Dangerous Decisions (20 page)

Cora's spirits were high as she set off for what was quite a long walk, but which led to the pub that was becoming her favourite. She was already becoming known there and greeted with cheeky banter; but she was being true to her promise, a bit of flirting and horseplay she both allowed and encouraged, but no man would have what she gave Johnnie. After all, as she kept reminding herself, his money put clothes on her back and food in her belly. The evening in the cosy bar began like any other as she sat with Ruby who used to work there as a barmaid, until she had the bad luck to develop varicose veins.

‘It was the standing,' she'd told Cora when they first met. ‘I was in agony by closing-time.'

She and Cora had forged a friendship based mainly on Ruby's wicked sense of humour. Cora hadn't laughed so much since she'd left Belle's and yet again she thought how restricted and quiet her life had been since she'd taken up with Johnnie.

‘I'm orf,' Ruby said eventually, heaving her bulk off the stool. ‘I've got to get me old ma to bed. Our Cissie can't do it cos she's got the flu.'

‘See you tomorrow night, then?'

‘Not if I see yer first!'

Cora laughed and watched her jostle her way through the crowd. And it was then that she noticed the tall good-looking man in a brown suit standing by the bar. As Ruby pushed past he glanced over towards the corner where Cora was sitting and she tilted her head and smiled, hoping to get a free drink. Slowly he began to make his way over and on reaching her small mahogany table removed his cap and said, ‘Good evening, may I …?'

She shrugged. ‘I don't mind.'

‘Would you care for a drink?'

‘I'll 'ave a port and lemon, thanks.' She spluttered as she saw him raise a hand to summon someone. ‘Er. You'll 'ave to go to the bar, ducks.'

As he turned away, Cora watched him. If there was one thing she prided herself on, it was summing up men. And her waters were telling her to be on her guard, there was definitely something funny about this bloke. He didn't have an accent for a start, in fact if it wasn't for that cheap suit she would have taken him for one of the gentry. When later he returned with a port and lemon and another small glass Cora felt even more suspicious. ‘Crikey, it isn't often I see a bloke with a short!'

‘A short?'

‘Your drink.' Was he stupid or what? She peered at it. ‘What is it, anyway?'

‘Vodka. I asked for vermouth but they didn't have it.'

Cora stared at him. ‘What are you doing, slummin' or something?'

She saw his expression change. ‘What makes you say that?'

‘Look, ducks, I've never known a working man order a poncy drink like that!'

He smiled across at her. ‘Let's just say that I like to be different. By the way, my name is Edward but most people call me Ned. And yours is?'

‘Cora. Cora Bates.'

‘It's nice to meet you, Cora.'

‘You're not the usual type what comes in here, I know that.' She took a sip of her drink. ‘You don't fool me. Few men do.'

‘Now why would I want to fool you?'

‘Mebbe you do, mebbe you don't.'

‘Let's just say that there was someone I needed to see.'

‘Looking for Ron, are you? It's a fool's game. I've never met a poor bookie, and I should know cos I've had plenty as punters. And don't pretend to be startled, I bet you'd guessed what I am. I'm not ashamed of it either. But I'm spoken for, so don't go getting any ideas.'

‘There's no reason we shouldn't enjoy each other's company, is there?'

‘I suppose not.' She watched as he picked up his glass. Whatever he did, it wasn't labouring, not with those hands and finger nails. ‘What do you do?'

‘Do?'

‘For a job. I take it you do 'ave one.'

‘Oh I see. I'm a clerk.'

Well, Cora thought, that could explain his soft hands and perhaps even the way he talked. ‘So you're clever, then.'

He smiled at her and she felt her pulse quicken. He was a charmer and no mistake.

‘Oh yes,' he said softly. ‘I can assure you that I have a brain.'

‘Well, don't think you're the only one. I never had no education, that's all.'

‘And if you had, what would your ambition have been? For instance, if you could choose, what would you want to do with your life?'

She stared at him. He didn't seem to be the usual type who wanted to ‘rescue' her from a life of sin. They usually wore a dog collar.

‘I want to have me own flower shop.' The words came out sharp, challenging.

‘You want to open a flower shop?'

‘Yes, that's what I said – I want a flower shop. Nothing wrong with that, is there?'

