Книга - Ragged Rose

Ragged Rose
Dilly Court


The heartwarming new novel from Dilly Court, the Sunday Times Top Ten bestselling author of The Beggar Maid.With the fate of her family in her hands, Rose has to make a terrible choice. Be thrown onto the streets without a penny to her name, or watch her loved ones fall into ruin . . .Rose is keeping a dreadful secret, and too scared to ask her strict father for help, it’s down to her to keep her brother from the hangman’s noose – whatever it takes. Her innocent sister Cora is on a different road to ruin, bewitched by a handsome cad whose intentions are anything but gallant.When Rose’s father discovers that his children have disgraced his name he turns them onto the street. Penniless, homeless and with the noose tightening, Rose must rescue her brother and keep her sister from the streets, even if it means putting herself in the most terrible danger . . .




















Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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1 London Bridge Street

London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016

Copyright © Dilly Court 2016

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016

Cover photographs © Gordon Crabb (woman); City of London (background scene)

Dilly Court asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008137359

Ebook Edition © February 2016 ISBN: 9780008137366

Version: 2017-05-09




Dedication (#u01cc978d-8111-5418-9d9b-3d6731c642a8)


For my great-niece, Evie Marian Jane Atchison.


Table of Contents

Cover (#u37e3f6a6-55a6-54e8-95a1-cd1bf0ced7d3)

Title Page (#u2ef8b958-a0ed-5dc4-bb7f-38b00411121b)

Copyright (#ue70a3f4e-51e9-5c79-989e-f9af5a9d8a74)

Dedication (#u17b7605e-b4dd-5449-b65c-e57f4776229c)

Chapter One (#u3a8bcd38-984f-5f82-9587-d96b466f1b10)

Chapter Two (#uf39aff0b-061c-55b1-84e8-1c2bba22e414)

Chapter Three (#uaaeb50e0-0ec3-5cdb-aecb-a3d768c92dac)

Chapter Four (#u3f8bf09a-b6d8-5b68-b891-aa17eff4f6fd)

Chapter Five (#u64c249ee-95b1-54d2-a620-ea7a044b5a10)



Chapter Six (#u178ec941-c9e6-5896-8a44-8c4f8ea34fda)



Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)



A Letter from Dilly (#litres_trial_promo)



Read on for an exclusive extract from Dilly Court’s gripping new novel (#litres_trial_promo)



Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)



Also by Dilly Court (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One (#u01cc978d-8111-5418-9d9b-3d6731c642a8)


Cupid’s Court, Barbican, London 1875

‘Do hurry up, Cora. We’re on in a minute.’ Rose edged past her sister, bending almost double to avoid knocking the sequin-encrusted gowns off the pegs in their tiny dressing room, which in reality was little more than a cupboard.

Cora patted a stray curl in place, making a moue as she studied her reflection in the fly-spotted mirror. The atmosphere was thick with the smell of burning lamp oil and greasepaint, with wafts of cigar smoke seeping under the door, and the ever-present odour of stale beer and spirits permeated every inch of the saloon. She stood up, smoothing the tight-fitting bodice of the daringly low-cut gown with a satisfied smile. ‘I’m ready.’

Rose opened the door in answer to an urgent knock.

‘On stage, girls.’ Tommy Tinker, the boy who undertook all the odd jobs that no one else wanted to do, stuck his head into the room, eyeing the girls with a cheeky grin. ‘Very nice too, if I might be so bold.’

‘Little boys should be seen and not heard,’ Cora said with a haughty toss of her head as she squeezed past him.

‘Show a bit of respect for your elders, young Tinker.’ Rose paused in the doorway, fixing him with a stony stare until he blushed and dropped his gaze.

‘Sorry, Miss Sunshine,’ he muttered, making way for her by flattening himself against the whitewashed wall of what had once been a coal cellar. This small space now served as general store, as well as dressing rooms for the acts who performed in Fancello’s Saloon.

‘It’s Miss Perkins,’ Rose said mildly. ‘Sunshine is our stage name, Tinker.’

He frowned. ‘Best hurry, miss. The patrons are getting restless.’

Rose bundled up her full skirt as she negotiated the steep, narrow staircase, taking care to keep the satin from brushing against the damp walls. With Cora following close behind she arrived in the wings just in time to hear Fancello’s introduction.

‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ He raised his voice in order to make himself heard above the general hubbub in the bar room. ‘I am proud to present for your delectation … the delicious and delightful Sunshine Sisters.’ He clapped enthusiastically and his brother, Alphonso, downed the last of his pint and thundered out the intro on the piano.

Ignoring the continuous chatter, the occasional bursts of raucous laughter, and with the odd salacious remark tossed in for good measure by someone the worse for drink, Rose and Cora performed ‘Pretty Little Polly Perkins of Paddington Green’with appropriate actions, and then launched into their dance routine. This had the effect of largely silencing the rowdy element of their audience, as the men craned their necks in order to get a better view of ladies’ legs, and the occasional glimpse of a garter.

Rose and Cora left the small stage to a tumult of applause, and were called back for an encore, but Fancello intervened.

‘You have had sunshine brought into your lives, gentlemen. The young ladies must not be allowed to exhaust themselves, but they will perform again later in the evening.’ He joined the sisters in the wings. ‘Well done,’ he said, twirling his waxed moustache, a nervous habit that Rose had noted several times in the past. ‘We mustn’t spoil them – always leave the punters longing for more.’

‘Yes, Signor Fancello,’ Cora said with a coy smile. ‘You’re always right.’

Rose eyed him suspiciously. ‘We agreed one performance a night, signor. You just said we would be on again later – I take it that we’ll be paid double?’

He released his moustache and it recoiled like a watch spring. ‘I’m paying you for a night’s work, Miss Sunshine. Don’t bring on the storm clouds. Fancello is a fair man, but you can be replaced.’

Cora laid a small hand on his arm, her large blue eyes misted with tears. ‘Don’t be cross, signor. We understand, don’t we, Rose?’

Rose ignored the warning look that Cora sent her. ‘We might not be as well-known as your bambina, but we have been popular amongst your clients, signor. I think we deserve to be paid accordingly.’

For a moment she thought that she had gone too far. Fancello’s dark curly hair seemed to stand on end like the fur of an outraged feline, and his full lips quivered, but a sly smile spread across his face and he roared with laughter. ‘You drive a hard bargain, Miss Sunshine. I will pay you extra if you perform again later. My little bambina has the voice of an angel, but she is delicate like her mamma and we are careful to protect her.’ He cocked his head on one side, frowning at the sound of a slow hand clap from the saloon. ‘Go out there and circulate, but don’t allow the punters to get too familiar.’ He cupped his hand round his lips. ‘Tinker.’

Popping up like a jack-in-the-box, Tinker appeared at his side. ‘Yes, guv?’

‘Where is the bambina? Why is she not ready to go on stage?’

Tinker shook his head. ‘Your lady wife says it’s no go, guv. The little ’un ain’t to appear on stage as she’s took sick.’

‘We’ll see about that.’ Fancello strode off towards the staircase.

‘Is she ill?’ Cora asked anxiously. ‘It’s not catching, is it? I was talking to her earlier and she seemed perfectly fine then.’

‘Gin,’ Tinker said, tapping the side of his nose. ‘The bambina likes a drop of gin and water to give her Dutch courage.’

Rose pursed her lips. She was no prude but she had listened to enough of her father’s sermons to know the difference between right and wrong. ‘She’s just a child, a defenceless little girl. She should be drinking warm milk with a little honey to help her voice.’

‘Ain’t you never had a close look at her?’ Tinker said with a superior smile. ‘Ain’t you never smelled the gin fumes on her breath, nor the tobacco smoke what clings to her hair and clothes?’

Cora’s eyes widened. ‘What are you saying, Tinker? Is this one of your jokes?’

‘I been with the Fancellos since they plucked me from the poorhouse, miss. I seen the way they encouraged little Clementia to smoke and drink. It means she don’t eat much and she don’t grow proper – like us kids from the backstreets. Why do you think me legs is bowed and me arms don’t straighten out proper? Most of us kids suffered from rickets.’

Rose laid her hand on his bony arm. ‘It’s a terrible affliction, Tinker. I’m ashamed to think I didn’t notice your infirmities before, and I’m equally shocked to learn the truth about little Clemmie.’

‘Never mind her,’ Cora said urgently. ‘There’ll be a riot out there if we don’t put in an appearance. Besides which, I saw a really handsome young man seated at one of the tables. I’d swear that he had eyes for me and me alone.’

‘Best do it, miss.’ Tinker peered out through a gap in the curtains. ‘The signora is coming this way. She’s got that look about her like when she starts throwing things. I’m off.’ He turned and raced off towards the stairs that led up to the Fancellos’ private apartment.

Rose went to meet Signora Fancello, who did not look amused. ‘Your husband has asked us to do another performance this evening,’ she said boldly. ‘We have agreed but we must be out of the saloon before ten o’clock.’

Graziella Fancello’s winged eyebrows drew together in an ominous frown. ‘You are in no position to make demands on us, Miss Sunshine. We pay you to perform, and perform you will, even if we ask you to sing and dance at midnight.’

‘But, signora, our mama is unwell and we have to look after her. She will be worried if we’re out late. The streets of Islington are dangerous enough in daytime, let alone late at night, and we are two young women on our own.’

Graziella’s red lips hardened into a thin line. ‘I’ll think about it. Now go out there and socialise with the clients.’ She headed towards the stairs with a determined set of her chin.

‘Well done, Cora,’ Rose whispered, smiling. ‘You know how to handle the wretched woman.’

‘I suppose she’s gone upstairs to give poor Clemmie a piece of her mind.’ Cora adjusted her costume, pulling the bodice up in an attempt at a semblance of modesty. ‘We’d best go out and circulate. Who knows, I might catch the eye of a rich man and he’ll sweep me off my feet, and marry me?’

‘I’d settle for being spotted by the manager of thePavilion Theatre or theGrecian. We could earn twice as much, and we wouldn’t have to pander to gentlemen with roving eyes and wandering hands.’ Rose braced her shoulders. ‘But we must leave here by ten, or Aunt Polly will have locked the doors.’

Cora pulled back the curtain and stepped down from the stage to a rousing cheer from the clientele: mostly well-dressed men of means who had come slumming. She headed for the blue-eyed gentleman she’d spotted earlier, who leaped to his feet with a courteous bow. Rose followed more slowly, walking between the tables, acknowledging the flattering comments, and ignoring suggestive remarks that would have made a courtesan blush. There were familiar faces amongst the audience, some whom she knew it was best to humour and then move on. Just as Fancello erupted onto the stage to introduce his bambina cara, Clementia, Rose came to a halt at a table occupied by a distinguished-looking gentleman of military bearing. He was older than the usual punter, and he had a kind, fatherly look about him.

‘You are on your own, sir,’ she said, smiling. ‘May I join you?’

He half rose from his chair, motioning her to take a seat. ‘That would be delightful, but you must excuse me if I don’t stand. I have a gammy leg – an old war wound, you understand.’

She sat down opposite him. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Were you in the Crimea?’

Just as he was about to reply, Clementia began to sing in a sweet clear soprano that momentarily stilled and silenced the audience. Rose sat back, watching the small creature perform. Poor Clemmie was never allowed out unaccompanied, Rose knew that for a fact. Tommy liked to gossip, and his favourite subject was little Clemmie, who was virtually a prisoner of love; doted on and fiercely protected by adoring parents. Rose was unsure whether this was entirely out of parental devotion, or whether Clemmie’s ma and pa had an eye to nurturing a valuable talent. Whatever the reason, the young girl had no life outside the walls of the smoky saloon.

Rose turned to the military gentleman with an encouraging smile. ‘You were about to tell me of your exploits, sir.’

‘Colonel Mountfitchet at your service,’ he said gallantly.

Rose felt herself blushing. ‘I’m Rose Sunshine. How do you do, Colonel?’

‘My friends call me Fitch.’

‘I – I couldn’t.’ Rose had a vision of her father’s shocked face were he to hear her being disrespectful to a much older gentleman, let alone a war hero. ‘That wouldn’t be proper, sir.’

‘I take it that Sunshine is not your real name, and I respect your right to anonymity.’ He leaned towards her. ‘What are you doing here, Rose? You’re not the sort of girl who normally frequents places such as this.’

‘My sister and I are here to entertain, sir. We don’t fraternise with the customers, if that’s what you are inferring.’

‘Certainly not, my dear, and it’s none of my business.’

Rose eyed him warily. This was not the usual way that conversations with patrons ran. There might be a little mild flirtation, but that was as far as it went. She had learned to slant her questions so that the gentlemen talked about their favourite topics, namely themselves, but the colonel was different. He seemed genuinely interested in her, and that was alarming.

He cleared his throat. ‘You must forgive me, Rose. It’s a long time since I was in the company of a beautiful young lady. I beg you to forgive an old soldier for his ill manners.’

‘No, sir. I won’t allow that,’ Rose said hastily. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘My sister and I work of necessity, Colonel. We have our reasons, but I would ask you not to enquire further.’

He nodded and his pale grey eyes twinkled. ‘You have my word, Rose. Now will you allow me to buy you a drink? The signora has returned and she is looking this way. I imagine she expects to boost sales by sending the Sunshine Sisters behind enemy lines.’

Rose stifled a giggle. ‘I would hardly call you the enemy, Colonel, but I must warn you that she serves us lemonade and charges for champagne.’

‘I would expect nothing else from a businesswoman like the signora.’ He clicked his fingers to attract a waiter. ‘Champagne for the young lady,’ he said grandly. ‘And a whisky for me.’

A somewhat half-hearted round of applause heralded the end of Clemmie’s performance, and Rose was quick to note the frown on the signora’s face. Poor Clemmie would come in for some fierce criticism when her mother joined her upstairs. The colonel was clapping enthusiastically, but Rose had a feeling that he was acting from chivalry rather than appreciation of Clemmie’s pitch-perfect, but emotionless, render-ing of ‘Come into the Garden, Maud’. She nodded to the waiter, who placed a brimming glass on the table in front of her. ‘Thank you.’

