A Loving Family

by Dilly Court

  Rosa seemed oblivious to all this and she danced ahead, pausing to close a door in passing. ‘We won’t disturb Kit. He’s poring over some wretched legal books, although much good it seems to do him.’ She hurried on and stopped at the end of the passage, throwing open a door with the air of a conjuror opening a magic box. ‘Here we are. This is where I spend most of my waking hours. I was about to make myself a pot of tea.’ She hurried across the flagstone floor and lifted the kettle from the hob. ‘Make yourself comfortable and we’ll have a lovely long chat.’

  Stella looked round for somewhere to sit but the kitchen table was covered in paper flowers, some of which had spilled onto the chairs and others had ended up in bright pools on the flagstone floor. She cleared a space for herself, taking care not to ruin Rosa’s handiwork. The lilies, she observed, were particularly lifelike. She picked one up by its wire stem to examine it in greater detail.

  ‘They are rather good, aren’t they?’ Rosa said, spooning tea leaves into the pot. ‘But you should see the flowers I create in silk. Now they are really lovely, but making the paper ones pays better. There are more funerals in this part of London than there are weddings or christenings.’ She finished making the tea and placed the pot on the table.

  ‘These lilies are wonderful,’ Stella said, twirling one round in her fingertips. ‘They do look real.’

  ‘Mr Clifford prefers paper flowers to fresh ones. It saves him from spending an exorbitant amount of money on hothouse blooms. My roses and lilies get dusty but they don’t die.’ Rosa bustled about taking cups and saucers from the dresser, and with a final flourish she produced a cake glistening with sugar crystals, which she placed on the table in front of Stella. ‘I’ll pour the tea if you would like to do the honours.’ She handed her a knife. ‘Be generous. I’m starving.’

  ‘There are three plates.’ Stella shot her a curious glance. ‘Is your brother joining us?’

  ‘I’ll take his to the study. He might decide to be sociable if I tell him we have a guest or he might not, depending on his mood.’ Rosa left the room with a cup in one hand and a plate of cake in the other.

  Stella sipped her tea, eyeing the food greedily. Her mouth was watering as the sweet vanilla- and caraway-scented fragrance tempted her to gobble her portion and replace it with another, but good manners prevailed and she sat with her hands folded in her lap until Rosa returned. ‘You shouldn’t have waited for me,’ Rosa said, throwing herself down on one of the chairs regardless of the paper petals she crushed. ‘Do start.’

  Stella bit into the sweet confection and it melted in her mouth. ‘This is delicious. Did you make it?’

  Rosa almost choked on a mouthful of tea. ‘Good heavens, no. I can barely boil an egg. I can make a pot of tea and toast a muffin, although I often burn them because I don’t concentrate on what I’m doing. We’d starve if we had to rely on my culinary talents. I buy pies and baked potatoes from street vendors, or we go to a chophouse if we’re in funds, although that isn’t very often these days.’

  Stella had already finished her cake but did not like to ask for more. She sipped her tea. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t seem the sort of person who would live in a place like this.’

  Rosa proceeded to cut her cake into tiny bite-sized pieces, arranging them in a pattern with the tip of her knife. ‘I’ll tell you my story if you promise to tell me yours.’

  ‘I will.’ Stella smiled. ‘You go first.’

  ‘Well, as you so rightly said, this isn’t the sort of place we might have chosen to reside. Kit and I grew up in relative luxury. Heron Park is a lovely old house set amongst grounds designed by none other than Capability Brown. We had everything that children could possibly want, but things began to change after Mama died three years ago and Uncle Gervase came to live with us. He’s Papa’s younger brother and not a nice man.’

  ‘That must have been very hard for you.’

  ‘It wasn’t easy, but he didn’t bother us too much while Papa was alive. It was when our father died that Uncle Gervase showed his true colours. He turned us out of the house. We were left virtually penniless and homeless as, for some reason best known to himself, Papa left everything to his brother.’

  ‘But you have this house. Was it part of your father’s estate?’

  ‘No, it belonged to our mother’s brother. Uncle Silas left it to Kit when he died last year. But for him we would have been living on the streets.’

