by Dilly Court
‘I know,’ Viola agreed. ‘I’ve already thought of that and it worries me. I don’t want to send her away to boarding school, but a day school is out of the question.’
Alice gave her a searching look. ‘Have you been approached by Molly?’
‘No, but I find their silence more worrying than overt threats.’
‘Perhaps she’s given up. Maybe the ransom was all that she really wanted.’
‘She’ll be back as soon as the money runs out, which is why Flora must remain here until I can find a better way. But I’m afraid I’m being unfair to you, Alice. I can’t keep you here.’ She returned to the desk and picked up another painting. She studied it, shaking her head. ‘Talent like this mustn’t go to waste.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m going to stay here for a few days. I want to spend more time with my daughter, and you need to see your friends. That’s what I came to tell you. Pack your bag, Alice. Briggs is in the kitchen enjoying some of Mrs Abbott’s cooking, but I’ve given him instructions to drive you to Five Foot Lane, or wherever you want to go. He’ll be back to pick you up at the end of the week.’
‘I – I don’t know what to say,’ Alice said breathlessly. ‘Do you think it’s safe? I’m not afraid for myself, but if Molly finds out I’m in London she might have me followed and eventually that must lead her here.’
‘It’s as safe as it’s ever going to be. You need this time to yourself, and if you see Rory you can find out more about this chromolithography process, and maybe get him on our side. I’ve plans for us, Alice. You and I are going to start our own greetings card business. I’ll supply the funding and you’ll provide the knowledge and expertise.’
Viola’s words were still fresh in Alice’s mind when she alighted from the carriage outside the Youngs’ home in Five Foot Lane. She glanced round with a wry smile. Nothing had changed: the fat tabby cat sunning himself on a nearby doorstep replete after gorging fish heads in Billingsgate Market was in the same position he had been when she last saw him. The ragged boys bunking off school were playing tag, their unshod feet barely touching the cold cobblestones as they raced around, shouting at the tops of their voices. An angry mother came into view, shaking her fist and shouting at her errant son, who immediately fled together with his fellow truants.
Alice realised with a rueful smile that despite the sweet fresh air in the country and the beauty of nature, she had missed the hurly-burly of city life. The noxious odours emanating from the manufactories along the river and the polluted waters of the Thames mingled with the stench of the night soil, as yet uncollected, and the piles of horse dung that carpeted the roads. Even so, it was good to be home for this was where her heart truly resided. She raised her hand and knocked on the door. Jackie’s high-pitched wailing was accompanied by the patter of footsteps and Rose opened the door. Her momentary shocked expression was quickly replaced by one of delight.
‘Alice, my dear, you’ve come home.’
Alice stepped over the threshold and hugged mother and child. ‘I’ve missed you all, Rose. It’s so good to see you.’
‘I was just about to feed this troublesome infant.’ Rose scuttled along the passage heading for the kitchen. ‘The family are all at work or school, and Harry is in bed asleep, with Skipper at his side, so it’s only us and little Annie. Put the kettle on, Alice, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea.’
Having satisfied Rose’s curiosity with a long and detailed account of how she had discovered that Aunt Viola was alive and well and that Flora was her long-lost child, Alice was quite exhausted. Rose was suitably enthralled with the tale and bombarded her with questions, which she did her best to answer. Finally, after drinking several cups of tea and eating a slice of bread and scrape, Alice made her excuses and left the house, promising to return later in the day.
A chilly March wind was whistling up the river and the sun was shining as Alice left the house, but there was a hint of spring in the city air and she had a sudden urge to visit the Dearborns’ offices in Farringdon Street. Of course, she told herself firmly, it was George she wanted to see, but she had matters to discuss with Rory. She might not be employed there but Frederick had her designs and she was entitled to know whether or not they intended to use them. It would simply be a business meeting; nothing more.
