by Dilly Court
He took off his top hat and gloves, acknowledging Irene with a nod of his head as he planted a perfunctory kiss on Emmie’s cheek. ‘Yes, I see her. Good morning, Irene.’
‘Hello, Josiah. I hope you don’t mind my calling to see Ma?’
‘Not at all. I consider it to be the duty of a daughter to show concern for an ageing parent.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the young man who had come in after him and was standing in the open doorway staring at Irene with an appreciative smile on his face.
‘Shut the door, Erasmus,’ Josiah said testily. ‘I can feel the draught cutting through me like a knife. After kneeling on the marble floor in that cold church I can feel a sore throat coming on already.’
Emily clutched his arm. ‘Perhaps you had best spend the rest of the day in bed, Josiah?’
‘Don’t fuss, my dear.’ He turned to his son. ‘Well, boy? Are you going to stand there like a dummy or are you coming in to greet your stepmother’s sister?’
With exaggeratedly slow movements, Erasmus divested himself of his top hat, gloves and muffler and tossed them onto the hall stand. ‘Coming, Father.’
‘I wasn’t fussing,’ Emily murmured.
‘Come here,’ Josiah said, scowling at his son. ‘Where are your manners, boy? What have you to say to Miss Irene?’
Erasmus swept a mocking bow. ‘Do I call you Irene or Step-aunt?’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Josiah thundered. ‘You are an oaf, Erasmus. An ill-mannered jackass. Your mother would turn in her grave if she could see what a sorry fellow you’ve turned out to be.’
‘A sorry fellow indeed,’ Erasmus said lightly. He took Irene’s hand and kissed it. ‘You know me, I think, Irene. I can never take anything seriously, especially when I am being lectured by my worthy father.’
‘Puppy!’ Josiah snorted. ‘I’ll be in my study until dinnertime.’ He moderated his tone. His dark eyes seemed to disappear into his cheeks as he turned to Irene with a ghost of a smile. ‘You will stay for luncheon? We eat at noon on Sundays.’
‘Thank you, but …’ A warning look from Emily made Irene hesitate. ‘Yes, thank you, Josiah.’
With a muffled grunt, Josiah strode off, disappearing into the depths of the ground floor.
Erasmus struck a pose. ‘There goes the worst-tempered man in London. Thank God I take after my sainted mother and not the old man.’
‘You shouldn’t tease him,’ Emily scolded. ‘You always get on his wrong side.’
‘The old fellow hasn’t got a good side as you’ll discover, Stepmother, when he stops being polite to you and shows his true colours.’
‘Don’t say things like that to Emmie,’ Irene said, frowning.
Emily tossed her head. ‘Oh, I don’t care. I take no notice of Erasmus; he’s just a silly boy.’
‘I’m five years older than you, dearest,’ Erasmus said, tweaking a stray curl that had escaped from the coils of Emily’s elaborate coiffure. ‘I’d say you’re wasted on the old goat, but then no one takes any notice of Erasmus Tippet, younger son and all that.’ He turned to Irene with a winning smile. ‘You and I are disadvantaged by our lack of seniority. My brother will inherit the business and you have been left to hold the fort, so to speak, while your father wastes his time on the gaming tables and your mother languishes in our magnificent but vulgar abode. Now I call that most unfair. What d’you think, Auntie?’
‘I think you have too much to say for yourself. My father is worth ten of you.’
‘I’m not staying here while you two bicker. I’m going to see if Ma wants anything.’ Emily swept into the parlour, leaving Irene alone in the hall with Erasmus.
He angled his head, his dark eyes teasing her. ‘Well, what shall we talk about now that my dear stepmother has left us?’
‘Talk to yourself,’ Irene said. ‘You seem to love yourself above all others. I hope you and yourself will be very happy together.’ She followed Emily into the morning room and closed the door, shutting him out.
Clara twisted round to give her a curious glance. ‘Who was that you were talking to, dear?’
‘It was Erasmus, Ma.’
‘That boy will be the death of me,’ Emily murmured. She slumped down on a brocaded chair by the fire and she tugged at the bell pull close by. ‘I need a cup of hot chocolate and a piece of Cook’s seed cake. Erasmus sends all my nerves into a jitter. He seems to enjoy aggravating my Josiah. One day he’ll go too far and Josiah will explode.’
