The Promise (19 page)

Even now he was smiling. ‘The crimps and their ilk have become so powerful that they think they can control the police and the courts through bribes. They mean to buy exemption from interference in their nefarious activities.’

‘And you intend to stop them?’ I dutifully asked, even as I doubted my husband could be motivated by anything so noble as honour or care for the community.

‘I very much doubt that is possible. In any case, if they are willing to hand over a portion of their substantial profits to ensure the authorities turn a blind eye to practices that would take place anyway, why should I not enjoy my share? Most councillors and city officials are involved.’

‘The dishonest ones, you mean.’ I flounced away from him, which was perhaps a mistake as he did seem to be obsessed with my bottom. I stifled a shudder as he smoothed a hand over my buttocks in that way I’d come to dread.

‘What a child you are, wife.’

‘But what you are doing isn’t fair,’ I argued, reaching for my nightgown. ‘Some of these businesses, the people whose votes you are buying with your own bribes, are honest folk and not crimps at all.’

He took the gown from me, and, tossing it aside, straddled me. ‘You really should not trouble your tiny female brain with matters which do not concern you.’

Pushing him away, I sat up, incensed by this put-down. ‘But where are they supposed to find the money to pay you if not by exploiting their own tenants, the poor? And
if sailors are overcharged for their lodgings, or robbed blind and turned out on to the street, how would they survive?’

Kemp was laughing now, highly amused by my concern. ‘Why would I care? They can always go back to sea.’

I flounced out of bed and went in search of my nightgown, thinking of Ellis, wondering where he was living and what kind of life he had. If he still thought of me. Slipping the silk gown on, I remembered the time dearest Prudence was kidnapped and he’d helped rescue her, a perfect stranger, despite risk to himself. I turned on my husband, defiant. ‘And if young girls or boys are pressed into servitude in brothels, or on board ship, what will you, as mayor, do to help them?’

‘What can I do?’ he drawled. ‘As a man of the world I know these things happen.’

I was appalled by this casual dismissal of what was surely a major problem. Yet why would I have imagined any other reply? If he cared not a jot for his own wife’s feelings, why would he consider the welfare of those he chose to defraud of their money? Drew Kemp may well be a man of power and influence, but he was interested only in using those advantages for his own ends.

I wanted to march off in high dudgeon, to run from him, from this house, to get as far away from him as humanly impossible. But he was already pulling me back into bed, stripping off my nightgown, and, as I well knew, there was really nowhere for me to run to.

While I might yearn for another man, I was in every respect the good and obedient wife, prudent in my spending and dutiful in my habits. My husband’s dinner was always ready at the appointed hour. I supervised the provision of his clean laundry, or at least the servants tolerated my interference with commendable patience. For what did I, a young girl of eighteen from a sheltered background, know of such things as the operation of Chinese laundries, or the proper ordering of dry goods for the kitchen larder?

So far as my everyday social life was concerned, my sister had been right. I did indeed enjoy a certain degree of freedom. There were regular balls, social functions and dinner parties I must attend, and no limit to the number of gowns I might purchase to wear at them. The opera too was ever a favourite with Kemp, and I was expected to entertain my husband’s guests, to act as hostess at his dinner parties, or to at least wait upon them with wafers, wine and ready smiles should he invite his friends round for a game of cards of an evening.

I did whatever he asked of me, without complaint, and then escaped into a world of my own: my favourite books and needlework, my little outings. Sometimes, I even wrote letters to my darling Ellis, although as I had no address to send them to, and was fearful of them being discovered by my husband, I would then have to burn them on the fire, tears rolling down my cheeks as the paper curled and scorched. If only I could see him one more time.

Then one day in the new year, as Maura and I walked
in the Golden Gate Park as we did on most afternoons, I rounded the pagoda in the Japanese Gardens, and there he was. It was as if he had been waiting for me, as if he had known that I would come. Ellis swept me up into his arms and kissed me just as if it had only been yesterday that he last saw me, and not in those soft days of summer nearly five months ago.

