Mother Grady’s house was a fine establishment facing the piazza of Covent Garden. To the casual observer it was a handsome terraced dwelling, perhaps the home of some wealthy merchant or the townhouse of rural nobility. In reality it was one of London’s most exclusive bordellos and behind its magnificently Grecian-columned entrance the great and the good found a safe haven in which to indulge in their vices. They could drink, they could gamble at cards, they could slake their lusts in the rooms upstairs. All for money, of course, for Mary Grady was no philanthropist. She was as hard-headed a businesswoman as Flynt had ever encountered.
Two gentlemen ascended the staircase to the chambers above as Jerome, Mother Grady’s nephew and the house bully, led them across the hallway to the well-appointed, but for the moment empty, parlour. Jerome said he’d let his aunt know they were there and Bess wandered the room, her eyes wide with astonishment at such opulence. Flynt continued to watch for a sign that her conscience was pricked by what she had done but so far had seen none. That did not mean it wasn’t working at her from the inside.
Cain made straight for the two decanters on a corner table and poured a hefty measure of brandy into a fine crystal goblet. When Mother Grady entered she treated Bess to a long and disdainful study before noting the glass in his hand but also regarding him with curiosity, and then to Flynt when her customary steely expression returned.
She flicked a finger at Bess. ‘This is not a home for verminous bunters, Jonas Flynt,’ she said, her Irish accent somehow making the insult even more cutting.
Bess flared at what she saw as defamation. ‘I ain’t got not no vermin about my person, you blubber-cheeked harridan, and I ain’t no bunter, neither.’
Mother Grady’s expertly applied eyebrows raised at the audacity of a street girl addressing her in such a fashion and Flynt dropped his head so she would not see him smile. Bess’s barb was far from accurate, for though Mary Grady displayed her prosperity with a fuller figure than in her youth and had sufficient years to be the girl’s mother, perhaps even her grandmother, she was far from portly of face.
‘She has a tongue on her, I’ll give her that,’ she said and Flynt heard amusement in her voice. Mother Grady admired spirit in a girl. It was her own spirit that had ensured she survived her world. She walked around Bess, assessing her with an expert eye. ‘Perhaps if she were to have a bath and a brush hauled through that tangled haystack we might make her more presentable.’
‘I had me a bath last week, I’ll has you know.’
‘Yes, but how many had shared the water before you? What’s your name, girl?’
‘They calls me Edgeworth Bess.’
Mother Grady tutted, for she had no time for the custom of naming girls after their location or birthplace. She saw to it that all her girls were treated with respect and called Miss by her patrons. ‘It’s good to remember where you came from, I suppose. Show me your teeth.’
Bess reared back. ‘You’ll see my chatterers when I sinks them into your scrawny throat.’
‘Mrs Grady,’ Flynt said when he felt she was about to give Bess a slap. Mother Grady had a powerful arm on her and he had seen her rock a man twice her size back on his heels. ‘I’ve not brought Bess to work. I just need a place where she can find refuge for a time.’
‘I ain’t staying here,’ Bess said. ‘I can look after myself, I can.’
‘Bess, it isn’t safe for you on the streets, not while Romulus Trask is out there.’ He caught Cain’s eyes, searching again for some revelation that he had not adhered to his wish that Trask not be further harmed. Cain sipped his brandy and revealed nothing.
Mother Grady became interested. ‘The Trasks? They are after this creature?’
‘Romulus only. Remus has gone to a better place, wherever that may be for his like,’ explained Flynt.
The madame gave Bess a closer scrutiny and Flynt had little doubt that she was putting two and two together and coming up with a number in which one brother did not figure and that Bess was the one who had done the subtracting. ‘I have little time for the Trasks,’ she said. ‘Nasty, brutish sods. If one is gone, then the world is a cleaner place. Well done, my girl.’
‘I need Bess to be safe until I am convinced that Romulus has no desire to seek vengeance for his brother.’
Flynt continued to eye Cain, but there was no flicker in his eye, no unconscious twitch or shift in stance. His expression remained even.
‘My friend here also has a wound that might require attention,’ Flynt said.
Mother Grady tilted her head, one hand placed upon her waist. ‘So, I am a refuge for the waifs of the street and also an infirmary? Do you take me for some kind of charity, Jonas Flynt?’
