At the Highwayman's Pleasure Page 8

  ‘Yes, I see.’ Charity kissed her cheek. ‘Then I shall not visit you if you think it will cause you harm.’

  ‘Aye, well, maybe one day, when Phineas Weston is no longer magistrate,’ said Jenny. She grinned. ‘After all, the old devil can’t live for ever.’

  When she was alone, Charity sat for a long time at her dressing table, thinking over the visit. It had been good to see her friend and Jenny’s description of her life, happily married and with a growing family, had stirred something inside Charity and made her all too aware of her single state. But it took only a moment for her to dismiss the vague discontent. Jenny might have a loving husband and a family, but she was living in Beringham under Phineas’s tyranny, and when Charity compared that with her own freedom and independence, she knew she had no desire to change places with her friend.

  ‘Be honest with yourself,’ she told her reflection, ‘You have no idea what you are looking for, but if it is a man, he will have to be very special to make you give up the freedom you currently enjoy.’

  * * *

  It was the last night of The Provok’d Husband and such was its success that Hywel Jenkin had hired the Assembly Rooms for the reception once the performance ended. Charity removed her paint and powder and allowed Betty to help her into the midnight-blue silk she had chosen to wear. It was important that she should look her best, for she knew Hywel would be using the occasion to raise funds for the theatre and to secure more patrons.

  By the time she had helped her maid to pack away all her costumes, the rest of the company had already left for the reception. It was but a short walk from the theatre to the Assembly Rooms on the High Street and in any other town she had played, Charity would have been happy to walk the short distance alone through streets that were still busy. However, since her meeting with Phineas she had taken to asking Betty to accompany her whenever she walked out. They were just stepping out of the stage door when Charity heard her name. She looked around.

  ‘Mr Durden.’ She was inordinately pleased to see him and it was all she could do not to simper when he gave a little bow.

  Stop it, Charity. He is only a man after all.

  ‘I am on my way to the Assembly Rooms, ma’am. If that is your destination, perhaps I may escort you?’

  A smile burst from her at his invitation, even while she was admonishing herself for blushing like any schoolgirl.

  ‘Why—why, yes, sir, thank you.’

  ‘Will you send your maid home?’

  ‘Mrs Harrup is my dresser as well as my maid. Mr Jenkin has hired a room and refreshments for all the backstage staff, too.’

  And if they had not, Charity would still have insisted that Betty walk behind.... Wouldn’t she?

  Charity took his arm and allowed him to escort her away from the theatre. A biting wind whistled through the streets and there was a threat of snow in the air. She pulled her cloak a little closer about her.

  ‘Are you cold, madam?’

  Ross laid his hand over hers, where it rested on his sleeve. His touch was oddly comforting.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But your gloves are so thin.’ His grip tightened on her fingers until she could feel the warmth of him. She glanced at his hands. They were large and capable, encased in York tan gloves. Surely their warmth could not penetrate through that and the kidskin that covered her own hands? Yet heat was spreading through her whole body as she walked beside Ross Durden. She was aware of a temptation to press even closer to his side, but she resisted and tried to strengthen her resolve by reminding herself it was not part of her plan to ally herself with any man. However, walking in silence beside him was awkward so she searched her mind for something to say.

  ‘I understand you were a sailor, Mr Durden.’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘But you gave it up to run Wheelston.’

  ‘I had no choice.’ His tone brought her eyes flying to his face. In the sudden flare of the street lamp she thought he looked put out, as if he regretted his words, and her suspicions were confirmed when he said more gently, ‘There was no one else to take over when my mother died.’

  ‘And do you miss the sea?’

  She felt his dark eyes turned upon her.

  ‘Would you miss acting, Mrs Weston, if you were obliged to give it up?’

  She considered for a moment.

  ‘I enjoy it, certainly, but I could live without it. However, I would be loath to give up the independence I have now.’

  ‘Ah, independence. Surely if you have sufficient wealth, independence is guaranteed.’

  ‘For a man, perhaps, but for a woman, an unmarried woman, there are always the constraints of decorum and propriety.’

  ‘The solution must be to marry, then.’

  Charity shook her head.

  ‘Not at all. I have no intention of handing over control of my life and my fortune to any man.’

  Charity pressed her lips together, startled by her own vehemence, which more than matched the bitterness she had heard in his voice. She hoped he would not question her, and it was with some relief she noticed they had reached the Assembly Rooms. She carefully removed her fingers from his arm and preceded him up the stairs.

  The rooms were already crowded, and within moments of entering Charity was at the centre of a laughing, chattering crowd. She looked up at Ross, directing a look of smiling apology at him. He merely nodded and moved off, leaving her free to give her attention to her friends and acquaintances, but she felt vaguely dissatisfied. Not that she wanted Ross Durden to cling to her side all evening, but she would have liked him to show a little more disappointment at having her snatched away from him so quickly. She shrugged off the thought and scolded herself for becoming far too conceited.

  Mrs Tremayne was approaching and Charity summoned up a smile of welcome. The widow was one of the theatre’s richest patronesses, but even if she had been a pauper Charity liked to think she would not have treated her any differently.

