At the Highwayman's Pleasure(15)

‘Mr Durden.' She was inordinately pleased to see him and it was all she could do not to simper when he gave a little bow.

Stop it, Charity. He is only a man after all.

‘I am on my way to the Assembly Rooms, ma'am. If that is your destination, perhaps I may escort you?'

A smile burst from her at his invitation, even while she was admonishing herself for blushing like any schoolgirl.

‘Why-why, yes, sir, thank you.'

‘Will you send your maid home?'

‘Mrs Harrup is my dresser as well as my maid. Mr Jenkin has hired a room and refreshments for all the backstage staff, too.'

And if they had not, Charity would still have insisted that Betty walk behind.... Wouldn't she?

Charity took his arm and allowed him to escort her away from the  theatre. A biting wind whistled through the streets and there was a  threat of snow in the air. She pulled her cloak a little closer about  her.

‘Are you cold, madam?'

Ross laid his hand over hers, where it rested on his sleeve. His touch was oddly comforting.

‘No.'

‘But your gloves are so thin.' His grip tightened on her fingers until  she could feel the warmth of him. She glanced at his hands. They were  large and capable, encased in York tan gloves. Surely their warmth could  not penetrate through that and the kidskin that covered her own hands?  Yet heat was spreading through her whole body as she walked beside Ross  Durden. She was aware of a temptation to press even closer to his side,  but she resisted and tried to strengthen her resolve by reminding  herself it was not part of her plan to ally herself with any man.  However, walking in silence beside him was awkward so she searched her  mind for something to say.                       
       
           



       

‘I understand you were a sailor, Mr Durden.'

‘I was.'

‘But you gave it up to run Wheelston.'

‘I had no choice.' His tone brought her eyes flying to his face. In the  sudden flare of the street lamp she thought he looked put out, as if he  regretted his words, and her suspicions were confirmed when he said  more gently, ‘There was no one else to take over when my mother died.'

‘And do you miss the sea?'

She felt his dark eyes turned upon her.

‘Would you miss acting, Mrs Weston, if you were obliged to give it up?'

She considered for a moment.

‘I enjoy it, certainly, but I could live without it. However, I would be loath to give up the independence I have now.'

‘Ah, independence. Surely if you have sufficient wealth, independence is guaranteed.'

‘For a man, perhaps, but for a woman, an unmarried woman, there are always the constraints of decorum and propriety.'

‘The solution must be to marry, then.'

Charity shook her head.

‘Not at all. I have no intention of handing over control of my life and my fortune to any man.'

Charity pressed her lips together, startled by her own vehemence, which  more than matched the bitterness she had heard in his voice. She hoped  he would not question her, and it was with some relief she noticed they  had reached the Assembly Rooms. She carefully removed her fingers from  his arm and preceded him up the stairs.

The rooms were already crowded, and within moments of entering Charity  was at the centre of a laughing, chattering crowd. She looked up at  Ross, directing a look of smiling apology at him. He merely nodded and  moved off, leaving her free to give her attention to her friends and  acquaintances, but she felt vaguely dissatisfied. Not that she wanted  Ross Durden to cling to her side all evening, but she would have liked  him to show a little more disappointment at having her snatched away  from him so quickly. She shrugged off the thought and scolded herself  for becoming far too conceited.

Mrs Tremayne was approaching and Charity summoned up a smile of  welcome. The widow was one of the theatre's richest patronesses, but  even if she had been a pauper Charity liked to think she would not have  treated her any differently.

‘My dear, did I see you come in on young Durden's arm?' The widow's  rather sharp countenance was flushed with heat from the crowded room.  ‘Quite a surprise to see him here tonight, but I would put you on your  guard where that young man is concerned, if no one has already done so.'

Charity blinked. ‘No, ma'am, they have not.'

‘Well, you will soon discover he has very few friends in Allingford.'  The older woman leaned closer. ‘Such an ungovernable temper.' She looked  up as the rustle of silk heralded Lady Beverley's approach. ‘Will you  not agree with me, my lady?'

