Ragged Rose

by Dilly Court

  ‘It’s Mama. She was taken ill again yesterday, and the doctor says she needs to get away from the city. I’m hoping I can persuade Papa to take her to the country, or the seaside, although I’m certain he will say that it would cost too much.’

  ‘I suppose you could use some of the money you’ve saved. It’s all there in my strong box.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘No. I can’t do that. Billy’s life depends on having the best barrister I can afford. Billy has chosen Sharpe and I have to trust his judgement. By the way, Mr Sharpe won’t be calling this morning as he’s had to return to Cornwall.’

  ‘Then I am at a loss, for the moment at least.’ A glimmer of humour lit Polly’s blue eyes. ‘Which is unusual for me, you must admit.’

  ‘I do freely, Aunt,’ Rose said, chuckling. ‘I’ve never known you to be lost for words before.’

  ‘I will think about it very carefully.’ Polly sat up straight, as if struck by a sudden thought. ‘There is one possibility.’

  Rose sat on the edge of her seat. ‘Really? What is it?’

  ‘Eleanor had a friend who lived near us in Islington until she married, and then she moved to the south coast. She is your godmother and I believe my sister corresponded with her for many years. You could ask your mother if she remembers Isabel Harman. If they are still in touch perhaps she could stay with Isabel, and then your father wouldn’t need to leave his flock. Although I know he thinks he’s irreplaceable.’

  ‘Papa needs a rest too. I’ve asked Joshua if he would be prepared to take over, providing Papa agreed, and there was no objection from the diocese.’

  ‘Then I suggest you go home and speak to your mother, or even Mrs Blunt. I don’t think there’s anything that woman misses. I suspect that she listens at keyholes, and I wouldn’t put it past her to read any correspondence she found lying around.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Rose said, suppressing a chuckle. ‘Mrs Blunt has been with us for ever.’

  ‘My point exactly.’ Polly stroked Spartacus absent-mindedly and he began to purr. ‘Now go home, Rose dear. I’m going to take a nap before luncheon.’ She closed her eyes. ‘And take Maisie with you. Her endless chatter grates on my nerves.’

  ‘Yes, Aunt. Of course.’ Rose jumped to her feet. She was eager to get home and find out more about Isabel Harman.

  Eleanor was propped up on pillows, sipping a cup of warm milk, when Rose entered the bedroom. ‘You’re looking much better, Mama,’ she said softly. ‘How do you feel now?’

  ‘I hate hot milk.’ Eleanor held the cup out to her. ‘Please take it away, and don’t let Mrs Blunt see you tip it down the sink.’

  Smiling, Rose took it from her. ‘I won’t tell on you, Mama. Although I’m sure it’s good for you. Can I get you something else?’

  ‘No, thank you, my love. I’m not hungry. All I want to do is sleep.’

  Rose hesitated. ‘I was talking to Aunt Polly and she told me that you have a friend who is my godmother. I didn’t realise we had anyone close to us.’

  A faint smile hovered around Eleanor’s pale lips. ‘She must have meant Isabel, who was my dearest friend. She moved away from town when she married for the second time. Her new husband didn’t like London.’

  ‘Aunt Polly said you’ve kept in touch with her.’

  ‘Why the sudden interest?’ Eleanor’s thin hand plucked at the coverlet. ‘What has Polly been saying?’

  ‘That’s all she told me. I was just curious, because I thought it might be nice to have someone for you to visit occasionally. I dare say you would like to see her again, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I’m too ill to travel,’ Eleanor said pettishly. ‘I need to rest now, Rose. Go away like a good girl.’

  ‘Of course, Mama. I’m sorry if I’ve tired you.’ Rose walked to the door. ‘Mrs Harman moved to Brighton, so Aunt Polly said.’

  Eleanor’s eyes opened wide. ‘Polly never could get anything right. Isabel lives in Lyme Regis. Brighton, indeed!’

  ‘Of course,’ Rose said smugly. ‘I must have made a mistake.’ She was smiling as she left the room.

  ‘Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’ Cora demanded when Rose entered the dining room.

  ‘I think I might have found the answer.’

