Читать книгу Ragged Rose - Dilly Court - Страница 10

The kitchen was deserted, but the kettle singing on the range was a sure sign that Mrs Blunt had not retired for the night. Rose helped Cora to a chair. ‘Sit down and dry your eyes. I’ll go and find out what’s happening.’

‘It must be Mama.’ Cora raised a tear-stained face. ‘We shouldn’t have left her.’

‘I’ll find out. Stay there and try to keep calm.’

Rose discarded her bonnet and shawl as she hurried from the room, making her way to the entrance hall where Dr Grantley and her father were deep in conversation. The sound of their deep tones echoed through the otherwise silent house.

‘What’s wrong, Papa?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Has Mama been taken worse?’

Seymour’s thin features were sharply outlined by the shadows cast by the flickering gaslights, and his face was ashen. ‘I’m afraid so. Mrs Blunt is with her now.’

‘I’ll go up, shall I, Vicar?’ Dr Grantley moved to the foot of the stairs without waiting for a response. ‘I know the way.’ He lumbered up the staircase and the treads creaked beneath his considerable weight.

‘Why are you home so late, Rose?’ Seymour demanded angrily. ‘I’ll have words with Polly for keeping you girls out until all hours. She will have to hire more help if she cannot run her establishment without you and Cora.’

‘It wasn’t Aunt Polly’s fault, Pa. We lost track of the time.’

‘Well, it isn’t good enough. I don’t want my daughters roaming the city streets late at night.’

‘I’m truly sorry that you were worried, Pa.’ Rose could see that her father was upset and unlikely to be mollified by excuses. ‘Shall I go upstairs with the doctor? I’ll ask Mrs Blunt to make you a cup of tea or a tisane to calm your nerves.’

He seemed to shrink before her startled gaze, and his shoulders stooped as if burdened by an unbearably heavy weight. He dashed his hand across his eyes. ‘Yes, Rose, that would be for the best. I think I might go to my study and rest for a while.’

The temptation to put her arms around him and give him a hug was almost irresistible, but Rose knew that her father was not the sort of man who welcomed personal contact. Even as a child she could not remember any outward demonstrations of affection on his part. As far as she was concerned, Papa had always been a slightly aloof figure of authority. Billy had always been his favourite, and no matter how hard Rose tried to please her father it had never seemed to be enough, but it was a shock to see him bowed and bent like a gnarled tree battered by a gale. She made a move to follow the doctor. ‘I’ll take care of Mama, and I’ll send Mrs Blunt to you.’

‘Where is Cora?’ Seymour demanded anxiously.

‘She’s in the kitchen, Pa.’

‘You must take care of her, Rose. She’s delicate, like your mother, and I worry about her health. Going out in the night air isn’t good for anyone with a weak constitution.’

‘Cora is perfectly well, Papa. I wouldn’t allow her to do anything that might compromise her wellbeing.’ Rose waited until her father went into his study before continuing upstairs to her parents’ bedroom.

Mrs Blunt was standing by the bed with a doleful expression on her face. She gave Rose a reproachful look. ‘Your ma was taken ill an hour or more ago. She was calling for you.’

Rose approached the bed, keeping a respectful distance from the doctor, who was using a stethoscope to examine his patient. Eleanor lay amongst the pillows like a broken flower, her long hair spreading out around her head in a halo of pale gold. Seeming to sense her daughter’s presence, she opened her eyes and her bloodless lips curved in a hint of a smile. ‘Rose,’ she whispered. ‘Where were you?’

‘No talking, please, Mrs Perkins.’ Dr Grantley shot a warning glance at Rose before continuing his examination.

‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ Rose said softly. ‘I was delayed, but I’m here now.’ She turned to Mrs Blunt. ‘My father looks very tired. I’m sure a cup of tea would revive him, or one of your excellent camomile tisanes.’

‘Yes, of course, Miss Rose.’ Despite her meek response Mrs Blunt managed to convey her reluctance with a twitch of her shoulders and a loud sniff as she left the room, but Rose was too concerned with her mother’s health to worry overmuch about offending their housekeeper’s sensibilities.

Dr Grantley folded the stethoscope and replaced it in his medical bag. ‘Your mother needs rest and quiet, Rose.’ He leaned over the bed, fixing Eleanor with a stern gaze. ‘I’ll give you some laudanum, which will help you to sleep, Mrs Perkins, and I’ll call again in the morning.’