He shook his head. ‘It would take a fair bit of money, though.'

Her reply was short. ‘I'm saving up.'

He nodded to her almost empty glass. ‘Would you like another?'

‘I'll 'ave the same again, seeing as you're asking.'

Cora frowned as she watched him make his way to the bar, almost seeming to hold himself apart from other people. He was a strange one. She was not only enjoying herself, she was curious. Now what could this bloke be after, cos she'd bet a pound to a penny he wasn't in this pub by accident.

As soon as soon as he returned with the drinks he said, ‘You interest me, Cora. In fact I'd like to make you a proposition.'

She looked at him warily. ‘I've told you, I'm not available.'

He shook his head. ‘I don't mean that.' He paused, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘I take it you were intending to find some premises to rent, for your flower shop I mean.'

Cora narrowed her eyes; he didn't half talk in a posh way. ‘That was me idea.'

He cast a glance over his shoulder even though the cramped corner where they were sitting was reasonably private. ‘How would you like the cash to buy one outright? You'd make a lot more profit and it would be cast-iron security for you.'

‘I'd like to be the King's mistress, but I don't suppose I will. Where would I get that sort of money?'

Slowly he downed the rest of his drink. ‘I would give it to you.'

Taken aback, she could only stare at him. Then with a grin Cora said, ‘Oh yes, pull the other one!'

‘You know, Cora, it never does to judge a book by its cover. Or in my case,' he said, glancing down at his suit, ‘by what a man is wearing.'

Cora stared at him. ‘You know you're a right mystery, you are.'

He smiled. ‘Good. Let's keep it that way. But I'm serious. You help me out in a little matter, and I'll pay you …' he paused then leaned closer, ‘the princely sum of one hundred pounds.'

Cora burst out laughing. ‘Aw come off it, where would you get a flaming fortune like that? Look, ducks, I wasn't born yesterday.'

‘I mean it. In fact, I'll make it guineas.'

His tone was sharp, and no matter how Cora searched his eyes in bewilderment, all she could see was steely determination. ‘You can't mean that you could actually put your hands on …'

‘Keep your voice down. Yes, without a doubt.'

Her mind began to race. Was this bloke an out and out nutter? Or – and she hardly dared to believe it – could he be on the level? She studied him, noting his well-cut hair and expertly trimmed moustache. Yet that suit was terrible. Cora glanced down at his shoes – they weren't much cop either. She looked across at him and held his gaze. ‘Go on then, convince me.'

‘Would it help if I promised to give you half of the money first and the rest once the matter is attended to?'

She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Are you saying you'd give me over a hundred quid just like that?'

‘Not exactly, I'm not a fool. You'd have to agree to my plan and convince me you could carry it out.'

‘I see. What exactly is “this little matter”? Cos if its robbery or some other hare-brained idea, you can forget it, money or no money.'

He shook his head. ‘It's nothing like that. But I have no intention of telling you now. I'm going to give you some time to think about it. But I warn you, Cora,' his eyes bored into hers and she realised that this was not a man to mess about. ‘Say a word to a living soul and the deal's off.' He got up from the table. ‘Remember, a chance like this comes only once in a lifetime. Do you know St John's Church gardens?'

‘Yes, of course I do.'

‘I'll meet you there tomorrow at midnight.' He turned to pick up his cap. ‘And don't be late.'

Stunned, Cora stared after his retreating figure. He must be off his rocker to think she'd meet a stranger in the dark at a creepy spot like that. After all, they never did catch Jack the Ripper! Then she told herself that she was being daft, this bloke was much too young to be
him.
However, later, after she had made her way in excited confusion back to the apartment, Cora found it impossible to sleep, instead pacing the rooms in an effort to control her fevered imagination, seeing in her mind a lovely pile of golden coins, despite all her misgivings wondering what a hundred guineas would actually look like.

It had been after midnight when Helena, who was finding it difficult to sleep, heard the faint click of Oliver's bedroom door closing. He had probably been to one of the gambling clubs, but knowing that he would never risk losing Graylings, she had no fears that he might follow his cousin's example. Perhaps once Selwyn was married, even he would become more responsible, although from what Helena had heard of his future bride, Caroline Vasey, she doubted it.

