Beloved (37 page)

Uncle Calum had left for Scotland before first light and Ella hadn’t caught as much as a glimpse of Saber all day.

As the coach rolled noisily over cobbles, Ella watched the buildings they passed. Nightfall was almost upon the scene and
a purple blush across the rooftops made the sun’s final bow.

Ella did not even know how long it might take to get to Drury Lane.

But Saber would be there.

The coach made great speed. Ella clung to the edge of the seat. Outside the windows, daylight failed entirely, replaced by
a dusky, smoke-laced haze. A wide swing around a corner brought narrower streets into view.

Those people Ella saw with the aid of streetlamps appeared more meanly dressed. Impressive buildings gave way to less splendid
structures, then to narrow, crowded dwellings above businesses with shuttered windows.

The coachman had taken a wrong direction! Ella stared from the windows, but could scarcely make out anything between the streetlamps
now. Definitely the wrong direction.

She attempted to rise and knock for the coachman’s attention, but was promptly thrown back into her seat by another reckless
turn.

Her heart thumped so hard, she heard its beat in her ears.

“It will be all right,” she said loudly. Sometimes, as a child, she’d found that speaking in a large voice drowned out the
fears inside her head. “I don’t know the way to Drury Lane. But Saber will be there. Saber will be there!”

The wheels clattered and the coach bounced. Each abrupt tip of the carriage flung Ella to the right or to the left. Her reticule
shot from her lap and slid beneath the seat opposite.

“Saber!” she cried.

No, this was not right. This was wrong. Something was wrong.

The coach slowed as unexpectedly as it had speeded up. Ella’s back pressed into the squabs. Squealing, the brakes took hold
and the wheels ground more slowly. A great clatter of hoofs sounded, and the whinny and snort of the horses.

“Whoa!” The coachman’s voice rose above the rattle of tack.

Ella pressed her hands over her ears, closed her eyes, and waited until all movement ceased. She would have a thing or two
to say to the driver.

“Out you come, then.” The door swung open. “ ’Urry up. Can’t ’ang around.”

“How
dare
you?” Ella was forced to sink to her knees and scrabble beneath a dusty seat for her reticule. “You drove wildly. Lord Avenall
shall hear of this.”

“Whatever you say, miss. Right now I want you out of my coach so’s I can be on me way.”

Trembling, brushing at her skirts, Ella emerged from the carriage to confront a taciturn man who handed her down none too
carefully.

He slapped the steps away and slammed the door. “Right then. ’Ere you are, safe and sound.”

“Safe—”
Ella avoided scanning her surroundings. She knew what she felt here. Danger. “This isn’t right. I’m supposed to be met by
Lord Avenall. You should have taken me to Drury Lane.”

“I follows orders,” the man said, rubbing the back of a sleeve over his brow. “You’re Ella, ain’t you?”

She ignored his impertinence. “Yes.”

“Then this is where you was supposed to come.”

Ella breathed slowly and made herself look about.

Two lighted bay windows set apart by a gilded front door. A bronze cat on each side of that door
.

“Take me away from here,” Ella said weakly.

Even as she spoke, she heard the coach move on.

A sign in one of the windows read:
THE PERFECT SIZE AND SHAPE FOR EVERY GENTLEMAN. OUR LADY TAILORS FIT TO YOUR DEMANDS. WE WELCOME THE MOST SINGULAR DESIGNS.
NO REQUEST DENIED.

“No!” Ella whirled around—and confronted a gathering ring of ragged, begging urchins with outstretched hands. “Saber!”

Surrounded by the chanting children, she swung back toward the building. Women sat in the rosily lighted windows. Each female
appeared engrossed in her sewing.

“No! No! No!”

The gilded door opened. A stooped, white-haired man came to Ella and took her wrist in a clawlike grip. “Welcome, Ella,” he
said. “I’ve been looking forward to this. You’ve been missed, my dear. Welcome back to Mrs. Lushbottam’s.”

The satisfied set of Grandmama’s face amused Saber. “A small glass of sherry, perhaps?” he suggested. “Since it seems we are
destined to wait a little longer for our vision to appear.”

