Truscott thought fast. His eyes grew blank as he sank into the nearest pew, covering them with a trembling hand.
Judith ignored him. She looked about her for some means of reviving his battered victim. The boy lay half-unconscious at her feet, and he was still bleeding. Water! She must have water! She took out her handkerchief, thrust aside the cover of the christening font, and soaked it thoroughly. Then she knelt down, supporting the child’s head upon her arm, whilst she dabbed gently at his lips.
He gazed at her dully for a moment. Then he began to struggle.
“Let me go!” he shrieked.
“You may go when you can stand,” she soothed. “Would you like to try?”
His face was a fearful sight, but he twisted like a cat as he sprang upright. Then he pointed at the preacher as he backed away.
“He’ll pay for this!” he cried.
Judith pretended to misunderstand him. “Were you to be paid?” She reached into her reticule and handed him some coins. “You are so thin,” she said. “Won’t you use it to buy food?”
The money disappeared with astonishing speed, but the cracked lips attempted a weak smile.
“You ain’t so bad,” the child offered. “He won’t beat you, will he?”
“Most certainly he will not,” Judith told him firmly. “Off you go, and don’t forget the food.”
She watched as he limped painfully to the open door. Then she turned her attention to his tormentor.
“Well, sir, what have you to say?” she asked in icy tones. “There can be no possible excuse for such a disgraceful attack upon a child.”
Truscott had been watching her through his fingers. Who did she think she was? She’d flown at him like some avenging angel, ready to strike at him herself if he had not obeyed her. She’d pay for her interference, but not just yet.
He dropped his hands, staring at her with a blank expression.
“Where am I?” he murmured. “What has happened? I have no recollection of anything since the service ended.”
Judith was unimpressed. She suspected him of lying. Was this some ploy to persuade her to excuse the inexcusable? She had been deeply shocked by his behaviour. That a grown man should use such violence to a child was unbelievable.
“You are in your own church, sir. Hardly the place for the scene which I have just witnessed.”
“The boy?” he whispered vaguely. “Was there a boy? I seem to recall a child approaching me…”
“How could you forget it? You left him stunned and bleeding—”
“No, no! That can’t be true! It is unthinkable!”
“Then look at the blood upon the ground, and on my handkerchief.” Judith pointed to the sodden scrap of fabric.
Truscott gave a cry and clutched his head. “I am going mad! Why would I attack a child? Oh, Judith, help me! I am beset with horrors…” He buried his face in his hands once more and began to sob as if his heart would break.
Judith was both startled and embarrassed. Men did not cry, if her own experience was anything to go by. She hesitated, looking at the heaving shoulders, and felt a twinge of pity. The Reverend Charles had broken down completely. For that to happen there must be something sadly wrong.
“I’m ready to listen, if you wish to speak of it,” she said more kindly.
“I…I can’t! You are an angel. Why should I burden you with my troubles?”
“I thought we had promised to share them.” She sat down beside him.
“My dearest, I’d hoped to spare you all distress.”
“Not all, I hope. Charles, you can’t protect me from life itself. Please tell me what is troubling you. I’ll try to understand.”
The preacher raised a tearstained face to hers. His capacity for histrionics, which included the ability to weep at will, had often caused him to wonder if he should have followed his mother’s example, and sought his fortune on the stage. A precarious profession, he’d decided. His present career was much to be preferred.
“So noble!” he whispered in broken tones. “It shall be as you wish.” He stopped then as if to gather his thoughts. “It is my mother, dearest one. I remember now…the boy brought me news of her. Oh, Judith, she is dying! The shock destroyed my reason.”
“We must go to her at once.” Judith took his hand. “You must be strong, my dear. If we delay we may be too late.”
“I won’t allow you to put yourself in danger. She has been suffering from the smallpox. Judith, you knew that I was called away on family business. Now you know the truth of it.”
“But, Charles, she must be cared for. We cannot let her die alone.”
“She is in the best of hands. That was my first consideration. We had hopes of a recovery, but now those hopes are shattered. It is all too much to bear…” Apparently crushed, he bent his head.
“I’m not afraid of sickness,” she protested.
“Sickness?” He managed a ghastly smile. “This is not sickness as you know it, Judith. You can have no idea…”
With sly relish he began to describe the headaches, the agonising muscle pains, the vomiting and the delirium suffered by the victims of the scourge before the appearance of the pustules which often covered the whole body.
Judith’s hand flew to her mouth and she gazed at him in horror. He was watching her closely. Had he frightened her enough?