  ‘I’m truly sorry for you. I know how it feels to lose everything,’ Stella said with a sigh. ‘But what I don’t understand is how a nice young lady like you would have anything to do with a despicable person like Mr Clifford. I’ve only known him for a short while but I’ve seen the way he’s treated his stepmother and it’s cruel.’

  ‘We’d only been in this house for a day or two when he came knocking on the door. He said that he had been Uncle Silas’s friend, and that he had been keeping an eye on the property since the old man died. He was just checking that we had the right to be here.’

  ‘And you had, of course.’

  ‘Yes, but that wasn’t the real reason as we soon discovered. Uncle Silas was a wine merchant by trade. Mr Clifford said that he’d been promised a case of sherry wine but when Kit took him down to the cellar they found nothing there but empty bottles.’

  ‘It all sounds a bit odd.’

  ‘I didn’t think much of it at the time, but Mr Clifford seemed very put out. What was even more odd was the fact that he seemed to be well acquainted with Uncle Gervase, although I never remember meeting him at Heron Park.’

  ‘Could he perhaps have organised your father’s funeral?’

  ‘That’s what it must have been, although he didn’t explain his connection with Uncle Silas. Anyway, he returned next day when Kit was out. He said that he’d seen the paper flowers I was making to brighten up the house and he’d had an idea which might benefit us both. That’s how it all started.’

  ‘Well, you have a great talent. The flowers are lovely.’

  Rosa pushed the plate towards her. ‘Do have another slice of cake. Making paper flowers is all very well but you can’t eat them. I wish I’d learned how to cook.’

  ‘It’s not so difficult.’ Stella glanced at the rusty range that seemed to plead for a thorough clean and a coat of blacklead. ‘I started work as a scullery maid when I was very young and I ended up as assistant cook in a big country house.’

  ‘So why did you come to London?’

  ‘I was sent into service when I was eleven, and a year later when I was allowed to go home on Mothering Sunday, I found that my family had disappeared without trace. I haven’t seen my mother or my brother and sister for many years.’

  Rosa reached across the table to pat Stella’s hand. ‘You poor thing. How awful.’

  ‘I’m determined to find them, but I haven’t very much money and I must look for cheap lodgings.’

  ‘Then the obvious answer to all our problems is for you to stay here with us. We’ve plenty of room, although it’s not the height of luxury, but you could continue your search and have a roof over your head and quite frankly we could use a little extra money.’

  ‘But you hardly know me, Rosa.’

  ‘First impressions count and I’m sure we would get along very well indeed. If you would make a cake sometimes or bake a pie I would love you forever, and so would Kit.’

  ‘What would I do?’ The sound of a male voice from the doorway made Stella turn her head with a start.

  Rosa leapt to her feet and ran to grab her brother by the arm. ‘Kit, I want you to meet Stella Barry.’ She dragged him into the room. ‘Stella, this is my brother, Kit.’

  Stella looked up into the classical features of Christopher Rivenhall and was met with a stony stare. His china-blue eyes might once have charmed a doting mama or a devoted nanny, but they met hers with an indifferent gaze that bordered on insolence. He had the poetic look of a young Byron or an unhappy schoolboy; Stella could not decide which.
‘How do you do, Miss Barry?’ He turned to his sister. ‘I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me.’

  Her mouth drooped at the corners. ‘But Kit, I’ve invited Stella to stay with us. It would be nice if you were here to have supper with us.’

  ‘We can’t afford to entertain house guests, Rosa. This isn’t Heron Park, or have you forgotten our straitened circumstances?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Rosa brushed a pile of rose petals from the table with an angry sweep of her hand. ‘Why do you think I slave night and day, making artificial flowers for that horrid man at the funeral parlour? I don’t work hard so that you can fritter what little money we have in those expensive establishments in Pall Mall.’