He grinned and hurried away to serve a gentleman who was already the worse for wear. Rose sipped what indeed turned out to be lemonade. It had been a long day and she was tired, but it was not yet over.

The colonel added a dash of water to his whisky, and raised his glass to her. ‘Here’s to your lovely green eyes and russet hair, Miss Sunshine. May you continue to delight us for many an evening to come.’

‘Thank you, Colonel.’ Rose glanced over her shoulder and saw Cora beckoning to her. ‘I think we’re on again, so I must leave you.’ She downed the sweet drink in one. ‘I hope to see you here again, sir.’ He attempted to rise, but she held up her hand. ‘Please don’t get up, sir.’

He subsided onto his seat. ‘You’ve brought a little sunshine into an old man’s life, Rose. I will definitely patronise Fancello’s establishment again, and I will tell him so.’

Rose acknowledged his gallant remark with a smile before weaving her way through the closely packed tables to join her sister.

‘It’s nearly ten o’clock,’ Cora whispered. ‘We’d better go through this one double tempo.’ She climbed onto the stage and waved to Alphonso, who had a full pint glass in one hand and a cigar in the other. For a moment it looked as if he were about to ignore her signal, but Fancello had reappeared and he clapped his hands.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I have pleasure to present, for a second time this evening, the superb, sweet and sensational Sunshine Sisters. Maestro, music, if you please.’ With an expansive flourish of his arms he turned to face the girls. ‘Smile.’

Alphonso rested his cigar on the top of the piano and took a swig of beer. With a rebellious scowl he flexed his fingers and began to play.

When they finally escaped from the stage, having taken several encores, Rose and Cora each did a quick change, crammed their bonnets on their elaborate coiffures and wrapped their shawls around their shoulders before leaving by the side door, which led into Cupid’s Court. It was dark and there were no streetlights to relieve the gloom of a March night. The buildings around them were mainly business premises, vacated when the day’s work came to an end. Their unlit windows stared blindly into the darkness, and homeless men and women huddled in doorways. The cobblestones were slippery beneath the girls’ feet and gutters overflowed with rain-water. They had missed a storm, but a spiteful wind tugged at their clothes and threatened to whip their bonnets off their heads as they ran towards the relative safety of Golden Lane. Gas lamps created pools of light, and, even though it was late, there were still plenty of people about, although it was a different crowd from the housewives, office workers, milliners and stay makers who frequented the busy thoroughfare in daylight. Darkness brought out the worst in society, and the girls held hands as they hurried on their way.

The home for fallen women was situated on the corner of Old Street and City Road, directly oppos-ite St Luke’s Hospital for Lunatics and the City of London Lying-In Hospital. The sour smell from the vinegar works behind St Mark’s church hung in a damp cloud, grazing the rooftops as it mingled with the fumes from the gas works in Pear Tree Street, and the odours belched out by the manufactories alongside the City Road Basin. Shrieks from the inmates of the asylum were indistinguishable from the screams of the women in labour in the building next door, and, in stark comparison, laughter and voices raised in drunken singing emanated from a nearby pub.

The door of the home opened just a crack in response to Rose’s rapping on the knocker.

‘Who is it?’ The young voice sounded wary.

‘It’s Rose and Cora,’ Rose said urgently. ‘Let us in, please, Sukey.’

‘You can’t be too careful,’ Sukey muttered as she let them into the dark hallway. ‘There’s one of them loonies escaped earlier today. We’ll all have our throats slit while we sleep in our beds.’ She closed the door and picked up an oil lamp.

Cora patted her on the shoulder. ‘I’m sure that the poor person will be far away from here by now.’

‘I imagine that the first thing people think about when they escape is to make their way home,’ Rose said in her most matter-of-fact voice. ‘So you need not be afraid.’

Sukey slanted her a sideways look. ‘Yes, miss. I expects you’re right.’ She drew herself up to her full height, although her twisted spine gave her the look of a young sapling stunted in its growth. ‘Shall I tell Miss Polly that you’re here? Only she’s up in the dormitory sorting out a fight.’

‘It’s all right,’ Cora said hastily. ‘We’ll go to the parlour.’

‘We can’t stay long,’ Rose added. ‘We’re late as it is.’

‘Your duds are laid out for you. I done it meself, so I know it’s done proper. You can’t trust the ser-vants to keep their traps shut or do things right.’

Rose kept a straight face with difficulty. ‘We appreciate everything you do for us, Sukey. If you’d be kind enough to tell Miss Polly that we’re here when she’s free, that would be splendid.’

Sukey puffed out her concave chest. ‘You can trust me, Miss Rose.’ She scuttled off with her lop-sided gait.

‘Poor thing,’ Cora sighed. ‘She’d be pretty if she didn’t have such a terrible disability.’

Rose headed for the parlour. ‘She copes very well, and she’s lucky that she’s got a good home here with Polly. She might have ended up in a circus or a freak show, poor soul.’ She paused to glance at the steep flight of stairs, listening to the shouts and streams of invective that flowed with such fluency. ‘I wonder if we ought to go upstairs and help.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Cora hurried on ahead of her. ‘I think Aunt Polly can handle the situation.’ She opened the parlour door and went inside.

The warmth from the coal fire enveloped Rose like a comforting blanket as she followed her sister into Polly’s inner sanctum, where nothing ever changed. Polly’s theatrical past was evoked by the play bills that covered the walls, and framed photographs of her in her heyday hung from the picture rail. Mementoes of her brief reign as queen of the London stage covered the entire surface of a large mahogany chiffonier, and sheet music of her most popular songs lay on the piano stool. One of her stage costumes was draped over a tailor’s dummy, standing proud between the two windows. It was faded, and moths had been feasting on the material, but Polly refused to pack it away. She clung to her memories, insisting that one day a theatre manager would come calling, and her star would shine again.

It was not an elegant room, but Rose had always felt more at home here than in the neat parlour at the vicarage, where the atmosphere was so often uncomfortable. It was Aunt Polly who had looked after the infant Rose and Cora when their mother was suffering from frequent bouts of illness. It was in this room that Polly had given the girls singing lessons and taught them dance routines, unbeknown to their strict father. It was to Aunt Polly they had come recently when news of their brother’s troubles reached them in a letter that Billy had sent from Bodmin Gaol. It was Polly who had given the girls the courage to go out and earn money to pay for his defence lawyer, and now Polly was helping them to keep their mission secret.

Rose was overtaken by a sudden wave of nostalgia as she breathed in the lingering aroma of Aunt Polly’s perfume, laced with the fumes of gin and overtones of brandy. She looked round the room with a feeling of deep affection. It was true that the furniture had been purchased in sale rooms and was well worn, but Polly said that gave each item a mystique and a history that was sadly lacking in anything brand-new. Polly’s favourite piece was a chaise longue, which was draped with exotic shawls, although the only occupant at this moment was a fat tabby cat of uncertain nature. He had wandered in from the street one night and taken up residence, bringing with him his feral dislike of all humans with the exception of Polly, whom he tolerated.

Cora was about to sit down when she spotted Spartacus, as Polly had named the animal, and she moved to a chair by the fire. The cat opened one eye, stretched and exposed his sharp claws, and then went back to sleep.

Rose began to undress. ‘Don’t get comfortable, Cora. We’ve got to get home before Pa sends out a search party. I can’t face an angry scene this evening.’

‘I’m tired,’ Cora complained bitterly. ‘My feet are sore and I don’t think I can walk another step.’

‘We can’t afford a cab. You’ll have to make the effort.’ Rose slipped off her blouse, sniffed it and shook her head. ‘It reeks of tobacco smoke and stale beer,’ she said, sighing. ‘I wouldn’t bother to change, but Ma would be sure to notice and demand an explanation.’

‘Couldn’t we say that the women here smoke and drink?’ Cora asked, smothering a yawn. ‘Aunt Polly would back us up. I know she would.’

‘Ma might be taken in, but Pa would know we were telling fibs. He has an uncanny ability to sniff out a lie. Neither you nor I have ever been able to look him in the face and fib.’

‘That’s not quite true,’ Cora insisted. ‘They think we spend our spare time helping the fallen women. Both Ma and Pa would have a fit if they knew what we were really doing. Especially Pa.’

‘And they mustn’t be allowed to find out,’ Rose said firmly. She picked up a grey linsey-woolsey gown and tossed it to her sister. ‘Come on, Corrie. Be a good girl and get changed. You know we’re doing this for a good cause.’

Cora raised herself to her feet and began undoing the buttons on her cotton blouse. ‘I know we’re doing it for Billy, but I wish he were here now.’ Her bottom lip trembled, but she sniffed and attempted a smile. ‘I miss him, Rosie. He’s the best brother a girl could have and I’ll never believe ill of him.’

‘Cora!’ Polly erupted into the room. ‘I’ve told you before not to mention William’s name in this house. You never know who might be listening.’

‘I – I’m sorry,’ Cora said, hanging her head. ‘But I do miss him and I want him to come home.’

‘That’s why we’re doing this.’ Rose slipped her gown over her head. ‘It will be worth it in the end, and who knows, we might become famous along the way.’ She turned to her aunt with a pleading look. ‘Don’t be cross with Cora, Aunt Polly. She’s tired and her feet hurt. We had to do two shows tonight.’

Polly threw herself down on the chaise longue, pushing the cat out of the way, to his obvious annoyance. Spartacus hissed and took a half-hearted swipe at her before settling down again on one of the velvet cushions. ‘Wretched animal,’ Polly said crossly. ‘I ought to throw you out on the street where you belong.’ She glanced up at Rose, who was eyeing her with a wry smile. ‘He’s useful. He keeps the rodent population under control.’ She leaned against the buttoned back rest. ‘Pour me a glass of gin, Cora. I’ve just had a tussle with two women who would like to slit each other’s throats.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Rose said, moving to the side table where Polly kept a selection of decanters. ‘You would think that they would support each other instead of falling out. They’ve all been abandoned by their husbands, and face the prospect of bringing up their children on their own. From what I’ve seen of the gentlemen who frequent the saloon, being married doesn’t stop a man having a roving eye.’

‘It’s true that most of my women have wedding rings.’ Polly stretched out her hand to take the drink from Rose. ‘But knowing those two upstairs, they’ve probably filched them from corpses.’

‘Why were they fighting?’ Cora asked.

Polly swallowed a mouthful of neat gin. ‘They’ve only just realised that they’ve been taken in by the same man, and he’s turned his back on both of them. They were at each other’s throats. I think they would have killed each other had they had a weapon other than a hairpin and a teaspoon. I must tell Ethel to lock away the kitchen knives tonight.’

Rose picked up the much-darned woollen shawl that she had worn when she left home earlier that evening and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘Hurry up, Corrie. The sooner we set out the sooner you’ll be tucked up in your bed at home.’

‘I wish there was some other way for you girls to raise money,’ Polly said, frowning. ‘Heaven knows what your father would say if he knew about all this, and Eleanor would never let me hear the last of it. She was always the bossy older sister … in the old days, anyway.’

‘I’m sure she will understand when Billy tells her the whole story.’ Cora picked up her bonnet and rammed it on her head.

Polly’s rouged lips curved in a wry smile. ‘I don’t know about that, Cora. Eleanor thinks the sun rises and sets in her first-born, and your father is convinced that William is following in his footsteps. How could you tell a man of the cloth that his precious son is in gaol, awaiting trial for killing his best friend? Especially when we’ve all kept up the fiction that Billy is a guest of the Tressidick family in Cornwall.’

‘They must never know,’ Rose said firmly. ‘We won’t allow their hearts to be broken. Come on, Cora Perkins. It’s time we were home.’

It was less than a mile from the home for fallen women to St Matthew’s church, and the walk was uneventful, notwithstanding a bunch of drunken youths who staggered out of The Eagle tavern on the corner of City Road and Shepherdess Walk. Rose grabbed Cora by the hand and marched past with her nose in the air, which seemed to work as the young men made no attempt to molest them, resorting instead to hurling insults and collapsing with drunken laughter. Rose came to a halt on the bridge over the City Road Basin, where the Regent’s Canal came to a sudden end. A young woman was standing on the parapet and seemed about to throw herself into the murky waters, which were stained with indigo dye, coal dust and industrial effluent.

‘Don’t do it,’ Rose said gently, ignoring Cora, who was tugging at her hand. ‘He’s never worth it, and you’ll spoil that pretty frock if you fall into that filthy water.’

The girl turned her head and in the light of the streetlamp Rose could see that she was very young. Her face was pale and streaked with tears, and her lips worked soundlessly. Rose held out her hand. ‘Nothing can be so bad that it can’t be made better by a nice hot cup of tea and a warm fire.’

‘Who are you? And what d’you want with the likes of me? I ain’t going back into service, not for no one. He done this to me, and now he don’t want to know.’

Rose and Cora exchanged knowing looks. They had both heard this story many times before.

‘What is your name?’ Rose kept her voice low, knowing that any sudden move or harsh tone could send the girl plummeting to her death.

‘M-Maisie. Now you know, so leave me be.’ Maisie held out her arms and raised herself on tiptoe, ready to jump.




Chapter Two (#u01cc978d-8111-5418-9d9b-3d6731c642a8)


‘Don’t!’ Rose and Cora cried out as one, but it was Rose who lunged at Maisie and caught her round the waist. She dragged her back onto the pavement and they fell in a heap.

‘Rose, are you all right?’ Cora cried anxiously as she attempted to help her sister to her feet.

‘Yes, don’t fuss, Corrie. Catch hold of her – don’t let her run away.’

Cora seized Maisie by the scruff of her neck. ‘You silly girl. He’s not worth it, whoever he is, and you might have taken my sister with you.’

Rose scrambled to her feet. ‘It’s all right, Corrie. No harm done.’ She helped Maisie to stand. ‘Don’t cry. We’ll take care of you.’

‘I don’t need you, nor anyone.’ Maisie wiped her nose on the frayed cuff of her sleeve. ‘I can look after meself.’

‘I’m sure you can,’ Rose said, brushing the mud off her skirt. ‘But we all need a little help now and then. Why don’t you come to the vicarage with us? You can stay the night, and tomorrow morning you can decide what you want to do.’

