3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

T he pleasure gardens at Vauxhall were a sight to behold on any given night, but with the promise of spring just around the corner, they were heavy with anticipation. There were amusements of every kind, from dancing to pantomimes, to a hot air balloon that would take guests up for a bird's-eye view of London. Of course, the main point was to see and be seen, and the fashionable people of the ton were out in force as soon as the weather permitted.

Beatrice, ever a performer, was quite happy to be seen and admired on the arm of Judge Horner. His position was not the highest in the land, but he had built himself grand holdings and dined with some of the highest-ranking families. It was also no secret that he was in line for a title from an ailing and distant uncle.

They perambulated slowly, with nearly everyone they passed stopping to stare as they walked by. Beatrice, with her dancer's ability, managed to walk in such a way that it was less a mode of transportation and more a graceful undulation. Judge Horner, straight-backed and in a tall black hat, cut an imposing figure next to her. Several people approached him, but he did not hesitate to stare down those that he felt were not up to snuff. Thus, only those with something to offer, be it money, position, or title, were permitted in his presence.

They had dined well, and the judge had seen to it that Beatrice was never without a glass of champagne, decorated with candied violets floating on the top. Beatrice did not drink deeply, but she enjoyed the way the bubbles tickled her tongue as she sipped. They paused, watching a troupe of acrobats that had been shipped in from India. They wore bells on their ankles so that every athletic feat they performed was accompanied by jaunty jingling.

"A skill that is beyond even you, I think," Judge Horner said at last, ducking his head closer to Beatrice's.

She nodded absently, watching the performance intently. Fascinated, she could not take her eyes from their hands and feet, arched into unfamiliar shapes. She tilted her head, the feathers on her silk bonnet arching over her ear as she did so.

There was a slight tugging on her arm, and she was brought back to herself. The judge was staring down at her with all the warmth of a marble statue. Beatrice blinked up at him, aware that he had likely been saying something. He was not the sort of man who liked being ignored—that was the whole reason for his chasing after a woman like Beatrice.

"I'm sure you're right," she said at last, smiling one of her coy little smiles up at him.

"Perhaps you might like to see the maze?" he offered, glancing about. "It is bound to at least be quieter; we might then hear each other speak."

Beatrice glanced toward the lower half of the gardens where an impromptu hedge maze was being cultivated. It was not yet complete, the hedges still being pruned into shape. There were no lights to speak of, just the overflowing glow from the gardens proper. She bit her lip, considering. It would leave them both open to rumour, but if she were being honest, she was already a somewhat infamous woman in London.

She glanced up to the judge and found him still impassively staring down at her. "If nothing else, it will keep the more impudent of the prying eyes away," he said with a significant sweep of his eyes to their surroundings.

Beatrice, too, looked about and found that they had become something of a side attraction themselves. The ton were all staring at them, some whispering behind gloved hands and fans. Beatrice did not mind that—was rather used to it, in fact—but she was rather perturbed that it was detracting attention away from the splendid performance in front of them. As a performer herself, she was incensed.

"Let us adjourn, then, Your Honour," Beatrice sniffed, putting her nose into the air and her free hand atop the judge's elbow.

Gratified, Judge Horner led the two of them into the maze. The moment that they turned the first corner, the sounds from the wider gardens were considerably dulled. Though the hedges were not completed yet, they still had something of an insulating effect, making Beatrice feel as if she had stepped through a doorway into a different world. Unconsciously, she seized tighter onto the judge's elbow.

He chuckled a little, but it was not a sound of amusement. Beatrice had the distinct impression that he was having a laugh at her expense, and she immediately loosened her grip in spite of her misgivings. Nevertheless, she refused to let him see that she was uncertain, and she sallied forth as if she knew precisely where she was going.

The path, however, being gravel was proving rather more of a challenge than she had expected. She had only gone a few paces when a pebble became lodged in her shoe, causing her to wince. Windmilling a little with one arm, she sought purchase on the hedge as she attempted to balance on one foot.

"Is something the matter?" the judge asked, looming uncomfortably close to Beatrice.

"No, it's nothing to be concerned over," Beatrice said with a casual wave of one hand. "Simply a stone in my shoe. If I had known the terrain would be so questionable tonight, I'd have worn my walking boots."

"Ah, but then you would have deprived me of the chance to come to your rescue," the judge said, taking her hand and kneeling in the gravel.

Though he spoke chivalrously, there was something malignant in his face as he knelt before Beatrice. Her heart was fluttering wildly in her chest, and she had the strangest impulse to simply take off and run. She tamped down the urge, covering her unease with a smile.

The judge, meanwhile, had released Beatrice's hand, and taken her foot into both of his hands. Sliding her shoe off, he made a casual effort at shaking out the offending pebble, but made no hurry about it. With his long fingers wrapped about her ankle like a shackle, balanced on her other foot, she was well and truly caught.

He glanced up at Beatrice, and there was something predatory in those eyes. She'd seen engravings of giant reptiles from Africa, monsters that lay in wait in the water, biding their time, and then would spring forth, snapping their jaws around unsuspecting passers-by. It was all too easy for her to believe that she was in great danger of being pulled beneath the murky water just now.

