by Dilly Court
Harry did not appear to have noticed his father's raffish behaviour and he smiled as he motioned Edward to step forward. 'Of course you know my future pa-in-law, Father. Captain May.'
'Good evening, Ed, old boy. Bad do about your boat, but if you're in need of work I might be able to find you something suitable to a man of your talents.' Harold slapped him on the shoulder, causing Edward to cough. 'No need to thank me, old chap.' Harold signalled to the butler, who was drooping quietly in the shadows. 'Potter! Fetch the brandy decanter and three glasses.'
'Come here, my dear.' Margaret's voice quavered as she beckoned to Rosina. 'Come over here where I can see you more clearly.'
Rosina went to stand by the chaise longue. 'Yes, ma'am.'
'Sit down, child. You're making my neck ache.'
Rosina perched on the edge of a chair opposite her prospective mother-in-law.
'So, my boy has asked you to marry him?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'I can't say that I was surprised, or that I was best pleased. I had hoped that Harry would pick a girl of good family, similar to my own. My father was a magnate, you know.'
Harold, apparently overhearing this remark, gave a loud snort. 'He was a bloody dustman, just the same as I was when I started out. Made a fortune out of other people's rubbish, did old Ezra Huggins.'
'Don't pay any attention to him.' Margaret fluttered her fan, casting a furious look at her husband. 'My papa was a public servant, overseeing the refuse disposal of the city. He was a hygienist.'
Doing her best to ignore Mr Gostellow's loud guffaws, Rosina made an effort to sound impressed. 'I didn't know that, Mrs Gostellow.'
'Well, he was. And he left this house to me, together with the money that set my husband up in business. I was quite a catch, I can tell you. And I was considered to be a beauty until ill health forced me to retire from polite society.'
'I'm sorry to hear it, ma'am.'
'But you will be a comfort to me, I hope, Rosina. You will keep me company during the long winter days when I am too fragile to venture out of doors, or to receive guests. I'm sure we will do very well together, once you have learned to be a lady.'
Rosina was saved from replying by Harry who strolled over to them clutching a glass of brandy in his hand. 'How are you two getting along? Splendidly, I hope. I told you that you would love her, Mama, just as I do.'
'She's very pretty, Harry. I'm sure she will learn to be a good wife, given time, and the benefit of my knowledge and experience.'
Harry leaned over and kissed his mother on the forehead. 'She could not fail to benefit from your patronage, dearest Mama.'
'My darling boy.' Margaret aimed a triumphant glance at Rosina. 'See how he idolises his mama, Rosina. I hope that when you have sons they appreciate you as Harry does me.'
Rosina felt herself blushing. She had not given motherhood a thought. In fact, she had only the haziest idea what constituted the intimate side of matrimony, and this had been gained from whispered conversations with Sukey, who had quizzed her newly married cousin, Jane, about what actually happened in the marriage bed. They had concluded that Jane had made up most of it to shock them, and that she was not a reliable witness, since she had insisted that she kept her eyes tight shut and had thought about chocolate cake and ice cream during the whole beastly business. Although, Sukey had said, on reflection – Jane had been married for nearly a year with no sign of a happy event, so she might have been telling the truth. It was a well-known fact, according to Miss Carmody, who had taught French at the dame school attended by Sukey and her sisters, that if one did not enjoy marital relations, then a baby would not be the result. Unfortunately Miss Carmody had been sent away in disgrace shortly after this conversation, and so the girls had not been able to question her further.
'See how she blushes, mama. Isn't she a dear?' Harry sipped his brandy, smiling his approval.
Margaret's lips curved, but her eyes were cold as agate as she stared at Rosina. 'So where is this ring then? I thought you were taking her to buy one this afternoon, Harry.'
He gulped down the remainder of his drink. 'I, er – we didn't get round to it, Mama.'
'And diamonds are a shocking price. Your father is not a generous man, and I doubt if he would sanction such a gross extravagance.' Margaret tugged at the ring on her engagement finger, working it round until it came off in her hand. 'This is the engagement ring that he bought me, all those years ago. Hold out your hand, Harry.'
With child-like obedience, Harry held out his hand and his mother placed her ring on his palm, closing his fingers round it with a sigh. 'There, give her that, my dear boy. And I hope it brings Rosina as much happiness from her marriage as mine has to me.'
Harry opened his hand and stared doubtfully at the small stone. 'But you have not been happy, Mama. You are always telling me so.'
She smacked him with her furled fan. 'Silly boy. You know I like to tease you. Give it to her now.'
Rosina clenched her hand into a fist. She did not want his mother's ring. The thought of wearing it made her feel physically sick. She shook her head. 'Really, ma'am. It's too much to ask you to part with something so precious.'
