Sweet Rosie (44 page)

‘Won’t your husband object?’

‘My dear Jem is away on business and my nights get lonely without him.’ She leaned a little closer. ‘Just be discreet, that’s all I ask. I shall leave the French doors of the drawing room open and you can step inside without anyone being any the wiser.’

‘I will count the minutes, dear Polly,’ he said earnestly.

As he watched her carriage roll away in a cloud of dust, John smiled to himself. Tonight, if he was any judge, he was in for a good time. Meanwhile, he would spend the rest of the day seeking out Mr Sparks, bank manager. John had the distinct feeling that the two of them would get along very well.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Edward, be quiet, you’re always complaining about something!’ This time it was the fact that he might be forced to leave the bank in spite of his efforts to cover up his petty pilfering. Alice was in no mood to listen. She felt her swollen stomach; the twins were overdue, either that or she had got her dates wrong. She would not dwell on that possibility; if she had calculated wrongly, the twins could well be Edward’s. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. She stared at him now, his thin face lined with misery. ‘What do I know about your doings at the bank and more to the point, why should I care?’

She closed her eyes, wishing Edward would go away and leave her in peace. She ached in every bone, her legs and feet were grotesquely swollen and Alice was worried that something was wrong with the twins. Surely it was not normal to go on so long?

Perhaps she would ring for Rosie to bring her some herb tea; the brew was supposed to help a woman through her labour. Alice thought of Rosie with fondness; she had come to depend on her maid more than she had thought possible. She did not even complain when Rosie went up to Greenhill each day to spend a few hours cleaning and cooking in her mother’s house.

When Rosie’s mother had passed away it was to Alice she came for comfort. To Alice’s surprise Rosie’s tears had moved her. Perhaps she could ask Rosie her advice about her condition. On the other hand, Rosie was childless; maybe it would be better to have the doctor called in. Oh to hell with it all! She just wanted to sleep.

She closed her eyes but she was restless, unable to relax. ‘Edward,’ she rubbed her hand across her swollen stomach, ‘do you think we should get the doctor? I don’t feel well.’

‘Who’s complaining now?’ Edward was triumphant that he had scored a point off her. ‘In any case, doctors cost money and, as I keep telling you, that’s something we are short of right now.’

Alice was exasperated. ‘How can we be short of money after the loan that Eynon Morton-Edwards made us?’

‘Don’t question me!’ Edward rose from his chair. He was thinner than ever, his nose looked longer and was pinched at the nostrils as though he was constantly plagued by a bad smell. He was the meanest man it was ever her misfortune to meet and she was married to him.

‘Why shouldn’t I question you?’ Alice wanted to hit him. ‘You haven’t been up to your old tricks, have you?’

The look on his face was enough to tell her she had hit the mark. ‘Edward! You’ve been pilfering money again!’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘You should be looking after me, not worrying me with your troubles at work. What are you doing with all the money, that’s what I’d like to know?’

It was not another woman; that much Alice could be sure of. Edward was not one for bed-time games. How she detested him. He was inept at everything he did. He could not even make a decent living for his wife and family.

‘Get the maid, Edward,’ she said briskly. ‘I need something to drink, my throat aches and my head is thumping.’

‘It’s not my place to fetch the maid.’ He was in his pompous mood now, he was such a child. ‘I am supposed to be master of the house, you call the maid, the bell is just above you.’

Alice manoeuvred herself to the edge of the chair and, with a great effort, managed to get to her feet. She tugged at the bell cord, feeling breathless even with such a slight exertion. Surely something must be wrong?

‘Bring me some tea, Rosie, please,’ she said as the maid came into the room. ‘And some of that herb stuff for headaches. Hurry, there’s a good girl.’ She subsided into her chair with a feeling of relief.

The tea was warm and comforting after the bitter taste of the herbal remedy Rosie had prepared for her.

‘You shouldn’t drink that poison.’ Edward pointed at the empty glass. ‘It smells foul, you don’t know what it’s doing to your insides.’

‘It cures my aches and pains and that’s all I care about,’ Alice said defiantly. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Perhaps she would try again to sleep and then she might feel better. In any case, closing her eyes and pretending to sleep would give her some respite from Edward’s constant whining.

