Chasing Eliza (Cavendish Mysteries 3)

She was pretty enough. He could understand why Peter was so absorbed by her, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand why she would want to remain hidden. What kind of trouble was she in? He eyed her feminine curves with masculine appreciation. If she was Jemima, then as far as Edward was concerned she was as far out of his reach as humanly possible. He wouldn’t touch someone who had captured his brother-in-law’s heart.

He studied her as she took a quick break behind the bar. She was turned towards him, giving him a full view of her face. He drank in her features, the tiredness was evident but there was also defiance in the upward tilt of her chin that was impressive. Despite her exhaustion and the difficult circumstances in which she worked, there was still a calm resolution in her face. Even knowing that a brief dalliance between them wasn’t possible, he felt a surge of almost pride for her fortitude. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what price she paid for her hardened resolve. Given the world-weary cynicism he had seen in her face earlier, he considered it a shame that such beauty was tarnished by her brutal lifestyle and wondered if removing her to Leicestershire was indeed the best thing for her.

Regardless of his masculine interest in her and his sympathies for her current situation, he knew there could be nothing between them, however fleeting. If she was indeed Jemima, then she was Peter’s intended bride and far out of his reach. If she was Eliza, then she wasn’t the kind of woman for a brief dalliance and the last thing she needed was to be seduced by her future brother-in-law.

He cringed inwardly as the prospect of marriage loomed darkly before him. With a shudder he quickly closed the notion off and turned his attention back to his drink. It was best for everyone if he just discovered her secrets and then left. It was down to Peter then to find out who she really was.

Later that evening, having drunk as much of the watered brandy as he could stand, he made his way out of the tavern to use the privy at the rear of the property. Nobody noticed him melt into the shadows and minutes later enter the back corridor of the tavern, and it was just the way he liked it.

Not only was the tavern run-down and barely habitable, it was located in one of the most disreputable areas of Derby. One didn’t go anywhere without something sharp to hand with the chances of being relieved of your valuables being increased tenfold. He had learned long ago that being able to move around undetected had its benefits and in a location such as this, could undoubtedly safe not only his purse strings, but his life.

The long, dark corridor ran the length of the inn, with several doors opening to one side. As he entered, the raucous sounds of revelry from the main tap rang loudly in the air, but it was the conversation being held in one of the side rooms that commanded his immediate attention.

He paused, and melted into the shadows to listen.

“I won’t do it, I told you.” Her voice was loud and defiant as it rang hollowly down the empty corridor.

“And I told you missy that I expect you to take your place upstairs.”

Unless Edward was much mistaken, the man Eliza was talking to was Bernard, the innkeeper. Edward leaned his broad shoulders against the rough stone wall and waited.

“You are not turning me into one of your whores.”

Even from outside of the room, Edward could hear the tinge of fear that laced her voice, and mentally cursed the lumbering brute of a man who would try to force her to such depravity.

“You will do as you are damned well told girl. You are under my roof, and are bloody useless as a wench. No customer of mine wants their ale thrown at ‘em. I got customers who will pay good money for a turn with you, and you’ll give ‘em what they want. Do you hear me? You will - or you will leave.” Bernard’s voice was unrelenting as he lay down his orders, clearly expecting to bully her into submission.

“Then pay me what you owe me and I will leave.” Eliza spat defiantly, refusing to be pushed. “I have been working here for months and you haven’t paid me a penny.”

“I’ve been putting a roof over your head ain’t I? I’ve fed you, and put up with you throwing drinks at my customers? And now you want paying!” Bernard laughed harshly. “You’ll get nothing from me gal; nothing but the back of my hand.”

“I’m not being a whore and that’s final.”

Eliza gasped as despite his ample girth, Bernard moved swiftly across the room and grabbed her chin in a rough hold, pushing his face close to hers. She could see the vile lust burning in the depths of his black eyes and shivered in alarm. She remained stubbornly motionless as his heavy body pushed her against the wall as his wet, sloppy lips landed over hers. His hot, putrid breath was enough to make her feel sick and Eliza immediately fought to free herself. But her smaller stature and lighter weight was no match against his girth and she made little headway in releasing his brutal hold. Tears flooded her eyes as a meaty paw grasped roughly at her breast and began to squeeze tight.

The slamming of a door seemed to break Bernard’s attention away from her for several seconds and it was all Eliza needed to create some distance between them. Quickly lifting her knee, she pushed roughly at his shoulders and issued him a healthy smack on the side of his head. Her fury burned, as she wiped her wet mouth with the back of her hand.

“If you ever touch me again, I will kill you.” She spat, her voice cold.

“You’ll pay for that.” Bernard snarled, holding his privates tenderly. “You’ll bloody well do as you are told. Get upstairs, you are taking your first customer or you get out of this Tavern now.”

“Pay me what you owe me and I’ll leave.” Eliza gasped as her cheek stung from the force of the slap Bernard dealt her.

“You give the clients what they want and if I hear of any arguments, you won’t be fit for purpose by the time I’m through with you. It’s either them or me, or the streets. Take your pick.”

Eliza swallowed against the lump in her throat and wondered if she was going to lose the contents of her nearly empty stomach all over his boots. It would serve him right if she did. She thought to herself as she stared at him blankly. His orders given, Bernard clearly considered the subject dropped and returned to work, disappearing down into the cellar with a grunt.

In the silence of the room, Eliza fought to choke down a sob and took a moment to steady her nerves.

That was it then, she had no choice now. She had to leave but where could she go? Jemima had vanished and was God only knew where. Her father was dead and without the pay Bernard owed her, she had no money to live off. She simply could not leave until she had the wages that were rightly hers.

But to get hold of the money from Bernard’s desk, she needed to remain at the tap until it had closed, then she could leave in the night without risk of being caught. Given the part of the city the tap was located in, it was incredibly risky for any woman to be out on the streets but she really had no other choice.

Unfortunately that left her with a problem of how to get through the rest of the evening without meeting the clients Bernard intended to send up. She simply was not going to become one of Bernard’s working girls. She had not been paid anything since her arrival; the food she had been given was meagre at best and the work endless and exhausting. But the girls upstairs were in an even worse position.

Her thoughts briefly turned to the man in the corner of the tap room but she immediately dismissed the possibility of seeking his help. He could be working for Scraggan, and couldn’t be trusted. If he wasn’t one of Scraggan’s cohorts, he was clearly gentry and he wanted Jemima, not her. No matter how handsomely menacing he was, she couldn’t expect a stranger to step in and help her.

She staggered out of the room, her eyes blank with horror as the reality of her current predicament dawned on her. Having issued his orders, Bernard clearly wasn’t expecting her to go back to serving in the tap room – it was enough to buy her the time to collect her few meagre belongings. She was lost in thought, trying to figure out how to get out of the tavern without being seen preferably before Bernard sent up her first ‘client’, and didn’t notice the man dressed in black move silently into the room she had just left and quietly close the door.