The Pleasure Merchant (19 page)

He found Miss Gill in the parlor with the rest of the company, most of whom were now playing at cards. She was not engaged beyond advising her friend Anne, and so he was able to slyly attract her attention before disappearing into the hall beyond. He waited there for her for some minutes, increasingly anxious she would not come, or had not understood, but then she was there, and in his arms, and his face was buried between her bosoms, tongue lapping at her sweat as she moaned.

“Dearest, dearest,” she whispered, wriggling as his hand found her mound through her voluminous skirts, “not here, let us go elsewhere. We might be discovered.”

“Come,” he said, and pulled her down the corridor after him. But finding candles lit or people occupying every room where a tryst might be conducted, Tom led his giggling companion back through the dining room only to drag her behind an Oriental screen in the empty front hall. He reckoned he could achieve his purpose standing as easily as sitting or lying down, and given how lively the party had seemed, they’d be in no danger of anyone departing before they were finished.

The space behind the scene of cranes in an orange tree was as modest a bower as any couple could hope for. A good thing too, for Tom was reckless that night—far more reckless than was his habit. He licked and bit, pulled and tugged, stroked and toyed with wild abandon. Miss Gill acquiesced to his every demand, but that was no surprise; she had on more than one occasion owned herself quite willing to let him take her maidenhead. Tom, suspecting the invitation was bait set to trap him with a bastard, had denied her the honor… but that night, after Sabina’s teasing, he allowed himself the pleasure of running the tip of his cock along her damp slit as he pressed her against the wall. Up and down, back and forth, he got it slick with her, moaning as he felt the pressure building in his groin. Maddened, enflamed, he decided he would put the tip of it inside her—just this once—and not long enough to risk spending—when voices approached them from the other side of the screen.

“Shh,” he hissed when she gasped. He was nervous, sweating, and worst of all, he could no more tuck away his cock in its current state than a soldier could fold his saber into his pocket. He was forced to stand there like an obscene statue while Miss Gill noiselessly arranged herself as best she could. The only good thing about the situation was that they were not discovered. Yet.

“I’m heartily sorry for it, Bewit, but I can endure the company no longer.” It was Mr. Jepp. “I shall say no more for honor’s sake; we both know of what I speak.”

“Father, let us not dissemble. It is not that we
cannot
endure it,” that was Master Edward, “it is that we no longer wish to.”

Tom was not surprised that family was the first to leave—indeed, he had been amazed they agreed to remain at all, after the shocking demonstration that had so rattled Mrs. Jepp.

“Of course, of course,” said Mr. Bewit, in his usual agreeable manner. “I understand, really, I do. I just hate to see you go! But, your carriage has been ordered, and should be here directly.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bewit,” said Mrs. Jepp. “You are very kind. We hope to see
you
again. Perhaps one evening when you are… at your leisure… you might come and drink tea with us.”

“Nay—come shoot with us. Please, any time. The company of a fellow sportsman is never unwelcome.” Young Master Edward was as gracious as his mother, but their intent of excluding Hallux from their invitations could scarcely be clearer. Only terror kept Tom from snickering, but being discovered by Mr. Bewit in such a compromising position would be a nightmare. He would have to marry Alys, to keep up appearances. He glanced at her pale, doughy face, so full of concern, and raised a finger to his lips, praying she was too thick to see it would be to her advantage to betray them.

“Really, we would love to have you over any time,” said Mr. Jepp, “but for now I would not like to keep you from your party. Please—do not stand on ceremony with us. We’ve known one another too long to worry about such formalities. Go back to your guests, and we’ll see ourselves out.”

“But there’s nary a footman to—”

“One will come with the carriage. We’ll just wait here, it’s really no trouble,” said Mrs. Jepp.

Mr. Bewit sighed. “If you’re certain… then very well. Good night… and thank you for, ah, forgiving and forgetting, and all that.”

“Nothing to forgive,” Mr. Jepp assured his friend.

But after Mr. Bewit finally took his leave, it seemed that was not entirely true.

