by Dilly Court
Mrs Hopper gave a throaty gurgle of a laugh. 'Oh, Lord. These ain't mine, ducks. I might have fitted into one of these here gowns more than twenty years ago when I was following the drum, but not now.'
'I don't understand.'
'I was a soldier's wife, dearie. It's a long story, but my old man was an army sergeant during the Crimean War. He was wounded in the fall of Sebastopol and too sick to be brought home, so I nursed him until he was well enough to travel. We got here eventually, intending to get a passage home to England, but he was took with a fever and died. Mr Rivers senior found me begging in the streets, trying to raise the money to give me old man a decent burial, and he took me under his wing. Paid for everything and set me up in this house.'
Rosina stared at her in a mixture of fascination and horror. 'You mean that he – er – you were his . . .'
'That's right, love. No need to look so shocked. I had nowhere to go and no one waiting for me at home. Besides which, I likes it here and I've had a good life. He could have tired of me and thrown me out on the streets, but he's a kind man, is Mr Roland's father. I mind the house and I keep me mouth shut.' She selected two gowns and held them up for Rosina to see. 'Either of these would suit you a treat. Which is it to be? The grey tussore or the violet-blue silk?'
'If they are not yours, then whose are they? And I'm not that sort of girl, Mrs Hopper. Mr Rivers knows that I'm not. I came here to beg a favour for a friend.'
'And you're ready and willing to pay the price, if I'm not mistaken? Oh, don't look like that, dearie. I'm a woman of the world, and nothing shocks old Mavis Hopper. Take my advice and wear the blue – it will make your eyes look bluer than Devon violets.'
Rosina gazed longingly at the blue silk gown with its shockingly low décolletage and tiny puff sleeves trimmed with Brussels lace. The skirt was cunningly draped across the front, and caught up with a huge bow at the back so that the narrow hem spilled out in a full train. She had seen ladies wearing such elegant garments at Cremorne Gardens and the Crystal Palace, but had never in her wildest dreams imagined that she would have the opportunity to wear such apparel.
'Slip it on, and I'll put your hair up for you. When you're ready I'll show you down to the drawing room where Mr Roland will be waiting. Then you two can enjoy a nice cosy chat over an early supper.'
*
Roland stood up as Mrs Hopper ushered Rosina into the drawing room, which was elegantly furnished in the style of the English Regency period. Rosina had thought that the Gostellows' gloomy mansion was grand, but now she was seeing how the really wealthy lived, and she could not but be impressed. Roland came towards her, and if she had doubted that the gown suited her, the expression on his face would have put all such thoughts to flight. He took her hands in his with a look of genuine admiration in his eyes. 'Miss May, you look absolutely beautiful.' He kissed first one hand and then the other. 'Quite stunning, in fact.'
'Thank you, Mr Rivers.' She felt herself blushing furiously, and she was even more conscious of the amount of bosom revealed by the décolletage. She could imagine what Bertha would say if she could see her now, and it was not flattering. But Roland did not seem to see anything amiss. 'That gown could have been made for you, my dear.'
'And who is the proud owner, sir?' She had to ask, although she had already decided that it must belong to one of his mistresses. Perhaps he had several of them tucked away in Rotterdam. Maybe that was the real reason for his visit?
'Do take a seat, Miss May,' he replied, smiling. 'But that sounds so formal – may I call you Rosie?'
She nodded her assent as she subsided onto the couch in a billowing cloud of violet-blue silk.
'And you must call me Roland. It seems we are thrown together like old friends, so there is no point in standing on ceremony.' He went to a side table and picked up a decanter. 'May I offer you a sherry, Rosie?'
'Yes, thank you.' She accepted it gladly; she would need all the courage she could muster if she were to get through this evening. Sipping, she eyed him over the rim of the glass. 'You didn't answer my question. Whose gown am I wearing? I hope she won't mind my borrowing it.'
He poured a large brandy for himself and took a drink before answering. His eyes twinkled with amusement. 'So, you think that the boudoir and all the expensive gowns belong to one of my mistresses. Am I right?'
She gulped a mouthful of sherry, nodding her head. He was laughing at her and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. 'Maybe.'
'They belong to my elder sister, Vanessa. But I doubt if she will ever wear any of them again, since she has married a baronet, lives in Hertfordshire and is expecting a happy event any day now.'
'Oh!' She turned her head away, unable to look him in the eye.
'But never mind that, my dear.' Roland came to sit beside her on the sofa. 'You must be in very grave trouble if you travelled all the way to Holland on the off chance of finding me.' He put his glass down on a sofa table and took her hand in his. 'What can I do for you, my dear Rosie?'
Chapter Eighteen
Haltingly at first, but slowly gaining confidence, Rosina related all the events that had occurred since Roland had left London with her father, whom he said reassuringly, had arrived safely in Burnham-on-Crouch and had been in good spirits when they parted.
