A Mother's Trust

by Dilly Court

  Phoebe ran after them, hardly daring to hope that this was the end of her ordeal. Teddy’s cries echoed throughout the house and when they reached the ground floor they found Lizzie hovering anxiously at the foot of the stairs. Rogue thrust the howling baby into her arms. ‘Take him to Mrs Warboys. She’ll know what to do.’ He turned to Phoebe with a grim smile. ‘Cook has eleven children of her own, so I think she’ll know how to deal with young Teddy.’

  Phoebe opened her mouth to protest, but Lizzie had scuttled away carrying her noisy burden as if he were a valuable piece of porcelain and might shatter if dropped. ‘Come into my study,’ Rogue said gruffly. ‘You look as though you could do with something stronger than tea.’

  ‘How did you …?’ She broke off as he pointed in the direction of the parlour. Through the open door she saw the tea tray with the plate of fruitcake untouched. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘Your bonnet was hanging on the hallstand, for one thing.’ Rogue opened the study door and ushered her inside, closing it behind her. ‘And for another, Ned never touches tea and cake. Then I heard the baby crying.’ He walked over to a side table and drew the cork from a brandy bottle, pouring two stiff measures. He handed one to Phoebe. ‘Sit down and sip that. You’ve had a nasty experience and for that I blame my brother. I’m sorry.’

  She sank down on the nearest chair, accepting the drink and taking a sip, which almost took her breath away. ‘It’s not your fault. But I’m afraid he’s done something so ill-judged that it will be the ruin of us all.’

  ‘Ned seems to have gone out. Have you any idea where he might have gone?’

  ‘He went to fetch Ivy, Teddy’s wet nurse. He’s determined to keep him here at all costs, but it won’t do. It just won’t.’

  ‘I’ll speak to him. You mustn’t worry.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Phoebe said in desperation. ‘If he’s gone to my grandparents’ home in Saffron Hill and demands to see Ivy, the truth is bound to come out. There’ll be terrible trouble.’

  ‘Then we’d best get you home as soon as possible.’ He downed the brandy in one gulp. ‘Get your bonnet and I’ll fetch young Teddy from the kitchen. That’s if Mrs Warboys will part with him.’

  ‘I’ll come with you. He might be scared with people he doesn’t know.’ Phoebe rose hastily to her feet, handing him the glass. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t like brandy or any strong spirits. The smell reminds me of the times when I had to help Ma home from the pub and she could hardly put one foot in front of the other.’

  Rogue replaced the glass on the table. ‘You’ve had a difficult life, Madonna. I’ll try not to make it even harder for you.’ He led the way out of the room and down the back stairs to the basement kitchen.

  To Phoebe’s surprise she found her baby brother sitting on Mrs Warboys’ knee taking sops from a spoon. ‘He’s not weaned yet,’ she said anxiously.

  Mrs Warboys’ plump face creased into a smile. ‘No wonder he’s hungry all the time. He’s a fine boy and he’s quite ready for a spoonful or two of sops. How old is he?’

  ‘Six months or so. I’ve lost count.’

  ‘There, then. That’s what I thought. My boys were just the same and they’re not much different now they’re grown men. He still needs his ma’s milk, of course.’ She inclined her head towards Phoebe and her meaning was clear.

  ‘Oh, no.’ Phoebe said, feeling even more discomforted as the ready blush rose to her cheeks. ‘I’m not his mother. I’m his sister.’

  ‘An easy mistake, ducks. You’ve got the look of a little mother about you. I can see you with a brood of nippers afore you’re very much older.’

  Lizzie and a young girl who had emerged from the scullery with a cloth in her hands both giggled at this, but were silenced by a look from their master. The scullery maid scuttled back to her place at the sink, and the bell marked Front Door jangled on its spring, causing Lizzie to hurry up the stairs in response to its urgent summons.

  Phoebe took Teddy from Mrs Warboys. He was smacking his lips appreciatively having consumed at least half the contents of a bowl of bread and milk, and seemed no worse for the experience. ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Phoebe said politely. ‘I think you must be right.’

  ‘I am, indeed.’ As Mrs Warboys heaved herself off the chair, her stays creaked like the timbers on a sailing ship. ‘You’ll learn, my dear.’

