Spider Light(39)
There was a moment when Twygrist’s whispering darkness swooped around Thomasina’s head almost knocking her off balance. Maud was being sick in the mornings–she was being sick. After a moment, she was able to say, ‘I don’t believe you. I empty the commode and the washing bowl–I’d have known.’
‘She’s sick out of the window,’ said Simon exasperatedly.
Thomasina stared at him, and then, because he could not be allowed to get the upper hand, said, ‘I don’t believe you’d talk about any of this. You wouldn’t come out of it so very well yourself, would you? That arrangement we had—’
‘My dearest girl, I shouldn’t give a tuppenny damn what people in Amberwood said about me, because I shouldn’t be around to hear it,’ said Simon. ‘I’d be back in London, living on your money. But a tale like that wouldn’t do me much harm, you know. The women would eye me with that particular kind of nervous fascination they always reserve for libertines. And most of the men would be rather envious–I told you, didn’t I, that it’s every man’s private fantasy to be in bed with two women together? Even if one of the women is you.’
From within the turmoil of Thomasina’s mind, two things came uppermost. One was that if Maud really was pregnant, Simon’s spiteful greed must not be allowed to taint the future of that small Josiah. Her thoughts flew ahead to the whispers that would hiss round Amberwood. Something odd about young Josiah Forrester’s conception, people would say. Something unsavoury. And her lovely boy would find himself shunned and cold-shouldered. That must not be allowed to happen.
But there was a much deeper danger here, and that was Simon’s threat to tell people about the visits to Seven Dials. Thomasina did not mind so much if people knew about the sweet innocent young things she had seduced in Amberwood over the years–the daughters of solicitors and businessmen who lived in Amberwood and the surrounding villages. The girls had been flattered and slightly awed at being pampered and petted by Miss Forrester, and they had probably not understood the actual seduction anyway. Thomasina thought she could very easily deal with any sly rumours about that. But she was not sure she could cope with the truth about Seven Dials coming out. How much did Simon actually know about the girl who lived at 17 Paradise Yard? Might this friend of his have followed Thomasina, and seen her enter the ramshackle house with the peeling fa?ade?
Thomasina’s first visit there had horrified her. The girl, who seemed to be called the Cat by most people, shared her two disreputable rooms with two other girls who plied a similar trade, and with a thin girl of about fourteen who sat in a corner of the room with a book, never spoke and scarcely looked at Thomasina.
Thomasina had been appalled by the squalor and the poverty, although the Cat had only laughed and demanded a half-sovereign–she set her charges according to her clients’ prosperity, she said, and one day she intended to be very rich indeed–and then had gone through to the squalid bedroom that was barely bigger than a cupboard, and flung off her clothes and thrown herself onto the bed.
Listening to Simon’s threats, Thomasina knew she would do anything to keep her association with the Cat a secret.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
For a long moment neither of them spoke, and then, in an ordinary, slightly grudging, voice, Thomasina said, ‘It doesn’t look as if you’re giving me much choice, does it, Simon? I’d better see what I can work out.’
‘I think you had,’ said Simon. And then, in a slightly more conciliatory tone, ‘Sorry to do this to you, old girl, but needs must.’
‘Oh yes, I quite see that.’ Thomasina did not even care that Simon had called her old girl. ‘We’d better go back to Quire,’ she said. ‘You lead the way up the steps, and I’ll bring the candle.’
‘Yes, all right. Uh–no hard feelings?’
‘None in the world,’ said Thomasina and waited for Simon to turn away and go back up the steps. He had reached the third step when she snuffed out the candle, and at once made a little tsk of annoyance.
‘Oh what a nuisance–I’m sorry about that, Simon; it must be the damp air. I can relight it, though–I’ve got matches in my pocket.’
‘Ever efficient,’ said Simon, waiting. ‘It’s jolly cold down here, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it—Here’s the candle, and—Oh, no.’
‘What?’
‘It’s the keys. I had them in my pocket with the matches, and now they aren’t there. I must have dropped them while I was in the tunnels. I’ll have to go back; I must lock the doors when we go.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t leave them on the upper floor? Or even in the door? If they’d fallen out of your pocket down here, you’d have heard them, surely?’
‘They were definitely in my pocket when I lit the candle. But I stumbled against some of the bits of machinery down here–a rusty cog-wheel as a matter of fact–and they probably dropped out then. I don’t think I’d have heard them, what with getting tangled up with the cog-wheels.’
She felt, rather than heard, Simon’s sigh of exasperation. ‘Give me the candle,’ he said. ‘You wait here and I’ll go back to look for the wretched keys. How far along the tunnels did you actually get?’