At the Highwayman's Pleasure(13)

‘I don't see that my being here has any bearing upon you at all,'  replied Charity. ‘Allingford does not come under your jurisdiction.'

‘But to have you parading yourself on the stage, for all the world to gape at and ogle-'tis an outrage.'

‘I am an actress, and a respectable one,' retorted Charity, putting up her chin.

‘You are little better than a trollop from the streets,' Phineas  declared. ‘If you had any proper feeling, you would be using a different  name rather than disgracing mine.'

‘It is my name, too, and I am not ashamed to use it,' she said coldly.  ‘No one has asked me yet if we are related, but if they do I will deny  it, if that is what you wish.'

‘So you would add lying to your many sins.'

Charity raised her brows and said sweetly, ‘If you denied the rumours,  were you not just as guilty? Now, if you will excuse me, I have to  prepare for my next performance.'                       
       
           



       

Phineas glared at her, his nostrils flaring.

‘Unfeeling, unnatural child. To be flaunting yourself in this den of vice-'

‘If you are so disgusted with my performance, I suggest you leave now,' Charity interrupted him.

‘I shall, immediately, but don't think you have heard the last of this-'

‘Now, now, my dear, let us not be too hasty.' His wife caught his arm.  ‘We should stay for the farce, don't you think? After all, we paid good  money for our box and I wouldn't want to waste it.'

Charity watched as her father was torn between his righteous  indignation and his dislike of wasting money. She had to give his latest  wife some credit for being able to handle him so well. She watched as  the new Mrs Weston said in a coaxing tone, ‘Come, sir, let us go back to  our box and leave dear Charity to think over her position.'

‘There is nothing to think over,' retorted Charity. ‘I do not intend to leave Allingford.'

Scowling, Phineas stalked to the door.

‘Come, my love. I shall escort you back to your seat.' He ushered his wife out of the room, then turned once more to Charity.

‘So you will not leave, eh?' His smile and the final softly spoken  words chilled her more than all his earlier raging fury. ‘Dear little  Charity, the Lord has brought you back into my sphere. I should be  thanking Him, for it is clearly His will that you are here and He means  for me to deal with you once and for all. Daughter.'

* * *

From his place in the shadows Ross heard only the final word but it was  enough. He gave a little grunt of satisfaction. So she was his  child-but there was no time to ponder how that might help him just yet.  Phineas and Hannah were walking his way and at any moment they would  come upon him. There was no way to escape without being seen. Then,  suddenly, the problem was solved. A distant voice called for the chorus  to go on stage, and the gaily costumed flock of laughing, chattering  dancing girls crowded past him. Phineas and his wife were obliged to  flatten themselves against the wall to make way. Grinning, Ross slipped  back through the now-empty space and was out of sight even before  Phineas and Hannah had moved.

* * *

Long after her father had left the room Charity remained rooted to the  spot, fear charging through her limbs and leaving her trembling. She  barely heard the excited chatter of the chorus as they rushed by her  door. She should have expected this. She had always known that in coming  to Allingford she risked contact with her father. What she had not  expected was the raging, unreasoning fear that she had experienced in  his presence. It was as if she was a child again, in his power and  unable to defend herself any more than she had been able to defend  herself or her mother from his savage punishments, delivered while he  recited passages from the Bible.

You are a woman now. You are of age. He has no power over you. He has no power over you.

She repeated the words over and over again, but still her limbs would  not work and it was not until Betty came in that the spell was broken.

‘Bless us and save us, madam, what are you doing standing there?' She  took one look at Charity's face and said quickly, ‘Oh, my lord, whatever  is the matter?'

Charity forced her stiff, aching throat to work. ‘My father was here.'

Betty threw up her hands. ‘What, that gentleman and his wife who came  to see you? Well, I never did. You may be sure, Miss Charity, if I'd  known I would never have left you alone with him. But come now, dearie,  the singing and recitations are finished and you have to be on stage in  five minutes!'

‘I do? Oh, yes, of course.' Charity struggled to bring her mind back to the present. ‘Quickly, Betty, help me into my gown.'

* * *

Charity made her way up to the wings, all the time taking deep,  steadying breaths. If she faltered, then the other actors would suffer,  too. She forced herself to think of nothing but the performance. It  worked. She was word perfect as always, paying no heed to the audience,  concentrating upon the stage, upon the next line. Afterwards, she joined  the others in the green room and was relieved to find that Phineas and  his wife were not there. She circulated amongst the patrons, smiling and  laughing as if she had not a care in the world. Only Hywel noticed  anything amiss.

‘You are very pale, my dear. Are you quite well?'

She took his arm, leading him aside to say quietly, ‘My father was in  the audience tonight. He came backstage during the recitations.'

‘The devil he did! What in heaven's name was Smudgeon thinking of-!'                       
       
           



       

‘You mustn't blame Elias, he did not know.' She tried to smile. ‘Most  likely he thought my father was a rich patron that we should butter up.'

‘Well, I'll make dashed sure he doesn't let him in again,' muttered  Hywel. He realised that she was upset and covered her hand with his own.  ‘Don't worry, my dear. He can't hurt you here. He has no authority in  Allingford.'

‘That is what I keep telling myself. And with Betty and Thomas living in I know there is nothing to fear.'

He squeezed her fingers.

‘My house has rooms and to spare-you could always move in with me.'

‘Thank you, Hywel, but no. I came here because I wanted to settle down,  to be done with running away. I have faced my father. He was all bluff  and bluster, nothing more. As you say, he cannot hurt me now.' She  straightened her shoulders and smiled up at him. ‘He is merely the ogre  of my nightmares, and I will not allow him to intimidate me. I shall go  on as I have done so far and...and be damned to him!'

* * *

After the performance, Ross collected his horse and rode home slowly.  He had been tempted to remain for the reception, but had decided against  it. Charity Weston was too alluring, and he needed to be free of her  presence if he was to decide what to do with the knowledge he had gained  that evening-the knowledge that she was the daughter of the man he  hated most in the world.





      Chapter Four

Charity tried to push all thoughts of her father from her mind and was  helped considerably by her busy life. There were theatre performances  every evening and any number of breakfasts and suppers with friends from  the theatre, to say nothing of the invitations to parties and soirées  from Lady Beverley, who liked to fill her house with the writers, poets  and artists living in the area. She thought occasionally of the Dark  Rider and found herself wondering where he was and what he was doing.  She had not seen him since he had appeared in her bedchamber and  returned the brooch.

‘And that is a very good thing,' she told herself, putting him  resolutely out of her mind. ‘Consorting with a highwayman would do your  reputation no good at all!'

The current production continued to play to packed houses and Hywel  reported that even more people than usual were coming over from  Beringham. When Charity learned of it she wondered aloud why, if that  was the case, none of the newspapers had picked up that she had the same  name as Beringham's repressive magistrate.

‘I had expected some rumours and gossip by now,' she told Hywel. She  threw a shrewd glance his way. ‘As manager of the theatre I thought you  might have made use of the connection.'

They were sitting in his office at the theatre, taking a glass of wine together before preparing for the evening's performance.

‘That you are Phineas Weston's daughter?' He grinned and gave one of  the expansive gestures that were his trademark. ‘I might have done so if  he had been a justice in Allingford, but our local newspaper is not  interested in what happens in another town. However, in Beringham it is a  different matter.' He reached around to pull a folded newssheet from  the shelf behind him. ‘This is a copy of the Beringham Courant from a  few weeks ago. You will see that it hints at a connection between you  and Phineas Weston.' He continued in a colourless voice, ‘The editor of  the Courant is now in the House of Correction for one month's hard  labour.'