Anne Barbour (31 page)

“Are you not? Proud of it? Do you not preen yourself on your ability to keep women at a distance? To keep your feelings for them on a purely physical level?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Hester sighed. “I suppose the fact you can recognize what I can only consider a serious flaw in your character means there is some hope for you—Thorne. Perhaps, in your renewed search for a bride, you will keep that in mind.”

“My renewed—? Oh. Yes. That brings me to my second apology. I’m sorry for barking at you about Barbara. It all came as a shock to me and it was hard for me to accept her—defection, but I shall admit to you now—freely—that it was all for the best. Had I known that her heart was engaged elsewhere all these years, I would never have allowed our—unspoken relationship to continue for so long. I truly do wish all the happiness in the world for her and her Robert—and so I shall tell her—both of them, at the earliest opportunity.”

“Handsomely spoken,” said Hester, rising. “You may consider your duty done, Thorne, at least as far as I am concerned, and I accept your apology—both of them. I really must he running along now, however. My speech—-

“No!” Thorne exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “There is much more I would say to you, Hester.” He stopped again, observing the reserve with which she was gazing at him. Without thinking, he reached inside himself, pulled out The Smile and pinned it to his lips. “Hester, you and I—What is it?” he concluded, for she had become quite rigid and her fine brows had drawn together.

“Nothing. I’m sorry, but I cannot stay. I have much to do to prepare for my lecture tomorrow night.”

Thorne’s heart sank. He had known this is how it would be. He had at last met the woman who could teach him how to love and he had driven her away, like a madman in the desert, dying of thirst and refusing a drink of water. “Of course,” he said woodenly, stepping aside to let her pass. He cleared his throat. “I had not intended to be present at your lecture, but, if you would not mind—

“I would rather you not,” she replied quickly, a look almost of fear on her face.

“Of course,” he said again.

Hester stopped as she neared the door. “Oh, by the by, I have made plans to leave London day after tomorrow. I have purchased a ticket on the mail, and—

“No! You cannot leave so soon. Not now, when—” He sagged suddenly. “Very well, but you will not take the mail. My coach will take you home. Please, let me have no argument,” he added as she opened her lips. “Let me do this for you.”

She paused a moment, and it seemed to Thorne that she waited for him to say something more. When he did not, she lifted a hand in an oddly forlorn gesture and left the room.

Thorne returned to the hearth and without awareness, rubbed his hands before the blaze. He remained chilled to the bone, however, which was not surprising, he thought bleakly, since all the warmth in the chamber had left with Hester’s departure from it.

                  *    *    *    *    *    *

“Chloe, that bonnet will do nicely. If you return to your bedchamber to change it, we shall be late.”

Lady Bracken stood at the foot of the stairs in Bythorne House, her voice raised admonishingly as she adjured her nephew’s ward to, “Hurry along now, my dear, and do stop dawdling. Mr. Wery will be here at any moment,” she added for good measure.

Chloe, midway up the stairs, turned and descended with some reluctance. “Well, I want to wear something becoming, but not too frivolous, for it will not do to—Oh! Hester, there you are!” she exclaimed as that lady appeared at the head of the stairs. “My, don’t you look smart.”

Hester, garbed in a sober ensemble of twilled silk, smiled faintly. “Thank you. Do I look like a female to be taken seriously?”

She was not, she thought, precisely nervous, for she had spoken many times before large assemblages. Still, she felt an unaccountable trembling, which, if she were to be honest, she must ascribe more to the state of her heart than the state of her nerves.

She had seen little of Thorne since their interview in the library. Despite herself, she had entertained the hope that he would attend her lecture, but apparently he had taken her expressed desire that he stay away at face value.

Well, she had resigned herself to life without him. It was best to start now. It was simply hard to admit that the cure was as painful as the ailment.

With an effort, she widened the smile directed at Gussie.

“You look,” pronounced her ladyship, “like Boudicca prepared to lead her troops—in a more fashionable ensemble, of course.”

Hester laughed. Then as a knock sounded at the door, she hurried down the stairs.

