The Christmas Card

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The Christmas Card Page 7

by Dilly Court


  ‘You’ve worked wonders. Flora is a different child.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘She’s always been like this but she wasn’t allowed to express herself. That’s why she was so badly behaved.’

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly brought out the best in her—’ he broke off as a snowball hit him in the chest. ‘Why, you little devil.’ Laughing he bent down and made another, lobbing it at Flora, who dodged and counterattacked with yet another good shot.

  Alice stood back, smiling at their antics until a snowball caught her a glancing blow on the cheek. Forgetting that she was supposed to be above such things, she joined in until they were all breathless with laughter. Flora’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling as she danced over to Alice. ‘Let’s make a snowman.’

  Rory brushed flakes of ice off his overcoat. ‘You won that contest, I think, Flora.’

  She grinned. ‘Yes, I did. I won, Alice.’

  Alice was about to congratulate her when she heard the rumble of carriage wheels and she looked round. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she said, pointing at the vehicle. ‘That looks like Mrs Dearborn. Your mama had returned, Flora.’

  ‘What will we do, Uncle Rory?’ Flora clutched his hand. ‘Mama will send Alice away. Please do something.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘Wait here,’ Rory said firmly. ‘I’ll keep Lydia talking. Take Flora in by the servants’ entrance, Alice, and go up the back stairs to the nursery.’ He brushed Flora’s cheek with the tip of his fingers. ‘Don’t look so scared, poppet. I’ll take care of everything.’ He nodded to Alice and set off, strolling out of the gardens and across the road to arrive just as Lydia stepped out of the carriage.

  Under cover of the tall plane trees, Alice waited until they entered the house and as soon as the front door closed she took Flora by the hand and hurried her across the street. The wrought-iron gate opened noiselessly and they descended the steps to the basement area. Alice tapped on the door and after a minute or two it was opened by Nettie. She gaped at them open-mouthed.

  ‘Lawks! What’s going on, miss?’

  ‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Alice said, propelling Flora into the narrow passageway. ‘We thought we’d come in this way so that Miss Flora could thank Cook and the kitchen maids for all their trouble.’

  ‘Well, I never did. I never heard of such a thing.’ Nettie backed away, turned and ran into the kitchen.

  Flora glanced up at Alice, a frown creasing her brow, but Alice placed her finger to her lips. ‘Just follow my lead.’

  The kitchen was hot and steamy, filled with the savoury aroma of fried onions, herbs and roasting meat. Every surface was covered with baskets of fruit and vegetables and the ingredients for the festive meal. One of the daily cleaning women was at the sink in the scullery, plucking a large goose, and feathers floated to the ground like snowflakes. Cook was at the table whisking something light and frothy, while a small girl, even younger than Nettie, was attempting to peel the skin off blanched almonds.

  Alice led her young charge across the slippery flagstones to the table. ‘Miss Flora has something she would like to say to you and the kitchen staff, Cook.’ She nudged Flora, who had been staring at the preparations, wide-eyed.

  ‘Thank you for making such nice meals,’ she said in a small voice.

  Cook stared at her, gulped and swallowed. ‘There’s no need for thanks, Miss Flora. We’re just doing what’s expected of us.’

  ‘Nevertheless, Miss Flora wanted you all to know that she appreciates what you do. Merry Christmas to you all.’

  ‘Yes,’ Flora said, nodding. ‘Merry Christmas.’ She was about to take a mince pie from the table, but Alice hurried her towards the back stairs.

  When they reached the nursery she saw to Flora first and then took off her sodden boots and hung her stockings from the mantelshelf to dry.

  ‘Well, that was a near thing,’ she said, pulling up a chair and resting her bare feet on the fender.

  Flora sat on the floor, warming her hands in front of the fire. ‘I don’t care if I get into trouble, but I don’t want Mama to send you away, Alice.’

  ‘That won’t happen, I promise you.’ Rory’s voice from the doorway made them both turn with a start.

  Alice hastily covered her bare limbs with her damp skirts and rose to her feet. ‘We were just getting warm.’ She knew she was blushing and she was embarrassed to be caught barefoot and barelegged, but if Rory had noticed he gave no sign of it.

  ‘That’s very sensible of you. I came to reassure you that my sister-in-law suspects nothing.’

