A Fall from Grace - Maggie Ford (have you read this book TXT) 📗

again and again the baby that had been taken from her. Where was she now? A woman’s voice, high-pitched and raucous, calling up from downstairs roused her.

‘Miss… what’s-yer-name, Wyndham, there’s some bloke darn ’ere wants ter see yer!’

At the cry, Madeleine leapt up. A man! James? Please God let it be. A glance in the mirror showed her that she looked awful. Quickly she ran a comb through her now short hair, pinched her cheeks to make them look pink, bit her lips hard to give them more colour, then hurried downstairs, her landlady’s voice still screeching impatiently up at her.

At the sight of her, the woman left the open door to retreat back into her downstairs parlour leaving James standing there beaming.

‘I thought you might like this,’ he said, holding towards her a large colourful bag bearing the name Harrods. ‘A little present for you from me, which I hope you will accept, my dear, but I saw it and couldn’t resist. I hoped you were at home. Couldn’t wait until I saw you on Friday.’

He was talking fast, almost as if out of breath as he thrust the bag at her, compelling her to take it from him.

‘Must be off!’ he went on as if there wasn’t a moment to spare. ‘Need to be somewhere – business. Shall I see you on Friday, eight o’clock? I shall be here on the dot to pick you up,’ he added as she nodded automatically. ‘Please wear it. I plan to take you somewhere very special for the evening. And I also need to have a serious talk with you.’

He leaned forward, surprising her by planting a brief peck on her cheek before turning and hurrying back to the waiting motor car.

Madeleine stood half stunned at the open door as the vehicle moved off, one or two people staring at the unusual sight of such a grand motor having pulled up outside one of the tenements during the daytime.

Still feeling the kiss on her cheek, she closed the door and went back upstairs, her heart pounding. He’d said he would see her on Friday. All that fretting! Moments later her heart had sunk. Was it only to say he didn’t want to see her again, the gift a mere thank you present?

In her room she opened the bag. A tissue-wrapped parcel lay inside. Slowly she reached in, pulled it out, laying the bag aside to unwrap the flimsy package. Seconds later she gasped, holding up a beautiful evening gown, rich blue brocade with a raised pattern of silver thread throughout, sleeveless, a high waist, a décolletage not too low but, suitable for any evening occasion.

‘I can’t accept this!’ she burst out to the four walls.

But to refuse it, he’d be so hurt. Yet to accept it, what sort of message might that convey? She dared not think.

The only thing she could do was to make it plain that acceptance didn’t come with a willingness to participate in what was at this moment racing through her mind. He wanted her to wear it, had made a point of asking her to, so she had no choice but to do as he’d asked. She would of course thank him when they met on Friday but explain that it was not really proper for a young lady to accept presents from a man in this way. But on Friday he had another surprise for her.

As his limousine bore them towards the theatre in Covent Garden – she had once told him how much she enjoyed listening to orchestral concerts – he said suddenly, ‘I’ve been thinking, my dear, the place at which you are currently living, I really do not feel it entirely suitable for a young lady of gentle upbringing. I have it in mind to find you somewhere far more suitable.’

In the darkness of the vehicle, she half smiled. ‘It’s a lovely idea, James, except that I can’t afford anywhere else and…’

‘You’ve no need to worry,’ he broke in. ‘I know your circumstances do not allow you any better accommodation but you have me now and I would be more than happy to take care of the rent for you.’

Madeleine caught her breath. On the point of crying out that she had no intention of being a kept woman, she curbed herself in time. Instead she said as steadily as she could, ‘I don’t think that would be quite the right thing to do.’

She could sense rather than see him staring at her in the darkness of the vehicle. ‘Why on earth not, my dear?’

‘Because… well, it’s not right,’ she stammered. ‘It’s as though…’

She floundered to a stop at a loss how to express what she was trying to say then began again. ‘You’ve always been a complete gentleman toward me but if you began paying my rent for me it wouldn’t take long for people to begin making something out of it and doubt your good intentions – tarnish your good name.’

She heard him draw a deep breath. ‘That never crossed my mind but I understand what you mean.’

Was he being truthful? Madeleine’s mind raced. Knowing she was what many people once termed a ‘fallen woman’ and even today those ideas hadn’t changed, could he be harbouring some hope that she’d prove easy as time went on? If so he was in for a shock. She had fallen once through her own silly innocence. No longer innocent she certainly wasn’t prepared to allow herself to fall even lower.

She became aware that he was speaking. ‘There is another alternative, my dear. I might write to your father and request that if only for charity’s sake he might increase your allowance so that you may enjoy far more suitable accommodation.’

‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘My father is not your affair.’

She knew immediately that she’d hurt him as he leaned back into his seat. Almost apologetically she said, ‘Oh, James, I didn’t mean it to sound as it did. I meant…’

How could she explain what she