Til Death Do Us Part (15 page)

He detected the whiff of anise upon her breath, spotted the slight wavering of focus in her eyes, and instantly recognized with resentment, ‘She's lushed up! And here's me been dying for a fuckin' drink all the fuckin' week and not took a drop!'

He played the contrite suitor. ‘Oh, my dearest Adelaide, I beg you to forgive this intrusion. I know that I'm behaving like a callow, love-sick boy, but I cannot help myself. Every time I am with you I feel complete, but when we are apart I feel as if some part of me is missing. I've never experienced such depth of feelings towards anyone in my life, as these tender feelings I have for you.'

She disengaged her hands and sat down, head bowed, eyes downwards, hands clasped together on her lap. But behind the demure mask she was silently urging him, ‘Stop fucking about, and get on with it. Propose to me! Propose to me!'

‘Adelaide, I have this very morning received a messenger sent by the Court of Directors of the Company instructing me to return to Madras by the earliest possible sailing date.'

He went down on one knee and held a ring towards her. ‘My dearest Adelaide, this betrothal ring was my own beloved mother's, which she entrusted to me on her death bed, making me take an oath before God that I would only ever offer it to the woman I love and wish to spend all my life with.

‘That woman is you, my darling, and you will make me the most fortunate, the most blessed, and the happiest man in this entire world if you will accept this ring, marry me, and return with me to India.'

Triumphant, alcohol-intensified satisfaction coursed through Ella Peelson. ‘I've done it! I've got him!'

From under her lashes she peeped at the ring, and the sight of the glittering diamond and gleaming gold increased her elation. ‘It's fit for a queen, so it is! By Jasus, Ella! You've won the first prize this time, girl!'

Kent took her hand and urged fervently, ‘Say it, my darling girl! Say yes! Say that you'll marry me, my darling!'

Ella Peelson was being engulfed by an emotion she had never experienced before. She was being overwhelmed by a rapidly burgeoning feeling of trust in this, the first man who had only ever behaved towards her, and treated her with courteous and tender consideration. She was asking herself over and over again. ‘Is this love that I'm feeling? Is it? Is it?'

She heard his voice gently begging her.

‘Marry me, my darling. I love you more than life itself. Please, I beg you to say that you'll marry me.'

‘I will. I will marry you, Christophe.'

Kent slipped the ring on to her finger, drew her close and kissed her. Gently at first, but his lately enforced and unwelcome period of celibacy had its inevitable effect and his kisses became increasingly passionate. His hands began to roam, to touch, to caress, to seek and fondle ever more insistently the soft warm flesh of her neck, her silk-covered breasts and thighs.

Ella Peelson was a sexually needful woman who had also been celibate for some time, and her certainty that this handsome virile man was now her own possession to have and keep, coupled with the effects of the gin she had drunk, made her throw all caution to the winds.

She let him undress her, and when his naked body crushed down upon her she hungrily opened her thighs to receive him, and cried out with pleasure as he thrust into her.

Milly crouched on the other side of the door, her eye pressed against the keyhole, avidly watching the writhing and gasping couple, giggling delightedly to herself.

‘They'm having a proper “Do”, like I seen the Master and the big girls in the Poorhouse. They'm having a proper “Do”!'

‘P
hoebe, it's a parson at the door who's asking for you, here's his card,' Mrs Mallot announced excitedly. ‘His cloth and linen looks to be of the very best, and he's come in a real fine horse and gig, and his speech is that of a gentleman. It wouldn't surprise me to find that he's high-born gentry.'

Phoebe Creswell's own excitement kindled as she took the expensively embossed calling card and read the single line of print and the brief handwritten statement beneath it.

The Reverend Geraint Winward DD

I am here on behalf of XYZ

‘It's to do with that letter I sent, Pammy. That letter to the officer who placed the notice in the
Herald
. This gentleman states he has come on that officer's behalf.' Phoebe's sallow features flushed hotly as she flustered. ‘What shall I do, Pammy? What shall I do?'

