Silver, page 20
“You would do well to remember that, whilst I am happy to have you share that back street whore, I mean to make Miss Greenwood my own. Do you understand?” The look which he levelled at Avery was, unmistakably, angry. As he recalled it, Avery groaned and rose to wash. Kate stopped midstream in her daily bustle to bring order to Avery’s room and watched his clumsy attempts to tame his hair.
“You were back late last night,” she ventured. “I mean, I don’t mind waiting up for you. I just worried that you….” She allowed the thought to linger in the air before she brought it home to roost. “I worry every time you leave this house that someone might recognise you or that you’ll be found out.”
Her normally calm voice rose and Avery hushed her. Her uncharacteristic nervousness worried him and he turned to face her, smiling to try to lighten the mood. Kate was not so easily distracted and having taken the opportunity, she continued.
“It’s all very well for you Avery, you are off, God knows where, and I am left here with an empty room and an empty bed to account for. I tiptoe past Mrs. Druce’s room and in to the kitchen and sit in the cold. And it is cold in the kitchen at night you know. Not that I mind that but there I sit silently, all alone in the dark thinking about how many ways you could have come a cropper before you knock for me to let you in. And then the knock comes which always makes me jump half out my own skin. I don’t know how my heart can stand it, even when I open the door, I never know if it’s going to be you or a policeman come to deliver bad news and then there’s the thought that on your way back up the stairs we are going to meet someone from the house. Arthur, Mary-Ann, your father!! And there I am! Swanning up before you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to have your mistress follow you up the servant’s stairs after midnight dressed as a man!”
The stream of consciousness poured out without her taking any breath and Avery stood before her, shocked. Not at the fact she was saying any of it but that she had not told him before. Whilst he had known there was risk on her part, she had assured him so many times and, foolishly, he had not considered it again. Kate stood before him and, wrung out by her outpouring, she looked at her feet.
“Kate.” He offered his hand to her and she took it but did not look at him.
“I’m sorry.” He pressed his finger to his own lips to silence her as she looked up at his words. ‘And I should be sorry too. I had not considered any of what you have just told me. I had thought the dangers all to be my own and that is not true. I am more grateful to you now than I have ever been because I know now what loyalty you afford me.’ He watched as her eyes rose to meet his, the hint of a blush forming upon her pale face. ‘But I do not know how to repay you.’
“Repay me?” Kate looked at him searchingly.
“Please, let me finish.” He dropped her hand and walked to the window. “I fear that you think that what I am doing is for sport or for pleasure.” He wheeled around and clapped his hands. “And do not misunderstand me Kate, much of this gives me enormous pleasure but I need you to understand that this is no whim.”
He dropped his gaze to meet her own and she nodded.
“I know, sir.”
“I mean to leave this life behind Kate,” he gestured at himself and the room around him.
“The house?” She narrowed her eyes, not understanding him.
“The house, the life I lead within it. This!” He picked up a discarded dress from the stand beside him and dropped it to the floor. “Whilst I am here, I cannot be myself and whilst I cannot be myself, I cannot be happy.”
Kate watched him warily as he tried to make his meaning clear.
“But what about your father?” she said. What about me, she wanted to add.
Avery sat down on the stool beside the dressing table and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know, but we must leave this all behind, Kate. Don’t you see?”
“We?”
“I mean…I need you Kate, far more than you realise and I cannot do any of this without you. If you would only see how much this all……”
The knock that came at the door made each of them jump far higher than they both imagined was possible. Avery was roused to a standing position and instinctively, given the recent comings and goings within the room, he darted around the room looking for any clues which may give his double life away. Kate, busy doing the same, scurried to the door and, acknowledging the young scullery girl, scurried off without another word to Avery thus not finding out what her mistress had been about to say to her.
~o~
The slightly serious tone of the conversation with Kate had unnerved Avery and, after such a frivolous evening as the previous nights, he was not keen to hang around to discuss the matter again. He knew that he would have to face her again soon and the question of both their futures was becoming a pressing one but whilst he could avoid it, he would. As his heartbeat returned to normal his thoughts turned to Elizabeth Greenwood and the parting invitation she had cast at him as it became clear that Bateman was taking her home.
“You look like a man who enjoys nature Mr. Silver?”
“Indeed?” he had inclined his head with a questioning look.
Bateman had gripped her tighter and given Silver a sharp look.
“I hope I will bump into you again sometime. Perhaps I have seen you already? Do you walk in Hyde Park of an afternoon?”
“Yes, a walk always lifts my mood in the afternoon Miss Greenwood.”
“Particularly after one is feeling rotten,” she offered finally. The young woman, now slightly worse for wear had smiled suggestively at him before being wheeled away by Bateman.
