Chapter 17 #2
“Well, well,” Ralph said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll wish you a good night. Jeb will send Effie up as soon as she arrives with your dinner.”
“Thank you so much,” Caroline said with a ready smile from the armchair. “Good night, Mr. Carstairs, Jebediah.”
“Oh, please call me Ralph!” Ralph protested as Jeb glowered.
“It’s just Jeb,” he growled. “No one calls me Jebediah except my ma.”
“Very well, good night, Ralph, good night, Jeb,” Caroline corrected herself, all smiles.
Gervaise had no idea why he was suddenly feeling out of sorts.
To distract himself, he carted his luggage through to the bedroom as Caroline played with the cats.
He had just started carrying his shirts to the top drawer when he heard a knock at the door.
He paused in his task to listen and make sure it was Jeb’s woman and not Jeb or Reg.
“You must be Effie,” he heard Caroline say and returned to his task. He would let Caroline deal with this one.
“That’s right, darlin’. And I ’ear your name’s Caroline. Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.”
“What have you there?” he heard Caroline ask over the rustling of paper.
“I’ve got you a veritable feast, and no mistake,” the other responded.
“This is a tub of ‘London particular,’ you know what that is?” she laughed and Gervaise guessed Caroline had replied in the negative.
“It’s pea soup, darlin! But this ain’t that watery swill wot you get from some places.
This is from Graysons, who put all the good stuff in.
It’s got ham and mint and celery as well as peas and this ’ere is a loaf of rye bread, baked fresh today to have wiv’ it.
“That’s your first course, and then I got you a nice steak and kidney pie to follow, and this package ’ere is a porringer of mash.
It’s good stuff, tasty, on account of how they put garlic in it from Timpson’s.
My Jeb swears it’s the best in town. And to finish I got you each a plum duff.
The pastry is just—mwah! On account of it’s from that posh patisserie in Bethnal Green.
Mr. Carstairs, he swears it’s the best he’s ever ’ad and ’e should know on account of ’is being the son of a baron. ”
“I look forward to trying it,” Caroline assured her.
“You’ll be feasting like kings tonight!” Effie predicted, and Gervaise waited for their farewells before emerging from the bedchamber.
Caroline looked up from the laden table. “Well, we certainly shan’t starve,” she said. “Effie seems nice and Ralph was quite right, she is stunning. I wonder that they did not think to ask her to model for their artist. Do you suppose we can give some of the steak from the pie to the kittens?”
They shared a tasty, if unusual meal. The bread and pastry was excellent and though Gervaise eschewed the pea soup, the rest of it was entirely palatable.
He watched Caroline as they ate. She started to look grave by the time they reached the sweet course, and he poured them both a glass of wine as she set down her knife and fork.
“I wonder if we might talk of something now we have finished eating,” she said, clearing her throat.
“I am entirely agreeable. What would you like to discuss?”
“A frank discussion of my prospects, if you please,” she said bravely.
“Why, of course, my dear Caroline.” He smiled urbanely.
“Nothing could be simpler.” Here it comes, he thought.
Either the demand he made an honest woman of her or her resigned acceptance of his offer.
Suddenly, it occurred to him that he was not sure which reply he would prefer.
How absurd. When he had made it clear mere hours ago that he would not have his hand forced into marriage!
She took a deep breath. “My lord, if I accept your offer, can I be assured you will make some long-term provision for me once you no longer require my services?” She twisted her hands together, her cheeks filling with color.
“I know you do not have any money to settle on me at the moment,” she said quickly, “and indeed it is hardly to be wondered at when one considers how much you must have sunk into this business venture. But after you have made a success of The Citadel, I mean.”
She bit her lip. “I will admit, I do not know much about being a…a kept woman,” she said in a rush, “but my understanding is that they sink lower and lower over time, hopping from one patron to another, as their keepers grow increasingly obscure until they finally lose their attractions altogether and end up in extreme poverty.” She sucked in a much-needed breath.
“I would like to avoid that fate, if at all possible.” She looked so bloody sincere that Gervaise did not know how to reply.
He cleared his throat. “I am sure none could blame you,” he replied gravely while his brain scrambled for a response.
He opened his mouth to ask just how big a lump sum she envisaged but instead found himself asking carefully, “You see yourself moving on from me to another…keeper?” Why did that stick in his craw so damn much he couldn’t even bring himself to consider the money angle?
“Well…I…I understand that is how it generally works,” she said, turning even redder.
“And, I do not have any other skills to fall back on.” Other skills, thought Gervaise.
Other skills? “I have no notion how else I could support myself in the future,” she carried on, quite oblivious to his reaction.
“Obviously I could never return to my family. Oh, not that I would want to anyway,” she assured him hurriedly, reaching across to touch his arm.
He glanced down at his sleeve, but she was already withdrawing her hand.
“But if you settled some money on me on the occasion of your abandonment, then I could perhaps train in some profession, or else have the time to sort myself out…” She shrugged helplessly.
By taking another keeper, Gervaise thought, looking at her rather hard.
It struck him with sudden unpleasant clarity that she would not struggle to find one.
“I see,” he said slowly, noticing her expectant air.
He had no notion what the fuck else to say.
She had well and truly knocked him for six.
He reached for his cigarette case to buy himself some time.
“Do you want some time to think it over?” she offered generously. “I will understand perfectly if so. I could sleep out here in this armchair with a blanket over my legs tonight and—”
“No,” he interrupted her. “No time is necessary. I will of course settle a sum on you in the event of our inevitable parting of ways. Such a request is entirely reasonable. How does four thousand pounds sound?”
Caroline gasped. “Four—?” She stared at him, her lips parted.
“A sum worth losing your virtue for, I hope.”
“Yes, my lord,” she spluttered. “I rather think it is.”