The Blighted Cliffs (6 page)

I
hardly expected sympathy from this creature, but I was a little put
out that her immediate response was to giggle, before belatedly
covering her mouth in a stab at decorum. 'Oh, you were the worse for
drink,' she confirmed, obviously remembering it with greater
amusement than I did. 'But don't worry, everyone that's new in Dover
suffers with it. It's the way they let it down.'

I
ignored her final comment, whose meaning I confess escaped me. 'Well,
I might have been past sobriety, but I still have no recollection of
asking you back this evening. I don't think I even know your name.
'And did I request your company this evening?'

'You
didn't,' she admitted, the laughter subsiding.

'And
as I very definitely recall closing my eyes while you left, I assume
you helped yourself to your fee, so that can hardly be outstanding. I
never met a jade who'd short-change herself.'

'I
suppose you didn't.' There was a brittle edge to her voice.

'Though
if you'd counted the coins in your purse, you'd have seen I didn't
take nothing! Perhaps if I'd known what you thought of me I would
have done, but I didn't. Not,' she added spitefully, 'that there was
much to pay for. A leer and a grope was all you were up to before you
collapsed in your sleep.'

The
passion of her outburst shook me almost as much as the words
themselves. 'So you mean,' I began, treading carefully and ' trying
not to be obtuse, though there was no delicate way of putting ' this,
'you're no whore?'

'Maybe
to you,' she spat, 'but I never sold myself, no.' Moisture glistened
in the corner of her eye.

I
was saved the risk of further ingallantries by a knock at the door.

'Bath
for Mr Jerrold,' called a voice outside.

'Blast!'
I panicked. 'Quick, hide yourself.'

'Where?'

I
looked around. There was no cupboard, and the curtains reached
nowhere near the floor. 'Under the bed.'

There
was another, more insistent knock. 'Mr Jerrold?'

'Why
should I?' asked the girl. 'You ashamed to be seen with me?'

I
shook my head irritably. 'My name in this town is, I suspect, already
rather poor, but I would prefer to avoid any further allegations.' No
doubt Stubb and Sir Lawrence could fashion a charge out of anything,
and I knew the sort of tricks a girl could pull once she'd been found
in a delicate situation.

She
made no movement.

'Think
of-your own reputation then,' I begged. 'You would not want others to
suffer from the same, unfortunate misapprehension as myself.'

That
thought clearly made an impact, but still she hesitated.

'And
I should be very grateful to you.'

Whatever
form she thought my gratitude would take, it was clearly something
that might be worth her while, for at that she slid off the bed and
into the shadow beneath it, allowing me to pull open the door and
only narrowly miss a punch in the nose from my impatient knocker.

'Bath
for you, sir?' He was a pimply youth, about fourteen, with a rat-like
face and gangly limbs. I stood aside to let him drag in the tub and
fetch the jug of steaming water. 'You can 'ave another jug for
tuppence,' he offered as he poured in the first, but I declined.

I
thought this the end of the business, but he made no sign of leaving,
and stood in the middle of the room shooting me suggestive little
glances.

Of
course. I pulled out my purse and found a ha'penny, which I pressed
into his hand. 'There you go,' I told him. 'You can come and collect
the tub in an hour.'

Still
he stayed, his eyes fixed firmly on some high place over my shoulder.
'Was there someone else in 'ere?' he enquired loftily, rather more
forward than his station allowed.

'Certainly
not,' I retorted. I saw his eyes flickering about the room. 'And even
if there were, what damned business would it be of yours?'

'Nothing,'
he said, scratching his nose. 'Only the landlord do charge a shillin'
if guests wants to bring company back to their rooms. "The wages
of sin", 'e calls it.'

'I'll
give you the wages of sin yourself if you don't disappear.' A mix of
guilt and indignation put anger into my voice, and after a pause just
long enough to be impertinent, the boy wisely retreated.

I
slammed the door after him. The girl rolled out from under the bed,
dust streaked over her thin white dress.

'Satisfied?'
she asked coldly.

'Perfectly,'
I answered, making a great effort at civility. 'Now, if you will
excuse me, I should like to take my bath.'

'Good
idea,' she agree
d.
'You smell like filth.'

'That's
because I've spent half the day rotting in the town gaol. The sooner
I can wash it away, the better.'

'I'll
scrub your back.'

I
sighed, seeing where this was leading. 'Thank you for your kind
offer, but I would prefer to bathe in privacy. Perhaps another time.'

'Please
yourself.' She tossed her head. 'But I can't leave yet. The boy eats
his dinner on the stairs about now, and if he sees me going down
he'll be sure to peach you to the landlord. But don't mind about me.
I'll just keep quiet in my corner.'

I
glared at her. 'That's ridiculous. I can't bathe in front of you, it
would be...'

'Embarrassing?'

'Indecent.'

