by Dilly Court
Bennett came to a halt, staring at the vicarage as if committing every brick and tile to memory. ‘Then I’ll say goodbye for now. Will you explain my absence to your aunt, and ask her to accept my apologies?’
‘I will, but I know she’ll be overjoyed to think that there is hope.’ Rose held out her hand. ‘Thank you from the bottom of my heart.’
Bennett raised it to his lips. ‘I promise you I will do my utmost for Billy.’
‘Are you leaving us, Mr Sharpe?’ Cora caught up with them, holding her side and panting. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘I’m afraid not, Miss Cora. Rose will explain everything, but I hope to see you when I return to London.’
‘When will that be?’ Rose asked anxiously. ‘Please don’t leave us in suspense.’
‘I don’t know. Everything depends on what I discover when I return to Portmorna.’
A shiver ran down Rose’s spine. ‘Billy was staying at Portmorna House.’
Bennett slipped his hand into his breast pocket and took out a deckle-edged calling card. ‘This is the address of my chambers in Lincoln’s Inn. If you need help they will put you in touch with Scully.’
Rose took the card from his outstretched hand, and it was still warm from his touch. She tucked it into her reticule. ‘I’d like to see Billy. He’s so far from home and I can’t imagine what he must be feeling.’ She slipped her arm around Cora, who had begun to sob. ‘Don’t cry. Mr Sharpe is doing everything he can for Billy.’
‘I promise you that I’ll do my utmost to bring this sorry situation to a satisfactory end.’ Bennett backed away. ‘I have to leave you now, but next time we meet I hope it will be under happier circumstances.’
‘Thank you.’ Rose stood very still, watching Bennett until he was out of sight. A chill wind whipped her hair from beneath her bonnet and a feeling of exhaustion threatened to overcome her. They were alone again, with nothing to sustain them other than hope.
‘Let’s get you indoors, Cora. You’ll feel better in the morning.’
‘It’s too hard,’ Cora sobbed. ‘I felt better when Mr Sharpe was here, but now he’s gone it’s just the same as it was before.’
‘Not quite,’ Rose said gently. ‘We know he’s on our side, and I trust him.’ She was about to open the gate that led to the tradesmen’s entrance when the clattering of a horse’s hoofs and the rumble of wheels echoed down the quiet street. She hurried Cora into the garden and waited for the vehicle to pass, but it slowed to a halt at the kerb. She peeped out from behind a laurel bush and her breath hitched in her throat.
‘It’s Dr Grantley, Cora, and he’s calling here. Something awful must have happened. Go inside, quickly.’
Chapter Five
The kitchen was deserted, but the kettle singing on the range was a sure sign that Mrs Blunt had not retired for the night. Rose helped Cora to a chair. ‘Sit down and dry your eyes. I’ll go and find out what’s happening.’
‘It must be Mama.’ Cora raised a tear-stained face. ‘We shouldn’t have left her.’
‘I’ll find out. Stay there and try to keep calm.’
Rose discarded her bonnet and shawl as she hurried from the room, making her way to the entrance hall where Dr Grantley and her father were deep in conversation. The sound of their deep tones echoed through the otherwise silent house.
‘What’s wrong, Papa?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Has Mama been taken worse?’
Seymour’s thin features were sharply outlined by the shadows cast by the flickering gaslights, and his face was ashen. ‘I’m afraid so. Mrs Blunt is with her now.’
‘I’ll go up, shall I, Vicar?’ Dr Grantley moved to the foot of the stairs without waiting for a response. ‘I know the way.’ He lumbered up the staircase and the treads creaked beneath his considerable weight.
‘Why are you home so late, Rose?’ Seymour demanded angrily. ‘I’ll have words with Polly for keeping you girls out until all hours. She will have to hire more help if she cannot run her establishment without you and Cora.’
‘It wasn’t Aunt Polly’s fault, Pa. We lost track of the time.’
‘Well, it isn’t good enough. I don’t want my daughters roaming the city streets late at night.’
