Justine Elyot (6 page)

‘Yes, you awful, awful beast of a man, have your way with me.’

Edie grimaced. It sounded so
savage
, almost as if she hated her husband. Perhaps she did.

And then tears came to her eyes as she matched the violent, half-delirious voice with the mellifluous tones she had heard on stage, playing Beatrice in
Much Ado About Nothing
. This was what she had come to – loveless coupling with an old man who had bought her.

‘Oh, Ruby Red, you’re mine, you are,’ vowed a deeper voice, snarled up in pain by the sound of it.

‘I’ve told you, don’t call me that!’ objected Lady Deverell, and then her words were muffled, as if he had placed a hand across her mouth.

‘I’ll call you what I damn well like, you bitch.’

Edie drew in a great breath, almost nerved to hammer on the door and drag that dreadful man off his poor wife. But then she heard the most unexpected sound, a high-pitched melting into pleasurable surrender, still coming from behind the obstructing door but none the less clear for it; then falling, sobbing, into a deep sigh.

‘That’s it,’ hissed Lord Deverell, almost inaudibly – but by now Edie’s ear was honed and she caught every syllable. ‘You love it, don’t you? You love what I do to you. Oh, God.’

And now it was his turn to tumble into that dangerous uncontrollable place his wife had just visited.

He made the most terrible, frightening sounds, like a man raging into battle, and Edie saw his feet stretch straight out, every muscle tense, then relax.

The feet flexed and moved, all four together, while the coverlet tent collapsed. The voices lowered to murmurings and languid kissing.

Edie, feeling horribly sick, stood straight, wanting very much to run outside and get some air, regardless of the lashing rain, which had begun again.

She heard Lady Deverell from behind the door say, ‘Oh, darling, must you?’ and then – oh, heavens! – the Lord’s reply, very close to the door.

‘I promised Mary. She’ll garrotte me if I disappoint her again.’

Was
that Lord Deverell? Suddenly she was not at all sure. But it could not be …

Edie almost fell over her feet in her haste to get away. A very quick examination of the corridor around her yielded no curtained alcoves in which to hide, nor was it possible to get to the staircase in time. The handle was already turning.

Perhaps one of these other rooms would be unoccupied?

But before she could try one, the door was open and in the corridor in front of her, resplendent in paisley silk dressing gown, was …

But she could not let her jaw drop, could not make any kind of exclamation.

Now she had to use all of her own dramatic powers, or everything was lost.

She stiffened and widened her eyes, making them stare out of her face at the man who stood in front of her.

‘Good God,’ he said. ‘What’s this?’

She said nothing, maintaining her tense, glassy-eyed posture as she walked slowly towards him.

A streak of lightning almost made her jump, but she mustn’t. She must appear oblivious to all around her.

He took a step closer, his head on one side. Edie saw a gleam of recognition brighten his grey-blue eye.

‘It’s the new girl, isn’t it? The parlourmaid?’

Edie stood her ground and stared as if looking straight through him.

‘The old sleepwalking gambit, eh?’

He snapped his fingers in her face.

She did not flinch.

‘Looks like stronger measures are called for,’ he said, and he took hold of her arm and brought his face, dark with wicked intent, so close to hers that she could smell Lady Deverell’s perfume on him. He was going to kiss her! No, he could not …

She pretended to come to her senses, letting her limbs loosen and her breath rush from her in great gasps.

‘Oh,’ she exclaimed. ‘Whatever is this? Where have I come to?’

She tried to shake herself free of him but he was not having it, and he marched, dragging her along with him, to the nearest empty room, into which he unceremoniously pushed her.

‘Please,’ she remonstrated. ‘Please let me go back to bed. I didn’t mean to be here, I swear it.’

He took his hand from her and folded his arms, glowering darkly down at her.

‘I don’t know who you are or what you saw,’ he said in a low, menacing tone. ‘But, whatever it was, you’ll do well to forget it. Do you understand me? Not a word to anyone.’

‘I promise, sir, I won’t … I didn’t … anyway. I don’t know what you mean, I’m sure.’

‘Hmm, I’m sure,’ he said, looking at her assessingly, his eyes all over her, making her flush hot and drop her gaze to the ground.

‘I’d better get back,’ she said, half-turning.