It was less than subtle and Avery expected Bateman, having heard the exchange, would also be found in the vicinity of the Hyde Park area. Yet, as he strolled along the edge of Rotten Row, he was surprised to see Miss Greenwood, seemingly alone. He watched her for some minutes before noticing a young maid several feet behind keeping a sluggish pace with the languid steps of her mistress. He smiled to himself as he recognised the delicate way in which Miss Greenwood moved. The day was not particularly bright and the air was already beginning to become warm with a thick haze settling in the air between them and the high sun. Elizabeth Greenwood wore a hat, tilted to shield her eyes a little and even at this distance, Avery could see that she kept her eyebrows knotted as if the bright light pained her. He chuckled to himself wondering if she would even remember suggesting that he meet her here and whether he would find her as disarming as he had found her last night.
“Miss Greenwood?” He stepped out from the edges of the sandy pathway and raised his hat to, the now stationary, Miss Greenwood.
“Mr. Silver! I declare! What a coincidence!” The words were delivered flatly but with a smile that assured Silver she had full recollection of the previous evening. As the young maid drew up behind her mistress, her eyes rolled at the advent of Silver upon their afternoon’s stroll. The gesture was not entirely lost on Silver and he wondered how it was possible that this girl was able to gad about one of the most public thoroughfares in London with only a naïve young maid as chaperone greeting young men so gaily. He was full of admiration for the young woman but more than that; he was intrigued by her confidence.
“What a surprise indeed!” Avery returned loudly, his own tone matching hers for mock incredulity. “You have brightened up what was threatening to be a very dull day Miss Greenwood.”
“I was just remarking to Cribbs here the very same thing. Wasn’t I Cribbs?” Elizabeth did not look at the maid stood behind her and in return the young girl did not glance at her mistress or Avery as she returned, monosyllabically. “Yes, Miss.”
“Do you care to join us?”
“I would be delighted.” Avery offered up his arm and felt her gloved fingers, at first light upon the sleeve of his jacket, press purposefully upon his forearm as they began to walk on. Elizabeth set the pace and they were soon many paces in front of Cribbs who, in turn, had cut her stride to allow her mistress the distance she obviously was seeking for this interlude.
“How do you do this morning Miss Greenwood?”
Elizabeth Greenwood rolled her eyes and threw her head back, the veins on her neck rippling. It was a vulnerable pose but showed great strength.
“Oh Mr. Silver. I am afraid you will find this amusing but I feel quite unwell. There! I knew you would be unsympathetic.” She pushed out her bottom lip and tried to look cross as Avery chuckled. “I am afraid I have not built up the constitution that you have.” She smiled and pressed his arm again.
“Yet!” he countered.
Flashing a quick glance behind them to ensure they were well out of the earshot of Cribbs, Elizabeth whispered. ‘I hope I did not get you into any trouble with Mr. Bateman last night. He could not fail to lift his mood all the way home and I feel I am much to blame for his dour spirit having spent most of the evening with you instead of he.’ She had leant in to deliver this and her breath was warm upon Avery’s neck making his jaw clench in response to the current of pleasure she had sent down his spine. “No trouble, Miss Greenwood. I can assure you that Giles is quite alright. I am sure he was simply tired.”
“Merely tired you say? I suppose that would explain the dark look he gave you but what do you think he meant by you and he sharing a woman when we left last night?”
Avery felt his cheeks colour a little. So she had heard! It was awkward but he felt sure she had been in such a heady state that he could convince her she had heard incorrectly.
“You must be mistaken, Miss Greenwood. I do not know what you mean.”
She leant away from him as they walked, considering him with a raised eyebrow, questioningly.
“Mr. Silver, if I have given you the impression that wool may be pulled over my eyes then I am sorry to disappoint. I hope you will credit me with the truth more frequently than I am at present intending to meet you again.”
Her tone remained utterly charming and her eyes danced mischievously and Avery felt a little dizzy at the speed of her tongue. Bateman had spent many evenings recently recanting to both he and Goodwin at how the girl dazzled and lashed at one and the same time.
“Which is?” he ventured.
“At the moment, never,” she replied. “You have ten minutes to make me change my mind.” With that she broke her grip on his arm and turned to face her maid, who had been left behind a little and was panting a little in the heat of the afternoon sun.
“Cribbs? It’s awfully warm, would you be a dear and run and fetch us some lemonade whilst we take some shade over there?” She indicated to a broad sweep of trees on the easterly bank of the Serpentine beside which several wrought iron benches had been positioned to take advantage of the view. It was an area Avery knew well, for he had spent several evenings taking in a promenade amongst his fellow Londoners. Even the bench that Elizabeth now led him to was familiar. He had sat and watched many sunsets across the long lake after an early evening. It was a great place to watch people as they passed by. He would take note of how gentlemen greeted each other, how they tipped their hats, clasped each other firmly by the hand and then the elbow effusively. How they fumbled with their trousers when they thought they were not being watched or, when the shadows began to lengthen, how they approached one another, gauging the other’s intent. He himself had been approached by another man on one such evening. He had been caught in a bit of a reverie and found himself staring too hard as a man had stopped to adjust himself when he noticed Avery watching him. The man was short but his clothes were well tailored, if a little crumpled. Avery suspected the man was a city gent but the faint whiff of alcohol as he approached warned him that the man was a little the worse for wear.
