than a man of his experience would be for a first night in a second-rate theatre.
‘Jenny’s nineteen,‘ he said. ‘She’s only been in London a few months. She comes from a village in Kent, near Maidstone. Her father’s a farm labourer. Her mother died and he married again.’
‘She ran away from a wicked step-mother?’
I didn’t like the flippancy in my own voice. In fact, I didn’t like myself very much at all. Only minutes ago, I’d been angry that my brother was trying to press me into marrying Daniel. Now here I was feeling shocked and miserable because he loved somebody else. I’d guessed the moment I saw them together, known for certain when his fingers rested on her shoulder just a moment longer than it needed to settle the shawl. Why should I be shocked? Daniel had made no promises to me, nor I to him. If I’d assumed, too easily, that I’d always be the woman in the world who mattered most to him, that was no fault of his.
Daniel gave no sign that he’d noticed my tone.
‘She ran away to London because she wanted to dance. She saw some travelling troupe at a fair and that was all she wanted to do. I honestly believe she thought London was full of happy people singing and dancing.’
I bit my tongue to stop myself saying that nobody should be that naïve, even a country girl. Daniel must have picked up on my thoughts.
‘I’m making her sound like a fool, Liberty. I promise you, she’s far from that. She’s quick minded, a talented dancer and has an excellent ear for music. And the sheer courage of her amazes me. Here she is, a little thing with no friends and no experience, managing to survive in London. Can you imagine what that must be like?’
‘Yes.’
‘She’s sharing a room with two of the other dancers in Seven Dials. One of them brings men home. There’s only the one room and two beds in it. You understand?’
I imagined two girls huddled in one of the beds of a slum room, listening to the sounds from the other bed a few feet away.
‘She’s only just begun trusting me enough to tell me about it,‘ Daniel said. ’It makes me sick even thinking of it.’
‘How long have you known her?’
‘Three weeks. I must do something, Libby. But I can’t bring her to lodge with me in a house of men. Her reputation would be entirely gone.’
I thought, Unless you married her. I didn’t put it into words in case it tipped him into something he’d spend the rest of his life regretting.
‘So you can guess what I want to ask you. It was in my mind in any case, but when you arrived just now …’
Ironic, I supposed, guessing what was coming.
‘I wonder if she might come to live with you and Mrs Martley. Only for a while, of course, until I can make some other arrangement. It’s a lot to ask, but…’
He looked me in the face, wanting this more than I’d ever known him want anything. I hoped my horror didn’t show. The two rooms in Abel Yard were a tight fit for me and Mrs Martley. Having to take in a girl I knew almost nothing about would be a burden, even without this feeling of hollowness round my heart. But Daniel had found me the rooms; even paid for them, if my suspicions were correct.
‘Yes, very well,’ I said.
He grabbed my hand and squeezed it, face bright with relief.
‘Bless you, child. May I tell her?’
‘Yes, if you like.’
‘She could come straight home with you after the performance tonight. I’ll find a cab.’
Worse and worse. I’d hoped for a day or two’s breathing space.
‘I’ll have to warn Mrs Martley.’
‘We’ll send her a note.‘ He was buoyant now, glowing with relief. ’Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?’
‘My brother’s written you a letter,‘ I said. ’I think there may be something impertinent in it about me. He shouldn’t have written it; please disregard it.’
He looked blank for a while.
‘Oh yes, a letter from India arrived yesterday. I’m afraid I haven’t had time to open it yet. Is it important?’
‘No. Would you tear it up, please.’
‘Yes, if you want me to.’ He smiled like his old self. ‘Child, you’re a constant surprise. You walk from Mayfair to Long Acre to ask me to tear up a letter.’
‘There’s something else,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘What do you know about Columbine?’
His good humour was gone in an instant. He thumped his palm down on the bass notes of the piano, producing a sound like an elephant stepping on a stack of plates.
‘That she has the temperament of a cobra, the rhythmic sense of a lame cow and a belief in her own importance that would make Cleopatra look like a shrinking violet.’
I laughed.
‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘she is the most infuriating person it’s ever been my misfortune to work with. In two weeks, she’s attended rehearsal just four times and then walked out the moment it suited her. She won’t hear the faintest word of criticism, and the other dancers spend most of the time trying to keep the wretched woman upright. Why in the world are you interested in her?’
I took a deep breath and told him about the meeting with Disraeli, knowing he wouldn’t like it.
‘That puffed-up dilettante! He had no right to approach you. You should have snubbed him.’
‘He’s not easy to snub.’
‘I’m sure he’s past caring about his own reputation, but he should have more concern for yours.’
That sounded so like my brother that I began to suspect he’d read the letter after all.
‘I can take care of my own reputation, thank you. I know he’s a Conservative, but what else is to his discredit?’
‘Apart from the most ridiculous maiden speech in parliamentary history?’
It had been the talk of the town for days. Within a few weeks of taking his seat, Disraeli had made his first speech on the Irish question, with so many high-flown theatrical flourishes that he’d reduced even his own side to helpless laughter.
‘That’s beside the point,‘ I said. ’Apparently he has friends who are prepared to pay money for backstage gossip about Columbine.’
‘I hope you told him you’d have nothing to do with it.’
I didn’t answer. He drew the correct conclusion from that and sighed. He wanted to argue, I knew, but was too grateful to me at the moment.
‘Be