He put his fingers under her chin, gently holding her in position, shaking his head and tutting his disagreement with this proposition.

‘You
are
the new parlourmaid, aren’t you?’

She nodded, constricted somewhat by his unyielding grip on her face.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Edie. Edie Cr–, uh, Prior.’

‘Edie Cruuur-Prior?’ he repeated, tauntingly. ‘Unusual name.’

‘Just the Prior. I changed my name when my mother remarried. I forget, sometimes.’

He regarded her for a silent stretch of time, during which Edie committed his face to memory – its angles and shadows, the prominent nose, the full, sensual lips, the gleaming eyes, the lustrous dark hair, the cruel, handsome whole of it.

He looked utterly heartless to her, and glitteringly magnetic at the same time.

She was more afraid than ever.

‘You know who I am, of course?’

‘You’re Sir Charles, I think, sir.’

‘That’s right. I’m Charles Deverell, Lord Exley, heir to the estate. How’s life in service so far, Edie?’

‘Tiring,’ she said, tripping over the words in her anxiety. ‘I’m tired. I should sleep.’

‘Yes, they treat you like working dogs down there, don’t they? My hounds have a better life. But I’ll give you a little tip, Edie. Be a good girl, and you might find that there are perks to your job.’

His fingers brushed up her cheek, so lightly that the caress in them could almost be attributed to the air.

‘Are you a good girl, Edie?’ he whispered.

Weakness rinsed through her limbs. She had no reply to offer.

‘Tired,’ she whispered, her lips quivering.

He seemed to take a step back, though in reality he did not move. The seductive intensity in his eyes broke and he smiled, half-laughing.

‘Yes, you’re right, it’s late and I don’t have much more in me, much as I’d like to test the proposition.’

‘You and Lady Deverell–’

He held up a finger.

‘I’ve told you. Seal your lips. Well, until I want to unseal them, that is.’

That dazzling grin again, unsettling as a punch to the solar plexus.

‘I suggest,’ he continued, ‘that you take the three wise monkeys as your template while you’re working here.’

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

‘I understand, sir.’ She looked towards the door and he relented.

‘Run along then, Edie Cruur-Prior. Perhaps I should speak to Mrs Munn tomorrow about having a lock put on your dormitory door. But only if I can have a key.’

She turned and fled, running through the corridors and up the staircases, losing her way half a dozen times, until the low-ceilinged corridor that housed the staff dormitories appeared at the head of the uncarpeted back stairs.

All three of her roommates were deep in sleep, making the most of time away from dishpans and dustpans. A flash of lightning lit the room and she noticed how red and coarse Peggy, the young scullery maid’s, hands already were, and her only fourteen years old.

Edie inspected her own hands, pale and unblemished. How long would they remain so?

Her stomach was in knots and her head whirling when she lay down and tried to sleep through the thunderous rain. This had been a terrible idea. She had knowledge she did not want now, about Lady Deverell, and she had played directly into the hands of Sir Charles, who might now hound her with seduction attempts.

Which she would, of course, repel.

Of course.

He was attractive and all that, but he was dangerous. Far too dangerous, a giant ‘Keep Away’ sign in masculine form. She couldn’t afford to take risks.

But he chased her into uneasy sleep, as if the warmth she had felt radiating from his dressing-gowned post-coital body had seeped into her pores and remained there, a vestige of his presence tormenting her from a distance.

In her dreams, his fingers brushed her face again, and then they went further, snaking into her hair, luring her closer, until their bodies touched and then their lips. If dream kisses were like real kisses, then how did people ever stop? The richness of the sensation turned her inside out and left her helpless and overwhelmed.

***

A hideous clangour shook her out of Charles Deverell’s dream arms and ripped his dream lips from hers. The other girls were already out of their beds, yawningly splashing their faces in the basin or pulling on uniforms.

She took twice as long as they did to get ready and had to rush breakfast. She did not have time to talk at all until she and Jenny were in the corridor with their feather dusters and their tins of wax, ready to set to work on the skirting boards.

‘What does Sir Charles generally do all day?’ she asked.

Jenny gave her a furious look.

‘I want to know so that I can avoid him,’ Edie explained.