“You like to watch do you? How about you give me something in return for my troubles?”
For a moment, Avery had thought his disguise had been rumbled. The man’s face was glazed with want. He had seen the same face come across Bateman or Goodwin and Connie’s punters. It was a face he fancied that even he possessed. The evening was drawing in and, although the sky was still shot with blue, the light was fading fast. He had glanced up the road and seen only a few solitary gentlemen some distance away.
“It’s alright, I know a place we can go. We won’t be seen. Come on, sir,” the man had continued.
Sir? So the man wanted Avery as he was. He was about to respond when he noticed the man reach into the front of his own trousers and withdraw his member. The flesh colour against the dark of his trousers was stark and Avery could not help but stare and the man took this as a sign that Avery was game.
“Come on, take a hold.”
There was not time enough for Avery to register his surprise at being approached in this way, and by another man too! It would be later when he could process the absurdity of the situation. A man in want of another man only to find that man was not quite what he had in mind! At the time, Avery was too shocked to consider the danger he could be in and could only laugh and walk away.
“Oi! You can’t do that!” The man’s voice was loud. Too loud and one of the distant figures turned to see what the commotion was. It was growing too gloomy to see what was happening but it was enough to disperse the man quickly and Avery had walked briskly home.
Now, as he took a seat beside Elizabeth, he watched only Cribbs hurrying across the vast green towards the pavilion where refreshments could be purchased.
“You have until she returns to change my mind back again Mr. Silver. It would be a great shame if you cannot. I was beginning to think we could be friends.”
Avery cast about in his memory trying to remember exactly what Bateman had said to him. At the moment, Elizabeth was in danger of believing that he and Bateman were complicit in some way. To win her attention? To share her, even?
“Miss Greenwood, I fear that you may be much mistaken by what you may have overheard.”
“Do you think me a “backstreet whore” Mr. Silver?”
The phrase Bateman has used came thundering back and Silver responded immediately.
“Good God no! Miss Greenwood, how could you think such a thing? I can assure you that you are indeed mistaken.”
“So you do not think me a whore Mr. Silver but do you intend to share me like one?”
Avery snorted with incredulity. “Of course not! I would sooner eat my own head than share you.” The words had come out wrong but the sentiment was entirely genuine.
“Good,” praised Elizabeth. “Then at such a rate you shouldn’t have to. I much prefer your company to Bateman’s.”
As she delivered this, she squeezed his thigh before standing to turn and greet the returning Cribbs.
“Good girl, Cribbs. What took you so long? Oh don’t say you didn’t bring any sugar? Oh be a sweetheart and fetch us some, won’t you? You would like some sugar wouldn’t you Mr. Silver?”
Cribbs looked as if she would sooner strangle her mistress than do her bidding but she made no sound as she turned on her heel and skulked back across the grass. Elizabeth turned and lowered her gaze at Avery Silver.
“I wonder if you could change my mind back again before the next time she returns?”
She sat down again beside him but this time a fraction closer. Their thighs touched and she pressed her knees towards him, her hand once more upon his thigh. Silver leaned back against the bench, his arms outstretched across the back of the bars and discretely placed a finger in between her shoulder blades and firmly drew a line up to the nape of her neck where the curl of her hair lay tightly coiled. The sensation it invoked within Elizabeth caused her to once again squeeze Avery’s thigh and the two felt a concordant shiver of desire pass between them.
“Have you changed your mind Miss Greenwood?”
“Oh yes,” she replied, her eyes shut tight.
Chapter Six teen - Imogen, 1911
The afternoon of Mrs. Evesham and Mrs. Doone’s visit were, thankfully, devoid of any further unexpected visitors allowing me some small respite in which to quietly grieve and to try and order the many disordered thoughts that buffeted inside my mind. It was the third day following my father’s death and a note had been delivered from the undertakers requesting a set of clothes in which to dress my father for burial. The coroner had concluded his examinations and had released the body for the funeral three days hence. I was grateful of the task as I had been putting off a return to Hamble Gardens fearing what I would unearth there; nevertheless, I found I was relieved of the excuse to go. John had already set Heston about clearing the house ready for sale and I wanted to see the place before the desiccation was complete. I knew Heston well enough to know that he would keep safe such personal effects of my father’s as he would have wanted and I looked ahead with trepidation at the task. Such proximity might bring me closer to understanding this mystery but, at the same time, reveal more than I was willing to learn.
The city had conjured up a cold, so sharp, that I thought my lungs were being ripped apart as I made my way by cab across London. I was raw by the time we reached my father’s house and grateful to step inside the warmth. The door was opened by a young parlour maid whom I did not recognise but, so glad was I to be out from the bitter cold, I forgot to raise the matter immediately. I had been so mindful of staying warm in the cab that I had not had time to think on the journey about how I might feel being back inside that house.
