‘I am half sick of shadows,’ said The Lady of Shalott.
Cassie just hoped that by leaving her sanctuary and following her heart into the arms of her Lancelot the result would be much happier than the one in the poem.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
‘The curse is come upon me,’ cried
The Lady of Shalott.
The three scars from Lebansart’s blade burnt like hot ribbons of shame upon her breast.
* * *
After such a night Nathaniel was unable to sleep and so he sat at the desk in his office and worked on the case of the girls found near the river. Rearranging scraps of paper before him, he took away this one and replaced with that.
The list contained the names of every member of the Venus Club. The clues had to be here somewhere, he knew, the intuition that had served him so well in his years of working with the Service honed and on high alert.
Scrivener Weeks would be here somewhere hiding amongst the detail, he just had to find out where he was concealed. Removing each member who was neither tall nor dark, he was left with the names of fifteen men. Reginald Northrup’s name caught his attention, but so did the name of Christopher Hanley.
Another thought occurred. It was Hanley who had told the world that he had seen Cassandra in the environs of Whitechapel Road and Hanley who had been disparaging about the role of the Daughters of the Poor trying to save every wayward girl in London. Could the existence of Cassandra’s charity be threatening him in some way; threatening his preference for sexual experiences with very young women?
Placing the name in the very centre of all the others, Nat determined to find out more about his family circumstances and his night-time habits. He would visit Hanley, too. Sometimes it just took a more direct approach to flush out a guilty quarry and make them run.
Meanwhile, he would make absolutely certain that Cassandra came nowhere near the vicinity of her uncle’s friend.
Cassie could barely settle to anything for the whole of the next day, a sort of wild excitement that verged on panic underlying everything she did.
Jamie was so much better, leaving his bed and eating large plates of whatever the cook tempted him with. Maureen was astonished at how much improved he seemed, though it was another matter entirely that she quizzed Cassandra about.
‘There is word you had a visitor late last night, Cassie. Lord Nathaniel Lindsay was an unexpected caller?’
Cassandra knew her sister’s ways. Maureen obviously had found out a lot more about the unusual happening and was waiting for Cassandra to unravel it for her.
‘Lord Lindsay looks familiar somehow. I cannot quite put my finger on how I should know him, but...?’
At that precise moment Jamie ran past playing with a small train, and it was if a shutter had suddenly been raised.
‘Oh, my goodness, Lindsay is Jamie’s father? Nathanael is his second name?’
Horror stood where a humorous playfulness had lingered a moment before. ‘He ruined you?’
‘No. We were married, Reena. In France, almost five years ago. Everything is perfectly legal.’
‘Then why...?’ She could not even formulate her next question.
‘One day I will tell you everything, but not at this moment. If you could keep my confidence for a little while longer, I would be most appreciative.’
‘He will not break your heart again?’
‘Again?’ She could not quite understand what her sister alluded to.
‘You came home from Paris like a half person and never looked at another male with any thoughts of interest although there were many good men who were offering. I knew there was someone. I just thought he was dead.’
There are worse ways to be separated than in death, Cassie thought as Jamie came over to her to demand a cuddle. Her sister’s dark eyes watched carefully.
‘Kenyon likes him. I do, too.’
‘Who does he like?’ Jamie’s voice put paid to any further conversation.
* * *
In the late afternoon Cassie fussed about which gown to put on and finally decided on a dark yellow silk, a little outdated but beautifully cut. She fashioned her own hair into a bun at her nape, decorating the sides with two ornate tortoiseshell combs she had procured in the Marais. Cassie reasoned that if the night was to play out as she hoped she needed a style that would be easily unpinned and quickly redone when she left in the early hours of the next day.
Even the thought of it all made her apprehensive. Such a premeditated and deliberate choice. The hands of the clock seemed to race towards eight, and her stomach felt agitated and jittery.
She was twenty-three and she had had just one lover for only a short time. She did not count the Baudoins’ rough handling of her in the first days of Nay, preferring to forget about the violence and hurt of the place. No, all she remembered now were the weeks between Saint Estelle and Perpignan, and the utter need they had felt for each other, the desire and the passion.
Breathing, she held in her hope as an aching desperateness. Could this happen again or had she ruined it with her choice of sacrificing others so that they might live?
She turned to the mirror and looked at herself. She was not a bad person or a deceitful one. She had done her best ever since the betrayal at Perpignan to make amends for the harm that she had caused. Would Nathaniel see that of her? Would he be able to look beyond the past and see a future?
‘Please, God, let it be so,’ she whispered and hurried to find shoes, stockings and a coat to match her gown.
* * *
Cassandra arrived on the dot of eight-fifteen, the ornate clock in the corner of the front entrance still calling out the quarter-hour. She had come. Dismissing his man, Nat went out to the carriage to open the door, the large black cape she wore hiding much, though her eyes shone through in the dark, anxious and fearful.
‘Is Jamie better today?’ A topic other than this want that hung between them was welcomed, and she smiled.
‘He is, my lord.’ She allowed the Lindsay servant to take her cloak.
‘So formal, my lady.’
At that she blushed heavily, and would have tripped on the hem of her yellow gown had he not placed his hand beneath her arm. God, all he wanted to do was to snatch her up and take her to his bed, to assuage a pummelling need that was gaining more traction with every single second.
Friendship.