She was almost there when she came to a halt. To walk into Dearborns’ as if nothing had happened might be a mistake. She had left under a cloud, and if Rory had wanted to see her he would have made an effort to discover her whereabouts. Rose would have been sure to mention his name had he made enquiries about her, but she had simply rambled on about George, and how much he missed her. She knew instinctively that Rose would be delighted to welcome her into the family as George’s wife, but if there was one thing she had learned about herself during her sojourn in the country, it was that George could never be more to her than a dear friend. She hailed a cab and gave the driver her mother’s address in Islington. Family must come first, and Ma was entitled to know where she had been and why she had left London so suddenly. Everyone else must wait, even Rory.
Beth greeted her with a cry of delight and a warm embrace. ‘You naughty girl,’ she said, halfway between tears and laughter. ‘You disappeared without trace and it was almost a fortnight before Carrie came to tell me that you were staying with friends in the country.’
She ushered Alice into the front room of the terraced house, and Alice recognised at once the oddments of furniture that had come from the house in Queen Square. Beth, however, had put her touch of magic on the shabby old-fashioned sofa and chairs with sparkling white antimacassars, and the faded mahogany had been polished until it glowed like horse chestnuts fresh from their spiny carapaces. Glass vases filled with daffodils were placed strategically around the room and a coal fire burned brightly in the grate.
‘What do you think of my front parlour?’ Beth asked, smiling happily. ‘It’s small, but it’s home.’
‘It’s very cosy, Mama.’ Alice took off her mantle and draped it over the back of a chair. ‘Are you happy? Is Horace treating you well?’
Beth tugged the bell pull before arranging herself daintily in an armchair by the fire. She folded her hands in her lap and a smile curved her pretty lips. ‘He is an ideal husband, which may surprise you, Alice.’
‘Ideal? Yes, that does come as something of a shock.’
‘You’re too hard on him, my dear. In fact, I don’t think you gave poor Horace a chance to prove himself. He’s kind and gentle beneath that bumbling manner of his. He’s very thoughtful and undemanding, besides which he’s out at work all day and often remains at the office until late in the evening. We meet over the supper table and he tells me what has happened during the day, and then he reads the newspaper until it’s time to retire.’ She blushed delicately. ‘I am more than content with my lot, dearest, so you mustn’t worry about me.’ She looked up as the door opened and a small, plump woman bustled into the room.
‘You want something, missis?’
‘Tea for two, please, Mrs Hoddinot, and some biscuits if my husband hasn’t demolished them all.’ Beth turned to Alice with a wry smile. ‘Horace has a sweet tooth, and Mrs Hoddinot makes the most delicious cake and biscuits.’
‘I’ll take a peek in the pantry, missis, but the master has an appetite like a gannet, if you’ll excuse me for saying so.’ Mrs Hoddinot backed out of the room, staring at Alice as if committing every feature to memory.
‘She’s a treasure really,’ Beth said apologetically. ‘But she used to be a cook in a local public house, so she is something of a rough diamond. She makes poor little Snippet seem well-trained and quite a treasure. Mrs Hoddinot’s manners leave something to be desired, and her language is rather colourful, but she is an excellent plain cook.’
‘And she works for next to nothing,’ Alice suggested mischievously. ‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ she added hastily, noting her mother’s pained expression. ‘I was joking, of course. Horace isn’
t mean like Aunt Jane.’
‘No, indeed. I have had enough of Jane to last a lifetime. It was the happiest day of my life when I walked out of that mausoleum for the last time.’ Beth sighed. ‘Your poor papa would have turned in his grave had he seen the way Jane treated me. Now, tell me everything, my love. Who are the mysterious friends with whom you were residing in the country?’
‘It’s as well you’re sitting down, Mama. This will come as rather a shock, but Aunt Viola didn’t die in childbirth. She is very much alive and young Flora is her natural daughter.’
Beth fanned herself with her hand. ‘My goodness, this is a surprise. Are you sure?’
‘I’ve been staying with Viola and Flora for the last few weeks, Mama. Not only is she alive and well but Aunt Viola is a very successful businesswoman, and extremely wealthy.’