“I won’t see him again, Father. I won’t.” Though his goodbye had been polite, Master Edward was in high dudgeon. “I refuse to be civil to the man. Hallux Dryden is a fraud, a menace and a—”

“Peace, Edward. Tiercel is an old friend of mine.”

“No, Mr. Jepp,” said Mrs. Jepp. “Edward is right. Frankly, I believe we should have given him up after what happened to poor Miss Bewit—Hallux, I mean. Seeing as he was with her when she died, he had much to answer for—and yet, no one knows what happened, not even Mr. Bewit, it seems.”

Now this was some interesting intelligence! Tom had only heard that Callow’s sister Alula was “abroad” when she passed—not that she was under Hallux Dryden’s care at the time.

“My dear!” Mr. Jepp sounded quite shocked. “The man is no favorite of mine, but I must protest this abuse. He was in state over her death, as well he might be! Why, he loved her! Do you not remember? To cut a man, when he was in that condition, would have been unpardonably cruel.”

“Well, he is no longer grieving.”

“Do you think Mr. Dryden had anything to do with Miss Bewit’s passing?” asked Master Edward.

The silence that followed was a heavy one, and Tom feared he would not have a response from either Mr. or Mrs. Jepp, for he heard their carriage crunching up the gravel drive. But then Mrs. Jepp sighed.

“You wouldn’t remember, she said, “you were just a boy, and away at school half the year. I don’t know the whole of it, but I do know when he inherited his fortune every mother in the surrounding counties began throwing their daughters in front of him. He ignored them all to dote on Alula. He even tried to make himself smart for her, if you can imagine Hallux Dryden in a brushed coat and peruke, bowing and making love like a beau.” Tom again had to stifle an unkind snigger. “There was never any sign of affection on her side, however… until he made it generally known that he planned to go abroad. Alula had always longed to travel, and with Mr. Bewit’s consent she went with Hallux when he departed. I still cannot account for Mr. Bewit’s decision there—we all questioned it. But, if there was ever a price to be paid for folly, Tiercel Bewit paid it with interest, poor man. I’m amazed he let Callow go to Geneva, after that.”

“A young man must travel,” cried Master Edward. “Mother, surely—”

A door creaked. “Your carriage awaits, Mr. Jepp,” announced a footman, much to Tom’s dismay. He longed to hear more, but there was no chance of it. The Jepps would not continue such a conversation in front of servants—not knowingly—and they departed without another word spoken on the subject.

So Hallux Dryden had once fancied Alula Bewit! Perhaps the “sacrifice” Mr. Bewit had spoken of was allowing—perhaps
encouraging
—his daughter to travel abroad with his cousin. A longed-for trip to see the world seemed like the sort of present a suitor would offer a reluctant lover to try to tempt her. No decent girl would agree to it without a father’s influence.

It was most mysterious. He would have to find out more… but later. There was a different girl, a living, breathing girl, who was indicating an ardent desire for his attention by eagerly caressing his now-wilted cock. Poor Miss Gill! Even if she had had two cunts she would not possess enough charms to tempt him to marry her.

“I want it, Tom,” she whispered urgently, “please. I know you would never harm me. Don’t you want it? Do it now, before we’re missed. I
long
for it.”

“Hum? Yes, Alys, I quite agree,” said Tom. It was stiffening, twice as hard for having twice been denied a release. And the notion of two cunts had given him an idea. Turning her around to face the wall, he lifted her skirts to reveal the milk-white cheeks of her bottom. “I’ve an idea, my love, that will please us both, I’m sure. Just… just hold still a moment. Mr. Dryden isn’t the only one who can concoct an unusual entertainment to wile away an otherwise pointless evening…”

One warm morning a few days after the disastrous Michaelmas party a note arrived for Mr. Bewit, requesting the pleasure of his presence for a late-season boating-party at the Jepps’s. Hallux’s name was not included. The funny thing was, if it had been, he wouldn’t have gone—Hallux openly detested the water and everything on, under, or beside it—but its absence was a surefire way to secure his interest, as well as deeply annoy him. That was why Mr. Bewit, demonstrating remarkably good sense, pocketed the missive quick as he could, while Hallux was absorbed in his own correspondence. Neither did he mention the engagement before departing—he even met his carriage in the carriage house, instead of in front of his own.