  Rogue was already halfway up the stairs. ‘It sounds as if my brother has returned. You’d better come up and face him, Phoebe. We’ll sort this matter out once and for all.’

  She was trembling inwardly, but she followed him up the stairs and into the hall. It was obvious that Lizzie had forewarned Ned. He glared at Rogue as if ready for a fight. ‘What’s the matter, brother? Has she been telling tales?’

  Rogue shook his head. ‘What d’you think you’re playing at, you damn fool?’

  ‘None of your business, brother.’

  ‘Yes, it is. What in hell’s name did you think you were doing, locking Phoebe and the kid away in the attic?’

  ‘I’m going to marry her.’ Ned extracted a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. ‘Special licence. We can be married tomorrow, although I’d prefer to do it today and get it over with.’

  ‘Give that to me.’ Rogue snatched it from him. He scanned its contents, frowning. ‘As I thought, Ned. You didn’t have time to obtain the real thing. This is a forgery, and not even a good one. I’ll bet you bought this off old Ezekiel in Five Foot Lane.’

  ‘What if I did? No one would know the difference. Most clergymen are near-sighted from squinting at the small print in the Bible all their lives.’ Ned made a grab for the document but in doing so the fragile sheet of paper was torn in two. He swore loudly. ‘Now look what you’ve done.’

  Phoebe could stand it no longer. She made for the door, snatching her bonnet from the peg as she went past the hallstand. ‘You two are like a pair of hateful schoolboys,’ she said bitterly. ‘There’s not much to choose between you, if you ask me.’ She attempted to open the door but her bonnet strings had become tangled in the handle, and she was further hampered by Teddy, who was struggling with renewed vigour.

  Lizzie rushed to her assistance. ‘Let me, miss.’

  ‘Stop where you are,’ Ned commanded in stentorian tones. ‘You’re not going anywhere, Phoebe. Even if I have to tie you to a chair, you’re staying here. We will be wed, and I’ll get another licence in the morning.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘SHUT UP, NED.’ Rogue stepped in between them. ‘This has gone far enough. We must do what is right for the boy. From now on you’ll see him when Phoebe says so, and you can forget this marriage nonsense. She won’t consent to it and neither will I.’

  ‘There you are, miss.’ Lizzie had somehow managed to untangle the bonnet strings and was holding the front door wide open.

  Phoebe shot her a grateful smile. ‘Thank you, Lizzie.’ She hurried out of the house, eager to escape from the clutches of both Paxman brothers. She could hear them shouting at each other as she ran down the street, but she did not look round. She could only hope that she would reach home before her grandfather and uncles returned from their day’s trading, and that her absence had gone unnoticed by eagle-eyed Nonna.

  Teddy was fast asleep by the time Phoebe let herself into the house. She paused in the hallway, holding her breath as she heard male voices emanating from the parlour. It was unusual for the Giamatti men to sit down and relax before supper as it was their habit to clean the equipment and make everything ready for their early morning start before they thought about satisfying their hunger. A trill of laughter from her grandmother aroused her curiosity even more, but she went first to the kitchen where she found Ivy deep in conversation with Lorenzo. They did not hear her at first and she was struck once again by the easy intimacy that seemed to have developed between them. It was good, she thought, to see Nenzo enjoying female company. Of her two uncles, she harboured a soft spot for kindly Lorenzo. Painfully shy with women, he seemed to ha
ve found his soulmate in Ivy. Phoebe certainly hoped so for both their sakes. She cleared her throat and they leapt apart with guilty looks that might have been comical if Phoebe had been in the mood to laugh. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump.’

  ‘You shouldn’t creep around like that, cara.’ Lorenzo picked up a towel and made for the door leading into the back yard. ‘I’m going to have a wash before dinner. That is if Mamma remembers to cook anything.’ He strolled outside, humming a popular tune.

  Phoebe handed Teddy to Ivy, taking care not to wake him. ‘He’s been fed,’ she whispered. ‘He took bread and milk and kept it down, so perhaps we should start giving him more solids now.’

  ‘Where have you been?’ Ivy asked anxiously. ‘The missis was starting to fret, that is until the stranger came to the door.’