  Flora gazed up at him. ‘So Alice won’t be sent away?’

  ‘I think it’s safe to say that Miss Radcliffe will stay for as long as she wants.’

  ‘If Alice leaves then I’ll go with her.’ Flora jumped to her feet. ‘Will I see you tomorrow, Uncle Rory? Are you coming to dinner?’

  He nodded, smiling. ‘I am indeed. My landlady is the worst cook in London, and probably the worst cook in England, so I have to come here if I want a good meal.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Flora said earnestly. ‘I mean, I’m not glad that she’s a bad cook, I’m just happy that you’ll be here on Christmas Day. I only wish that I could see my real mother and give her a present.’

  Forgetting everything other than the child’s needs, Alice slipped her arm around Flora’s shoulders. She met Rory’s concerned look with a question in her eyes that she could not voice in Flora’s presence.

  He nodded, seeming to understand. ‘I’m sure she was well compensated and now lives in a degree of comfort. She wanted the best for you, Flora.’

  ‘Will you take me to see her, please?’

  ‘Much as I’d love to make you happy, I’m not sure that would be the right thing to do. I can’t go against your father’s wishes.’

  Flora stamped her foot. ‘He’s not my father. I want to know who my real father is, and I want to go and see my mother. If you don’t take me I’ll run away and I’ll find Blossom Street. That’s where she lives; Smithson said so.’

  Alice laid her hand on Flora’s shoulder. ‘You can’t do that, my dear. She might not be there now and you would be all alone in a part of London you know nothing about.’ She turned to Rory. ‘You shouldn’t encourage her, sir.’

  He nodded, frowning. ‘Yes, you’re right. What Miss Radcliffe says is true, Flora. But I’ll see if I can find out exactly where she is living. I can’t promise anything, but I might be able to arrange for us to visit her, if that would set your mind at rest.’

  Flora’s eyes shone with excitement and she jumped up and down. ‘Yes, I want to see her more than anything in the world. I think it must be a lovely place where she lives with trees covered in pink blossom and the sun is always shining. Sometimes I see her in my dreams. She’s beautiful, like a golden angel.’

  ‘I think you’re old enough to learn the truth about your family,’ Rory said, frowning. ‘I’ll see what I can do, Floss, but I have to go now as I have an important business appointment. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Alice followed him to the door. ‘You shouldn’t tell her things just to make her happy. This could end badly.’

  He met her searching gaze with a hint of a smile. ‘I promise to do my best for everyone concerned. I wouldn’t hurt Flora for the world.’

  Flora was tired after playing in the snow and needed little persuasion to go to bed that evening after supper. Alice helped her to wash and put on her flannel nightgown, and when Flora was comfortably settled she read her a story, but Flora was asleep before the tale ended. Alice put the guard around the fire and blew out the candles before leaving the room, and as she made her way downstairs she racked her brains in an attempt to think of a suitable present for Flora. She was still deep in thought when she reached the entrance hall where she met Rory, who was also about to leave the house.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you, Mr Dearborn.’

  ‘My meeting finished early and I had to come this way to give my brot
her some papers. Is Flora behaving herself?’

  Alice suppressed a gurgle of laughter. ‘She’s being an angel.’

  Hoskins opened the front door, staring at a point somewhere above their heads with an impassive expression.

  ‘Good night, Hoskins,’ Rory said easily. He proffered his arm to Alice. ‘It’s starting to snow again. We could share a cab.’

  The steps were coated in ice and Alice accepted his help. ‘Thank you, but I haven’t far to go.’

  ‘I believe you’re residing in Queen Square. It’s quite a long walk on a cold and wintry night.’

  ‘Alice. There you are. I’ve been waiting for a good half-hour.’

  To Alice’s dismay Horace appeared as if from nowhere. Snowflakes sparkled on his top hat and the shoulders of his caped greatcoat.

  ‘I didn’t ask you to meet me,’ she said angrily. ‘I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way home.’

  Horace uttered a whinnying snort. ‘Now, now, my dear, we’re about to become engaged, so I am in some way responsible for your safety.’

  Rory’s expression gave nothing away as he released Alice’s hand. ‘May I be the first to congratulate you, sir?’

  ‘And who may you be?’ Horace demanded.

