The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [103]
He bowed his head, to acknowledge her confidence, but said nothing.
Emily laughed nervously. ‘It’s a terrible habit. I’m sorry. I must stop prying.’
Pyke wondered whether his discomfort at having to discuss personal matters was as obvious as Emily made it seem.
An awkward silence followed. ‘Did you know that most people believe an unmarried woman in her early thirties has failed to reach her potential?’ Emily seemed to be saying it as a challenge.
‘What potential might that be?’
‘To sire my future husband’s children, I suppose.’ It seemed to amuse her.
‘And to provide your father with an heir.’
‘You, too, are very perceptive.’ The humour left her expression. ‘My father has lined up a suitor and told me I’m to marry him before the year’s out. He said it’s high time, as you put it, that I provided him with an heir.’
‘Have you met this man?’ Pyke asked quickly.
‘I am led to believe he has certain political ambitions but I have refused even to learn his name.’ She seemed genuinely aggrieved. ‘I think it’s absurd that a woman in my position should even consider getting married, given the hopelessly inequitable laws of this country. You know that a married woman cannot own property, or retain control of her own earnings? She has the legal status of a minor and can’t divorce her husband, even if he beats her and even though he can divorce her for no good reason.’ She grew more serious. ‘Most of the men I meet are either rich and stupid or poor and desperate and see me as their ticket to a life of wealth and glamour.’
Pyke pulled her into his stare. ‘I am certainly not rich and I would hope I’m not stupid.’
‘I would not characterise you as poor or desperate, either.’
‘Where does that leave me, then?’
‘I don’t know.’ She laughed gently. ‘Somewhere in the middle.’
‘Is that a good place to be?’
‘I would say so.’
Pyke edged closer to her. ‘Here might be an even better place to be.’ He wanted to touch her cheekbones, run his finger down to her lips . . .
‘Perhaps, but . . .’ Emily stood up and turned to face him. ‘But it is late and I am aware that in my keenness to solicit your company, I must have kept you from other engagements.’
‘None as pressing as this one, I can assure you.’ Pyke noticed she was blushing ever so slightly. ‘But I am certain I have detained you far too long.’
‘It is surely I who have detained you . . .’
‘Then I have thoroughly enjoyed being detained.’ He stood up and prepared to leave. ‘Perhaps you might detain me again on some future occasion?’
This time her gaze was cool. ‘You make me sound like a Newgate gaoler.’
He laughed heartily. ‘You have seen such figures in person, as I have, and should be in little doubt that their poise, sophistication and elegance are something mere mortals such as ourselves cannot hope to aspire to.’
Emily flashed him a wicked stare. ‘What? You don’t think I’d like to lock you up and throw away the key?’
‘In the condemned block at Newgate?’
Her eyes glistened in the candlelight. ‘Actually, I was thinking of more comfortable surroundings.’
NINETEEN
‘What a perfectly delightful place this is,’ Godfrey said, pushing open the door to Pyke’s garret in the Old Cock tavern. ‘First, I had the good fortune to interrupt a young couple rutting in the alley outside and then, when I had to relieve myself, I discovered what appeared to be a pool of blood on the floor.’ Godfrey had put on some weight in prison and waddled around the small bed to greet him.
Clasping Pyke’s shoulders, he looked at him and said, ‘It’s wonderful to see you, dear boy. Veritably, I did not imagine I would get this opportunity. You look different. Leaner. And the hair, or the absence of hair . . .’ He ran his hands across Pyke’s head. ‘Very becoming.’
‘And it’s good to see you, too.’ Pyke meant it. He was glad to see his uncle. ‘When did you get out?’
‘Last week, dear boy. It was unexpected, I have to say. Geoffrey Quince, the lawyer whose services you so miserably failed to retain, claims