  ‘What stranger?’ Phoebe was suddenly alert, her pulses racing. ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘I dunno who he is, but he was tall and dressed all in black like an undertaker. He talked like a toff, but he had strange eyes and he scared me.’

  ‘I’m sure my grandfather will deal with him,’ Phoebe said, making an effort to appear calm. ‘Take Teddy upstairs and put him in his cot, please, Ivy. He should sleep for a while.’

  Ivy smiled at the sleeping baby in her arms. ‘He’s growing up fast. Soon he’ll have no need of me.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I’ll have to find another place, or go back to Brighton. Not that there’s anything there for me now.’

  ‘We’ll worry about that when the time comes.’ Phoebe shooed her out of the kitchen. ‘But don’t let it bother you,’ she called after her. ‘I’m sure things will work out.’ Alone in the kitchen, she leaned against the doorpost. Caspar. Ivy’s brief description fitted him perfectly, but there could be only one reason for him to come to the house. He meant trouble. She took off her bonnet and patted her hair into place. There was little use procrastinating; she must face him sooner or later. Better go now and get it over with. If he had come to denounce her she needed to know. She squared her shoulders and headed for the parlour.

  Her worst fears were confirmed when she entered the room. Caspar was sitting on the horsehair sofa next to her grandmother, who was beaming at him as if delighted by his company. Nonno was standing with his back to the empty grate, smoking his pipe and looking at ease with the stranger. He greeted Phoebe with a smile. ‘There you are, cara. We were beginning to think you’d got lost. Or were you with Gino?’ He gave a throaty chuckle. ‘My little Phoebe is betrothed to a fine young man, Mr Collins. But I expect you know that already, as you were such good friends in Brighton.’

  Caspar rose to his feet, holding his hands out to Phoebe. ‘My dear, how nice to see you again. I was in the vicinity so I thought I would pay a courtesy call on you and your family.’ He turned his head to smile at Maria. ‘I’ve been royally entertained.’

  Phoebe kept her arms clamped to her sides. She was not going to play his game, whatever that was. ‘What do you want, Caspar?’

  ‘Phoebe,’ Maria said in a shocked tone. ‘Where are your manners? Mr Collins is a guest in our house.’

  ‘I’ve nothing to say to him, Nonna. We did not part on the best of terms.’

  ‘A simple misunderstanding,’ Caspar said, smiling and baring his teeth at the same time so that his expression held a hint of menace. ‘I apologise profusely for anything I may have said that upset you, my dear. I am a perfectionist, as I told your excellent grandparents. Perhaps I allow my artistic temperament to run away with me at times.’

  ‘I think you’d better leave.’ Phoebe held the door open.

  ‘Whatever passed between you, I think you should give the man his due,’ Fabio said sternly. ‘You should at least listen to what he proposes, Phoebe.’

  ‘Yes, cara. Think hard before turning down such a generous proposition.’ Maria sent her a meaningful look, jerking her head towards Caspar, whose face seemed to have set in a rictus grin.

  ‘What is it you have to say to me?’ Phoebe demanded, refusing to respond with a smile.

  Caspar held his hands palms upwards as if in supplication, his face frozen in the truly awful grimace. ‘My dear, I need you to help me in my act. I’ve promised your grandparents that it is only for two weeks, which is the term of my contract at the theatre, but the young lady who was assisting me has had an unfortunate accident and cannot perform. I’ll pay you well, Phoebe. Surely you can help an old friend in his hour of need?’

  The warning glint in his eyes told her that a refusal would incur a swift reprisal. He did not have to put the threat into words. ‘You want me to be your assistant for two weeks. Is that it?’

  ‘You could give up these horrible séances and table tipping,’ Maria said before Caspar had a chance to respond. ‘You know how I hate having all that spooky business going on in the house, Phoebe. Heaven knows, I put up with it while Annie was dabbling in the occult, but it’s not what I want for you, cara. And you won’t be able to continue with it when you are married to Gino.’

  ‘Well, Phoebe? What do you say, my dear?’

