~ Sunday, Jan 24, 1813 ~
The snow had begun to fall as I sat down to breakfast; huge, flat flakes blanketing the ground and forcing quiet on Piccadilly Street. My staff abandoned their usual duties to follow winter storm protocol. Firewood was brought inside and stacked beside the fireplace. Scones and sweet potato pies were baked. And the chickens were given more pine shavings to keep warm.
For my part, I wrote out missives and made sure they were in the bellman's hand before the storm made it too difficult for him. One missive, in particular, I felt especially urgent. The one I'd written to Captain Remington and his wife. The plan to reunite them in the bedroom had worked, and the two re-consummated their marriage after I had been thrown out of it. They had been all smiles and rosy cheeks as they offered me their undying gratitude, something both felt they could never properly repay. Although, I had lost a potential benefactor, I had gained two dear friends.
When it came time to meet the carriage for my journey to the church, I had some apprehension as to whether the idea was a sensible one. My front stoop had already disappeared beneath a thick layer of snow, and the heavy accumulation on the awning broke loose just as Captain Thompson knocked on my door. He needed a thorough dusting off before we could take our seats in the coach.
"Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" he said as he patted flecks of snow off his boots.
"Do you think we should risk getting stuck on our way back? I doubt the snowfall will let up before the service is over."
"It's just a bit of snow. London has seen worse."
"Yes, not a week ago."
He smiled at me without reserve. "If we get stuck, at least we'll be in good company."
Indeed?
I didn't question why the captain's mood was so favorable. I merely enjoyed it as we exchanged pleasant conversation on the way to Reverend Lawtey's parish. I asked about Alice's recovery, which had been going well, and he informed me of his upcoming boxing match due to occur on the Wednesday next. When we arrived behind the long queue of carriages, coachmen remained busy covering their horses with blankets, and the parishioners annex was open to offer the men shelter from the cold.
Before the captain could detain us at the rear of the church, I nudged him to follow me down the aisle to the front. On my way, I noticed Mister Faircloth and his wife sitting in a forward pew. This surprised me, since I was sure his wife would have suggested another parish after our awkward encounter last week. It must have been the reverend's keen speaking voice and impassioned delivery that brought them back.
Captain Thompson seemed to recognize the couple as well, and he greeted Mr. Faircloth with a chin jut as we took our positions in front of the pulpit. "He's a benefactor, I take it?" he enquired boldly.
"Former benefactor, if you must know." I searched inside my reticule for a handkerchief, hoping he would drop his enquiries.
"How many do you have, currently? By my estimation, there are three."
I released a purposeful sigh before offering a raised brow. "Must we have this discussion now? In church?"
"In the time it took you to say all that, you could have given your answer."
"Maybe I don't want to give you an answer. Maybe I don't think it's appropriate for you to ask."
"I'm just curious."
"That doesn't make your enquiry appropriate. And how did you come up with three?"
"Simple observation. I expect it's the duke, the reverend, and Captain Remington."
I hesitated, wondering whether it was better to let him believe he had gotten it right. That's when Captain Remington and his wife slid into the pew beside us.
"Good morning, Mistress Hayes. Captain Thompson." Captain Remington had a possessive hold on his wife's hand as he smiled at us, and Helena wore the face of infatuation as she directed his hand into her lap. Both were glowing like a pair of honeymooners.
"Hello, Captain. Helena," I offered. "You both look as though the sun greeted you this morning rather than the pile of snow that waited on my doorstep."
"The sun is still shining behind those storm clouds," Helena said merrily.
"Yes, it is," her husband added as he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.
The three of us exchanged a knowing smile, and when I turned to Jules, he looked like someone who had been left in the dark. Or, had been blocked by storm clouds. Captain Remington didn't seem deterred by his friend's puzzlement. In fact, I doubted anything could spoil his sunny disposition.
"Captain Thompson, it's nice to see you taking an interest in the spiritual," he said.
"One doesn't have to be interested in the spiritual to attend Sunday service," Jules offered.
"Agreed. Sometimes it's the company we keep during the service that interests us." Captain Remington winked at his wife, causing her to giggle behind her gloved hand. Their display was enough to make me blush, and I heard Jules whisper 'Indeed.'
Was he confused by his friend's boyish manner? Or was he agreeing with him?
Reverend Lawtey approached the pulpit, silencing the murmurs as his gaze flicked to me for the briefest moment. A gratified smile lifted his lips before he surveyed his congregation, and I liked to think my presence had improved his mood just a bit. The sermon he delivered spoke of relationships and how each one played an important role during our lives; some to comfort us, some to love us, and some to challenge us.