‘I’m truly sorry that you were worried, Pa.’ Rose could see that her father was upset and unlikely to be mollified by excuses. ‘Shall I go upstairs with the doctor? I’ll ask Mrs Blunt to make you a cup of tea or a tisane to calm your nerves.’
He seemed to shrink before her startled gaze, and his shoulders stooped as if burdened by an unbearably heavy weight. He dashed his hand across his eyes. ‘Yes, Rose, that would be for the best. I think I might go to my study and rest for a while.’
The temptation to put her arms around him and give him a hug was almost irresistible, but Rose knew that her father was not the sort of man who welcomed personal contact. Even as a child she could not remember any outward demonstrations of affection on his part. As far as she was concerned, Papa had always been a slightly aloof figure of authority. Billy had always been his favourite, and no matter how hard Rose tried to please her father it had never seemed to be enough, but it was a shock to see him bowed and bent like a gnarled tree battered by a gale. She made a move to follow the doctor. ‘I’ll take care of Mama, and I’ll send Mrs Blunt to you.’
‘Where is Cora?’ Seymour demanded anxiously.
‘She’s in the kitchen, Pa.’
‘You must take care of her, Rose. She’s delicate, like your mother, and I worry about her health. Going out in the night air isn’t good for anyone with a weak constitution.’
‘Cora is perfectly well, Papa. I wouldn’t allow her to do anything that might compromise her wellbeing.’ Rose waited until her father went into his study before continuing upstairs to her parents’ bedroom.
Mrs Blunt was standing by the bed with a doleful expression on her face. She gave Rose a reproachful look. ‘Your ma was taken ill an hour or more ago. She was calling for you.’
Rose approached the bed, keeping a respectful distance from the doctor, who was using a stethoscope to examine his patient. Eleanor lay amongst the pillows like a broken flower, her long hair spreading out around her head in a halo of pale gold. Seeming to sense her daughter’s presence, she opened her eyes and her bloodless lips curved in a hint of a smile. ‘Rose,’ she whispered. ‘Where were you?’
‘No talking, please, Mrs Perkins.’ Dr Grantley shot a warning glance at Rose before continuing his examination.
‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ Rose said softly. ‘I was delayed, but I’m here now.’ She turned to Mrs Blunt. ‘My father looks very tired. I’m sure a cup of tea would revive him, or one of your excellent camomile tisanes.’
‘Yes, of course, Miss Rose.’ Despite her meek response Mrs Blunt managed to convey her reluctance with a twitch of her shoulders and a loud sniff as she left the room, but Rose was too concerned with her mother’s health to worry overmuch about offending their housekeeper’s sensibilities.
Dr Grantley folded the stethoscope and replaced it in his medical bag. ‘Your mother needs rest and quiet, Rose.’ He leaned over the bed, fixing Eleanor with a stern gaze. ‘I’ll give you some laudanum, which will help you to sleep, Mrs Perkins, and I’ll call again in the morning.’
He took a small glass bottle from his bag and handed it to Rose. ‘One or two drops diluted in water will ease the pain.’ He snapped the lock shut and headed for the door, beckoning Rose to follow him. ‘Your mother is very unwell. She has a delicate constitution and I’m afraid that the polluted air in the city has taken its toll on her health.’
‘What can we do to make her better, Doctor?’
‘I would advise good food, country air and above all rest, but I fear that is out of the question.’ He stroked his beard, frowning. ‘Unless, of course, you have relatives who dwell in the countryside, or a family friend who lives out of town and would care for Mrs Perkins during her convalescence?’
‘I don’t think so, Dr Grantley. M
y grandparents died several years ago and Mama has only one sister, but she lives in Old Street.’
A grim smile curved Dr Grantley’s thin lips. ‘Ah, yes. I know Miss Day very well. A good woman, despite her colourful past. I attend her establishment on a fairly regular basis.’
‘And Papa was an only child. As far as I am aware, he has no living relatives.’
‘What about William? I believe he is at Oxford; would it be possible for your mother to stay with him for a few weeks?’
Rose hesitated, caught unawares by the mention of Billy’s name. ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question. My brother is staying with friends in Cornwall until the beginning of the next term. He has rooms in college.’