'Rosie's right, Mama. You must not part with your engagement ring.' Harry tried to give it back, but Margaret thrust his hand away.
'You will displease me greatly if you don't put my ring on her finger. I can feel an attack of palpitations coming on. You know that I must not be upset.'
Harry gave Rosina a pleading look. 'My darling? It means so much to Mama.'
Reluctantly, Rosina held out her left hand, suppressing a shudder as Harry slipped the ring on her finger. If he had clamped an iron manacle on her she could not have felt more disturbed and ill at ease.
'What's this then?' Harold peered over his son's shoulder. 'Doing the right thing by the little lady, eh? Congratulations, old fellow.' He slapped Harry on the back. 'Now, as her future father-in-law, allow me to be the first to kiss the bride-to-be.'
Before Rosina had a chance to move out of reach, Harold seized her round the waist and drew her to him, planting a wet, slobbery kiss on her lips, and taking rather more pleasure in it than was appropriate.
'Put her down, you lecherous beast,' Margaret said, raising her voice to a point where the crystals on the chandelier tinkled in unison. 'The girl may be common but she is not a maidservant with whom you can take liberties.'
'Come now, ma'am,' Edward said, tugging nervously at his whiskers. 'I'm sure that it was just a mark of fatherly appreciation. My girl is precious to me and I would take it badly if a man was to show her any disrespect.'
Harold thumped him on the back with a cheerful grin. 'And none was meant, old chap. Can't a man show appreciation for his son's choice of bride in his own front parlour, Maggie?'
'Drawing room, Harold.' Margaret's winged brows knotted together in a frown. 'You are showing me up, as you always do. Common born and common to the grave, that is you, Harold Gostellow.'
'I was good enough to make an honest woman of you, madam. I didn't see suitors queuing up outside your father's door, even though you was the dustman's only daughter and had expectations.'
She rose from the chaise longue with a rustle of silk petticoats. 'The whole city knows that I married beneath me. My father was a great man and you drove one of his scavenger carts.' She almost spat the words at him. 'You were the common dustman, taking the city rubbish to his dust mound.' There was a horrified silence.
Rosina moved closer to her father, clutching his arm. She longed to take the ring from her finger and throw it back at Harry's mother, but she could see that he was upset by this extremely public show of animosity between his parents. She glanced anxiously at Harold to see how he had taken the insult, but he threw back his head and roared with laughter. 'She's a one, is my missis. A veritable hell-cat when she's got the wilds.' He hooked his arm around his wife's waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. 'There's one for you, old girl. Just so's you don't feel left out.'
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br /> 'Beast!' Margaret took a swipe at him with her fan, but he ducked and she missed. 'Uncouth brute!' He chucked her under the chin and nipped smartly out of the way before she could retaliate. 'Uncouth I may be and I admit I'm a self-made man, but there's no shame in that, is there, Ed, old chap?'
Edward swallowed hard and his beard moved up and down, seemingly of its own accord. 'It's true that hard work pays, Harold.'
'Father, I . . .' Harry began, but the timely arrival of Potter, announcing that dinner was served, put a stop to the cut and thrust.
Margaret pushed her husband out of the way and she took Edward's arm. 'We will lead the way into the dining room, Edward.' She glanced over her shoulder. 'Harry, escort your fiancée. I don't trust your father to lead her anywhere, unless it was into the broom cupboard. And don't deny it, Harold. I know all about your little antics with the maidservants.'
'Well, if you wasn't always pleading your delicate constitution when it comes to your conjugal duties, then maybe I wouldn't have to seek my rights as a husband elsewhere.' Harold strode on ahead, his footsteps echoing angrily on the marble-tiled floor of the entrance hall.
Rosina tugged at Harry's arm. 'It might be best if Papa and I went home now. Considering the circumstances.'
Harry stopped, halfway across the hall. 'Mother! Father! Rosina is embarrassed by your behaviour, so much so that she wants to go home.'
Margaret stopped and pointed a shaking finger at her husband as he disappeared into the dining room. 'It's all his fault. I can't be held to blame for his lack of breeding.' She fixed Rosina with a gimlet eye. 'You must not be upset by our trivial disagreements, my dear. I am, as you see, outnumbered by men and I need a female ally in my house. You will dine with us and there will be no further outbursts, I can assure you of that. Do you hear me in the dining room, Harold? Or are you in there taking liberties with Watson?'
Watson came running from the dining room, adjusting her white mobcap. 'I'm going for the soup, ma'am.'
'Harold, you licentious libertine.' Margaret marched into the dining room, leaving Edward standing open-mouthed, staring after her. Her scream of rage was followed by the sound of breaking china.
Rosina looked up into Harry's troubled face. 'Is it always like this?'