Beth’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘She always was a bit of a madam. I knew she would come to no good in the end. I doubt she’s done an honest day’s work in her life.’
Torn between laughter and exasperation, Alice shook her head. ‘That’s so unfair. You know nothing of her life after Aunt Jane threw her out.’
Beth opened her mouth to reply but was cut short by Mrs Hoddinot, who burst into the room, bristling with indignation. ‘There’s a gent at the front door what says he wants to see her.’ She pointed her finger at Alice. ‘I give him a mouthful and told him to sling his hook, but he stepped inside bold as brass. Shall I call a copper?’
Beth turned to Alice in alarm. ‘What shall we do? We’re three helpless women, and it might be that libertine who ran away with Viola.’
‘That’s impossible, Mama. Edmond Bishop is dead.’
‘Bishop?’ Mrs Hoddinot’s voice rose to a shriek. ‘If he’s one of the Bishop gang I’m off.’
Alice leaped to her feet. ‘Don’t worry, Mama. I’m not afraid. I’ll soon sort this out.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alice stepped into the narrow hall, fearing the worst, but even though he was standing with his back to the light she could see that the intruder was not Eric the Axe. ‘What’s the meaning of this? Who are you, sir?’
He took off his hat. ‘What sort of welcome is that?’
‘Rory.’ There was no mistaking his voice and as he stepped out of the shadows she could see that he was smiling. Flustered and taken off guard, she resorted to sarcasm as a means of defence. ‘Answering a question with another question is futile,’ she said, repeating Philip Hart’s words.
‘Is that all you have to say to me?’ His smile faded. ‘I’ve spent the last few weeks chasing round London in an attempt to find you.’
Her heart was thudding against her ribs but she was determined to remain calm. ‘Well, now you have. I suppose you still blame me for Flora’s abduction, but I want you to know that she is safe.’
‘I know that already,’ he said, moderating his tone. ‘My search took me to Hertfordshire. I’ve seen her and spoken to her mother.’
Mrs Hoddinot poked her head round the door before Alice had a chance to respond. ‘Shall I send for a constable, miss?’
‘No, it’s all right, thank you. I know this gentleman.’
‘Huh!’ Mrs Hoddinot emerged from the parlour, standing arms akimbo as she looked Rory up and down. ‘Gentlemen don’t force their way into respectable persons’ homes.’ She marched off towards the back of the house.
‘Is everything all right, Alice?’ Beth’s querulous voice was almost drowned by the slamming of the kitchen door.
‘You’d better come into the parlour,’ Alice said hastily. ‘Please don’t say anything that will alarm my mother.’
Rory followed her into the room where Beth was seated on the edge of her chair. Her frightened expression dissolved into a smile and she rose to her feet, holding out her hand. ‘Mr Dearborn, you startled us.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Hubble. It wasn’t my intention, but I needed to speak to Alice.’
‘I understand, and anyway I have to see Cook about dinner. Please excuse me.’ Beth fluttered from the room with a swish of starched petticoats.
Alice faced Rory, regarding him with a steady gaze. She had regained her self-control, but her pulse was still racing. ‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘I was growing desperate. I’d just returned from Hertfordshire, having missed you by a few hours, and I went straight to the office. George didn’t know where you were, but I decided to visit Five Foot Lane on the off chance of finding you there.’
‘And Rose told you where I’d gone.’
‘Exactly. Once again I’d missed you by a whisker.’
Alice threw back her head and laughed. ‘That’s really funny because I almost called in at the office in Farringdon Street, but I thought I might not be welcome, so I changed my mind and came here. I could have saved you the bother of coming all this way to find me.’
His expression lightened. ‘I’ve come to apologise.’
She sank down on the sofa. ‘For what exactly?’
‘For everything.’ He pulled up a chair. ‘I blamed you for your actions that led to Flora being kidnapped, when in truth you were trying to help her.’
‘I was only doing what I thought best.’