Dr Grantley shook his head. ‘A great pity. However, I will come again tomorrow. We can only do so much and the rest is in God’s hands.’
Rose returned to the bedside and measured out two drops of laudanum into a glass, topping it up with water. She helped her mother to a semi-recumbent position and held the glass to her lips. Eleanor drank thirstily and fell back on the pillows, exhausted by the effort.
‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance to you all,’ she murmured.
Rose replaced the glass. ‘Don’t talk like that, Mama. You know that’s not true. We’d do anything to make you better, anything at all.’
‘I feel so useless,’ Eleanor whispered. ‘I spend more time confined to my bed than I do looking after my family, or helping to care for the poor of the parish.’
‘You do more than enough, and that’s partly why you keep falling ill. You wear yourself to the bone looking after the sick and aged, but you mustn’t worry. Cora and I will do more to help Papa, and you must concentrate on getting well.’ Rose leaned over to kiss her mother’s pale cheek. ‘I promise you that we’ll take care of everything.’
‘You’re such a comfort to me, Rose.’ Eleanor’s eyelids fluttered and closed and within minutes she was sound asleep.
Rose went straight to her father’s study. Her mother’s fragile condition could no longer be put aside as being a temporary indisposition. She knocked and entered the room without waiting for a response. ‘Pa, I need to talk to you.’
Seymour put his cup back on its saucer, eyeing her with a worried frown. ‘What is it, Rose? Has your mama taken a sudden turn for the worse?’
She sank down on the chair in front of his desk. ‘Mama is asleep. The laudanum has done its work, but it isn’t a cure. Dr Grantley said that she needs rest and country air. You must get her away from London before it’s too late, Pa.’
Seymour peered at her over the top of his steel-rimmed spectacles. ‘Don’t you think I would have done that months ago had it been possible, Rose?’
‘I don’t think there is a choice now. There must be something we can do.’
‘I can’t abandon my duties as parish priest.’
‘Joshua is in his fourth year as curate, Papa. Surely he could take over for as long as need be? If you could take Mama to the seaside it would be beneficial to her health.’
‘I can’t afford it, Rose. It’s as simple as that.’
Rose was not going to give up easily. ‘There must be a way.’
‘I have to trust in the Lord, my dear.’ A tired smile lit Seymour’s grey eyes. ‘Wearing yourself out with worry isn’t going to help, Rose. You’re a good daughter and I’m proud of the work you do, but you must take care of yourself or you might fall ill and then what would we do?’
She glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf and rose to her feet. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. I’ll say good night, Papa, but we’ll talk about this again in the morning. I’m not giving up so easily.’
Rose barely slept that night and was up early next morning. She washed in cold water and dressed in her Sunday best. She left the house without disturbing the rest of the family and made her way to the church. As she had hoped, Joshua Hart was in the vestry preparing for the services that would begin with Holy Communion. He turned with a start and a slow smile spread across his plain but pleasant features, making it impossible to respond in any other way. Rose had taken to Joshua from the moment they first met when he had come to St Matthew’s as a newly ordained cleric. He was one of the few people she knew who was unfailingly cheerful and courteous, with a kindly nature and a genuine desire to help those less fortunate than himself. His quiet sense of humour saved him from becoming over-serious, but early on Rose had discovered his one weakness; Joshua Hart was hopelessly in love with Cora, who barely acknowledged his existence.
‘You are up and about early, Rose.’ Joshua replaced the chalice he had been polishing in readiness for communion. His smile faded. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘I need your help, Joshua.’
‘You know that I’m always ready to do anything I can. What is it?’
‘I’m worried about my parents. Mama is very unwell and the doctor says she needs rest and fresh air. I think Papa is wearing himself out with work as well as worry.’
‘Just tell me how I can help. You know I’ll do anything for you and your family.’
‘I want you to persuade Papa that you are ready and willing to take over the parish so that he can take Mama somewhere to recuperate.’
‘Of course I’ll try to convince him that I’m capable of filling his shoes, but I’m not sure he’ll believe me.’
‘If I can find somewhere for them to stay that doesn’t cost too much, and if you can persuade him that the world won’t come to an end because he isn’t here for a while, we might make him see sense.’
