I woke in the morning to find Mr Fitzjohn had gone and on the pillow beside me was a small jewellery box. Inside were rose gold earrings set with red gems. I giggled, relishing the memories of the night. I had a lover, and the thought sent a delicious sensation through me. I was blessed indeed, for if Mr Truegood had had his way my virginity would have been long lost to the wine merchant and I would never have known such a tender, loving lord as my Mr Fitzjohn. Oh, what small steps can walk you into a different life. Avery. I said his name over and over again, even letting my imagination gallop ahead into forbidden places.
‘Tully Fitzjohn,’ I said to Boozey, laughing. He flew out of his cage and sat on the end of my bed, his head to one side.
I could smell Avery on my skin – such a delicious perfume – could feel where last night he had reigned in me. I sat up abruptly, wondering what hour it could be for it occurred to me that perhaps I had slept the whole morning, missing my appointment with Mr Crease. I dreaded to think what mood he would be in if that was the case.
Hope came in. Sweet Hope.
‘Good morning,’ she said, drawing back the shutters and letting in the lazy September light. ‘Wasn’t he the most handsome gallant?’
‘Oh my, oh my,’ I said. ‘Do you know, I think I could live with him inside me for ever.’
Hope laughed. ‘Then you weren’t disappointed?’
‘No, he was perfect.’
I pulled back the bedclothes. The sheets were an unholy mess and standing felt peculiar for I was very sore. Hope said she had a remedy – which I was pleased to hear – and I quickly sat down again.
‘You need to eat,’ she said. ‘All that lovemaking has worn you out.’
She ordered a breakfast of chocolate. We drank it and, while my maid bathed and dressed me, Hope told me about her gallant.
‘Mr Fitzjohn left me these,’ I said, showing her the earrings. With the eye of an expert she lifted them up to the light. I felt sure she was going to tell me they were paste and paint. ‘I do not care a jot if they are made of papier mâché, they are most precious to me.’
‘These, my love,’ she said, holding the earrings out to me, ‘are not fake. They are rubies and they look as if they cost a pretty penny.’
That they were real delighted me.
‘I didn’t think it was possible ever to feel as happy as this,’ I said.
‘Tully,’ said Hope, ‘don’t fall in love with him.’
What could I say to that? Tell her the truth? That the kindling was laid the first time I saw you in the coffee house? That all you had to do was strike the flint?
‘Remember, he is paying for your services and, in truth, is most probably married, or has a mistress, or just enjoys deflowering young virgins. Perhaps he is like Captain Spiggot and considers a girl over twenty worthless.’
I refused to give any thought to what Hope said. All those probabilities were distant clouds that had no right to be in such a blue sky as mine.
In the long gallery, Mr Crease stood looking out of the window. I said good morning, and without the bother of turning round he said, ‘Did your groom speak to you at your wedding?’
‘Yes. He said, “Marriage is murder.”’
‘Those are the precise words?’
‘As far as I can remember.’
Still he stood with his back to me. ‘Did you see his face?’
‘No, we were both masked.’
I thought I would say more, and told him about the parson’s wife. Mr Crease had the ability to be absent even though he was present and I wouldn’t have been surprised to find that I had been talking to the wall. When I’d finished, he turned round.
‘Interesting,’ he said.
‘What has happened to Mr Truegood?’ I asked. ‘I mean, has he been buried?’
‘In a debtor’s grave at the Fleet,’ said Mr Crease. ‘And with him is the truth of your marriage.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that there appears to be no record of it.’
‘Then without a record Spiggot has no right to claim me as his wife.’
‘Quite. Shall we start?’
That morning, everything Mr Crease asked of me I managed with ease. I rose off the ground again and again, not very high but enough to make an impression and, by degrees, I could hold it and stay there. At three o’clock, when we finished, Mr Crease said Queenie wanted to talk to me.
I remember wondering, as I went down the stairs, if she would tell me that tonight I would be expected to entertain another gentleman. The thought concerned me much but I needn’t have worried – not at that time, at least.
Queenie informed me that I would be dining with Mr Fitzjohn in my chamber that night and my heart gave a skip of delight.
I curtsied, and was on the point of leaving when she said, ‘Tully, you should congratulate yourself, for you have proved a great success with the young gentleman.’
I passed the rest of the day in the most glorious anticipation which, in itself, is an hors d’oeuvre to the main dish of love. I was quite unprepared when Avery arrived early. After locking my chamber door behind him, he took me in his arms and kissed me with unadulterated passion. I think he must have been dining all day on the same dish of longing as me. My petticoat and shift were pushed aside and, finding that I was moist, he dispensed with the inconvenience of undressing me, only unpinning my kerchief and gown, and swiftly loosening my stays so that my breasts were his to ravish. He kissed them until I started to tremble. He, too, was now overcome with agitation. His breeches were readily undone and I could soon feel the pole of him urgently burrow deep into the soft folds of me. He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his thighs against his losing possession of me, then he pressed me against the wall and such was the force of him and such was my desire to own him once more that we both exploded together and tumbled onto the floor in a quantity of unwanted fabric. I burst out laughing at the swiftness of an act that had brought such pleasure.
I tried to make myself decent when our supper was brought to us, but Avery insisted that he would serve it himself.
Once more locking the chamber door, he said, ‘We will eat, but I would prefer to look at you naked rather than in your gown, which detracts from your beauty.’
I stood and felt the liquor of him run down my thighs while he disentangled me from my clothes.
‘Sir,’ I said, ‘it is surely only correct that you do the same.’
He took off his shirt, breeches, stockings and shoes, and stood before me. The sight of him made my body melt. I sighed, for never had a dish been more to my liking. He was so finely made, I was enchanted with my good fortune and like an unguarded fool said so. He ate with a good appetite and drank to my health. I was too full of longing to taste much and pushed away my plate.
‘I think I could feast on you alone,’ I said.
‘Then, now, madam,’ he said, ‘I will be the dessert.’