Irene could not repress a smile. That was a sight she would love to see, but she would not dare say so in front of Emily.
‘It’s not funny,’ Emily scolded. ‘Ras should follow Ephraim’s example and show his father some respect. I do hope he will be on his best behaviour at the dinner table – I mean at luncheon. You know that in the best circles they have luncheon at midday, Renie, and dinner at night.’
‘And I suppose we must ape the gentry now that we’ve come up in the world.’
‘Don’t you dare say such things in front of my Josiah,’ Emily said, pouting. ‘He’s very conscious of his social position and we mustn’t let him down.’
Irene opened her mouth to argue but a warning glance from Ma made her change her mind. She was beginning to wish that she had refused the invitation to stay for the family meal. It would be excruciating as always. The mutton would be tough, the vegetables either under-cooked or burnt, and the suet pudding stodgy, but at least she would leave the house with a full belly.
Clara cleared her throat nervously. ‘Girls, please don’t start arguing. I can’t stand it and I’m very worried about your father. I think there’s something that you aren’t telling me.’ She turned to Irene. ‘Where is he, Renie? What’s been going on since I left home?’
Chapter Seven
THERE WAS NO fooling Ma. Irene had hoped she could keep Pa’s exploits a secret, but she had reckoned without her mother’s acute intuitive powers, and now she had no choice other than to tell her everything, with the exception of her own unwilling involvement with Inspector Kent. To admit that she was planning to become a copper’s nark would have been a step too far.
Clara listened and her pallor deepened to a sickly grey. ‘So he’s been gone for five days without a word?’
Irene exchanged worried glances with Emily and she nodded her head. ‘Yes, Ma, five days. I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Worrying about Billy comes naturally to me after all these years. I knew something was wrong the moment you walked through the door.’
Irene slid off the sofa to kneel at her mother’s feet. She clasped Ma’s hands and was startled to find them cold and clawed like the feet of a dead chicken. She chafed them vigorously, attempting to impart some of her youth and vitality into her mother’s fragile body. ‘Try not to worry too much. He’s been missing for much longer in the past. I’m sure he’ll turn up soon.’
‘Yes,’ Emily said earnestly. ‘He’s probably on a winning streak. He’ll come home with a pocket full of money.’
‘After five days?’ Clara shook her head. ‘It’s more likely that he’ll have blown the lot.’
Irene rose to her feet. ‘Perhaps I’d better go home and see if he’s there.’
‘No, don’t go,’ Clara said, making an obvious effort to control her agitation. ‘You’re all skin and bone, Renie. Please stay and share a meal with us.’
‘I am a bit hungry,’ Irene admitted. ‘Anyway, we mustn’t worry Emmie in her condition. Let’s talk about something pleasant.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Clara agreed. ‘We must think about Emmie and my grandchild.’
Reluctantly, Irene returned to her seat and sat in silence while her mother and Emily chattered about things related to babies. Somehow Irene could not summon up much interest in an unborn child, and despite her attempts to sound positive she could not forget Yapp’s threat to put them out of business. Then there was Inspector Kent who was expecting her to bring him information that Arthur did not have, but most important of all t
here was Pa, who might be dead in a Yorkshire ditch for all she knew. She was startled out of her own personal nightmare by Jessie barging into the room and announcing that dinner was on the table, and Cook said they’d best sit down quick before it got cold. Emily scolded her for her lack of decorum, but Clara murmured excuses, declaring that the poor child was so recently released from the workhouse that they must not expect too much of her, and Emily must have more patience.
With a petulant scowl marring her pretty features, Emily raised herself from her chair and flounced across the hall to the wainscoted dining room. Ephraim and Josiah were already seated at the table with their napkins tucked into their collars.
‘We’ve been waiting for five minutes at least,’ Josiah said, taking a half-hunter watch from his pocket and staring pointedly at its face. ‘When you ladies get talking there’s no stopping you, but Emily knows that I demand punctuality at mealtimes.’
