Justine Elyot (7 page)

Looking through the window, she saw Lady Mary with a tennis racquet and wondered against whom she would be playing. Lady Deverell came out a few moments later, similarly equipped, and Edie was transfixed, watching the pair disappear around the corner towards the courts.

Lady Deverell and her stepdaughter. Was their relationship cordial? What if Lady Mary found out about her brother? What if
anyone
found out? Lady Deverell would be ruined, that was for sure.

Perhaps Sir Charles loved her and would stand by her … but that surely couldn’t be the case if he was trying his luck with every pretty housemaid that came along.

No, she was his plaything and he might even have her ruin in mind. It was despicable.
He
was despicable. He ought to be stopped – but how?

Carrie was once more indisposed at supper time, so Edie, much against her will, was detailed to serve the family.

She kept her eye on Lady Deverell, waiting for her to steal a look at Sir Charles, but she did no such thing for the duration of the meal, unless addressed.

What a wonderful actress she was. Edie found herself as full of admiration as of distaste. Eventually, however, she realised why Lady Deverell was not attending to her stepson. She was watching
her
.

She had noticed, without seeming to even look in their direction, how Sir Charles touched her under the table when she served the soup and spoke low words into her ear. Although he kept his face expressionless, the messages were inflammatory.

‘Will you sleepwalk again tonight?’ he murmured.

‘No, sir,’ she whispered back, trying not to slop soup over the edge of the ladle.

Then, when she refilled his glass, ‘Sleepwalk to my rooms. First floor, East Wing.’

At the spooning of the green beans, ‘I will expect you.’

She did not dare reply, certain that everyone must see how her cheeks burned and her bosom rose and fell. She kept a very tight grip on all the serving implements and managed not to drop or spill anything, but it was a severe test.

And now, with Lady Deverell watching her every bit as avidly as Sir Charles did, she felt like a hapless pawn, forced into untenable positions wherever she went. This is what it is to be poor, she thought. This is what life is like for so many girls. Poverty robs one of choice.

And if, after yet another day of soul-sapping drudgery, a pretty girl sought out a little pleasure and glamour in the arms of a rich, handsome man, who could blame her? What else awaited her in life but scrubbing and death? Poor Susie Leonard had only done what thousands before her had. Did she regret it? Would Edie?

* * *

She lay awake, her mind a kaleidoscope of confused and conflicting thoughts.

She knew what she had come here for, but now it seemed she had been shown a further purpose.

She got out of bed, once she was sure everybody else was asleep, and tiptoed to the stairs. She stopped several times and thought of turning back, but her need for knowledge and understanding drove her on until she arrived in that fateful East Wing corridor and stood, trembling from head to toe, at the chamber door.

No, she could not knock. What if this was, after all, the wrong door? And, despite how she had planned to proceed, there was no guarantee at all that she would not find herself, very swiftly, in serious danger, all her plans in smithereens.

She took a few deep breaths. This was lunacy. She would find herself on the morning train back to London the very next day, driven by a purse-lipped sad-eyed Ted, her reputation in ruins, her name a byword for scandal.

She stepped back. She would return to her room.

The door opened and she almost screamed, her knees giving way so that she staggered.

Sir Charles looked out at her through the crack, then he held out his hand.

‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he whispered. ‘Come on. Don’t just stand there.’

‘It’s not what you think,’ she whispered back. ‘It’s a mistake. I’m not …’

‘That kind of girl? Of course. Come in now. Or do I have to come over there and get you?’

She stepped forward and he took hold of her wrist, quickly and firmly, and drew her inside the bedroom.

‘Well, Lady Macbeth,’ he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands, standing far too close.

‘No,’ she said, trying to shake her head free and failing. ‘Don’t touch me.’

‘Don’t touch you? You’ve come to my bedroom in the dead of night and you’re asking me not to touch you?’

‘Please. Not yet.’

‘Oh.’

He dropped his hands from her and cocked his head to one side, examining her through narrowed eyes.

‘What have we here?’ he mused.

Edie felt as if his fingers were still on her skin, still pushing through her hair. She burned in the places he had touched.

‘May I sit?’