‘Oh, I see. He goes out a lot, motoring in that new monster of his. Plays tennis with Lady Mary. Walks his dogs.’ She looked up as if the ceiling might give her more information. ‘Not much, when you think about it. What I’d give to live his life.’

‘Does he have nothing more to occupy him at all?’

‘He has some dealings with the estate and some of Lord Deverell’s landed tenants. There’s a manufactory outside Kingsreach that he sometimes goes and … does things … at. I don’t know. It ain’t my place to know, is it?’

‘I suppose not. And … Her Ladyship. Has she a great many interests?’

‘Lord, why are you asking me? She is always going out to lunch. And she works for a lot of charities, sits on committees, all that kind of thing.’

Boredom has thrown them together. Boredom and disaffection.

And passion. But Edie did not want to think about passion.

She had no choice but to do so, however, when she and Jenny entered the morning room to clean it and found Sir Charles there again, as he had been yesterday. Was he here because he knew she would be?

Edie kept her head down, passing behind his chair in the hope that he might not notice her.

But the hope was vain.

‘Our Lady Macbeth,’ he said, putting down his newspaper.

Edie, whose hands already shook, was almost overcome with panic. What on earth would Jenny think of this? She made no reply and rubbed harder at a greasy fingermark on one of the window frames.

‘You’ll have to remember your taper next time,’ he added. ‘Won’t you?’

There was a silence. From the corner of her eye, Edie saw Jenny’s horrified countenance. Presumably she would have to answer, now he had asked a question.

‘I’m not sure what you mean, sir,’ she said.

‘Hmph. Have it your way.’ The newspaper rustled again and no more was said.

***

‘What was all that about?’ asked Jenny furiously, once they were out of the room.

Edie, enjoying the sensation of being able to breathe again, shook her head.

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Lady Macbeth?’

‘I don’t know Shakespeare.’

‘I bet you do, with all your London theatre-going. What’s he on about?’

‘I’ve told you,’ said Edie, and she couldn’t keep a rising note of antagonism from her voice. ‘I don’t know.’

Jenny was put out and conversation was scarce for the rest of the morning. At lunch, Jenny sat with all the other girls at the opposite end of the table, whispering and casting glances over at Edie.

Her heart sank. She was friendless here.

Until Ted strode in, put his peaked cap down on the end of the table and snagged one of her slices of bread and butter.

‘Hey!’

‘Cut yourself another,’ he said. ‘I’ve just driven all the way back from town at a steady forty miles per hour. I’ve earned my daily bread.’

He sat down beside her, warming her with his presence and his cheeky smile.

‘You’re still here then,’ he said.

‘Somehow,’ she replied with a grimace, then she whispered. ‘I’m not sure how long I’ll last.’

‘When’s your day off?’

‘Wednesday.’

‘Well, I hope you’ll last till then. Cos I’d like to take you out.’

‘Oh!’ Edie blinked rapidly. Was this a proposition? Was he expressing romantic interest in her? She was so inexperienced that she hardly knew if his intentions were amorous or merely friendly.

She decided to assume the latter.

‘Well, perhaps a walk out into the country would be nice,’ she said. ‘Or … something of that kind.’

‘His Lordship’s got a shoot on that day. I won’t be needed. I’ll see what’s on at the picture palace, shall I?’

‘Well, I suppose so,’ she said dubiously.

‘Don’t knock me out with enthusiasm, girl.’

She saw Mrs Fingall beaming approval as the others muttered and looked daggers. It seemed she couldn’t please Jenny and her friends – Ted and Sir Charles were a rock and a hard place, apparently. But which was which?

‘Mrs Munn, I think Edie knows her way around now,’ said Jenny as the housekeeper came to join the meal. ‘May I go back to working alone?’

‘Does that suit you, Edie?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Edie sighed. It didn’t, not really. She still had so much she wanted to learn from Jenny. But if she wanted to believe stupid things of her, then that couldn’t be helped.

‘I’m not entirely sure you’re ready, but I’ll give you a chance.’

* * *

Edie was assigned to the seldom-used upper rooms of the East Wing and she spent the afternoon alone amongst the treasures, having no company but her thoughts. She listened constantly for footsteps on the stairs or in the passage, dreading an unexpected rendezvous with Sir Charles, but apparently he was out.