‘I won’t put it quite like that, but I’ll have a word with him and see what I can do.’
‘You are a good friend, Joshua. I have every faith in you,’ Rose said, smiling.
‘Will you go with them? Your father might not think it proper for you to remain in the house on your own.’
‘Cora and I can look after ourselves, and we’ll still have Mrs Blunt. We’ll stay at home and carry out Mama’s parish duties to the best of our ability, so there’s no need to worry on that score.’
‘Leave it to me, Rose. I’ll do my very best.’
She thanked him again and left him to finish his task, safe in the knowledge that Joshua could be trusted to keep his word, but finding somewhere for her parents to stay might prove an insurmountable problem. She decided not to mention anything to Cora until she had a definite plan in mind.
Later that morning, Rose left on her own for Old Street and it was Maisie who answered her knock on the door.
‘You’re early, miss.’ Maisie eyed her curiously. ‘Is something up?’
Rose stepped inside. ‘You’re just the person I wanted to see. I need your help.’
‘I’ll do anything, miss. You know that.’
‘You know the situation,’ Rose said carefully. ‘I don’t have to explain everything, but Cora and I have to work this evening, and it’s our housekeeper’s night off.’
‘And you need some help in the kitchen,’ Maisie said, grinning. ‘That’s right up my alley, as you well know. Of course I’ll help out, but I’ll have to ask Miss Polly first.’
‘Ask me what?’ Polly emerged from the parlour. ‘Rose, what are you doing here at this time of day?’
‘Cora and I have to perform at the saloon tonight and we need some help at home. Maisie has said she’s willing, as long as it’s all right with you.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Polly turned to Maisie. ‘Off you go. I’m sure you have chores to attend to.’
Maisie bobbed a curtsey. ‘Yes’m. It is all right for me to go to the vicarage this evening, isn’t it?’
‘Haven’t I just said so?’ Polly waited until Maisie had trotted off towards the back stairs. ‘I need to talk to you, but not out here in this draughty hall. I don’t know why I keep this house on. I’d be better off living alone in a small cottage than trying to keep this place going.’ She ushered Rose into the parlour and threw herself down on the chaise longue, disturbing Spartacus, who opened one
yellow eye, stretched and extended his claws, and, having made his feelings clear, went back to sleep.
Rose took a seat by the fire, holding her hands out to the blaze. Spring might be in the air, but it was cold outside, and a fitful sun had not yet managed to burn off the thick haze of pollution from the gas works, and the pall of smoke from manufactories and coal fires.
‘What did you want to say to me, Aunt?’
‘That girl cannot remain here much longer. It’s not her fault, but she’s mixing with women twice her age, and the majority have got into trouble by selling their favours on street corners. They’re not bad souls for the most part, but it’s no place for an innocent like Maisie.’
Rose stared at her aunt, puzzled by her sudden change of heart. ‘Surely she’ll learn something from her experience here? I know that her employer took advantage of her, but she will have to go out into the world and earn her own living at some stage.’
‘Maisie trusts everyone – I realised that from the start – and she’s very impressionable. She might have the body of a young woman, but in her head she’s still a little girl. We need to find her somewhere permanent.’
‘I’ve asked her to help out at home this evening. Maybe I can persuade Papa to take her on as a scullery maid. Mrs Blunt has more than enough work to keep her occupied.’
‘That would be a kindness to the girl, otherwise I can see her ending up in a brothel, or the workhouse. A fate that most of my girls will suffer, alas.’
‘I’ve never seen you like this, Aunt Polly. You’re usually so positive and forthright.’
‘We lost one of the younger mothers last night, Rose. I took her across the road to the Lying-In Hospital, but they couldn’t save her or the child.’ Polly dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘Don’t take any notice of me, my dear. I expect I’m just tired. I’m getting too old to be up all night. When I was the toast of the East End I could give my best on stage and go on to dine and dance, staying out until the small hours without any adverse effects.’ She forced her lips into a smile but her eyes were lacklustre and red-rimmed. ‘Now tell me what is bothering you.’