  ‘You know very well why I frequent the gentlemen’s clubs. Unless I can gain information that will discredit our uncle, or find some legal loophole in Father’s will, we’ll never see Heron Park again.’ He strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘I must apologise for my brother’s apparent lack of manners,’ Rosa said, frowning. ‘He’s trying desperately to find a way to regain our inheritance, although I’m afraid it will never happen.’ She made an obvious effort to appear more cheerful. ‘But never mind all that, tell me more about yourself. You’ve heard how we came to live in this dreary place. What was your life like before you went into service? Where did you live?’ She reached for the teapot. ‘Let me refill your cup.’

  As briefly as possible, Stella related her story and Rosa’s mobile features registered the whole gamut of emotions. ‘So you see,’ Stella concluded, ‘we have a lot in common.’

  ‘Indeed we have, which makes it even more important for us to be friends. You will stay with us, won’t you? Kit isn’t always like this. He can be full of fun and quite different when he isn’t deep in those wretched law books or spending evenings in gentlemen’s clubs. Sometimes he comes home the worse for drink, but I can’t find it in my heart to blame him.’

  ‘Drink does terrible things to people,’ Stella said, recalling Tommy Langhorne’s attempted rape with a shudder. ‘But there’s no excuse for your brother treating you like this, Rosa, especially when you work so hard to keep food on the table.’

  ‘You’ve seen him at his worst. He’s obsessed with finding a way to overturn Papa’s will.’

  ‘Did he upset your father in some way?’

  ‘No. The very opposite. Kit and Papa were on the best of terms. We were a happy family until Uncle Gervase came to live with us. He’d gambled away his inheritance and squandered his wife’s money into the bargain. She died in childbirth early on in their marriage and he never remarried.’

  ‘He sounds horrible.’

  ‘He is, and everything changed when he came to live at Heron Park. Uncle Silas delivered huge quantities of wine and spirits to the house each week, and the gossip in the servants’ hall was that Uncle Gervase held wild parties in the caves.’

  ‘The caves?’

  ‘There are underground tunnels on our land where chalk and flint were mined in the Middle Ages. Kit and I used to explore them when we were children, but Uncle Gervase forbade us to go there. He said that they were too dangerous.’

  ‘Was that true?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I knew there must be a reason for what went on in the caves, so one day, when I knew he was out, I went into his room and discovered black robes in the clothes press and books on witchcraft and Satanism.’

  Stella shuddered. ‘It sounds like something out of one of Mrs Radcliffe’s Gothic novels. Cook was an avid reader and she let me have The Romance of the Forest when she’d finished it.’

  ‘I watched him from my bedroom window one night. He was heading in the direction of the caves, and he wasn’t alone. There was a whole group of them, both men and women, and that was enough to convince me that the servants’ tittle-tattle had some basis in truth.’

  ‘He sounds like a very wicked man.’

  ‘Perhaps you can understand now why Kit is so desperate to find a way to oust him and regain our rightful inheritance.’

  ‘It’s none of my business, of course, Rosa. But why doesn’t your brother look for work? He might then be able to employ a lawyer to act for him.’

  ‘Papa brought Kit up to manage the estate, and it’s all that he knows. He has a small annuity left to him by Uncle Silas, and my earnings help with little luxuries, but we can’t afford to pay a lawyer who could contest the will.’

  Stella could have said much more on the subject but she could see that Rosa was upset, and she obviously hero-worshipped her brother. She thought secretly that Kit ought to find a job, even if it meant working on the railways or digging canals in order to support his sister. ‘I think you’re very brave. Kit is lucky to have a sister like you.’

  Rosa clutched Stella’s hand. ‘Please say you’ll accept my invitation to stay for a while. I’d love to have your company and the occasional cake or pie wouldn’t go amiss. What do you say?’

  ‘How could I refuse? But I’ll pay my way by cooking all the meals and I’ll make a start by cleaning the range.’

  Rosa jumped up and enveloped her in a hug. ‘We will do very well together. We’re sisters in adversity, after all.’

  Next morning Stella was up at dawn, cleaning the range with a wire brush and a bucket of soapy water. She had almost completed her task when the kitchen door opened and Kit entered the room. He was wearing a faded velvet dressing robe and his blond hair was tousled. He stared at her in surprise. ‘You’re up early.’