  ‘This is ridiculous.’ Alice looked from one to the other, shaking her head. ‘We do not have an understanding, Horace. That was my aunt’s idea and had nothing to do with me.’ She could feel the cold seeping through the worn soles of her boots and she shivered. ‘I thank both of you gentlemen, but I wish to be alone.’ She marched off, leaving them standing on the pavement.

  ‘Where is Horace?’ Jane stood in the dining-room doorway, hands clasped together as if in prayer. ‘He was told to meet you and bring you home.’

  Angry words rose to her lips but Alice could see her mother standing behind Jane with an anxious look on her pale face. ‘I don’t need my hand held by him or anyone, and he seems to think that I’ve agreed to our engagement.’

  ‘You have no choice,’ Jane said coldly. ‘You obey me in this or I wash my hands of the pair of you. Horace needs a wife and you and your mother need a home.’

  ‘Have you no pity, Jane?’ Beth’s voice broke on a sob. ‘How can you be so hard-hearted?’

  Jane turned on her in a swirl of black silk. ‘My heart was broken when my dear Robert departed this world. How dare you question my judgement? You ruined my brother with your spendthrift ways, and your daughter seems to take after you. She would be a fool to turn down an offer from a man like Horace.’ She pointed a shaking finger at Clara, who was standing by the open front door. ‘Close the door, Snippet, you foolish child.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, but I think I see Mr Hubble walking through the snow.’ Clara clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. ‘Oops. He’s come a purler.’

  Jane strode across the floor to push Clara out of the way. ‘Horace Hubble, get up this instant and stop acting the fool.’ She waited until he had limped into the hall before slamming the door. ‘Just look at you, Horace. You’re plastered in snow.’

  Alice covered her mouth with her hand, trying hard not to laugh.

  Horace shot her a baleful look. ‘I suppose you think it’s funny, but I could have broken a limb.’

  ‘Well, you obviously didn’t,’ Jane said impatiently. ‘I gave you explicit instructions to wait for Alice and see her safely home, instead of which you act the fool, sliding around in the snow like a five-year-old. I despair of you sometimes, Horace.’ She turned on her heel and marched into the dining room. ‘And don’t think you can stay for dinner because you are not invited. Having two extra mouths to feed is an expense I could well do without, and you have an appetite like a horse.’

  Alice felt almost sorry for Horace, who hung his head, looking sheepish. The tip of his nose had turned from red to blue and he was shivering convulsively. He clutched his top hat to his chest. ‘That’s rather harsh, Cousin. A drop of hot toddy would save me from catching a chill and it’s a long walk to West Smithfield.’

  ‘I do not hold with strong spirits, as you well know. A glass of sherry wine on special occasions is acceptable, as is communion wine, but strong drink is the work of the devil. Now go home and leave us to have our meal in peace.’

  Horace made a move towards the door, ramming his slightly battered hat on his head. ‘I suppose you’ll pray for me when I’m dying of lung fever,’ he grumbled.

  Clara opened the door for him and he left the house still muttering.

  ‘Bring the soup, Snippet,’ Jane called from the dining room. ‘We’ll dine now.’

  Alice nodded to Clara. ‘I’ll hang my things up. Better do as my aunt says.’

  Clara skipped off, no doubt to relate the goings-on above stairs to an interested Mrs Jugg.

  Having divested herself of her outdoor garments, Alice entered the dining room to find her mother already seated at table.

  Beth looked up and smiled. ‘How was it today, dear? Was the child better behaved?’

  ‘Never mind that now.’ Jane glared at Alice from her place at the head of the table. ‘I think you owe me an explanation as to your behaviour, young lady. Why did you refuse Horace’s offer to walk you home? Are you going out of your way to be difficult?’ Alice took her seat at table. ‘No, Aunt, but I’ve considered the matter carefully and I want nothing to do with Horace. I cannot stand the man and I’d rather live under a railway arch than tie myself to a creature like him.’

  Beth gasped, staring at her sister-in-law wide-eyed. ‘She doesn’t mean it, Jane. Alice must be tired after a long day at the Dearborns’ establishment.’

  ‘That is no excuse for out-and-out rudeness. You will apologise, Alice.’

