A Second Chance (23 page)

Amy turned on him. ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t
you come near Sarah’s!’

‘I’ll be discreet, don’t worry about that.’
He peered at her in sudden concern. ‘You look a little unwell.
Shall I walk you to Miss Millish’s? Here, take my arm.’

She found herself unable to get another word
out. She shook her head emphatically, turned, and walked away as
briskly as she could. When she risked a backwards glance, she was
somewhat relieved to see that Jimmy was not following her.

*

Alice came into the passage as Amy was
opening the front door. ‘Miss Sarah’s home, Mrs Stewart. She’s in
her study.’

For the moment, Amy felt incapable of
putting on the calm face she wanted to show Sarah. ‘Thank you,
Alice. Would you tell her I’m going to have a lie-down before
dinner? Oh, and could I have some hot water in my room,
please?’

‘Of course, ma’am. I’ll get right on to
it.’

Amy went up the stairs, half stumbling in
her haste to get out of sight. The churn of her emotions seemed
echoed by a churning in her belly; before she had reached her
bedroom she changed directions and made a rush for the
bathroom.

Vomiting brought some relief. She left the
bathroom and almost walked into Alice, who was standing in the
passage holding the jug she had used to carry hot water to Amy’s
room. It was clear from the concern in her face that Alice had
heard her.

‘Are you all right, Mrs Stewart?’ the maid
asked. ‘Should I fetch Miss Sarah?’

‘No, please don’t bother her,’ Amy said
quickly. ‘I’ll be all right after I’ve had a lie-down.’

‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Alice sounded
doubtful. ‘You just ring the bell if you need anything.’ She moved
towards the stairs, casting an anxious glance over her shoulder at
Amy as she went.

Amy turned from the sight of Alice’s kind,
honest face and entered her room, closing the door behind her. The
room was immaculate, as always. Everything in Sarah’s house was
well-ordered. Everyone went about their business quietly and
efficiently; everything was clean and neat and
proper
. The
way Jimmy had looked at her and spoken to her, the easy way in
which he had assumed she would be willing to become his mistress,
had left Amy feeling sullied. She suddenly felt out of place in
this house, as if she were tainting it by her presence.

She poured some of the water Alice had
brought her into a bowl; stripped, took soap and a cloth, and began
washing herself. The water was hot enough for the cloth to be
painful against her bare skin, but Amy ignored the discomfort. By
the time she had rinsed herself with clean water her skin was red
and tingling.

She put on a dressing gown, the silk
blessedly cool and smooth. She carefully hung her walking costume
in the wardrobe, but her chemise and drawers she flung into the
washing hamper. She wanted clean undergarments, not the ones she
had worn while listening to Jimmy.

Amy closed the drapes and lay on her bed in
the dim room, staring at the ceiling. Her stomach still felt
unsettled, and her head had begun to ache. The thought that Jimmy
might come to this house! That he might confront Sarah; might learn
who Sarah was. And it would be her fault. Her fault for letting
herself be persuaded to come to Auckland. Her fault for failing to
think of the possibility that in so vast a metropolis as Auckland
her path might cross Jimmy’s.

When the bell rang for dinner, Amy got up
and dressed herself. She splashed her face with cold water, and
hoped that her agitation would not be visible.

Sarah was already in the dining room when
Amy went downstairs. She looked up, smiling, then her expression
changed to concern.

‘Goodness, Amy, you don’t look at all well.
How pale you are! You shouldn’t have got up.’

‘I’m all right,’ Amy said, trying to sound
reassuring. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’

‘I kept you out too late last night, didn’t
I, when we’d been out the night before as well? I’m so sorry—I
should remember you’re not used to the hours I keep.’

Amy was relieved to have Sarah assume such
an innocuous reason for her quietness over dinner. She showed as
much interest as she could muster in Sarah’s account of her own
doings that afternoon, contributing little more than an occasional
word or two.

By the time they had gone through to the
drawing room, where Alice brought their tea things on a tray, her
head was pounding. She wondered how soon she could make her excuses
and go upstairs without worrying Sarah.