‘You will, of course, be recompensed for your time and services.’
‘Damn right I’ll be recompensed! And I’ll be adding that brandy to the bill, don’t you worry.’ She crossed the room to stand before Cain and examine the wound. She poked it with her forefinger and smiled when he winced. ‘Tender, is it?’
‘Somewhat, madame,’ he replied, moving his shoulder out of reach in case she saw fit to probe again.
‘It doesn’t look too bad.’ She tilted her head to assess him from hat to boot. ‘What do they call you, lad? This lump here doesn’t see fit to make proper introductions, him being a Scot and therefore a stranger to manners. And don’t be giving me any street names, I’ll have the one you were baptised with, and if you didn’t take the water then the name your mother gave you.’
‘My mother called me Gabriel and she was Meg Cain.’
Mother Grady pursed her lips as she put the names together. ‘I heard tell of a Gabriel Cain a few years back, used to follow the road knight trade on the heaths, as did someone else we could mention.’ A quick look was thrown in Flynt’s direction. ‘Would that be you?’
‘It must have been another Gabriel Cain.’
‘It is not such a name that it is likely to be attached to more than one cove, I’ll hazard.’
Cain’s smile was charming. ‘An imposter then, using my name. If I were to ever meet that rascal I should remonstrate with him most ardently.’
‘You had best turn to necromancy then, for I heard he was hung out west somewhere.’
‘I have heard this already. A fitting end, I am sure, to befall such a foul creature, for to steal a man’s purse is one thing, to take his good name leaves him much the poorer. I believe it were the Bard of Avon who wrote such words, but forgive me as I am not learned enough to recall them with exactitude. My friend Jonas has the learning and right fond he be of displaying it.’
Mother Grady’s smile was genuine. She obviously liked Cain, who was now throwing Flynt an easy wink. ‘What say you, Jonas? What be the precise phrasing used by old Will Shakespeare?’
Despite the grimness of the evening, Flynt felt good humour tease his lips. Gabriel always did what he could to relieve the gloom of any situation. ‘I regret it does not spring readily to my mind.’
It had, but he would be damned if he would prove Gabriel correct, even if he had mangled the quotation.
‘I would wager that it does.’
Belle St Clair’s voice came from the open doorway and Flynt felt the smile that had been tickled by his friend burst into life when he turned and saw her. As usual, he found his breath quickening. Her dark eyes flashed towards him with humour as she walked into the room.
‘Jonas, it’s good to see you.’
‘And you, Belle.’
They stared at one another for a brief moment but a great deal passed between them. They had been physically intimate in the past, a business transaction certainly, but since his return from Edinburgh he had curtailed such carnal visits in a belated attempt at being faithful to Cassie. However, in subsequent conversations with Belle he had come to believe that deeper feelings were harboured, though having learned the necessities of business at the hand of Mary Grady, she kept them well hid, only allowing them to break through in an occasional look, a touch, a word. She had nursed him most tenderly following his struggles on the ice with a murderer. He thought perhaps that physical intimacy had been replaced by something deeper, more lasting. Even so, he felt something more primal stirring when he looked upon her face.
And then it was replaced by a vision of Cassie. My God, they were so alike.
Belle’s gaze lingered for but a moment before it shifted towards Cain and Bess.
Cain affected a bow. ‘Madame, allow me to introduce myself, for as has already been established this lout has not the wit nor the manners to do so. I am Gabriel Cain.’
Flynt sighed and shrugged towards Belle, who smiled and moved across the room to extend her hand for Cain to kiss it. Flynt almost rolled his eyes. ‘Anabelle St Clair,’ she said.
‘No offence to you, madame,’ Cain said in deference to Mother Grady, ‘but I can see why my friend here has such affection for this house.’
‘Aye,’ said Mother Grady, ‘Jonas Flynt was once a regular partaker of the services on offer, Belle in particular, but now he brings me only waifs and strays.’ She jerked a thumb towards Bess. ‘Belle, this here bag of rags is what they call an Edgeworth Bess on the streets.’
Belle inclined her head towards Bess. ‘What is your given name, dear?’