Maisie looked from one to the other and her bottom lip trembled. ‘I ain’t religious. I don’t want no sermon.’

‘I promise you that won’t happen,’ Rose said, holding out her hand. ‘You’ll just have to trust us, and let’s face it – anything is better than drowning in filthy water.’

‘Yes, do come with us,’ Cora pleaded. ‘I’m so tired that I could sleep on the cold pavement and my feet are aching.’

Maisie nodded dully. ‘All right, but just for tonight. I ain’t a charity case.’

‘Of course not.’ Rose started off in the direction of St Matthew’s church, leading Maisie by the hand.

The vicarage was situated close to the church in a respectable middle-class area. The wide streets were lined with terraced houses built in the Georgian era, and the dwellings were well maintained. Unlike some of the surrounding streets, this part of Islington exuded an air of comfortable prosperity.

Rose guided Maisie through the garden to the back of the house and Cora rapped on the kitchen door. It was opened almost immediately by their cook-housekeeper, Mrs Blunt. She was ready for bed, wearing a long robe, and her nightcap sat askew on her head.

‘Where have you been, young ladies? Your pa has waited up for you.’ She glared at Maisie. ‘Who is this?’

Cora stepped inside. ‘We’re so sorry to have kept you up, dear Mrs Blunt.’

‘But we were helping Aunt Polly,’ Rose added hastily. ‘And we came across this young girl who is in desperate need of warmth and comfort.’

Mrs Blunt stood arms akimbo, looking Maisie up and down. ‘Runaway servant, I’d guess. We can’t take in all the waifs and strays in the city, Miss Rose.’

‘It’s just for tonight, and I rather think it’s up to Pa to decide,’ Rose said firmly. She tempered her words with a persuasive smile. ‘A nice hot cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss, and a slice of your seed cake would go down well, I’m sure.’ She turned to Maisie without giving Mrs Blunt a chance to refuse. ‘You have never tasted anything as good as Mrs Blunt’s caraway cake. She is the best cook in Islington.’

‘The best in London,’ Cora said, smothering a yawn. ‘Might I have a cup of warm milk, please? I’m ready for bed.’

‘Miss Day works you girls far too hard. That’s my opinion and I don’t mind saying so.’ Mrs Blunt hurried over to the range and moved the kettle to the hob. She turned to Maisie. ‘You can make yourself useful, child. Fetch the milk jug from the marble slab in the larder, and bring the cake as well.’ She pointed to the cupboard on the far side of the room. ‘Chop chop.’

Maisie stood like a statue, as if her limbs had suddenly turned to marble. ‘I’ll help you.’ Cora took her by the arm and guided her as she might a sleepwalker.

Rose could see that her sister had the situation in hand. ‘I’ll go and tell Pa that we’re home.’ She left them and made her way down the gaslit passage that led into the entrance hall of the draughty, rambling vicarage. The front parlour was to the right of the wide staircase, and it was where the family gathered in the evenings, and after church on Sundays. Rose entered the room to find her father pacing the floor.

‘Pa, I’m so sorry we’re late.’ She could tell by the strained expression on his deeply lined face that he had been angered by their lengthy absence, and for the first time she felt guilty even though she and Cora were carrying out their deception for the best of reasons. ‘I’m afraid it was unavoidable.’

Seymour Perkins glowered at his elder daughter. ‘It isn’t safe for you girls to be walking home un-escorted at this time of night. Polly ought to know better than to keep you so late, and I will tell her so in no uncertain terms next time we meet.’

‘It wasn’t Aunt Polly’s fault,’ Rose said quickly. ‘She had some trouble with two of the women, it’s true, but that didn’t hold us up.’ She moved to her father’s side, laying her hand on his arm. ‘Do sit down. You look worn to the bone, Pa. You work too hard.’

He subsided onto a chair by the fire, which had burned down to a few glowing embers. ‘The end of winter seems to accelerate the death rate amongst the frail and elderly. I’ve been attempting to comfort the dying and take care of the bereaved since dawn this morning.’

‘I know, Pa.’ Rose looked into his face, experiencing a surge of tenderness that made her throat constrict and her eyes sting with unshed tears. Her father seemed to have aged suddenly, or perhaps she had not noticed the passing of the years. The man who had been a strict disciplinarian when she, Billy and Cora were children had grown old, although he had not mellowed with age. ‘I’m truly sorry that we added to your worries.’

‘I applaud the fact that you and your sister work so tirelessly with the unhappy women in Polly’s care, but I cannot have you neglecting the poor of this parish. Your mama is too frail to undertake the duties my calling thrust upon her.’

A wave of shame made Rose look away. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and she could not look her father in the eye. ‘There’s another reason we were late, Pa. We came across a young girl who was about to hurl herself off the City Basin bridge. Cora and I persuaded her not to jump, and we’ve brought her home. I was hoping she could stay tonight and perhaps we could take her to Aunt Polly in the morning.’

Seymour’s lips hardened into a thin line of dis-approval. ‘I suppose it’s the usual story.’

‘I fear so. Maisie hasn’t told us much, but no doubt the whole sorry tale will come out as she begins to put her trust in us.’

‘She must remain here, where she is safe from temptation. It’s probably best if you make her comfortable for the night and I’ll see her tomorrow when she’s rested.’

‘I’ll do that, and you must get some sleep, too. You look exhausted.’ Rose kissed him on the cheek, but the sudden look of suspicion on her father’s face made her withdraw hastily as she realised her mistake.

He gave her a reproachful look. ‘Have you taken up smoking, Rose? I can smell it in your hair.’

‘No, certainly not, Pa.’ She struggled to think of a convincing reason for her exposure to such a substance. ‘It must have come from the home, Pa. Polly allows the women to smoke if it calms them down. They have little enough enjoyment in life.’

‘It seems to me that they’ve had a little too much enjoyment for their own good,’ he said, frowning. ‘I should have known better than to accuse you of such a thing. You have always tried to be a good daughter.’

She made a move towards the doorway. ‘I’ll see to Maisie, and then I’m going to bed. Things will look better in the morning.’

Maisie was seated at the kitchen table, devouring cake as if it were her last meal on earth, and in between each bite she swallowed a mouthful of hot tea. Cora looked up, meeting Rose’s gaze with a shrug. ‘Mrs Blunt will have to make another seed cake in the morning. I told her to go to bed; the poor old thing looked worn out.’

‘Don’t let her hear you calling her old,’ Rose said, chuckling. ‘Mrs Blunt is in her prime, or so she keeps telling me, but I think it has something to do with Mr Spinks, the butcher. Ma told me that he delivers the meat in person these days, instead of sending his boy. I think he’s sweet on Mrs Blunt.’

‘Or maybe he likes her cooking.’ Cora put her cup of warm milk aside. ‘I have to go to bed, Rose. I’m dead on my poor aching feet.’

‘I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble,’ Maisie said through a mouthful of cake. ‘I can sleep on the floor by the range. It’s what I’m used to.’

‘Not while you’re in our house.’ Rose picked up the teapot and filled a cup, adding a dash of milk. ‘You can have the boxroom. It’s small but the bed is quite comfortable, and tomorrow we’ll have a proper talk and decide what is to be done.’

Cora rose to her feet. ‘Come with me, Maisie. I’ll take you to your room and I’ll lend you a nightgown. Everything will look brighter in the morning.’

Maisie stuffed the last few crumbs of cake into her mouth and drained her teacup. She stood up, covering her mouth in an attempt to quieten a loud belch. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bolted me grub, but I ain’t eaten since yesterday and that cake was bloody good.’ She blushed and lowered her gaze. ‘Begging your pardon for the bad language.’

‘That’s all right, Maisie.’ Rose sank down on the nearest chair, overcome by a sudden wave of fatigue. ‘Sleep tight and wake bright.’

Next morning Rose was up early as usual. She had taken it upon herself to be first in the kitchen, where she set about riddling the ashes in the range and encouraged the remaining embers to burst into flame with the addition of some kindling. In days gone by the Perkins family had employed a scullery maid, but economies had had to be made as Rose’s mother’s delicate state of health necessitated spending money on doctor’s visits and medicines. Eleanor had continued her parish duties for as long as possible, but these days she relied more and more on help from her daughters. Rose loved and respected her mother, but she had seen her mother bend beneath her husband’s strong will, and fade like a flower in the desert. Seymour Perkins was a good man, but he had had little sympathy for weakness in others, and, Rose thought privately, he reserved his compassion for this flock.

As she entered the kitchen Rose discovered Maisie sound asleep, curled up on the mat in front of the range, but she awakened with a start and snapped into a sitting position, staring round bleary-eyed.

‘You give me a turn, miss,’ she said, yawning. ‘I couldn’t think where I was for a moment.’

‘Did you sleep here all night?’ Rose asked curiously. ‘Weren’t you comfortable in your bed?’

‘I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t want to appear ungrateful, but I ain’t used to such softness. I felt more at home here.’ Maisie scrambled to her feet. ‘Here, let me see to the fire for you. I can’t pay for me night’s lodgings so I should do something to help.’

Rose smiled and shook her head. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Maisie. Why don’t you go outside and fetch some water? There’s a bucket in the scull-ery and the pump is in the yard. You’ll feel better for a wash. I’ll put the kettle on, we’ll have some breakfast and you can tell me all about yourself.’

Maisie clasped her hands tightly in front of her, staring down at her scuffed boots. ‘There ain’t much to tell, but I suppose you guessed that I got a bit of a problem.’

‘I’m sure we can sort something out, so try not to worry.’

‘Ta, miss. You’re a good ’un and no mistake.’ Maisie headed for the door that led into the scullery and Rose picked up the bellows. She applied them vigorously until flames licked around the coals. When she was satisfied with the result she followed Maisie out into the back yard, snatching a towel from the airing rack as she went past.

Maisie had taken her at her word and had stripped off the borrowed nightgown and stood shivering in her chemise as she doused herself in cold water. Rose handed her the towel. ‘I was going to heat some water so that you could wash at the sink. It’s a bit chilly out here.’

Maisie tossed her wet hair back from her face and patted herself dry. ‘I’m used to it, miss. We had to wash outdoors even if it was snowing. The mistress was very strict about things like that.’

‘You’re soaked to the skin, Maisie. You’ll need dry clothes and I can help you there.’

‘Like I said before, I ain’t a charity case, miss,’ Maisie said through chattering teeth. ‘I’ll dry out in the warmth of the kitchen and me duds is wearable, thanks to you and the other young miss.’ Maisie’s lips curved in an irrepressible grin. ‘They would have been covered in stinking mud if it hadn’t been for you and your sister.’

‘Mrs Blunt came down after Cora put you to bed and took it upon herself to put them in to soak. They were a little grubby and in need of a patch or two. But there’s no need to worry, Maisie; we have a missionary barrel filled with perfectly good clothes.’ Rose picked up the bucket and headed indoors. ‘Kind-hearted people donate them for those in need, and at the moment you qualify without question. Let’s see what we can find, and then we’ll have some tea and toast.’

Under the mildly disapproving eye of Mrs Blunt, who had erupted into the kitchen ready to take control of her small empire, Rose sorted out a set of underwear from the overflowing missionary barrel, together with a cotton print frock and a woollen shawl. Maisie seemed to forget her troubles and pirouetted around the kitchen like the child she was. Rose watched her, smiling indulgently, but was conscious of the fact that Maisie was a fourteen-year-old who would soon become a mother. The vexing question was whether or not the father would take any responsibility for her and the baby. Rose waited until they were seated at the breakfast table before she asked Maisie anything, starting with her early life, which turned out to be in a foundling home.

‘I was left on the doorstep,’ Maisie said, licking jam off her fingers. ‘They told me I was about a month old, or thereabouts, but there weren’t no note or anything that would identify me, so I don’t know where I come from.’

‘Some mothers deserve horsewhipping,’ Mrs Blunt said in a low voice. ‘I was never blessed with a child, and yet some women have them like shelling peas. There’s no justice in this world.’

Rose sipped her tea, eyeing Maisie thoughtfully. ‘So you have no one to turn to now?’

‘No, miss. That’s why I was ready to jump.’

‘And the father isn’t prepared to help?’

Maisie threw her head back and laughed, but it was not a humorous sound. ‘Lawks, miss, that’s why I got the sack. The mistress noticed me belly was getting bigger and she made me tell her the truth, but when I said it were the master what got me in the family way she boxed me ears and turned me out on the street. Mind you, I never expected nothing more. The tweeny told me about one of the housemaids who caught the master’s eye. She ended up in the workhouse with her nipper. That’s not going to happen to me.’

‘It most certainly is not,’ Rose said firmly. ‘My aunt runs a home for girls who are in your unfortunate position.’ She held up her hand as Maisie opened her mouth to protest. ‘And she’s very kind and understanding. If you want to keep your baby she will do her best to make it possible, or, if you cannot see your way to bringing up a child on your own, she will find a family who will give the infant a loving home.’

Maisie toyed with a piece of buttered toast. ‘I wouldn’t want me kid to grow up not knowing who its mother was. My ma dumped me like a bundle of washing and never give me another thought. I used to sit in the window of the foundling home wishing that she would come and get me, but she never did. I don’t want that for my baby.’

Rose and Mrs Blunt exchanged worried glances. ‘You’ll have to do what’s best for the child,’ Mrs Blunt said sternly. ‘You’re young, Maisie. You’ll get over it in time.’

Maisie pushed her plate away and her eyes filled with tears. ‘But she won’t. I know it’s a little girl and I ain’t going to desert her.’

Rose stood up, holding out her hand. ‘Come with me, Maisie. I’m taking you to my aunt Polly. She’ll take care of you and your baby. She’s helped countless young women in your position.’

‘I dunno,’ Maisie said warily. ‘She’s not one of them women what—’

‘No, she most certainly is not. Put that idea out of your head, because I wouldn’t think of sending you to one of those backstreet practitioners. I’m going to fetch my bonnet and shawl and we’ll be off.’

Rose and Maisie arrived at the house in Old Street and Sukey opened the door.

‘You’re early, miss.’ She gave Maisie a knowing look. ‘Another one, I suppose.’

