Cinderella Sister
Page 21
‘I have not, my boy, and it’s for that reason that we must protect Lily’s good name.’ Everard swung his opera cloak around his shoulders with a flourish before following Charlotte out into the snowy night.
‘Are you all right, Lily?’ Gabriel eyed her anxiously. ‘I’ll stay for supper and then I must be on my way.’
She came back to earth with a start. For a moment she had been swept up in her mother’s self-centred world of extravagance and hedonism, but now reality was closing in on her and she was forced to face the truth. She had been banished from home and family, and it was obvious that she mattered less to her mother than the pursuit of pleasure. She realised slowly and painfully that the reunion which she had dreamed of and longed for since childhood meant nothing to the one person who should have loved and cherished her. She was unwanted and unloved. Gabriel was waiting for an answer and she made a valiant effort to sound normal. ‘I’m fine, thank you, just a little tired.’
‘And wet through judging by the state of your boots and skirt,’ Prissy said severely. ‘You’ll catch your death, miss.’
Lily turned to find the girl watching her with a concerned frown puckering her smooth brow. ‘I’ve nothing to change into,’ she said slowly as the magnitude of her position threatened to crush her. ‘I came away with nothing.’
‘D’you know, that’s just like how I was.’ Prissy put her arm around Lily’s shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘When me dad threw me out on the street ’cos I ate too much and weren’t bringing in any money, I was quite at a loss. Our old cow had died, you see, and the hens was took by the fox. Then the harvest failed due to the rain and we was all facing starvation. I knows just how you feels, ducks.’
‘Then perhaps you’d like to get a room ready for Miss Lily,’ Gabriel said gently. ‘And if Cook could make us some supper.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ Lily murmured, trying hard not to break down and cry in front of Gabriel who had been so kind and patient all day. ‘Perhaps you’d better do as your pa said and go home.’
‘I’ll look after her, sir,’ Prissy said firmly. ‘There’s a fire in Mr Everard’s study. He goes there to smoke a cigar or two after dinner, and have a few nips of brandy in peace and quiet without the missis nagging him.’ She clapped her hand over her mouth, eyeing Gabriel warily. ‘I shouldn’t have let the cat out of the bag.’
He patted her on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Prissy. I’m used to my father’s little ways and I won’t say a word.’
‘Thank you, sir. You’re a toff.’ Prissy hurried to open the door. ‘Shall I go out and call a cab, sir?’
‘Certainly not, or you’ll be the one to catch your death of cold. It’s not snowing now and the walk will do me good.’ Gabriel leaned over to kiss Lily lightly on the cheek. ‘I’ll leave you in good hands, my dear, and I’ll come round first thing in the morning. We’ll sort things out between us, never fear.’
‘Thank you.’ Lily almost choked on the words. She watched him leave the house with a feeling close to relief. At this moment all she wanted was to curl up in a warm place and go to sleep. Maybe in the morning she would find herself back in her own bed with Molly’s feet on the pillow beside her as they slept top to toe. The two rooms in Cock Hill were slums when compared to this grand house, but they were home. She wondered if she would ever be welcome there again.
Prissy closed the front door. ‘Now, miss, come with me. I’ll settle you down by the fire and what you need is a hot, sweet cup of tea and a bite to eat. While you’re having your supper I’ll light a fire in the guest room and find you one of your ma’s nightgowns. Heaven knows, she’s got more clothes than the Queen herself. You won’t go without nothing in this house. I can promise you that.’
Lily found herself in a comfortable room lined with bookshelves. A fire burned brightly in the grate and a wingback chair was strategically placed so that the occupant could rest his feet on the brass fender. A mahogany desk was set beneath the window, but its tooled leather top was unencumbered by papers or anything to suggest that the master of the house did any serious work here. Heavy velvet curtains in a deep shade of russet kept out the cold and dark, and the scent of Havana cigars and brandy hung like a faint memory in the air. As she waited for Prissy to return Lily had time to look around. She was fascinated by the rows of books that seemed to have been chosen more for their matched leather bindings than as random purchases bought for their literary contents. She found herself thinking that Nell would love to be ensconced in a room like this with time on her own to immerse herself in all this book learning. Sighing, Lily sat down to wait for Prissy to bring her supper. She felt as though she had stepped into a dream, arriving in a world that was far removed from her own. She took a seat by the fire and sat warming her toes, watching the steam rise from her damp skirt and petticoats.