Alice relaxed, her mind felt as though it had been wrapped in wool, the pain in her head abated and she slept.

John Pendennis had arranged to see Edward Sparks first thing on Monday morning. He was there bright and early and though he was irritated at being kept waiting he smiled pleasantly and held out his hand.

He could see at once that his manner of speaking and the way he was dressed impressed Sparks; the man managed a smile and gestured towards a chair on the opposite side of the desk.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Pendennis?’ Sparks spoke in clipped tones as though reluctant to allow the words to pass his lips. John summed him up at once: he was mean spirited and game for anything. He was a crook.

‘There is a venture I’m interested in, a real money spinner.’ John smiled. ‘Within a year I aim to treble my initial investment.’

Sparks sat forward in his chair. ‘Might I ask what this investment is?’ He was clearly interested. His small eyes gleamed behind his spectacles.

‘Ah, now this is where you come in,’ John said. ‘I’m going to need some help.’ He smiled easily, noting the way Sparks sat back in his chair.

‘If you are asking me to make an investment along with you then you are out of luck.’ He pressed his thin fingers together. ‘It is not bank policy to let the managers become embroiled in financial dealings with customers.’

‘All I would need from you is some information,’ John said.

‘What sort of information?’ Sparks’s tone was guarded. His shoulders were tense and in spite of his attempt to appear casual, the interest was back in his eyes. ‘And what would be in it for me?’

John knew he had the man hooked. Greed was an overpowering emotion and Edward Sparks had more than his fair share of it.

‘That depends,’ John said. He was playing the man along, tempting him and then withdrawing the bait. Sparks was practically drooling at the prospect of getting in on something that would make him rich.

‘You could earn yourself as much as a forty per cent share in the profits I make,’ John said. ‘If the advice you give me is valuable enough.’ It was time to get to the point.

‘I want to buy the Mainwaring Pottery,’ he said. ‘I hear the owners went through a shaky period some time ago, unpaid debts, that sort of thing.’

‘I am not in a position to disclose personal details,’ Sparks said uneasily. John concealed a smile, his information had been correct, it had been well worth him cultivating Polly Boucher; she was a gossip of the first order. She advised John to put his money in safer hands because Sparks was about to be dismissed from his position and lucky not to be prosecuted for misappropriation, if not downright dishonesty.

He smiled; her enthusiastic response in the bedroom was gratifying, bringing him gifts of fine jewellery as well as generous sums of money. He expected more to come from that quarter and felt that risking his own small resources was no risk at all.

He had only known her a little over a week but already Polly was dependent on him the way women were, clinging to him, begging him to stay with her just a little longer, bribing him with her lithe body as well as with her money.

He met Sparks’s eyes. ‘Cut the garbage!’ he said. ‘We both know you were involved in the decline of the Mainwaring Pottery. You did it once, you could do it again and this time with rich pickings.’ He smiled.

‘Once the property falls low enough in price, I intend to buy it and build it up. Once the creditors know the place is under new management they will supply all that I need to work the place.’

‘But have you experience in that line?’ Sparks asked uneasily. ‘Potting is not such an easy business, you know.’

‘I grew up with it, damn you!’ John said. ‘Do I look the sort of man who would go into something half cocked?’

He rose to his feet. ‘If you are not interested then I will find someone who has the intelligence to recognize a good proposition when it comes along.’ He paused. ‘I have looked at the books, that pottery is a little goldmine, believe me.’

‘But Mrs Mainwaring might notice something.’ Sparks was weakening. ‘I managed to cover the discrepancies up last time, claim there was an unavoidable mistake. Which there was of course,’ he added hastily. ‘I had no intention of bringing the price of the pottery down, you see it was, as I said, a mistake.’

‘But you had a buyer for the place. You were offered a generous sum of cash if you persuaded Mrs Mainwaring to sell, isn’t that so?’

Sparks raised thin eyebrows. ‘Supposing what you say is correct, what would be in it for me?’

‘You would have a nice little sum of money by way of a thank you gesture.’ John smiled. ‘I understand you might be dismissed from your post any day now.’