‘Is my aunt up yet, Sukey?’

‘I don’t think so, Miss Rose. I’ll go and see.’

Sukey shambled off towards the staircase and Rose ushered Maisie into the parlour.

‘Well, I never did,’ Maisie muttered as she gazed around the room. ‘I never seen nothing like this in all me born days.’

Rose was used to the somewhat bizarre collection of memorabilia, but seeing it through a stranger’s eyes she had to admit that it was a little eccentric. ‘My aunt was a celebrated performer in her day,’ she said by way of an explanation. ‘She sang and danced on most of the great stages in London.’

‘Really?’ Maisie’s eyes widened and she stared at Rose open-mouthed. ‘I’d give anything to go to a music hall. I’ve seen buskers singing on street corners, but I’ve never been in a proper theatre, have you, Miss Rose?’

‘Well, I …’ Rose was saved from answering by the sudden appearance of Polly, who made a grand entrance wearing a diaphanous silk wrap and a frilled nightcap. She came to a halt, peering at Maisie through her lorgnette. ‘Who is this child, Rose?’

‘This is Maisie, Aunt Polly.’ Rose turned to Maisie, raising her eyebrows. ‘What is your surname? I’m afraid I forgot to ask.’

‘I’m Maisie Monday, and before you enquire as to how I come by such a moniker, they give it me at the foundling home because it was on a Monday morning when they come across me on the doorstep.’

Polly shooed Spartacus off the chaise longue and took his place amongst the colourful cushions. The cat arched his back and his tail twitched angrily, but as if to show his independence he strolled over to Maisie and rubbed himself against her skirts. With a cry of delight she had scooped him up in her arms, before either Rose or her aunt could warn her that Spartacus bit and scratched, as the mood took him.

‘You’re a beautiful pussycat,’ Maisie cooed, rocking him in her arms like a baby.

‘I’d be careful if I were you,’ Rose said hastily, but Spartacus, contrary to the last, closed his eyes and began to purr.

‘Bless my soul, who would have thought it?’ Polly threw up her hands. ‘That creature can kill a rat with one bite, and now just look at him. You must have a way with animals, Maisie Monday. Can you charm the birds out of the trees?’

‘I dunno, miss. I never tried.’

‘Maisie is in need of your help, Aunt,’ Rose said calmly. ‘I’m sure she’ll tell you her story in time.’

‘First things first, Rose. Ring for Sukey, please. I’m in desperate need of sustenance. One of my girls went into labour after you left last night and it took three of us to get her over to the Lying-ln Hospital. Poor thing, she was convinced that they would take the baby from her and sell it to the highest bidder. Lord knows where she got such an idea, but she struggled back across the road at four in the morning with the child in her arms. One of the attendants from the hospital ran after her, trying to persuade her to return to her bed. It was quite a scene.’

Rose tugged at the bell pull. ‘You must be fagged out, Aunt. I’m sorry I disturbed you but Maisie is in dire need of a place to stay until her baby is born. Her employer threw her out on the street, and when Cora and I came upon her last evening she was in a desperate state.’

‘Quite so,’ Maisie said emphatically. ‘I were about to jump off the bridge when the young ladies come upon me and dragged me to the ground. Ever so kind, they was.’ Her brown eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in Spartacus’s fur.

Rose held her breath, hoping that Spartacus would not suddenly turn feral, but he was behaving like a pampered pet.

‘I suppose it’s the usual story,’ Polly said, sighing.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Rose kept her gaze fixed on Spartacus and was ready to snatch him from Maisie’s arms should he show signs of growing tired of her embrace, but the cat appeared to be completely relaxed and his purring echoed round the room. He did not even stir when a tap on the door preceded Sukey barging into the room.

‘You rang, Miss Polly?’ She caught sight of Maisie and the cat and her jaw dropped. ‘Best put him down, girl. He’ll have your eye out in a minute. Nasty beast … he’s got an evil streak.’

Maisie cuddled him closer. ‘No, you’re mistaken, ma’am. He’s a sweet little puss, and I love him already.’

‘Has this one escaped from the lunatic asylum across the street?’ Sukey turned to Polly with her hands outstretched. ‘We’ve got enough trouble with the other harlots, miss. You aren’t going to take a loony on as well, surely?’

Rose was about to protest but Polly waved Sukey’s protest aside with a casual flick of her fingers. ‘Maisie Monday has come to join us, and she is saner than you or I, if it comes to that.’

‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ Sukey muttered, just loud enough for all to hear. ‘What do you want, miss?’

‘Coffee, Sukey. A large pot of coffee, and you can add a nip or two of brandy.’

‘At this time in the morning, Aunt Polly?’ Rose glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf, which was partly obscured by a large ostrich feather fan. However, she could make out most of the numerals, and it was only a little after half-past eight.

‘As I said, Sukey, coffee and a touch of brandy to revive me.’

‘Yes, Miss Polly.’ Sukey hobbled out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Polly turned to Rose with a bright smile. ‘You might find yourself resorting to such tactics in time to come, my pet. I have a busy day ahead of me and I dare say that you have too. I suppose Eleanor has taken to her bed as usual.’

‘I haven’t seen Mama since yesterday afternoon,’ Rose said quickly. ‘She was quite well then.’

‘My sister is a good woman, but she has always used her delicate constitution as an excuse to get her own way.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Rose protested.

‘I’ve known her a lot longer than you, Rose. It started when we were children and Eleanor discovered that illness was a useful tool when it came to dealing with our father, who was inordinately strict. His parishioners were terrified of him and his sermons could conjure up visions of hellfire that had them trembling in their seats.’

‘He was a fierce old gentleman,’ Rose said, chuckling. ‘I was always very good when we were taken to visit him and Grandmamma, but Cora was his favourite.’

‘Cora takes after your mother. You, alas, are more like me. I was the rebel who challenged authority and suffered the consequences.’

‘I’m no rebel, Aunt.’

‘Are you not?’ Polly put her head on one side, eyeing Rose with an amused smile. ‘I’ll say no more on the subject.’ She tapped the side of her aquiline nose, nodding in Maisie’s direction. ‘Little pitchers have big ears, as they say. Anyway, I won’t keep you as I know you have a long day ahead of you. Leave the child with me. I’ll look after her and I’ll see you and Cora this evening.’

‘You will, of course.’ Rose moved to Maisie’s side, but when she attempted to stroke his head Spartacus opened one eye and stopped purring. She withdrew her hand hastily. ‘I’m leaving now, Maisie, but I know you’ll be well cared for here, and I might see you this evening.’

‘You’re coming back just to see me?’ Maisie stared at her in surprise. ‘Really?’

‘Of course. I want to make sure that you’re happy and settled, but Cora and I usually call in to see Aunt Polly after work.’

‘You work? What do you do? I thought you was rich.’

‘It would take too long to explain now.’ Rose looked to her aunt for help, but Polly shrugged. ‘But we’ll talk about it some other time.’

Maisie set Spartacus down on the floor. ‘You won’t just leave me here, will you, miss?’ Her voice rose in panic as she caught Rose by the sleeve. ‘I’m scared.’

‘There’s no need to be frightened,’ Rose said, giving her a quick hug. ‘Aunt Polly is the kindest person I know, and I come here often so you’ll see quite a lot of me. I won’t abandon you, Maisie.’

With obvious reluctance Maisie released her hold. ‘All right. I believe you, miss.’ She shot a sideways glance at Polly. ‘If you’re sure she’s all right.’

‘I may seem old to a child like you,’ Polly said irritably, ‘but I’m not deaf. Come and sit down, you silly girl, and I’ll tell you what your duties will be.’

Rose hesitated in the doorway, giving Maisie an encouraging nod and a smile.

‘I ain’t afraid of hard work.’ Maisie perched on the edge of a chair. ‘I’m used to scrubbing floors and washing dishes.’

‘That’s as maybe, but we have all those jobs in hand. I think I will put you in charge of Spartacus. He’s a grumpy old chap and most of my girls are scared of him, and Cook chases him with a carving knife when he steals food from the larder. It will be your job to take care of him and make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.’

Maisie put her head on one side, eyeing Polly like an inquisitive robin. ‘If he’s such a pest why do you keep him?’

‘Because he’s a brilliant mouser and rat catcher. He earns his living, but he has to be kept in order. Can you do that? Speak up if it’s too much for you.’

‘It ain’t much of a job. I’d say it was more a pleasure. I’ll do it and more.’

Polly held out her hand. ‘Then we have a deal.’

Rose was smiling as she left the house. Aunt Polly had hit on the one thing that would make it easier for Maisie to settle into her new home. Coming as she did from a reasonably close family, Rose could only imagine what it must be like to be raised in an institution. She quickened her pace; this was the day when she and Cora visited the sick and the needy in the parish, taking jars of calf’s-foot jelly and beef tea. If Mrs Blunt was feeling particularly generous she would add some of her small sweet cakes, which she said would tempt the most jaded appetite. Rose took charge of these in case Cora was tempted to sample a few during the long walk; a habit that had endured since childhood when their mother had been well enough to undertake parish duties.

She arrived home to find Cora alone in the dining room, yawning and seemingly half-asleep over a bowl of porridge.

‘Have you seen Pa this morning?’ Rose asked.

‘He was called out to baptise a newborn that wasn’t expected to live,’ Cora said sleepily.

Rose reached for the coffee pot and filled a cup, adding a dash of milk and a lump of sugar. The walk in the chill of the early morning had sharpened her appetite, and, even though she had eaten earlier, she buttered a slice of toast. ‘Is Ma up yet?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Cora pushed her plate away. ‘Mrs Blunt said you’d taken Maisie to Aunt Polly.’

‘I did and you’ll never guess what happened.’ Rose bit into the toast, chewed and swallowed. She reached for the raspberry jam and spooned some on the side of her plate.

‘I’m too tired to work out a conundrum, Rosie. I couldn’t sleep for thinking of Gerard.’

Rose paused with the toast halfway to her lips. ‘Gerard? Who is he?’

‘The handsome young man I was talking to at Fancello’s last night. Didn’t you see him?’

‘I saw dozens of men, but the only one I remember was the dear old colonel. He was such a gentleman.’

Cora sighed. ‘Gerard is a gentleman. He’s the Honourable Gerard Barclay, and he’s the younger son of Lord Barclay.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Cora, show a little sense,’ Rose said crossly.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Cora’s lips formed a sulky pout. ‘You’re just jealous.’

‘Don’t be silly. I can’t even remember what he looked like, but he’ll be a toff on the lookout for a pretty girl to flirt and amuse himself with.’

‘You don’t know that. He was perfectly charming.’

‘I’m sure he was, but if he’s there tonight you must ignore him. Don’t allow yourself to be taken in. I don’t know anything about him or his family, but what I do know is that they don’t mix with the likes of us.’

‘We’re perfectly respectable girls. Pa is a clergyman. He speaks directly to God.’

Rose choked on a mouthful of coffee, unable to stifle a chuckle. ‘Tell that to Lord Barclay and note his reaction. I’m sorry, Corrie dear, but you know the rules. We mustn’t get involved with anyone at Fancello’s. We have to carry on until we have enough money to hire a lawyer.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten. How could I forget? But I think sometimes you get carried away with being on the stage. I think you enjoy it.’

‘I do. I admit that, and you do too, if you’re being honest. I love the excitement and the applause, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to perform at the Grecian or the Pavilion, but that’s not going to happen.’ Rose finished her slice of toast and drained her cup. ‘Come on, Corrie. We’ve got to do our duty in the parish, but tonight we can put on our greasepaint and our costumes and make believe. Gerard comes into that category, and you must keep him there. He mustn’t find out who you are.’

Cora rose from her seat. ‘I know, and yes, you’re right.’

‘I understand it’s hard, Cora,’ Rosa said gently, ‘but we’re doing well so far.’ She stood up, brushing crumbs from her skirt. ‘I’m going to see if Mrs Blunt has finished packing the baskets and then we’ll set off. At least it’s not raining and the sun is trying to come out, so maybe it will be a nice day after all.’

Despite her cheerful words Rose could not help feeling anxious as she made her way to the kitchen. Cora was sweet-natured and affectionate, and she always saw the best in people. Gerard Barclay had obviously made a deep impression on her and it could prove disastrous. Rose loved her sister and she was determined to protect her, but they must not lose sight of their goal. She opened the kitchen door and was greeted by a flustered Mrs Blunt.

‘Thank goodness you came. There’s a messenger at the back door who refuses to go away unless he speaks to you in person. I tried to make him see sense, but he says he’ll stand there all day if necessary.’

‘Really? I don’t know who that could be.’ Rose frowned, thinking hard. ‘I’ll go and see what he wants.’




Chapter Three (#u01cc978d-8111-5418-9d9b-3d6731c642a8)


Rose hurried through the scullery, wondering why a messenger would choose the back door over the front entrance. It seemed unusual for one of her father’s flock to make a mystery of what would probably turn out to be a request to visit the dying or a plea for help. She opened the door and came face to face with a scruffy youth whose ragged clothes might have fitted him once, but were now too short in the arms, and his trouser legs ended an inch or so above his shabby boots where the uppers had come away from the soles, exposing muddy toes.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked warily.

‘I got a message for you, miss.’ The boy glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see spies lurking in the shrubbery.

‘Well, what is it?’

‘A certain gent what’s been doing work for a professional person in Cornwall has asked to see you, miss. It’s urgent.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Rose said carefully. ‘You’ll need to explain further.’

The boy snatched off his battered cap exposing a mass of wildly curling red hair. ‘The gent what I speak of will be in The Eagle at noon. He begs you to attend, miss. He says it’s of the utmost importance.’

‘Has this man a name?’

‘He give me tuppence to keep mum. Will you come, miss? I’ll wait for you on the corner and take you there safe. You won’t come to no harm when you’re in the company of Bobby Lee.’

Rose thought quickly. If she managed to persuade Cora to hurry they might be able to do the rounds before midday, or at least they could visit the most pressing cases, although what Pa would say if he knew she was about to venture into a public house was something she did not choose to dwell upon. She had probably damned her eternal soul for ever by exhibiting herself on stage, so one more transgression was unlikely to make any difference. She nodded. ‘All right, Bobby. I’ll meet you on the corner just before noon.’ She closed the door hastily and returned to the kitchen.

