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“And my mother was left to provide for us on her own. Nobody talks about this when you start acting. Nobody warns you… But as an actress, the glamorous life of flowers and adoration does not last long. We need to provide for ourselves somehow. And unless one is popular and sought after, the only way to earn a good living is to become a mistress. But then the youth fades and…” She paused. “My mother was Tessa Brimmings. She never became a popular actress, but she became a very popular—”
Richard reared back and looked at Jo wide-eyed. “Tessa Brimmings? The most notorious harlot?” He grimaced. “Pardon… I didn’t mean—”
“You knew her?” Jo’s face was as pale as ash.
“Yes.” He nodded vigorously. “Everybody knew her.”
And everybody did. She was at the peak of her popularity when Richard came to London just out of the schoolroom. Many of his friends boasted about being introduced to the sensual arts by the very Tessa Brimmings.
Jo blinked stupidly, watching him as though he was an alien species and then it dawned on him what she probably thought.
“No!” he hastened to add. “That’s not—I didn’t know her personally. I just knew of her!”
“Oh!” Jo’s face relaxed. “Thank God!” she said on a chuckle.
Richard grimaced. “Did you think—?”
Jo nodded as she continued to laugh. “I did.”
“Thank God is right,” Richard grumbled and thanked the lord for never crossing paths with the notorious harlot. “How come you never told me?”
Jo let out a chuckle. “I never told anyone. Some old theater workers know, some fellow actors, but… I changed my name before my first big role. When I was younger, about twelve or thirteen, men always sniffed after me. And when they found out whose daughter I was, they immediately assumed that I was available for their amusement.”
Richard squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to imagine it. But a young, innocent, beautiful girl with chestnut brown hair popped into his mind, trying to fend off the advances of grown, lecherous men.
“When I changed my name, it got better. I stopped being associated with my mother. I thought I could make a name for myself.” She looked out into the distance. “But when I was seventeen, I met a man. A young and handsome baron. And I forgot my resolve not to be like my mother. He courted me so wonderfully. He brought flowers and sent me poems.”
“Nothing special about that,” Richard scoffed.
Jo smiled at him sadly. “But it was so very special to me. I was so young and inexperienced. He paid me so much attention that I thought… What’s wrong with enjoying some fun? He set me up in a beautiful townhouse, bought me expensive jewels and gowns. Brought me to lavish balls. I felt like a princess. Only later… Much, much later, I realized that none of that was for me. The townhouse was close to his, so he had access to me whenever he wanted. Beautiful gowns and jewels were to show off his generosity and his wealth to others. And I, well… I was just an accessory on his arm. A beautiful addition to all his riches. A trophy of his status.” She paused, then added emotionlessly, “He married a few months later. And I ended up on the street again.”
“What’s his name?” Richard growled with every intent of ripping that man to shreds.
She looked up at him calmly. “What does it matter? He was never going to marry me. None of the gentlemen are.”
A sharp pang originated in his chest. Yes. He was the bastard who was prepared to do the same. Wasn’t he?
He would never leave Jo, he tried to reason with himself, but his protestations sounded hollow to his own mind. Wasn’t he ready to keep her on the side, like a thing, while he married another woman?
So how was he better than that arse of a baron?
“I found out about the babe growing inside me a few weeks later,” Jo continued. “I didn’t know, but my fellow actresses noted the symptoms. They brought me to a doctor who confirmed it. And then they led me to an apothecary who fixed me a brew to restore my menses. Only it didn’t help. I was ill for a few days, but nothing happened. Then I went back for another brew. And another… By the third time, the apothecary looked at me as if I was a vile creature. He accused me of lying. He said that if his brew wasn’t working then I must have lied and was past the quickening.” A sob left her lips, and she wiped her tears. Then she glanced at him, a worried glint in her eyes. “I wasn’t lying.” Her voice was a whisper.
Richard cupped her cheek and wiped away the tears with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” His voice was hoarse.
She shook her head. “I need to. I never told this to anyone.”
Richard roamed in his pockets and took out a handkerchief. He wiped the tears away from her face and handed the cloth to her. “Then I shall listen.”
Jo stared down at the crisp white handkerchief in her hand as she spoke. “He handed me what he called abastard killer.” She sniffed, tears glinting in her eyes again. “I was to mix a few drops in water and drink it. And he said that if that didn’t work then I would need to seek an abortionist like the sinner that I was. The people at his shop overheard him and looked at me like I was some vile creature. But the apothecary didn’t stop. He said that if nothing worked, then surely I was committing a sin. After all, God wouldn’t let a soul suffer so long if it wasn’t a sin. But I wasn’t lying. I was frightened and confused, but I wasn’t lying.”
Richard wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tightly. But he wanted her to finish her story. He didn’t want to interrupt her. She needed this, she’d said. And perhaps, he needed to hear it.
“I saw what my existence did to my mother, and I didn’t want the same fate. What was I supposed to do?” She bit her lip to stop it from trembling, visibly shaken from reliving her memories. “I was just seventeen. I was so frightened by the apothecary’s words, that I… I used more drops of the potion than I was told. What happened next I can’t remember without horror. The bile, the blood, the pain… It was terrible. I thought I was dying, and perhaps I was… And I was all alone with no one to help me.”
Richard couldn’t listen to it any longer. He enveloped her in his arms, his heart bleeding for the young girl who’d faced so much adversity and pain because of a grown man’s actions. She had suffered then, and she’d continued suffering when the man’s life had not changed. He’d probably continued living as if nothing had happened and was considered a pillar of society. While Jo, along with other women he had no doubt ruined, had to reevaluate their entire existence and were looked upon as harlots and sinners.
I do not get involved with gentlemen.
