Read Online The American Heiress by Daisy Goodwin - Free Book Online Page A

Georgina – you know, the one who was in India. I never thought to wear it before but, faced with all those American sparklers, I didn’t want to appear dowdy.’
    ‘Pearls before swine, eh?’ He put the brush down, and pulled back her hair so he could kiss her neck. ‘Such a pity I lost you today at the meet. Where did you get to?’ Odo began to pull the fastenings of her peignoir.
    ‘Oh, I don’t know, my stirrup kept twisting and by the time I had fixed it, you had gone. Had to spend hours dodging that buffoon Cannadine.’
    Odo squeezed her nipple hard. ‘Cannadine indeed. Poor Charlotte. But you know I don’t like it when you disappear. I shall have to punish you.’
    He picked up the hairbrush.

    In the servants’ hall, Bertha was finishing her supper. She was eating some kind of pudding laced with currants. It was a dish that everyone else seemed to relish, but she found it hard going. She longed suddenly for an ice-cream sundae. That had been her treat on her afternoons off at home, ice cream from the drugstore in Newport. She would go there dressed up to the nines in one of Miss Cora’s fanciest cast-offs, with a parasol and a bonnet with a veil. Bertha could just pass for white, and in her secondhand Paris finery the man behind the counter was not about to question her colour. It was the combination of cold ice cream and hot chocolate sauce that made her gasp with pleasure. She couldn’t understand why Miss Cora, who could have all the sundaes she wanted, didn’t eat them night and day. That was luxury all right.
    There was a tap on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Jim. ‘Think you dropped this, Miss Cash.’ He put something in her lap. It was a handkerchief, not one of hers, inside which was a tiny screw of paper. She hid it up her sleeve as she knew that Druitt and Mrs Lawrence were watching her.
    As she walked out of the hall, she unfolded the note and read it by the light of her candle. In careful rounded script she read:
Meet me by the stables. I have something for you.

Yours ever,
Jim Harman

    He was waiting there by Lincoln’s stall, stamping his feet in the cold. When he saw her, his face relaxed into a smile.
    ‘You came then. Good girl. You won’t be sorry.’
    ‘I should hope not, I could lose my place for this.’
    ‘Look.’ Jim held out a clenched fist to her. Bertha hesitated. ‘Go on, open it’.
    Bertha pulled back his fingers one by one. There, on his outstretched palm, was a black pearl. Under the lamplight she could see its faint iridescent sheen like a slick of oil on a puddle. It was as big as a marble and almost perfectly spherical. Bertha took it and rubbed it against her cheek.
    ‘It’s so smooth. Where did you find it? You did find it, didn’t you?’ She looked at his face, hoping he would meet her eyes. He didn’t flinch.
    ‘I was waiting at table tonight, on account of it being such a big party, and just as I was coming round with the savoury, one of the ladies went and broke her necklace by fidgeting with it at the table. She thought she picked ’em all up but this one rolled under my foot and I stood on it tight until all the ladies went upstairs. I wanted to give it to you. You’re a black pearl, Bertha, that’s what you are and it’s only right that you should have it.’
    Bertha looked at him, astonished. No one had ever talked to her this way before. Honey talk, that’s what her mother would call it. ‘Honey talk is fine and dandy but make sure you get the ring first.’ Bertha’s mother had never had a ring though. The man who had seduced her had been white, so there was no question of marriage. Mrs Calhoun had kept her on in the laundry after Bertha was born. The Reverend called it an act of Christian charity, but Bertha’s mother never looked grateful. But Bertha did not pull away as Jim leant down to kiss her. It was different from all the other kisses she had had, softer, more tentative. His hands were holding her head as if it was made of