. He would
never
understand her.

Gideon stared at her blankly. ‘But this letter must have taken a week to get here. If they were going to do anything irrevocable, they’ll have done it by now.’

‘They might not. Gideon, they might not! I’ve just thought – Drew may have taken her to Marchfield just to get her away from Edward. She was probably very unhappy. Really, Gideon,
really
he’ll have taken her there. You know he’ll want to do everything in proper style. He’ll have taken her there! Perhaps he’s written to me already, so that we can go home for the wedding. That would be like him, wouldn’t it, Gideon?’

She was almost frantic, gripping his arm with a strength he wouldn’t have believed she possessed. He said gently, ‘Oh, Mama! You don’t know Drew at all, do you! He’s a dashing hero, a knight in silver armour throwing the blushing maiden up into the saddle before him and riding off with her into the setting sun. He’s more likely to have married her with only a hill shepherd and his blasted dog for witnesses!’

‘No, that’s not true.
You must go!’

‘Vilia, if I thought there were any purpose in it, I’d go tonight, but there’s no purpose
at all!’
He tried to be reasonable. ‘You must reconcile yourself. It’s not a bad match, you know, and I won’t go on such a wild goose chase, not even for you. God knows where they may be; certainly not at Marchfield. That would be far too mundane for the beginning of a lifetime idyll!’

But she was determined, single-minded. ‘Gideon, do as I tell you! You must go. You must stop them.’

‘But why? I don’t understand why.’

‘You don’t have to understand. Just do what I say!’

‘No, Vilia. I’m sorry, but I’m eighteen now, and I don’t have to do something that seems to me foolish beyond permission.’ He was shaking a little himself, now. He’d never stood up to his mother before; had never needed to.

She dropped her hand from his arm, and sat up straight and rigid. ‘Then find Theo,’ she said sharply. ‘He must go.’

It made a change, and Gideon thought that by the time he had found Theo she might, perhaps, have cooled down a little.

At first he couldn’t discover where Theo had gone. The butler had no idea. All he could say was that Mr Lauriston had driven off in a hackney. Theo’s valet had no idea, either, but he was so wooden about it that Gideon became suspicious and went off in search of Sorley.

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know, Sorley. You know everything that goes on in this household. I assume he’s found some little ladybird – why be so secretive about it? I must find him, and soon. It’s important.’

Sorley, who had just come in, said with a faintly satirical look in his eye, ‘I would not go chasing after him if I wass you, Gideon. He will not like it at aal.’

‘I don’t care whether he likes it or not! Mother wants him in a hurry.’ But Sorley just smiled. ‘Look!’ Gideon exclaimed irritably. ‘You’re bound to find out sooner or later. Drew’s eloped with the youngest Glenbraddan girl – Shona Randall, you know? – and mother’s in a dreadful state. God knows why, but she wants Theo to rush off on the Mail and try and prevent them from getting married.’ And that, he noted with a certain satisfaction, had wiped the smile off Sorley’s face. ‘In my own opinion, it’s too late already, but perhaps Theo will see things differently. So where is he, Sorley?’

‘He hass gone to Theresa Berkley’s – Mistress Berkley’s. It iss at 28 Charlotte Street.’

The address didn’t mean anything to Gideon, although when he found a hackney its jarvey cast him an unpleasantly knowing look.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Gideon recognized why. There could be no doubt what Mrs Berkley’s profession was. His stomach turning slightly at the blast of warm and perfumed air that met him, Gideon addressed himself to the porter, an ex-bruiser if ever he’d seen one. And not so ex, either. He’d be the bully-back as well, as happy to throw some of Madame’s customers out as to welcome others in.

Gideon knew enough not to say he’d coming looking for his brother. Instead doing his best to look like an embarrassed greenhorn – which he wasn’t, quite – he murmured tentatively, ‘I wonder if I might see Mistress Berkley? Just to discuss what – er – services she can offer. If you know what I mean?’

The porter knew precisely what the young gentleman meant; better, as Gideon later discovered, than he did himself. ‘Busy right now,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Mebbe one of the other young ladies could help you?’

Gideon swallowed his relief. ‘I’d – er – prefer Mistress Berkley herself, I think. I’ve been told that she’s very – um – very understanding.’

The porter didn’t say anything, but just stared at him thoughtfully.

Gideon would have preferred to wait in the hall and catch Theo on the way out, but Theo had left a message that he wouldn’t be in to dinner and Gideon couldn’t risk having to stay here for hours. There had to be a waiting room of some kind, from which he might be able to make a foray into the more secluded part of the establishment. ‘Perhaps I might wait until she’s free? Somewhere not quite as – er – public as here?’