‘Yes, Josiah, dear,’ Emily said sweetly. ‘So where is Erasmus?’ She took her seat at the opposite end of the dining table with Clara seated on her left, leaving Irene no choice other than to sit next to Ephraim.
‘We won’t wait for him,’ Josiah said, rising to tug at the bell pull. ‘If he cannot come to the table at the correct time then he will have to go without.’
Ephraim nodded his head. ‘You’re quite right, Father. Ras needs taking down a peg or two. He’s too cocky by half.’
‘He takes after his mother,’ Josiah said sententiously. ‘She was a flighty, empty-headed chit of a girl when I married her.’
‘She is dead, Josiah.’ Emily snatched a bread roll from a basket in front of her and she tore it in half, frowning. ‘I don’t think your late wife is a fit subject of conversation for the dinner table.’
Josiah had the grace to look embarrassed and he managed a sheepish smile. ‘You are quite right, my dear, and I’m sorry. But I’ve told you before, it’s luncheon at midday, not dinner.’
There was an awkward silence, but at that moment Jessie staggered into the room bearing a large soup tureen. Josiah beckoned to her and helped himself to a generous portion, licking his lips as if in anticipation of a great feast. Irene raised her eyebrows; she didn’t know much about manners, but Pa had always taught her that it was ladies first. She glanced at Emily who, despite having consumed a cup of hot chocolate and a large slice of cake less than half an hour ago, was now stuffing bread and butter into her mouth as if she had not eaten for a week. Clara sat silently, staring down at her plate and twisting her table napkin between nervous fingers. Irene sighed inwardly. The soup smelt greasy, and as Ephraim ladled it into his bowl she could see globules of fat floating on its grey, glutinous surface. Her empty stomach heaved, but she was too hungry to refuse when Jessie thrust the tureen under her nose.
Irene was no cook, but when the next course was presented and Josiah was hacking at a leg of mutton surrounded by root vegetables, she could only guess that the revolting soup had been the broth in which the meat had been boiled, to which very little in the way of seasoning or flavouring had been added. As she had anticipated, the mutton was tough and stringy and the vegetables were overcooked so that they were an undistinguishable mush on her plate. Neither Josiah nor Ephraim seemed to find any fault with their meal and they gobbled their food with apparent relish. Emmie also ate ravenously, gulping down mouthfuls of meat and potatoes as if this was her last meal on earth. Clara merely toyed with her food, apologising to Josiah for her lack of appetite. He waved his fork at her with a carrot wedged in its tines. ‘No wonder you’re pale and sickly, Mother-in-law. You must eat or you will never be strong enough to go home.’
Ephraim muttered something beneath his breath and washed his meal down with a draught of porter. Irene sipped a glass of water and pushed her plate away. She had eaten as much as she could force down; if she took another mouthful she was certain she would disgrace herself by being sick. Josiah frowned ominously, and seemed about to comment on her lack of appetite, but was forestalled by the timely entrance of his youngest son.
‘Oh, dear,’ Erasmus said, chuckling. ‘It seems I’ve missed one of Cook’s bloody awful Sunday dinners. What a crying shame.’
Josiah wiped the gravy off his plate with a hunk of bread. ‘Mrs Peabody is a fine cook. I won’t have you saying otherwise, Erasmus. And don’t assume you can join us for pudding, because I won’t have it. You either turn up on time for meals or you go without.’
‘Then it’s just as well that I took myself off to Ned’s chophouse in Finch Lane, where I had an excellent meal,’ Erasmus said, eyeing the food left on Irene’s plate and winking at her. ‘You should have come with me, Miss Irene. I would have enjoyed your company and you would have made a decent meal, instead of putting up with Cook’s slop.’
Josiah tore his napkin from his neck and rose to his feet. ‘Leave the room at once, boy. I won’t have you parading your bad manners in front of guests.’
Erasmus leaned against the door jamb and stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘Come now, Father, Miss Angel is family. The poor girl is one of us by marriage, God help her.’
‘That’s no way to speak to our father,’ Ephraim said stiffly. ‘You should apologise, Ras.’