I couldn't help thinking of Jules when he spoke of the challenging ones, and this brought me back to the night prior when I engaged with Captain Remington's manhood while imagining Jules standing before me. Whatever had caused the apparition, and however warm and tingly it had me feeling, I could not encourage it further. What kind of courtesan would I be if I did not offer my whole self to my benefactors?
During the sermon, frequent interruptions occurred when coachman seeking refuge inside the church left to check on their horses. Toward the end, when hymns were being sung with vigor, a coachman walked reverently up the side aisle until he reached the platform. The reverend crouched to allow the man to speak into his ear. With a nod, the reverend dismissed the man and walked back to the podium to await the last note of the hymn.
"Very nice," he said. "Your enthusiasm always lifts my spirits. I have just been informed that the storm has been raging while we sang the Lord's praises, and the coachmen are concerned their horses will not easily navigate London's cobbled streets if they are required to wait much longer. Therefore, we will be cutting the service a little shorter than usual. In fact, some of the carriages have already left, so some of you may have to share a ride. But what better way to forge new relationships!"
As Reverend Lawtey dismissed us, the din of voices and sound of heavy footfalls echoed off the walls as bodies pressed for the exit. Somehow Helena and Captain Remington remained close to me and Jules as we were swept along with the masses. A large group had congregated at the double doors, remaining protected from the wind and snow while searching for open carriages.
"I see our carriage is still here," said Captain Remington. "There's room for six. Why don't you two ride along with us?" He motioned to me and Jules, and I quickly accepted.
Nudging our way through the crowd, I grabbed ahold of my bonnet as a strong gust threatened to unseat it from my head. "Mercy. This has turned into quite a storm." As I fought against the whorls of snow, Jules took notice.
"May I?" He held his hand out, asking that I permit him to take mine. At my nod, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist, tugging me along beside him. "Just another day in paradise," he quipped as Captain Remington swung the carriage door open, allowing me and Helena to climb inside.
When the men had joined us, I noticed Mister Faircloth and his wife being turned away from the coach just ahead of us, which had reached its passenger limit.
"We have room for two more," I said. "Mister Faircloth and his wife appear to be in need of a ride." I pointed at my former benefactor, and he caught my eye as I did.
"Of course," Captain Remington said as he leaned out the open door. "Mister Faircloth. Your carriage awaits."
The desperate-looking couple hurried into our coach, and I felt Jules stiffen beside me as we scooted over to make room. Surely, he wouldn't take issue with sharing a ride with my former benefactor. Despite his feelings for me, this was not the time to be stymied by jealousy. The door closed, shutting out the storm and plunging the carriage into silence. I turned to find Jules surveying the occupants with a look of unease.
"Well, this is likely to be an interesting jaunt across London, eh?" said Captain Remington. He had not lost his healthy glow, which was likely perpetuated by the icy wind, and I felt grateful for his good humour, since Jules appeared to have recently misplaced his. "I instructed the driver to deliver us to the home of Mistress Hayes first, since she lives nearby. Mister Faircloth, you will have to instruct the driver to your residence from there."
"I will. Thank you for sharing your carriage. May I introduce my wife, Rebecca."
Introductions were undertaken, and soon a lively exchange was had as the carriage bumped and bounced with the torrent of wind. At one point, the rear wheel hit something it shouldn't have and Rebecca was tossed off her bottom, landing squarely on Jules's lap. Her embarrassment lasted a good while after the incident.
But that wasn't the end of our interesting jaunt. Just half a block from my home, the blasted wheel broke free of its binding, causing the carriage to list sideways. The horses whinnied, the women screamed, and we were thrown into a jumbled pile at the rear of the carriage as it came to rest against a snowbank.
"Is anyone hurt?" Captain Remington asked as he jiggled the door handle.
The general agreement was that everyone had their wits, and their body parts were intact, although Rebecca did end up in Jules's lap again.
"It appears we have been stopped by a snowdrift," he said as he continued to pry at the door. "And it may be something of a task removing ourselves from the carriage at this angle. I am afraid none of us will be keeping our clothes dry."
"I'm not worried about my clothing. I just want out of this contraption." Rebecca spoke with more force than I had heard from the soft-spoken woman. To which, Captain Remington nodded and heaved the door open with a powerful shove of his shoulder.
Snow crowded into the carriage, but that didn't stop any of us from pushing our way out onto the walk. My boots would require a good polishing after all was said and done, but the more pressing issue was getting out of the storm. The coachman, who cursed like a sailor in a hurricane, appeared to be having a dickens of a time unfastening his frightened horses from their bindings, and Jules hurried to help.