“That must be Trevor,” she said, once again usurping Hobart’s duties.

But it was Lady Barbara and Robert who entered the house. Greetings were barely accomplished, however, when another carriage drew up before the house to disgorge Mr. Bentham.

John Wery arrived some minutes later. He greeted his betrothed with a light kiss on the cheek, and the group milled about in an aimless fashion until Trevor, assuming control, raised his voice.

“I think we had best be on our way, Hester. You are scheduled to speak in less than an hour, and we shall want to be early. Sir Gerard will be waiting for us.” He glanced around. “Are the footmen ready?”

“Yes,” replied Gussie, for she had taken it upon herself to arrange the matter. “We have four stalwarts awaiting us outside. They will be in their own vehicle, of course—and not in livery.”

“Good.” Trevor rubbed his hands together with an air of decision. “Shall we be off, then?”

Officiously, he swept everyone outside to be filed into various carriages. As they rolled away into the north-central area of the London environs, Hester was struck, as she had been so many times before, by the difference between the manicured elegance of Mayfair and the squalid ugliness of Seven Dials, such a short distance away. It was one of the most notorious sections of the city.

When they reached the Blue Boar, an uncharacteristically large and prosperous tavern in Grafton Street, a crowd had already gathered upstairs in a spacious chamber illuminated by lanterns hung from the ceiling and along the walls. A promise of a lavish buffet had brought together a varied conclave of females. All were of the lower orders, from women with underfed babies on their hips, to garishly painted prostitutes, to poorly clad females whose occupations were less obvious.

There was also a sprinkling of women garbed in clean if inexpensive muslins and cottons. These were protégés of Sir Gerard Welles and others who had taken up Hester’s cause. They circulated among the crowd, exhorting their less fortunate sisters to take advantage of the programs

being offered.

Most were clustered around a lavish refreshment table and did not lift their heads from their urgent consumption when Hester and the contingent from Bythorne House arrived. This, despite the fact that Mrs. Honoria Blount was addressing the room from the podium. Mrs. Blount held the unusual position of secretary to Lady Glasbrooke, who had been instrumental in opening a school for impoverished young women just a few buildings down Grafton Street.

Hester moved about the room, greeting those known to her and shaking hands with those who were not. One of the latter was a tall, dark-haired man introduced to her as Mr. Theodore Smart, a surgeon who had recently opened a free dispensary in nearby Crown Street, a few blocks away from the Blue Boar. He was an ardent believer in improving the plight of the neglected scraps of humanity who visited him in their furtive legions every day.

“I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to meet you at last, Miss Blayne,” he said through a mouthful of ham sandwich. He had the air of a young man who never took the time to eat properly. “I’m afraid many of the young women I see have neither the intelligence nor the ambition to better themselves, but there are others who would be excellent candidates for the schools that are being set up. I only wish there were more of them—schools, I mean.”

“Perhaps someday there will be, Mr. Smart. In the meantime, the work you do here is invaluable. I understand that many a young woman hereabouts has been saved from dying in childbirth, or some sort of barbaric abortion technique, or even malnutrition and abuse, because of your efforts.”

Mr. Smart cast a darkling look about the room. “I could be doing more if it weren’t for the interference of some of our more undesirable local element. The bully boys of the neighborhood have no desire to see their meal tickets getting ideas above themselves.”

“You mean ideas of equality? And the suggestion that females have brains, too?” Hester smiled. “It is not merely the likes of those men—” She waved an arm toward the surly, unshaven males who were also availing themselves of Sir Gregory’s culinary largesse. “Most of the gentlemen of the upper classes share that one attribute with their underclass brethren.”

“However,” said the surgeon with a worried glance about him, “these men are a trifle more dangerous. I must tell you, Miss Blayne, they are very much opposed to your proposed lecture, and I cannot help wondering what they are doing here.”

“I can tell you that, Mr. Smart,” said Hester calmly. ‘They are here to heckle. They make a great deal of noise, but carry little substance.”