  She glanced at her grandfather, hoping that he might disagree with Caspar’s proposal, but Fabio shrugged his shoulders. ‘It seems a reasonable request, Phoebe. I wouldn’t approve of you going on the stage as a career, but I can have no objection to you helping out an old friend.’

  ‘I’d like a few words in private.’ Phoebe left the room, beckoning to Caspar who snatched up his top hat and followed her, pausing for a moment to offer a few words of apology to her grandparents. She waited until they were outside the house before turning on him. ‘What are you playing at? I thought I made my position clear when we last met.’

  ‘And I thought you understood that I want you to work with me. With your psychic powers and my genius we could top the bill in the most prestigious theatres in London and on the Continent. I can’t do it alone, but with you at my side I could be one of the greats.’

  ‘You’re talking nonsense. I have no psychic powers. It’s all a trick and I don’t want to go on the stage. And I don’t want to work with you.’

  He set his top hat on his head. ‘But you will nonetheless. Or I will feel obliged to tell your charming grandparents that you are a liar and that your mother was a whore.’

  Phoebe clenched her hands at her sides. Her fingers itched to wipe the smug smile off his face, but she managed to control herself. She knew now that his sanity was balanced on a knife edge. She had seen him change in a moment from the charming intelligent man he purported to be into a malignant entity who was completely beyond reason, and was more than capable of carrying out his threats. She must play for time. ‘When do you want me to start?’

  ‘That’s a good girl. I knew you’d see sense. Come to Villiers Street tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. You will move into my lodgings for the duration of our contract, so bring whatever you need.’

  Horrified by the overt proposition, Phoebe recoiled. ‘That wasn’t part of the bargain.’

  ‘The only bargain I’m prepared to make is to keep my mouth shut in return for whatever service I require of you. Do I make myself plain?’ He thrust his face close to hers, fixing her with a gaze that sapped her will. In the flicker of an eyelid she was turned into a puppet and he the puppet master. ‘Do you understand, Phoebe?’

  She nodded wordlessly and he kissed her on the lips before sauntering off down the street. She covered her mouth with her hand, and a shudder ran down her spine. His brief, passionless gesture of possession had felt like a threat rather than a lover-like embrace. She could scarcely believe that he wanted to own her body and soul, but she knew instinctively that to put herself in his power would be to lose everything she held dear. And he would not let her go. She knew that now. He was quite mad.

  Picking up her skirts, she ran towards the house at the end of the street where Gino and his mother rented a couple of rooms. She arrived just as he was about to leave the building. His face lit up when he saw her and he held o
ut his arms. ‘Cara mia. I was on my way to see you.’

  She rushed into his embrace. At least she felt safe and loved with Gino. She raised her face to receive his kiss. There was no doubting his sincerity or the depth of his emotions, but no matter how hard she tried she still could not respond in kind. When they drew apart he did not seem to have noticed anything amiss. His eyes shone and his lips curved in a tender smile. ‘I’ve missed you too, Phoebe. I can’t bear to be parted from you even for a day.’

  She could not keep up the pretence that all was well, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m in terrible trouble, Gino. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘My darling, what’s wrong? Come in and tell me all about it.’ He pushed the door open and led her into the dark and narrow hall. The smell of boiled cabbage and garlic almost overpowered the stench emanating from the communal privy in the back yard. The room that Gino and his mother rented was on the top floor of the three-storey building, and he shared a basement kitchen with another immigrant family in which they made their daily quota of ice cream. It was not, as he often said, a very satisfactory arrangement, but it meant that he and his mother could live cheaply and save money.

  Phoebe followed him into the attic where Signora Argento was attempting to boil pasta over a desultory fire in the small grate. The room was hot and stuffy even though the roof window had been wedged open with an old boot. She straightened up when Gino entered and her curious expression dissolved into a pleased smile when she saw Phoebe. ‘I haven’t seen you for weeks, cara. This bad leg of mine makes it difficult for me to cope with the stairs these days.’ She indicated her left hip, grimacing with pain as she made a move towards Phoebe. ‘I can’t wait to go home next month.’

  ‘Phoebe is in trouble, Mamma,’ Gino said softly. ‘She needs our help.’

  ‘Trouble!’ Lalia Argento’s voice rose to a squeak. ‘Not another bambino on the way so soon?’