“Just a small one,” Grandmama said. A message delivered to her bedchamber, informing her that Saber and Ella would be at the
theater this evening, had brought her downstairs to the green salon in remarkably short order. “I must say that I’m gratified
by your decision to be sensible, Saber. Not that it’s anything less than I expect of a grandson of mine.”

“Sensible?” he asked innocently, bringing her the sherry.

“Deciding to do the expected thing. Taking the girl about a bit. Courting her a bit.” She sipped. “Always knew this was the
right thing, y’know. You and Ella.”

“Really?” What would the old lady say if he told her it had been Ella, rather than himself, who had been “sensible” enough
to set the wheels of conventional courtship in motion?

Saber glanced at his watch. “Don’t suppose you could explain to me why females take so damnably long to dress?”

“Kindly refrain from cursing in my presence.”

He grinned.

“You are a disrespectful whelp,” Grandmama said, not quite hiding her own smile. “A female requires time to make certain everything
is just so. Unless I am very much mistaken, dear Ella will make our wait very much worthwhile.”

A missed heartbeat suggested Grandmama was anything but mistaken. But they were in danger of missing the opening curtain.

Max strolled in and pulled up at the sight of Saber. “Thought you’d gone to the theater.”

“I will be going to the theater,” Saber told him. “Just as soon as your sister puts in an appearance.”

“She’s gone.”

Saber frowned.

“Well”—Max turned away, then back—“I was just at her rooms. Rose said Ella had left.”

“Stand still, boy!” Grandmama demanded. “And speak sensibly. Ella cannot possibly have gone anywhere. She will be leaving
with Saber and, as you see, Saber is still here.”

“Crabley!”
Max’s sudden shout rang through the house. “Crabley!”

The butler appeared almost immediately. “You
called
?” he said to Max.

“Ellie. My sister.” Max’s face had paled. “Where is she? Did she leave?”

Crabley’s round black eyes darted past Max to Saber. His face worked before he said, “Lord Avenall? Oh my. Oh dear.”

“In God’s name, man,” Saber said, striding toward him. “What’s going on here?”

“You sent a carriage for Miss Ella, my lord. Because you… The coachman said you’d sent him because you were detained on business
and that you’d be at the theater to meet Miss Ella. She went with him. More than an hour since.”

She’d never expected to see Uncle Milo again. When her mother died he made no attempt to contact her, although he’d known
where she was at that time and finding her would have been simple enough.

“I expect this feels like coming home,” he said, when they’d passed through a vestibule carpeted with the big pink roses and
lattices Ella had hoped never to see again. “Not quite as elegant as you’ll remember it, but times were…Well, they were
difficult
for a while after I took the place over from Mrs. Lushbottam.”

At last Ella managed to speak. “That …I thought this place would be gone.”

“No, no, no. Lushbottam owed your mother and me. All came out afterwards. This was the only asset, so it came to me. But I’ve
had hard times. Oh, yes, very hard times. Come in here and sit down, my dear. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you.”

The past curved forward. All that had been, all that Ella had tried to forget, blossomed around her. She walked without feeling
her limbs move, entered the sitting room that had been Lushbottam’s without feeling herself pass from the vestibule.

“Right here,” Uncle Milo said, his thin fingers digging into her arm. “You sit here and I’ll tell you what we’re going to
do.”

She all but stumbled backward into a chair covered with roses of a different variety from those on the floor.

The door slammed shut.

“Now.” Uncle Milo faced her. The years since she’d last seen him had brought little change. He might be even more stooped
and his ragged eyebrows might jut more ferociously over his still bright-blue eyes, but he was the man who had always been
at her mother’s side.

“Why are you in this place?” Ella asked, disliking the faint sound of her voice.

He rubbed his hollow face. “Instead of roaming the fairs in a wagon? Mystical Healer? Detector of Ills? Bearer of Forgotten
Powers? Needed your mother for that, girl. Never was much for mixing up whatever went into those bottles we sold. Anyway,
time comes to settle down. You know that. By all accounts you found yourself a comfortable arrangement.”

“What do you want?” Ella said. Her throat was so dry, it burned. “Why have you done this?”

“
Done?
What d’you mean,
done
? I haven’t done anything but bring someone I’ve missed to visit me.”