‘I realise that now, and it’s partly my fault that you had a hard time in the office. I should have done more to make life easier for you because you are a talented artist in your own right, and your drawings are unique and incomparable. George told me how you’ve been treated while I was away and it’s just not on. If we employ more women I’ll see to it that they are given the respect due to them.’
‘That’s quite a speech. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Flora is safe now and for that I’m truly grateful. She showed me the designs you’ve been creating and they’re marvellous. I want you to come back to work.’
The surge of joy that had almost overwhelmed her when he apologised dissipated like morning mist. ‘So that’s what this is all about? You want me to return to Dearborns’.’
‘That wasn’t my main reason for coming here today, Alice. Surely you must know how I feel about you?’
‘If you’d said that at the start I might have fallen for your flattery, but you were speaking as my employer, not my friend.’
He grasped her hands in his. ‘I want to be more than a friend, Alice. I’ve been a fool and I should have listened to my heart and not my head.’
‘If you’d had any genuine fondness for me you wouldn’t have behaved as you did. You didn’t trust me to do the right thing by Flora, and I can’t forgive that so easily.’ She snatched her hands away and stood up. Her knees were shaking but the emotion that threatened to overcome her was anger. ‘Your only real love is your printworks.’
He stared at her, frowning. ‘That’s not true. Of course I want you to return to us, but …’
‘Did George tell you that his sister was going to introduce me to Bertie Challoner, your arch rival? Is that why you’ve taken all this trouble to find me?’
‘He might have mentioned it in passing, but that’s not the reason I came here today. You’re deliberately misunderstanding my motives.’
‘Really?’ She faced him coolly. ‘As it happens I am going to work for another company, but this time it will be my own, or at least I’ll have half shares. My aunt is going to put up the capital and I’m going to design greetings cards, and in particular cards for the festive season. I don’t need your forgiveness or that of your brother. Flora is my cousin – we’re family – and families look after each other. I had every right to take her away from that dreadful school, which should be closed down for mistreating children.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting one thing?’ Rory stood up, meeting her angry gaze with a questioning look. ‘Molly Bishop is out for revenge. Viola told me the whole story and she’s worried for your safety. The Bishop gang are notorious and ruthless, as we know. And I want to protect you. Is that so wrong?’
‘Do you want to protect me or is
it your business interests that make you care about so passionately?’
‘What do you want me to say, Alice? How can I convince you that my feelings for you are genuine?’
‘Are they? You haven’t once mentioned the word love. You like to make a joke of everything, and I never know when you’re being serious. I wonder if you have it in you to care for another person more than you care for yourself, or your wretched business.’
‘Is that what this is all about? Do you want me to write poetry in your honour? Do you need me to shower you with jewels and red roses? Have I got to serenade you like some lovesick troubadour to prove how I feel?’
‘How you feel,’ she repeated slowly. ‘It’s all about you, isn’t it? Your brother is the same, so no wonder Lydia behaves as she does. I only hope she can find it in her heart to be good to Mary, and not treat her like a china doll to be set apart and admired but never cuddled or told she was loved.’
‘You might find this hard to believe, but Lydia dotes on the child. They both want to adopt Mary, and Frederick is in contact with her aunt.’
‘That’s good news,’ Alice said stiffly. ‘I’m glad for Mary’s sake, and Flora will be delighted. I just hope Lydia doesn’t tire of her new toy.’
‘I’m sorry you think so little of me and my family. I’d better go now and leave you to make matters right with your mother. At least she seems happy.’ He made a move towards the door and then came to a halt. He turned and strode towards her, taking her in his arms before she had a chance to resist. His lips found hers in a kiss that was almost brutal in its intensity, and just as suddenly he released her. ‘If you change your mind or if you need anything, you know where to find me.’
And then he was gone, leaving a faint scent of bay rum and printer’s ink in his wake. Shocked, stunned and struggling with unfamiliar emotions, Alice moved swiftly to the window and drew back the net curtain. She heard the front door open and then close and watched him walk away, suppressing the desperate urge to race after him.