He waved a hand towards a sofa in the corner.

‘I’ve brandy in the bedside cupboard if you’d like …’

‘No, no.’

He sat down beside her and took her hand in his, despite her attempts to pull it away.

‘So, then – what is it you want to say to me?’

She couldn’t speak at first, her courage ebbing away, but when he began to stroke her fingers, she found her nerve and blurted it out.

‘I don’t think you should be doing … what you’re doing … with Lady Deverell.’

He squeezed her fingers tight and let out an incredulous little laugh.

‘I fail to see how it’s any of your business … what was your name again? … Edie.’

‘Actually, I think it is my business. I think it’s everyone’s business because we all have to live in this house and if Lord Deverell finds out …’

‘He won’t.’

‘He’s your
father
. And she’s your father’s
wife
.’

Charles was silent for a moment, then he tapped Edie’s fingers.

‘Do I detect the heady scent of blackmail, Edie? Because I can assure you that you don’t want to get on the wrong side of me. You don’t want that at all.’

‘No. No, you’ve completely misunderstood me. I’d never blackmail anyone.’

‘Good.’

He was so close to her. Their thighs touched, his in silky robes, hers in a coarse linen gown. He smelled off-puttingly masculine. His scent wound itself into her resolve, weakening it and strengthening it at the same time.

She liked having her hand wrapped in his. She liked it so much she wasn’t sure she could stand his letting go of it. He was some kind of sorcerer, casting a malign spell on her … why hadn’t she known one could feel like this?

His forehead brushed hers. If she wasn’t careful, she would let him kiss her before the time was right. She had already accepted, at the very depths of her, that the kiss was inevitable. But she could at least put it off until she had stated her case.

Pull yourself together, Edie.

‘So you refuse to stop … consorting with your stepmother?’ she said sharply.

He burst out laughing.

‘Consorting? What kind of housemaid are you? You’re the quaintest little thing. It’s rather appealing.’

‘Please. I’m quite serious.’

‘You are, aren’t you? I’m fascinated by you. Why is this of such concern to you? And why do you think you can come to my rooms and dictate whom I allow into my bed? I should smack your bottom and send you on your way.’

Edie clenched her fists tight, including the one that lay in his hand.

‘You wouldn’t understand my reasons,’ she said. ‘But I see I can’t persuade you.’

‘Oh, you haven’t even tried,’ he said in a low voice, bringing his lips perilously close to hers. His breath smelled of mints and the traces of post-prandial brandy. ‘Go on. Persuade me.’

She wanted to know what his stubbled cheek would feel like on hers, quite badly.

Not yet.

‘I’ll make a bargain with you,’ she said, clinging on to the remnants of her self-control.

‘Oh, will you, by Jove?’ His voice was so wickedly low, right in her ear. ‘A deal with the devil? A Faustian pact? Out with it, then. Don’t ask me to kill any kings for you though, eh, Lady Macbeth.’

‘If you’ll leave Lady Deverell alone … I’ll … let you …’

Dear God, do I mean this? Will I?

‘Let me…?’ His breath, hot, fanning her neck.

‘Kiss …’

Too late. It was already happening. They were kissing, and she had received no undertaking from him that he would stay out of Lady Deverell’s bed.

And now, kissing, a thing she had wondered about often in a vaguely anthropological kind of way. An act seemingly devoid of biological function. The other beasts did not kiss so why did humans? How could the meeting of mouths create a bond or inflame a desire? And what of the secretions inevitably exchanged in the course of such activity? Was it not rather
unhealthy
?

No, no, it was not unhealthy, it was superlatively lovely. Heavens, how lovely. And the desire was kindled so quickly that one stood no chance of repelling it. Within seconds it had seized one, taken one’s body and laid it wide open to the ravages of passion.

Edie had never expected the ravages of passion. She had thought they only existed in the questionable novels the maids enjoyed.

Anyway, it wasn’t
passion
, exactly, was it? More a sort of revelry of the senses. Such revelry that her attempt to keep a grip on herself by means of mental commentary soon failed and she was defeated.

His Lordship’s lips …

They pressed her onwards, whisking her up inside until she quivered like a helpless creature caught in a net.

