Vice and Virtue (14 page)

Aurora sat down and took a sip of wine. “Delicious!”

“It should be, considering what I was charged for it.” Smiling amiably, Joe flipped the back of his coat as he sat. Aurora was reminded of how Edward had done the same with the coat of his green suit when he had sat down in her mother’s parlour on that momentous day. Rich men – even Joe, who usually dressed so plainly – did not like to crease their fine clothes any more than rich women did. Aurora’s heart quailed at the thought that she had already failed to conduct herself like a rich woman; she was sitting on her new, expensive, neatly ironed ribbons.

“I suppose the patrons of Spring Gardens must pay what is asked, once they have entered,” she observed. “The prices are no doubt agreed amongst the traders.”

Joe raised his glass. “So you are a businesswoman now, as well as everything else, are you?”

Aurora’s heart gave a thud. She tapped her fan gently against her chin, pretending to ponder modestly upon his words. “Everything else? Whatever can you mean?”

Amusement gleamed in his eyes. Blue eyes, but a greyer blue than Aurora’s own, which her father used to say were the colour of God’s own canopy. “You are clever,” he began, “and fair of face and figure, and” – he sipped his wine – “you are a good sister to your brother, as well as a most excellent companion to Celia.” He became more serious. “Indeed, I have become concerned that my sister is demanding your company too much. Does your brother not wish you to be more often at home?”

“Not at all.” Aurora’s heartbeat had subdued itself, but she nevertheless opened her fan and put it up. If Joe could see her whole face, he might discern the falsehoods to come. “My brother spends many hours writing and reading, during which I can be of no use to him. Thanks to your generosity, he has a plentiful supply of books, and as he cannot walk far, he is as happy as is possible on his couch. And the servant is there to tend to his needs.”

Joe nodded. “But does he not wish for conversation with you? One cannot talk to a servant.”

“Oh, we converse a great deal,” Aurora assured him. “I am usually at home in the evenings. Tonight is an exception.”

“And the night we met you at Drury Lane? Was that an exception too?”

Aurora fanned herself vigorously. She knew she must provide a plausible explanation for her apparent neglect of a dying man. “Joe,” she said, putting down the fan and regarding him as seriously as he was regarding her, “as I have confessed, my brother is in hiding from creditors. He cannot make his whereabouts public. Neither can he go out, though he is too ill to do so, anyway. For myself, I cannot do the first thing, but I
can
do the second, and I have his blessing to do so. He knows I crave the company of others, and being so lately arrived in London, our friends are far away.”

Joe nodded. He seemed satisfied. “Where, exactly, are your friends?”

“In the West Country,” invented Aurora. “Not far from Bath.” It was the first place she thought of. Her mother had recently begun to voice her wish to visit the city of Bath, where she hoped the spa water might relieve her swollen seamstress’s finger joints.

“I know your parents are both deceased, but do you have other relatives?” enquired Joe.

“No,” said Aurora quickly. “My father was considerably older than my mother, and the last of his family living. My mother’s parents have also passed on, and although she had a sister, we have never had anything to do with her. I do not believe my aunt ever married. I do not even know if she lives still.”

She was pleased with this fabrication, which had come to her instantly. At a stroke, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins had been obliterated.

Joe pondered her answers. “Then soon, you will be utterly alone in the world.”

“That is so.”

“What will you do, when your brother … when you are finally alone?” he asked.

“I have not decided,” seemed the safest reply. “I may go back to Bath.”

“And face your brother’s creditors?”

She shrugged. “I must bear whatever comes to me, I suppose.”

“The Lord will provide,” agreed Joe. He shifted on the bench a little. His expression had become earnest. “Speaking of the Lord … my sister tells me you have been brought up in the Protestant faith.”

Aurora could guess why he was questioning her so carefully. From Miss Drayton’s point of view, marriage to Joe Deede would be far, far preferable to being left to make her own way in the world. Because she had no family to object, she could take the irrevocable step of converting to Catholicism in order to become his wife, as his father had done in order to marry Joe’s mother.