Bess hesitated for a second, as if lack of use had left cloudy her memory of the name with which she was born. Her response carried none of her customary surliness, for Belle had a way with people that others did not. ‘Elizabeth Lyon,’ she said, then added as if it needed explanation, ‘I was birthed in Edgeworth.’
Belle smiled and it was like someone had lit a thousand candles, something she shared with Cassie. Flynt cursed himself for the memory. This was not the time. It was never the time.
‘That is the way of our world, dear,’ Belle said. ‘We have one name that is our own, and another that is given us by those we serve. Those who cannot see beyond the colour of flesh call me Tawny Belle.’
‘Not in my hearing, they don’t,’ said Mother Grady.
‘Not everyone calls me that.’ Belle’s attention drifted fleetingly back to Flynt. ‘For some the colour of my skin is not exotic or something to despise. There are those who only see me as a person.’
Mother Grady saw the look, glanced herself at Flynt, and then, using only her thumb and forefinger, took Bess by the sleeve of her threadbare dress. ‘And you, my girl, will be Elizabeth while you are under my roof. And it’s a scrub for you and right immediate.’ She crooked a finger at Cain. ‘We will tend to your scratch in the kitchen, Mr Cain.’
Gabriel was about to argue the point but then he too grew aware of something passing between Belle and Flynt. He took her fingers again and kissed her hand lightly. ‘Miss Anabelle, it be an honour to make your acquaintance.’
‘And you, sir,’ she said. ‘Any friend of Jonas is a friend in this house.’
In the doorway, Mother Grady snorted. Cain smirked as he passed Flynt on his way out of the room. ‘Jonas,’ he said.
When the door closed behind them, Belle moved to an armchair but Flynt took himself to the decanters. He gestured to them in an unspoken inquiry but she declined with a wave of her hand. He poured himself a stiff brandy and drank deeply, feeling the welcome burn in his throat and gut. It had been a long day and night.
‘Who is Bess, Jonas?’
‘She is a young woman who needs refuge, whether she wants it or not.’
‘And what is she to you?’
Her tone was casual but he sensed there was an edge to her query. ‘An acquaintance.’
‘A close acquaintance?’
‘No,’ he reassured her. ‘She is friend to young Jack.’
Belle knew Jack and had met him while Flynt had convalesced from his wounds. ‘A personal friend, or a business friend?’
Flynt felt a slight smile begin. ‘For Jack there is a longing for the former, but he has to satisfy himself with the latter. For Bess…’ He considered the girl. ‘Like many women, she is difficult to read.’
‘Like some men, too,’ she said, but he failed to discern whether it was directed solely towards him or a general observation. ‘And she requires refuge from what?’
‘From men who may wish her harm.’
‘There are men who always wish women harm. Can you protect us all?’
‘Many do not need my protection, for they are most capable themselves.’
‘Bess is not?’
He glanced to the door, as if he expected the girl to be listening. ‘Probably, but I need to be sure.’ He sipped the brandy again, savouring it for a moment. ‘She killed a man this night.’
Belle’s eyes widened. ‘A cull?’
Flynt shook his head. ‘A man who meant to kill either Gabriel or me, or both. She saved us. I owe her something for that.’
‘Was it you who placed her in this jeopardy?’
‘No, it were circumstance, but I happened to be part of it, I confess. I need her to not be alone for a time and would ask that you look after her.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because you were once looked after by another when you first came to this house. You have an understanding of what it is to be alone and out of your depth, and at this moment Bess wallows in deep water.’
Belle had once told him of a woman who had taken her under her wing when she first arrived in Mother Grady’s house, freshly shipped over from the Indies. The woman later died but Belle always remembered her kindness and did what she could to look out for her son. However, fate has a way of mocking care.
‘But she is not alone, is she?’ Belle observed. ‘She has you and Mr Cain.’
‘We have tasks elsewhere.’
‘You always do.’
The moment hung between them, as many moments had before. He knew he should say something but couldn’t find the words. He cleared his throat and decided that remaining on the subject of Bess was a safer option. ‘A killing burrows deep. The girl may affect a callous exterior but it is like a cancer, eating away at the soul.’
‘The soul? You are not a believer, Jonas, and yet you talk of soul?’