“Let us hope so.” He gestured toward a particularly unpleasant-looking personage who closely resembled the stuffed rhinoceros she had once seen in the Egyptian Hall.

“His name is Bill Brickley, or simply ‘Billy Bricks’ and he is not given to empty threats.”

“Well, I trust—

“Miss Blayne,” Sir Gerard, a portly gentleman in his early fifties had placed his hand on her arm, “I think we are ready to begin. If you will mount the podium, I shall introduce you.”

A few moments later, after a somewhat inflated encomium by Sir Gerard, Hester was launched on her speech.

Chapter Twenty-two

“Good evening,” Hester began, “how many of you are happy with your lives as they are?” When she received no other response beyond a few bursts of derisive laughter, she continued. “How many of you would like to change your lives, if only you were showed a way that seemed possible?”

This time, after a few moments, several hands were raised tentatively. Hester stood silent and looked around the crowd, gazing with sympathy and openness into the faces of each of the women who stood before her. More hands appeared, until almost with a sob of union, every hand in the room waved fiercely.

“Tonight,” said Hester, her voice cool and clear, “I am going to show you that way. I am going to show you how you can have something of your very own that no one can ever take away from you. The ability to grab with both hands at that new life and to hang on to it.”

As she observed the fire of response lit by her words, Hester was off and running. For some fifteen minutes, she spoke almost without taking a breath. She could sense the flame building within her audience, but as she swung into the segment on the possibilities through education for women who wished to better themselves, she noticed a stirring in the back of the room. More men seemed to be entering, each one larger and uglier than the one before. They ranged about the man referred to by Mr. Smart as Billy Bricks, shuffling in a menacing fashion and shifting from one foot to the other.

Unseen by Hester, another figure stood at the back of the room. Thorne listened to Hester, his own breath bated with awe. He had struggled with himself all day before deciding to attend tonight’s forum, but in the end he could not stay away. He was glad he had come, he admitted. Hester was magnificent. It was obvious she spoke to the women’s very souls, without talking down to them or making inflated promises.

Before entering the Blue Boar this night, he had known he wanted Hester at his side for the rest of his life; now he knew he could not ask her to abandon her mission in order to be a wife and mother. Was it possible, he wondered, for her to accomplish both? With the help and support of her husband could she manage to inflame the world—or, at least one small corner of it—with her call to arms while reserving a small portion of her passion for him? She cared for the multitudes. Could she care for him and maybe two or three children born of their love for each other?

A strange excitement swelled within him like an inflating balloon, not only at the prospect of winning Hester, but of actually doing something useful with his life. It was a new concept, but one, he thought, that would bring him great pleasure and challenge.

The balloon suddenly turned to lead. There was one thing he had forgotten in his grandiose plans. Hester did not like him—as a human being or as a man. If he could only persuade her to remain in London, perhaps he—

His thoughts were interrupted as he was jostled by three newcomers to the lecture. They were men, burly and sullen-looking, and they smelled of the stews. As Thorne watched, several more sidled in. Pausing for a brief whispered conference with a burly fellow in a greasy cap, they ranged themselves along the back wall with a dozen or so others who had preceded them. They moved awkwardly, and as one of the men pushed past him, Thorne caught sight of a stout cudgel concealed beneath his coat.

Thorne edged slowly to a position along the side wall, where he could get a view of the entire contingent ranked along the back. Yes, they were definitely receiving instructions from the man in the cap.

A glance around the chamber revealed that the only other males present were those who had accompanied Hester from Bythorne House, plus Sir Gerard and a tall thinnish chap who might or might not be able to hold his own in a fight.

Lord, had no one thought to arrange for a real force of men to act as bodyguards? He began to edge his way toward the front of the room and Robert Carver, whom he judged to be the most able of all those present. Before he could make any progress, however, his attention was caught by the sound of a rough voice.

“Oy, mort! ‘Oo’s goin’ t’be takin’ care of the bebbies whilst the wimminf’olk are out prancy-fancyin’ with mathy-matiks and the like?”

It was, of course. Billy Bricks who spoke, and he was joined by a chorus of his supporters.