Aurora began to despise herself for continuing this charade. To mislead a man in such an important matter as love and marriage, to lie before God like the worst sinner ever consigned to damnation, was despicable. She wished she really
were
lonely Miss Drayton, who cared so little for her religion that she might be persuaded to abandon it for a rich husband. As it was, she found herself wilfully deceiving a man innocent of everything but falling in love with her.

“Yes, sir, that is true,” she told him. “But I have never been very strict in my religion. My brother is more so.”

He caught the sorrow in her voice, though he could not know its real cause. “Does speaking of such things cause you pain?”

“Forgive me, sir,” she said, bowing her head. “I am merely distressed by the thought that before I can make any plans about where to go or anything else, my dear brother must be buried, and in a Protestant churchyard.”

He nodded towards her wine glass, which she had set beside her on the bench. “Then drink, and let us walk a little while, before we meet the others for supper. The exercise will give us an appetite.”

Aurora was relieved to end the conversation. When she had finished her wine she took Joe’s arm and they set off along a different alley from the one they had taken before. It emerged into the main concourse, where the crowd had increased. “How will all these people be fed?” asked Aurora in wonder.

“It is managed somehow,” Joe assured her. “And you must understand that not every visitor will have the means to purchase a supper ticket.”

“Oh! I hope this entertainment is not proving very expensive for you!”

“Not at all. It is a very great pleasure to provide you with an enjoyable evening,” he said stiffly.

Aurora was again assailed by guilt. She squeezed his arm. “You are a good man, Joe Deede,” she said warmly. “You are altogether a better person than Aurora Drayton!”

He began to respond with a pleasantry. But suddenly he stopped, transfixed by something ahead. Aurora found her hand clasped more tightly to his side. “Good God!” he exclaimed in an outraged whisper. “The effrontery of that man!”

Aurora followed his gaze. Her heart jumped so violently she had to put her hand on her breast. Not three yards away, walking towards them with the rest of the throng, were Edward and Richard. They appeared as they had when she had first seen them in St James’s Park: two young gentlemen, finely dressed, extravagantly bewigged, wearing their swords with a confident air.

Her cheeks had instantly reddened, and she put up her fan. She must not betray she had ever seen either of these men before. Her brain raced as she tried to piece together the events of the evening. Edward had left their lodgings while she was still dressing, reminding her he was going to meet Richard at Will’s Coffee House. He had not been wearing this finery then, so he must have returned to change after she had gone to Mill Street. What mischief was he up to?

“I know not who the taller man is,” said Joe, “but the shorter one is the son of my father’s greatest enemy, now deceased, I am glad to say. The son is as great a villain as his father was, and as great an enemy of our family.”

Aurora tried to recover her wits, and remember to be Miss Drayton. “But, Joe,” she said as mildly as she could, “we are in a public place. It must be merely by chance that your path has crossed this man’s tonight.”

“That is so. You are quite right.” He patted her hand again. His voice was calmer, but his chest rose and fell rapidly. The sight of Edward had greatly unsettled him. “We shall ignore them.”

But as Aurora might have predicted, Edward was not of the same mind. He approached boldly and removed his hat. “Mr Deede, in
deed
!” he cried, with an exaggerated bow. Richard, grinning, bowed equally low. Aurora could not fathom this nonsense.

“Good evening, Mr Francis.” Joe did not bow, but regarded both gentlemen with suspicion.

“Allow me to introduce my friend, Mr Augustus Hoggart,” said Edward, indicating Richard. “Augustus, this is Mr Josiah Deede, of Mill Street, Mayfair.”

“Odd!” exclaimed Richard foppishly, his fingers cupping his chin. “I would have thought Mr Josiah Deede, the esteemed attorney, to be rather
older
.”

“This is the esteemed attorney’s son,” Edward told him. His eyes then travelled back to Joe, who was still regarding him and Richard coldly. “Mr Deede, may Augustus and I have the pleasure of being introduced to your fair companion?”

Joe gave an impatient sigh. He could not, for courtesy’s sake, refuse. “Gentlemen, this is Miss Aurora Drayton, of Covent Garden.” His grip on Aurora’s arm did not relent. “Miss Drayton and I are on our way to meet the rest of our party for supper, and must take our leave. Fare you well. Come, Aurora.”