'Oh, no,' he replied, without the flicker of a smile. 'Sometimes it's much worse.'
'I think that we ought to leave,' Edward said, shuddering at the sound of another piece of crockery shattering against a wall.
'No, please.' Harry slipped his arm around Rosina's shoulders. 'Just wait a minute and they'll calm down. It will be as though nothing has happened, I promise you.'
Watson came hurrying towards them carrying a tureen. 'Soup,' she said tersely as she headed into the dining room, adding over her shoulder, 'if there's any plates left to serve it.'
'Come,' Harry said, squeezing Rosina's hand. 'It will be all right, believe me.'
She allowed him to lead her into the dining room, where their feet crunched on broken shards of china, and the host and hostess were already seated at opposite ends of the rectangular dining table. Potter was calmly setting out fresh soup plates and Harold rose to his feet, smiling. 'Pray be seated.' He raised his glass. 'Margaret, my love, let us toast the happy couple.'
She bared her teeth in a smile and raised her glass. 'To my darling boy and . . . I'm sorry, my dear – your name has slipped my mind.'
Harry pulled out a chair for Rosina. 'You know very well, Mama. Don't tease her.'
Margaret pulled a face. 'To whatever-her-name-is, as well. Oh, do serve the soup, Potter. I'm famished.'
Harold tucked a starched white table napkin into the top of his waistcoat and picked up his soup spoon, waving it at Edward. 'Well, I call this very sociable. We won't talk business in front of the ladies, but I'll be blunt, old boy. With your boat out of action I daresay your pockets are to let, so to speak.'
Edward choked on his soup. 'I – well, to be frank, things are a bit tight at the moment.'
'Say no more. Come to the office in the morning and I may be able to help you out, just until that boat of yours is shipshape and Bristol fashion again.'
'Do shut up, Harold.' Margaret glared at him and pushed her plate away. She turned to Rosina with a martyred expression. 'My digestive system is so delicate that the slightest upset robs me of my appetite. I daresay that I will fade away one day, and I doubt if anyone will even notice.'
'Don't worry, old girl. I'm sure they'll take you away on one of your pa's old dustcarts.' Harold winked at Rosina and continued to dip large chunks of bread in his soup, spilling most of it down his front.
'Sticks and stones, Harold,' Margaret said, sipping her wine. 'You shall not provoke me. Remember that we have guests, and that this evening is to celebrate the betrothal of our son to . . .'
'Rosina, Mother.'
'Yes, to be sure. Potter, more wine if you please.'
The Gostellows did seem to have called a truce to hostilities during the long drawn-out meal, but Rosina could not relax and she barely tasted the excellent food. Her nerves were stretched as tight as violin strings, and she was heartily relieved when the time came to leave. Harry insisted on accompanying them home, and, having waited for Edward to enter the house on Black Eagle Wharf, he took Rosina in his arms and kissed her. His breath smelt of wine and cigar smoke, and his hands strayed to cup her breasts.
'I must go in, Harry. Papa will think it unseemly if I linger outside with you.'
'We are engaged, my darling.' Harry kissed her again, probing her mouth with his tongue and sliding his fingers down the front of her bodice.
She laid her hands flat against his chest in an effort to push him away. 'Goodnight, Harry.'
'Don't go in yet.' His voice was thick with desire and he tightened his arms around her waist. 'Just one more kiss, Rosie.'
She closed her eyes and allowed his embrace but she did not return his kiss. 'No, Harry.' She pushed harder as his fingers found the locket. 'That's enough, really.'
'Not nearly enough for me, as you will discover when we are married.' He chuckled deep in his throat, but he held the locket in the palm of his hand and he stared at it, a frown replacing his smile. 'Dare I ask whose likeness is enshrined in this gold case?'
'My mother and father, of course. Who else?'
'It could be another lover.'
She was quick to hear the note of jealousy in his voice, and Rosina snatched the locket from his grasp with a nervous giggle. 'Don't be absurd, Harry. You know that there is no one other than you.'
'Do I, my love? I rather thought you took a shine to that pirate fellow we met at Cremorne Gardens. He hasn't bothered you since, has he? Because I would take a pretty dim view of it if he had.'
'Don't be silly. Of course he hasn't. He was a perfect stranger.'
'And what about the scribbling Pharisee, Walter? You went rushing after him this afternoon instead of accompanying me to Hatton Garden to choose the ring. I forgave you, but I think it's pretty odd behaviour.'
'Harry, this is ridiculous. Why are you questioning me like this?' Rosina backed into the doorway. 'It's late and I'm tired.'
He laid his finger on her lips. 'Hush, my love. I didn't mean to upset you. Just remember one thing, Rosie. I love you and I am a very jealous man. I forbid you to have anything to do with Walter.'