‘It was nothing,’ she said airily. ‘Just a youth desperate to find work. I sent him on his way.’

‘That’s right,’ Mrs Blunt said with a nod of approval. ‘He was probably hoping to cadge food, but these people shouldn’t be encouraged. There’s plenty of work out there for those who are willing to look hard enough for gainful employment.’ She sniffed and resumed kneading the bread dough as if she were beating it into submission.

‘I’m off then. Will you tell Mama that I’ll see her this afternoon? I didn’t want to disturb her this early in the morning.’ Rose picked up the heavy baskets and went to find her sister.

She discovered Cora preening herself in the hall mirror. ‘You look very pretty as always, Corrie, but I doubt if we’ll meet the Honourable Gerard Barclay where we’re going this morning.’

‘You are such a tease, Rose. Just wait until you meet the man of your dreams, although I can’t imagine who could live up to your ideals. He would have to be a cross between Richard the Lionheart and Lord Byron.’

‘What an imagination you have, to be sure,’ Rose said, laughing at the vision Cora’s words had conjured up in her mind. ‘But I have to admit that it would be an interesting combination. Anyway, we’d best hurry or we’ll never get done.’

All that morning, while handing out sympathy and nourishment to poor parishioners, Rose found it hard to concentrate on the task in hand. She let Cora do the talking, but that was not unusual as Cora had a way with people, especially those who were sick or aged. Rose was content to offer help, when required to do so, and give practical advice, should it be requested, otherwise she stood back and allowed her sister to shine. Everyone said that Miss Cora Perkins was a saint; Mrs Blunt had told Rose so with a smug smile, which confirmed Rose’s long-held suspicion that their housekeeper was also one of Cora’s many admirers. But jealousy had never been one of Rose’s failings, and she could quite see why her sister won hearts and minds. Cora was an angel whose only failing was vanity, although Rose considered this to be perfectly justified in someone who had the delicate beauty of a snowdrop, and a smile that would melt the hardest of hearts. Rose was well aware of her own worth, and if she were not quite as lovely as her sister, she knew that she had a quick mind and a ready wit. Her looks, as she had often been told, were striking and she had inherited the dark auburn hair and green eyes from her father’s side of the family. It was her brother, however, to whom she was especially close. When they were children she and Billy had often been mistaken for twins, and Rose felt his disgrace now as deeply as if it were her own. She missed him more than she could say, and she would do anything to bring her brother home, absolutely anything.

She was waiting on the corner of City Road and Oakley Crescent when Bobby Lee came swaggering along the pavement, hands in pockets. He greeted her with a cheery smile and she followed him at a discreet distance to The Eagle. It was the first time she had stepped inside a public house and she wrapped her shawl around her head, hoping that no one would recognise her. Bobby weaved his way between tables in the crowded taproom, and Rose was acutely conscious of the curious stares aimed her way. He led her to a settle by the fire where a man sat on his own with a pint tankard on the table in front of him. Through a haze of tobacco smoke that stung her eyes and made her want to cough, Rose took a good look at the person who had requested her presence in such a dramatic manner.

‘This here is the gent.’ Bobby indicated the man with a sweep of his hand.

‘You must be Miss Rose. I’m Todd Scully.’ He half stood and then sank back on the settle. His dark eyes scanned Rose’s face as if he were memorising each feature in turn, but his expression gave nothing away. ‘Take a seat, miss.’

Rose pulled up a stool and sat with her back to the rest of the drinkers. ‘Please say what you have to say, Mr Scully. I’m not comfortable in a place like this.’

A tight little smile played around Scully’s thin lips. ‘That’s not what I heard, Miss Perkins, or should I say Miss Sunshine?’

Rose glanced nervously over her shoulder, but the other customers were too involved in their own business to appear to be listening. ‘I don’t know where you got that piece of information, sir.’

‘Come on, miss. Don’t play games with me. I was hired by a certain someone in the county of Cornwall to find out all I could about the case in question, and, as you and your sister are related to the person at present incarcerated at Her Majesty’s pleasure, it seems logical to start with you.’

‘There’s not much I can tell you, Mr Scully. I don’t know the exact circumstances of the event.’

Scully leaned forward, fixing her with bright, beady eyes, oddly reminiscent of a blackbird about to snatch a worm from the soil. ‘What do you know about the deceased? He was, I’ve been informed, your brother’s friend. They knew each other at Oxford.’

Rose nodded dully. ‘Yes, that’s correct.’ She had met the young man in question on a couple of occasions when Billy had brought him to the vicarage for supper, but she had not been favourably impressed. Gawain Tressidick had struck her as being too full of his own importance, and although Billy had assured her that his friend came from an old and respected Cornish landowning family, she had not considered this to be an excuse for bad manners. Gawain had monopolised the conversation at dinner, and his patronising attitude to her parents had annoyed her to the extent that she had been tempted to get up and leave the room, but good manners had prevailed. It was tragic that he had lost his life in what appeared to have been a barroom brawl, but Rose could not believe that Billy had been involved. She knew that her brother had gone through a wild stage at university, but after the initial excitement of being away from home and free from the strict upbringing they had all endured, Billy had finally settled down and applied himself to his studies.

Scully was regarding her steadily. ‘Was there any bad feeling between them?’

‘No. Not that I know of.’ Rose felt a wave of resentment building up in her breast. What right had this man to call her brother’s good character in question? She met his bold stare with a frown. ‘My brother is the most good-natured, easy-going person you could wish to meet, and he was that person’s friend. No matter what the provocation he wouldn’t have stooped to violence.’

‘But what about the victim? What do you know of his temperament?’

‘Absolutely nothing.’ Rose lowered her voice. ‘I didn’t like him, but then I hardly knew him.’

Scully leaned back against the wooden settle and sipped his ale. ‘I need to ask these questions, you must understand that.’

Rose made as if to stand but he motioned her to remain seated. ‘There is one other thing.’

‘What is it?’ She was growing impatient now. They were attracting unwanted attention and she was desperate to leave before someone recognised her.

‘Money, Miss Rose.’ He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, which he spread out on the table in front of her. ‘My services were engaged by the lawyer defending the case. He wanted you to be aware of the costs that you will incur, and he needs your permission to proceed on that basis.’

Rose scanned the figures and her heart sank. She and Cora had saved every penny of their earnings at Fancello’s, but it would take months to raise such a large sum, if ever. She gulped and swallowed. ‘I understand perfectly.’

‘And you still wish to proceed?’

‘Of course I do. My brother’s life is at stake. If found guilty he will suffer the ultimate penalty, and I know he is innocent. I’d stake my own life on it.’

A slow smile spread across Scully’s craggy features. ‘That’s all I need to know, miss. Rest assured that I will do my best.’

‘Perhaps you would discover more about the person in question if you visited his college in Oxford.’

‘That is next on my list, Miss Rose.’ Scully beckoned to Bobby, who was warming himself by the fire. ‘See the young lady home, boy.’

Rose folded the sheet of paper and tucked it into her reticule. ‘I’ll keep this, if I may, and then I can refer to it if need be.’ She stood up. ‘I know you will do your best, Mr Scully, but I beg you to double your efforts. You will be saving an innocent man from the gallows.’

Scully raised his tankard. ‘I’ll drink to that. Rest assured that everything that can be done will be done.’

Rose made her way out of the taproom, half blinded by smoke and fumes as well as the hot tears that burned the backs of her eyes. Scully’s visit had made the threat to Billy’s life a reality instead of a vague possibility, and now more than ever she knew she must raise the money to pay for his defence. She did not feel like going home to face a barrage of questions from Cora, and she needed to find out exactly how much they had managed to save. Aunt Polly had been entrusted with keeping the money safe as it was not possible for the sisters to open a bank account, and hiding the money in the vicarage was not an option. Rose set off for the house in Old Street, having forgotten that Bobby had been charged with her safety, and it was not until she was on the doorstep that she realised he had followed her. She hesitated with her hand on the doorknocker. ‘Thank you, Bobby. You can go now.’

His freckled features creased in a worried frown. ‘But I was told to see you home, miss. This ain’t the vicarage.’

‘It’s my aunt’s house, so you need not worry.’

‘I got to see you home,’ he said with a stubborn set to his jaw. ‘That was me instructions from Mr Scully, and I don’t get paid unless I tell him I done so.’

Rose knocked on the door. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a while.’

He leaned nonchalantly against the railings. ‘That’s all right, miss. I got nothing else to do, and I need the money for me night’s lodgings.’

‘Haven’t you got a home to go to?’

‘I doss down wherever I can.’

Rose was about to question him further when Maisie opened the door. ‘Good afternoon, miss.’ She grinned and threw herself at Rose, almost knocking her off the step as she wrapped her in a warm embrace. ‘I ain’t half pleased to see you. I was afraid you might not come again.’

‘Here, you be careful, like.’ Bobby leaped onto the step and steadied Rose, who had staggered backwards and was in danger of toppling over. ‘Watch your manners, nipper.’

Maisie stepped away, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. ‘And who might you be?’

He snatched his cap off his head with a flourish and bowed from the waist. ‘I’m this lady’s protector, just for today, you understand. Anyway, who’s asking, if I might be so bold?’

Rose suppressed a chuckle. ‘Behave yourselves, both of you. Let me in, Maisie, I want to see my aunt.’ She turned to Bobby. ‘Thank you, but you’re free to go. I might be a little while.’

‘I was told to see you home,’ he insisted. ‘And see you home I shall.’

‘Then you’d better step inside because it’s starting to rain.’ Rose glanced up at the darkening sky. Large spots of rain had begun to fall and the gathering clouds promised a sharp downpour. ‘Maisie will take you to the kitchen where I’m sure Cook will find you something to eat and drink.’

Bobby bounded into the hall and closed the door. ‘Ta, miss. I wouldn’t say no to a bite to eat. Come to think of it, nothing has touched me lips since last evening when I bought a baked tater from a cart. Very good it were, too.’

Maisie gave him a cursory glance. ‘You could do with a wash, boy. You’re very dirty.’

Rose could see that this might turn into a squabble but she left them to sort themselves out and went in search of her aunt. At this time of day Polly was usually to be found in the small cubbyhole she called her study, where she pored over the accounts. As Rose had expected, Polly was seated at her desk with a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles balanced on the bridge of her nose.

She looked up. ‘Is anything wrong, Rose?’

‘I’ve just been speaking to a private detective, a Mr Scully. Billy’s lawyer hired him to find out what he could about Gawain Tressidick.’ Rose perched on the edge of the desk. ‘I couldn’t tell him much.’

‘Did he think you and Tressidick were close?’

Rose stared at her in horror. ‘Good heavens, no. Why would he think like that?’

‘If true, it could have been the reason for the fight between William and Tressidick.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Rose said slowly. ‘But I barely knew Gawain, and what I did know I didn’t like. I told Scully that much, and now he’s gone to Oxford to see if he can find out anything there.’

‘So what is the problem, Rose?’

‘It’s money, or rather the lack of it.’ Rose took the bill from her reticule and laid it on the desk. ‘We have to find that much in order to pay Mr Scully, in addition to the lawyer’s fee and expenses. I doubt if we have that much saved.’

Polly studied the figures. ‘No, indeed. That’s a hefty bill. I hope he’s a good detective.’

‘Billy’s life depends upon it, Aunt Polly. We have to raise the money quickly.’

‘I’d help you if I could, but we barely manage day by day and we rely entirely on charity.’

‘You’ve done more than enough. It’s up to Cora and me. Perhaps we can squeeze a few more performances in, if the pay is right. There has to be a way.’

Signor Fancello listened with his head on one side and a calculating gleam in his dark eyes. ‘Two shows a night,’ he said, twirling the waxed end of his moustache round his index finger. ‘And that means every night of the week, shall we say for a month?’

Rose swallowed convulsively. ‘We cannot work on Sunday, signor. It is impossible.’

‘You ask me to give you more employment and then you try to bargain with me.’ He threw up his hands. ‘You English, you do not know what hard work is. How do you think I built up my business when I arrived in London?’

‘We have to attend church on Sundays, signor. We cannot work on the Sabbath day.’

Fancello’s beetle brows drew together in a frown. ‘You want the money, you do the late show. It is not for you to dictate terms to me.’

Rose thought quickly. It would make life difficult, but she had no choice. There had never been any question of family members missing Sunday services, unless they were too ill to attend. Both she and Cora took Sunday school classes, and after evensong, at half-past seven on the dot, everyone gathered in the dining room to enjoy a cold collation as it was Mrs Blunt’s evening off. Her preferred way of spending her leisure time was to sit in the rocking chair by the range, knitting shapeless garments for the poor, while Rose and Cora tackled the washing-up in the scullery.

Rose shook hands with Fancello. ‘Very well, I accept. When do we start?’

‘Two performances a night, every day of the week except tomorrow, which is Sunday, but I expect you here in time for the nine o’clock performance.’ He gave her a wolfish smile. ‘And you will need to broaden your repertoire. Alphonso will guide you; he knows all the popular songs. And you had better speak to my wife about new costumes. That is her department.’ He wandered off, berating one of the waiters for breaking a glass.

Rose hurried to the tiny dressing room where Cora was struggling with her stays. She grabbed the laces and tugged on them until her sister gasped and begged for mercy.

‘Stop. I can’t breathe, let alone sing and dance.’

Rose loosened them a little before tying a bow. ‘There you are, now you can help me with mine.’ She slipped off her plain grey gown. ‘Undo me, please.’

‘What were you saying to old Fancello?’

‘We were haggling over the amount of extra performances.’ Rose breathed out with a sigh as Cora undid the laces. She reached for her wrap and flung it around her shoulders. ‘We’re going to do the late show tomorrow, as well as two performances a night.’

‘On Sunday? That’s not possible.’

‘Fancello won’t budge, and I’ve worked it out in my head, Corrie. We’ll slip away after supper.’

‘But it’s Mrs Blunt’s night off.’