As if sensing her unease, the judge laid her shoe aside carelessly. His grip on her ankle tightened as she attempted to slide it from his grasp. He tutted a little, chuckling mirthlessly again.

"No, no, my pretty one," he said. "You have led me on a merry chase these last months, and I was content to chase you...for a while."

"And now?" Beatrice asked, swallowing hard, refusing to let her voice betray any of her nerves.

"Now," the judge continued, his white teeth flashing in the dark, "I have caught you, and it is time for you to make good on your end of our little arrangement."

"I do not recall entering into any arrangement ," Beatrice insisted, trying again to slide her foot away from the judge.

Though he chuckled again, his fingers tightened cruelly around her ankle, the bones in her foot beginning to grind together painfully. Beatrice refused to cry out, lifting her chin defiantly. "Now, you know as well as I do how this sort of thing is meant to work." His dark eyebrows knitted together a little, his mouth firming into a cruel slash. "I believe that you also know that I have within my power to end your career, here and now."

"And how will you manage that?" Beatrice scoffed. "As if anyone will be put off by a dancer with a questionable reputation—it's practically a requirement."

Judge Horner shifted his grip so that his thumb was pressing into the soft little hollow where the front of her leg met her ankle, causing Beatrice to wince. "You misunderstand me," he said. "Though I have no doubt that I could make things uncomfortable for you in the manner that you suggest, I had something more... direct in mind." He finished the sentence by pressing his thumb in harder.

Fear, real and sickening, slid through Beatrice's stomach. She had a very visceral paranoia about losing her ability to provide for herself, losing her gateway to independence. Instinctively, she attempted to wrest her leg away from Horner again, but to no avail.

Yanking her leg back down, he shifted and stood abruptly, nearly unbalancing Beatrice completely. His hands snaked about her waist, closing like vices of iron along her sides. "I do admire your spirit, little minx, but it is time to stop playing coy," he said, pulling her in close against him.

For all of her fear, it was anger that flashed up in Beatrice's eyes. This seemed to amuse him, for he smiled cruelly down at her again, finding her stiffening posture an incentive to keep pressing his advantage. Beatrice reasoned that it was likely that no one had ever told him no before, and her resistance was as intriguing to him as her shapely legs. He no doubt had done this little intrigue countless times before, and had grown bored with the ease with which he conquered other dancers and actresses. He had figured that for all of her control and distance, Beatrice would fold like all of the others.

What he had clearly not counted on was the fact that Beatrice was no ordinary theatre girl. She was renowned for her bright, shiny spine as much as her ability to turn neatly and leap higher than the other dancers. She'd made a vow to herself when she was younger that she would never allow herself to be at the mercy of a man.

The second thing that Judge Horner had not counted on was that while travelling through Italy with her former partner's dance troupe, they had crossed paths with a group of men from the Far East. Beatrice, the consummate student of human movement, had been fascinated by a series of strange exercises they did. She had also been intrigued by a particularly slight man that all of the others gave a wide berth. He had liked the way that she poured tea, and she had liked the way that he moved through the world without fear, despite his size.

Right in this moment, however, she mostly liked that he had taught her the simplest and easiest means of breaking someone's nose. With her fingers curled back, revealing the firm lower edge of her palm, she struck neatly and quickly, thrusting her hand upward into the tip of Horner's nose. Her erstwhile teacher had referred to it as a tiger's paw , which Beatrice was quite tickled by.

She was also immensely gratified by the way that the judge's head snapped back, his eyes watering as blood immediately began to pour from his nose, black and shining in the dark. He released Beatrice immediately to cradle his face; Beatrice took advantage of this to sweep up her discarded shoe, and scampered a few paces away.

Horner, still bleary-eyed, swung out wildly with one hand, grasping for Beatrice. He swore all the while, calling her every foul name he could think of.

"Really, Your Honour, I'd have thought you'd have more imagination than that," Beatrice said. "I've had worse insults slung at me by altar boys."

Irate, he looked up, his grey eyes burning. His shirt front and crisp white cravat were both thoroughly ruined, a surprising amount of blood pouring forth from his nose. Idly, Beatrice wondered if she might have broken it.

"You will regret this," he spat, attempting to staunch the flow from his nose with a hastily dug out handkerchief.

"I regret many things, Judge Horner," Beatrice said coolly, sounding infinitely more composed than she was currently feeling. "I doubt that this will be one of them." With a proud toss of her head, she turned her back on him, shoulders confidently back. As if she were out for nothing more than a Sunday turn about the park, she sauntered leisurely away.

At least, she did until she reached the first turn in the maze; after she had ensured that she was out of his line of sight, she picked up her feet earnestly, lifting her hem a little and dashing back to the main part of the gardens. She did not stop until she was back among the crowd.

In spite of her brave words, she could not believe what she had just done. She attempted her usual calm, dispassionate veneer, but she kept her hands clutched together tightly to ensure they would not visibly tremble.