  Cora placed the last spoon and fork on the dining table and stood back to admire her work. ‘The answer to what?’

  ‘We have to pay attention to what Dr Grantley said last evening. Mama is only going to get worse if she remains in London. He recommended the country or the seaside, and I might have found a place where she can recuperate.’

  ‘Go on.’ Cora pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘I hope you realise that apart from attending Holy Communion, which you missed, I’ve spent all morning doing the chores that we’re supposed to share.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I had to make sure we have Maisie to help out this evening, and I wanted to speak to Aunt Polly. What’s more, I’ve discovered that Mama has a friend, my godmother, called Isabel Harman who lives in a place called Lyme Regis.’

  ‘I don’t see how that helps.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she were to invite our parents to stay for a while? A little holiday for them both.’

  ‘Rose, you are so devious.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s a good idea?’

  ‘No – I think it’s a marvellous idea. With our parents away we can work at Fancello’s without fear of being found out.’

  ‘And Mama will get well again.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Cora said hastily. ‘That goes without saying.’

  ‘You’re late,’ Fancello said crossly. ‘This is not a day of rest for you, young ladies.’

  Rose bit back a sharp retort. She would have liked to spend the evening quietly at home, sitting by the fire in the parlour with a good book, or attending to the heap of mending that awaited her attention. Instead she and Cora had braved the cold and rain to walk to Cupid’s Court, only to be greeted by a scolding from their employer.

  ‘We are so sorry, signor,’ Cora said apologetically. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  ‘It had better not.’ Fancello looked them up and down, shaking his head. ‘You look like two drowned sparrows. Go and change at once. Make yourselves look beautiful for the patrons.’

  ‘Yes, signor.’ Rose drew back the curtain just far enough to get a view of the saloon. ‘It’s very quiet out there. Is it always like this on Sunday nights?’

  Fancello bridled visibly. ‘More will arrive soon.’ He stomped off in answer to an urgent summons from his wife.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of him, Rose,’ Cora said, slipping her arm around her sister’s shoulders. ‘I suspect that he’s had a row with Graziella, and he was taking it out on us.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ll just think of the money we’re adding to the amount in Aunt Polly’s strong box, and ignore his bad temper.’

  Cora peered through the gap between the heavy velvet curtains. ‘Gerard isn’t there. I wonder if he’ll come tonight.’

  ‘I know I’ve said it before, but be careful, Cora. He might have a wife and children waiting for him at home, or at the very least a fiancée. Men like the Honourable Gerard Barclay don’t marry girls like us.’

  ‘That is so mean,’ Cora whispered. ‘You don’t know him, Rose. He’s a gentleman and he wouldn’t lead me on. I know he wouldn’t.’ Cora hurried off in the direction of the dressing room.

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Rose said in a whisper, but Cora was already out of earshot. Rose caught up with her as Cora squeezed into the tiny dressing room. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  Cora sniffed and turned away. ‘I know what you think. You don’t have to keep telling me, Rose. I’m not a child.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I care about you, Corrie. I don’t want you to end up broken-hearted.’

  ‘I’ll take that chance.’ Cora stepped out of her dress and slipped her costume over her head.

  Rose was about to close the door when she he
ard the sound of shouting from the upstairs apartment and the sound of breaking glass. ‘Another family squabble,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Thank goodness we don’t throw things when we get cross.’

  ‘Their fights used to worry me, but I’m getting used to them.’ Cora turned her head. ‘Will you tie my laces, please, Rose? As tight as possible.’

  Another loud crash from above made them both jump, and then there was silence. Rose did as Cora asked and then concentrated on getting herself ready.

  She was just adding the finishing touches to her stage make-up when Tommy stuck his head round the door. ‘You’re wanted upstairs, Miss Perkins.’

  She stared at him in astonishment. ‘Upstairs?’

  ‘The signora is in hysterics. The signor wants you.’

  ‘Shall I come with you?’ Cora asked anxiously.

  ‘I’ll be all right. I expect it’s something and nothing.’ Rose stepped into the corridor. She could hear Fancello’s raised voice, and, as she climbed the narrow stairs, the sound of Graziella’s hysterical sobs grew louder. The door to the Fancellos’ flat was ajar and she pushed it open.