‘I’m going to ask Maisie to come and do the washing-up. After all, we used to have a scullery maid and a housemaid before Mama became ill, and I’m sure that Maisie could do with the money.’

‘How will you explain it to Pa?’

‘I don’t know yet, but leave it to me. I’ll think of something. We have to do it for Billy.’

Rose began to apply her stage make-up, which was laid out on the narrow shelf that had to suffice as a dressing table. Each time she went through this routine she could see her mother’s face gazing reproachfully at her from the fly-spotted mirror.

Cora, however, did not seem to have such reservations. She was humming a tune and smiling as she rouged her cheeks and lips. ‘I do hope he’s here tonight.’ She made a moue at her reflection. ‘We’ll have more time to make friends with the patrons; that’s the good thing about doing two performances a night.’

‘Yes,’ Rose said doubtfully. ‘But don’t get too involved, Corrie. It’s all part of the entertainment, as far as the audience are concerned, so you mustn’t take it too seriously.’

‘Ten minutes, ladies,’ Tommy Tinker bellowed through the keyhole. ‘We’ve got a full house tonight.’

‘Thank you, Tommy.’ Rose and Cora spoke as one, exchanged amused glances and giggled. Tommy Tinker might pretend to be a man of the world, but he had burst into the dressing room on one occasion to find them both in a state of undress. He had blushed to the roots of his hair, turned and fled. He had always assumed a cocky air since then, but he never looked them in the eye.

Rose pinned a silk gardenia in her hair. ‘That will have to do. I’ve only got to put on my dancing shoes and I’m ready.’

Minutes later they were waiting in the wings, and Fancello was going through his usual patter as he introduced them to enthusiastic cheers and clapping from the largely male audience. Rose peeped through the curtains, noting that there were only a few women present, and without exception they were gaudily dressed persons who would not warrant an invitation to tea at the vicarage. Mama would consider them past redemption, and Papa would try to save their souls, but Rose had become acquainted with some of them and she was no longer judgemental. Each of them had her own story, and virtually all had suffered abuse and hardships that Rose could never have imagined. It was ironic that she and Cora were now teetering on the brink of respectability, and one little nudge was all it might take to send them tumbling into the abyss of ruined reputation and disgrace.

‘Stop daydreaming, Rosie,’ Cora said urgently. ‘We’re on.’

They pirouetted onto the stage, came to a halt with their hands clasped demurely in front of them, and launched into ‘The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze’, followed swiftly by their dance routine, with ‘Come into the Garden, Maud’ as an encore. They swept off into the wings, returning gracefully to loud applause, but Fancello was waiting for them this time. He had his arm around little Clementia, who was scowling ominously.

‘Don’t try to upstage my little girl,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Remember who pays your wages.’ He gave his daughter a hug. ‘You are on next, cara mia.’

Clementia curled her lip as she glared at Rose. ‘I’m the star,’ she muttered. ‘You’re just the chorus.’ She stomped off, leaving Rose wondering what could have upset Fancello’s pampered child prodigy.

‘Go out into the audience and do your bit, girls,’ Fancello said, jerking his head in the direction of the saloon. ‘I don’t pay you to laze around back stage.’

‘Yes, signor,’ Cora said meekly as she made her way down the steps. She paused. ‘I’ve seen him, Rosie. He’s all alone and he waved to me.’

‘Be careful.’ Rose followed her more slowly as Cora sashayed between the closely packed tables, acknowledging compliments with a sunny smile. Rose looked for the colonel but there was no sign of him and she was suddenly at a loss. A sea of expectant faces greeted her and she felt a moment of near panic. Physical contact with the patrons had never previously been part of the bargain and she almost envied Cora, who Rose guessed by the delighted look on her pretty face was being showered with compliments. Gerard Barclay was undeniably handsome and urbane, and, although Rose was suspicious of his motives, he seemed to be behaving like a perfect gentleman. She turned with a start as someone tugged at her skirt and found herself looking down at a person who was leering at her in a drunken manner, which was quite unnerving.

She managed a tight little smile. ‘Excuse me, sir. Would you be kind enough to unhand me?’

His answer was a loud guffaw as he pulled her onto his lap. ‘Now, now, darling. That’s no way to treat a paying customer.’ He slid his hands around her waist, holding her in a surprisingly strong grip. ‘You’re here to entertain me, so what about a kiss?’ His breath reeked of cigar smoke and brandy, and she noted in disgust that his white evening shirt was stained with wine and what looked suspiciously like gravy.

‘This is no way to behave,’ she said, forcing herself to remain calm.

‘Don’t be a spoilsport, young lady. Give him a kiss.’ One of his companions at the table leaned over and poked her in the ribs. ‘I know Carter of old. He won’t give up until you do.’

Rose was close to panicking. Clementia was warbling like a skylark, with Alphonso hammering out the tune, and all around her the cacophony of sound grew louder, filling her head with noise, while her attempts to get free from Carter’s clutching hands only seemed to excite him more. The tinkle of glassware and popping of champagne corks together with raised male voices and raucous laughter echoed in her head until she thought she could stand it no longer. She felt sick and suddenly everything went dark and she was falling …




Chapter Four (#u01cc978d-8111-5418-9d9b-3d6731c642a8)


‘Are you all right?’ A voice from far away brought Rose back to consciousness, and she opened her eyes, focusing with difficulty on the stranger’s face.

‘You fainted,’ he said calmly, ‘but you’re all right now.’ He held a glass of water to her lips. ‘Take small sips. You’ll soon feel better.’

‘I never swoon,’ she said shakily. ‘It must have been the heat.’

‘It was just a bit of fun.’ Carter shifted uncomfortably on his chair. ‘If the girl can’t take a joke she shouldn’t be working in an establishment like this. I’ll call Fancello over and tell him so.’ He raised his hand but the stranger caught him by the wrist and forced his arm to his side.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. I saw what occurred, and if I make a complaint you will find yourself barred from this saloon.’

Rose glanced over her shoulder, but Cora had eyes only for Gerard and he had the appearance of a man who was spellbound by a pretty face and winning ways. The other patrons were intent on their own pleasure and none of them was paying any attention to the drama being enacted at Carter’s table. His friends were trying to placate him, but Carter himself was too drunk to see sense. He staggered to his feet. ‘I should call you out, sir. You can’t talk to me in that insolent tone. Who are you, anyway?’

The stranger had been kneeling at Rose’s side, but when he stood up he was a good head taller than Carter, and although not heavily built he had the look of a man who knew how to handle himself. His winged eyebrows drew together in an ominous frown. ‘My name is Bennett Sharpe, barrister-at-law.’

Carter’s florid features paled visibly and he puffed out his cheeks. ‘What do I care what profession you follow, sir? You insulted me.’

‘You took advantage of this young lady.’ Bennett’s deep voice held a note of authority that did not seem to have been lost on the people seated around them, and they shifted uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging wary glances.

Rose clutched his arm. ‘It’s all right, sir. I’m truly grateful for your intervention, but I’m perfectly fine now. It must have been the heat. I beg you not to trouble yourself any further.’

Bennett silenced her with a single glance. ‘I know what I saw, and I dislike bullies.’ He turned to Carter. ‘You are in the wrong, sir. An apology to this young lady is required and then we’ll consider the matter closed.’

‘For God’s sake, say you’re sorry, old man.’ Carter’s vociferous friend slapped him on the back.

Out of the corner of her eye Rose had seen Fancello making his way towards them, and she held her breath. If Carter made a complaint against her it would not bode well. She tugged at Bennett’s sleeve. ‘Please say no more.’

He followed her gaze. ‘Is that the proprietor of this establishment?’

‘Yes, it is,’ Carter said angrily. ‘And I intend to complain about your behaviour, Mister Lawyer. Let’s see whose side Fancello takes. I am a regular and valued patron.’

Rose was about to release her hold on his arm, but Bennett forestalled her by laying his hand on hers. A smile transformed his stern features as he greeted Fancello. ‘A bottle of your best champagne, please, mine host. This pretty lady has agreed to share it with me.’

Fancello’s frown was wiped away in an instant. ‘Of course, sir. At once.’ He signalled to one of the waiters.

‘I say,’ Carter protested as Fancello chose to ignore him. ‘Deuced cheek.’

Bennett led Rose to a table on the far side of the room. ‘You will be more comfortable here,’ he said, pulling out a chair. ‘Take a seat, Miss Perkins.’

Rose stared at him aghast. ‘How do you know my name? Who are you, sir?’

‘Please sit down and try to look as though you’re enjoying yourself. Signor Fancello is staring at us even as he decides how much to overcharge me for a bottle of inferior quality champagne.’

Rose sank down on the spindly gilt chair. Her mouth was dry and her heart was racing. ‘You told me your name, Mr Sharpe, but you have the advantage over me.’

‘I have accepted the brief to defend your brother.’ Bennett took the seat opposite her. ‘I wanted to find out as much as I could of his background, and it was William himself who advised me to seek you out.’

‘Of course I’ll do everything I can to help my brother, but how did you find this place? No one knows that Cora and I work here.’

‘Todd Scully is one of the best private detectives in London. I believe you are acquainted with him.’

‘I’ve met him only once, and that was today.’ Rose lowered her voice. ‘Are you telling me that he has been spying on us?’

‘That’s a bit harsh. I prefer to call it gathering information in order to make a good case for your brother.’

‘If you’re defending Billy you must believe that he is innocent.’

‘What I believe or don’t believe is immaterial. My job is to convince a judge and jury of his innocence.’ Bennett leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes intent on her face, as if he were capable of reading her innermost thoughts. ‘This case interests me. I would normally leave it to a solicitor to provide me with the facts, but this is no ordinary brief. I find it hard to believe that a young man like William would kill a dear friend.’

‘He is a good man. I’ll never believe ill of my brother.’ Rose returned his intense gaze stare for stare, but was the first to look away. There was something about Bennett Sharpe that was unsettling.

‘He is lucky to have two such devoted sisters,’ Bennett said in a low voice. He looked as though he was about to say more but at that moment the waiter arrived with their champagne.

He uncorked the bottle with a theatrical flourish and filled two glasses, but then in answer to a summons from another client he scurried off with his tailcoat flapping like the wings of an agitated crow.

Bennett handed a glass to Rose and raised the other in a silent toast before taking a sip. He shook his head. ‘As I thought. A poor vintage being sold at a ridiculous price. However, that doesn’t matter. I came here tonight in the hope of meeting you and your sister.’

‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to visit us at my aunt’s house? I’m sure you already know the reason for our keeping this from our parents. What I don’t understand is why you felt it necessary to see us here.’

‘When Scully told me that two such respectable young ladies were prepared to risk their reputations by performing in a third-rate saloon, I wanted to see for myself.’

‘We’re working here to raise money to pay you for defending our brother, which, as it happens, will also pay for this bottle of champagne.’ Rose swallowed a mouthful and pulled a face: it was sharp and slightly bitter, and the bubbles tickled her nose.

‘You are not what I expected, Miss Perkins.’

‘Please don’t use my real name. Cora and I go by the name of the Sunshine Sisters.’

‘I’m sorry, of course you’re right, Miss Sunshine.’

She eyed him curiously. ‘What were you expecting?’

His eyes were alight with amusement, and his lips twitched. ‘I dare say you would be offended if I told you that my idea of a clergyman’s daughter was as unlike you and your sister as could be.’

‘I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or an insult.’

‘It was certainly not intended to be an insult, but I imagined you and your sister to be prim and proper young ladies who had been brought up to fear the Lord and serve the community. I was worried that my presence might be too much for such delicate sensibilities.’

‘You must have been terribly disappointed,’ Rose said, trying to keep a straight face and failing.

‘An illusion shattered for the better, I can assure you.’ His appreciative smile faded and his eyes darkened. ‘But this isn’t the sort of place for you and your sister. Have you tried to raise the money from family members or friends?’

‘There is no one we can ask, and Papa doesn’t know anything about this. It would break his heart if he discovered the truth.’

‘Where does he think his son is, if I may ask?’

‘He thinks that William is staying with the Tressidick family in Cornwall until Trinity term begins next month.’

‘So your parents know nothing about William’s arrest?’

‘No, and they mustn’t know. Papa would be devastated, and Mama is recovering from a bout of ill health. A shock like that might set her back weeks, if not months.’

‘It’s not a secret you can keep for ever. If the case goes against William he will face the death penalty.’

His words struck her like a knife to the heart. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘But it’s a possibility. All the evidence points to a drunken brawl, and there are witnesses who will testify that William struck the fatal blow.’

‘My brother is not a violent man. I don’t know what happened on that fateful night, but Gawain was Billy’s best friend and I know that my brother would never have hurt him intentionally.’

‘That is what I hope to prove. I’ll be in London for the next few days, and it would be helpful if we could meet again. I want to find out as much about William’s background as I can.’

Rose nodded eagerly. ‘Of course. I’ll do anything – absolutely anything – to help free Billy.’

‘I can see that.’ Bennett glanced over her shoulder. ‘But I think you are wanted, Miss Sunshine. I see Fancello advancing on us with a purposeful look in his eye.’

‘I’ll have to go,’ Rose said, rising to her feet. ‘When will we meet again?’

Bennett opened his mouth to reply, but was forestalled by Fancello. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but Miss Sunshine has another performance. We must not disappoint her other admirers.’

‘I’m coming, signor.’ Rose smiled and nodded in Bennett’s direction. ‘Thank you for the champagne, sir.’

‘That’s enough of that,’ Fancello hissed in her ear. ‘I pay you to keep all my customers happy, so don’t think you can pick and choose.’

‘No, signor. I understand.’

Holding her head high, Rose swept past him and made her way to the wings where Cora was waiting for her. She could tell by her sister’s heightened colour and the sparkle in her blue eyes that Gerard had proved to be an exciting companion.

‘I’ve had such a lovely time,’ Cora whispered. ‘He’s such a gentleman and he wants to take me driving in the park one afternoon. Do you think Papa would allow it?’

‘Are you mad?’ Rose grabbed her by the wrist. ‘You can’t tell anyone about this, least of all Pa.’

‘But that’s not fair.’ Cora’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. ‘He likes me, Rose. He really likes me.’

