by Dilly Court
‘You mean I can live here with you, miss?’ Spike’s brown eyes filled with tears. ‘Do you want me? No one ever did afore.’
‘Of course I do, and so does Stella. I don’t know how we’ll manage without my money from Mr Clifford, but perhaps there’s another undertaker in the neighbourhood who would appreciate my work.’
Stella waited until Spike was settled with a mug of sweet tea and a plateful of food before drawing Rosa aside. ‘Did you really mean that? Can the boy stay here?’
‘Where else would he go? I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to the workhouse.’ She stifled a giggle. ‘Well, maybe a spell in there would do Mr Clifford some good.’
Stella took her tea to the table and sat down. ‘I have a problem too, Rosa. My aunt is in a bad way. Mr Clifford doesn’t care what happens to her; in fact I think he wishes that she would just fade away and die. The poor old soul is left alone with no other company than a cat, and her mind is wandering.’
‘Then you must bring her here too.’ Rosa sat down next to her. ‘The one thing of which we have plenty is room. The house is poorly furnished and cold as charity, but we could see that the poor lady is cared for and not left alone.’
Stella glanced at Spike, who was stuffing bread and butter into his mouth as if he had not eaten for days, which she suspected might very well be the case. ‘You can’t take in all the waifs and strays, Rosa.’
‘Why not? What else am I to do? And what better use for this unhappy house than to fill it with people who need comfort and care?’
‘I have a little money saved,’ Stella said thoughtfully. ‘I’m a cook. Perhaps I could get work somewhere nearby. It would help to pay the bills, and Aunt Maud might remember more about my mother, given time.’
‘I’ll have to ask Kit.’ Rosa took a lump of sugar and dropped it into her teacup. ‘After all, it is his house, but I’m sure he’ll agree. He’s never here anyway so it won’t make much difference to him, and I won’t feel so lonely when he goes about his business. I’ll ask him the moment he comes through the door.’
Stella pulled a face. ‘Best wait until he’s had his supper.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I seem to remember that he has a longing for beef collops in a port wine sauce. If I smile at him nicely I might be able to persuade Cyril to let me have the meat at a cheap rate, and maybe there’s a bottle of port wine in the cellar that’s been overlooked.’
Rosa eyed her curiously. ‘Who is Cyril?’
‘Aunt Maud has a room above the butcher’s shop. Cyril spoke to me when I was drawing water from the pump. He told me that my mother had visited Aunt Maud last year, and he seemed very positive.’
‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’
‘It’s encouraging, but I’m not getting my hopes up too much. Anyway, getting back to the matter in hand, Cyril quite obviously has an eye for the girls and I’m not above using my charms when it’s for a good cause.’ Stella pursed her lips and winked, making Rosa double up with laughter.
‘You’re so good for me,’ she giggled. ‘I haven’t laughed for ages.’
‘And I feel happier than I have for a very long time. I feel that I’m getting closer to Ma and the nippers every day. Ronald knows something too, but I doubt if he’ll be much help.’
‘At least you’ve got something to go on, Stella. It’s better than nothing.’
‘Yes, it’s a start. But now let’s be practical. Do you mind if I take a look in the cellar?’
‘You’re welcome to try, but Kit and Uncle Silas went through the racks very thoroughly. I suppose they might have missed the odd bottle.’
‘Is the cellar locked? And is it very spidery? I’m not fond of creepy-crawlies.’
Rosa took a bunch of keys from her pocket and selected one. ‘Try this. I can’t promise there won’t be a few webs, but I never go down for the same reason. Good luck.’
Stella descended the steep stone steps with a candle clutched in her hand, hoping that it would not go out and leave her in total darkness. She tried not to scream when a spider’s web touched her face. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said out loud. ‘How can a tiny thing like that hurt a big person like you?’ Her voice echoed round the empty cellar, reverberating off the vaulted ceiling and returning to mock her. ‘Like you . . . like you . . .’ She reached the bottom with a sigh of relief and lifted the candle higher so that she stood in the circle of its flickering light. As Rosa had said, there were plenty of empty bottles but little else. She felt along the racks, wrinkling her nose when her fingers touched silky webs or dust-encrusted bottles. A scrabbling sound in one corner of the cellar made her turn with a start, but there was no ghostly presence and she told herself it was probably a mouse or a rat. She kept going, examining every nook and cranny.