How difficult it was to tell Ellis that I was a married woman now, and see the devastation and dismay in his face. Briefly, I described how it had come about. He held my hands and it felt so wonderful, so warm and comforting, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. He looked tired, I thought, older, and I wondered what had brought those lines of fatigue to his dear face. I longed to hold him in my arms, but dared not, determined to keep a firm check on my emotions. I set Maura to keep watch while we sat together on the grassy sward.

‘I understand now why I was locked up.’

I stared at him in horror. ‘Locked up? Do you mean in jail?’

‘In Broadway Jail. It’s in the Tenderloin district, the worst part of town, and the most evil-smelling hellhole you could imagine. I knew that the order for my arrest
had come from Kemp, but didn’t understand in what way I could possibly have offended such a powerful man. Now I can see why, very clearly. He must have heard about our feelings for each other, and got me out of the way by having me thrown in the clink.’

‘Oh, Ellis.’ I wanted to say that my husband would never do such a thing, but how could I when I knew only too well that Drew Kemp was capable of anything? He certainly wouldn’t baulk at disposing of a rival who was in his way.

Ellis dismissed my cry of dismay with a shrug. ‘After several days of unexplained incarceration in a dank cell, I was manacled and shipped out on an eastward-bound clipper. I’ve spent the last several months desperately trying to escape the bilges and work my way west.’

‘But who told him about us?’

‘Maybe Prudence mentioned seeing me at the Seamen’s Institute, without even realising he would put two and two together.’

‘That makes sense, she’s such a scatterbrain. Oh, Ellis, but we’ve lost all chance of happiness as a result.’ I was crying now, tears rolling down my cheeks and he tenderly mopped them up with a big blue hanky. I cried partly out of despair and disappointment, but also because I’d been right all along. Ellis did still love me, had never stopped loving me, through all these long lonely months. ‘If only I could have held on and waited for you. Sadly, I wasn’t given the chance. I tried to resist but it was quite impossible. There were financial difficulties for my family. They too would have been destroyed.’

Ellis lovingly tucked a curl behind my ear as he kissed it. ‘Don’t fret, my love, I do understand that you didn’t deliberately betray me. And the fact you are married doesn’t make the slightest difference to my feelings. I still love you and always will. Perhaps our time hasn’t come yet. I’m not going to give up, not ever.’

‘No, Ellis, it’s too late for us now. I can’t ever see you again. It would be far too dangerous. I am striving to be a good wife to him, and at least I have Maura, thank heaven.’ I could see my little Irish maid was growing fidgety at her post, stationed by the tiny bridge that led over the pond, as we’d talked for so long. I said nothing to Ellis of my wedding night, of the rape Kemp had subjected me to, or the beatings since. Where was the point in making his pain worse, or risking retaliation between the two men? Even now his blue eyes sparked, whether from anger or loss I didn’t dare to consider.

‘May I have one last kiss?’ he asked, but I shook my head.

‘No, my darling, one kiss would not be enough, and yet too many.’ He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed that instead. ‘Please don’t,’ I groaned, snatching it away. ‘Please go now. Just walk away. I shall sit here on the grass until you are gone.’

‘If that is what you wish, but I swear I will never give up waiting for you, Georgia. I promise I shall be here every Wednesday afternoon at two, just as I always was. And if I have to go to sea for a while, don’t give up on me but keep on coming, then we’ll always meet up again, one day, as soon as I’m back in port. You will remember that, my love, will you not?’

He was on his feet now and I was kissing his fingers, clasping his cold hands tightly between my own, wanting to hold on to him even as I urged him to leave. ‘I will remember. But you must take care not to let my husband realise you’re back in town. It would be much safer if you found yourself another berth immediately, sail to somewhere far away from here, where there is no likelihood of Kemp ever finding you and putting you back in jail.’

‘I’m staying in Frisco for as long as I can afford to, but I promise to take care, for your safety rather than mine. We must keep the faith that one day we can be together.’

‘Farewell, my love, and go safely.’

Then I buried my face in my hands and did not look up until I felt Maura’s arms come about me in a big warm hug. Knowing then that he had gone, I turned my face into her neck and wept as if my heart would break.