‘I’m sure he does. Don’t cry, Corrie. There’s our intro – we’re on stage, so smile.’

As they emerged from the smoky atmosphere of Fancello’s saloon into the darkness of Cupid’s Court, Rose was immediately aware of a tall figure loitering at the far end of the alley. He was silhouetted against the light of a streetlamp, but he appeared to be wearing an opera hat and cloak. Her conversation with Bennett had put all thoughts of Carter out of her head, but now she was nervous.

‘What’s the matter?’ Cora demanded. ‘Why have you stopped?’

‘It’s nothing,’ Rose said quickly. The last thing she wanted was to worry Cora, but her heart was thudding against her ribs and she was scared. ‘We must hurry or Aunt Polly will have retired for the night.’ Rose walked on, hoping that the man would go away, but it became obvious that he was waiting for them. He turned to face them and she saw to her relief that it was Bennett Sharpe.

‘Who is that man?’ Cora demanded breathlessly. ‘Do you know him?’

‘It’s all right, there’s no need to be scared,’ Rose said hastily. ‘I met him in Fancello’s. He’s a friend.’

‘And you thought I was being forward,’ Cora whispered. ‘At least I didn’t arrange an assignation with Gerard.’

‘It’s not like that. Trust me, Cora. This man is to defend Billy in court and he’s here to help us.’ Rose greeted Bennett with an attempt at a smile. ‘I didn’t realise you were waiting for us, Mr Sharpe.’

‘I thought it best if I were to escort you home.’

‘I recognise you now,’ Cora said slowly. ‘You’re the gentleman who put that dreadful man in his place. I was going to come over myself, but I could see that you had the matter well in hand. I’m Cora, by the way. The other half of the Sunshine Sisters act. How do you do, sir?’

Bennett’s expression softened and he bowed over Cora’s hand. ‘Bennett Sharpe. How do you do, Miss Sunshine?’

‘It sounds so odd when you say it that way, Mr Sharpe,’ Cora said, laughing.

Rose was accustomed to seeing strangers falling under her sister’s spell, and it was clear that Bennett was no exception, but it was getting late. ‘We have to call in at our aunt’s establishment in Old Street, and we need to get there before she locks up for the night.’

Cora tucked her hand in the crook of Bennett’s arm. ‘I expect Rose has told you everything, Mr Sharpe. The things we get up to might be the plot of a penny dreadful, but we have to go to great lengths to keep our secret, and we couldn’t do it without Aunt Polly’s help.’

Bennett proffered his free arm to Rose. ‘Anything that either of you can tell me will be of great value, and if you don’t want me to speak to your parents it might help if I can talk to your aunt.’

Polly was ready for bed and did not bother to disguise the fact that their late arrival was an annoyance. Her expression hardened when she saw Bennett.

‘Who is this? Why have you brought a man to my house? This is unacceptable behaviour for which there is no excuse, girls.’

‘It’s not what you think, Aunt Polly,’ Rose said hastily. ‘Mr Sharpe is the barrister who has been hired to defend Billy. He came to the saloon tonight to talk to us, and he’s going to see us home.’

‘You’d better come in.’ Polly showed them into her parlour. ‘You’re very late. I was about to go to bed.’

‘We’re so sorry. We didn’t know we were expected to do two shows this evening.’ Cora laid a hand on her aunt’s arm. ‘Don’t be cross, Aunt Polly.’

Polly shrugged, refusing to be pacified. ‘Your father would be horrified if he knew what you girls were up to. Quite honestly I’m beginning to regret my part in all this.’

‘Pa will be even more horrified if he discovers that his only son is awaiting trial for murder.’ Rose had not meant to speak so sharply, but it had been a long and exhausting day. ‘I’m sorry we’ve caused you to worry,’ she added apologetically. ‘But events have moved rapidly, and Mr Sharpe thinks we might be able to help.’

Polly clutched her robe around her, eyeing Bennett with suspicion. ‘I suppose you’re trying to justify a huge fee, sir? We’re poor people and these girls are risking more than their reputations in an attempt to raise the money for William’s defence.’

Bennett inclined his head. ‘As I discovered this evening, ma’am.’

‘I can’t talk to you now.’ Polly glared at him, refusing to be soothed by his apologetic smile. ‘It’s late and my nieces should be at home in bed. I’ll ask you to wait in the hall while they change into their street clothes, and then you may walk them home.’

‘I understand perfectly, ma’am. I hope you will excuse this intrusion and will allow me to call tomorrow at a more suitable hour.’

‘I’ll see you at noon. Don’t be late, I detest bad manners.’

‘I will be here on the dot, ma’am.’ Bennett left the room, closing the door behind him.

‘He’s trying to help us, Aunt Polly,’ Cora said mildly.

‘And he’s Billy’s only hope.’ Rose took off her bonnet and shawl. ‘I’m very sorry I couldn’t let you know that we would be late.’

‘Don’t be angry, Aunt Polly. I will cry if you scold us.’ Cora’s bottom lip trembled ominously. ‘I am so very tired.’

Rose stepped into her plain grey gown, fumbling with the tiny buttons on the bodice in her haste to get dressed. ‘We’ll be gone in a few minutes, and tomorrow we’ll have time to talk properly to Mr Sharpe and discover exactly how he plans to help Billy. You do want to help him, don’t you, Aunt?’

‘Silly girl, of course I do.’ Polly moved to a side table and poured a generous tot of brandy into a glass. She collapsed onto the sofa, took a sip and sighed. ‘I doubt if I’ll sleep a wink tonight. All these comings and goings are too much for me.’ She seized one of the many fans that were scattered about the room and used it vigorously.

Rose experienced a pang of guilt. Aunt Polly was not a young woman, and she worked hard to keep the unfortunates in her care from ending up in the workhouse. ‘You must say if our visits are too much for you. I know you are up at the crack of dawn every day.’

‘Are you insinuating that I’m too old to be of any use?’

‘No, of course she isn’t.’ Cora slipped her shawl around her shoulders. ‘You weren’t, were you, Rosie?’

‘Certainly not, but we don’t want to take advantage of your good nature, Aunt Polly.’ Rose moved to her aunt’s side and leaned over to brush Polly’s powdered cheek with a kiss. ‘You are a wonderful woman and we love you dearly. We couldn’t raise the money to save Billy without your help, and I know you will work your considerable charm on Mr Sharpe tomorrow. He’ll be eating out of your hand, just as the gentlemen used to when you were the toast of the London stage.’

Polly drained her glass of the last drop. ‘It’s true. I had my devoted following, but those days are long gone.’

‘I’m sure you could dance all night if you chose to do so, but you’ve taken a different path, Aunt. You look after women who are in desperate need, and I admire you for that.’ Rose patted her aunt on the cheek. ‘I think you are a heroine, Aunt Polly.’

‘Stuff and nonsense, girl.’ Polly’s pale cheeks flooded with colour, but despite her harsh tone she was smiling. ‘We agree on one thing, and that is the need to do everything we can to clear Billy’s name.’

‘That’s the only reason we’re appearing on stage, and now we have to work tomorrow night as well.’

‘But tomorrow is Sunday,’ Polly said, patently shocked by such a notion. ‘Your father wouldn’t like that.’

‘I hope he won’t find out, and that’s where we need your help, Aunt. Mrs Blunt has Sunday afternoon and evening off, so Cora and I do the washing-up. If we could have Maisie to do that for us we could get away without anyone being the wiser.’

‘I’m not sure that I ought to collude in such behaviour, but you can have Maisie. Heaven knows, she’s not much use here. She faints if she sees a cut finger, let alone a woman in labour. On occasions we can’t get an expectant mother across the road to the Lying-In Hospital, and sometimes they simply refuse to be moved. I don’t know how she will cope when her time comes.’ Polly flapped her hands at them. ‘You girls need to hurry home. It’s very late, but at least you have a capable-looking man to see that you get there safely.’

‘I love you, Aunt Polly,’ Rose said, blowing her a kiss as she opened the door. ‘Come on, Cora, don’t waste time primping in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for anyone to notice you.’

Bennett was waiting for them in the entrance hall. ‘What is this place?’ he asked, frowning. ‘I’ve heard screams coming from a room upstairs, and a baby crying.’

‘This is a home for fallen women,’ Cora said shyly. ‘Aunt Polly helps unfortunates who have nowhere else to turn in their time of greatest need.’

‘Papa thinks that we come here to help look after the poor souls.’ Rose grimaced at the sound of a fierce argument upstairs. ‘We wouldn’t be able to perform at Fancello’s were it not for Aunt Polly.’

‘Yes,’ Cora added. ‘We change our clothes here, and then we go on to Fancello’s. We do this in reverse on our way home.’

‘I’m not sure I understand why you feel the need to complicate matters in this way.’ Bennett looked from one to the other, frown lines furrowing his brow.

‘Because the lingering smell of tobacco smoke and the fumes of alcohol would be noticed at home,’ Cora said earnestly. ‘We would have difficulty in explaining that away.’

‘I admire the way you’ve thought things through, but I have to agree with your aunt. You’re exposing yourselves to enormous risks.’

‘Our brother’s life is at stake,’ Rose said coldly. ‘Would you have us sit at home and do nothing?’

‘That’s a question you should be asking William, not me.’

‘I wish I could see Billy,’ Rose said passionately. ‘I would tell him that we’re doing everything in our power to secure his release.’

‘Poor Billy …’ Cora’s voice broke on a sob.

Bennett opened the front door and ushered them out into the cold night air. He walked on with lengthy strides. ‘Gawain Tressidick is dead. He was a young man with a promising career ahead of him.’

Rose had to quicken her pace in order to keep up with him. She held her sister’s hand, towing her like a small, tired child. ‘He was Billy’s best friend. I’ll never believe that our brother struck the fatal blow.’

‘Nor I,’ Cora said faintly. ‘Billy abhorred violence of any sort.’

‘But I understood he was something of an expert in the noble art of pugilism.’ Bennett came to a halt, facing Rose with a steady look. ‘He was, wasn’t he?’

Rose gulped and swallowed. It was a question she had been dreading. ‘He regarded it as a science as well as a sport. Billy would have defended himself, but he would never start a fight. I’d stake my own life on it.’

‘He was a southpaw,’ Cora said proudly. ‘He told me so, although to be honest I’m not exactly sure what that means.’

‘Billy is left-handed?’ Bennett’s dark eyes glinted with the golden reflection of the gaslights as he met Rose’s questioning look with a triumphant smile. ‘Is that correct?’

‘It is,’ she said slowly. ‘But I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.’

‘This piece of information might have a huge bearing on the case.’ He smacked his hand on his forehead. ‘Why didn’t I think of that before?’

Rose and Cora exchanged baffled glances. ‘I don’t understand,’ Rose said, frowning. ‘What difference does it make?’

‘I can’t be certain, but it might be the one fact that has been overlooked. I have to return to Cornwall first thing in the morning.’

‘So soon?’ Rose stared at him in surprise. ‘But you said you needed to know more about Billy.’

Bennett started to walk, hands clasped behind his back. ‘This could be just what I was searching for. I couldn’t understand how a young man who was destined for the clergy could suddenly turn into a vicious killer, which is why I accepted the brief in the first place.’

Rose forgot that her feet hurt and her throat was sore from singing in a smoky atmosphere. A glimmer of hope had been ignited in her breast and she wanted to know more. She caught him up, leaving Cora to stumble along behind them. ‘Why is it so important, Mr Sharpe? Don’t keep me in suspense.’

‘I don’t want to raise your hopes too high. You will have to trust me in this. I’ll leave a message for Scully and he’ll keep you informed as to my progress, or the lack of it.’

‘Stop here,’ Rose said breathlessly. ‘This is where we live.’

Bennett came to a halt, staring at the vicarage as if committing every brick and tile to memory. ‘Then I’ll say goodbye for now. Will you explain my absence to your aunt, and ask her to accept my apologies?’

‘I will, but I know she’ll be overjoyed to think that there is hope.’ Rose held out her hand. ‘Thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

Bennett raised it to his lips. ‘I promise you I will do my utmost for Billy.’

‘Are you leaving us, Mr Sharpe?’ Cora caught up with them, holding her side and panting. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I’m afraid not, Miss Cora. Rose will explain everything, but I hope to see you when I return to London.’

‘When will that be?’ Rose asked anxiously. ‘Please don’t leave us in suspense.’

‘I don’t know. Everything depends on what I discover when I return to Portmorna.’

A shiver ran down Rose’s spine. ‘Billy was staying at Portmorna House.’

Bennett slipped his hand into his breast pocket and took out a deckle-edged calling card. ‘This is the address of my chambers in Lincoln’s Inn. If you need help they will put you in touch with Scully.’

Rose took the card from his outstretched hand, and it was still warm from his touch. She tucked it into her reticule. ‘I’d like to see Billy. He’s so far from home and I can’t imagine what he must be feeling.’ She slipped her arm around Cora, who had begun to sob. ‘Don’t cry. Mr Sharpe is doing everything he can for Billy.’

‘I promise you that I’ll do my utmost to bring this sorry situation to a satisfactory end.’ Bennett backed away. ‘I have to leave you now, but next time we meet I hope it will be under happier circumstances.’

‘Thank you.’ Rose stood very still, watching Bennett until he was out of sight. A chill wind whipped her hair from beneath her bonnet and a feeling of exhaustion threatened to overcome her. They were alone again, with nothing to sustain them other than hope.

‘Let’s get you indoors, Cora. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

‘It’s too hard,’ Cora sobbed. ‘I felt better when Mr Sharpe was here, but now he’s gone it’s just the same as it was before.’

‘Not quite,’ Rose said gently. ‘We know he’s on our side, and I trust him.’ She was about to open the gate that led to the tradesmen’s entrance when the clattering of a horse’s hoofs and the rumble of wheels echoed down the quiet street. She hurried Cora into the garden and waited for the vehicle to pass, but it slowed to a halt at the kerb. She peeped out from behind a laurel bush and her breath hitched in her throat.

‘It’s Dr Grantley, Cora, and he’s calling here. Something awful must have happened. Go inside, quickly.’