Shielding my eyes, I squinted through the swirling snow to get a better sense of where we had landed. Fortunately, we were just a short walk from my front door. "My home is just on the other side of Swallow Street. Everyone is welcome to ride out the storm there."
"That is very decent of you, Mistress Hayes." For the first time since climbing into the carriage, Rebecca addressed me directly. I knew she must have some animosity toward me. But, at the moment, she seemed desperate for respite as she clung to her husband's arm like a drunk to a lamppost.
Jules and the coachman freed the two horses and led them away from the broken carriage. It seemed we were not the only ones in need of shelter from the storm. "My home has a small stable in the back that will fit both your horses," I said to the coachman. "If you would like to house them there while we wait out the storm, I am happy to accommodate all of you. That is, if they don't mind sharing the space with a few chickens."
The coachman glowered at his carriage while the horse in his care bucked its head against the flurries. "I suppose there ain't much to be done about this heap now." He nodded his agreement, and Jules guided the man in the direction of my home as he encouraged his own equine charge to follow him. The rest of us formed a huddled mass and made our way carefully across the street, our boots dredging through the snow.
After instructing Jules and the coachman where to find the stable, I ushered the rest of the party inside through the kitchen. Jasper was the only body present, searching through an untidy collection of tools. His eyes widened in surprise as he watched us pile through the door, bringing a bushel of snow indoors.
"Our carriage broke down," I said by way of a greeting. "Where are the others?"
"I'm afraid it's just Tilda and me, Mistress. Clara and Douglas left an hour ago to secure their home."
"Oh, that's completely understandable. Will you please help Captain Thompson and the coachman secure the horses inside the stable? They are in a state, I'm afraid. The horses, not the men."
"Straight away. And you'll find Tilda fortifying the guest room window upstairs. I've been remiss in my duty to repair it properly."
Looking regretful, he hurried out of the room. Jasper had a tendency to forget things now and then, which I could blame on his occasional nip at the bottle, but I wouldn't trade him for anything. Although, leaving his dirty tools on Clara's prep table would have earned him a severe tongue lashing from her.
"Follow me to the foyer and we will get everyone's outer clothes hung to dry."
Having heard the commotion, Tilda joined us downstairs, and I set her to work preparing tea and biscuits for everyone. With Jasper still occupied elsewhere, Captain Remington assumed the task of stoking the fire, while I fetched blankets to cover my shivering guests. When Jules and the coachman joined us, we learned the coachman went by the name of Mister Heath. He appeared terribly put out by the unfortunate events, grumbling about the expense he was facing to fix his carriage as he brooded over his cup of tea.
"I work for myself," he said grumpily. "Which means I don't make any coin if I ain't workin'. And I gotta fix what's broken myself."
"Have you given any thought to working for a carriage company?" I said. "Morrisey Carriages offers many coachmen like yourself opportunities to earn a good living without the expense of maintaining your own..."
"Johnathan Morrisey is an arse! He's the reason I struck out on my own. I got a girl who depends on me. And I won't let anyone control me again."
Clearly uncomfortable with the coachman's abrasive manner, Rebecca stood from her chair and walked to the sitting room window, clutching a blanket around her shoulders. "I do hope the storm lets up soon. I hate to be an imposition."
"You're no imposition, Mistress Faircloth," I said kindly. I had found that a gentle tone worked best with her. "I'm used to entertaining guests in my home."
"I'll bet ye are." The comment came from Mister Heath, and although he uttered it under his breath, the silence fell so hard you could have cut it like a fruitcake.
I caught Captain Thompson glaring at the man with lethal intent, and this gave me an idea. "How about a ballad?" I said as I walked to the pianoforte. "I find that a bit of music and song can help ease any sort of worry."
"That depends on how well the ballad is played," Mister Heath groused.
I offered him a smile that could have melted the nose off a snowman. "Why don't you give me your opinion after you have had a listen?"
Fortified by the coachman's grumpy challenge, I set out to recite the best rendition of my favorite ballad from the Minstrels of the Scottish Border. Given the stage, I never shied away from entertaining those in my company, and I didn't hold back as I encouraged my guests to clap along as I sung and played. By the end of it, I was treated to a lively round of applause, and I noticed Mister Heath smiling smugly into his chest.
"That was simply lovely," Helena said. "I have never given myself the opportunity to learn an instrument. Were you formally trained?"
"I was trained by my tutor, Mistress Clementine Price. She is skilled at the fiddle as well."
