The Bargain (17 page)

“So you are saying that you kissed me because of Carlton House?” Ariel felt foolish repeating what he'd said, but she couldn't quite believe that was what he meant.

“Under the influence of the atmosphere I mentioned,” he agreed. “However, I have solved that problem. I am moving out within the week.” He gazed at her as if he expected congratulations.

Ariel returned his gaze. He was the most intelligent man she had ever encountered, she thought, and he was an idiot. Did he truly believe that this nonsense explained his behavior? And if he did, why did he wish to? She swallowed, suddenly finding the answer to this question all too clear. He didn't want to take any responsibility or face any consequences. She was forced to swallow again. Her mother had been right after all, Ariel thought. Men wanted to enjoy their pleasures and then go their way. The kisses that had devastated her meant nothing to him—except perhaps the threat of recriminations. And worse still, he refused to admit his own nature—that he was just like other men, after all. This hypocrisy was more despicable than crass seduction.

Ariel took a shaky breath. The realization hurt. It was a sad, sour pain worse than any snub or mockery she had ever endured before. The tightness of her throat increased, bitter with unshed tears.

“So, you see, I have found a solution,” Lord Alan added encouragingly. “I came to tell you that you need have no concern for the future.”

In other words, she was not to expect anything from him, Ariel thought. She was not to think she could make demands or assume any privileged position. She was to keep quiet and go along with his fabrications. Her chin came up. They would see about that. But she certainly wasn't going to whimper and cling. She wasn't going to protest that he had made her feel as if her heart had gone empty and vacant. She would make him believe it didn't matter. “What about the ghost?” she managed. “I thought the prince wanted you on the scene to stop it.”

“Ah. I have good news on that score as well. Michael Heany and two of the other actors from the theater were apprehended last night as they tried to leave for Carlton House. The young woman was already made up as the ‘ghost' and they had chains and other things with them that proved they had been behind the haunting.”

Ariel drew in a slow breath, making a heroic effort to control her emotions. “So, it's over then.”

“A very successful investigation,” he agreed.

“And you… I suppose you'll be going back to Oxford, and your work.” She wasn't going to see him again, Ariel realized.

For the first time in the visit, Lord Alan looked slightly uncertain. “Well, as to that, I thought I would have my things taken to Langford House.”

She tried to read his expression.

“I need to make certain… to tie up any loose ends. And, of course, I have said I would be of assistance to you.”

“You are going to keep helping me?” wondered Ariel.

“I gave my word,” he replied, as if that settled the matter.

She scanned his face, but could find nothing in it. He had always said he wanted nothing more than to go home to Oxford. If he stayed now, when his task was accomplished… She didn't allow herself to think what that might mean. She couldn't afford hope. “I have found some papers of my mother's,” she said a little breathlessly.

“Really?”

“Yes. Or rather, Prospero found them.”

“Prospero?” He gave her a quizzical look.

“My cat.”

He frowned.

“You've seen him about.”

“Never.”

“But you must have. He's gray, with golden eyes.” Ariel looked around the room, but Prospero had gone.

“I would know if I had seen a cat,” he said. “But the animal's existence, and indeed why you call him Prospero and how he was able to discover these papers, are all secondary. Did they contain any valuable information?”

“Well, I'm not sure. The most curious thing was that my mother loaned a very large sum of money to a woman I've never heard of, who lives in Whitechapel.”

Lord Alan raised his auburn brows.

“I am going to see her and find out about it. I asked Lord Robert to escort me.”

“I'll take you,” he answered.

Ariel started to agree, then hesitated. He had had everything his own way. He was far too used to giving commands and seeing them obeyed. “You can come along with us, if you like,” she responded coolly.

He looked distinctly taken aback.

“Lord Robert and I have it all arranged,” she lied.

“You prefer the escort of a… a dandified…”

“You are very hard on your brothers,” she declared, pleased with the reaction she'd elicited. Before he could reply, she went out and called down the kitchen stairs to Lord Robert. “I'm ready to go now.”