Chapter Five (#u01cc978d-8111-5418-9d9b-3d6731c642a8)


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.’




Chapter Six (#ulink_e81e8a49-fb5a-5fe2-abbb-ffe07edd1f21)


‘Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.’ Fancello grabbed Rose by the arm, dragged her inside and slammed the door.

The sight that met her eyes was so shocking that she could only stand and stare.

‘What are you gawping at?’ Clementia was naked except for a small towel tied around her waist, and then she braced her shoulders exposing a flat chest covered with a soft, downy fuzz of hair.

Graziella had been cowering on the sofa, but her child’s words seemed to galvanise her into action and she sprang to her feet, throwing her shawl around Clementia’s shoulders. ‘You have killed me, my son,’ she cried. ‘You have stuck a knife into your mamma’s heart.’

‘Y-you’re a boy.’ Rose felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she hastily averted her gaze.

Fancello clenched his fists. ‘You are a wicked boy, Clementino.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Rose looked from one to the other. ‘Why have you made your son pretend to be a girl?’

‘Are you mad?’ Fancello demanded angrily. ‘The patrons would not pay to hear a choirboy sing. They want to see pretty girls on stage.’

‘But I am not a girl,’ Clementino protested. ‘I never wanted to be a girl. You have turned me into a freak.’

‘You are an ungrateful child,’ Graziella stormed, clutching her hands to her breast. ‘Haven’t we given you everything?’

Rose looked Clementino in the eye and experienced a sudden surge of sympathy. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want to perform any more?’

‘Don’t put ideas into his head.’ Fancello glowered at her. ‘He is our little star.’

‘I’m not your little star,’ Clementino’s voice deepened. ‘You hear this? I can no longer be a girl. I am a man now.’

‘You are not yet fourteen.’ Graziella held her hands out to him. ‘You are my baby still.’

‘I am growing up, Mamma.’ Clementino dropped the shawl to the ground, flexing his biceps. ‘You cannot force me to wear a dress and sing like a girl.’ He fingered his chin. ‘I have to shave twice a day. Do you want to put me in the circus as a bearded lady?’

Rose picked up the shawl and laid it on the arm of the sofa. ‘You must listen to him, signor. Can’t you see how unhappy he is?’

Fancello turned on her. ‘I didn’t send for you so that you could give me a lecture. I want you to persuade this bad son to honour his parents and do as we say. He might listen to you because he will not listen to his mamma or me.’

‘Clementino is right,’ Rose said slowly. ‘You are making a show of him and it isn’t fair. He just wants to be himself.’

Clementino pointed a shaking finger at Rose. ‘She speaks the truth. She understands me, but you don’t. I will kill myself if you make me go on that stage tonight.’ He reached for a bottle of gin and held it to his lips.

‘No!’ Graziella leaped to her feet and snatched it from him. ‘What will we do, Alessandro?’

‘I am ruined.’ Fancello subsided onto a chair. ‘Ruined by an ungrateful child. The show will close tonight. I cannot go on.’

Clementino threw back his head and laughed. ‘It is a punishment for the way you have forced me to live these past five years, wearing dresses and bows in my hair. I will do it no longer.’

‘Where will we find another act to compare with our dear child?’ Graziella moaned.

‘Where will you find someone who works for next to nothing?’ Clementino reached for a shirt and slipped it on. ‘I intend to go home to Naples where I hope to join the opera buffa, and train to be a basso buffo. You have used me long enough.’

Fancello held his head in his hands. ‘We will have to close.’

‘We cannot let our patrons down tonight,’ Graziella said, rising from the sofa. ‘Sing for us just once more, Clementino? Just once more, for your mamma.’

‘No. Never again.’ Clementino tossed his long dark locks and stalked out of the room.

‘I know the words to most of his songs.’ Rose looked from one bleak face to the other. ‘So does Cora. We could do Clementino’s act just for one night, but we would expect to be paid extra.’

‘It would be a travesty.’ Fancello threw up his hands. ‘I won’t allow it.’

‘Yes, you will, Alessandro.’ Graziella moved to a side table and unlocked a tin box. ‘Do what you can, Rose. Here is your pay, including extra for tonight. We will not be requiring you again.’

Rose accepted the money. ‘What will you do, signora?’

Graziella’s full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. ‘We will return to Italy. We have family in Naples, and I wish to be close to my son. Perhaps one day he will forgive us for what we have done to him.’

‘I hope he will, signora.’ Rose left the room. As she made her way slowly down the stairs, she noticed for the first time that the treads were worn and plaster was flaking off the walls. She must, she thought, have had stars in her eyes when she first came to Fancello’s saloon, and if she were to admit the truth she had enjoyed every minute of each performance. Papa would be horrified and Mama might never speak to her again, but she had loved the limelight and revelled in the applause. Now it had come to an end, and the distress she felt was not entirely due to the shortfall in the amount they needed to free Billy. She would miss the excitement of leading a double life, and the ever-present danger of discovery, but she could not help feeling sorry for Clementino and his parents. She went to give Cora the bad news.

Both their performances went down well, and the audience did not seem to notice the absence of the child star, but as they took their final bow and exited from the stage Rose found herself embraced by Clementino. It was the first time she had seen him in male clothing and he was every inch a handsome youth.

‘Thank you, Rose,’ he said, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You have saved my life.’

Cora stared at him in amazement. ‘Well,’ she breathed. ‘Who would have thought it?’

‘Good luck, Clementino. I hope everything turns out well for you.’ Rose watched him walk away with a feeling akin to envy. His metamorphosis was complete, and now he could fly away like a butterfly emerging from its pupa: there was no such escape for a young woman like herself. This adventure was over, and now she must return to a life of duty and diligence, at the beck and call of her father and then the man she might ultimately marry. Her brief stab at independence, albeit for a just cause, had come to an end. How they would find the money to pay for Billy’s defence was a problem yet to be solved. She turned with a start as Cora tugged at her sleeve.

‘Stop daydreaming, Rose,’ Cora said impatiently. ‘I’ve seen him. Gerard is seated at his usual table and he is on his own. I must speak to him.’

‘It’s over, Corrie. You won’t see him again after tonight.’

Cora tossed her head. ‘We’ll see about that.’ She pulled back the curtain and ran down the steps to join Gerard. His handsome features dissolved into a charming smile as he stood to greet her. Rose turned away. She had seen enough to realise that there was more to her sister’s relationship with the young aristocrat than she had at first suspected. It was another complication in an already difficult situation. She went to their dressing room and began taking off her stage make-up.

It was almost midnight when they returned to the vicarage, having first stopped to change their clothes at Polly’s establishment. It had been decided that Maisie should remain at the vicarage until morning, as it was unsafe for her to walk home alone at this hour of the night. Even as Rose opened the scullery door she sensed that all was not well, and, as she entered the kitchen she heard the sound of groaning. A single candle guttered on the table leaving the room in deep shadow, and she almost tripped over Maisie, who was lying on a mat by the range. She was curled up in a ball, clutching her belly and moaning piteously.

Rose went down on her knees beside her. ‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’

Cora lit a lamp and held it over them. ‘What’s the matter?’

Maisie raised a pale, tear-stained face and her mouth contorted with pain. ‘I dunno, miss. I got collywobbles. It don’t half hurt.’ She grimaced and clutched her hands around her belly.

Rose looked closer and saw a tell-tale dark stain on the mat where Maisie lay. She exchanged worried glances with Cora. ‘We’ll need towels and hot water.’ She smoothed Maisie’s hair back from her damp forehead. ‘It will be over soon. Don’t be scared, we helped once when a woman miscarried at Aunt Polly’s, so we know what to do. It’s probably for the best.’

A thin sliver of daylight filtered through the kitchen window as Rose and Cora sat down to drink a well-earned cup of tea. Maisie had survived her ordeal, and was sleeping peacefully in Billy’s old room.

Cora added two lumps of sugar to her cup. ‘I suppose if the worst comes to the worst we could seek employment as midwives.’

Rose sipped her tea. ‘As Papa would say, losing the baby this early is a blessing in disguise, but I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor girl.’

‘She’s little more than a child herself.’ Cora stifled a yawn. ‘I’m so tired, Rose. I must get some sleep.’

‘Go to bed. I’ll finish clearing up.’

Cora stood up, gazing anxiously at her sister. ‘You must be exhausted, too.’

Rose shrugged and smiled. ‘Oddly enough I’m not at all tired. It will probably catch up with me later, but when I’ve finished in here I’m going to Papa’s study to get pen and paper, and I’m going to write to Mrs Harman.’

‘But you don’t know where she lives, other than that it’s a place called Lyme Regis.’

‘I spoke to Mrs Blunt before she went off duty yesterday afternoon, and she remembered posting letters to Isabel Harman at Beehive Cottage. She might still be living there so it’s worth a try.’

‘I suppose so, but I’m too worn out to think. Wake me up in time for breakfast, Rose. We don’t want Papa to suspect anything.’

‘I agree. I’m hoping that Papa will agree to take Maisie on as scullery maid. He knows her situation, and I’m certain he would consider it unchristian to turn her away in her hour of need. I’ll be sure to point that out to him should he refuse.’ Rose finished her tea and stood up. ‘Go to bed, Corrie. Leave everything to me.’

Having banked up the fire in the range and tidied away all signs of the night’s events, Rose went to her father’s study and sat down at his desk to compose a letter to her mother’s old friend. She was reading it through when her father walked into the room. He came to a halt, staring at her in surprise.

‘Rose? It’s six o’clock in the morning. Why are you up so early, and to whom are you writing?’

She smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Papa. I should have asked you first, but I’m composing a letter to Mrs Harman.’

Seymour pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Why are you writing to your godmother?’

‘Dr Grantley said that Mama needed rest and fresh air, and Mrs Harman lives by the sea in Lyme Regis.’

‘I think I follow your line of thought, Rose, but this is a matter for your mother and myself to decide, not you.’

‘I realise that, of course, but there’s no harm in finding out if my godmother still resides in Beehive Cottage.’

Seymour regarded her steadily. ‘Your mother had a restless night, and I’ve barely slept at all.’ He stood up again, and began to pace the room. ‘Perhaps you’re right, Rose. Maybe I haven’t been willing to face the fact that Eleanor’s condition is worsening.’

‘You look exhausted,’ Rose said softly. ‘You could go with her.’

‘And leave my flock? No, I couldn’t do that.’ He came to a halt by the desk. ‘Finish your letter and post it. If Isabel invites your mother to stay I’ll make sure that she accepts, and you will travel with her.’

‘But surely you ought to accompany her, Pa.’

‘I can’t leave Joshua to cope alone. He has almost completed his training, but this is not an easy parish to run. No, I will remain here, and, all things being equal, you will take your mother to Dorset. Cora can stay with me, and keep house while you are away.’

Rose could see that he had made his mind up and she knew that to argue would be futile. She seized the opportunity to mention Maisie. ‘That sounds an excellent plan, Pa. But Cora and Mrs Blunt would need extra help. It just so happens that Aunt Polly has no further need of Maisie’s services. Perhaps she could stay on as maid of all work … for a while, anyway.’

‘I suppose so. I know you will give me no peace unless I agree.’

‘We rely so much on Mrs Blunt. I’m sure she will be glad of an extra pair of hands.’ Rose signed the letter with a flourish and blotted the ink dry. ‘I’ll post this after breakfast, if you’ll be kind enough to give me a penny for the stamp.’

He smiled and nodded. ‘You are so like your dear mama was when I first met her. If she had made up her mind to a certain course of action, she would allow nothing to stand in her way. I believe I might have remained a dry old bachelor had she not seen something in me to love.’

‘I’m sure you sent many hearts aflutter, Pa,’ Rose said smiling.

‘I would not claim such a thing even if it were true. I’m afraid I was a dull dog, but Eleanor didn’t seem to think so. I’ve been much blessed with a wonderful wife and three healthy and handsome children. I’m proud of you all, and with William about to follow me into the ministry I couldn’t ask for more.’

Rose had to bite her lip to prevent herself from crying. The thought of her parents learning the truth about their beloved son was too much to bear. She made an excuse to leave the room, and instead of going to the kitchen to see if Mrs Blunt needed any assistance in the preparation of breakfast, she crossed the hall to the drawing room and let herself out into the garden through the French doors.

It was cold and there was a faint hint of frost icing the lawn, but the birds were singing their spring song and daffodils bowed gracefully in the gentle breeze. The air still smelled of soot, smoke and the effluent pumped out of the factories that lined the Regent Canal, but it was quiet and peaceful in the garden and she needed time on her own to think. The money they had saved so far would pay a little more than half the legal fees, but now there was no prospect of earning more at the saloon. Billy’s life and liberty hung in the balance, and there was no one to whom she could turn for help.

She folded her arms in an attempt to keep warm as she walked through the shrubbery, carefully avoid-ing small clumps of violets and golden celandines. This town garden had been her retreat and solace since she was a child. The old swing hung limp and neglected from an overhanging branch of a sturdy oak tree, and the climbing rose planted on the day of her christening had rampaged up the trellis and had reached the eaves above her bedroom window. In summer it would produce small creamy clusters of sweet-smelling flowers, filling her room with heady perfume. She looked up and saw that Cora’s curtains were still drawn. A fat pigeon was resting on the windowsill and its beady eyes stared down at her. If only she could fly like a bird, she would soar high up in the sky and head for the West Country. Perhaps a personal plea to Bennett Sharpe would persuade him to continue with Billy’s case regardless of their finances. She felt sure she could convince him that to win such a difficult case would greatly benefit his career, but she needed to speak to him in person, and that in itself was a problem as she did not know where to contact him. Then it came to her in a flash. ‘Scully!’ she said out loud, causing the pigeon to fly to the relative safety of the oak tree. A glimmer of hope lifted her spirits. Sharpe had said that Scully would know how to contact him in Cornwall, and there was nothing she would not do in order to save Billy from the hangman’s noose. She would visit Sharpe’s chambers in Lincoln’s Inn and leave a message for Scully to contact her as a matter of urgency. She hurried indoors and went to wake Cora. Everything must appear to be normal, she thought as she negotiated the stairs. No one must suspect that anything untoward had happened.





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