Page 26 of What a Courtesan Wants
When he was with her, she found him quiet and poised, yet overflowing with power and seduction. Yet, in the moments when she’d first entered his shop, she’d seen him as a man of business, stern toward those who worked for him, much in the way he could be with her. When he’d looked upon his niece, she’d witnessed a fatherly affection. All these separate facets of him made her want to piece them together to form a total picture.
Aubrey seemed to have no problem answering, pulling his stool closer to the tub and reaching in to pluck out one of her feet. “That is a rather long story, but the short of it is … Hector Rowland was my godfather, but he has been dead some years. He left the business in my hands and I manage it on my own, though I’ve kept the name in his memory.”
Lucinda issued a soft sigh as he began rubbing at her ankles where his restraints had chafed the skin. “Come now. You can tell me the entire story. It isn’t as if I’m going anywhere just now.”
His lips twitched with an amused shadow of a smile, and he ran his thumb along the arch of her foot. “Rowland and my father were master and servant first and foremost, but they were also dear friends. If not for that, I might be serving as some lord’s valet.”
“You were a valet?”
“Not quite. I was in training to become one when my life was changed by my father’s friendship with Rowland. You see, before he was a valet to a London merchant, my father was a Loyalist who served with the company of the Black Pioneers. Before that, he was a slave in the colonies.”
Lucinda couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d struck her, yet Aubrey delivered that tidbit as he might speak of the weather or Mathematics. Such a leap in circumstances seemed incredible, but to him they would only make up the facets of his family history.
“He and my mother escaped captivity at the call of the British Army, who offered freedom to anyone who would fight for them against the Patriots. He told me once of how arduous their flight had been, how dangerous. Of the twenty who escaped along with them, only five made it across enemy lines and into the territory of Charleston, which was then occupied by the English. My father was young and strong, so they readily accepted him into the company, while my mother was put to work nursing the sick and wounded. They were separated when the Black Pioneers were attached to another, larger regiment and sent off to fight. I never knew my mother, but I imagine she must have expected him to never return. Many of the Loyalists did not.”
“What happened to her?” she asked as he released one foot and reached for the other.
“She died giving birth to my sister. I was but a babe in her belly when they undertook the voyage and was born right here in London. Ellen came a year after me. Mother had nearly died bringing me into the world, and just barely survived. Apparently, she was too weakened after that to withstand another birth. I’ve tried to remember her, but I was so young when she died, there is nothing other than the tales my father told me. But, as I was saying … my parents had arrived here with their freedom and with little else. Pensions had been promised to the Loyalists, but what my parents hoped would be enough to help them start a new life turned out to be nothing more than a mere pittance per annum. It was hardly enough to live on, and we spent years living in poverty in St. Giles. A few years after Mother’s death, my father found himself struggling to feed and clothe two children while surviving on his meager settlement … and this is where Hector Rowland came into our lives.”
He paused with his thumb pressed against her instep, his eyes taking on a dreamlike quality as he became lost in his memories.
“There was a charitable committee that had taken it upon themselves to improve the lives of the poor blacks of London, specifically those who had been abandoned following their service in the army. They raised funds to provide us with clothing and food, which my father was not too prideful to accept. It was on a day when we were going to a public house in Marylebone where we would be given a hot meal. There, we met Rowland, who happened to be there with his friends—men he hoped to convince to join the cause. It was his intention to show them what their contributions would mean to people like us. He took notice of Father for the care of his clothes and the cut of his hair. He’d taken work as an apprentice to a barber, and had become quite adept with a pair of scissors and razor, as well as a sewing needle. He always took great pains with his appearance, teaching us that being poor did not mean being without dignity. He owned only one suit of clothes, a few shirts, two pairs of shoes, and a single cravat. But, they were always clean and well cared for, and his hair always cut and neatly arranged with pomades he made himself—and he took the same care with Ellen and I. It was this that caught Rowland’s eye, and he took an interest in us. For weeks we would find him at that public house in Marylebone, eating bowls of stew as he and my father built a rapport. Eventually, he learned of my father’s plight, the death of my mother, all of it. I do not know if it was pity that drove Rowland, but it didn’t matter to my father and it doesn’t matter to me. All I know is that within a month of making each other’s acquaintance, he had offered my father a position as his valet.”
Lucinda began washing with a cake of scented soap, but remained silent, held rapt by Aubrey’s story and not wanting to miss a word of it. He rested his arms on the edge of her tub, his long fingers absently swirling in the water and creating ripples along the surface.
“Rowland didn’t seem concerned that my father came with two young children, and told him that when we were older there could be work for us too. In the meantime, he could leave us in the kitchens in the care of Mrs. Fitz the cook, who set us to any number of small, easy tasks. We spent our early years leaning to roll dough, slice vegetables, and assisting the scullions. Rowland wasn’t of the peerage, but he was a man of means, owning a very profitable shipping company and growing his fortune through speculation. He owned a fine townhouse, where we lived in relative luxury compared to our lodgings in St. Giles. We were warm and fed, and my father was content. In the years that he served as Rowland’s valet, my father also became his friend and confidant. When I was eight years old, Father began teaching me the duties of a valet. Rowland had a son—Lucas—who would soon be old enough for his own body servant, and this was to be my new, permanent post. Ellen trained in the role of lady’s maid, though Rowland’s wife had died and there was no lady of the house for her to tend. She would be found a post in another household when she was ready.”