She was almost back at the point where she had begun when her fingers closed around the neck of a bottle with its cork intact. She moved the candle closer and could have cried with relief when she read the label and realised that she had found what she was looking for. She snatched it up and was about to make for the stairs when something caught her eye. Etched deep into the wooden support of the shelving someone had carved their initials. The wood was rough and splintered as if the tip of a pair of scissors had been used rather than a knife. She traced them with her finger, hardly daring to breathe – JMB. She stood motionless with shock. It might be a coincidence but that could stand for Jacinta Maria Barry. Clifford had been Silas’s friend and he had mentioned her mother in the harshest of terms. Was it possible that she had somehow fallen into the clutches of these men?
She dropped the candle and was engulfed in darkness, but she managed to hold on to the bottle as she groped her way to the foot of the stairs. She was shaking from head to foot by the time she reached the kitchen. The warmth hit her forcibly after the cold and damp of the cellar.
Rosa’s smile faded and she hurried to her side. ‘Whatever’s the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’
Stella thrust the bottle into her hands. ‘I found a full bottle.’
‘Was it the spiders? Is that what scared you?’
Spike moved to her side. ‘I’ll go and kill them for you, miss. I ain’t afraid of spiders nor rats nor nothing.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s all right, Spike. There’s no need for you to worry.’
‘You saved me, miss. I’d do anything for you and the master.’
‘Kit will be very pleased to know he’s recognised as head of the house,’ Rosa said, chuckling. ‘But seriously, what was it down there? Have we got a ghost?’
‘You might say that, but it was no phantom.’ Stella clutched her hand. ‘I found the initials JMB scratched on one of the wine racks. My mother’s name is Jacinta Maria Barry. It simply can’t be a coincidence, Rosa. I think she was kept here against her will, and Ronald Clifford knows more than he’s admitting.’
‘I know you would like to believe you’ve found a clue as to her whereabouts,’ Rosa said gently. ‘But there must be hundreds of people in London with the same initials.’
‘I didn’t think my mother knew Ronald, but maybe she met him through Aunt Maud. He said some horrible things about Ma.’
‘But why would she be here? Uncle Silas was a confirmed bachelor.’
‘Maybe she contacted Ronald when she was turned out of our home. She must have been quite desperate, and would have done anything to keep a roof over their heads. Perhaps he introduced her to your uncle. It’s possible.’
Rosa frowned thoughtfully. ‘Uncle Silas did have a housekeeper, but I never met her. He wasn’t interested in me, but he had a fondness for my brother. Kit visited him here on several occasions with Mama. I know she was quite close to her brother, but I don’t think Papa liked him very much. He tolerated him for Mama’s sake, and Uncle Gervase patronised his business because I expect he got a better deal from Silas than from other wine merchants.’
Stella sighed. ‘If Ronald knows anything he’s not going to tell me now.’
‘Don
’t despair, my dear. Wait until Kit returns from the law courts. He must have met the housekeeper. He’ll be able to put your mind at rest.’
‘I can’t settle. I’ll go to the butcher’s and purchase the meat, and then I’ll set about cooking Kit a meal he’ll never forget.’ Stella picked up her bonnet and shawl. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Go with her, Spike,’ Rosa said firmly.
He leapt to his feet, wiping his mouth on his grimy sleeve. ‘I’ll take care of her, miss. No one will lay a finger on her when I’m around.’
‘Come along then.’ Stella glanced at his bare feet and frowned. ‘I saw a dolly shop on the corner. Perhaps we can find a pair of boots that will fit you.’ She opened the door and followed him into the passage. With so much expense her meagre savings would soon be gone, but the money would be put to a good cause. She would worry about her lack of finances another day.
The kitchen was redolent with the savoury aroma of port wine sauce. A pan of potatoes bubbled on the range and the beef was cooking slowly inside the oven. Rosa had abandoned her paper flowers but her nimble fingers were busy turning scraps of silk into a rose. Stella was standing at the range, stirring the sauce. She glanced at Spike and smiled to see him curled up on a rug by the fire, sleeping like a contented puppy. He had finished up the cake and drunk several cups of the milk that she had purchased from the dairy in Artillery Street. She had also checked on Maud and made sure that she had everything she needed to last until the next day, but she had refrained from mentioning a possible move to Fleur-de-Lis Street. If Kit refused his permission there was very little she could do about it, but she hoped that gentle persuasion and a good meal would make him more amenable.