  ‘My dear, did I see you come in on young Durden’s arm?’ The widow’s rather sharp countenance was flushed with heat from the crowded room. ‘Quite a surprise to see him here tonight, but I would put you on your guard where that young man is concerned, if no one has already done so.’

  Charity blinked. ‘No, ma’am, they have not.’

  ‘Well, you will soon discover he has very few friends in Allingford.’ The older woman leaned closer. ‘Such an ungovernable temper.’ She looked up as the rustle of silk heralded Lady Beverley’s approach. ‘Will you not agree with me, my lady?’

  ‘Agree with what, madam?’

  ‘That Mr Durden’s intemperate nature makes him a man best avoided.’

  ‘Any man may lose his temper if the provocation is great enough,’ returned the magistrate’s wife in her usual cheerful manner. ‘I have never experienced his ill temper, although I do agree the young man did not behave very well, leaving his poor mother to manage Wheelston without any help. However, we do not fall out with him over it—after all, he is owner of a substantial property and Sir Mark is always anxious to get on with his neighbours wherever he can.’ She smiled at Charity. ‘I always make a point of inviting Mr Durden to our little soirées, but he never comes. In fact, he rarely visits Allingford.’

  ‘Then you have not seen him this evening? He is here,’ declared Mrs Tremayne. ‘He came in with Mrs Weston on his arm.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Lady Beverley’s brows went up. ‘Well, well, that is unusual. And he escorted you, Mrs Weston? How interesting.’

  ‘It is nothing, ma’am,’ said Charity, hoping she was not blushing. ‘I met Mr Durden on the street and he accompanied me for the last few yards, that is all.’

  ‘Very gallant of him,’ returned Lady Beverley. ‘But it is hardly surprising that he should take the opportunity—why, any gentleman would
do so.’

  ‘But Mrs Weston should be on her guard,’ Mrs Tremayne persisted.

  ‘Well, now you have warned her I am sure she can be.’ Lady Beverley tucked her hand in Charity’s arm. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, ma’am, I am going to steal Mrs Weston from you. Sir Mark has brought guests who are mad to meet her.’ With another smile she carried Charity off, saying with a twinkle, ‘That is not exactly the truth, but I know how Mrs Tremayne rattles on and I so want you to tell me all about your next production...’

  ‘In a moment.’ Charity led her to a quiet corner. ‘I recall at our first meeting you said Mr Durden’s was a taciturn nature, but that it was—how did you phrase it?—understandable in the circumstances.’

  ‘Heavens, did I? Fancy you remembering that.’

  ‘As an actor I am obliged to remember a great deal,’ replied Charity, not to be distracted. ‘What did you mean, ma’am? What circumstances?’

  The lady glanced across the room to where Ross was standing alone by a window.

  ‘The family at Wheelston always kept themselves apart, my dear. Ross Durden was sent to naval college as a boy, so here in Allingford we knew very little of him, save for his occasional visits to Wheelston. Of course, when he remained at sea after his father died, that did cause some talk.’

  ‘So is it people’s disapproval that has made him taciturn?’ Charity shook her head, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘I can see from your look that there is more to it than that.’

  Lady Beverley gave a nervous little laugh, ‘My dear, I vow you are like a terrier with a bone, worrying away at me like this! It would be wrong of me to speculate and I do so hate gossipmongers—’

  ‘Come now, ma’am. If you are going to allow people like Mrs Tremayne to warn me against the gentleman, then you must give me a reason.’

  Lady Beverley looked at her desperately, but seeing that Charity would not be moved, she capitulated, saying with a sigh, ‘When Mrs Durden became ill Wheelston gradually fell into disrepair. Creditors went unpaid and the staff were turned off, all save Mrs Durden’s nurse companion. There was some talk at the time that she and Mr Durden were engaged to be married, but that might have been pure gossip, for the young lady was rarely seen in Allingford. Certainly she stayed until the old lady died, although she told Dr Jarvis—in the strictest confidence, of course—that she was only staying on out of Christian goodness. She said Mr Durden had instructed that the rents must be put up to help pay for the upkeep of the house. Well, there was only one way that could end: the tenants couldn’t pay and were forced to move out. Wheelston was in a very poor way when old Mrs Durden died.’ She gave a little sigh, her kindly, cheerful countenance unusually sober. ‘Her nurse companion left before the funeral— Well, what else could she do, if there was no money to pay her salary? By the time Mr Durden came home again his mama was buried and the house and estate had been closed up for several months.

  ‘Perhaps he was to blame for the parlous state of affairs—there is no doubt that it could have been avoided if he had left the navy sooner and taken charge of Wheelston—but I saw him soon after he returned and I believe he was very much shocked by what he found, so perhaps he had not realised...’

  ‘So everyone condemns him because he let his estate fall to pieces?’ Charity asked, incredulous. ‘Surely he is not the only landowner to be guilty of such negligence—’

  ‘Oh, no, my dear, it is much worse than that.’ Lady Beverley pulled her closer. ‘He went off in search of his mother’s companion and they rowed terribly, so much so that he was charged with blasphemy.’ Lady Beverley sighed again. ‘I suppose he lost his temper. Being a sailor I have no doubt that he was brought up to be familiar with all the most outrageous curses and oaths!’

