Down Weaver's Lane (19 page)

A maid gave him a message from George and summoned the lad who had been waiting to guide him to where the girl was waiting. Eagerness throbbed through Marcus as he strode along. He was looking forward very much to mastering Emmy Carter and satisfying his needs with her. If she learned to please him, he would set her up as his mistress - until he tired of her, as one always did.

He was taken to a cottage on the outskirts of town, a small building standing on its own. There was a lamp hanging on a hook outside the door.

‘This is it,’ said the lad, accepting a sixpenny piece with a grin that showed crooked teeth which even the moonlight could not whiten. He strolled off, whistling tunelessly.

Marcus rapped on the door. ‘Is she here?’ he asked when George opened it, unable to contain his eagerness.

‘Aye. But there’s a bit of a problem.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s not willing. I had to tie her up to get her here.’

Marcus found that thought piquant. Very. ‘But no one knows? She didn’t make a public fuss?’

‘Nay, I soon shut her up. No one knows but us and her mother.’

‘That’s even better. I prefer the unwilling ones, actually. They’re so much more satisfying to subdue.’

George frowned at him. He’d heard that tone before and distrusted it. ‘We’d better get summat straight, then. If you harm her in any way, you’ll have me to answer to.’

Marcus scowled at him. ‘What concern is that of yours, fellow?’

‘It’s very much my concern. That lass is one of my girls now an’ I look after my own. I mean it. If you mark or damage her in any way, I’ll not only make you sorry you were born, I’ll do to you exactly what you’ve done to her. Exactly.’ He watched with satisfaction as Marcus shivered. ‘And think on! You may be rich, but you can’t watch your back every minute of the day and night.’

There was a moment’s complete silence. Marcus was furious that a low fellow like this should speak to him in such an impudent manner, but he was also intimidated by George, who was a very large man with big fists and a battered face that said he’d been in a lot of fights. ‘Why should I want to damage her?’ he asked lightly. ‘If I’m to take her under my protection I want her to keep her looks.’

Relieved, George clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Well, if you want her in your keeping, you’ll have to deal with me. I’m her protector now. I’ve got ambitions for my girls. A fancy whorehouse in Manchester, mebbe.’

Marcus was disappointed by the restrictions, but decided it was probably for the best. In the past he’d been a bit careless and lucky to get away with it. It had cost him quite a bit to pay off the last girl’s relatives for her injuries.

George jerked his head upwards. ‘She’s waiting for you in the front bedroom. I left her tied up. Thought you’d like to untie her yourself. Or not.’

With a smile Marcus moved towards the narrow stairs only to be halted by a large hand clamping down on his shoulder.

‘Just a minute, Armistead. I’ll have the money first.’

‘You’ll have it when I’m satisfied.’

George dragged him back to the door. ‘Now! Ten guineas I was promised for first go at her and you don’t lay a finger on her without paying me. I know she’s a virgin and you’re not going to claim owt else after you’ve had your fun.’

‘Oh, very well.’ Marcus fumbled in his pocket and counted out the coins impatiently.

‘Right then. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check everything’s all right.’

In the lane George paused for a moment, wondering whether he should stay around to make sure things went to plan. He’d didn’t really like forcing a lass, but he was sure Emmy would change her mind in the morning when he gave her a guinea - no, two - for her trouble. As he hesitated it started to drizzle so he moved on, shrugging. Let Armistead have his privacy. He had, after all, paid handsomely for the privilege. A few bruises never did anyone any harm. It was the way lessons were usually learned in this life.

 

Tied to the bed, Emmy heard voices below her but could not make out the words, only the rumble of George’s deep voice and the thin, drawling sound of Marcus Armistead’s lighter tones. She could not hold back a moan of terror when footsteps sounded on the stairs. Until now she had clung to the hope that there might be a chance to escape, or even that something might prevent Marcus from coming. But the last hope died in her as he reached the top of the stairs and stopped in the doorway to study her.

He smiled, a narrow, cat-like smile which looked strange on a man’s face. ‘That’s how I like to see a woman: helpless and ready for me to please myself with.’

She summoned up all her courage. She had to persuade him to loosen her bonds. Allowing her voice to tremble as he started to walk towards the bed, Emmy begged, ‘Oh, please, sir, don’t hurt me! I’ll do as you want if only you won’t hurt me.’

Not even attempting to reply, he continued to smile as he shed his coat, then began to unfasten his waistcoat.

She knew what men looked like only too well, because few of them troubled to hide their need from a child, so the sight of him did not shock her. But the thought of him touching her made her want to be sick.

Breathing heavily, he leaned over her. ‘Have you ever had a man before? I warn you, I shall find out. There’s no hiding such a thing.’

She shook her head and tried to look as helpless and frightened as possible, but anger was simmering behind the fear. That someone should do this - and enjoy it! ‘No, sir,’ she whispered. ‘My mother was saving me for someone special.’

‘Then why did you fight me?’

‘I’m afraid, sir. Some of the men - they hurt my mother.’

When he smiled she knew he meant to hurt her, too, and tried to hide an involuntary shudder.

He took off everything except his shirt, then ran his hands over her body.

She tried to twist away from him.

‘I’m going to untie your legs, Emmy. Don’t try to resist me because that’ll make me angry. If you even try, I’ll hurt you.’

She let out a long shuddering sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and stared straight at him. ‘If I do as you wish - in everything - will you pay me well?’

He gave a scornful snort as he realised she was no different from the others. ‘Yes.’

‘Will you set me up in my own rooms? Not let other men come near me?’