  Alice could see that her outburst had upset her mother and she regretted her hasty words. ‘I am sorry if I offended you, Aunt Jane. But I dislike Horace intensely and I cannot see myself married to him.’

  ‘Whether you like or dislike your future husband is immaterial. You know my terms. You either accept them or you leave my house. Do you understand?’

  After dinner, which as usual was badly cooked and meagre, Alice and her mother huddled by the fire in the dining room. Jane had gone to her room, warning them not to waste expensive candles by staying up late.

  ‘I am sorry, Mama,’ Alice said softly. ‘I was angry but I shouldn’t have spoken out against Horace like that.’

  ‘He isn’t the ideal husband,’ Beth agreed, sighing. ‘I’m sure he has many excellent qualities, but for a start he is much too old for you. I wouldn’t want to see you married to someone like him, even if it meant that we were to live in luxury.’

  ‘I can’t do anything until after Christmas, but I’ll start looking for a better-paid position so that we can find a room to rent, although I’ll hate to leave Flora. She’s a lonely little girl who pines for the mother she’s never known.’

  ‘That is sad, but if her mother gave her up willingly perhaps she is better off where she is.’

  ‘It’s hard being a servant, Mama. I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to be invisible and keep silent, especially when I see things going horribly wrong.’

  ‘I’d like to meet Flora, and I’d like to give Mrs Dearborn a piece of my mind.’

  Alice chuckled at the thought of her meek and mild mother taking on a termagant like Lydia Dearborn. ‘I don’t know about that, Mama, but you’ll see Flora tomorrow. We’ll spend Christmas Day trying to make her happy, but I wish I had a present to give her.’

  Beth frowned thoughtfully. ‘What would she like the most?’

  ‘That’s easy. She’d like to find her real mother.’

  Next morning when Alice went to wake her mother she was alarmed to find her unwell and feverish.

  ‘I must have caught a chill,’ Beth said faintly. ‘It’s so cold in this house, and Jane insisted that I polish the brass door knocker yesterday, even though it was snowing.’

  Alice laid her hand on her mother’s forehead. ‘You are rather hot. You ought to stay
in bed, but I don’t want to leave you on your own.’

  ‘I’ll sleep most of the day, my darling. I would have loved to meet young Flora and see inside the Dearborns’ mansion, but I’m better off where I am.’

  ‘But it’s Christmas Day and I have nothing to give you, Mama. I am so sorry it’s come to this.’

  Beth lifted a thin hand to touch her daughter’s cheek. ‘You are the greatest gift of all. What more could a mother want than a daughter who is kind as well as beautiful, and very talented?’

  ‘Mama, you’ll have me blushing if you say things like that.’ Alice leaned over to drop a kiss on her mother’s forehead. ‘I’ll ask Clara to keep an eye on you, and I’ll come home as soon as I’ve finished work.’ She was about to leave the room when her mother called her back.

  ‘I want to give you something.’ Beth’s voice was hoarse and little more than a whisper. ‘Look in my reticule. The only piece of jewellery that I have left is the silver butterfly brooch your father gave me when you were born. I want you to have it, my love.’

  Alice hesitated; she knew how much her mother valued the delicate filigree brooch. ‘Are you sure, Mama? You don’t have to give me anything.’

  ‘I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you wear it, and it’s the only thing of value I managed to save from the bailiffs. Please take it, Alice.’

  Not wanting to distress her mother, she reached for the reticule and took out the brooch, pinning it at the neck of her blouse. ‘Thank you, Mama. I’ll treasure it always.’

  Beth’s eyelids drooped. ‘You mustn’t be late or Mrs Dearborn might dismiss you, and I’m sleepy.’

  Alice tucked her in and left the room quietly, closing the door behind her. Downstairs in the dining room she found a plate of cold porridge waiting for her but there was no sign of her aunt. Clara brought her a pot of tea, and as usual there was neither milk nor sugar to make it more palatable.

  Alice stirred the thick glutinous oatmeal, wrinkling her nose. ‘I can’t eat this. Has my aunt left for church, Clara?’

  ‘Yes, miss. She went out early and won’t be back for hours. I’m sorry about the porridge, but she made me put it out even though you weren’t here. She said something about being punctual for meals.’ She eyed the plate, licking her lips. ‘Mrs Jugg will tell her if you don’t eat it, miss.’

 

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