He shrugged. ‘It is as good a word as any to describe the spark that fires our life, that ignites the flame of consciousness.’
‘I do believe there is a spiritual person within you after all, Jonas.’ She thought this over, then said, ‘I’ll look after her, you know I will.’
‘I’m grateful.’
They stared at each other across the room in silence for another moment. This time he sensed there was something she wished to say, something of which Mother Grady had been aware, which was why she had ushered the others out so suddenly. He waited for Belle to speak again, sipping his brandy.
Finally, her eyes dropped to her hands clasped on her lap. ‘I am a free woman now, Jonas.’
If he was to hazard a guess as to what she had to say, it would not have been those words. Belle had been bought on the block and transported as a child to London to be tutored by Mother Grady. She had been lucky, for though the woman was stern, unlike some other keepers of bordellos she was not overly cruel and Belle not only learned how to pleasure both men and women but also was introduced to literature, art and music. Mother Grady allowed her to keep a portion of the fees she raised in full knowledge that one day her pupil would buy back her life and free will. Flynt also knew this, but didn’t realise she had amassed sufficient funds to do so.
‘You have bought your papers?’ he asked.
A slight smile. ‘I have been given them.’
Flynt was again surprised. ‘Mother Grady did not accept your money?’
‘She did not.’
He remembered a conversation he’d had with Mary Grady a few months before. He had made another attempt to buy Belle’s freedom himself but she had thrown his offer back in his face.
Belle will have her freedom but not because some man wills it. She will have it because she wills it… You are like all men, you either wish to ruin us or save us and you cannot fathom that women are capable of doing both themselves.
He had ever suspected that the tough old brothel keeper harboured softer feelings towards Belle and now it was proved.
‘So what will you do?’
‘I will remain here,’ Belle said, ‘but as partner and equal to Mother Grady. She wishes to step back, to enjoy her life a little, though she’ll still be present to oversee and to guide. She’s told me that I deserve this.’
She will work for it and she will have it, you should have no fears on that score.
Another echo of the conversation the year before.
She will either have all this or a house of her own.
‘I am right glad to hear this, Belle, I congratulate you on your good fortune.’
‘Thank you, Jonas.’ She paused. ‘I will no longer be working, you understand, apart from a few special gentlemen.’ She paused. ‘I need not tell you that you are ever seen as special.’
Her gaze was steady and under it he felt himself respond not just emotionally but physically, so he turned away and laid the crystal back on the table. ‘I appreciate that, and I’m glad for you, Belle. I’m sure you’ll make this house even more prosperous than it already is.’
He knew the words to be hollow but there was another woman, unseen, standing between them.
Belle recognised his tone, as she had done many times that year. She sighed softly. ‘You must move on, Jonas. You can never regain what you had, for, in truth, you never really had it.’
He couldn’t find any words but he felt a burning in his throat that was not caused by the brandy. It grew stronger when she rose to stand directly in front of him and place her hand upon his chest. The pressure of her fingers and palm was both pleasurable and painful, as if they seared through his clothing to his flesh.
‘I love you, Jonas, you must know that.’ He opened his mouth to reply but she shook her head. ‘No, say nothing. No platitudes, no polite gratitude, for they are empty. I say I love you and I mean it. I love you not as a friend, not as a courtesan in love with your coin. I love you because I know that you are a caring and wonderful man. I know there is another side to you. You are a killer of men, but you do not do so lightly. You will kill for a reason and when it is necessary, even if only for self-preservation, but it has affected you. You say that a killing eats away at you. How much of you is left, Jonas? You carry guilt like a yoke on a beast of burden. It weighs you down. Guilt over what you have done. The people you have killed, the people you have hurt, the people you have lost. One day that guilt will consume you completely, unless you let it go. Unless you let her go.’ She pressed her hand against his breast more firmly. ‘She has taken root in here—’ She reached up with her free hand to tap a finger on his temple ‘—and in here. She did not do it purposely, for it was you who planted her there. I am not a free woman because Mary Grady signed a document. I am free woman because I believe it to be so, and even though I was another person’s property in the eyes of the law, I always believed it to be so. You believe yourself to be a free man, but you are not. You are enslaved to the self-reproach you feel because of the people you have failed. Set yourself free, Jonas, before the contagion destroys you.’