After a short interval, he emerged, looking apprehensive.

“Lord Alan is coming with us,” Ariel told him brightly. “Perhaps he will find us a hack?” She looked over her shoulder at Lord Alan. He said nothing, merely gave her a little bow and went out.

“If Alan's going, you don't need me,” Lord Robert pointed out hopefully.

“Yes, I do.”

“But why?”

“I just do.” Ariel herded him before her out the door and along the pavement toward the hack that his brother now had waiting.

“But—”

“Get in,” said Ariel, giving him a tiny push. Defeated, Lord Robert did so, and she climbed after him, leaving Alan to come last.

It was a silent drive. Lord Robert sulked. Ariel brooded. And Lord Alan gazed out the window of the vehicle as if he hadn't a concern in the world. His expression did change, however, when the character of the neighborhoods they passed through began to deteriorate. And by the time the hack pulled up at their destination, he was frowning. “You will wait for us as long as necessary,” he told the driver when they had gotten out.

“I don't know, guv. It's a bad part of town.”

“There's a guinea in it if you do,” he added.

“A guinea! Yes, sir. Happy to be of service.”

Ariel looked around the narrow street in which they stood. The broken stones of the pavement were gray; the ramshackle houses that leaned against one another on either side had only the smallest vestiges of paint and their wood was cracked and gray; only grayness was visible through most of the windows; and a gray sky arched over all.

The houses were large, however. Clearly, in some earlier century, this had been a better neighborhood. And the one they had stopped before showed more signs of care than any of the others. It was not painted, but its front steps were swept, and bright curtains could be seen. An oversized lantern hung beside the front door; when lit at night it would obviously provide a beacon in the darkness. On the other side of the entry was a signboard, rather like that at an inn, but smaller. It showed the house number and a picture of a child being admitted through a lighted doorway.

“What the deuce are we doing here?” said Lord Robert.

Still eyeing the sign curiously, Ariel started up the steps.

“Hold on,” said Lord Alan. He moved in front of her and lifted his hand to knock.

There was no response at first, then they heard a clattering sound as the locks on the door were released from inside. It opened to reveal a slender boy of about thirteen dressed in a shirt and breeches of good cloth but no pretensions to fashion. He looked friendly but cautious.

“I would like to see Flora Jennings,” said Ariel.

The boy's head dipped slightly. “Who'll I say?” he responded.

“Ariel Harding. Bess Harding's daughter.”

His lips moved as he repeated this to himself. “Aw-right,” he said and started to push the door shut again. “I'm not allowed to let anyone in till I asks,” he explained apologetically and closed it.

Lord Robert muttered something unintelligible. He was looking up and down the street and fingering his watch chain as if he expected a pickpocket to emerge from the cobblestones and snatch it. “I don't like this,” he said.

“That boy looked quite harmless,” pointed out Ariel.

“But who's he fetching?”

The door rattled again. It was opened this time by a woman, who said, “Please, come in,” and stood back to let them pass.

Ariel stepped forward. But Lord Alan was ahead of her, and thus the first to enter a narrow, rather shabby front hall.

Following him Ariel discovered a tall young woman, with black hair and pale skin. She held herself very straight and moved gracefully. Her plain gown of cornflower blue was very well made, fastened at the neck with an antique cameo, and her eyes were the same intense blue as her dress. She did not look at all like a denizen of this poor neighborhood.

“I am Flora Jennings,” she said in a cultivated voice, looking at each of them in turn.

Ariel stepped forward. “Ariel Harding,” she said again. “Bess's daughter.”

The other woman's dark brows arched.

“And these are Lord Alan and Lord Robert Gresham.”

This elicited a frown.

“May we speak to you?” continued Ariel.

Miss Jennings hesitated, then gave a little shrug and led them into a parlor to the right of the front door.