After breakfast the following morning, Oliver immersed himself behind the
Financial Times
, while Jacob declared his intention to go into the City. Beatrice, now fully recovered, went to catch up with her correspondence, and Helena followed her normal routine of going up to the top floor. The nursery had been completely refurbished, with pink-and-white striped wallpaper, tiny pink rosebuds edging the plain curtains, a rocking horse in one corner, and already a larger cot in readiness for when it would be needed. Nanny Evans, having travelled from Graylings accompanied by Betsy the young nursery maid, had settled in comfortably and as the door opened, glanced up from the nursing chair.

Helena smiled at her. ‘Good morning, Nanny. Did she have a good night?'

‘Good morning, Mrs Faraday. Yes, bless the little soul, she slept straight through.'

‘That's wonderful. And she is still taking the powdered milk well?' Helena had been disappointed to cease breastfeeding after only a month, having intended to continue for longer than the six weeks Oliver had stipulated. But unfortunately, nature had decreed otherwise.

‘There are no problems at all, Mrs Faraday.'

Helena went over to the crib. ‘Hello, sweetheart,' she said softly, looking down into the blue eyes that met her own. ‘Are you going to come to Mummy, then?' Lifting her little daughter into her arms, she turned. ‘Perhaps you both might care to give me a little time alone with her?'

Nanny, who was forthright in her views about spoiling children, gave a heavy sigh and rose, while Betsy, who was both excited and over-awed at being in the great city of London, scuttled after her.

Alone, Helena was able to indulge both herself and her child; to enjoy the warmth of the small body in her arms as she strolled to the window to show her baby the blue sky and the world outside, loving the scent of her, whispering how much she was loved. She paused after a few moments to gaze down at the tiny extra fingers, wondering yet again whether they would be limiting. Even if Rosalind had some talent for music, Helena was uncertain whether she would be able to master the piano. Certainly, she would have difficulty with the ‘five-finger' exercises Helena had needed to practise. Would a stringed instrument be possible? ‘We have so much to learn, little one,' Helena murmured as the small head nestled against her shoulder. The dusting of hair was still dark, but Nanny seemed to think it would soon change, forecasting that Rosalind would grow up to be a true English rose.

And it was then, as she kissed her child, that Helena finally faced the truth. She had to accept what she had long suspected, that her marriage had been a mistake. Swept along by girlish infatuation and a desire to please her father, Oliver had appeared so charming, had been so eligible. But Helena knew now that she didn't love him, had never really loved him; despite being the father of her child, there was something in Oliver's nature that chilled her. Yet as she looked down at her now sleeping baby, she knew that whatever happened in the future, she would never regret having Rosalind.

That evening Jacob frowned when he realised that Oliver once again planned to dine at his club. That probably meant that he would be out until all hours again, gaming. Didn't the man realise that he was now married and with a family? Raffish company and the sowing of wild oats – not that he suspected his son-in-law of the latter – was a pastime for bachelors. He himself had never had any interest in risking hard-earned money in the pursuit of such shallow pleasures. ‘Rather hard luck on the ladies,' he said, ‘having to put up with just my company again.'

‘What's this?' Beatrice swept into the room wearing the dark green dress that did little for her sallow complexion. ‘Deserting us again, Oliver?'

‘I'm afraid so.' Oliver turned as Helena came in to join them and waited until the butler had poured her a glass of sherry before he said, ‘Your father is right, my dear. We all need a little more stimulation. What do you think of having a dinner party?'

She smiled. ‘But of course.'

Jacob rubbed his hands together. ‘Now that is an excellent idea. With your approval, Oliver, there are a couple of parliamentary members I would rather like to invite, naturally in the company of their wives.'

‘I did hear that Mrs Shirley is in town, staying with her sister,' Beatrice said. ‘Do you remember her, Jacob? We met her at Graylings.'

‘I do indeed, a delightful woman.'

‘And could I suggest that nice young doctor who came?'

They all stared at Beatrice in astonishment.

‘Don't look at me like that,' she said. ‘If I remember correctly, Oliver, Dr Haverstock dined with you at Graylings.'

‘That is true, but it was unavoidable.'

‘And did he eat peas from his knife?'

Jacob exploded into laughter. ‘Beatrice, I do believe you're becoming a Socialist.'

