Silk and Shadows (39 page)

"Agreed." He lay back on the pillows, and pulled her on top of him for a more serious kiss. As the embrace began to develop into another energy-balancing session, he knew that he was a fortunate man to have a wife with the sense to know what things were none of her business.

Charles Weldon had several offices, but these days he spent most of his time at the L & S Railway. As managing director, he had to make decisions about everything from finance to the design of the railway carriages being built in Yorkshire.

The company secretary had learned to have a pot of tea and a newspaper waiting for him in the morning, and as he drank his tea, Weldon skimmed the headlines to see what was happening in the world. He usually skipped the society notices, but this morning his eye was caught by the word "Haddonfield," so he stopped and read the brief announcement. Lady Sara St. James, daughter of the Duke of Haddonfield, had three days previously married Prince Peregrine of Kafiristan.

Weldon's lip curled when he read it. They certainly hadn't wasted any time; he wondered if the silly bitch was pregnant. Well, the two had better be enjoying their honeymoon, because their time together was going to be limited.

Laying the paper aside, he began reading through the morning post. It was midday when the bad news was delivered by his personal secretary, Kane.

A man of few words, Kane had dropped uninvited into a chair and said tersely, "Trouble."

Weldon leaned back in his oak swivel chair. "What kind of trouble?"

"Remember you sent me to Hampshire with the right-of-way papers for that farmer, Crawley, to sign?"

"Of course—we're going to be starting construction there in a few days. What's the matter, is he still trying to get more money? The oaf should realize that he's lucky to get anything."

"Don't know what he thinks—Crawley and his family have vanished, bag, baggage, and livestock. I talked to some of the neighbors. Seems the Crawleys just up and left a few weeks ago. Didn't say where they were going or when they'd get back."

Weldon's face twisted into a scowl as he considered the implications. "Did Crawley sell the farm to someone else?"

"Doesn't seem to have."

Weldon bit his lower lip, thinking that there was something unnatural about the business, for Crawley certainly didn't have the money to go off and start again elsewhere. Perhaps the farmer had panicked and run?

After a minute's thought, he shrugged; Crawley's disappearance wouldn't make any difference to the railway. "We'll go ahead and start laying rail across the farm anyhow. Crawley isn't around to object, and no one else will know that we haven't gotten the correct authorizations. If he comes back, we make him sign, only maybe then he won't get any money at all for the privilege of being part of the L & S route."

Dismissing Kane, he returned to work. Crawley's cowardly flight was a minor nuisance, no more.

Mikahl had left early to go into London on business, so Sara slept late, then rose for a leisurely bath. Since he would be gone all day, she was going to ride to Chapelgate and lunch with her cousin. After a fortnight of honeymoon solitude, she supposed that it was time to remember that the rest of the world existed. Then, after Mikahl had been gone for a whole ten hours, she would have the pleasure of welcoming him home.

Sara knew that she had an absurd, dreamy smile on her face, but didn't care. She was hopelessly, passionately in love, and marriage was wonderful. Admittedly there were many things she didn't know about her husband, and he had never said that he loved her. But deeds were more important than words, and his actions could not have been more tender or loving. Mikahl liked to touch, and did so with a freedom seldom seen in an Englishman. In spite of her occasional blushes, Sara loved his demonstrative nature and responded like a flower opening to the sun.

Though she knew that her present joy could not continue forever, she refused to worry about that. No matter how much pain her marriage might bring in the future, this fortnight of loving was worth any price she might have to pay. And there should still be weeks or months of happiness to come; if she was very lucky, years.

After her bath, Sara summoned Jenny to help her dress. As the maid braided her hair, Sara asked, "Now that you've had a chance to settle in, do you still like Sulgrave?"

"It's unholy quiet after London," the girl observed, "but the country is pretty, and the other servants couldn't be nicer."

Sara smiled. "We'll be going to London again in a few days. That should save you from falling into a bored melancholy."

"Very good, my lady," Jenny said demurely, her deft fingers coiling one of the braids over her mistress's left ear.

As Sara watched Jenny's elfin face, she could not help but think of the girl's sordid past. Years in a brothel, Mikahl had said. Sara had been shocked at the idea; now that she understood the profound intimacy of the marriage bed, she was even more shocked. The thought of strangers violating one's body, forcing what should be sacred, was appalling. If anything ever happened to Mikahl, Sara knew that she would never be able to share such intimacy with another man.

Impulsively speaking her thoughts, Sara asked, "Jenny, how did you survive those years in a brothel with your humor and sanity intact?"