The door opened and she looked up, startled out of her reverie by the arrival of Prissy carrying a heavily laden tray.
‘There’s tea and bread and butter and a slice of steak pie. Cook says it’s not what she would have served to the master and mistress, but as they’re dining out she thought as how you might like to share what we have for our supper.’
‘Thank you, I’m sure it looks very nice but I’m not really hungry.’ Lily’s appetite had deserted her and the thought of food was nauseating, but she could tell by the stubborn set of Prissy’s jaw that she was not going to give in easily.
‘You must eat, miss. You’re all skin and bone as it is and you’ll fade away if you don’t get some vittles inside you.’ She stood with her arms folded across her chest until Lily picked up a fork and nibbled at a piece of pie. She managed to eat a little but her throat felt swollen and it was difficult to swallow. The steak pie was delicious and it reminded her of the ones that Aggie used to make for the family. The memory of meals around the kitchen table in the dockmaster’s house brought tears to her eyes and created a painful ache in her heart.
‘That’s better,’ Prissy said. ‘I’ll leave you to finish your meal while I go upstairs and make the room ready for you. I expect to see a clean plate when I come back.’
When she returned some time later, she scolded Lily for her lack of appetite, but when she had satisfied herself that her charge could not eat another morsel she hustled Lily out of the study and up three flights of stairs to a room on the third floor, which she assured her was the best guest room. ‘There are more,’ she said proudly, ‘but I give you the biggest and most comfortable. I think the chimney needs sweeping in the blue room and the one at the back looks out onto the mews with all them cheeky stable boys waving and pulling faces every time a girl looks out of the window, and there are damp patches on the wall around the windows. I told the master but he said I shouldn’t worry my head about such things.’
‘Thank you, Prissy,’ Lily said tiredly. ‘I’m sure this is a lovely room and will suit me very well.’
Prissy bustled over to the fireplace and added a few more lumps of coal to the blaze. ‘I’ve run the warming pan between the sheets. They’re clean ones from the linen cupboard. The missis is very particular about bedding and you won’t find no bed bugs or fleas in this house. Lord, I can remember a time when me and me brothers and sisters was nippers and our beds were alive with the little devils.’
Tiredness was sweeping over Lily in a hazy wash so that Prissy’s voice seemed far away and her surroundings were a blur. All she wanted to do now was to crawl into bed and escape into a deep sleep. She must have yawned without realising it, as Prissy became suddenly businesslike. She helped her to undress, clucking and clicking her tongue against her teeth at the state of Lily’s much-darned petticoats and stays with whalebones showing through their casings. ‘Lord love us, miss. I got better duds than you and that’s saying something. Are you very poor, miss? It don’t seem right that your ma has all this and you go around like a ragbag.’
Lily was too exhausted to put Prissy in her place. ‘I’m very tired. I think I’ll go straight to bed.’
It was like being a child all over again but Lily had not the energy to argue. The lace-trimmed gown with voluminous sleeves and high neck was soft and warm, and obeying Prissy’s instructions Lily perched on the edge of the bed while her boots and stockings were removed. Prissy dropped them on the floor with an expression of distaste. ‘They can go in the dustbin,’ she said severely. ‘I’ll go through the mistress’s things as soon as you’re settled in your bed. She has shoes by the dozen and drawers bursting with undergarments and silk stockings, as if she had as many legs and feet as a spider.’ She chafed Lily’s cold feet. ‘You could do with a mustard bath for them tootsies. That’s what Ma used to do for us when we was chilled to the marrow.’
‘Do you miss your family, Prissy?’
‘Sometimes, miss. But mostly I’m too busy and I know I’m bettering meself by living in a big house with three good meals a day and two new frocks a year. Add to that the money I save and send home and I think I’m doing pretty well.’