He took a small glass bottle from his bag and handed it to Rose. ‘One or two drops diluted in water will ease the pain.’ He snapped the lock shut and headed for the door, beckoning Rose to follow him. ‘Your mother is very unwell. She has a delicate constitution and I’m afraid that the polluted air in the city has taken its toll on her health.’

‘What can we do to make her better, Doctor?’

‘I would advise good food, country air and above all rest, but I fear that is out of the question.’ He stroked his beard, frowning. ‘Unless, of course, you have relatives who dwell in the countryside, or a family friend who lives out of town and would care for Mrs Perkins during her convalescence?’

‘I don’t think so, Dr Grantley. My grandparents died several years ago and Mama has only one sister, but she lives in Old Street.’

A grim smile curved Dr Grantley’s thin lips. ‘Ah, yes. I know Miss Day very well. A good woman, despite her colourful past. I attend her establishment on a fairly regular basis.’

‘And Papa was an only child. As far as I am aware, he has no living relatives.’

‘What about William? I believe he is at Oxford; would it be possible for your mother to stay with him for a few weeks?’

Rose hesitated, caught unawares by the mention of Billy’s name. ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question. My brother is staying with friends in Cornwall until the beginning of the next term. He has rooms in college.’

Dr Grantley shook his head. ‘A great pity. However, I will come again tomorrow. We can only do so much and the rest is in God’s hands.’

Rose returned to the bedside and measured out two drops of laudanum into a glass, topping it up with water. She helped her mother to a semi-recumbent position and held the glass to her lips. Eleanor drank thirstily and fell back on the pillows, exhausted by the effort.

‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance to you all,’ she murmured.

Rose replaced the glass. ‘Don’t talk like that, Mama. You know that’s not true. We’d do anything to make you better, anything at all.’

‘I feel so useless,’ Eleanor whispered. ‘I spend more time confined to my bed than I do looking after my family, or helping to care for the poor of the parish.’

‘You do more than enough, and that’s partly why you keep falling ill. You wear yourself to the bone looking after the sick and aged, but you mustn’t worry. Cora and I will do more to help Papa, and you must concentrate on getting well.’ Rose leaned over to kiss her mother’s pale cheek. ‘I promise you that we’ll take care of everything.’

‘You’re such a comfort to me, Rose.’ Eleanor’s eyelids fluttered and closed and within minutes she was sound asleep.

Rose went straight to her father’s study. Her mother’s fragile condition could no longer be put aside as being a temporary indisposition. She knocked and entered the room without waiting for a response. ‘Pa, I need to talk to you.’

Seymour put his cup back on its saucer, eyeing her with a worried frown. ‘What is it, Rose? Has your mama taken a sudden turn for the worse?’

She sank down on the chair in front of his desk. ‘Mama is asleep. The laudanum has done its work, but it isn’t a cure. Dr Grantley said that she needs rest and country air. You must get her away from London before it’s too late, Pa.’

Seymour peered at her over the top of his steel-rimmed spectacles. ‘Don’t you think I would have done that months ago had it been possible, Rose?’

‘I don’t think there is a choice now. There must be something we can do.’

‘I can’t abandon my duties as parish priest.’

‘Joshua is in his fourth year as curate, Papa. Surely he could take over for as long as need be? If you could take Mama to the seaside it would be beneficial to her health.’

‘I can’t afford it, Rose. It’s as simple as that.’

Rose was not going to give up easily. ‘There must be a way.’

‘I have to trust in the Lord, my dear.’ A tired smile lit Seymour’s grey eyes. ‘Wearing yourself out with worry isn’t going to help, Rose. You’re a good daughter and I’m proud of the work you do, but you must take care of yourself or you might fall ill and then what would we do?’

She glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf and rose to her feet. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. I’ll say good night, Papa, but we’ll talk about this again in the morning. I’m not giving up so easily.’

Rose barely slept that night and was up early next morning. She washed in cold water and dressed in her Sunday best. She left the house without disturbing the rest of the family and made her way to the church. As she had hoped, Joshua Hart was in the vestry preparing for the services that would begin with Holy Communion. He turned with a start and a slow smile spread across his plain but pleasant features, making it impossible to respond in any other way. Rose had taken to Joshua from the moment they first met when he had come to St Matthew’s as a newly ordained cleric. He was one of the few people she knew who was unfailingly cheerful and courteous, with a kindly nature and a genuine desire to help those less fortunate than himself. His quiet sense of humour saved him from becoming over-serious, but early on Rose had discovered his one weakness; Joshua Hart was hopelessly in love with Cora, who barely acknowledged his existence.

