Arabella (16 page)

             
No!  She denied the traitorous thought as unworthy.  Harry loved her.  He must.  He must… she felt the sob rise in her throat as a wave of unbearable misery swept over her, but she held it back.  She must never let Harry see her when she was less than her best.

             
Arabella's worst moments were when she thought of her father.  She had almost written to him several times, but shame had made her hold back.  If Harry married her she could beg her father to forgive her, but until then she was afraid of what he might say or do.

             
She knew that in the eyes of the world she was ruined.  No decent woman would acknowledge her now let alone invite her into her home.  Lady Mary would think her a fool and Nan…Arabella did not wish to imagine what her sister might say.

             
Was Nan happy in her marriage?  Arabella sometimes regretted the manner of their parting.  It was sad that her sister had turned against her, and all because she had allowed Sir John Fortescue to take her home one evening.  She did not regret having turned down his offer of marriage.  Whatever happened to her in the future, she had been happy with Harry…most of the time.

             
Arabella did not think about the Marquis of Roxbourne.  Whenever her thoughts strayed that way, she cut them off sharply.  He would have forgotten her by now.  He had warned her that she would be ruined, and no doubt he was congratulating himself on having had a lucky escape.

             
No, she would not think about him.

             
'A penny for your thoughts, Bella?'

             
She smiled up at Harry.  'I was thinking I might buy a new gown when we go to London – my old ones are becoming rather tight.'

             
'You should have said.'  He took ten guineas from his pocket and gave them to her.  'That should buy you something pretty.'

             
Arabella smiled and thanked him.  Used wisely, the money would enable her to buy several things she needed for herself and her child, for she would visit one of the establishments in London where it was possible to purchase good quality second-hand clothes.  She would hoard her small store of money carefully.  Harry was generous when he had money in his pocket, but his luck would surely not last forever.

             
She must have something by her in case he needed it.

'Oh, Harry – this is wonderful!' Arabella cried as she looked round the tiny house he had taken for them.  It was situated in the quiet area of Hampstead not far from the Heath.  'So much nicer than the inns we've been staying in.'

              'I thought it would be better for you,' Harry said, his eyes moving over her reflectively.  She was seven and a half months gone now and beginning to look awkward, her skin a little blotchy and pale.  Until this last week he had still wanted to make love to her, but his interest had waned.  'You will have Betsy to look after you – and you will need her soon.'

             
Betsy was the maid he had engaged to look after her and the house, a nice, pleasant girl who seemed to find nothing odd in the situation between her mistress and master.

             
'You are so good to me,' Arabella said and kissed him on the lips.  'It is a lovely little home for us.'

             
'Well…I may not be here often,' he told her, his gaze sliding away from her bright eyes.  'My work is in the gaming clubs and I must stay late to be sure of winning.  I cannot come all the way out here afterwards.  And you will be comfortable here with your maid to care for you.'

             
'Not here…' She swallowed the cry of protest that rose to her lips.  She knew that he was beginning to find her unattractive, that he thought her body ugly and ungainly.  'You will visit sometimes?'

             
'Of course.  I shan't abandon you, Bella.  I want to see my son sometimes, and I'll look after you.'  He smiled at her, feeling a return of the affection he had had for her.  'But I must win money for all of us.'

             
Arabella's spirits lifted as he kissed her.  She would not look ugly and awkward forever.  Harry would love her again after the child was born, and if she gave him the son he insisted she was carrying, he might marry her.

             
She had ceased to ask when they were to be married now; it merely served to make him look sullen and she knew that if she pushed him too far he might walk away.  Her illusions had faded, and she knew him for the selfish, careless man he was, but she still loved him.  And sometimes they were happy together.

             
'This is for you and the baby,' Harry said, giving her a little pouch of soft leather.  'Fifty guineas… take care of it, Bella.  I was lucky last night, but you know that I may lose one day.'

             
Was that guilt or fear in his eyes?  Arabella wasn't sure, but she sensed he was uneasy.

             
'Is something wrong, Harry?'

             
'No, of course not – why should anything be wrong?'  He avoided her gaze.  He had met some men he knew the previous evening, and it could only be a matter of time before Roxbourne learned he was in town.  He drew Arabella towards him, kissing her on the lips.  At least he had taken her from the marquis -–nothing and no one could deny that.  'I have to go now.  I'm not sure when I'll be back, take care of yourself and my son.'

             
Arabella clung to him as he kissed her, her throat tight, stomach churning with emotion, but she did not weep or beg him to stay.  It would only annoy him.  She must pray that he came back to her when he was ready.

             
'I shall be thinking of you.'

             
'I'll be back.'  Harry grinned at her in his old, confident way.  'You can't lose a bad penny, Bella.  You haven't seen the last of me yet.'

             
She nodded but could not speak, letting him go as he pulled away from her.  Something inside was telling her that her dream was over, but she would not listen to the devil that tormented her when Harry was away from her.  He would come back – he had promised.