‘You'll have the sense to see him, o' course, you silly besom,' Pammy Mallot told her firmly. ‘This could be just the chance that you needs of finding a decent husband! Now catch your breath and pull yourself together while I fetches him in.'

‘But what can I say to him? I'm not witty enough to entertain a gentleman or even to make polite small talk. He'll think I'm just a country frump, with no brains in my head!' Phoebe protested nervously.

‘You just act natural and be your own sweet self, my girl.' Pammy Mallot smiled fondly. ‘And if this parson's got even an ounce o' good sense he'll soon see what a good person you are, and what a wonderful wife you'll make for any man on this earth.

‘Now just take some deep breaths and calm yourself down. Remember, even though this parson might be high-born, you'm the sole heiress of as good and worthy a family as ever lived in England.'

She bustled away to return very quickly with Walter Courtney, who bowed with courtly grace, and fervently apologized, ‘It is an honour to meet you, Miss Creswell. I do most humbly apologize for calling upon you without previous introduction. I beg your forgiveness for doing so, and beseech that you will be gracious enough to hear my explanation for approaching you on behalf of Major Christophe de Langlois.'

He waited for her reply, quickly evaluating her gauche lack of poise and self-confidence.

‘She's a timid, woefully plain country mouse, right enough,' he told himself with satisfaction. ‘I do believe I've dropped lucky with this one.'

Phoebe's hands were trembling with nervousness, and her mouth so dry that she could not help but stammer when she answered. ‘P-p-please, Sir, there is no need for any apologies, I am honoured to receive you in my house.' She gestured awkwardly at a fireside chair. ‘P-p-please, be seated. W-w-would you c-c-care for some refreshment?'

He bowed his head as he sat down, and his eyes flicked momentarily towards Pammy Mallot, who was staring like an anxious mother at Phoebe Cresswell.

‘It's not mistress and servant, but mother hen and her chick! That's the way of it between this pair!' He recognized the situation instantly, and made equally instant use of that recognition, rising and bowing to Pammy Mallot.

‘That is most kind of you, Miss Creswell, but I cannot bring myself to trouble this good lady with my bodily appetites.'

‘Oh, it's no trouble at all, Sir.' Pammy Mallot beamed. ‘You just tell me what's your fancy, and I'll have it here for you in two shakes of a lamb's tail.'

Courtney beamed back at her. ‘I doubt not, Ma'am, it is already plain to me that your competence is a match for your good heart. But I feel that we should first discuss the purpose of my visit, and then perhaps take some refreshment and be merry together.'

He sensed that already both women were quite taken by his avuncular smile and manner, and, gesturing at another chair he invited Pammy Mallot, ‘Please will you be seated, Ma'am, and do me the honour of taking part in these discussions.'

‘O' course I will, Sir, and I'm real pleased to be so invited.' Pammy Mallot placed a chair at the side of Phoebe Creswell's and seated herself, but Courtney remained standing.

He produced the two rolls of vellum, which he opened to display the ornately scrolled writing and several imposingly embossed seals. He handed them to Phoebe Creswell and said to both women, ‘Will you please read these very carefully. They are my identification and authorization from His Grace, my Lord Archbishop of the Ecclesiastical Province of Canterbury. I am currently acting as a confidential aide to his Grace, and am touring his province to ascertain the structural condition of our churches, and the ministrations of our clergy.

‘But of course, because of the highly confidential nature of this investigative task my Lord Archbishop has currently entrusted to myself, I would request that you do not speak of what I have told you of my current task to anyone. There are certain parish clergy in this diocese who are sadly lacking in their duties towards their parishioners, and if they were to hear of my presence they would hide their true characters behind a facade of charitable zeal.'

He paused to allow the women to study the scrolls, and noted with satisfaction their awe-struck expressions. Then he went on, ‘For many years I was in India and it was there that I met my good friend, Christophe de Langlois. As you may know the military officers of the East India Company are but poorly paid; they are allowed however to earn money by trading for themselves and also by the rendition of services to the various native rulers.

‘It was by these means that my friend has accrued his monetary fortune, and the ownership of a considerable amount of land and property within the Madras Presidency. Quite a remarkable achievement for such a comparatively young man.'

