Magic that evening lay in the power of Avery’s voice, for the moment Wrattan heard him he pushed me away, ran down the stairs and escaped into the crowds of people who stood outside. Ned went after him. I tried to ask Avery how he came to be there, but the pain in my side overwhelmed me. I put my hand to my stays and found blood.
‘What the devil happened?’ said Avery.
Before I could answer, Flora came up to us. ‘Where did Pulcinella go?’ she said.
‘Who?’ said Avery.
‘Victor Wrattan,’ said Flora.
‘Whoever he his, why would he try to take Tully away by force?’ said Avery.
‘I cannot imagine why,’ said Flora. Seeing Queenie approaching, she turned on her heels. ‘Tish tosh.’
‘If I’m not mistaken,’ said Queenie, ‘it is you, Mr Fitzjohn.
I’m very pleased you’ve come to our ball after all but you will have to excuse Tully – Mr Crease is about to start the third performance.’ She stopped and put her hand to her mouth. Blood was seeping from my side into my gown. ‘Oh, my! I will call the doctor.’
‘It’s not necessary, madam,’ said Avery, his arms round me. ‘I will attend to Tully.’
He carried me to my chamber, laid me on the bed and told my maid to bring warm water and bandages. Once she’d brought them, she was sent for wine and food and by the time she’d returned, Avery had played the part of an abigail. I was lying naked on the bed, my hair, which had been loosely pinned, had come tumbling down in thick ringlets. The wound wasn’t deep but it did bleed profusely. Avery gently rolled me on my side, and cleaned and dressed it.
‘You seem to know exactly what to do.’
‘I have been attending to wounds since I was but seventeen. I was sent on the Grand Tour but, hating my tutor, I ran away from him in France and went to live in the household of a surgeon, a relative of my mother. He was a kind man and, as I didn’t faint at the sight of blood, he made me his assistant.’
‘And when you marry your countess,’ I said, ‘will you still practise?’
‘I very much hope so.’
‘I’m glad, for you seem well versed in human anatomy.’
‘Are you acquainted with the man who did this?’ One word, one lie and all is altered. I could have been honest with you then, except I had no desire to ruin the evening with the unpalatable truth. ‘He must have been out of his mind, or drunk.’
‘Probably both,’ I suggested, and quickly changed the subject. ‘Are you not supposed to be halfway to Dover by now?’
‘I missed the coach, and I’m glad I did.’
‘So am I,’ I said.
‘This, my lady,’ he said, kissing me on the lips, ‘is the best treatment for all wounds.’ He placed his hand on my breast. ‘These beauties, so white and firm, these nipples like rose petals…’ He bent and took the tip of one in his mouth. ‘It will be my pleasure to kiss every part of you.’
‘Yes, madam. It is the only cure I could prescribe for such an injury.’
‘Then, sir, I am much in need of your medicine.’
He kissed my mouth, my neck, and down and down, and oh, the fire, it sent my body to flame. And my mind could only think of how he would feel inside me. When he reached my Venus mound, he kissed there the softest parts of the fruit, lingering until my juice flowed and I lost myself in the little death. His maypole hard, such a delight to look upon, to touch, he knelt above me, then, bending over, eased himself into the moisture of me until I could feel all of him and still want more. Our lovemaking that night had a sweet desperation to it in the knowledge that we would not meet again. Avery told me he was leaving at dawn and he could not miss the carriage. Not this time. We treated night as if it were day and let not one moment of it be lost in dreams.
I had a chance then to tell you my truth. It was on the tip of my tongue but the morning light flooded the chamber and you took me again. Why waste the last farewell with the dregs of the past? I gave myself to voluptuous lovemaking.
‘Don’t go,’ I said, as I felt him ease out of me.
He bent and kissed my belly. Determined not to cry, I watched him dress by the dusty, autumn light.
‘Wait,’ I said, as if I had just found something in the wreckage to cling to. ‘I was going to give you this last night.’
It was in a little cotton pocket and didn’t look important.
‘What is it?’ he asked, taking it.
‘A present.’
I was quite naked and, shivering, pulled the sheet off the bed to wrap round myself. Avery looked at me as he opened the present and I swear I saw a tear in his eye. He kissed me, said nothing more, and left.
When someone one loves is gone, one can almost bear the first few moments. I could still in my mind hear his voice, feel his touch on my skin. It was only as the minutes knotted themselves into hours that loneliness imprisoned me.
By the time all the guests had finally left, nine o’clock had passed and the fairy house had gathered itself in the silence, relishing the morning peace.
I went to find Mercy. Forgetting to knock – which was a bad habit of mine, especially where Mercy was concerned – I found her in bed with the nymph who possessed an abundance of red, curly hair.
I was on the verge of tiptoeing out again when Mercy said, sleepily, ‘Tully?’
‘I should have knocked,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ she said. She sat up and pulled back the bedclothes. ‘Come here.’
I climbed in and she held me in her arms and kissed me.
‘Ned found his costume in some bushes. I brought his mask back. Perhaps I should nail it to the wall as a trophy.’
The woman with the red hair yawned and said, ‘Who’s this?’
‘It’s Tully. Tully, this is Mofty.’
‘Is the wound deep?’ asked Mofty, raising her head to look at me.
‘Not too deep. I will survive.’
‘You were fortunate. My husband is a vile, cruel man.’
‘And he is in some way connected to my husband,’ I said.
‘Ralph Spiggot,’ said Mofty.
‘Alas, yes.’
‘Spiggot was but a boy when Victor employed him. He is probably the only creature my husband truly cares for. They are close, and together they are the very devil’s disciples. You must take great care.’
Mercy put Mofty’s hand on her breast.
We fell asleep. I woke to Mercy’s kisses
Mofty said, softly, ‘May I join in?’
‘I would like it if you would,’ I said.
Mercy rolled me over so that I was between them, and Mofty’s mouth found mine. Such was their passion, so tender their kisses, I found myself much comforted. They both with such sweetness brought me to that moment when all is beyond reason and I let out a cry of joy. As Mercy went to Mofty I slipped out of bed and, silently closing the door behind me, I left them to the main dish that only lovers enjoy.
Downstairs the servants were still working and I was about to drift back to my chamber and sleep a little more when a footman arrived with a message.
‘For Miss Tully Truegood, and no one else,’ he said.
I thanked him, and thinking it was from Avery went upstairs shaking with excitement. Out of the envelope fell a key. Ignoring it, I hungrily read the letter – once to know it wasn’t from Avery, again to understand what it was saying, and a third time to know what my future would be without him.
Madam,
Allow me to prostitute my pen and push aside all modesty. Let virtue go to church. My purpose as a shameful scribbler is simple: I am in pursuit of your sweet love. I have no illusions that it will flourish at first sight of me: my knowledge of such tender seedlings as love and desire persuades me that they need nourishment and time to grow. But first the seed must find a bed in which to lie.
I ask nothing more than that you accept my invitation to visit my garden at Highgate. I designed it with the express wish of showing my mistress the tender way of my affections and how I would love her. The key that you hold opens the door.
Please, I pray, do not upbraid me. I am but a human filled with desire and loathing in equal measure, as are all God’s creatures. In my youth my presence alone was enough to sway a lady’s feelings. Now, in the autumn of my life and on this October afternoon, I beg you, my dearest of fairies, whose whole being has made me insensible to reason, to come to see the garden for yourself. You must be the judge. If my immodesty has offended, close the door, put the key under the stone, and think no more of it.
My carriage will call for you at one o’clock tomorrow afternoon.
I am, madam, your obedient servant,
Lord Barbeau