‘I have hidden behind a stage name for too long. I have accepted the courtesy title of Mrs Weston, but I will go no further. I want to be myself now.' She sipped her wine. ‘I have heard nothing of Phineas since I left.' His brows lifted and she continued, ‘I stopped calling him "Father" years ago. He does not deserve the title. Is my stepmother still living?'
‘No. She died several years ago, before he moved to Beringham. He is a man of property now. It appears your stepmother left him a tidy sum.'
Charity looked up, surprised. ‘Really? I knew he had married her for her dowry, but I had thought it was all spent.'
‘Apparently not, since he came to Beringham a man of some means. He has married again and his wife brings with her a small fortune. He is now a magistrate, too.'
‘Is he indeed?' She grimaced. ‘Poor Beringham.'
‘Very true. Thankfully we have a county border between us. He rules with a rod of iron and will allow no theatres or entertainments in his area.' He grinned. ‘All the better for me, of course, since those who want to see a play must come to Allingford.'
‘It must irk him dreadfully to know people are free to enjoy themselves here. I wonder if he is aware that the theatre in Scarborough was built by a clergyman? He would certainly not approve of that! Phineas believes salvation can only come about through suffering.'
‘As long as it is not his own.'
She laughed and said bitterly, ‘Of course. He was always able to justify his own comfort.'
‘He and his wife live in very grand style now,' Hywel told her. ‘He has a fine house in Beringham. It is stuffed full of works of art, I am told, some of quite dubious quality, but expensive nevertheless. And he has set up his own stable, with a fancy carriage to take him and his lady about the country.'
Charity gazed into the fire, wondering if this third wife was any happier than the first two. She had never forgotten her mama's anxious careworn face, the way she would jump at shadows, always afraid of incurring her husband's wrath. When she died, Phineas had immediately taken another wife, a kindly woman who had soon been broken by his cruelty and become a meek, silent figure in the house. Charity shuddered.
‘Thank goodness I am no longer part of that family.'
‘Yet the connection is sure to be made,' said Hywel. ‘Some in Beringham will remember that Phineas once had a daughter.'
‘That was thirteen years ago, Hywel. I will never acknowledge the connection and I doubt Phineas would want it known. The past is dead to me.'
He looked unconvinced.
‘Do you still suffer the nightmares?'
She shrugged. ‘Rarely. Although, I did wonder, coming here-'
Hywel laid his hand on her arm.
‘You are safe enough here, Charity. Weston has no jurisdiction in Allingford. And you can rely upon my protection.'
She reached out and briefly took his hand.
‘I know that, Hywel. You have always been a good friend to me. But enough of this dull talk. Tell me how you go on here and what you have chosen for my first role!'
‘The theatre is doing very well-my players are good and reliable. I thought, for your first appearance, you should play Mr Sheridan's sentimental heroine, Lydia Languish.'
‘And will you be Captain Absolute?'
He shook his head, laughing. ‘I am too long in the tooth now to play the lover. Will Stamp takes those roles now.'
‘Young Will? I remember he had just joined you when I left.'
‘And proved himself a good actor,' said Hywel. ‘I shall play his father, Sir Anthony.'
‘Do you have a script for me? It is a while since I played Lydia.'
‘Of course. I shall furnish you with one tomorrow when I take you to the theatre to meet my cast.'
‘And I must find myself somewhere to live.'
‘You are quite welcome to stay here for as long as you wish.'
‘Thank you, Hywel, but I thought to rent a little house for myself.'
‘You will need a manservant. I know just the fellow-'
‘No, no, at least, not yet. Betty can do all I need-Betty Harrup, my maid and dresser. She has been with me for several years and is upstairs even now unpacking for me. We have been used to fending for ourselves and I shall be quite content.' A mischievous chuckle escaped her. ‘And I shall not be asking you to fund me, Hywel. I have invested well enough and have a comfortable income now.'
‘In that case, I shall find for you all the most suitable properties for a woman of substance. I shall puff off your fame quite shamelessly and Allingford's landlords will be falling over themselves to provide a house for you. We have three weeks before we open again, so you have plenty of time to make yourself at home here. But enough of that. I had dinner put back and I am sure you must be hungry.'
‘Ravenous, my dear. Shall I go upstairs and see if Betty has unpacked for me, or will you allow me to dine with you in all my dirt?'
He laughed. ‘Let us dine now, by all means! A little dust on your skirts will do no harm.'
They passed the rest of the evening comfortably enough, catching up on all that had happened since they last met, and despite the nagging worry of knowing her father lived in the neighbouring town, when Charity retired to bed there were no nightmares to disturb her slumbers. Instead she dreamed of a masked man on a black horse.
* * *
Charity soon found a home of her own in Allingford. In less than a week she had moved into a snug little house in North Street. It took only a couple days to make it comfortable, and on the third evening Charity was able to sit down in the little sitting room to study her script of The Rivals, ready for the rehearsals, which were to start in earnest the following day.
‘I've brought in more coals for the fire, Miss Charity.'
‘Thank you, Betty. You need not wait up for me, I shall see myself to bed.'
The maid dropped the bucket on the hearth and straightened, bending a fond but frowning gaze upon her mistress.
‘Now, don't you be sitting up 'til all hours straining your eyes, ma'am.'
‘I promise you I won't,' said Charity with a smile. ‘Goodnight, my dear.'
Betty went out again and soon she heard her stumping up the wooden stairs. Charity turned back to her script, but she could not give it her full attention, for she was aware of the creaks and sighs as the unfamiliar house settled down for the night. Once she heard a soft thud and she took her candle into the back room to check that the door into the yard was secure. Her candle flickered and she looked around a little nervously.
Everything was strange and new, but she comforted herself with the thought that soon she would know every nook and creaking floorboard of the little house. She went back to the sitting room, but the fire had died down and she decided she would not waste more coal on it.
‘I shall go to bed,' she told the shadowy corners. ‘The Rivals must wait until tomorrow.'
She went upstairs and as she passed the first door she heard the rhythmic snores coming from her maid. There were two more rooms in the attic, but Charity had insisted Betty should sleep in one of the two chambers here on the first floor. Smiling, she made her way to her own chamber. It was at the back of the house, and she had chosen it because she thought it would be much quieter than the room overlooking the street. As she entered, her candle flickered and she saw that the window was not fully closed. She crossed the room, leaving her candle on the dressing table as she passed. She pushed down on the heavy sash and was just slipping the catch into place when she heard a soft chuckle behind her and a deep voice said, ‘Faith, me darlin', but I'd forgotten how beautiful you are!'
Charity swung round, a startled cry catching in her throat. Behind the door was the shadowy figure of a man in riding dress, a tricorn pulled low over his face.
‘The Dark Rider!'
She saw the flash of white as he grinned.
‘The very same, me lady.'
‘Get out.' She backed against the window. ‘Go now before I call my maid.'
‘Sure, now, I'm thinking you'd have screamed before now if you was going to.'
Charity was wondering why she had not done so. She said, ‘So are you a common housebreaker, too, or did you know this was my house?'
‘Oh, I knew, Mrs Weston. Word travels fast when a celebrated actress takes up residence in a small town like this. Are ye not going to ask me what I'm doing here?'
A trickle of fear ran down her back as she supplied her own answer to that question. She kept her eyes resolutely away from the bed as she stepped closer to the dressing table. ‘I want to know how you got in.'