She
smiled sweetly, and affected a gruff voice. 'Good God, sir, nothing I
haven't seen before, you know.' She dropped the mimicry.

'And
your water's getting cold.'

I
met her mocking gaze and held it, though within I was utterly
bewildered. If I forced her out I'd seem an incorrigible puritan, and
a hypocrite besides; if I didn't ... But what could she really do
laugh?

I
could manage that, surely. And the challenge in her face was
inescapable. With a sigh of frustration, I pulled off my shirt,
stockings and breeches and stood stark naked before her, staring
rigidly ahead and refusing to catch her eye, all the while hoping
that the dim room would hide my scarlet face. I noticed her mouth
twitch, but she had the restraint to keep silent, and after a few
more seconds in my classical pose - to prove that I was not the least
abashed - I stepped into the tub and lowered myself into the water.

She
watched me as I self-consciously splashed my face, then hopped off
the bed.

'Glad
you're cleaning yourself up, Mr Jerrold,' she said. 'I'd best leave
you to it.'

'What?'
Water flew over the side. 'What about the boy on the stairs?'

'I'll
use the back steps,' she replied blithely, and was skipping out of
the door before I could even hoist myself up. I had a momentary
vision of myself tearing through the corridors after her, naked and
dripping and screaming, and decided not to give chase. Little bitch,
I thought, reclining back in my bath. She'd played me for a fool,
though God knew what satisfaction she'd taken from it.

I
lay in the bath, as the water got colder and my legs grew stiffer,
glad that this horrible day was coming to a close. I'd lost count of
the humiliations I'd suffered, but I had survived them, and a new day
might bring new luck. Perhaps tomorrow I could set about restoring my
reputation with Crawley, and avoid any more unhappy entanglements
with the local judiciary. And that damned corpse from the beach, I
thought with relief, could be left to Stubb, to Sir Lawrence, or to
the Lord Chief Justice himself if he were so inclined. I was free of
it.

I
enjoyed that belief for a good ten hours, all through the night and
into the following morning, right until the moment when I heard the
pimply youth banging on my door, announcing that a letter had arrived
for me.

4

'JERROLD!'
THE LETTER BEGAN. PERHAPS THERE WAS NO exclamatory mark, but the
force of its intention was certainly there. And without even looking
at the signature, I knew immediately whence it came. Letters from my
mother invariably start 'My Darling Martin'; my father and I rarely
correspond. And the text I held left little room for doubt.

'You
despicable, odious, ungrateful little toad. After all the
considerable interest I have exercised on your miserable career,
often against my wiser judgment, at the behest of my poor sister,
your unfortunate mother, I have learned the most infamous news - of a
depredation which, I confess, even I had thought beyond you. Not
content with debasing the nobility of your birth and your corn
mission at every juncture, it would seem you are now become a common
criminal, or rather an uncommon one, for it is a most heinous and
wicked crime that you are charged with. The resulting scandal, should
it touch me, would be ruinous, both to my position and to the good
name of our family.

'My
patience with you is worn down by your prodigal dissipation of it,
but these charges are weighty, and I know that my sister, in her
innocence, would desire me to give you every chance of proving
yourself. I shall therefore - with, I need not say, the deepest
misgivings - extend you one last indulgence. Clear your name within
the fortnight, and no more shall be said. Otherwise, I shall not see
you hanged as a murderer, but shall arrange forthwith a station in
the Indies; there you can rot in obscurity until disease takes you.
Do not think that you can escape this fate you have heaped down upon
yourself by quitting the navy, for I shall not accept your
resignation; to do so would be to acquiesce in your guilt. If you
leave, you will be treated as a deserter.

'I
fear you are immune to moral supplication, but you would do well to
reflect upon the words of your commission: you may not fail, as you
will answer the contrary at your peril.

'I
remain, &c, your Affectionate Uncle...'

Trembling,
I put the letter down. The sneering insults I could
ignore: I had been hearing them for as long as I could remember. The
threat, though, was stark, and terrifying. If the magistrate got me,
I would hang. If I failed to exonerate myself, I would die of some
poisonous fever on the far side of the world. And if I ran, I would
be an outlaw, hunted by the authorities and navy alike as they vied
for the privilege of my execution. What sort of choice was that?

At
such a time, with such a dilemma, there was only one path open to me:
I went downstairs and called for brandy. Perhaps, I thought bitterly,
it would achieve the end that all around me so clearly anticipated.

The
taproom was empty so early in the morning, but after a few shouts and
thumps the boy, the bringer of baths and letters, appeared from the
kitchens.

'No
brandy,' he announced in a superior tone. 'S illegal, ain't it. Frog.
Unless,' he added surreptitiously, 'you're on the wink?'

'What?'
I asked, too distracted to pay him much notice. 'Well, if you've no
brandy, perhaps some gin.'