‘I speak only the truth, and I won’t apologise for that. Anyway, I’ll leave you to enjoy one of Mrs Peabody’s leaden puddings.’ Erasmus turned to Emily, who was staring at him open-mouthed. ‘Eat well, Stepmother. You have to think of the child: yet another half-brother to add to Father’s collection. I always think that we are like hunting trophies. In fact, I shouldn’t be at all surprised to come home one day and find Ephraim’s head mounted on a shield, glaring down at me from the wall.’
‘Erasmus!’ Josiah thundered. ‘You will apologise to your stepmother for such rudeness, and then leave the room.’
Burying her face in her table napkin, Emily burst into tears, and Clara rose from the table to go to her. ‘That was uncalled for, Erasmus,’ she said, wrapping her arms around Emily’s shaking shoulders. ‘You are a bad boy.’
Before Erasmus had a chance to respond, Irene had risen from her seat and she made her way swiftly round the table to face him. ‘Outside! Now.’
He stared at her in surprise and his dark eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Why, Miss Irene, what could you want with the likes of me?’
She gave him a push that caught him off balance and sent him staggering out into the hallway. She followed him, closing the door on the outraged occupants of the dining room. ‘I suppose you think you are very clever, but you are not. You’ve upset my sister and Ma, and I won’t have it. D’you hear me, Erasmus?’
His smile returned and he shook his head. ‘Ras, please. I hate the stupid name Erasmus.’
‘A stupid name for a stupid boy,’ Irene cried hotly. ‘All right, the food is terrible and your brother is a pompous idiot, but that doesn’t give you the right to embarrass the rest of us.’
‘Er, you’ve left my father out,’ Erasmus said, angling his head with a quizzical smile. ‘How would you label him?’
‘You don’t want to know, and I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of telling you.’
‘I think I can guess, and it wouldn’t be flattering.’
‘What I think of Josiah is unimportant,’ Irene countered angrily. ‘You’ve upset Emmie and made Ma feel uncomfortable. I can’t forgive that.’
His smile faded and a look of genuine concern flickered across his handsome features. ‘For that I do apologise. Emmie’s all right, and it’s not her fault that the guvner is a bastard.’ He held his hands out, palms uppermost. ‘Pardon my language, but he drives me mad. I can’t believe that I’m his son.’
Irene felt her anger dissipating into something like sympathy. She laid her hand on his arm. ‘Even so, you shouldn’t take it out on Emmie. It’s not fair.’
‘No,’ he conceded. ‘But I find it hard to believe that she has genuine feelings for the old goat, or that she didn’t marry him just to get away from the pickle shop.’<
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He looked so much like an angry little boy that it made Irene smile. ‘Wouldn’t you, in similar circumstances?’
He threw his head back and roared with laughter. ‘I like you, Step-aunt.’
‘Well then, if we’re to get along I think you should come back into the dining room and apologise to Emmie and your dad.’
‘No! Not that!’ Erasmus pulled a face. ‘I never apologise for anything.’
Irene took him by the arm. ‘Then it’s time you did.’ She attempted to drag him across the hall, but he was a good head and shoulders taller than she, and sturdily built. It was, she thought, like trying to uproot an oak tree. She was rapidly losing patience when the doorbell jangled, echoing deep in the bowels of the house, and Jessie appeared as if from nowhere, wiping gravy from her chin on a corner of her apron. She shot them a curious look as she hurried to answer the impatient caller who was now rapping on the doorknocker.
‘Hold on,’ she cried. ‘I’m coming as fast as me legs will carry me.’ She wrenched the door open and was thrust aside by Billy, who breezed into the house as if he had not a care in the world.
‘Irene, my little star, I guessed that you would be here.’ He swept her off her feet in a fond hug that almost took her breath away.
She struggled free. ‘Pa! I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you come home sooner?’
He took off his curly-brimmed bowler hat, which Irene noticed immediately was brand new, as was his suit of clothes in a smart brown and white check. His smile was at once apologetic and disarming. ‘My little pickle, what a thoughtless brute I am, but as you see I have come home now with a pocketful of winnings and now everything will be all right.’
‘Good for you, sir,’ Erasmus said enthusiastically. ‘I’m not a gambling man myself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a flutter every now and again.’