Sarah poured tea into their cups and handed
one to Amy. ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ she said, her eyes twinkling.
‘I’ve caught you in some mischief.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t look so anxious!’ Sarah said with a
smile. ‘I’m only teasing. Alice said she saw you in the park today.
And she told me you were sitting with a
gentleman
. I think
you’d better tell me just who the fortunate gentleman was.’ Amy
hesitated, and Sarah’s smile faded slightly. ‘You did know the man,
I hope,’ she said carefully. ‘Amy, you do realise that politeness
doesn’t oblige you to talk to complete strangers if they accost
you?’

‘I knew him,’ Amy admitted.

‘And who was it?’ Sarah prompted, still
looking amused.

There was no avoiding it. ‘It was that man
we were talking to last night. Mr Taylor.’

Sarah pulled a face. ‘Ugh. What bad luck for
you, running into him. He didn’t make himself too unpleasant, did
he?’ When Amy did not respond, Sarah frowned. ‘Amy, has something
happened? Did that awful man upset you?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Amy said, wishing she
sounded more convincing. ‘It was nothing, really. I’d rather not
have talked to him, that’s all. And I’d rather not talk about it
now,’ she added, but the firm set of Sarah’s mouth told her there
was little chance of the subject’s being allowed to lapse.

‘Really, you ought to be able to walk in the
park without having to worry about the impertinence of a man like
that. What was he doing there at that time of day, anyway? He
should have been working, not hanging about the park making a
nuisance of himself to ladies. Goodness knows his business could do
with having some attention paid it, from what I hear. Did he have
any excuse for being there?’

‘He…’ Amy could think of no safe answer that
would not be a lie. ‘He wanted to talk to me.’

‘What?’ Sarah frowned in confusion. ‘But how
did he know you’d be there?’

Amy was aware of a growing feeling of dread.
‘He asked me last night. He said he wanted to meet me, and I
thought of the park. We just talked for a little while, then I came
back here. Please don’t worry about it, Sarah. I won’t see him
again.’

Sarah studied her with obvious unease.
‘Amy,’ she said slowly, ‘did you not think how inappropriate it was
for you to agree to such a meeting with a man you barely know? A
married man, at that. I’m aware he’s Mrs Leith’s brother, and no
doubt he played on that association, but the fact remains that he’s
almost a stranger to you. I realise you don’t know his reputation,
but even so… it wasn’t quite sensible of you, darling.’

‘No, I see that. I’m sorry, Sarah. It was
just that… it was all so sudden, last night. I thought he was going
to make a fuss in front of everyone—people were starting to stare.
I thought if I could just see him for a few minutes he’d leave me
alone. I hope he will now.’

‘I’m afraid you probably encouraged him. You
really will have to be more careful, Amy. I hate to think of your
exposing yourself to the conduct of such a man. Frankly, there’s
very little I’d put past him. I could tell you stories about Mr
Taylor that would curl your hair even more than it is.’

‘Please don’t talk about him any more,’ Amy
said, dimly aware of a renewed feeling of nausea.

Sarah continued to look uneasy. ‘No, I think
I had better tell you a few things about him—you need to be on your
guard. I’m not in the habit of listening to idle gossip, but one
can’t move in Auckland’s business circles without hearing
rumours—nor in its social circles without hearing worse ones.’

She paused, and for a moment Amy dared hope
that she would let the subject rest with her vague warnings. But
Sarah was only mustering her thoughts.

‘His business is not at all sound. His
father was a competent businessman by all accounts, and as far as I
know he had a fair reputation. But the current Mr Taylor has a name
for cutting corners, and for sharp practice when he can get away
with it. It’s well known that small tradesmen—the sort of
hardworking men Father always insisted must be paid before anyone
else—struggle to get their money out of Taylor. Many of them refuse
to have anything to do with him now. And he’s reaping the results
of his behaviour. It’s common knowledge that his wife’s money
subsidises the business—it would be running down even faster than
it is without that prop. His personal expenses, too—he struts about
as if he thinks himself quite the gentleman, but I’ve heard it said
more than once that those fine suits of his are bought out of the
allowance his wife pays him.’

‘That’s not really any of my business,
Sarah.’