She glared at him. ‘Heaven forbid. I just thought that Dr Carstairs was an excellent young man.'

‘That may be so,' Oliver's voice was firm. ‘But I think not, Beatrice.'

Helena, who had listened to the conversation with growing horror, felt almost giddy with relief. No matter how she longed to see Nicholas again, the prospect of being in the same room, dining at the same table, all the time conscious of Oliver's scrutiny and her father and aunt's perceptiveness – she could never have kept up such a pretence.

‘And you, my sweet, do you have anyone in mind?'

‘I'm wondering if Peregrine is in London. Why don't I invite Dorothy to spend a few days with us?'

‘There,' Oliver said, ‘we are already compiling a list of guests. So shall we agree on a date?'

Cora had decided to go. Hadn't she struggled to save every penny these past years, concealing her hoard of coins behind that loose brick in her bedroom at Belle's? Only the week before she had discovered in the library a book called
Starting Your Own Business
. Cora had not only learned about such terms as cash flow and overheads; there had been a whole chapter devoted to the dangers of venturing into business with too little capital. And she knew that the sum she had – she knew the amount to the last farthing – fell far short of what would be needed. Cora had no illusions about men like Johnnie. He was a decent sort and she was fond of him, but she knew that he would tire of her after a while and then it would be back to Belle's. She was well aware what her future held. The ‘mirror dread' would begin. All the girls suffered from it. Every year laid its stamp on the complexion, and soon a body would begin to thicken, its breasts sag. Belle was strict about standards. What would follow could be the streets and Cora was determined that would never happen. So, she had decided. St John's Church gardens it would be. But she was wary enough to secrete a sharp pair of scissors in the pocket of one of her ‘sensible' skirts. A girl could do a lot of damage with a pair of scissors.

She could see him in the distance, standing before the railings. There was no one else around and as she walked towards him, a match flared in his fingers as he lit a cigarette. ‘I thought you would come.'

‘You've been proved right, then.'

‘You haven't talked to anyone?'

She shook her head.

‘Good. So I take it that you're interested in my proposition?'

Cora squared her shoulders. ‘I don't know what it is yet. But before you tell me, I want to know why you came looking for me. And don't deny it either.'

‘I have no intention of doing so. I knew you were ambitious. However, it would betray a confidence to explain further.'

Cora decided that it could easily have been one of her punters. A couple of glasses of bubbly did sometimes make her careless. She held out her hand. ‘Show me, then.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Show me the guineas. Prove to me you're telling the truth.'

‘Really, Cora, you have very little trust in people.'

Her voice was quiet, determined. ‘Show me.'

She stepped back as he put a hand into his inside pocket, her own closing around the scissors. Cora stared down at the golden coins in his hand.

‘Satisfied?'

She nodded.

‘So now I want you to listen. And don't either interrupt or argue.'

They stood a few feet from each other beneath the branches of an overhanging tree. His words were steady, his explanation clear. Cora was under no illusion about what he planned to do. ‘A hundred guineas,' he said. ‘Think of it, Cora. Think how it would change your life.'

She took a shaky breath. ‘But …'

He held up a hand. ‘I have done my research, the plan is foolproof. But you can see now why I need your help. A few hours of your time, Cora, that is all I ask.' He moved closer to her. ‘Now you wouldn't ever think of going to the police, would you?'

‘I'd cut me wrists before I'd get involved with
them
.'

‘Good. Now I want you to think about it very carefully, especially your part in the plan. When you describe to me what you've concocted, I will give you the first half of the money.' He began to turn away, saying over his shoulder, ‘I'll be here for your answer at the same time two days from now.'

Cora, shaken by what she had just heard, closed her eyes as she leaned back against the railings. In a silence broken only by the hoot of an owl, she knew to her shame that she was tempted. Into her mind came the phrase ‘thirty pieces of silver', thundered from the pulpit on the one and only time, when out of curiosity, she had gone to a church service. Cora was often devious and many times in her life she had used cunning, but she had never done anything remotely like this. Yet even as she began to make her way back to the apartment, her feelings of shock was lessening. Cora's conscience might be troubled, she might even be afraid, but this daring scheme held the key not only to realising her dream, but to securing her future.

And almost to her horror, by the time that the light of dawn came filtering through the curtains, she had made her decision.