The Solemn Bell (10 page)

Now, even though she awoke in a strange place, she was afraid no longer. Angelica knew he would protect her. Despite his anger, he’d never allow her to come to harm. Captain Neill was a good man. Good men did not hurt women.

Good men did not let women hurt themselves.

Angelica realized what she had done. In desperation, she’d spread herself for the first man who would have her. Although she’d never admit it, she would spread herself for
any
man who would have her, mistaking the need for love with the need for…what?

Oh, she enjoyed sex, but it was companionship she craved. For a few breathless moments, someone held her. Kissed her. The fact that her lover had only wanted to empty himself inside her was inconsequential. A small price to pay for his undivided attention.

Captain Neill, however, had wanted to marry her. She had been too naive to understand before, but he’d refused her body that fated night because he had loved her. Because he had respected her enough to wait.
 

They could have had a wedding, and, afterwards, he might have brought her to this very inn. He would have made love to her in a bed, with care and tender concern. Not hunched over a gritty worktop, trousers ‘round his ankles.

Angelica’s first time could have been beautiful. Instead, she’d sacrificed her happiness for a few heated exchanges with a man who did not know her name.

Captain Neill would not have her now.

He stirred in his armchair by the fire. The rhythm of his breathing told her he was awake. Perhaps he was even watching her.

“Brody…”

He yawned. “I’m here.”

“What time is it?” Surely, by the sounds of the city outside, it had to be mid-morning.

There was a pause while he checked his watch. “Half nine.”

Angelica had not slept that late in years. She must truly have been exhausted. She wondered what kind of schedule he kept. Was this hour early to him, or had he been up since dawn?
 

“You could not have been comfortable sleeping in that chair,” she said, pulling herself up against the pillows. She was careful to keep the bedsheets over her bosom—more for the sake of his sensibilities than hers. “Thank you for giving me the bed.”

Wordlessly, Captain Neill shoved his feet into his boots. The cushioned chair creaked as he rose to stand before her. “I didn’t sleep much. I’ve been too busy thinking about our predicament. I think I’ve reached a solution, though it’s temporary and sketchy, at best.”

“Do tell.”

He paced the narrow room. Nervous. Uncomfortable in her presence. “The most obvious answer would be to put you up somewhere. Here, perhaps. There’d be a cook to feed you, and maids to clean for you. You’d be safe, and I’d pay to make sure you were properly looked after…”

Angelica’s heart caught in her throat. He was going to leave her again.
 

“…Except, I don’t trust you to behave yourself. You’d cock up my plan by bringing a man up here—some stranger passing through, who you might’ve met downstairs in the restaurant. I refuse to spend my money so you can have a more convenient place to slake your lust.”

He was right. She would get lonely without him. She would become desperate yet again. “Visit me, then. Let me be your…your mistress. I won’t need other men as long as I have you.”

“Truth is, I find that thought distasteful. And, if you’ve been up to as much mischief as you’ve led me to believe, I’m sure you’re pregnant.”

She hugged the covers around her like a shield. How could he say such hurtful things to her? “I believe the fever that took my eyesight also robbed me of my ability to conceive—God’s way of protecting those of us who aren’t fit for procreation.”

“Let’s hope so. All the same, I’d rather wait until you bleed to discuss further arrangements.”

Angelica nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Good. This coming week-end is my sister’s twenty-first birthday. Most of my family will be there, and I had thought it a good time to introduce my future wife,” he paused, adding, “That was before, obviously. But I cannot miss my sister’s party, and I can’t leave you here by yourself, so you’ll have to come with me.”

Surely, she’d misheard him. “You’re taking me to meet your family? On your sister’s birthday?”

“Would you rather stay here alone?”

“No.” The last thing she ever wanted was to be alone. Not in a strange place. Without him.

She was so confused. Last night, she was sure she hated him. Now, hearing his voice, and feeling his warm presence, Angelica could only remember the sweet pleasure of their first, strange night together. She’d been chasing that pleasure for months, and had not found so much as a taste of what he’d given her.

Perhaps it wasn’t the pleasure that she was missing, but, rather…him.

That unwelcome realization confused her all the more.