‘You’re a good girl, Prissy,’ Lily murmured as she lay down on the bed, sinking into the softness of the feather mattress.
Prissy pulled the covers up to Lily’s chin with a cheerful smile. ‘There, look at you now, all cosy and warm. Goodnight, miss, sweet repose. Lie on your back and you won’t hurt your nose. That’s what Ma used to say to us when she tucked us in.’
‘Your mother sounds lovely,’ Lily said sleepily.
‘She’s an angel now. Up in heaven with the good Lord and St Peter and all that lot. She took sick and died two year ago come Lammas. We was sad at the time but we knew she wouldn’t get beat no more. Me dad has a foul temper when he’s a bit swipey, but then most men are like that so it seems, except for Mr Everard. Now there’s a lovely gent if ever there was one.’ So saying, Prissy blew out the candle on the washstand and crept out of the room.
Lily stared into the fire, watching the flames lick up the chimney. The sudden silence after Prissy’s departure was all-encompassing. In the street below the sound of horses’ hooves and the rumble of wheels was dulled by the hard-packed snow, and the bed was warm. All her life Lily had shared a room with her sisters and sleeping on her own was a new experience. Thoughts of her family and Matt’s furious rejection were uppermost in her mind. She did not think she would ever sleep again. She closed her eyes.
It was still dark when the sound of someone raking the cinders in the grate awakened Lily. She snapped into a sitting position thinking that Nell was cleaning out the ashes and it should have been her turn to do so.
‘Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to wake you.’
As Lily’s eyes grew accustomed to the dim light of the street lamp filtering through the window she saw Prissy kneeling in front of the hearth. ‘What time is it?’
‘Six o’clock, miss. I done all the other fires and left yours till last but one. I never go into the master’s room until later. The mistress likes to lie abed all morning unless she’s got an appointment elsewhere and she don’t like to be disturbed by my noise.’
‘I see.’ Lily shivered and pulled the coverlet up to her chin. ‘Are my clothes dry yet?’
‘Your duds is in the dustbin; Mistress’s orders when she come in last night. Very merry she was too, and the master. I think they had a good time judging by the noise they made going up to bed. I wonder they didn’t wake you.’
Lily did not want to hear the details of her mother’s private life. She changed the subject hastily. ‘What am I to wear then, Prissy? I can’t go about in the nightgown all day.’
Prissy’s merry laughter echoed round the room. ‘Oh Lor’, you are a one, miss.’
‘Yes, maybe, but I do need something to wear. If all else fails you must get my clothes out of the dustbin.’
Prissy turned her attention to the fire, leaning forward and puffing out her cheeks as she blew on the kindling. ‘Leave it to me, miss,’ she said in between breaths. ‘I’ll just get the fire going and then I’ll fetch you a nice cup of tea. You can’t get dressed until the room warms up anyway.’ She scrambled to her feet, picking up the bucket filled with ashes. ‘I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’
* * *
Half an hour later, Lily was sitting in bed propped up on a pile of pillows while she ate her breakfast off a tray. Cook had provided two boiled eggs, a silver rack filled with triangles of toast and cut glass dishes filled with butter, strawberry preserve and orange marmalade. A separate tray with a pot of coffee and another filled with hot chocolate was set on the washstand. Unused to such luxury and finding that her appetite had returned, Lily tucked into her meal while Prissy sat in the chair by the fire sewing furiously. The silver needle seemed to fly as she stitched away at a gown belonging to Charlotte that had been discarded as being outmoded, but to Lily looked the height of elegance.
‘Are you certain that Ma doesn’t mind me having it?’ Lily ventured, swallowing the last morsel of toast and jam. ‘There looks to be years of wear left in that gown.’
Prissy snipped the thread with a satisfied smile. She held up the garment for Lily to see. ‘That ain’t half bad even if I say so meself. I was used to making clothes for the family so doing a few tucks ain’t nothing to me.’
‘You’re very clever,’ Lily acknowledged. ‘I was never very good with a needle, whereas my sister Nell can darn so that you can hardly tell the difference and Molly is good at trimming bonnets. The only thing I’m passably good at is drawing.’