‘You are up and about early, Rose.’ Joshua replaced the chalice he had been polishing in readiness for communion. His smile faded. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘I need your help, Joshua.’

‘You know that I’m always ready to do anything I can. What is it?’

‘I’m worried about my parents. Mama is very unwell and the doctor says she needs rest and fresh air. I think Papa is wearing himself out with work as well as worry.’

‘Just tell me how I can help. You know I’ll do anything for you and your family.’

‘I want you to persuade Papa that you are ready and willing to take over the parish so that he can take Mama somewhere to recuperate.’

‘Of course I’ll try to convince him that I’m capable of filling his shoes, but I’m not sure he’ll believe me.’

‘If I can find somewhere for them to stay that doesn’t cost too much, and if you can persuade him that the world won’t come to an end because he isn’t here for a while, we might make him see sense.’

‘I won’t put it quite like that, but I’ll have a word with him and see what I can do.’

‘You are a good friend, Joshua. I have every faith in you,’ Rose said, smiling.

‘Will you go with them? Your father might not think it proper for you to remain in the house on your own.’

‘Cora and I can look after ourselves, and we’ll still have Mrs Blunt. We’ll stay at home and carry out Mama’s parish duties to the best of our ability, so there’s no need to worry on that score.’

‘Leave it to me, Rose. I’ll do my very best.’

She thanked him again and left him to finish his task, safe in the knowledge that Joshua could be trusted to keep his word, but finding somewhere for her parents to stay might prove an insurmountable problem. She decided not to mention anything to Cora until she had a definite plan in mind.

Later that morning, Rose left on her own for Old Street and it was Maisie who answered her knock on the door.

‘You’re early, miss.’ Maisie eyed her curiously. ‘Is something up?’

Rose stepped inside. ‘You’re just the person I wanted to see. I need your help.’

‘I’ll do anything, miss. You know that.’

‘You know the situation,’ Rose said carefully. ‘I don’t have to explain everything, but Cora and I have to work this evening, and it’s our housekeeper’s night off.’

‘And you need some help in the kitchen,’ Maisie said, grinning. ‘That’s right up my alley, as you well know. Of course I’ll help out, but I’ll have to ask Miss Polly first.’

‘Ask me what?’ Polly emerged from the parlour. ‘Rose, what are you doing here at this time of day?’

‘Cora and I have to perform at the saloon tonight and we need some help at home. Maisie has said she’s willing, as long as it’s all right with you.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Polly turned to Maisie. ‘Off you go. I’m sure you have chores to attend to.’

Maisie bobbed a curtsey. ‘Yes’m. It is all right for me to go to the vicarage this evening, isn’t it?’

‘Haven’t I just said so?’ Polly waited until Maisie had trotted off towards the back stairs. ‘I need to talk to you, but not out here in this draughty hall. I don’t know why I keep this house on. I’d be better off living alone in a small cottage than trying to keep this place going.’ She ushered Rose into the parlour and threw herself down on the chaise longue, disturbing Spartacus, who opened one yellow eye, stretched and extended his claws, and, having made his feelings clear, went back to sleep.

Rose took a seat by the fire, holding her hands out to the blaze. Spring might be in the air, but it was cold outside, and a fitful sun had not yet managed to burn off the thick haze of pollution from the gas works, and the pall of smoke from manufactories and coal fires.

‘What did you want to say to me, Aunt?’

‘That girl cannot remain here much longer. It’s not her fault, but she’s mixing with women twice her age, and the majority have got into trouble by selling their favours on street corners. They’re not bad souls for the most part, but it’s no place for an innocent like Maisie.’

Rose stared at her aunt, puzzled by her sudden change of heart. ‘Surely she’ll learn something from her experience here? I know that her employer took advantage of her, but she will have to go out into the world and earn her own living at some stage.’

‘Maisie trusts everyone – I realised that from the start – and she’s very impressionable. She might have the body of a young woman, but in her head she’s still a little girl. We need to find her somewhere permanent.’

‘I’ve asked her to help out at home this evening. Maybe I can persuade Papa to take her on as a scullery maid. Mrs Blunt has more than enough work to keep her occupied.’

‘That would be a kindness to the girl, otherwise I can see her ending up in a brothel, or the workhouse. A fate that most of my girls will suffer, alas.’

‘I’ve never seen you like this, Aunt Polly. You’re usually so positive and forthright.’