             
But he had promised to marry her…

'You say Sylvester was gaming at the
Black Hood
two nights ago?'  Gervase looked hard at the man who had brought him the information he had sought so long.  'That is one of the worst gaming hells in London – only fools and knaves play there.'

             
'Yet it attracts foolish young gentlemen who think it is clever to go somewhere their friends dare not,' the agent replied.  'It is known that more than one gentleman has lost his fortune at the tables there – and his life in one case we both know of.'

             
'Yes, you are right.'  Gervase nodded, a grim smile on his mouth.  'So he has been forced to come back and show himself at last.  You have been keeping a watch there for him?'

             
'Yes, of course, my lord.  He was followed last night to an inn nearby.'

             
'And the lady?'

             
'Not there, sir.'  Agent Rossiter shook his head.  'Lord Sylvester was alone at the inn.  The lady you seek has not been seen there.'

             
'Keep watching and following him,' Gervase instructed.  'The moment anyone thinks they have found her I am to be informed.'

             
'Yes, of course, sir.  My men all have their instructions.'

             
'You have done well to find him,' Gervase said.  'Thank you.'  He handed the agent a purse of gold.  'Five hundred guineas to the man who finds her on top of your fee.'

             
'That is generous, my lord.  We'll scour every inn in London.  She will be found.  I give you my word.'

             
Gervase nodded, dismissing him.  He had hoped that when they found Sylvester they would also find Arabella, but his worst nightmare was that she was lost – either ill or dead.

             
By God!  Sylvester would pay if she had suffered because of his carelessness.  He would give him a week or two, allow him to lead them to Arabella if he would and then…

Harry looked uneasily over his shoulder.  He had felt that he was being followed these past few days, but he wasn't sure who was behind it.  He had fleeced more than one foolish young man at the tables and there was always the possibility that one of them might try to take his revenge in a dark alley.

              It might be that his creditors had got wind of his being in town.  Harry knew that he had been recognised by men who would once have invited him to their homes.  Which meant that he might have to leave town in a hurry.

             
He would not be taking Arabella with him.  She was well into her eight month of pregnancy now.  He had not been to visit her since he'd given her the fifty guineas.  A part of him felt guilty, but there was no point in dwelling on it.  She had come with him of her own free will, and he was not prepared to drag a woman who might give birth at any moment all over the country.  She would slow him down, hamper his decisions.

             
Harry shuddered at the thought of being responsible for a child.  He might have to move fast, and he was not sure where to go next.  If he visited one of the more fashionable Spas it would once again be only a matter of time before he was recognised.

             
He had only two choices, he realised.  Go abroad or… He glanced over his shoulder once more as two large men came towards him out of the gloom.  Fear clutched at his guts and he started to run.

             
'Come back, sir!' one of the men shouted.  'You can't get away.  I have a warrant for your arrest…'

             
He had delayed his departure too long!  He should have left town the instant he saw those friends of Roxbourne at the hell.

He turned and fled down the nearest alley, hoping to reach the river and perhaps evade his pursuers, but even as he thought he might be getting away from them, two more burly figures stepped out to confront him.

              Harry put up a fight, punching and struggling as they grabbed him, trying his best to get away again, but the others had caught up to them and he was surrounded, outnumbered.

             
'Come along, sir.  There's no point in resisting and causing more trouble for yourself.  Debts are one thing – don't make it a hanging matter.'             

             
Harry gave up.  In the Fleet he would live as well as he could afford to.  If he could get food and wine sent in he would be able to survive until he could find a way of settling his debts.

             
Roxbourne could whistle for his money.  It was the money he owed to various tradesmen that must be found.  Roxbourne would never press for payment of a gambling debt – it wasn't the thing – and the marquis was too proud to soil his hands with such a sordid matter.

             
No, if he could but find a way of paying his other creditors, he would be in the clear, though he might still not be able to retake his place in society.  For a moment he regretted the fifty guineas he had given Arabella, but it was a mere drop in the ocean.  He would send word for she might help him with money for food, but if he hoped for release he must look elsewhere…

Harry had been arrested for debt and was in prison.  The pain of it swept over her, making her feel dizzy and ill.  It had been two weeks before the news of his imprisonment finally reached her, and she had been at her wits end, wondering if she would ever see him again.

             
Arabella read the letter through again, before laying it on the table beside her.  Harry had written in terms of endearment, apologising for what he had brought her to and telling her that he had been afraid of ending like this, and for this reason alone had decided to cut the ties with her.

             
For if my creditors knew of your existence they might try to obtain payment of debts from you, Bella.  You must not trouble yourself over me, for I know your time is near.  Think only of yourself and the child and forget me.  Your loving Harry…whom you should never have loved.

             
Arabella wept bitter tears over his letter.  Her poor dear Harry was in prison for debt and the last thing he had done was to take a house for her and give her fifty guineas.  His letter convinced her that he loved her and that she had been both wicked and cruel to doubt him.  Loneliness had made her almost regret ever having loved him, but now her faith was renewed and all she could think of was his suffering, her own misery of the past few weeks forgotten.