‘Perhaps not, but I want you to know as much
as possible about the man. I think he’s capable of creating a
better impression of himself than is justified on closer
acquaintance.’ Again, Sarah paused; and again, Amy hoped that the
subject might be allowed to drop. Hoped in vain.

‘I’m only telling you these things so you’ll
understand how flimsy his façade as a successful man of business
is. His business dealings would be enough on their own to mark him
as a man to have as little to do with as possible. But as for his
personal life—’

‘Sarah,
no
,’ Amy pleaded. ‘Please
don’t say any more.’

‘I’d be quite ready to respect the man’s
privacy if he hadn’t bullied you into meeting him like that. I want
you to be properly armed. Let me finish, Amy, then we won’t need to
speak of him again. Believe me, I take no pleasure in it. You must
prepare yourself to hear some rather distasteful things.’

Sarah took a sip of tea before going on. ‘I
spend much of my time with men, at the meetings that drag me away
from you. There’s a certain advantage to that—men sometimes forget
for a short time that there’s a woman in their presence, and they
talk as freely as they might among themselves. I’ve picked up many
an interesting piece of information in that way, along with a good
deal of gossip. Never let anyone tell you that it’s only women who
gossip.

‘Some of the sillier fellows I’ve
encountered seem to have a sneaking admiration for the likes of Mr
Taylor, but I’ve found that more steady men have little time for
him. Especially the ones with daughters to worry about—or perhaps
wives that they suspect are not entirely trustworthy. One of the
great injustices of our society, Amy, is that a woman’s reputation
is far more fragile than a man’s.’

‘I know,’ Amy whispered.

‘And men like Mr Taylor seem to have no
compunction about damaging that reputation. I gather that there
have been… incidents. There was one in particular last year that
apparently came close to landing a foolish woman in the divorce
courts. Fortunately for all parties, Mr Taylor had been
just
cautious enough, and nothing could be proved. He’s also known to
frequent a certain type of establishment—’

‘Stop it, Sarah,’ Amy interrupted. ‘You
mustn’t talk like this. It’s not right.’

‘I’m not going to pretend ignorance, Amy. I
would have thought I could talk to you without any such pretence.
Why in the world shouldn’t I tell you what I know about him?
Well?’

Amy’s head was pounding harder than ever. It
was difficult for her to think straight, but Sarah seemed to want
an answer. ‘You shouldn’t talk about him like that. It’s not right.
It’s not respectful.’ The moment the word was out, she knew that
she could hardly have chosen a worse one.

‘Respectful?
’ Sarah said in
disbelief. ‘Are you telling me I should show respect to that man?
Why? Because he’s older than I am? Heaven forbid you think I should
because he’s a man and I’m
only
a woman. I believe respect
is something to be earned, and I’m not aware of anything that man
has done to earn mine. He’s at best a buffoon, and at worst a
scoundrel. Can you give me one good reason I should show him
respect? No? In that case I’ll tell you—’

‘He’s your
father
,’ Amy cried, the
word tearing from her like a scream. Silence flooded the room, so
heavy that she could barely breathe through it. ‘He’s your father,’
she whispered.

Sarah was staring wide-eyed at her. ‘My
father?’ Her mouth twisted in disgust, as if the very word left a
foul taste. ‘
Him?
Good God, Amy, was that the best you could
do? I credited you with more intelligence—more refinement—more
basic
decency
than that. How could you have—’

She turned aside, biting off whatever she
had been going to add, but she had said enough. No one else would
have had the power to wound Amy so bitterly.

‘I’d better go home,’ Amy said quietly.
Sarah said nothing. ‘I’ll go and see about a passage tomorrow. I’ll
leave as soon as I can.’

‘Yes, perhaps you’d better,’ Sarah said,
almost spitting the words. She glanced at Amy for a moment, then
turned away again.

Amy got up and left the room. She did not
say goodnight; still less did she attempt to kiss Sarah.

The flight of stairs had never seemed so
steep. Mounting each step meant a deliberate effort to push one
foot up to the next level, then drag the other after it. When she
had at last reached the top, she walked slowly to her room and
closed the door behind her.