  ‘And do you think they had really been engaged to be married?’

  Lady Beverley spread her hands. ‘It was a rumour, never confirmed. But even if she jilted him, nothing can excuse him ripping up at her so brutally. However, he has been severely punished for it. The conviction for blasphemy barred him from holding any military appointment and he was stripped of his captaincy. He could not return to sea and he has been living at Wheelston ever since, doing his best to build the place up again.’

  ‘So that was what he meant.’

  Lady Beverley looked puzzled. ‘I beg your pardon, my dear?’

  ‘I asked Mr Durden why he had not gone back to sea and he said he’d had no choice. Poor man.’

  ‘Yes, but if he had not lost his temper and said such vile things then he would not have found himself in that position. And he has shown no contrition, no remorse for his error. That is why Mrs Tremayne was giving you the hint, my dear, and she is right to urge caution. If the man cannot control his temper, it would be very unwise for you to become too friendly with him.’

  ‘I have not met Mr Durden often, but I had not thought him hot-headed,’ said Charity slowly. ‘And blasphemy is such an—an archaic charge. What he said must have been very bad, otherwise I am sure Sir Mark would have sent him away to cool down—’

  ‘Oh, my dear, the case did not come up before my husband! If only it had, then the outcome might have been very different. No, Mr Durden was charged in Beringham. You see, the young woman was married to the magistrate by then and Mr Weston is the last man to forgive a blasphemer.’

  Charity blinked at her. ‘She is m-married to Phineas Weston?’

  ‘Why, yes! Apparently, soon after she left Wheelston she inherited a small fortune from an aunt, which made her a very eligible match. I suppose poor Mr Durden was distraught that she hadn’t married him, for that would have solved all his financial problems. No, no, it was Phineas Weston who charged him with blasphemy. That might have gained Mr Durden some sympathy in Allingford, had he not chosen to keep himself so aloof.’ She laughed. ‘Such a pity that you should have chosen to style yourself as Mrs Weston, my dear. It is not at all a popular name around here, you know.’

  The familiar chill crept over Charity. Her father was still wrecking lives, although now he was using the law as well as the Bible to justify himself. Her eyes strayed back to Ross. No wonder he rarely smiled, if he had been robbed of a promising career by a few ill-chosen words, uttered under severe provocation.

  She tried to put the matter from her mind as she worked her way around the room, chatting to the rich patrons she already knew and charming the new ones that Hywel introduced to her. There was no opportunity to speak to Ross again, but she was very aware of him in the room. He spoke to very few people and spent most of his time standing at the side of the room. He was a man apart.

  She blocked the thought. If she did not take care, she would be feeling sorry for the gentleman, and that would never do. Her father had frequently flown into a rage at the slightest provocation and she had suffered the consequences. She had no intention of allowing her sympathies to lead her into any kind of liaison with a penniless hothead.

  * * *

  Her smile never faltered, and she continued to chatter and laugh as if she had not a care in the world, yet Charity was exceedingly tired. She longed to send for Betty and to take her leave. However, there were still a number of people seeking her out and it was nearly an hour before she could go in search of Hywel Jenkin. She found him talking to a little group that included Ross Durden as well as Sir Mark and Lady Beverley. Charity hesitated, wondering if she should wait until Hywel was alone, but the hour was advanced and she was longing to go home.

  Hywel smiled as she came up beside him.

  ‘Ah, and here is the leading light of our group of players!’

  ‘I wonder how you manage it, Mrs Weston,’ declared Sir Mark. ‘To be performing night after night and then to stay up to all hours, entertaining us with your sparkling wit and conversation. It must be very fatiguing.’

  ‘One grows accustomed.’ Charity included them all in her smile, her e
yes sliding away from Ross Durden’s dark, intense gaze.

  However, it seemed he was determined to gain her attention, for he asked her quietly, ‘And when is your next performance, Mrs Weston?’

  His deep voice was like warm velvet on her skin. Ideas and half-formed sentences chased around in her head. She had heeded the warnings to avoid Ross Durden, but now realised that she had spent the entire evening thinking of him, wanting to impress him by saying something witty and clever. Now when she had her chance, she could not even open her lips! She was relieved when Hywel answered.

  ‘The first week in April, sir. We are presenting The Clandestine Marriage.’

  ‘Ah, that is a particular favourite of mine!’ exclaimed Lady Beverley. ‘And Mrs Weston is to play Fanny, am I correct? Of course I am, for who else could play the beautiful young heroine? But April? Why, that is weeks away. How are we to entertain ourselves until then?’

  ‘We must allow our players a little break before we begin rehearsals,’ Hywel responded. ‘They need a holiday.’

  Charity met his smiling gaze and chuckled.

  ‘We need our sleep, too, so I will bid you all adieu.’

  Lady Beverley put out her hand.

  ‘Before you go, Mrs Weston, pray tell me you will come to my little soirée on Tuesday next? Just a few friends, you know, and you need do nothing but come and enjoy yourself.’ She continued with an arch smile, ‘Now, I will not take a refusal, since Mr Jenkin has just told us you will not be playing.’