She didn’t want to miss Captain Neill. Admitting her infatuation gave him more power over her than she felt comfortable with. He’d broken her heart once before. She never, ever wanted to feel that way again.

Captain Neill sank onto the foot of the bed, keeping a safe distance between them. “I think we’ll both feel more comfortable knowing you’re not alone. Come with me to my parents’ house. It won’t be all bad. You might actually have a bit of fun.”

If Angelica could prove to herself that what she felt for him was sexual—nothing more—she could go through with his ridiculous plan. She absently let the bedcovers fall from her chest. By the sharp intake of his breath, Angelica knew he liked what he saw. Her other lover had liked it, too. In fact, that man’s hands had never seemed far from her breasts, always clutching, tugging, and lifting them up to suckle. He couldn’t seem to get enough of them.
 

Surely, Captain Neill would feel the same way. If he took her now, they could clear whatever this tension was that hovered between them. Then, afterward, they could both move on with their lives.

He swore, and stammered, “Angelica. Will you please—”

“What?” She played the fool. What did a blind girl know about seduction? “Could I please what?”

“Will you
please
put the covers back up where they were? Better yet, why don’t you get dressed? We have a lot to do today if we’re going to get you ready for a week-long house party.”

She leaned forward, intrigued. She’d never been to a house party before. “Like what?”

He groaned, as if in pain. “Proper clothes, for one. We can’t have you showing your bosoms to my nearest and dearest. You’ll need an entire wardrobe, and toiletries, and…everything, really. Well, my girl, what do you say?”

Angelica sat, speechless. This wasn’t what she had in mind at all.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

He was taking her shopping. This man, who thought her used body so repugnant, was buying her an entirely new wardrobe. Puzzling, to say the least. Not to mention the fact that he intended to introduce her to his family. The plan made no sense, yet Angelica didn’t question him about his motives. She merely took his arm, and allowed Captain Neill to escort her into the High Street dress shop.

Inside, she smelled fragrance—delicate, costly perfume—and the scent of fur, leather, and crisp, clean cotton. Angelica had loved going shopping with her mother. She enjoyed touching the different fabrics, pressing her cheek to the soft silks and stiff brocades. She liked how the ladies who ran the dress shop had fussed over her and given her sweets. She had dreamed of the days when she would be a grown-up, and could wear all the pretty fripperies and furbelows.

She eventually outgrew her girlhood frocks, and began to raid her mother’s wardrobe. Sadly, in those days, her mother had only worn black—mourning for Father, who’d been taken by the Spanish Flu. Angelica continued the tradition, mourning the loss of her old life, snatched from her by sickness, war, and privation.

The color was not important to her. She could not remember red from green, or blue from yellow. But the idea behind the garb of woe appealed to her. She liked black. Blackness was her world. It was all she knew.

Returning her thoughts to the High Street shop, Angelica let Captain Neill guide her between the racks of frocks and coats. She knew people were staring—they always did—but, bundled up in his greatcoat, she must have looked like an urchin he’d pulled in off the street.

“Wait here, Angelica.” He steered her aside, and went in search of a sales clerk. After a moment, she heard his low voice whispering discreetly, though she could not discern his words. Then, he came back to her and placed a woman’s soft, cream-scented hand on her arm. “This is Magda. She is going to take you to a fitting room and help you shop. Choose whatever you need. My family has an account here.”

For the next few hours, Magda and the other sales girls treated Angelica like a pretty doll. They picked the things they liked best, dressing her as if they too had an unlimited budget.
 

She was shocked to discover how short everything was now—short hair, short skirts, short sleeves in the summer. The first frock Magda slipped her into barely passed her kneecaps!

“I don’t think I can wear this,” Angelica said, tugging at the soft jersey hem.
 

The woman moved it back into place. “Don’t be silly. You have lovely legs.”

She felt exposed. Where were the layers of corsets, underdrawers, and petticoats? The only things shielding her from the world were a pair of silk stockings, some lacy step-ins, and this flimsy piece of fabric.
 

“You remembered what I said about selecting only black, didn’t you?”

