Free His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish by Louise Allen Page A

nun.
    ‘Enough. I have no wish to hear you make things worse by lying to me. I most certainly cannot have a woman of your character in this house. Your antecedents are bad enough, but this behaviour is the limit. You will leave at once.’
    ‘My character? But I have not done anything wrong. I can explain everything that occurred. It was all perfectly innocent. And what about my employment?’ The room swam with shifting shadows, flickering candlelight, waves of disapproval. It was unreal; she was bone-weary. Tess wondered vaguely if she was going to faint. Perhaps they would put her to bed if she did and she would wake up in the morning and this would all be a dream.
    ‘You think that I could recommend you to any decent household? There is only one kind of employment for fallen women, my girl, and I suggest you go and seek it forthwith.’
    Not a dream. Fight back.
‘I did not
do
anything. I am not Lord Weybourn’s lover.’ Tess tried to stand up straight, find some authority in her voice. ‘I had an accident, hurt my ankle. He helped me, just as I said.’
And I do not want to be here, with you, you judgemental old witch
, she thought as a spark of anger burned through the confused fog of misery.
My antecedents, you horrible woman? Two parents who loved each other, who loved me? I am illegitimate—how is that my fault?
    ‘Lord Weybourn? Hah!’ Mrs Wolsey said. ‘One knows all about the likes of him. A society rakehell, I have no doubt.’
    ‘How does
one
know this?’ Tess enquired. How dare this woman judge Alex? ‘I hardly think you would move in the same circles as he does, ma’am.’ The tail end of her temper was almost out of her grasp now.
    ‘You insolent girl,’ Mother Superior snapped. ‘You will leave at once.’
    ‘To cast a sinner out into the night is hardly a very Christian act.’ Tess abandoned the effort to be civil, hobbled to the door and, with her hands full of the portmanteau and cat basket, somehow got it open. ‘But I would not stay here now if you begged me. Good evening to you both.’
    Behind her she heard a small bell ringing violently and the sound of Mrs Wolsey’s voice. She seemed to be gibbering with anger. Tess reached the front door before Sister Porteress caught up with her, flung back the bolts, stepped over the threshold and left the door swinging on its hinges. Moments later it slammed behind her with emphatic finality.
    ‘And I hope your righteous indignation keeps you warm at night,’ Tess muttered. In front of her was Golden Square, a white-stone statue at its centre glimmering faintly in the light from the lamps set outside the houses. Men muffled up against the dank mist hurried past, a cab rattled over the cobbles on the far side. A clock, quite close, struck nine.
    Tess put down her luggage to pull her cuffs over her knuckles. Her mittens felt as though they had been knitted out of thin cotton, not wool, and her toes were already numb.
    A woman walked slowly down the side of the square, so Tess picked up her things again and limped across to her. ‘Excuse me, can you tell me if there is anywhere near here where I can get lodgings? Only—’
    ‘Get off my patch,’ the woman hissed, thrusting her face close to Tess’s. She smelt of spirits and strong perfume. ‘Unless you want your pretty face marked.’
    ‘No, no, I don’t.’ Tess backed away and the woman stalked past with a swish of petticoats, only to slow to a hip-swinging saunter before she reached the corner.
    ‘Evening, my dear.’ A male voice behind her made her jump. ‘Feeling friendly, are you?’
    ‘No, I am not.’ Tess whirled round. ‘Go away or I’ll...set my cat on you.’ There was a feline shriek of indignation from the swaying basket and the man stepped aside and walked off hastily.
    ‘Sorry, Noel,’ she murmured. ‘We can’t stay here, it isn’t safe.’
    Perhaps if she found a hackney carriage the cab driver would take her to a respectable lodging house. There didn’t