‘We lost one of the younger mothers last night, Rose. I took her across the road to the Lying-In Hospital, but they couldn’t save her or the child.’ Polly dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘Don’t take any notice of me, my dear. I expect I’m just tired. I’m getting too old to be up all night. When I was the toast of the East End I could give my best on stage and go on to dine and dance, staying out until the small hours without any adverse effects.’ She forced her lips into a smile but her eyes were lacklustre and red-rimmed. ‘Now tell me what is bothering you.’

‘It’s Mama. She was taken ill again yesterday, and the doctor says she needs to get away from the city. I’m hoping I can persuade Papa to take her to the country, or the seaside, although I’m certain he will say that it would cost too much.’

‘I suppose you could use some of the money you’ve saved. It’s all there in my strong box.’

Rose shook her head. ‘No. I can’t do that. Billy’s life depends on having the best barrister I can afford. Billy has chosen Sharpe and I have to trust his judgement. By the way, Mr Sharpe won’t be calling this morning as he’s had to return to Cornwall.’

‘Then I am at a loss, for the moment at least.’ A glimmer of humour lit Polly’s blue eyes. ‘Which is unusual for me, you must admit.’

‘I do freely, Aunt,’ Rose said, chuckling. ‘I’ve never known you to be lost for words before.’

‘I will think about it very carefully.’ Polly sat up straight, as if struck by a sudden thought. ‘There is one possibility.’

Rose sat on the edge of her seat. ‘Really? What is it?’

‘Eleanor had a friend who lived near us in Islington until she married, and then she moved to the south coast. She is your godmother and I believe my sister corresponded with her for many years. You could ask your mother if she remembers Isabel Harman. If they are still in touch perhaps she could stay with Isabel, and then your father wouldn’t need to leave his flock. Although I know he thinks he’s irreplaceable.’

‘Papa needs a rest too. I’ve asked Joshua if he would be prepared to take over, providing Papa agreed, and there was no objection from the diocese.’

‘Then I suggest you go home and speak to your mother, or even Mrs Blunt. I don’t think there’s anything that woman misses. I suspect that she listens at keyholes, and I wouldn’t put it past her to read any correspondence she found lying around.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Rose said, suppressing a chuckle. ‘Mrs Blunt has been with us for ever.’

‘My point exactly.’ Polly stroked Spartacus absent-mindedly and he began to purr. ‘Now go home, Rose dear. I’m going to take a nap before luncheon.’ She closed her eyes. ‘And take Maisie with you. Her endless chatter grates on my nerves.’

‘Yes, Aunt. Of course.’ Rose jumped to her feet. She was eager to get home and find out more about Isabel Harman.

Eleanor was propped up on pillows, sipping a cup of warm milk, when Rose entered the bedroom. ‘You’re looking much better, Mama,’ she said softly. ‘How do you feel now?’

‘I hate hot milk.’ Eleanor held the cup out to her. ‘Please take it away, and don’t let Mrs Blunt see you tip it down the sink.’

Smiling, Rose took it from her. ‘I won’t tell on you, Mama. Although I’m sure it’s good for you. Can I get you something else?’

‘No, thank you, my love. I’m not hungry. All I want to do is sleep.’

Rose hesitated. ‘I was talking to Aunt Polly and she told me that you have a friend who is my godmother. I didn’t realise we had anyone close to us.’

A faint smile hovered around Eleanor’s pale lips. ‘She must have meant Isabel, who was my dearest friend. She moved away from town when she married for the second time. Her new husband didn’t like London.’

‘Aunt Polly said you’ve kept in touch with her.’

‘Why the sudden interest?’ Eleanor’s thin hand plucked at the coverlet. ‘What has Polly been saying?’

‘That’s all she told me. I was just curious, because I thought it might be nice to have someone for you to visit occasionally. I dare say you would like to see her again, wouldn’t you?’

‘I’m too ill to travel,’ Eleanor said pettishly. ‘I need to rest now, Rose. Go away like a good girl.’

‘Of course, Mama. I’m sorry if I’ve tired you.’ Rose walked to the door. ‘Mrs Harman moved to Brighton, so Aunt Polly said.’

Eleanor’s eyes opened wide. ‘Polly never could get anything right. Isabel lives in Lyme Regis. Brighton, indeed!’

‘Of course,’ Rose said smugly. ‘I must have made a mistake.’ She was smiling as she left the room.