'So, you travelled to Rotterdam on a sailing barge, and all for the sake of young Walter?' Roland said with a thoughtful frown. 'I'm touched by your courage and your devotion. You must love him very much.'
'What I feel for him doesn't matter. There has been a grave miscarriage of justice and you are the only one who can set it right.'
'But my dear, if I return to London I will find myself on the wrong end of a law suit or else obliged to marry a young lady for whom I have no tender feelings. Much as I would love to oblige you, I'm afraid that I cannot.'
'I tried to tell Sukey that it was all a mistake, but she wouldn't believe me. It has to come from your lips. I'm sure she would understand.'
'With his daughter's reputation in jeopardy, I'm afraid that her father would not be so forgiving. You are forgetting that I was partly responsible for keeping his daughter out all night.'
'Sukey is a lovely girl, and we were the best of friends until this wretched business. I'm sure you could do a lot worse.'
Roland threw back his head and laughed. 'I'm certain that I could, but that is not the point, Rosie. I barely know the young lady, and I am not inclined to marry someone just to save them from a moment of embarrassment.'
She was desperate now, and she grasped his hands in hers. 'If you won't come back to England with me, will you at least write a letter to Harry? Tell him that it was you who picked up the ring and not Walter: I'm sure he would relent if you were to explain the circumstances of your engagement to Sukey.'
'My dear, I barely understand how it happened myself, and Harry would simply think that I was attempting to escape a breach of promise suit.'
'Please, Roland. I'm begging you to think again. I – I'll do anything that you want of me, if you will save Walter from imprisonment.'
He regarded her with a quizzical smile. 'Anything?'
Before she could answer, the door opened and Mrs Hopper announced that supper had been laid out for them in the dining room.
Roland raised himself from the sofa and offered Rosina his arm. 'I'm sure you must be famished. We'll discuss this matter again later.'
Despite her emotional turmoil, she managed to enjoy the well-cooked and plentiful food that Mrs Hopper had set on the table in the wainscoted dining room. Rosina had eaten almost nothing since the bout of seasickness that had laid her low for most of the voyage to Holland. She ate sparingly, but by the time they reached the dessert of fresh fruit and cheese she was feeling stronger and more optimistic. Roland had been a perfect host and had entertained her throughout the meal with amusing anecdotes. There had been no hint of seduction in his manner, but when they had finished eating she began to feel uneasy. She had convinced herself that she would do
anything to secure Walter's release from prison, but now she was facing reality and she was extremely apprehensive. She was in a foreign country, in the house of a man who had once tried to seduce her. She had accepted his hospitality and there was no one to protect her from her own reckless folly. Rosina found herself wishing that she was back on the River Pearl with kindly Captain Morgan and Barney.
Roland held out her chair and she rose slowly to her feet. She could feel his breath warm against the nape of her neck. She turned to face him. 'Thank you for taking me in. I'm truly grateful.'
His eyes strayed from her face to the décolletage of her gown, but only for a few seconds, and then he met her worried gaze with a hint of a smile. 'It was my pleasure.'
'I really should be getting back to the ship. I must return to England on the River Pearl with or without you.'
'She will not leave until the morning, my dear. I've sent word to the captain to tell him that you are a guest in my home for the night. I'll make certain that you are at the docks in good time before the ship sails.'
She lowered her gaze, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. 'And will you be coming with me, Roland?'
Very gently, he lifted her chin with the tip of his forefinger and kissed her on the lips. 'We'll see.'
He had spoken in the manner that he might have used to placate a fractious child, and she knew that she had to act now, or he would never agree to help Walter. She raised her eyes to his face. 'Roland, I'm begging you to reconsider. Harry has accused him falsely because I hurt his pride by breaking off our engagement. Will you really stand by and see an innocent man sentenced for a crime that he did not commit?'
He traced the outline of her cheek with his finger, following the curve of her throat and caressing her bare shoulder. She braced herself for what was to come, closing her eyes and praying that Walter would understand and forgive her.
'Goodnight, my dear. Sweet dreams.'
She opened her eyes, staring at him in surprise. 'But I – I thought . . .'
'Normally there is nothing that would tear me away from such delightful company, but I am afraid a prior engagement calls. Anyway, you must be exhausted after all your trials.' He moved swiftly to the door and opened it. 'Mrs Hopper will look after you, and I will see you first thing in the morning.'
As the door closed behind him Rosina's knees gave way beneath her and she sank down on the nearest chair. Had she really offered herself to a man who was little more than a stranger? She had come to persuade Roland to return to England with her, and however charmingly he couched the words, he had refused to help. She looked up as the door opened, half afraid that he had changed his mind and decided to take advantage of her, but it was Mrs Hopper who entered the room. 'Well now, dearie,' she said, chuckling. 'This is a turn-up for the books. He don't usually play the gent on the first night.'
'It wasn't like that,' Rosina said, rising to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster. 'Mr Rivers is just an acquaintance, and my business with him was on behalf of a friend.'