  She sat back on her haunches, giving him a steady look. ‘I’ll pay my way. I’m used to hard work.’

  A faint smile lit his eyes and his lips twitched. ‘Is that a barb meant for me, Stella?’

  ‘You remembered my name.’

  ‘I apologise for my behaviour yesterday. I was downright rude.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said evenly. ‘You were, but I was trained in service and I’m used to the unpredictable moods of the gentry.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Ouch. That one hit home. You won that round.’

  She turned away and continued scrubbing the last of the rust from the cast iron. ‘It’s not a game, Mr Rivenhall. As I see it we’re all in the same boat.’

  ‘My sister tells me that you can cook.’

  She scrubbed hard at an obstinate patch on the metal. ‘There are hot bread rolls wrapped in a cloth on the top of the stove. I went to the bakery first thing and bought them with my own money, and there is butter in the dish and milk in the jug. The tea in the pot is still warm, but it might be a bit stewed by now.’

  He moved to the range and leaned over her to snatch up the bread basket. ‘You are a treasure,’ he said, taking two. ‘I look forward to getting better acquainted. Rosa is in charge of the housekeeping money, but I would do almost anything for some collops of beef in a port wine sauce.’

  She shot him a sideways glance and saw that he was smiling. ‘We might run to a shin of beef stew, but only if I can get this monster clean enough to use by midday.’

  He buttered the bread and took a bite, closing his eyes with a beatific grin. ‘Anything you say, Stella.’ He was suddenly serious. ‘Rosa waited up for me last night. She told me of your mission to find your mother. If there is anything I can do to help you only have to say. I am studying law and spending most of my days in court, listening and learning. I’ve come across men whose work involves the seeking out of missing persons.’

  Stella dropped the wire brush into the bucket, and rose to her feet. ‘Would it not be better for you to take up gainful employment and pay for a lawyer to work on your behalf?’

  ‘I choose to study law. I’m hoping to obtain a position as an articled clerk in a law firm, which will help me to further my ambition.’

  ‘You want to become a lawyer?’

  ‘That’s my ultimate goal.’ He poured tea into a cup and added a splash of milk. ‘I was brought up as a gentleman. I only know how to run an estate, but that is unlikely to come my way f
or many years, if ever. I need a profession where I can not only earn a living but also regain the respect of my peers. My family’s reputation has been sadly tarnished by my uncle’s misdeeds.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought you cared what people think of you.’ She had spoken the words in haste, but Kit Rivenhall seemed to bring out the worst in her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added, wishing that she had held her tongue. ‘That’s how it seems to me.’

  ‘I probably gave you the wrong impression of me, but you aren’t entirely wrong. However, I have Rosa to consider, and if she is to find a husband who is worthy of her then she must move in the right circles. I don’t want to see her wasting her talents working for that mean devil Ronald Clifford. I’ve half a mind to go there and tell him what he can do with his measly shilling a week.’ He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the latch. ‘Anyway, I’m glad Rosa has you to keep her company. She needs a woman with strength of character as her friend.’ He left the room as abruptly as he had entered, and she stared after him, shaking her head. Perhaps her first impression had been wrong, but Kit Rivenhall was obviously a complex character. She had the feeling that there were many more layers to his personality yet to be revealed.

  She looked up at the fly-spotted mirror above the slate mantelshelf and saw to her horror that she had a streak of dirt on her forehead and a spot of rust on her cheek. She took the bucket to the sink and emptied it. A servant she had been and she was still little more than that now. She was not compelled to do housework but her pride would not allow her to take charity from anyone, let alone people who were only a little better off than she herself.

  Later that morning, with the range gleaming beneath its coat of blacklead and its fire warming the room, Stella was preparing to leave the house when Rosa wandered into the kitchen. She was fully dressed but her blonde curls hung loose around her shoulders and she had the look of someone who was still half asleep. Her eyes opened wide when she looked around the spotless kitchen. ‘My goodness,’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands. ‘The old range looks like new. What a transformation. You must have been up all night to have done so much.’