Jenny's hand jerked, and the hairpins she had been holding dropped from her hand and skittered over Sara's shoulder to the floor. Dismayed, Sara turned swiftly and said, "Jenny, forgive me, I had no right to ask such a thing. I said when I hired you that you need never speak of the past again—please forget that I ever mentioned the topic."

The maid knelt on the floor to pick up the hairpins. When she straightened, she said in a voice that was almost normal, "It's not so bad that I can't talk about it, Lady Sara. I was mostly surprised that you asked."

Her movements precise, Jenny wound the other plait over Sara's right ear and pinned it in place. "I suppose I survived because in the East End, life is always hard, and if you expect the worst, you're never disappointed," she said reflectively. "Having my pa sell me to a brothel was bad, but worse things happened to some of the other girls I grew up with.

"The brothel was hardest for girls who'd been raised decent. Some went kind of crazy when they found out what was going to be done to them." Jenny's face darkened. "The walls were thick, but not thick enough. Of course, a lot of those girls were there just one night because it was a virgin house. For those of us who were there longer—well, you can get used to almost anything."

"What is a virgin house?" Sara asked, having a horrible feeling that she could guess.

The girl frowned. "This isn't a subject for a lady's ears. The prince won't like that I'm talking to you about such things."

"Dear God, Jenny, how can something that you had to
live
be too harsh for my delicate ears to
hear
!" Sara felt the same cold fury as when she had discovered that the orphanage children were being abused by those who should protect them. "Anyone born with fortune or influence has an obligation to use it to try to help others. I was active with charitable work in Haddonfield, and I intend to do the same here. While I don't know if I can do anything about the evils you suffered, if I am ignorant, I will not even be able to try."

Sara gestured for the maid to sit down. "If you can bear to talk about it, I want to know. Then perhaps someday I might be able to do some good."

After a moment of hesitation, Jenny sat down and summarized the operation of Mrs. Kent's house. The account turned Sara's stomach, but she listened with grim determination. At the end, she exclaimed passionately, "What kind of men can behave so to innocent girls?"

Jenny gave a cynical smile. "All kinds. I'll bet every penny I have, some of those fancy society gents who kiss your hand at balls are customers of Mrs. Kent's. Girls, boys, any ages and combinations that a man is willing to pay for."

"Boys?" Sara asked, not understanding what the maid meant.

Jenny looked uncomfortable. "You really don't want to know that, my lady. It's downright unnatural."

Sara's lips thinned. Turning away from unpleasant facts seemed a betrayal of innocent victims. "Tell me."

Jenny complied, her blunt words describing in detail what a grown man might do to a little boy.

Sara's hands clenched so tightly that her nails left deep crescents in her palms. When the maid was finished, Sara said in a strained voice, "How can such wickedness exist so flagrantly in the heart of the greatest city in the world?"

Though Sara's words had been more for herself than her maid, Jenny replied bitterly, "Laws are made by those with power, my lady. How many of those with power really care what happens to the poor? They're the wolves, and folks like me are the sheep."

Sara sighed. "You've learned hard wisdom, Jenny. But there are a few people with power who care about those less fortunate. I'm going to make it my business to find out who does care, and to contribute what I can."

The maid looked uneasy. "You won't be telling the prince what I said? He'd be powerful irritated with me."

"No, I won't tell him." Sara gave a twisted smile. "He's a man of the world—I doubt that there is anything either you or I could say about wickedness that would surprise him." And like most men, he probably accepted that evil would always be present, and that there was no point in wasting time fighting it. And who was she, who had been pampered all her life, to criticize Mikahl for not being outraged when he had had so much to endure? It was hardly surprising if his sensibilities had been blunted.

As Jenny completed Sara's toilette, Sara thought about what she had learned this morning. While she would have liked to ask Mikahl if anything could be done to close Mrs. Kent's house, she did not want to bring his wrath on Jenny. Better to wait and learn more about the subject before she talked to her husband.

Sara knew she could not save the world. There had always been prostitutes, and perhaps there always would be. But raping helpless children was not simple prostitution: it was an unspeakable crime, and Sara would do what she could to stop it.

As Sara made her way downstairs after dressing, the Sulgrave butler heard her footsteps and came out into the hall. Gates was a long-time Haddonfield employee who had asked permission to accompany Sara to her new home. Since Mikahl was willing, Sara had been grateful to accept Gates's offer.

"Good morning, my lady," the butler said with a deep bow. "Cook wishes to know what time to serve dinner tonight."