‘Then you’re an artist like your ma,’ Prissy said with a wise nod of her head. ‘I could tell you was an artist by the shape of your hands. I may not be educated like you but I got an eye for things.’
Lily put the tray aside, wiping her lips on the linen table napkin. ‘I’d best get up then if the dress is ready. I’m not used to idling about in bed.’
Prissy rose from the chair and laid the dress out on the foot of the bed. ‘Well, miss, there’s nothing doing in this house until midday at least. The master might get up earlier but the missis sometimes don’t rise until mid-afternoon. It all depends on how much they’ve drunk or if they’ve been at the laudanum or that other stuff – chloral or whatever it’s called.’
‘What are you saying, Prissy?’
‘Nothing, miss. Maybe I was mistaken. Cook says that all them artistic types drink too much and take drugs, but I can see you don’t know nothing about it and I should learn to keep me mouth shut. Talking too much is me big failing, so Cook says. I’m sorry, miss.’
Lily swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘I must get dressed now, Prissy. I have things to do and I must speak to my mother as soon as she is up and about. You will tell me when she wakes, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will. I’ll see that you’re all right, miss. You can trust me.’
Lily fingered the cotton lawn chemise that Prissy had selected for her and a pair of stays that looked brand new. She found it almost impossible to believe than anyone could possess such fine garments and not wear them. Prissy laced the stays, tugging hard and exclaiming with pride at the smallness of Lily’s waist.
‘Them fine ladies will be green with envy when they see you,’ she said triumphantly. ‘A hand’s span, that’s what you got, miss. I shall have to take the other gowns in several inches if they’re to fit.’
‘No, I can’t take any more of my mother’s clothes,’ Lily said firmly. ‘This gown is far too fine for me but I must wear something, and as my old clothes are thrown out I’ve little choice.’ She gazed into the pier glass as Prissy endeavoured to fasten the tiny buttons down the back of the pale green silk gown. The sight that met her eyes was astounding and at first she thought she was looking at a stranger.
Prissy looked over her shoulder and grinned. ‘It’s true, miss. Fine feathers make fine birds as my mum use
d to say. You look every inch a lady and that colour don’t half suit you. Mrs Stone, the mistress’s dressmaker, calls it reseda. It’s all the rage, so she said, and it matches your eyes a treat.’
Lily gulped and swallowed hard. That creature was not her. She was masquerading as a young lady when it was far from the truth. Molly would enjoy such a farce but she felt uncomfortable and desperately out of place. Her discomfiture seemed to have bypassed Prissy who was bursting with pride, as if she had created a princess out of a common street girl.
‘Now all I got to do is find you a pair of shoes that fit and you’re fit to be presented to the Queen,’ Prissy said proudly. ‘I’ll show you downstairs to the morning parlour, miss. That’s what Cook told me that young ladies do. They sit in the parlour and wait for callers, although I don’t suppose anyone knows you’re here apart from Mr Gabriel. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be round soon and then you can plan your day. I feel quite excited for you.’
‘Thank you, Prissy.’ Lily could think of nothing else to say.
The feeling of unreality persisted and continued even as she perched on the edge of a chair by the fire in the morning parlour. She felt ill at ease, as if waiting for something cataclysmic to happen although she knew not what it might be. She kept looking at the ormolu clock which was part of an ornate garniture on the mantelshelf, but the hands seemed to be stuck at half past nine. Nell would be teaching her pupils and Molly was probably up to her elbows in dye at the workshop. Matt, Mark and Luke would be asleep, having been on duty all night, and Aggie would be setting off to market, leaving Grandpa ensconced in his chair and gazing out at the street scene below. They all had their lives, but hers had been snatched from her by a cruel twist of fate. She wriggled her toes, hoping that Prissy would find a pair of stout boots so that she could walk round to Gabriel’s lodging house. She could think of no one else who might be able to help her out of her present dilemma. One thing about which she was certain was that she could not remain in Keppel Street. Ma’s lifestyle was not one into which she fitted with ease. Everard was a kind man but she could not expect him to support her as he might a daughter. She must find a way in which to earn her own living. It was not going to be easy.