“The disease is highly contagious,” he continued sadly. “My dear, would you bring such a fate upon your family, let alone yourself? That would be a wicked thing to do.”
“You are right,” she told him earnestly. “But, Charles, what of you? You must also be in danger.”
“No, no! I had a slight attack in India some years ago. The experience was unpleasant, but it is considered to be a form of vaccination, so I understand. For me, there is no danger of infection.”
“Then go to your mother. I must not delay you.”
“How good you are!” He was wise enough not to attempt to take her hand. Possibly he had regained some standing in her eyes, but he couldn’t be quite sure in spite of her expressions of sympathy.
Judith’s reaction to his attack upon the child had astounded him. In his murderous rage he had lost all self-control, but she hadn’t flinched. Though she had expressed it in a different way, her anger had matched his own.
Had he convinced her of his reason for the outburst? For the first time he sensed that he was on shifting ground. He’d been so sure of his ability to bend her to his will, but today he’d seen another side to her character. He had misjudged her, that was all too clear. It was an unnerving thought.
The ability to assess the nature of his fellow-creatures was all-important to his survival. Today this quiet girl, with her softly spoken ways, had caused him to doubt it. There was unsuspected strength beneath that modest exterior.
“I may be away for several days,” he murmured, as he gave her a covert glance. Was it his imagination, or did he detect a fleeting look of relief?
He’d never come closer to losing her, and he knew it. He must give her time to recover from the shock she’d suffered that day. His mother’s fictitious illness gave him the perfect excuse. In any case, the little matter of Nellie and her friends must be dealt with at once.
They’d keep their word. He was in no doubt of it, and he dared not risk a visit from the unsavoury trio.
Judith refused his offer to escort her to her home, urging him to hurry to his mother’s side. He wasn’t sorry to leave her. There was something in her expression, beyond her usual reserve, which made him feel uncomfortable.
She herself was deeply troubled, feeling that for the first time in her life she had gazed into the pit. She’d accepted Charles Truscott’s explanation for his outburst of fury, and even offered her sympathy, but were his words enough? She could not dismiss the memory of the child’s small figure, lying insensible on the ground. Charles must have had some kind of fit…some brainstorm to cause him to act in such a way.
A little worm of doubt stirred in her mind. Suppose that her friends were right about him? It didn’t bear thinking about, but she must face it.
Suddenly she longed for Dan. She’d settle for his friendship, if for nothing else, but even that would be lost to her if she married the Reverend Charles.
Yet she’d vowed that she wouldn’t return to Mount Street.
Judith’s thoughts were churning as she went up to her room. Thank heavens that Bessie had stayed outside the church. She hadn’t witnessed the ugly scene, which was a blessing. The sight would have sent her in search of help for her young mistress, and her first thought would have been to summon Dan, or another member of the Wentworth household.
Judith took off her coat and bonnet, and sank down upon the window-seat, resting her forehead against the cool glass. She must think. Had Charles been lying to her? It didn’t seem possible. Only a consummate actor would have broken down and wept real tears as he had done. Perhaps she herself was lacking in human charity. If he’d been telling the truth she owed him her support.
And if not? The prospect made her shudder. Life in the Aveton household must be preferable to marriage to a liar and a bully. If only she might discover the truth with certainty. She cast about in her mind for some way of doing so, but she could think of nothing. An appeal to her friends was out of the question. Prudence was in no condition to be worried at this time. In any case, she had no right to place the burden on their shoulders.
She must watch and wait. For the next few days, at least, she would have time to think back and consider, but it was difficult to recall in detail the events of these past few months. She must have been living in some kind of trance.
Now all that must change. Her very survival was at stake. She knew it, and her determination hardened. With a strong sense of purpose, she pulled out her papers and began to write. This was one gift which no one could take away from her.
For the next two days she worked on steadily, thankful to be left to her own devices, and pausing only to take her meals with Mrs Aveton and her daughters.
That lady intended to make full use of the remaining weeks before Judith’s marriage to order all the gowns and scarves, bonnets, gloves and underwear which she and her children might require for the coming Season. Judith, she imagined, would not examine the bills too closely, and the forthcoming wedding gave her an excellent excuse.
It was Bessie who noticed Judith’s pallor.
“Miss, you’ll ruin your eyes with all this scribbling,” she announced. “I don’t know how you see at night with just the one candle.”
“I’m all right, Bessie.” Judith smiled up at her.
“No, you ain’t! Why, you ain’t been out for days. See, miss, the sun is shining. Won’t you walk in the Park today?”