When he broke off, she had to gasp for breath.

‘Have you ever been kissed before?’ he asked.

She noticed that he held the back of her neck with one hand – how had it got there? Worse, her own hands were gripping the lapels of his robe as if to stop him getting away from her.

‘Of course,’ she lied.

‘I’d find it hard to believe you hadn’t. But you’re trembling so violently – as if you’ve been attacked. You’re afraid, aren’t you?’

‘No.’ Again, it was a lie.

‘Don’t fib. What are you afraid of?’

‘All right. I haven’t ever kissed anyone before. You were right. And I’m only kissing you so that you’ll keep away from, from Lady Deverell.’

His hand tightened, a little painfully, on the scruff of her neck.

‘Really?’ He had taken mortal offence. She should have phrased it differently. ‘You’re
only
thinking of our dear Ruby Redford? This is an ordeal for you, then?’

‘No, it’s not an ordeal. As it happens, it’s rather pleasant. But I don’t care for you, sir, nor do I have any feelings of love or anything of that kind. You’re attractive, I’ll allow, and that makes this easier, but I’m not offering you my heart. I don’t even like you.’

Sir Charles stared, apparently dumbfounded for a change.

Edie had a creeping sensation that she had said too much, been too blunt. She squirmed in his grasp, assessing escape opportunities.

‘Who the devil
are
you?’ he whispered. ‘Housemaids don’t go saying this kind of thing to their lordly protectors. Don’t you understand, this is an
honour
.’

‘Was it an honour for Susie Leonard, too?’

‘Jesus.’

He let go of her and sat back as if struck.

‘I don’t know what your game is, Edie,’ he said slowly. ‘But I’ll find out.’

‘I’ve told you what it is. If you’ll leave Lady Deverell alone, I’m willing to grant you certain liberties.’

‘Don’t you … aren’t you … girls just don’t
do
this kind of thing.’

‘This girl does. This girl isn’t going to be made a fool of for love. My body is mine to use as I wish, and if it can save … some heartache for somebody … then why not?’

‘I never heard anything more preposterous in my life.’

‘You don’t accept my offer? Then I’ll go back to the dormitory.’

She stood.

‘No, you bloody well won’t.’ He patted the seat beside him. ‘Sit back down now.’

She wavered. She did not want to leave now with her objective unmet. But perhaps it would be best all round, after all, if they could agree to forget this encounter and continue as before. Something told her Charles would not accept this and she would be back in London before the week was out.

She sat down.

‘Perhaps we should draw a line under this night,’ she suggested warily.

‘Perhaps we shouldn’t. Perhaps I can’t.’

‘Can’t you?’

‘You can’t leave a man with so many unanswered questions,’ he said. ‘It’s cruel. And besides … I want you.’

Her throat tightened, a convulsion of fearful excitement overwhelming her senses.

‘You can’t have me unless you stop what you’re doing with her.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I do.’

‘You say you don’t want me, but when I kissed you …’

He put out his hand and brushed his knuckles against her neck and up under her hair.

‘Don’t pretend you didn’t want it,’ he whispered.

She couldn’t deny it, and neither could she prevent the way her heart hammered and her blood rushed.

But she could save herself. She could at least do that.

‘You can’t have your cake and eat it too,’ she said, wrenching herself away from his touch and standing. ‘Leave Lady Deverell alone and I’m at your disposal. But until then, goodnight.’

She whirled around and ran for the door, suspecting he would give chase.

She was right, but she made it to the corridor while his enraged cry of ‘Edie!’ still rang in the air. She didn’t dare look back but, by the time she had reached the servants’ back staircase, nobody was at her heels and she was able to lean back against the wall for a moment and let the giddy swaying of her head settle.

What on earth had she just done? And what would happen now?

He wouldn’t say anything, she decided. It wasn’t in his interests to have her sacked and besides, as a housemaid she should be beneath his notice.

Slipping back into bed, she could not help but think of how differently things could have been. She could have been in Sir Charles’s bed, in his arms … what would that be like? When kisses went further … Oh, she could not think of it.

She had offered a man her body.