Ella’s mind began to clear. “How did you know—about this evening? How did you know I would expect to go out in a carriage?
You did know, of course. And you took advantage of the opportunity to snatch me away.”

“Oh, come, come, now. I didn’t ‘snatch you away.’ It was only that I happened to hear something about your plans for the evening.
I didn’t think you’d mind a little change in the name of family feelings.”

Family feelings?
“I’d like to leave now, please.”

He shook his head. “You wound me, Ella, really you do. I come to you in distress and you don’t even want to talk to me.”

“You didn’t come to me …” What did it all mean? “Let me go.”

“In good time. I’m in a very bad position, Ella, very bad. I need you. And I know you’ll want to help out in any way you can.
For old times’ sake.”

She made to get up, but he pushed her back. The smile was gone now. “Did you hear me, miss? I need money and I know you’ll
want to help me. In your dear departed mother’s name.”

Ella struggled to order her thoughts. Someone had found out she was to go to the theater with Saber, someone
… someone who knew about her ties to this horrible place. That person had arranged to intervene and have her brought here.
But who?
Who?

“You’ll do as I ask,” Uncle Milo said. “Then we’ll all get on with things as they were and forget this little piece of business.”

“What can I possibly do to help you?” Ella said, evading his hand and getting to her feet. When he reached for her, she stepped
back. “Kindly do not touch me. I can listen as well standing as sitting.”

“Oh, we have become a lady, haven’t we? At least on the outside. We do know what you are on the inside, don’t we?”

Ella held herself erect.

“Daughter of a whore.” His eyes flickered. “A woman who sold her body to any man willing to pay the price of using it.”

“How could you?” Disgust made Ella cold, but blessedly unafraid. “My mother was your sister. She is dead. You will not speak
ill of her to me.”

“Such a lady.” Uncle Milo shook his head. “We’ll just have to get through our business and let you go back to primping and
pretending, won’t we?”

“I’m late for an appointment,” Ella said.
Nothing
. This was the nothing she had come from, and from which she could never be entirely free.

“I know all about your appointment,” Milo said. “But never mind that. I’ll put this to you simply. I’ve got a customer who’s
willing to pay a great deal for some of your time.”

Ella squinted at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you? Oh, I think you probably do if you think about it. After all, if it was good enough for your mother—when she needed
to help out—then it’s good enough for you. What you’ve got to offer isn’t any different from what she had. Younger, that’s
all. And probably prettier. Who knows why this customer wants you rather than anything else I’ve got to offer, but he does.”

“Who is this—this person?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Let me go!” Ella moved toward the door. Milo hobbled to bar her way. “I don’t have any idea what you can be asking of me.
I do know you’re insulting my mother’s memory. I hate you for that. I’m going home now. You may expect to be called to reckoning
for this.”

“Called to reckoning.”
Milo mimicked her. “I don’t think so, my lovely girl. You just listen to what I’ve got to say. Then we’ll understand each
other and everything will go much better.”

“I won’t listen.”

He approached until his face was only inches from hers. “If you want to continue with this lovely life you’re pretending you’ve
got a right to—you’ll listen. Understand?”

She crossed her shawl tightly over her breasts.

“That’s better. The customer wanted me to tell you that you’d better remember how easy it was to take you away from your
family
tonight. And it’s going to happen again.”

“No!”

“It’s going to happen again,” Milo repeated. “But if you play the game quietly—and generously—you’ll only be borrowed now
and again.”

“Borrowed?
” Ella clutched at her throat. She would be sick.

“Borrowed for a few games. That’s what was said. And in return I’ll be free of any worry about money. Seems fair enough, doesn’t
it?”

“You are nothing to me,” Ella said. How would she get away from here? “Do you hear me? Nothing.”

“I’m wounded,” Milo said. “But I’ll get over it. My customer will borrow you—just occasionally. And he’ll always send you
back—unless you disobey him.”

“This is beyond all!”

“You must never give yourself to any man—unless you’re told you can. Do you understand that? It means you mustn’t spread your
legs for anyone who isn’t paying me for the privilege. Think of it as family loyalty—loyalty to your
real
family.”

Ella looked into the cold eyes of the man she’d once thought of as her only male relative, and knew desolation.