Vice and Virtue (13 page)

Thinking about these things made Aurora’s heart heavy. But when she opened her eyes she saw that Edward’s own melancholy had increased. He hunched his shoulders, twisted his hands together until he noticed what he was doing, then stopped. He released air slowly down his nose, his lips in a narrow line.

“You are right,” he said. “I have asked too much of you. I will take you home and continue my quest alone.”

There was no doubt that Aurora would very much like to be Miss Eversedge again. But as she lay there against the pillows, her gaze resting on her husband, she realized with a rush of compassion that he did, indeed, love her. If she stripped away the guile, the art, the trickery and bargain-making of their first encounter, what was left was love. His remorse was real. But so was her belief, taught to her by her father, in the uncompromising pursuit of a just cause.

“Edward,” she said decisively, “listen to me. There is no question of my returning home. I will go to Spring Gardens with the Deedes tomorrow. I will play my part as Aurora Drayton and do everything I can to discover either the secret, or the identity of the blackmailer. Not one of the Deedes connects Aurora Drayton with either Henry or Edward Francis, and that is her most powerful weapon.”

Edward was silent for a long time. Aurora waited, watching the yellowish light strike the prominent bones of his face. Then his shoulders went down a little. He blinked and ran his hand over his chin, rubbing his beard as Aurora had often seen men do when they have not shaved for many hours.

“Very well,” he said with an almost-invisible nod. “I must leave it up to God to keep you safe.”

Aurora reached for her hat. “I will go and rest now,” she said, feeling, for some reason, awkward. But she could not think of anything to add that would take the awkwardness away.

They looked at each other. Edward’s face was inscrutable again; Aurora could not tell what was in his mind or his heart. Then he broke his gaze and seemed to collect himself. “I am to meet Richard at Will’s Coffee House tomorrow evening,” he said in a brighter tone. “He has a letter from Hartford House for you.”

“Then I thank him for that.”

Edward’s calm expression did not change. “When I see him, I will congratulate him on the success of the skeleton key, for he is the craftsman who made it.”

It was at that moment that the world fell in on Aurora. She sat up so suddenly, and with such horror on her face, that Edward rose and came to the bedside, very concerned. “What is it?” He gripped her hand. “Are you unwell?”

“Oh, dear God!” she cried. “Oh, Edward, I have left the skeleton key in the writing desk!”

His mouth opened, and he blinked rapidly, but he did not speak.

“Celia and Joe came in just as I had closed the lid of the desk,” continued Aurora. “I had no business being near it, so I pretended to swoon. Dear God, my stupidity has undone us!”

“But the key is probably still there, unnoticed,” he offered.

Aurora shook her head desperately. “There is worse, I am afraid. Celia reminded me I had not taken books for my brother, so I asked Joe if he would select some for me to collect tomorrow.” She looked at Edward, then looked away again and withdrew her hand. She could not bear the admonishment that was bound to come. “Joe will go to the library and find the key, and all will be lost!”

“Not necessarily.”

She turned her head. Edward’s eyes were fixed on hers, full of concentration. “You have given yourself the opportunity to enter the library tomorrow,” he observed. “When you collect the books, you can also collect the key. If Joe Deede has seen it, he has no reason not to think his father left it there. He will not connect it with Miss Drayton. As long as Josiah Deede himself does not discover it, we are safe.”

Aurora chewed her lower lip, trying to believe him, her imagination galloping. “Supposing Joe removes the key, assuming it to be his father’s, and takes it to Josiah?”

“Josiah Deede is a clever and devious man,” he said seriously, “but if his suspicions are aroused we must be cleverer and more devious. Above all, we must not underestimate him.”

He stood up, snuffed the candle and put on his coat and wig. “I am going out. Do not unlock the door. I will return soon, and bring food.”

Aurora rose too, and stood by his side. “Edward…”

He put on his hat. Beneath its brim, his eyes were black and inscrutable again.

“I am sorry,” she said, looking at the floorboards. “For doubting your father’s innocence, and for forgetting the key.”

“Very well, but I am not sorry at all.”

She raised her head. “What do you mean?”

“Aurora, the crisis has come. By tomorrow evening we will know whether Josiah Deede will show his true colours. The question then remains: when will he strike?”

Double-dealer

W
hen Harrison opened the door Aurora walked past him before he could object. “Mr Joe arranged for me to collect some books when we return from Spring Gardens this evening,” she said, opening the library door. “I wish to inspect them.”

“Very well, Miss,” said Harrison with a bow. “I will inform him and Miss Celia that you are here.”

Aurora could already hear Celia’s excited voice from the landing. She crossed the library to the cabinet; the key was where she had left it. Faint with relief, she removed it with shaking fingers and put it into the deep pocket in the seam of her dress. Then, labouring to draw sufficient breath, she seized the pile of books that lay on the table and opened the first one.

“Aurora!” trilled Celia, entering in a rustle of silk and holding out her hands. “How fine you look!”

“Thank you,” replied Aurora. Her breathing had almost returned to normal. She put down the books and smiled amiably. “But not as fine as you.”

Celia was wearing a gown embroidered in shimmering shades of brown and silver. From her corseted bosom to her trailing hem, from the lace on her sleeves to the silver adornments on her shoes, she sparkled with wealth and newness. “Oh, nonsense! Your hair is
beautiful
. And is that a new hat?”

Aurora had spent a long time attending to her hair, cursing the cramped quarters and lack of a dressing-table, and wishing Hester were there to help her. But the result had brought the unsmiling remark from Edward that the style was surprisingly flattering, considering it was also fashionable.

“If Joe is not in love with you already, he will be before this evening is over!” smirked Celia. “Your beauty will attract the attention of all who pass by!”