"Could you see your way to tutoring me?" Helena stood from her position beside her husband and joined me on the piano bench. "I would pay you. I think we would have such fun together." Her eyes twinkled playfully, and the memory of our impassioned kiss returned to warm my cheeks.
The afternoon drew on, with the men conversing about politics and the war in America, after which sweet potato pies were served in the dining room, accompanied by a bottle of port Jasper had decanted. Captain Thompson and I barely spoke three words to each other, as my hostess duties had me constantly engaged. But when my guests, once again, retired to the sitting room after dinner, he detained me in the hall.
"Mistress Hayes, I wish to give you fare warning of Mister Heath while he is in your home. I believe him to have ill-intent with regards to you."
"Captain Thompson. Surely, you must see that he has been upset by the state of his carriage and the loss of a day's wages."
"I don't doubt that plays a role, but it does not lessen the need to be keen to his intentions. He made an indecent comment when we were stabling his horses that I did not take kindly to."
"Oh? What was the comment?"
His lips puckered, and it appeared to take a great deal of effort for him to speak. "He said he knew of your occupation and speculated it would not take much to have you swinging from his chandelier with or without a noble title."
"A chandelier? Is that some new vernacular men are using to refer to their genitals? I daresay, it's a bit of a stretch."
The captain snorted as he gave his head a shake. "You are unlike any woman I've met, courtesan or not. Do you know how insulting his remark was? It took all my restraint not deck the man, because I knew you would not approve of violence in your home."
I took ahold of his hand, squeezing it gently. "I truly appreciate your gallantry, Captain. But I will have you know that the pianoforte is not the only extracurricular talent Mistress Price imparted on me. A courtesan must always be prepared for a gentleman who behaves badly."
A smirk found his face, and his attention was drawn to our entwined fingers. "Do you expect me to believe that? After your fainting incident in the boxing arena?"
"A crowded boxing arena is far different from an intimate exchange between two people. I know exactly where to place my knee should I want to remind a gentleman of his manners."
"Based on my experience in your company, I am inclined to believe you. I just hope I never lose my head around you."
"You have full control over that, Captain. Now, shall we join the others?"
"May I ask a question first?"
I surveyed him warily, having experienced his unseemly enquiries before. "You may."
"Your relationship with the Remingtons seems...overly courteous. Has the captain, indeed, retained your services?"
I knew the question had been there inside his head, waiting to be posed, and I offered a sympathetic smile as I pacified the poor man. "No. He and Helena had a change of heart."
When night fell, and the storm was still proving its worth, I arranged for everyone to stay over. Fortunately, the home boasted three guest rooms besides my boudoir, where the Remingtons and Faircloths could enjoy their privacy. Captain Thompson was afforded a room of his own, while Mister Heath was given the opportunity to share the staff quarters with Jasper, who I felt confident would keep an eye on the man. But Jules still insisted on telling Jasper what he thought of the coachman, and I encouraged Tilda to lock her door when she retired.
It didn't surprise me when I awoke in the night to the sound of silence. There was something about snowfall that made it seem as if the world wore earmuffs, and I stepped out of bed to walk to the window. The heavy gusts had retreated, and the snow now fell in light flurries. A calm came over me as I surveyed the gabled peaks across the street, each one connected by a thick ribbon of white, like the rolling hills of the countryside.
Inside the room, a soft shuffle had my back stiffening, and I felt the presence before I turned to acknowledge the man stepping away from dressing screen.
"Mister Heath. This is a surprise."
"Is it?" he croaked. "I saw ye lookin' my way after the pretty ballad that I complimented ye on. There was desire in those pretty eyes of yers."
While I couldn't remember him breathing a single word about my ballad, I wasn't going to argue with him now. He was standing in my bedroom wearing only his trousers. And based on the looks of his muscular chest, I would say he was no stranger to hard labour. I also expected he had only seen three decades of life. But no amount of youth or good looks excused poor manners.
"I don't claim to know how you interpret a woman's intentions," I offered sweetly. "But, I assure you, whatever you might have mistaken as desire was my way of making sure my guests felt comfortable in my home. And it was certainly not an invitation to enter my private chambers without an invitation."
He seemed undeterred as he approached me rather boldly, forcing me backward into the window. "Don't play coy with me. I know yer kind. And I'll leave something behind for ye. How's three shillings sound? That's a day's wages for me."
"Sir, you are stepping well into the boundaries of indiscretion. I ask that you leave my bedroom now, while your ego and your manhood are still intact."
I glanced at his crotch and found the fastens of his trousers straining with his arousal. That's when I realized how underdressed I was, given that I preferred to sleep in nothing but a gauze chemise.
