Gail Whitiker - No Place For An Angel

‘Oh, aye.’ He smiled and winked suggestively. ‘For a gentleman?’

‘No. For Lord Alderbury and about a hundred of his guests, at a ball to celebrate his daughter’s engagement,’ Catherine said with as much patience as she could muster. ‘I was invited to sing.’

‘Well, ain’t that nice,’ the man said. ‘Expect me to believe that, do you?’

‘I expect you to believe it because it’s the truth,’ Catherine said. Had the circumstances been different, she would have told Stubbs to mind his own business, or at the very least to go away and leave her alone. But it would have been foolhardy to do one and she knew better than to expect the other. ‘You can verify it easily enough, Stubbs. No doubt details of the reception will appear in the society columns tomorrow.’

‘No doubt they will,’ Stubbs agreed, his gold tooth briefly catching the light from the overhead lamp. ‘Enjoy moving with the toffs, do you, Miss Jones?’

‘I don’t move with them, Stubbs. I sing for them. There’s a difference.’

‘But they pay you well for your trouble.’

‘Of course. I wouldn’t do it otherwise.’

‘I wonder you do it at all, a famous actress like you,’ Stubbs said, his cracked leathery face reminding Catherine of one of the gargoyles crouched atop the marquess’s house. ‘Would have thought you already had everything you need. Except your boy, of course. And believe me, money’s no guarantee of ever getting him back.’

Despite the warmth of the evening, Catherine shivered. ‘What do you know about Thomas?’

‘I know the vicar believes he’s watching out for the boy’s soul. And that it would suffer if he were to come to live with a fallen woman like you,’ Stubbs said, leaning against the wall. ‘If Hailey were to hear you’d done something foolish with one of your toffs—’

‘He won’t hear that because I haven’t done anything foolish,’ Catherine said. ‘You know what kind of life I lead, Stubbs. Where I go and who I see. I’ve maintained the same lifestyle for the past five years. Why would I be so foolish as to do something to jeopardise it now?’

‘Who knows? Stronger women than you have given in to temptation. Women who do everything they can, but still can’t make ends meet.’

‘Well, I can and Reverend Hailey knows it. And when the Gryphon shuts down in a week’s time, I intend to go and collect Thomas.’

‘Do you now? Well, let me give you a word of advice. The vicar ain’t your only worry when it comes to the boy. His wife’s taken a real fancy to him and all. Takes him with her wherever she goes. Treats him like her own son.’

‘But he’s not her son. He’s mine!’

‘Damn it, woman, keep your voice down!’ Stubbs said, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. ‘You’ll have the whole bloody street awake. And there’s no point blowing up at me. I’ve got nothing to do with it.’

No, he didn’t, and belatedly, Catherine realised she would gain nothing by lashing out at him. Stubbs was only a pawn. Her real fight was with the man—and now, by all accounts, the woman—for whom Stubbs worked. ‘So, are you going to report my evening’s activities to your master?’

‘Depends. How much is it worth to you that I not say anything?’

Catherine clenched her teeth and pulled out the marquess’s envelope. This was always how the game was played and it was the reason she continued to give private concerts. Stubbs threatened to send a false report back to Hailey and she paid him not to do so. In short, blackmail. It didn’t matter that she had nothing to hide. Stubbs was in the position of power and he didn’t hesitate to use it. ‘I trust this will help convince you that nothing worth reporting happened tonight.’ She handed him his usual stipend. ‘Do we have an accord?’

Stubbs made a pretence of counting the money before stuffing it into a small leather pouch he carried for the purpose. ‘A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Jones.’ He doffed his battered beaver and scurried away like a rat into the night.

Catherine unlocked the front door and went inside. It had been an unpleasant end to the evening, but in truth, she had been lucky to escape as lightly as she had. If Stubbs had seen her getting out of Valbourg’s carriage—with Valbourg still inside—it would have taken a lot more than five pounds to guarantee his silence. Worse, it could have been Moody, the other man Hailey employed to keep an eye on her, in which case she would have been forced to hand over a great deal more of her night’s earnings. Moody was a nasty piece of work; a man who had been in and out of prison and who seemed to have no conscience whatsoever.

Sell his own kid for a bob, Stubbs had once told her. And with someone like that hanging around, Catherine knew she couldn’t risk stepping out of line. Any association, no matter how innocent, between herself and a man of wealth or title would be turned into something sordid and dirty. Between Moody and Stubbs, she had more than enough reasons for avoiding any kind of involvement. With Lord Valbourg or anyone else.

Chapter Three

The following afternoon brought a bit of welcome news in the form of a letter from Miss Gwendolyn Marsh, the spinster with whom Catherine had lived for her pregnancy and the first few months of Thomas’s life and with whom she still maintained a friendship.

Gwen wrote in an elegant, flowing hand.

My dearest Catherine,

How I look forward to seeing you again. It feels as though it has been much longer than six months between visits this time. I have followed your success, of course. I understand Promises is still the rage in London, and I am smiling to myself, remembering the nervous young girl who came to stay with me all those years ago, with nary a thought of performing on stage, let alone becoming one of its brightest stars!

But I digress. I am glad to hear you will be travelling to Grafton to collect Thomas.

I am so happy for you, my dear. You have worked very hard for this, forgoing the pleasures enjoyed by most young women your age, and you deserve now to reap the rewards...

Catherine let the letter fall to her lap, her mind casting back over the events of the past five years. Yes, she had worked hard, but what choice had she had? Making a success of her life was the only hope she’d had of regaining custody of Thomas.

She remembered as though it were yesterday the day she had arrived on Gwendolyn Marsh’s doorstep, pregnant with Will Hailey’s child. Will, the only son of the Reverend James Hailey and his first wife, Ruth, had been Catherine’s first love; an attachment formed when Will had started coming to her house to take lessons with her father. A thoughtful, quietly spoken lad, Will had actually been eight months younger than Catherine, but his gentle manners and studious air had made him seem older, and it was, perhaps, inevitable that a friendship would spring up between them.

They saw a great deal of each other over the next few months, the friendship deepening into an attraction and eventually into love. Unfortunately, Will didn’t tell his parents about his feelings for Catherine. Nor did he know, on the day he was thrown from his horse and killed, that she was carrying his child. For that reason, Reverend Hailey had refused to believe Catherine when she told him of their involvement. As far as Hailey was concerned, Catherine was just the schoolmaster’s daughter. He had been horrified to learn she was carrying his dead son’s child and had refused to have anything to do with her.

Nor had her own father been much better, Catherine reflected. Having recently lost his wife and struggling to come to terms with his own grief, Peter Jones had been unable to help her, his sadness prompting him to say things Catherine would never forget. So she had written to Miss Gwendolyn Marsh, a spinster and close friend of her late mother. Miss Marsh lived in Cheltenham, and it was to her Catherine had poured out her heart, going so far as to ask Miss Marsh if she might come and live with her until her baby was born.