'Don't get all hoity-toity with me, miss. You was brought up decent, I could tell that when I first set eyes on you. You must have been desperate to come chasing after Mr Roland.'
'It really isn't any of your business, Mrs Hopper.'
'La-di-dah, I'm sure. Look, love. I'm a woman of the world and I know when a girl wants something so bad that she'll risk everything to get it.'
'It's not what you think.'
'Ain't it? Well, whatever you want from Mr Roland he's no different to his dad. Play your cards right, girl, and he'll give you whatever you want.'
Ignoring the insulting inference that she was an adventuress, Rosina eyed her curiously. 'And was this what you wanted, Mrs Hopper? Were you happy to be the kept woman and never the wife?'
'You're young, ducks. And judging by your innocent face, you don't know nothing about the harsh realities of the world. Being a common law wife and following the drum weren't exactly the life of a lady. I count meself lucky to have a fine house to live in, good food and a kind master.' She emitted a deep belly laugh. 'And don't look so shocked, missy. I ain't too old for a tumble if the mood takes him, though it ain't so often these days.'
'I – I'm very tired. I'd like to go to bed now.'
'You know where the room is. Top of the third flight of stairs. Don't expect me to keep running up and down after you.'
'Don't worry, I won't trouble you again.' Rosina picked up a candlestick. 'I can find my own way perfectly well.'
Mrs Hopper followed her to the foot of the grand staircase. 'I'd lock your door if I was you, ducks. He might forget he's a gent when he comes home a bit squiffy.'
Ignoring the last remark, Rosina made her way up to the bedroom that had belonged to Roland's sister. Despite Mrs Hopper's apparent unwillingness to wait on her, she found that fresh towels had been placed on the washstand, and the water in the jug was still warm. A fine cambric nightgown was draped on the counterpane and the bed sheets had been turned down. She undressed, washed and slipped the nightgown over her head. She climbed into the bed, revelling in the feel of fine percale bed linen and a feather mattress that was soft as a cloud. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.
She was awakened by the sound of tapping on her window. For a moment when she first opened her eyes she could not remember where she was, but the memories of the previous evening came flooding back and she sat bolt upright. The tapping sound continued and she leapt out of bed with her heart racing. She ran to the window to draw back the curtains and two startled pigeons fluttered skyward, cooing their disapproval on being so rudely disturbed. Their action drew a chuckle from Rosina, but she stopped abruptly as she heard the distant chiming of a clock from a church tower. She counted the chimes – one, two, three, four – when it reached seven she uttered a cry of dismay. The River Pearl was due to sail at half past seven. She was not sure how far it was to the docks, but now her only thought was to get to the boat and return home. She threw off the nightgown and struggled into her undergarments, tugging at the laces on her stays with trembling fingers. Mrs Hopper had taken her clothes and she rifled through the armoire looking for something more suitable to wear than the elegant evening gown. It seemed that Roland's sister had lived the life of a very grand young lady and the garments were much too fine to wear on board a sailing barge. But this was not the time to be too particular and she selected a morning gown of grey shantung which boasted the least amount of frills, pin-tucks or embroidery. She was still struggling with the tiny, fabric-covered buttons as she ran down the stairs to the entrance hall.
'Mrs Hopper,' Rosina called out as she saw the housekeeper about to enter the dining room. 'I have to get to the docks immediately. Will you please send someone to find me a cab?'
Advancing so slowly that Rosina wanted to scream, Mrs Hopper shook her head. 'You won't find one round here at this time of day.'
'Then would Mr Rivers allow me to use his private carriage? He promised me that he would see me to the docks so that I can go home to London.'
'That's men for you, dearie. Even the best of them ain't reliable. God knows what time he come in last night. I expect he's still sleeping off the booze and we won't see hide nor hair of him until midday at least.'
Rosina was close to tears, but she was too angry to allow herself to cry. She stamped her foot. 'I will walk then. I won't stay here a minute longer.'
Mrs Hopper marched past her to open the front door. 'Go on, then. You ain't a prisoner here so far as I know.' She pointed towards the far end of the street. 'Go that way and you'll come to the river. Just follow it until you get to the docks, but you'd best make haste if you want to catch the tide.'
With a feeling of panic rising in her throat, Rosina hitched up the long skirts of the gown and ran down the steps to the pavement below. The sun beat down on her head as she raced along the street, ignoring the curious stares of passers-by. She was vaguely aware of their unfamiliar costumes and the wooden clogs that t
hey wore on their feet, but she was too intent on her purpose to take much interest in the sights and sounds of Rotterdam. Although it was still early in the morning, the sky was a peerless blue and the heat was already intense. As she neared the docks she could see a forest of masts, some with sails set, sliding majestically out of the harbour. She stopped for a moment, holding her side as a painful stitch almost crippled her. Then she spotted the unmistakeable reddish-brown sails of a Thames sailing barge. She broke into a jogging trot, but she knew that she was too late. She reached the edge of the dock in time to see the stern of the River Pearl as it set out to sea.