He chuckled roughly as he brought both hands to either side of my head, trapping me with his body. The sharp scent of liquor wafted from his mouth, and I had to wonder if he and Jasper imbibed after everyone retired.
"Yer threats will only do ye harm. I can spread enough rumours to have yer reputation ruined in less than a fortnight. But, if ye play nice and give me a taste of that sweet scent I've been smelling on ye, I won't breathe a word."
I knew the ways of men quite well, and what lengths they would take to protect their egos. So, his threat cut deep, but not deep enough that I would trade my morals for my reputation. "I am sure your comrades would enjoy the story of how you subdued a courtesan while she showed you mercy during a brutal winter storm. But I expect your girl would not appreciate hearing those stories. Or, maybe this girl doesn't exist. Why would you be here in my bed chamber if you really cared about her?"
"I got a girl," he spat. "But she's inexperienced. I never had a woman who knows her way around."
He brought his hand to my hip and pulled me in as he kissed my neck roughly. "Mister Heath. Stop this immediately, or you will find yourself sleeping in the stable with your horses."
"C'mon, Mistress. I promise ye won't be disappointed." He ground his pelvis into me, and I knew he was not likely to have his mind changed through conversation. At least, I had given it my best effort. I pushed away from the window, steering him toward the bed, and he chuckled as he held me close. "I knew ye would see things my way."
With his thoughts on his manhood, I took advantage of Mister Heath's distracted mind as I drew back my knee, took aim, and landed a blow to his crotch that had him doubling over and wailing like a tomcat in an alley fight.
"Whore! Harlot!"
I ignored his curses as I grabbed him by the foot and dragged his writhing body toward the door. He was quite a heavy load to manage, but it wasn't ten seconds later that Captain Thompson burst into the room.
"What in the blue blazes is going on in here?!" When the situation finally registered, a fire lit up the captain's eyes, and he snatched Mister Heath by the waist of his breeches and hauled him into the hall. "You vile bastard! I'll pummel you until your face looks like potato mash!"
I didn't bother arguing with the captain. He had warned me, after all, and it would have been unkind to rob him of the opportunity to inflict whatever consequence he felt the bastard deserved. By the time Captain Thompson had relocated Mister Heath outside, the entire house was awake, and I found myself retelling the story of our indecent coachman.
"You were very brave to fight him," Rebecca offered timidly. "I could not have done it. Perhaps, I should receive tutoring from you on how to fight off indiscreet men."
"Rebecca, dear. When will you have an occasion to fight off indiscreet men? You are always under a chaperone's care when you leave the house." Mister Faircloth tenderly brushed his fingers across his wife's cheek, and something twisted in my gut.
"Perhaps, if she had the confidence to defend herself, it would not be necessary to enlist a chaperone every time she leaves the house."
Mister Faircloth cocked his head, and I read his astute businessman pose perfectly. "Knowing how to kick a man in his tenderloins is not a necessary endeavor for every woman. Even if Rebecca had such a skill, I would still wish her to be chaperoned."
Spoken like a true misogynist.
While I enjoyed Mister Faircloth's company, I knew his view of women was narrow, like most men of the age. So, I merely nodded and held my tongue. And, because he knew me equally as well, he likely interpreted my silence as my way of politely disagreeing.
Jules returned from his dealings with Mister Heath looking a bit more disheveled than when he left, and he quickly came to me wearing an expression of concern. "I left in such haste, I didn't even ask if you were alright."
"I'm fine."
"Good. The rapscallion will sleep with his horses tonight, but he doesn't deserve even that. If it were up to me, I'd tell him to sleep in his busted carriage."
"I agree," Captain Remington put in. "I would like to see the man tarred and feathered."
Although it cheered me to know the lengths they would go to defend my honour, I had always felt confident in my ability to manage a rapscallion. "With luck, an uncomfortable night in the stable will set him straight. Why don't we all retire back to our beds. I, for one, am feeling the fatigue from this long, challenging day."
As everyone shuffled up the stairs, Captain Thompson joined me at the landing. "May I escort you to your door? While you may not require the services of a battle-ready soldier, it would make this soldier feel better knowing you have been returned safely to your quarters."
I fought a smile as desperately as I could, but it was no use. "That would give me great comfort, Captain. I have not had the chance to thank you for managing our ungrateful coachman. While I am capable of fighting my own battles, that does not mean I don't appreciate the gallantry of a gentleman, especially one who has become a dear friend."
Without giving the matter any thought, I leaned in close and kissed his cheek. After which, I allowed him to shadow me to my room. All the way there, I watched Jules lose his battle with the blush that ultimately conquered his face.