Before she had time to make a curtsey, Joe tried to pull her away. But at that moment Mrs Fellowes and Mrs Partridge appeared. Pushing herself eagerly between their shoulders was Celia, whose face, already pink from excitement and the heat of the evening, turned pinker when she saw the two strangers. “Oh, Joe!” she cried. “You have met someone you know! Do introduce us!”

Again, courtesy would not allow Joe to refuse. “My sister, Miss Celia Deede, and our friends Mrs Fellowes and Mrs Partridge,” he announced, without looking at the two men. “Ladies, this gentleman is Mr Hoggart, and this is Mr Francis.”

Celia’s expression changed. “Mr
Edward
Francis?”

“The very same,” replied Joe bitterly. “I would have walked past him if he had not insisted otherwise. But come, Celia, we must to supper. My dear Mrs Fellowes, Mrs Partridge, will you join us?”

This time he succeeded in moving the party of ladies on. Edward and Richard glanced at each other and began to walk towards the supper tables too. Joe ignored them, but Celia could not contain her delight at falling into the company of the famous Edward Francis, whom her father and brother had spoken of with such contempt, and whose fortune had landed so spectacularly in her own lap.

“What are you doing here, Mr Francis?” she asked him pertly. “I am surprised you can afford the price of admission! Or did your friend pay for you?”

“Celia!” admonished Joe. “Do not debase yourself in speaking so.” He turned to the two older ladies with apology. “Mr Francis’s family has long been at enmity with ours, and Celia has not encountered him before. Though I have.” He looked sidelong at Edward. “However, I confess myself bewildered as to why he has decided to adhere to our party.”

“I am grieved to hear that,” said Edward. “I would have thought my motive would be obvious. You are in the company of four charming ladies, and Augustus and I are in the company of none. Will you not share them with us for a little while?”

Mrs Fellowes succumbed immediately to this flattery. “Why, Mr Francis, I believe you are flirting with us!” she trilled. “But you would be far better to flirt with Celia and Aurora, you know – Mrs Partridge and I are spoken for!”

“Quite so, madam,” agreed Edward, bowing. He took a step nearer Aurora. “Miss Drayton, you must be at a loss to understand the cause of Miss Deede’s animosity. I confess I am too. Now that I have seen her for the first time, I consider her a very pretty, amiable young lady. As, no doubt, her brother considers
you
.”

“Enough, sir!” Joe could no longer keep his countenance. “I insist that you remove yourself from our company. We have not invited you to join us for supper—”

“More’s the pity!” put in Richard. “I like nothing better than supping in the company of ladies!”

“And we
will not
invite you,” continued Joe with contempt. “You, sir,” he said to Richard, “are as conceited a puppy as your companion. I will not allow either of you to make free with my sister, Miss Drayton or our friends. I bid you both farewell.”

Compressing his lips, he strode on, followed by Celia and the others. But Aurora had freed her hand from Joe’s grasp. She fell into step with Edward and Richard, a few yards behind the others, avoiding Joe’s sight by mingling with the increasingly dense crowd. “Are you
completely
deranged?” she hissed at Edward.

“No, I am merely bored with Samuel Marshall’s company.”

She could not show her anger in her face in such a public place, but she thrust it into her voice. “You came to spy on me, did you not? You do not trust me. Admit it!”

“We came to protect you,” said Edward calmly. “My distrust of Joe Deede grows daily. I am afraid I cannot find him as innocent as you profess him to be.”

Aurora’s indignation did not abate. “Your arrogance…” She stopped, and glanced coldly at Richard. “The arrogance of you
both
is breathtaking. Will you risk destroying everything I have tried to do, in order to spy on your own spy?”

Edward drew breath, but she was too incensed to let him speak.

“Why involve Richard?” she asked. “Oh, I
know
why! You thought two pairs of eyes would be better than one, did you not, in case you missed a coquettish glance, or some lover’s sign I might have given Joe Deede?”

Edward’s eyes glittered, but he kept his countenance. Taking her elbow, he drew her into an alley so rich with blossom they were immediately invisible to passers-by. “It was necessary to bring Richard, whom Joe Deede has never seen and whose identity he does not know,” he told her firmly. “Being in the company of a droll young fellow, a part I think you will agree Richard plays very well, made my running into your party more plausible than if I had appeared alone.”