‘If you please me, yes.’ A heady sense of power filled him. This was the way to treat them. Keep them submissive, make them tremble. He hadn’t set up a woman as his mistress before, but the thought of having one who depended on him for everything, whom no other man had ever touched or ever would touch, pleased him so much he felt a renewed surge of passion. ‘If you really are a virgin,’ he warned.

‘Oh, I am, sir, I am.’ Emmy swallowed and said, ‘All right. I’ll be good, sir.’ She kept still as his hands roamed over her body because she could do nothing unless he untied her hands. She hadn’t counted on how free he’d make with her, or that he would actually tear off her shift. She could not help whimpering once or twice, but strangely he seemed to like that. Lying still beneath his loathsome touch was the hardest thing she’d ever done in a life where hardship was a frequent bedfellow. To her surprise it took a long time for him to be ready, far longer than was usual with her mother’s customers.

‘That’s a good girl,’ he said softly, touching and tweaking at her body, smiling as she cried out involuntarily at a particularly sharp pain. ‘Very well. I’ll untie your arms now and see how you keep your promise to behave yourself.’

As he untied her, she cried out as if her limbs would not work, though George had given her time to move them a bit before tying her to the bed head. She pretended to rub her arms. ‘Pins and needles, sir. Sorry. Ow!’ Lowering her eyes, she estimated distances and then grabbed the pewter candlestick she’d decided on from the chest of drawers beside the bed and smashed it against the side of his head. As he cried out, she brought it down again, twice more. It was heavy and after the third blow he did not move but lay sprawled across her on the bed with blood flowing copiously from the wounds she had made on his scalp.

Knowing she had no time to waste, she shoved his plump white body away, not dressing herself until she had tied him up with the same strips of cloth that had bound her. ‘See how you like it for a change,’ she muttered.

By the time she had finished he was groaning and his eyelids were fluttering, so she snatched her clothes from the floor and flung on her skirt and torn bodice hastily, clutching the other things to her chest as she moved to leave.

Just as she got to the door his voice rang out, sharp and high with anger. ‘You little bitch! You’ll pay for that.’ He began to struggle.

She turned to shout, ‘You’re wicked, you are!
Wicked!’
Then ran down the stairs, praying that George was not waiting outside.

No one stopped her as she half fell through the door and began to stumble down the lane. Once she fell over and winded herself, but dragged herself to her feet and carried on, desperate to get as far away from here as she could.

Suddenly she sobbed in relief. She was at her own end of the town, just a little beyond the bottom of Weavers Lane. She wondered if she dare risk getting some of her possessions from the cottage, then realised she’d have to, because her money was there, still hidden in the lining of the frayed travelling bag Mrs Tibby had given her. Without that she’d have little chance of escaping.

When she bumped into a warm body at the dark corner where the track opened into Weavers Lane, she screamed in shock and terror, thinking that George had caught her.

In the darkness at the corner of Weavers Lane a voice exclaimed, ‘Emmy? It is Emmy Carter, isn’t it? I thought you’d left Northby.’

With a sob of relief she clutched Jack Staley. ‘I got away from him. Oh, Jack, can you help me? Please. I have to hide somewhere. They’ll be looking for me.’

It was so wonderful to have her in his arms that for a moment Jack could not speak. For once, just this once, he dared to lay his cheek against her hair. Then her words sank in and he became aware that she was only lightly clad on this frosty night and was trembling uncontrollably. ‘What’s happened? Has someone hurt you?’ If so, he would find them and punish them.

Emmy forced herself to move away from him, though she longed to stay in his arms. ‘I’ll tell you later. I have to hurry, they’ll be after me. I need to get my things from the cottage and then find somewhere to hide.’

‘I’ll help you in any way I can, of course I will.’ He fell into step beside her, not pressing for an explanation but determined not to leave her until he was sure she was safe. It galled him that he daren’t take her home but he could guess what his mother would say if he did.

At the cottage Emmy stopped for a moment to get her breath, feeling upset to see it looking so dark and abandoned. Then, as someone walked briskly down Weavers Lane towards them, she gasped and clutched Jack. ‘They mustn’t recognise me.’

‘They’ll think it strange if we run into an empty cottage. Pretend we’re kissing. If we look like a courting couple, I can keep most of you hidden.’ He took her in his arms and bent over her. He didn’t mean it to happen but somehow the pretence became reality. As his lips met hers, cool with the night air, he groaned in his throat and wrapped his arms more closely around her, kissing her tenderly, showing her how much he loved her.

Emmy nestled instinctively against him. The touch of this man seemed so clean and normal, it was as if his gentle kiss began to wipe away the dirty feeling of Marcus Armistead on her skin and that other equally dreadful feeling that, like her mother, she was soiled now for Marcus had touched her in places only a husband should see.

The man strolled past, laughing softly and calling out, ‘Eh, you young lovers!’

Once his footsteps had faded they drew apart, staring at one another shyly in the light of the street lamp, then she took his hand and led the way round to the back of the cottage without a word. Even his hand felt good in hers, warm and strong but not holding on too tightly, so that she could remove hers any time she wished. Only she didn’t wish to do that. What she really wanted was to stay beside him for ever.

For a moment joy flared through her as she realised how much she loved him. Despair swiftly followed. She couldn’t stay with him. She understood his situation and knew only too well how any mother would regard the daughter of Madge Carter.

But it was hard to let go of Jack. Very hard.

Bending, she retrieved the back door key from under a stone. She couldn’t turn it in the lock because her hands had begun to tremble so stood there, teeth chattering, and let him take the key from her.

When he had opened the door, he waited for her to lead the way in, but she could not move as reaction hit her. While she had been escaping she had pushed it aside. While Jack had been holding her she had felt safe. Now the memories of what had happened flooded through her in a dark wave of shame and misery.