Since moving to Nob Hill, Maura had become my very dear friend. It didn’t matter that she was a little jealous of me. I’d always been aware of this trait in her. At Geary Boulevard I’d been amused when I discovered she was secretly trying on my gowns, or borrowing a scarf or hat. After my marriage I’d gladly lent her gowns to wear as she now seemed more of a companion than a maid, and therefore should be more suitably dressed. I knew she was desperate to better herself and was at first flattered when she began to imitate my style, my manner of speech and brisk way of walking, even picking up and repeating my pet hates and favourite topics of conversation.

One cold afternoon in early March I was looking for my fox fur tippet. Prue and I were going to the theatre to see
Boccaccio
, a popular Viennese operetta, but I couldn’t find the fur in my wardrobe. Guessing that Maura might have borrowed it, since the weather had been particularly chilly lately and she’d developed this increasing appetite to emulate my style, I tugged on the bell pull to call her. When, after some moments, she still hadn’t come running as she usually did, I surmised she must be out running errands for the housekeeper.

‘No doubt it is in her room,’ I said to myself as I started up the flight of stairs that led to the servants’ quarters. Hurrying along the top landing I tapped only once on her door before pushing it open, quite certain she was out.

But she was not out. She was in bed, with my husband on top of her.

I stood transfixed, staring in shock at their writhing grunting bodies as he pounded into her. I could not believe what I was witnessing, and then it came to me that Maura was being violated. Kemp was doing to her what he had done to me. I was outraged, overcome by anger. ‘What the hell are you doing to her?’ I cried.

My horrified shout made both of them jump but Maura was the one to move first. Wriggling from beneath him, she dived for her dressing gown that hung over the bed rail. Kemp simply swivelled about and grinned up at me.

‘It’s not your turn today, wife. Unless you’d care to join in?’

Spinning on my heels, I ran, skittering down the stairs so fast I almost fell over my own feet. I did not stop until I
gained the privacy of my bedroom and slammed shut the door. Leaning against it to catch my breath, it was only then that I properly recalled Maura’s expression when I’d interrupted them. She was not screaming, nor even silently crying in agony, the look on her face had been one of complete ecstasy.

She came to me within minutes, contrite, and yet oddly triumphant. Bobbing a curtsey she cast a sideways glance up at me. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, that you should find out like this. I should’ve told you meself, only I thought mebbe you’d guessed since he wasn’t troubling you as much as he used to.’

Her words made me stop and think, and it dawned on me in that moment that it was true. My husband had not ordered me upstairs, nor kept me awake half the night with his attentions quite so often of late. Nevertheless, I stared at Maura, stunned. ‘Are you saying that you were a willing participant? But what of your fancy for John, our driver at Geary Boulevard?’

A sorrowful expression washed over her face at this. ‘I rarely see him now, do I, save when we pay a call? I think he’s forgotten me. Anyway, Mr Kemp is a hard man to refuse.’

‘I confess you did not look as if you were protesting just now.’

She gave a little smirk, a secret smile in her hazel eyes. ‘Mebbe I don’t have your sensitivities, ma’am, but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest – him wanting to have his way with me, I mean. Not that I had much say in the
matter. Anyway, if it keeps him away from you …’

She let the sentence hang unfinished, as if implying she was doing me a favour by sleeping with my husband. Perhaps she was. I certainly didn’t want him in my bed any more than was absolutely necessary.

I sat down, rather abruptly, on my dressing stool. My mind was in turmoil, not quite able to take in the full implications of what had occurred, or how it might change my relationship, both with Kemp and with my maid. ‘This is a dangerous path you tread, Maura. He is not an easy man, or a considerate one. You are making yourself exceedingly vulnerable in letting him use you in this way.’

‘I really don’t mind,’ she said, with an almost stubborn lift to her chin. ‘That is, if you don’t, ma’am. If you don’t think it above my status, as it were.’