Judith hesitated, but at last she allowed herself to be persuaded.
It was pleasant to stretch her legs again, and to feel the sun upon her back. She was pacing slowly beside the press of carriages and horsemen, listening in amusement to Bessie’s pithy comments upon the more outrageous toilettes of certain members of the ton, when Dan fell into step beside her.
Bessie moved a few steps to the rear, ignoring Judith’s look of reproach.
“I think you have an ally, sir,” she said.
“Don’t be cross with Bessie! How else was I to see you? You haven’t left the house for days…”
“That was my own choice.”
“It was a mistake. You are looking positively hagged!”
“Thank you!” There was a suspicious sparkle in Judith’s eyes. She was close to tears. She was plain enough, heaven knew. It was hard to be told that any claim to looks had quite deserted her.
“Don’t be foolish!” Dan took her arm and led her down a side path. “To me you are always beautiful. What is wrong, my dear?”
The tenderness in his voice was her undoing.
“I don’t know,” she said unsteadily. “I wish I did.”
“Something has happened?” His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, holding her away from him as he gazed into her eyes. “Can you tell me?”
Judith longed to pour out the full story of that ugly scene in the church, but her own uncertainty held her back. Dan had disliked Charles Truscott from the first. How could he give her an unbiased opinion! What she needed most was facts.
“Dan, what do you know about smallpox?” she asked.
“A little, Judith, but why do you ask?”
“I just wondered. Is there an epidemic in the city at the present time? It is infectious, I believe…”
“Most certainly! Dearest Judith, you have not been exposed to it, I hope?”
She managed a faint smile. “Of course not, but someone told me that there are cases in the city.”
“I have not heard of it,” he frowned. “In the usual way, you know, the very mention of the word is enough to cause a general exodus.”
“Even if it happened in some outlying part?” Charles Truscott hadn’t mentioned his mother’s whereabouts.
“It isn’t easy to keep the news of an outbreak quiet,” Dan assured her. “It spreads so quickly.”
This information did nothing to ease Judith’s mind. Her uneasiness increased. On the day of the attack upon the child she’d been too shocked and confused to question her betrothed. He’d given her no opportunity to ask why he’d made no previous mention of his mother. She’d taken it for granted that neither of his parents were alive, otherwise she would have been asked to meet them.
It had to be admitted that she knew very little about him. Upon reflection, she realized that they had had few private conversations. Apart from the moment of his proposal, their meetings had always taken place in the presence of Mrs Aveton.
She hadn’t found it strange. Propriety dictated that young ladies did not spend time alone with unmarried men. As a parson, Charles was allowed more latitude, but he’d never sought private interviews with her. She’d put it down to a strict regard for the conventions, and she’d been glad of his forbearance. She could never think of anything to say to him.
Now she began to wonder. Had he been afraid that she might ply him with awkward questions?
“So you are sure that even isolated cases could not be concealed?” she asked.
“One can’t be sure. There are parts of the city where sickness is rife, and the first symptoms of smallpox resemble those of a chill, with shivering and a headache. My dear, this isn’t a cheerful subject. Why are you so concerned?”
“It was just that Charles mentioned—” Her words stuck in her throat. She could not explain her suspicions to Dan.
He was on the alert at once. This was the opening for which he had been waiting.
“He would, of course, be the first aware of it…that is, if he ever ventures into the slums…?” He glanced sideways at her face, but noticed no reaction. It was clear that Truscott had mentioned neither his visit to “The Rookery”, nor to the house in Seven Dials.
“His duties bring him into contact with the poor,” she admitted. “But he says that he is in no danger, as he had a mild attack of the disease some years ago. I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
Dan stopped, appalled. “You must not consider entering those places!” he ordered roughly. “It isn’t just the smallpox, Judith. They are the closest thing to hell that anyone might see.”
She looked at him then, and the huge grey eyes were sad. “I know about the poverty and the overcrowding. Prudence and Sebastian take an interest in these matters.”
“And do you know about the filth, the stench, the drunken beggars, the ragged children, the thieves, and the murderers?”
Judith’s face grew pale. “Then Charles must be in danger every day of his life?”
“Not he! You speak of accompanying him. Did he say where he was going?”
“Not into the slums, my dear.” Her anxiety could no longer be contained. “He is gone to visit his mama. He fears she has the smallpox.”
Suddenly everything fell into place for Dan. He knew now why Truscott had mentioned the disease.
“Have you met her?” he asked quietly. “I have not heard her spoken of before.”