‘Why not make an appointment and come back later?’ But the young gentleman didn’t seem to favour the idea much, and there was plenty of time before the evening rush. Pursing his lips and remembering the old bitch’s fondness for blond boys – she was playing games with one of them right now – the porter relented. ‘Orright,’ he said. ‘Not know about the services? Mebbe you’d like to watch. She don’t usually mind with pleasant young gents like you.’

Speechless, Gideon stared at the man.
Watch
?
If he said no, the fellow would probably turn surly. And it was probably the quickest way to find Theo. But Christ! he thought. He’ll kill me! His voice creaked a little as he said, ‘That would – er – be very – er – instructive.’

The porter rang a bell and summoned a younger edition of himself. ‘Sam’ll look after you. Number seven, Sam.’

Gideon had just enough presence of mind to toss the porter a sovereign before he was led through a heavy wooden door with an eye-level grille in it. The staircase beyond had wide, shallow, thickly carpeted treads, and the walls were invisible behind draped red plush, innumerable candelabra, and more mirrors than Gideon had ever seen in his life. The silence was total. Half-way up, they came to a door set among the drapes and only then did Gideon realize that they had probably passed other doors on the way. Sam, ushering him through, paused for a moment to loosen a couple of ties, and the plush fell with a soft swish to obscure the door from outside. It was, Gideon supposed, as good a way as any of indicating that the room was occupied. He stood in suffocating pitch darkness for a moment, and then there was a whisper of sound as Sam drew back some curtains to allow a glimmer of light into the room.

Nervously, Gideon looked round, but there was nothing here except a sturdy chair drawn up to the right-hand wall. The light appeared to be coming from some kind of picture next to it, a big, amateurish thing consisting of flat areas of paint and very little detail. He looked at Sam and opened his mouth, but Sam wagged a finger at him and waved him to the chair. Obediently, Gideon sat. It wasn’t quiet any more, but he couldn’t identify the sounds.

And then he discovered that the picture wasn’t quite what it seemed. It wasn’t the source of the light, but a transmitter. He was on the wrong side of a glass painting, set directly into the wall, and the light was coming from the room next door. He’d heard about things like this; erotic paintings executed on the underside of a sheet of glass, so that from one side they appeared perfectly ordinary, while from the other – the back – it was possible to look right through, in the places where the paint had been thinly applied. The Chinese were said to be experts in what was undoubtedly this rather specialized field; it was as much as they could do, apparently, to keep up with the orders that flooded in from the bawdy-houses of Europe. Feeling more than a little uneasy, Gideon forced himself to look through what appeared to be a wide and placid river – there were ducks on it, and a water-lily or two – knowing that, although he could see them, the people on the other side couldn’t see him at all. Even if they had been looking.

But they were much too busy. Gideon, his mind reeling, discovered that Mrs Berkley’s was not an ordinary brothel.

He knew, of course, that there were men with unorthodox sexual needs, men who had to be whipped, beaten, flogged, before they could find release. He had known, too, that there were women who specialized in meeting such needs. But he had never dreamed that Theo...

He couldn’t, at first, make sense of what was going on, and closed his eyes. Then he opened them again and looked more carefully. It was hideous, horrifying, disgusting, obscene. It was also very funny in a macabre kind of way. The room was heavily draped in black plush, with swags of it over the curtained windows and on the walls, and coy garlands of scarlet, presumably artificial, roses. Gilt-framed mirrors, interspersed with some fairly explicit pictures, covered most of the free space, and there were great gilt candelabra held aloft in the hands of four marble statues of naked females.

One of the candelabra shook slightly, and the statue’s free hand came up to rub the place where some hot wax had dripped. Gideon gave a choke of laughter, and Sam murmured, ‘Quiet, sir, if you please.’

Here and there, scattered about the room on small, ornate Louis Quinze tables, were Chinese porcelain vases filled not with flowers but with canes, switches, branches of holly, and stiff, nail-studded leather straps.

Reluctantly, Gideon dragged his eyes back to the centre of the room. There was a contraption not unlike a stepladder stretched at an angle between floor and ceiling, its length parallel to the wall behind which Gideon sat so that he had an admirable view of it, above and below. His stomach griping, he stared at the three people engaged on activities he could never have imagined. There was a temporary lull, but even through the glass he could feel the scene vibrating with anticipation, while one of the women carefully selected something from a Chinese porcelain vase. When she turned, she had in her hand a gold-handled, many-lashed whip. She was a big woman, and powerful, with coarse dark red hair pinned up under a hunting beaver, and large feet encased in spurred riding boots. The other woman was much younger, with long black hair tumbling down her back and a nosegay of holly pinned to her bosom. She was seated on a polished leather saddle below and in front of the stepladder.