  The sight that met her eyes made her gasp with shock and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, my goodness.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.’ Fancello grabbed Rose by the arm, dragged her inside and slammed the door.

  The sight that met her eyes was so shocking that she could only stand and stare.

  ‘What are you gawping at?’ Clementia was naked except for a small towel tied around her waist, and then she braced her shoulders exposing a flat chest covered with a soft, downy fuzz of hair.

  Graziella had been cowering on the sofa, but her child’s words seemed to galvanise her into action and she sprang to her feet, throwing her shawl around Clementia’s shoulders. ‘You have killed me, my son,’ she cried. ‘You have stuck a knife into your mamma’s heart.’

  ‘Y-you’re a boy.’ Rose felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she hastily averted her gaze.

  Fancello clenched his fists. ‘You are a wicked boy, Clementino.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Rose looked from one to the other. ‘Why have you made your son pretend to be a girl?’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Fancello demanded angrily. ‘The patrons would not pay to hear a choirboy sing. They want to see pretty girls on stage.’

  ‘But I am not a girl,’ Clementino protested. ‘I never wanted to be a girl. You have turned me into a freak.’

  ‘You are an ungrateful child,’ Graziella stormed, clutching her hands to her breast. ‘Haven’t we given you everything?’

  Rose looked Clementino in the eye and experienced a sudden surge of sympathy. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want to perform any more?’

  ‘Don’t put ideas into his head.’ Fancello glowered at her. ‘He is our little star.’

  ‘I’m not your little star,’ Clementino’s voice deepened. ‘You hear this? I can no longer be a girl. I am a man now.’

  ‘You are not yet fourteen.’ Graziella held her hands out to him. ‘You are my baby still.’

  ‘I am growing up, Mamma.’ Clementino dropped the shawl to the ground, flexing his biceps. ‘You cannot force me to wear a dress and sing like a girl.’ He fingered his chin. ‘I have to shave twice a day. Do you want to put me in the circus as a bearded lady?’

  Rose picked up the shawl and laid it on the arm of the sofa. ‘You must listen to him, signor. Can’t you see how unhappy he is?’

  Fancello turned on her. ‘I didn’t send for you so that you could give me a lecture. I want you to persuade this bad son to honour his parents and do as we say. He might listen to you because he will not listen to his mamma or me.’

  ‘Clementino is right,’ Rose said slowly. ‘You are making a show of him and it isn’t fair. He just wants to be himself.’

  Clementino pointed a shaking finger at Rose. ‘She speaks the truth. She understands me, but you don’t. I will kill myself if you make me go on that stage tonight.’ He reached for a bottle of gin and held it to his lips.

  ‘No!’ Graziella leaped to her feet and snatched it from him. ‘What will we do, Alessandro?’

  ‘I am ruined.’ Fancello subsided onto a chair. ‘Ruined by an ungrateful child. The show will close tonight. I cannot go on.’

  Clementino threw back his head and laughed. ‘It is a punishment for the way you have forced me to live these past five years, wearing dresses and bows in my hair. I will do it no longer.’

  ‘Where will we find another act to compare with our dear child?’ Graziella moaned.

  ‘Where will you find someone who works for next to nothing?’ Clementino reached for a shirt and slipped it on. ‘I intend to go home to Naples where I hope to join the opera buffa, and train to be a basso buffo. You have used me long enough.’

  Fancello held his head in his hands. ‘We will have to close.’

  ‘We cannot let our patrons down tonight,’ Graziella said, rising from the sofa. ‘Sing for us just once more, Clementino? Just once more, for your mamma.’

  ‘No. Never again.’ Clementino tossed his long dark locks and stalked out of the room.

  ‘I know the words to most of his songs.’ Rose looked from one bleak face to the other. ‘So does Cora. We could do Clementino’s act just for one night, but we would expect to be paid extra.’

  ‘It would be a travesty.’ Fancello threw up his hands. ‘I won’t allow it.’