Flynt ensured Bess was settling in as well as possible, his solicitude resulting in expletive-laden advice on what steps he could do to gratify himself, before taking his leave in the company of Cain, whose wound had been freshly cleaned and dressed by Mother Grady herself. In the piazza, where the denizens of the night milled and worked and solicited, Gabriel rotated his shoulder. ‘If Mary wished to give up the bordello trade she would make an excellent field surgeon. If she were a man, of course.’
Though Belle’s words remained lodged in his head, Flynt still smiled. ‘It’s Mary, is it? Not Mrs Grady or Mother Grady? I’ve never heard anyone address her as Mary.’
‘What can I tell you, my friend, that you don’t already know? I have a gift when it comes to the ladies.’ They walked a few paces before Cain added, ‘As have you, Jonas. Yon Miss Belle is a rare beauty.’
‘We’re friends only,’ Flynt said.
‘Friend or customer, I fancy she bears deeper feeling in that fine bosom.’
Flynt wondered if Cain had been listening to the conversation, but knew in his heart that he was merely someone who noticed tiny little indicators. When they brought a carriage to a halt on the heaths, he was always able to predict which way a cove was going to react. Flynt had developed the same skill, but Cain’s was honed to a fine degree. It had often stood them in good stead, allowing them to avoid bloodshed. There were times, though, when that sense had deserted his friend, when the darkness that existed in his heart took over and Flynt had to hold him back from undue violence, as he had done – hoped he had done – in regard to Romulus Trask.
‘You should pursue her, Jonas. Especially now that she is a lady of some enterprise and property.’
Again, Flynt was surprised that Mother Grady had revealed this. The man’s ability to glean information from others was uncanny, especially if they were women.
‘It would appear Mother Grady was right talkative.’
‘Aye, garrulous in the extreme. Or at least, as garrulous as Mary gets, I would imagine.’ They stopped. ‘I am for my bed, Jonas, and will leave you here. But we will meet upon the morrow, in the Black Lion. I am invested in this quest of yours, on behalf of whoever this mysterious paymaster is for whom you undertake it. I have a suspicion the Trasks won’t be the only ones seeking this lawyer, and it would be remiss of me as a friend were I to leave your back unguarded.’
Flynt was on the verge of refusing his assistance but thought better of it, for despite his misgivings over what he may or may not have done in that Rookery hallway, it felt good to have the man at his side again. He held out his hand and Cain grasped it.
‘Tomorrow then, at ten of the clock, we shall have oysters and ale and we will consider the next step together, eh?’
Flynt had a report to make on his progress to Colonel Charters at that hour in the Lion. ‘Make it eleven and the Shakespear’s Head.’
‘Eleven and the Shakespear it will be.’
Flynt nodded. ‘Thank you, Gabriel.’
The charms of a Covent Garden Nun drew Cain’s attention. ‘Ah, keep your thanks, for what is a friend for, if not to face almost certain death in a cause he knows nothing about?’
The woman smiled as she approached, displaying teeth not yet ravaged by life. ‘You want some business, friend?’ She scrutinised Flynt too. ‘I can takes both of you fine gentlemen, if that be your pleasure and you don’t mind getting right friendly with one another.’
Cain put his arm around her. ‘My dear, that is not our pleasure, and even if it were, my friend here has other affections on which he can call, have you not, Jonas?’
Despite himself, Flynt’s eyes were drawn to the house in the west corner opposite the Garden, where a candle burned behind the window he knew to be Belle’s. He had stood on this spot a number of times, looking to that square of light, but never proceeding further.
‘So it’ll just be you then, my sweet,’ said the woman, her body pressed tightly against Cain’s.
‘Trust me, my love, I am all you will need.’
Flynt wondered at his friend’s stamina. ‘I thought you were for your bed, Gabriel.’
‘I am for my bed. Just not alone.’ He shot a meaningful glance towards Mother Grady’s door. ‘And neither should you be.’
‘Not tonight, Gabriel.’ Flynt smiled, then touched his hat to the lady. ‘Goodnight to you both.’
‘You’re a cold one, Jonas Flynt,’ Cain said as he walked away. ‘Just don’t let her go cold on you too…’