Aurora fervently hoped not.
She
might never have set foot in Spring Gardens before, the admission price being too high for Mrs Eversedge’s means, but any one of her parents’ acquaintance could be amongst its visitors this evening. If she should see someone she recognized, she would have to rely on the unexpectedness of the company she was in, the stylishness of her coiffure and the wide brim of her hat to persuade them that she was not Catherine Eversedge’s eldest girl after all, but merely a young woman who bore some resemblance to her.

She turned as the door opened and Joe came in, smiling and wishing her good evening. In place of his usual worsted coat he wore a dark suit edged with gold. From its wide sleeves hung ruffles adorned with lace, and his waistcoat was embroidered as luxuriantly as any Aurora and her sisters had observed on titled gentlemen in St James’s Park. The suit, like Celia’s gown, looked newly delivered from the tailor.

“I trust you are recovered?” he asked. As he made a small bow, his admiring eyes remained on Aurora’s face. She had to struggle to control her feelings; she was flattered, because she was made of human flesh and could not help it. But blushing like a maidservant would not do.

“Quite recovered, I thank you, sir,” she told him. “And I thank you also for looking out these books for my brother. I will take them home later, when I have explored every part of Spring Gardens.”

He gave a short laugh, holding out his arm. “You may
begin
to explore the Gardens tonight, Aurora, but several more visits will be necessary before you can say you have explored
every part
. The area is perhaps larger than you are aware.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Aurora, taking his arm. “But I would still like to see it all.”

“Then I look forward to many more visits there in your company,” said Joe politely, with another slight bow.

Aurora did not speak; her neck and cheeks felt hot.

“Joe has been there many times.” Celia threw Aurora a knowing look as she took her brother’s other arm. “He knows there are alleys so well hidden a man and a woman may very easily separate themselves from their companions!”

The Thames lay, silvered by the evening sun, between the landing stage where the carriage deposited them and Spring Gardens. Aurora had been up and down the river on boats before; it was a swift means of London travel, especially in winter when mud or flood made some streets impassable. But she had never been on a boat like the one that ferried her and her fellow pleasure-seekers to the gates of the Gardens.

Many of the passengers seemed the worse for drink, and those who were not might as well have been, from the high state of their excitement. There was much flirtatious behaviour; Aurora’s face was examined by so many strange men she pretended to object to the river breeze, and put up her fan. Celia seemed not to mind who looked at her own countenance. Neither did Joe seem averse to ogling the elegant young women clustered on the benches, or standing in the prow holding their hats on and laughing.

This wealthy society into which she had blundered, Aurora thought ruefully, had lessons for her. Like the Theatre Royal, another place of entertainment to which the admission price was set to exclude the lower orders, Spring Gardens lent itself to vanity, intoxication and a loosening of propriety. If she were to pretend to be, or even one day actually become, a member of this society, she must revise her own conduct.

Joe was in high spirits. “Supper begins at nine o’clock,” he told Aurora as they showed their tickets and entered the gates. “Before we sit down to sup, there will be music. Perhaps even a singer. I confess I do like a singer, especially a lady, do you not?”

Aurora did not reply. She was barely conscious that he had spoken. How she wished that Flora and Eleanora could see this! It was scarcely believable that London streets and the river Thames were only yards from where she stood. It was as if she had entered fairyland.

Before her stretched a long walkway edged with trees hung with lanterns. To the left and right spread alleys between banks of foliage – secret, overarching and utterly charming. There was a place for an orchestra and pavilions where food and drink could be purchased. Beneath an awning, tables were laid out for the grand supper. Everything sparkled – the evening sunlight between the branches, the lights, the decorations, the finery of the ladies and gentlemen. Everywhere Aurora looked there were people strolling, laughing, chattering, meeting old acquaintances and being introduced to new ones. There was much curtseying, fluttering of fans and tossing of heads amongst the young ladies, and much bowing, strutting and banter amongst the young men. To Aurora it seemed like a dance performed by hundreds of lavishly dressed dancers, moving to an accompaniment of orchestral music, and washed by waves of many other sounds.

“Astonishing!” she breathed. “I had no idea!”

“Spring Gardens are the envy of the world,” Celia told her importantly.

“Of course.” They had begun to make their way along the main walkway. It was slow-going, such were the crowds, but Aurora did not mind. “I do not think I have ever seen a more charming place!”

“And here is a charming person,” said Joe drily. “Someone you know, Aurora.”

Approaching them, waving her fan and showing all her teeth, was Mrs Fellowes. “My
dears
! And Miss Drayton too! What luck!”

Joe bowed and waited while Aurora and his sister curtseyed to the older woman. Then, smiling, he asked, “You are without Mr Fellowes this evening, madam?”

“I am,” sighed Mrs Fellowes. “He says he is tired of the Gardens. But I will never tire of them, and I told him as much. ‘Go alone, then,’ said he, so I took him at his word. Though I have my friend Mrs Partridge with me.” She scanned the crowd. “She is probably getting us some refreshment. She will not wait until nine o’clock, I fear.”

“Then I am of Mrs Partridge’s mind exactly,” said Joe gallantly, turning to Aurora. “Will you join me in seeking some refreshment?”

Aurora accepted, aware at the corner of her vision that Mrs Fellowes and Celia were exchanging meaningful glances.

“Let us step this way,” said Joe, offering his arm.

“What about you, Celia? ” asked Aurora.

Celia smiled archly. “I shall go with Mrs Fellowes to find Mrs Partridge, who is always full of
interesting
stories. We shall all meet again for supper. Fare you well.”

Joe bought two glasses of wine. With one in each hand, he led Aurora along a twisting path, screened from all the others, where they came upon a large tree with a wooden bench set around it. The bench was already partly occupied, for here was an opportunity for girls and their admirers to escape their chaperones.