  ‘Yes, you will, Alessandro.’ Graziella moved to a side table and unlocked a tin box. ‘Do what you can, Rose. Here is your pay, including extra for tonight. We will not be requiring you again.’

  Rose accepted the money. ‘What will you do, signora?’

  Graziella’s full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. ‘We will return to Italy. We have family in Naples, and I wish to be close to my son. Perhaps one day he will forgive us for what we have done to him.’

  ‘I hope he will, signora.’ Rose left the room. As she made her way slowly down the stairs, she noticed for the first time that the treads were worn and plaster was flaking off the walls. She must, she thought, have had stars in her eyes when she first came to Fancello’s saloon, and if she were to admit the truth she had enjoyed every minute of each performance. Papa would be horrified and Mama might never speak to her again, but she had loved the limelight and revelled in the applause. Now it had come to an end, and the distress she felt was not entirely due to the shortfall in the amount they needed to free Billy. She would miss the excitement of leading a double life, and the ever-present danger of discovery, but she could not help feeling sorry for Clementino and his parents. She went to give Cora the bad news.

  Both their performances went down well, and the audience did not seem to notice the absence of the child star, but as they took their final bow and exited from the stage Rose found herself embraced by Clementino. It was the first time she had seen him in male clothing and he was every inch a handsome youth.

  ‘Thank you, Rose,’ he said, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You have saved my life.’

  Cora stared at him in amazement. ‘Well,’ she breathed. ‘Who would have thought it?’

  ‘Good luck, Clementino. I hope everything turns out well for you.’ Rose watched him walk away with a feeling akin to envy. His metamorphosis was complete, and now he could fly away like a butterfly emerging from its pupa: there was no such escape for a young woman like herself. This adventure was over, and now she must return to a life of duty and diligence, at the beck and call of her father and then the man she might ultimately marry. Her brief stab at independence, albeit for a just cause, had come to an end. How they would find the money to pay for Billy’s defence was a problem yet to be solved. She turned with a start as Cora tugged at her sleeve.

  ‘Stop daydreaming, Rose,’ Cora said impatiently. ‘I’ve seen him. Gerard is seated at his usual table and he is on his own. I must speak to him.’

  ‘It’s over, Corrie. You won’t
see him again after tonight.’

  Cora tossed her head. ‘We’ll see about that.’ She pulled back the curtain and ran down the steps to join Gerard. His handsome features dissolved into a charming smile as he stood to greet her. Rose turned away. She had seen enough to realise that there was more to her sister’s relationship with the young aristocrat than she had at first suspected. It was another complication in an already difficult situation. She went to their dressing room and began taking off her stage make-up.

  It was almost midnight when they returned to the vicarage, having first stopped to change their clothes at Polly’s establishment. It had been decided that Maisie should remain at the vicarage until morning, as it was unsafe for her to walk home alone at this hour of the night. Even as Rose opened the scullery door she sensed that all was not well, and, as she entered the kitchen she heard the sound of groaning. A single candle guttered on the table leaving the room in deep shadow, and she almost tripped over Maisie, who was lying on a mat by the range. She was curled up in a ball, clutching her belly and moaning piteously.

  Rose went down on her knees beside her. ‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’

  Cora lit a lamp and held it over them. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Maisie raised a pale, tear-stained face and her mouth contorted with pain. ‘I dunno, miss. I got collywobbles. It don’t half hurt.’ She grimaced and clutched her hands around her belly.

  Rose looked closer and saw a tell-tale dark stain on the mat where Maisie lay. She exchanged worried glances with Cora. ‘We’ll need towels and hot water.’ She smoothed Maisie’s hair back from her damp forehead. ‘It will be over soon. Don’t be scared, we helped once when a woman miscarried at Aunt Polly’s, so we know what to do. It’s probably for the best.’

  A thin sliver of daylight filtered through the kitchen window as Rose and Cora sat down to drink a well-earned cup of tea. Maisie had survived her ordeal, and was sleeping peacefully in Billy’s old room.

  Cora added two lumps of sugar to her cup. ‘I suppose if the worst comes to the worst we could seek employment as midwives.’