Rosa looked up suddenly. ‘That sounded like a key in the lock. It must be Kit.’
Stella’s mouth was dry and her hand shook as she put the lid on the saucepan. She put her head on one side, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps and male voices. ‘He’s not alone. Who would be calling at this time in the evening?’
Chapter Nine
THE DOOR OPENED before Rosa had a chance to reply and Kit breezed into the room followed by a small man dressed from head to foot in black. Everything about him was dark, from the lank black hair that hung below his battered top hat to his beetling eyebrows and small goatee beard. His once white shirt points were grimy and a distinctive odour of camphor and peppermint hung about him in a miasma.
‘We have a guest for supper,’ Kit said grandly. ‘This gentleman is going to help Stella to trace her long-lost family.’ He pushed the man forward. ‘Mr Archangel Perry, private detective.’
Rosa stood up, dropping her work on the tabletop. She bobbed a curtsey. ‘How do you do, sir?’
‘Perry, this is my sister, Rosa, and the lady with the wooden spoon clutched in her hand is Miss Stella Barry. Your client.’
Stella curtsied. ‘How do you do, Mr Perry?’
‘Just Perry, miss. It saves a lot of breath. I don’t go by my first name, for obvious reasons. It causes much mirth in the public bar at my local hostelry, so Perry it is and ever will be.’
‘I must tell you that I am very short of funds,’ Stella said, casting a warning glance in Kit’s direction. ‘It’s very kind of Mr Rivenhall to think of me, but I can’t pay you.’
Perry dragged off his hat to reveal a bald pate surrounded by a fringe of greasy hair, which added a touch of comedy to his otherwise sinister appearance. ‘I owe him a favour or two, miss.’
‘Yes, we’ve done some work together,’ Kit said proudly. ‘I put Perry in touch with a law clerk who has sent an important investigation his way. I’ve been studying the case for several months, and we’re very near to bringing it to court.’
‘But, Kit, you’re not a qualified lawyer,’ Rosa protested. ‘You might get into trouble yourself.’
‘I know what I’m doing. If the clerk is satisfied with my progress he’s promised to recommend me for a position in the law firm, and then I can begin my training in earnest.’ Kit paused and sniffed. ‘What is that delicious aroma? Can it possibly be . . .’ He moved swiftly to the range and lifted the saucepan lid. ‘Port wine sauce. Stella, I think I love you.’
She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and it was not just the heat from the fire that was making her blush. ‘Beef collops,’ she said briskly. ‘You said it was your favourite meal.’
Perry bared his teeth in a grin. ‘The surest way to a man’s heart is a good meal. I’d watch my step if I were you, Kit. I’ll warrant there’s going to be a sting in the tail.’
‘Won’t you take a seat, Mr Perry?’ Rosa said, emphasising his title in a way that instantly put him in his place. ‘I’m afraid we eat in the kitchen these days for reasons of economy, but you are welcome to share our food.’
He shook his head. ‘No, ta. I thank you for the offer, miss. But I have a pressing appointment. Kit has primed me as to the suspect in this case and I’ll endeavour to squeeze the truth out of him. Imagine a lemon, miss,’ he added, addressing himself to Stella. ‘Squeeze it hard enough and the pips fly out in all directions. I intend to apply a similar method to the gent in question.’ He rammed his hat back on his head. ‘I’ll say good evening to all. You’ll be hearing from me.’ He walked backwards, bowing all the time until he bumped into the door jamb. He left them staring after him.
Spike jumped up from his rug, blinking sleepily at them. ‘Who was that? Was he after me?’
Stella laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘No, Spike. It was a man who is going to help me find my family. At least, I hope he is.’ She turned to Kit with eyebrows raised. ‘What did that strange fellow mean? Was he talking about Ronald?’
‘Best not to ask too many questions.’ Kit tapped the side of his nose. ‘Perry has his methods and they’re invariably successful. It’s best not to interfere.’