“Is this where your interest in textiles began?” she asked, dipping her head back to rinse her hair.
“It is,” he replied. “Rowland owned some of the finest clothes I’d ever seen, and I’d often go into his dressing room just to run my fingers over the brocade of his waistcoats, or feel the silk of his breeches. My father taught me the differences between all the fabrics and how they were to be treated and cleaned, and I learned everything from how to polish a pair of boots until I could see my reflection in them, to replacing buttons, brushing coats clean, and ironing cravats. Lucas and I became friends of a sort, playing together when I wasn’t about my duties. When I was baptized, my father asked Rowland to stand as my godfather, and he was happy to do so. He doted on me, and over time took as much an interest in me as he had my father. I’d begun learning to read and displayed a good head for figures, so it was decided that I ought to receive a proper education. I spent my mornings learning about the care of a man’s wardrobe from my father, and my afternoons attending lessons with Lucas under his tutor. My father worried that I would not be able to hold my own in the same sphere as Lucas, but it did not take long for me to catch him up. Before long, I was learning Latin and French along with the other typical subjects. And when Lucas was sent off to university, I was sent with him—Rowland made a sizable donation to have me included.”
“What of Ellen?”
He grinned. “Interestingly enough, she had no desire to become a lady’s maid. But the skills she had learned were enough to earn her a position as an assistant to a seamstress. The post also came with a room over the shop she could rent for only a few pounds a year. She was always independent, our Ellen, and soon built her own life, happy to visit with us on our evenings off, or on Sundays following church. She married young, falling in love with a clerk who worked in a barrister’s office across the street from her shop. Elizabeth was born a few years after their union.”
“Good for her,” Lucinda said, smiling to imagine a woman with Aubrey’s regal dark looks—striving to succeed and doing it all on her own. “It must have been easier for you to go off to university then, knowing that Ellen had settled well.”
“It was, at least those first few years. But, my father fell ill while I was away, and Rowland wrote to assure me that I shouldn’t worry. He wanted me to remain at university and allow him to care for Father. I trusted Rowland, so of course I remained, while he hired on a new valet and forced my father to retire. He spent his last months cared for by a doctor and by Ellen. I was able to visit to see him one last time. When I returned for his funeral, Rowland allowed me a few weeks to grieve before insisting I return to school. He told me I had potential that needed fostering, and a mind for business that could see me go farther in life than a valet from the stews. It was what my father wanted—to see me have a good and comfortable life. I’d been born free in London, and Father wanted me to have everything such freedom could afford me.”
“They both sound like wonderful men,” Lucinda said, sitting up in the tub and leaning forward, entwining her fingers with Aubrey’s. “It is no wonder you turned out so well.”
He squeezed her hand as he went on. “I completed university and returned to London with Lucas, after which Rowland offered us the chance of taking a grand tour. He was a lot like my father, you see. He hadn’t been born a slave, of course, but he had come from humble beginnings, and now that he’d established his own business and wealth, he wanted Lucas to be elevated even above his own place in the world. He had the money, even if he did not have a title or any such illustrious family connections, but it was enough to push Lucas into the right circles. We toured France, Italy, and Greece with a group of young men, some of whom were the sons of barons and viscounts, with Lucas aspiring to find his way into their ranks. He had no interest in his father’s business—which had expanded to include several warehouses which he rented out to other shipping companies, as well as Rowland’s Linen Warehouse in Cheapside.”
“What a shame,” she remarked as he helped her step from the tub. “He ought to have been proud to take part in what his father built from scratch.”
Aubrey shook his head while wrapping her in clean toweling, taking up another sheet with which to dry her hair. “For Lucas to find a place in high society was what Rowland wanted, and he couldn’t do that while working in trade. With his connections made during our tour, Lucas was moving in more elevated circles, which left a place at Rowland’s right hand for me. He took me under his wing, teaching me the business of linen-draping and haberdashery, telling me his vision for the place. He traded only in linens at first, but intended to extend into all manner of accoutrements, making his warehouse into a place a person could gather all they needed without the need to visit multiple establishments. After my apprenticeship with him ended, I was made a full partner in the business, and the shop became Rowland-Drake.”
“When did he die?” she asked, reaching for the clean nightgown she’d draped over the privacy screen hiding them from the rest of the room.
“Four years ago, which left the business entirely in my hands. And that’s when things began to change. In case you hadn’t noticed, London is now overrun with drapers, each one competing with the other. It became more difficult than ever to stand head and shoulders with them from Cheapside, so much of society wishing to do their shopping in more illustrious parts of town.”
“Thus, you moved to Leicester Square?”
“Yes. But even that did not come without its share of trials. We aren’t the only draper in the area, and for a time our wares weren’t as fine as some of the others. It took years for us to be able to earn our place as one of the better establishments in Town.”
A sudden thought occurred to Lucinda. “Is that why you became a courtesan? To save the business?”
He sank onto her bed, watching as she settled at the vanity and began stroking a brush over her damp hair. “Among other things. There is also my niece, who has been my ward these past sixteen years.”