‘Agree with what, madam?'

‘That Mr Durden's intemperate nature makes him a man best avoided.'

‘Any man may lose his temper if the provocation is great enough,'  returned the magistrate's wife in her usual cheerful manner. ‘I have  never experienced his ill temper, although I do agree the young man did  not behave very well, leaving his poor mother to manage Wheelston  without any help. However, we do not fall out with him over it-after  all, he is owner of a substantial property and Sir Mark is always  anxious to get on with his neighbours wherever he can.' She smiled at  Charity. ‘I always make a point of inviting Mr Durden to our little  soirées, but he never comes. In fact, he rarely visits Allingford.'

‘Then you have not seen him this evening? He is here,' declared Mrs Tremayne. ‘He came in with Mrs Weston on his arm.'

‘Did he now?' Lady Beverley's brows went up. ‘Well, well, that is unusual. And he escorted you, Mrs Weston? How interesting.'

‘It is nothing, ma'am,' said Charity, hoping she was not blushing. ‘I  met Mr Durden on the street and he accompanied me for the last few  yards, that is all.'

‘Very gallant of him,' returned Lady Beverley. ‘But it is hardly  surprising that he should take the opportunity-why, any gentleman would  do so.'

‘But Mrs Weston should be on her guard,' Mrs Tremayne persisted.

‘Well, now you have warned her I am sure she can be.' Lady Beverley  tucked her hand in Charity's arm. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, ma'am, I  am going to steal Mrs Weston from you. Sir Mark has brought guests who  are mad to meet her.' With another smile she carried Charity off, saying  with a twinkle, ‘That is not exactly the truth, but I know how Mrs  Tremayne rattles on and I so want you to tell me all about your next  production...'                       
       
           



       

‘In a moment.' Charity led her to a quiet corner. ‘I recall at our  first meeting you said Mr Durden's was a taciturn nature, but that it  was-how did you phrase it?-understandable in the circumstances.'

‘Heavens, did I? Fancy you remembering that.'

‘As an actor I am obliged to remember a great deal,' replied Charity,  not to be distracted. ‘What did you mean, ma'am? What circumstances?'

The lady glanced across the room to where Ross was standing alone by a window.

‘The family at Wheelston always kept themselves apart, my dear. Ross  Durden was sent to naval college as a boy, so here in Allingford we knew  very little of him, save for his occasional visits to Wheelston. Of  course, when he remained at sea after his father died, that did cause  some talk.'

‘So is it people's disapproval that has made him taciturn?' Charity  shook her head, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘I can see from your  look that there is more to it than that.'

Lady Beverley gave a nervous little laugh, ‘My dear, I vow you are like  a terrier with a bone, worrying away at me like this! It would be wrong  of me to speculate and I do so hate gossipmongers-'

‘Come now, ma'am. If you are going to allow people like Mrs Tremayne to  warn me against the gentleman, then you must give me a reason.'

Lady Beverley looked at her desperately, but seeing that Charity would  not be moved, she capitulated, saying with a sigh, ‘When Mrs Durden  became ill Wheelston gradually fell into disrepair. Creditors went  unpaid and the staff were turned off, all save Mrs Durden's nurse  companion. There was some talk at the time that she and Mr Durden were  engaged to be married, but that might have been pure gossip, for the  young lady was rarely seen in Allingford. Certainly she stayed until the  old lady died, although she told Dr Jarvis-in the strictest confidence,  of course-that she was only staying on out of Christian goodness. She  said Mr Durden had instructed that the rents must be put up to help pay  for the upkeep of the house. Well, there was only one way that could  end: the tenants couldn't pay and were forced to move out. Wheelston was  in a very poor way when old Mrs Durden died.' She gave a little sigh,  her kindly, cheerful countenance unusually sober. ‘Her nurse companion  left before the funeral- Well, what else could she do, if there was no  money to pay her salary? By the time Mr Durden came home again his mama  was buried and the house and estate had been closed up for several  months.