Ariel sank onto a worn velvet sofa. The furnishings of the room looked like castoffs from the town houses of the
ton
—fine pieces past their first prime but still sturdy and serviceable. “What is this place?” she asked.

Flora Jennings had settled opposite, her fine hands crossed in her lap. “It is a refuge for the children of the London streets,” she answered calmly.

Ariel had to let this sink in for a few moments. “The children…” she began, remembering her mother's story of her own origins.

“The children society has discarded like so much refuse,” said Flora Jennings, and with her words, it became obvious that a fiery spirit burned behind her serene facade. Her blue eyes glowed with it. “The children who are allowed to freeze and starve and be preyed upon by any villain who wishes to exploit them.”

“You give them a home here?” said Ariel.

The other woman looked regretful. “Some live here,” she acknowledged. “But mostly we provide a meal or two, a bed for a night, a place to recover. We do not have room to house them all.” Her tone made it clear that this fact galled her immeasurably.

“My mother was helping you,” Ariel said. Her throat tightened suddenly with the full realization.

Flora Jennings smiled, and her rather austere face lit like stained glass when the sun comes from behind a bank of clouds. “She was a great benefactress. She helped me purchase this house. And she bought another nearby where we make homes for some of the older girls who would otherwise have no option but to…” She raised her chin. “But to sell themselves on the streets,” she finished, looking as if she dared them to be shocked.

“That's wonderful,” said Ariel. “Why didn't she ever tell me? I don't understand.”

Her reaction softened their hostess even further. She relaxed slightly in her chair. “Bess liked secrets, I think. She seemed to delight in the idea that she was doing this and no one knew.”

“She once told me that she grew up on the streets herself,” Ariel confided.

“I know. There was so much she understood. And she was so good talking with the children.”

This opened a whole new vista in her mother's character, Ariel thought. It made her proud, and yet also roused an ache in her chest. How she would have liked to have known before it was too late to express her admiration.

Lord Alan, who had been silently observing the scene, suddenly said, “You are a connection of my mother's.”

Their hostess seemed to freeze in her chair. Her delicately sculpted mouth turned down.

“Second cousin, isn't it? You used to come to Langford House for the holidays years ago.”

With patent reluctance, Flora Jennings nodded.

“Eh?” said Lord Robert, who had been standing like a statue in the corner, keeping one eye on their hackney through the window. “Jennings? You don't mean that absolutely terrifying female who used to visit us—Aunt Agatha, wasn't it?” He nodded, pleased with himself for remembering. “That's it. She was a tartar. Sebastian used to claim she had the evil eye. Say…” Knowledge appeared to dawn as he examined their hostess closely for the first time. “You ain't her daughter? Wasn't it you pushed Teddy Raines in the pond when he was bullying one of my brothers? James, I think it was. Do you remember, Alan?”

His brother shook his head.

“What the deuce are you doing in a place like this?” Lord Robert finished.

Miss Jennings's eyes flamed again. “I am doing something you wouldn't comprehend,” she snapped. “I am doing good.”

“Well, but—”

“I have rejected the parasitical life you refer to,” she went on. “It is shameful—the waste, the heedlessness—when there are so many in need.”

“I don't think—”

“Of course you don't. So-called fashionable society is nothing but a set of brainless idiots,” she declared. “They are like thoroughbred horses—handsome and fast but utterly useless for any practical purposes.”

“Here now.” Lord Robert looked as if something had struck him a sharp blow between the eyes. Ariel heard a snort of laughter from Lord Alan.

“Do you know how many children starve to death in London each year?” Flora continued relentlessly. “Do you know how many are brutalized or killed? Do you have any conception of the hopelessness, the despair?”

“Yes, but… street urchins,” Lord Robert choked out. “They're filthy, and they steal.”

The contempt in her face intensified. “I wonder how clean you would be if you were forced to live on the streets,” she responded. “They don't have valets to run their baths, you know.”

Lord Robert was beginning to look angry. “Of course, but—”