He smiled as he produced the portrait miniature of Sylvan Kent and handed it to Pammy Mallot, who exclaimed, ‘Oh, just look at him, Phoebe! Aren't he beautiful!'

Phoebe Creswell's sallow features flushed as she stared at the miniature, and then muttered despondently, ‘Indeed he is, but he'll not think that of me, will he?'

‘Come, come, Miss Creswell!' Courtney chided gently. ‘Knowing my friend as I do, I can affirm with the utmost certainty that he will find you most pleasing to his sight; and on meeting you will be as charmed by your manner and deportment as I am myself.'

‘O' course he 'ull, and so 'ull any man who's got an ounce o' sense in his noddle!' Pammy Mallot emphatically agreed, then asked, ‘But where is this gentleman now, Sir?'

‘He is unavoidably detained at the East India Company Military College in Addiscombe. He sends his sincerest apologies for not having been able to come and meet you in person at this time. The reason being that the Court of Directors of the Company are having a series of most important discussions with him.'

Courtney winked roguishly. ‘What I am going to tell you now must remain strictly confidential between ourselves, until he tells you of this himself. Although Christophe is far too modest to boast of his achievements, I have it on excellent authority that he will be advanced to very high office within the Company upon his return to India. He and his bride will be the virtual monarchs of their own realm within the Madras Presidency.'

‘Well now, aren't that something wonderful to think on!' Pammy Mallot's expression verged on the awe-struck.

‘But mind now!' Courtney placed his forefinger across his lips. ‘Not a word about this must pass your lips until Christophe tells you of it himself. Otherwise he'll be most displeased with me for divulging his private affairs.'

‘You can rest assured about that, Sir,' Pammy Mallot told him solemnly. ‘Not even the cruellest torture 'ull make us breathe a single word about what you've just told us.'

‘I have implicit faith in you both, Ma'am.' Courtney smiled and bowed to her, then took his seat and chuckled. ‘And now I would greatly appreciate a small glass of whatever refreshing beverage you may have available, and after that I will answer any questions you wish to ask me.'

Pammy Mallot jumped to her feet. ‘Name your fancy, Sir, and I'll have it in your hand in two shakes of a mare's tail.'

‘I'm exceedingly partial to a small glass of Madeira wine, Ma'am.' He gave her his roguish wink. ‘But that is another thing that must be kept strictly between ourselves. Otherwise, His Grace, my Lord Archbishop, may come to regard me as a shameless old reprobate.'

Both women gurgled with laughter, as Pammy Mallot hastily placed a small table at his side, and a bottle and glass, and told him, ‘Now you drink the whole bottle if you've a mind to, and another dozen after that if you wants 'um, Sir, and your boss 'ull never get to know nothing about it.'

The atmosphere in the room was now verging on festive, and their three-way conversation flowed more and more easily as, with the ease of long practice, Courtney regaled the women with colourful stories of Christophe de Langlois, and his own experiences in India.

When the clock chimed the hour, Courtney reacted with an exclamation of concerned surprise.

‘'Pon my word, is that the time! My dear ladies, what must you think of me? I've been babbling away like a garrulous old fool, and have unforgivably intruded upon your most generous hospitality for far too long I fear.'

He rose to his feet. ‘I shall take my leave this instant, dear ladies; and can only beg for your forgiveness and express the fervent hope that you will allow me to call upon you again?' He shook his head and reproached himself. ‘I've been such an ill-mannered bore. Monopolizing the conversation and not allowing you to tell me more of yourselves. I do apologize most sincerely for having done so. But it is rare for me to encounter such charming ladies, and I could not resist the temptation to tell you about my dear young friend, Christophe's daring exploits in India, and my own much less adventurous years in that far off place.'

‘And we've loved hearing them, Sir, haven't we, Phoebe?' Pammy Mallot's rosy face beamed with pleasure. ‘And we could sit and listen to you talking 'til the cows come home, couldn't we, Phoebe? And you, Sir, must come again tomorrow so we can listen to some more stories about you and Mr Langlois.