“Nor I.” Judith was aware of his startled expression. “You will think me foolish, but I had not thought to ask.”
“Nor he to tell you?” All the old antagonism was back in his tone, and she laid a gentle hand upon his arm.
“Don’t let us quarrel,” she pleaded. “We have little time, and I am so very glad to see you.” She looked up at him with an expression of perfect trust.
Dan’s heart turned over. He longed to take her in his arms and to swear that he would care for her forever, but he restrained himself.
What could he offer her? He had neither fortune nor position. The idea of living on her money sickened him, though the winning of an heiress was the stated aim of most of the young bachelors of his acquaintance. Let them do so if they could.
He believed that a man should be able to provide for his own family. His face grew dark. Would he ever reach the point where he could do so?
“Dan? What is it?” Judith slipped her hand in his, but he drew it away as if he could not bear her touch.
“Don’t!” he said savagely.
“I’m sorry!” Her lips were trembling. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Offend me? Don’t you know that I…?” He bit back the words he’d been about to say. “Excuse me!” he continued. “I have no wish to quarrel with you.”
They had wandered further from Rotten Row, and the pathway between the bushes was almost deserted.
“We should go back,” she murmured. If any of their acquaintance should see them together in this place it would be construed as an assignation.
“Why?” he demanded. “Shall we be accused of skulking through the undergrowth?”
Judith smiled at that. “Skulking is not your style, I think, or mine, but to be found here must give rise to comment.”
He slipped his arm through hers. “There is no danger of that. It’s too early for the beaux. Brummell, you know, is said to spend a full five hours at his toilette each morning…”
“Is that true? I’ve met him, and I liked him. There’s nothing dandified in his appearance, and he is not forever worrying about the set of his coat, or the fall of his cravat.”
“Once dressed, he doesn’t give his clothing another thought. One cannot improve on perfection, Judith.”
Dan’s blue eyes were twinkling, and Judith felt relieved. This hour with him was a precious time which must not be wasted.
“Have you taken my advice?” she asked eagerly.
“About the drawings? Yes, I did. Lord Nelson is returned to England, as you know. He is staying at Merton with…er…with the Hamiltons. It isn’t far from London…”
“And you have written to him?”
“I heard that at the Battle of the Nile, and again at Copenhagen, he was short of frigates. I sent him my designs for a fast vessel, which is easy to manoeuvre.”
Judith clapped her hands. Her eyes were shining.
“Then if you can supply his needs, you must hear something…?”
“I don’t wish to raise your hopes. He may not find the time to study my ideas…”
“He will, I know it! Oh, Dan, he is a wonderful man…a genius! Nothing escapes his attention.”
Dan smiled at her enthusiasm. “You, too, are an admirer of the hero of the hour?”
“Isn’t everyone? This present Peace is due to him. Had he not defeated the French and their allies the war would not have ended.”
“Agreed! But enough of my affairs. I’ve finished reading the chapters which you left with me. Bessie has them in her pocket. She tells me that you have continued with the book.”
Judith nodded.
“Then may I see the next part? It is so entertaining. I love the way it flows. You have a way with words, my dear.”
“Only on paper,” she protested shyly.
“Nonsense! With us there was never time enough to finish our discussions. Am I not right?”
Blushing with pleasure at his praise, Judith failed to notice the approach of a gentleman who strolled towards them from the opposite direction.
It was only when Dan bowed and uttered a word of greeting that she was aware of him.
Significantly, the man did not stop, but looking up, she saw his surprised expression, and wished that the ground might open up and swallow her.
“Take me back to Rotten Row!” she said quickly.
Dan gave her arm a little shake. “I know what you are thinking, but there is no need for alarm. Chessington isn’t a rattle.”
“That isn’t the point. We shouldn’t be here alone. I feel like a criminal.”
“A sweet criminal,” he murmured tenderly. “Must we go back? It is too early for the Grand Strut…”
His teasing served to remove her troubled frown. He knew as well as she that Judith had no interest in admiring the exquisites who strolled among the rank and fashion, quizzing the ladies, indulging in gossip, and speculating upon the likely cost of the newest and most dashing turn-outs of both carriages and horses. This daily event took place between the hours of five o’clock and six.
She gave him a reluctant smile. “Don’t make game of me! You know that I am right.”
“Very well, if you will have it so.” He turned and began to retrace his steps along the path which they had taken from the Row. “But promise me one thing? You will go on…you will finish the book?”
“I don’t think I can stop,” she assured him. “The words seem to be coming of their own accord.”
