Then he’d weave his way amongst the throng of tearful well-wishers who crowded the quay and say the no-doubt gruff and loveless farewell that would see him part from his father.

Salty spray borne upon the stiff breeze mingled with the lightly falling snow.

“I will never forget you, Hugo,” she whispered into his waistcoat. “Even if I never see you again.”

The ground was covered in a blanket of white and the sky was already black, heavy clouds obscuring the stars.

“In two years, I will come back and claim you. One year, if I’m able. You must believe that, Charity.”

She believed the sentiment was as heartfelt as it sounded but she didn’t believe for one moment that Hugo would appear before her on a cold December day like this one and make good his claim.

“You must do what is best for you, Hugo, and if you meet someone who — ”

“No!” He shook his head, his tone fierce. “If I marry, I will marry you, Charity. You must believe it. I might have failed miserably to look after you as I should have done but when I come into my inheritance and am master of my finances, I will do whatever it takes to see you shine in a position that does you honour.”

He brought his mouth down in a kiss that was as branding as it was tender. Hugo was gentle but he was determined and he was full of fervour.

And so young. Yet what he lacked in age and experience, he made up for in so many other ways.

Reluctantly she stepped back. “You must go, my love. Your father is here. I see him looking for you.”

“Then let him see me with you. It might help reinforce the futility of his reasons for sending me away.” Hugo took her by the hand and led Charity into the open, just as his father turned in their direction. For a moment they locked glances, then Mr A

dams looked away.

With a smile, Hugo brushed her cheek with his hand. “You are exquisite, Charity. I’m never prouder than when I have you by my side.” He bent for one final kiss and as Charity wound her arms about his neck she wondered how she’d ever have the strength to let him go.

But she did. And only after he’d started walking away did she let the tears fall.

For Hugo needed to meet his fate with all the fortitude of which he was capable.

* * *

It surely was the saddest Christmas she’d ever spent. How could she join in the singing with the other girls at Madame Chambon’s when the carollers stopped beneath their window? How could she smile at the pink-cheeked children who threw snowballs in the park?

Her heart felt like a cold and empty vessel.

When Maisie tapped on her door and told her that a Mr Adams desired her company, she was torn between bursting out with laughter at his impudence, or weeping at the irony. What would bring this man, of all men, to her threshold after all that had happened?

So, of course, she sent a message making clear how unwelcome he was.

She just hoped and prayed that Madame remained as committed as she had earlier indicated to ensuring Charity’s employment did not include crossing any unwelcome thresholds.

Of course, Charity didn’t care that her clothes were the cast-offs of Madame’s girls. Or that she’d be engaged in menial drudgery for much of her day. Madame had made it clear that as long as Charity worked hard for her keep, she’d not turn her out. Hugo had paid the brothel-keeper a sum that had made her happy. For now.

However, on the third day, her faith in Madame’s uncharacteristic fidelity to Charity’s forthcoming Happily Ever After suffered its first major blow.

First of all, a summons to Madame’s study was an event to strike fear into any of her girls.

“Mr Adams has paid us his third visit in three days,” Madame told her. She’d always been one to come straight to the point and as she stood behind her desk resembling a lamp post through her posture and lack of emotion and the gimlet look in Madame’s eyes, Charity felt her faith in Madame’s loyalty to her cause, crumble.

“I’m very glad he’s not come to see me,” Charity said, dropping her eyes to her scuffed boots, swallowing down her fear as the heat rose through her body. Fear. No, terror of why Madame had summoned her.

“Of course he’s here to see you, girl! He knows the position you’re in and he’ll keep coming back. He’s a persistent one.”

“I have nothing to offer him.” Charity raised her chin and sent Madame a warning. Didn’t they have an agreement? “Hugo left only three days ago.”

“And he might never come back. Oh, he’s left sufficient for your upkeep for a short while. I’m not about to send you into the jaws of this wolf, or any other, for that matter. But my dear girl, let me just remind you that money doesn’t last forever. It doesn’t grow on trees. Perhaps it might be as well to cultivate Mr Adams. He is a man of means, after all. And he’s made it clear that he intends to be very generous.”

Tags: Beverley Oakley Fair Cyprians of London Historical
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