‘Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’ Cora demanded when Rose entered the dining room.

‘I think I might have found the answer.’

Cora placed the last spoon and fork on the dining table and stood back to admire her work. ‘The answer to what?’

‘We have to pay attention to what Dr Grantley said last evening. Mama is only going to get worse if she remains in London. He recommended the country or the seaside, and I might have found a place where she can recuperate.’

‘Go on.’ Cora pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘I hope you realise that apart from attending Holy Communion, which you missed, I’ve spent all morning doing the chores that we’re supposed to share.’

‘I’m sorry, but I had to make sure we have Maisie to help out this evening, and I wanted to speak to Aunt Polly. What’s more, I’ve discovered that Mama has a friend, my godmother, called Isabel Harman who lives in a place called Lyme Regis.’

‘I don’t see how that helps.’

‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she were to invite our parents to stay for a while? A little holiday for them both.’

‘Rose, you are so devious.’

‘You don’t think it’s a good idea?’

‘No – I think it’s a marvellous idea. With our parents away we can work at Fancello’s without fear of being found out.’

‘And Mama will get well again.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Cora said hastily. ‘That goes without saying.’

‘You’re late,’ Fancello said crossly. ‘This is not a day of rest for you, young ladies.’

Rose bit back a sharp retort. She would have liked to spend the evening quietly at home, sitting by the fire in the parlour with a good book, or attending to the heap of mending that awaited her attention. Instead she and Cora had braved the cold and rain to walk to Cupid’s Court, only to be greeted by a scolding from their employer.

‘We are so sorry, signor,’ Cora said apologetically. ‘It won’t happen again.’

‘It had better not.’ Fancello looked them up and down, shaking his head. ‘You look like two drowned sparrows. Go and change at once. Make yourselves look beautiful for the patrons.’

‘Yes, signor.’ Rose drew back the curtain just far enough to get a view of the saloon. ‘It’s very quiet out there. Is it always like this on Sunday nights?’

Fancello bridled visibly. ‘More will arrive soon.’ He stomped off in answer to an urgent summons from his wife.

‘Don’t take any notice of him, Rose,’ Cora said, slipping her arm around her sister’s shoulders. ‘I suspect that he’s had a row with Graziella, and he was taking it out on us.’

‘You’re right. I’ll just think of the money we’re adding to the amount in Aunt Polly’s strong box, and ignore his bad temper.’

Cora peered through the gap between the heavy velvet curtains. ‘Gerard isn’t there. I wonder if he’ll come tonight.’

‘I know I’ve said it before, but be careful, Cora. He might have a wife and children waiting for him at home, or at the very least a fiancée. Men like the Honourable Gerard Barclay don’t marry girls like us.’

‘That is so mean,’ Cora whispered. ‘You don’t know him, Rose. He’s a gentleman and he wouldn’t lead me on. I know he wouldn’t.’ Cora hurried off in the direction of the dressing room.

‘I hope you’re right,’ Rose said in a whisper, but Cora was already out of earshot. Rose caught up with her as Cora squeezed into the tiny dressing room. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

Cora sniffed and turned away. ‘I know what you think. You don’t have to keep telling me, Rose. I’m not a child.’

‘I’m sorry. I care about you, Corrie. I don’t want you to end up broken-hearted.’

‘I’ll take that chance.’ Cora stepped out of her dress and slipped her costume over her head.

Rose was about to close the door when she heard the sound of shouting from the upstairs apartment and the sound of breaking glass. ‘Another family squabble,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Thank goodness we don’t throw things when we get cross.’

‘Their fights used to worry me, but I’m getting used to them.’ Cora turned her head. ‘Will you tie my laces, please, Rose? As tight as possible.’

Another loud crash from above made them both jump, and then there was silence. Rose did as Cora asked and then concentrated on getting herself ready.

She was just adding the finishing touches to her stage make-up when Tommy stuck his head round the door. ‘You’re wanted upstairs, Miss Perkins.’

She stared at him in astonishment. ‘Upstairs?’

‘The signora is in hysterics. The signor wants you.’

‘Shall I come with you?’ Cora asked anxiously.

‘I’ll be all right. I expect it’s something and nothing.’ Rose stepped into the corridor. She could hear Fancello’s raised voice, and, as she climbed the narrow stairs, the sound of Graziella’s hysterical sobs grew louder. The door to the Fancellos’ flat was ajar and she pushed it open.

The sight that met her eyes made her gasp with shock and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, my goodness.’