Sparks ignored that remark and raised his last objection. ‘There’s Watt Bevan, he’s no idiot, he’d know something was wrong even if Mrs Mainwaring failed to notice.’

John knew the man had picked on the only real flaw in the plan. Watt Bevan was astute and he was in charge of most sections of the potting business. But then, accidents could happen to anyone.

‘I’ll take care of Watt Bevan,’ John said slowly. ‘All I want from you is a small diversion of funds from the Mainwaring account to mine.’ John took his bag from his belt and threw it on the desk. ‘I think you’ll find a small sum of money there, just enough to open an account. I expect that account to grow. Do you understand?’

‘I’ll do what I can.’ Sparks’s greedy hand reached for the bag. He adjusted his glasses and stared at the contents. The small sum John had mentioned was quite substantial by Sparks’s reckoning. ‘I think we might be able to do business, Mr Pendennis,’ he said.

‘Good. Now a receipt if you please. I am a cautious man when it comes to business.’ He smiled and waited while Sparks carefully wrote out a receipt and signed it with a flourish.

John leaned over the desk, his face close to the bank manager’s beaky nose. ‘Don’t double-cross me, I’m not a forgiving man.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll say good-day to you, Mr Sparks, for now.’

As John left the bank he was elated, the first part of his plan had been put into action. He had fooled Sparks into thinking he was very rich and persuaded him to leach funds from the Mainwaring Pottery accounts. Now, his business done, he could have a little fun.

‘John!’ Polly greeted him with shining eyes and a beaming smile. ‘I didn’t expect to see you today.’

‘My lady employer gave me time off to go to the bank and to find a place to live,’ he said, easing himself past Polly’s clutching hands. The little trollop could not wait to get him into bed.

‘Jem at home?’

‘No, silly!’ Polly ushered him into the drawing room, issuing a sharp order to the maid that she did not wish to be disturbed. ‘He’s gone up to London on business, I told you he would be away, didn’t I?’

‘So you did.’ He looked around at the plush room and envied Polly her wealth. ‘I can’t stay long, I have to look for lodgings. That inn where I’m staying is such a dreadful little place, it smells of beer day and night.’

‘No need,’ Polly said, a pleased look on her face. ‘I’ve rented a little house down on Broad Street for you.’ She began to unbutton his shirt. ‘Our own little love nest.’

John was taken aback at the way she was taking charge. Polly was a woman who knew what she wanted and, right now, she wanted John Pendennis. He would be a fool not to be flattered and yet he felt a slight resentment that she was taking him for granted.

‘Who says I want to have a love nest with you, Mrs Boucher?’ he said and there was a sharp note in his voice that was not lost on Polly.

‘Oh dear, have I offended your silly male pride?’ She ran her hands over his chest. Her fingers were warm against his skin and, in spite of himself, John was aroused. Polly smiled at him beguilingly.

‘I didn’t mean to upset you, my lovely, but I have lots of money and I like to give gifts to my friends, please don’t be cross with me.’

She had totally misunderstood his mood. John was not averse to taking Polly’s handouts; he just did not like the feeling of a woman being in control. Still, he would teach her who was boss when the time was right.

He took her on the rich carpet and was surprised at his own passionate response to Polly’s uninhibited lovemaking. It was a long time since he had enjoyed a wanton woman, too long. It was over quickly and he read Polly’s disappointment.

‘Give me a little time, darling,’ he said leaning up on one elbow. ‘I will make sure you have your pleasure in just a moment.’ He touched her breast with his fingertips. ‘And forgive my haste, it’s just that you are so skilful a lover and so very beautiful. I just could not contain myself.’

He could see by the glow in her face that his words pleased her. She lay at his side, naked and abandoned, her legs splayed, her arms, pale and beautiful, reaching up for him. She was, he realized, a very lovely girl. She was wealthy and she spoke well and yet, underneath the veneer, John sensed there lurked a street girl, a common hussy who would lie with any man. The thought excited him. He rolled onto her and Polly closed her eyes in ecstasy.

This time, he was more restrained. He teased her and made her beg for release and, when it came, she thrashed beneath him drinking the sensations he was giving her, begging for more.