But no secret is long kept in a house with many servants.

Hallux learned of the snub that very day, and it made him
furious
. When Mr. Bewit and Tom returned home, he was still in high dudgeon though it was late, and his temper was not improved when his cousin refused to admit he had erred in attending a gathering which had, in Hallux’s words, “particularly and unconscionably excluded his own flesh and blood.” Usually, Mr. Bewit made haste to apologize for anything that upset anyone, particularly Hallux, but the wine and the sunshine had made him rather mellow.

“Oh go on,” Mr. Bewit said to his cousin, whose face was taking on the color of the claret they’d been drinking all day, “You mustn’t be so cross over a little thing like this. Do I get sore when your colleagues fail to invite me to one of your Royal Society shindigs? Nay! I simply find some other occupation, and one more pleasing to my sensibilities. Go you and do the same, Hallux—you’ll be happier for it. And really, had you time to go, with your great work occupying so much of your time?”

“That isn’t the point!”

“I beg your pardon, then,” said Mr. Bewit, and excused himself.

Tom was so proud of his master, for finally standing up to Hallux… but soon he saw why it was such a rare occurrence. In the wake of the party, Hallux could not be silenced, musing daily about how he could never stand the Jepps, or parties, or boats for that matter. It was not just to his own family, either, that he spoke ill them—he informed everyone who visited Bergamot Mews, or that he came across when out and about, how he was too busy for frivolous parties with frivolous individuals, but it was obvious to everyone it was just sour grapes.

Mr. Bewit was embarrassed by his cousin’s manners, but Tom saw he was most pained by how Hallux tormented Sabina about the affair. He made endless snide comments to her about how it was surely her delicacy that was the source of the Jepps’s reluctance to extend the invitation to them. Meals, already dreaded affairs for the whole household, became intolerable, and Sabina’s nerves so fragile she scarcely came down. In other words, Hallux took pains to make everyone else at Bergamot Mews so miserable that to keep the peace Mr. Bewit was forced to decline all further invitations from that family—and any others that excluded his less popular relation. Which, of course, had been Hallux’s exact purpose.

This resulted in some very lonely weeks in late October. Few in the neighborhood had ever been willing to call at Bergamot Mews, for risk of seeing Hallux, and now, the family never went out. While there was still excellent shooting and fishing, pleasant walks to be taken, and bonfires to be built, in time the total social isolation began to wear on the everyone. There was little to break up the monotony of the long autumn evenings, with Sabina judged too frail for cards, and Hallux disinclined to do anything but sit in his study, mulling over his monograph.

Tom was plenty annoyed on his own behalf, for Hallux’s imposed quarantine made his life far less interesting—but the fire of his annoyance was further fueled by seeing how profoundly it affected Mr. Bewit. As quickly as his master had recovered his health, it began to slip away from him, and it was truly horrible to watch. The man did ever so much better when pleasure took his mind from his worries, but when the rains came, and outdoor exercise was denied him as absolutely as social interaction, his spirits sank yet lower, and daily Tom feared for a nervous relapse.

It was not lost on Tom that Hallux Dryden was at the center of everyone’s misery—his, Mr. Bewit’s…
and
Sabina’s. It took more time for him to see how she suffered, given her usual reserve, but when she once again took up her harp, it became impossible to ignore.

A few times after the night of the Michaelmas party Sabina had idly mentioned a desire for some music in the house, but it wasn’t until the dullest and rainiest of the dull, rainy afternoons that she finally called on Tom to ask if he would be so kind as to fetch the harp and some sheet music that had been shut away in a disused bedroom. It took but half an hour to retrieve the instrument and bring it down, and another to dust and tune it—which she did with her own hands, to everyone’s surprise—so within an hour they had music, a welcome distraction from the pernicious grayness within and without Bergamot Mews.