‘Well, I hope he squeezes Mr Clifford until his eyes pop out,’ Rosa said, tossing her head. ‘He’s cheated and swindled his way through the world and goodness knows what sort of hold he had over Uncle Silas.’
‘What’s all this?’ Kit took a seat at the table. ‘What are you saying, Rosa?’
‘I found something in the cellar when I was searching for a bottle of port,’ Stella said before Rosa had a chance to respond. ‘My mother’s initials are scratched on one of the wine racks.’
Kit stared at her, frowning. ‘What makes you so certain that they’re your mother’s initials?’
‘If they aren’t then it’s a huge coincidence, particularly as Ronald seems to have had some contact with her since I left home to go into service. Even by candlelight I could make out the letters JMB.’
‘And Uncle Silas did have a housekeeper,’ Rosa said eagerly. ‘You must have seen her, Kit. What did she look like?’
He scratched his head. ‘It was years ago. I didn’t pay much attention to servants in those days.’
‘But you must have noticed something,’ Stella insisted. ‘Was she tall or short? Dark or fair? Young or old? Fat or . . .’
‘Spare me. I get the idea.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘She was about the same height as you, but she was wearing a mobcap so I couldn’t tell you what colour hair she had, although I think she had dark eyes. I only saw her briefly and I really didn’t notice anything remarkable.’
‘We servants are a faceless breed.’ Stella could not quite keep the bitterness from her voice. She could still remember Lady Langhorne’s icy tones when she dismissed her, even though she had a blameless record of service and it was Tommy who had caused the trouble. ‘I doubt if you would have looked at me twice had I been in your employ at Heron Park.’
Spike nudged her elbow. ‘I’m hungry, miss. Do I get supper as well as what I’ve already ate today? If not I’ll go down the bottle and jug and get me gin. That’s if you’ll give us the money, miss?’
‘What?’ Stella stared at him in horror. ‘You want money for gin?’
‘It’s what old Clifford gives me every evening at bedtime, miss.
Gin and hot water makes me sleep like a baby.’ He winked and grinned. ‘Lord knows what he gets up to at night, but whatever it is he didn’t want me to find out.’
Kit leapt to his feet. ‘I knew that man was a villain the moment I clapped eyes on him. I hope Perry pulls no punches, so to speak.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘Not that I have any knowledge as to that gentleman’s tactics.’
‘There’ll be no more gin for you, my boy.’ Stella took Spike by the shoulders and guided him to the table. ‘You’ll get a proper meal like the rest of us.’
‘And you’ll sleep in a proper bed,’ Rosa added. ‘After supper I’ll take you upstairs and show you your room.’
‘Who said he’s to stay here?’ Kit demanded angrily. ‘I have no objection to Stella remaining here for as long as she pleases, but am I to take in every waif and stray?’
Stella glanced anxiously at Rosa, but she need not have worried. Rosa turned on her brother like a fury. ‘I suppose you’d throw the child out and let the wolves get him, would you? You know very well what happens out there and the horrors that homeless people have to endure. You see it in the courts and alleys and it’s here on our very own doorstep. Would you sentence the poor boy to a life of shame and degradation?’
Kit was visibly taken aback, and Stella hid a smile, imagining a lion being attacked by a kitten. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But be reasonable, Rosa. We can’t afford to feed ourselves properly, let alone a growing boy.’
Stella decided that it was time to serve the meal. Kit would be much more approachable when his belly was filled with good food. She placed a plateful of beef collops surrounded with port wine sauce and boiled potatoes on the table in front of him. ‘While we’re on the subject, Kit, I have a favour to ask as well.’
The next day Stella hired a carter to move Aunt Maud and Timmy to Fleur-de-Lis Street. Whether it had been the goodness of his heart or the persuasive effect of a tasty meal, Kit had eventually agreed to allow Maud Clifford to come and stay but only as a temporary measure. Spike and Rosa helped to carry Maud’s few possessions to the waiting cart, and Cyril volunteered his services too. In the end it was he who carried Maud down the two flights of stairs, cradling her in his arms as if she were a featherweight. Rosa hesitated when she saw the cat hissing and spitting inside a wicker basket hired for the morning to transport him safely. ‘I don’t think Kit will want an animal in the house,’ she murmured, eyeing Timmy as though he were a Bengal tiger about to spring. ‘He’ll have to be fed.’