Another sales girl lifted a blouse over Angelica’s head. Magda fussed over it for a moment before replying, “You can’t go around dressed for a funeral, Miss Grey. People will think you’re batty!”

“They’ll certainly think I’m a madwoman if I try to dress myself in colors and patterns,” Angelica explained. “I won’t know what goes with what. It’s easiest for me to stick with one solid shade.”

Magda forced another blouse on her. “I’ll make certain that everything we choose can be worn with everything else. You can be confident that whatever you put on will suit. And, if you’re still not sure, you can ask Captain Neill.”

The fitting room exploded in to a flurry of feminine laughter.
 

Angelica did not get the joke. “What do you mean?”

“He’s your beau isn’t he?” the woman asked. “He’s so very handsome. Every girl in here would die to trade places with you.”

Other women found Captain Neill attractive. She didn’t know why that surprised her. He had such a pleasant, deep voice. When he’d held her in his arms that first night on her pallet, his body had been lean and firm. Strong. Virile, even despite his sickness. Women responded to that sort of thing. The fact that he had an appealing face only sweetened the pot.

Magda touched her shoulder. “Didn’t you know?” When Angelica shook her head, the woman added, “He’s ever so tall and fit. Strong jaw. Nice teeth. Brown hair, leaning toward auburn—but not ginger.”

Angelica did not understand the descriptive details, but, if Magda and the other girls said he was nice to look at, then she believed them.

“And, if his sister really is Mary Rose Neill, then your handsome beau is a rich man,” Magda explained. “Only the best for Miss Neill. She came in just the other day looking for a wrap to match her birthday frock. It was Callot Seours—special ordered, straight from Paris.”

Angelica didn’t know why he insisted on bringing her to meet his family. To meet his sister, who deserved only the very best. What sort of shaky explanation was he going to give them for showing up to a birthday party with a blind nobody on his arm?

She and Magda went over everything they had tried on, making the final decisions. She needed a week’s worth of outfits—two skirts, three afternoon frocks, four silk blouses, dinner dresses, a woolen cardigan for chilly mornings, and a fur-trimmed coat, plus hats and shoes to match.
 

Also, she needed underclothes, stockings, and nightdresses for bed. Secretly, Angelica loved selecting the silky, gauzy, frivolous lingerie. She’d never had any reason in her life to wear such scandalous drawers. Of course, the sales girls thought it all for Captain Neill’s eyes, but Angelica relished the way the lace edging fluttered against her inner thigh, and how the delicate silk-chiffon kissed the curve of her breasts. It was her own naughty little secret hidden beneath her clothes.

“We’ll have this all boxed up for you, Miss Grey,” one of the sales girls said, her voice muffled behind the pile of garments in her arms.

“Thank you,” Angelica replied, smiling in her direction.

Magda led her back to where Captain Neill sat. He’d been so patient, not to mention generous—an entirely new wardrobe could not have been cheap.
 

Before handing her over, the woman said, “You know, you really ought to get your hair cut. It’s such a lovely dark color, but the weight of it does nothing for your face. Besides, it would be so much easier to manage. I can’t imagine how long that much hair takes to dry. What do you think, Captain Neill?”

“If Miss Grey wants to chop off all her hair…”

Angelica turned to him. Everyone else wore their hair short, and she did not want to stick out any more than she already did. Plus, drab, lifeless locks would spoil all the lovely, stylish things she and Magda had taken such care in selecting.
 

He sighed. “Very well.”

***

While Angelica got her hair cut, Brody popped next door, to the chemist’s. He’d packed a satchel and a suitcase before leaving town, but he’d brought only the essentials. He needed a few extra items, but, really, he wanted something to do. Dress shops and hair salons ranked just below hospitals and nursing homes on his list of places he hated.

He couldn’t go far—what if she needed him?—yet he couldn’t sit among those chattering, gossiping women a moment longer. The chemist’s was his refuge. Brody browsed the shelves of soaps, powders, tablet bottles, tonic waters, and all manner of things he couldn’t even identify.

Seeing the medicated cough syrup behind the counter reminded him of the morphine his body craved. The morphine he had given up for Angelica Grey, who’d given
him
up for a stranger whose spawn she likely carried in her belly.