So there was the challenge. If I accepted the situation, my little Irish maid would consider her position to have risen to that of mistress to the master of the house. What difference would that make to her and me? I had no idea. Yet if I protested, I would lay myself open not only to the kind of attentions I did not relish from my husband, but also his censure. He was not a man who cared to have his behaviour curbed by a jealous wife. In any case, I was not jealous. Not in the slightest. It would not bother me in the least if my husband never visited my bed again, in fact I would welcome such an outcome.

‘Ma’am?’ Maura was still waiting for my answer, an appeal in her hooded eyes which seemed partly fearful and yet strangely knowing. She’d probably guessed my reaction already.

It came to me then how much I depended on her, how she could almost read my thoughts, how she understood my feelings, succoured and cared for me when I was down or depressed. I had made few friends thus far in this part of town, and the servants were too scared of their master to exchange anything more than a few essential ‘thank yous’ and ‘yes ma’ams’ with me. I couldn’t bear to consider how lonely life would be in this house without her, even more confined than I was already, as Kemp would never allow me outdoors alone. I could hire another maid, of course, but she would be a stranger to me, and who’s to say Kemp wouldn’t bed her too?

‘I think, Maura, we will say no more about this matter. We must each do what we must, I can see that. But I want you to know that while I greatly appreciate your concern for me, I can take care of myself. I am willing to do my duty as his wife, whether I like it or not, and you must never think to sacrifice your own happiness on my behalf. Is that understood?’

She was smiling now, although I still felt uneasy at her tranquil acceptance of the situation. ‘Perfectly, ma’am.’

The subject was never mentioned between us again, nor did I risk venturing to the top landing, even though many more of my personal belongings unaccountably vanished from my wardrobe.

Very gradually, almost without my realising it, Maura took over the running of the household. She issued orders to the servants, insisting these came directly from the master
and it was to Maura they went now for instructions, not to me. Sometimes I thought they were laughing at me behind their hands, no doubt highly amused by this shift in power between my Irish maid and myself.

Maura no longer ate in the kitchen with the other staff, but in the dining room at the table with Kemp and myself. She would simper and laugh at my husband’s bad jokes, feed him tidbits from her plate, and openly kiss him in front of me. She would always appear utterly fascinated by his conversation, their heads together as they talked and laughed, while I sat mute and ignored. Sometimes, I would walk into the drawing room and find her sitting in my chair, reading my book, or stitching at my needlework. And she borrowed not only my gowns, shoes, bags and trinkets without even troubling to ask my permission, but also the barouche, should she wish to go into town for supplies. Even asked for a little pocket money from time to time, in addition to her regular wages.

No longer did my obedient little maid come running whenever I tugged the bell pull. She was generally there with my hot water of a morning and evening when I needed it, to brush my hair and help me dress, but then she would vanish for hours at a time. And I did not dare to ask where she went, or how she spent those hours away from my side.

She behaved, in fact, exactly as she pleased, as if she were mistress of the house as well as my husband.

There were benefits, of course. Kemp came less often to my bed, although still far more frequently than I would have wished. He rarely stayed long, and never for an entire
night. Once he’d done the necessary duty, he swiftly rose from my bed, donned his dressing gown, or dressed in his street clothes if it was daytime, and quickly departed.

‘Why do you even bother to come?’ I asked him on one occasion as he strode to the door, having spent less time servicing his wife than he would grooming his horse.

He paused, his hand on the door knob. ‘I come for one purpose only, as you well know. Once you have provided me with a son, your task will be done, and you can go to hell in a handcart after that, for all I care.’

The result was that I began to feel oddly sidelined by all of this change, and lonelier than ever, which in turn made me long for Ellis more and more. But, fearful that I would be unable to resist him were we to meet again, I began to stay away from the park. Not that Maura was quite so available to come with me on my afternoon strolls as before, or accompany me on my visits to Prudence and Mama. She seemed to have developed a life of her own, one that was entirely private and beyond my control, while I felt increasingly trapped, almost living the life of a recluse.

One day she walked into my bedroom without even knocking. I looked up from the book I was reading, rather startled by her sudden entrance, and slightly irritated by it. Was I to be allowed no privacy? But I sensed at once that something was wrong as the self-satisfied look she normally wore these days had quite gone from her face.