“That’s good! When may I read the rest?”
Judith looked at his eager face. That open countenance was so very dear to her. She longed to tell him that she’d come to Mount Street that very afternoon, but she hesitated, knowing that it would be unwise.
They were slipping back so easily into their old friendship. The thought was bittersweet. It would make it so much harder when she had to part from him for ever.
Why must she continue to torture herself? He’d been kind, but his love for her was dead. Now he could not even bear to touch her hand. She’d been deeply wounded when he’d dragged his own away so swiftly.
“Why don’t you answer me?” he asked. “Is it Truscott? Did you not tell me that he is away?”
“He is,” she admitted. “But I feel that I’m deceiving him.”
“Why so? He had not forbidden you to visit your friends, so I understand.”
“No, but it seems wrong of me to go about without a care when he may be in such trouble.”
“Judith, he refused your help, possibly for the worthiest of reasons, but it will do no good to shut yourself away.”
“I’d forgotten how persuasive you can be,” she murmured.
“Have you? I can’t agree with you. My efforts in that direction were not always successful…”
This reference to the past made her change the subject hastily. Six years ago they had each said all that there was to say. There was no point in recriminations.
“I’ll try,” she promised. “If it isn’t possible I will send Bessie with the manuscript.”
“Prudence will be disappointed. You have not seen her in these past few days.” He paused and a shadow crossed his face.
“What is it, Dan? She is not sick, I hope?”
“She is not herself. Sebastian is worried, in spite of what the doctor says…”
“Oh, my dear! She will not lose the child?”
“There are no symptoms, but she is so restless, and the tears come easily. It is unlike her.”
“She must be in some discomfort. I am told that these last few months can be a trial. Will Sebastian take her down to Hallwood? The change might do her good.”
“I doubt if he would risk the journey now, but Pru is so bored and crochety that he fears it will affect her health.”
“She is used to being active. For someone of her lively temperament the enforced rest must be a strain, but it will soon be over. Then she will have her babe, and all will be well again.”
Dan gave her a grateful look. “Always a stalwart, Judith! I hope you may be right. This is an anxious time for all of us.”
Judith understood him perfectly. So many of the girls she knew had enjoyed but one brief year of marriage before succumbing to the dreaded childbed fever. It was a threat which loomed in many a woman’s mind.
“Try not to worry,” she murmured. “Sebastian has obtained the services of the best physician in London.”
“I know it, but I can’t be easy in my mind.”
Judith gave him an anxious look. She knew just how much Prudence meant to him. As a girl of seventeen she’d helped him to escape with her from a life of slavery in the cotton mills of the industrial north. She and Dan were bound by more than the common ties of friendship.
“I think you have forgotten the redoubtable Miss Grantham,” she told him with a chuckle. “Does she not interview your family physicians as to their views on cleanliness and a sensible diet?”
“She does! And she is forthright in expressing her opinions. The lady may be well into her eighties but she can still reduce the medical profession to a jelly.” The idea cheered him, and he managed a smile. “Elizabeth did us a great service when she and her aunt became members of the family.”
“I haven’t seen Miss Grantham for some time,” Judith told him. “I always enjoy her company. She is an original…”
“True! But if you wish to see her soon you had best make haste. This present Peace of Amiens has inspired her to consider yet another trip to Turkey.”
“At eighty-three?”
“Certainly! No one has yet been able to dissuade her, though Perry and Elizabeth have tried.”
“I feel like a feeble creature beside such enterprise.”
“Not you, my dear. I know your strength of character.” Dan was unable to say more as they were now within sight of Rotten Row.
“You must leave us now,” Judith murmured. “We must not be seen together.”
“But when shall we meet again?”
“I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “Tomorrow I may visit Hatchard’s to buy some books…”
“I’ll be there,” he promised.
He left her a prey to the most severe misgivings. Dan had complimented her upon her strength of character, whereas in reality she was weak-willed. Had she not vowed to forget him, and to prepare herself with fortitude for the life which lay ahead of her? Now she was behaving in a way which must be considered reprehensible.
The mention of a visit to Hatchard’s in Piccadilly was not exactly the offer of a secret meeting. Or was it? Honesty compelled her to admit the truth. She could deceive herself no longer. When her choice lay between her obvious duty to the Reverend Charles, and the opportunity of a meeting with the man she loved, she knew that she would follow the dictates of her heart.
Poor Charles! He might at this very moment be sitting beside a sickbed. She was behaving in a wicked way, and it was only right that the happiness for which she longed should be denied her.