‘And if you’re referring to what I think you are, it happened over seven years ago,’ Mrs Benson added.
Mabel nodded solemnly. ‘True. But it was the talk of every street corner for months.’
‘So I understand,’ Jonathan said with a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.
‘Oh, please, Captain Quinn, do not condemn her completely,’ Mabel said, in a flutter of righteousness. ‘She is Irish, after all, and they have a very untroubled attitude towards chast—’
‘Kate was only sixteen when Freddie Ellis set out to ruin her,’ Mrs Benson interrupted, ‘and too inexperienced to see through his deceit. Unfortunately, the moment he found out she was with child, Freddie abandoned her! What he stupidly overlooked was that she was Patrick Nolan’s sister and you don’t injure a member of his family and get away with it.’
‘I would say the person shamed by this story is Freddie Ellis,’ said Jonathan. ‘I would certainly object to him selling cakes at the church fête but I can’t see why anyone would complain if Mrs Ellis did.’
‘Neither can I.’ Mrs Benson turned to the young woman sitting beside her. ‘So will you speak to her on Sunday or shall I, Miss Puttock?’
‘That’s kind of you, Mrs Benson, but as Mrs Overton has charged me with responsibility for the fair, I should be the one to ask dear Mrs Ellis to join our team.’
If Kate had known that it was compulsory to attend Mabel Puttock’s weekly planning meeting, she would never have agreed to help on the cake stall. In truth, she should have said no straight away because it was being held on Saturday afternoon, which was the only time she had to take stock, properly scrub her baking trays, pie dishes and cooking trays, and simply rest. But when Miss Puttock mentioned that Captain Quinn would be opening the fair, all of Kate’s reasons flew out of the window.
Stifling a yawn, and looking around the vestry table at the half-dozen young women of the parish who had also been recruited, Kate wondered if for once the meeting would finish on time. Somehow, with Miss Puttock presiding, she didn’t think it likely, even though they had gone over the same lists at the previous meeting.
She smoothed a crease from her skirt. By young women of the parish, she didn’t mean those who worked morning to night keeping their family business afloat or who laboured in the clothing sweatshops and factories for ten hours a day. No – these were the chatty young ladies who helped Mama deal with the tradesmen, and took cabs to Cheapside to visit their dressmakers. Sitting among them in their brightly coloured crinolines, Kate felt her second best gown looked very drab.
Miss Puttock tapped lightly with the gavel to bring them to order. ‘So if I can just read out the list of those helping with the main stalls to make sure there are sufficient troops to cover all areas,’ she said, glancing down at her notes. ‘Lottie will be in command of the flower stall and Miriam will be responsible for the preserves and pickles. I shall inspect the display to make sure they are all present and correctly labelled.’
The women around the table exchanged amused glances and suppressed their smiles.
Miss Puttock looked severely at them and they lowered their eyes. Kate wondered if the grocer’s boy had delivered tomorrow’s vegetables to the shop yet.
‘Ada and Eliza will garrison the . . .’ Miss Puttock continued to list the home-craft stalls and the young women responsible for them and finally looked down the table at Kate. ‘And I, as the overall commander, flanked by Mrs Ellis . . .’
There was another flurry of giggles. Miss Puttock’s mouth pulled together disapprovingly.
‘. . . will defend the cake table against all comers.’
The young women around the table tittered. Miss Puttock glared at them and tapped the gavel again.
‘Do we all agree on who is to do what?’ she asked. Six carefully coiffured heads nodded. ‘Good.’ She shuffled her papers. ‘I expect you to carry out your orders to the—’
Ada’s shoulders began to shake and Eliza spluttered.
‘What is so amusing?’ Miss Puttock asked crossly.
‘We thought you were teasing us, Mabel.’
‘Teasing!’ Miss Puttock’s face went red. ‘Let me assure you, the success of this year’s church fête is not something I would joke about.’
‘It’s just that you—’ Ada started.
‘You seem to be using a lot of military phrases,’ Kate cut in. ‘And I think they thought you were having a little joke. You know? A play on words.’
Mabel looked astonished.
Miriam nodded. ‘Like garrison.’
‘And present and correct,’ added Caroline.
Eliza pulled a serious-minded face. ‘“Defend the cake table”,’ she said in a deep voice, then giggled. She cast her eyes around the table. ‘It would seem that being in Captain Quinn’s company has sent Mabel’s head into a soldierly swirl.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Sophie. ‘My head spins every time he walks past me.’
Mabel’s demeanour went from tiger to kitten. ‘I confess,’ she said, looking demurely at them, ‘when one is in the company of a man such as Captain Quinn, it is impossible not be affected by him.’
‘I can just imagine him in his uniform,’ sighed Lottie.
Kate’s mind drifted back to the first time she met him. In fact it did quite often, although she’d never mentioned it to anyone, not even Mattie.
Miriam rested her chin on her hand and gazed upward. ‘And the eyepatch is so dashing.’
Miss Puttock looked grave. ‘I agree. The wound he received while defending our country does not detract from any part of him. He is a hero and gentleman and I greatly admire him.’
‘But does he admire you, Mabel?’ asked Sophie.
Miss Puttock’s cheeks went crimson. ‘You should not ask such things,’ she replied, coquettishly. ‘I cannot say.’
‘Has he declared himself?’
‘Is he going to speak to your father?’
‘Has he held you in his arms?’
A sudden ache rose up in Kate. She studied the woman opposite her.
Miss Puttock placed one hand over the other on the table in front of her and looked coolly at them all. ‘You will understand if I do not answer your question but I will say that whenever we have met, Captain Quinn has been a perfect gentleman.’
Kate let go of her breath. He hadn’t and she felt oddly relieved.
‘I agree with you, Miss Puttock. Captain Quinn pops in to my shop for a coffee at least three times a week and he is always extremely well mannered.’ Kate rose to her feet as seven pairs of eyes stared at her. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me, Miss Puttock, but the children will be back from school soon.’
Miss Puttock forced a polite smile. ‘Of course, Mrs Ellis, it was good of you to spare the time, and thank you for your generous donation of three cakes.’
‘Not at all.’ Kate tugged on her gloves. ‘I’ll make one of them a lemon cake. It’s Captain Quinn’s favourite.’ She stepped out from her place at the table and walked to the door. She turned and looked at Lottie. ‘And I can tell you, Miss Frances, he does look very fine in his red coat.’
Jonathan stifled a yawn as Mrs Puttock recounted a blow-by-blow account of her journey to her sister’s house in Fulham on the paddle steamer. Mabel sat on the sofa beside her mother, with her hands folded demurely onto her lap and a pretty little expression on her lips. Her gaze shifted from her mother to him and Jonathan smiled admiringly. There was a light knock at the door.
‘Come,’ called Mrs Puttock.
The parlour door opened and the maid came in.
‘Yes?’ Mrs Puttock asked.
The maid bobbed a curtsy. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but Cook said there’s a problem with the butcher’s order and can you come to straighten it out?’
‘Tell Cook I’ll be down later,’ Mrs Puttock replied, replenishing the teapot with hot water.
The maid bobbed another curtsy. ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, but Cook says it’s urgent.’
Mrs Puttock sighed and rose to her feet. ‘Please forgive me, Captain Quinn,’ she said, smiling regretfully at him. ‘It is most tiresome but I will have to attend to this.’
Jonathan stood up. ‘Of course. I do hope you don’t find too much of a problem in the kitchen.’
Mrs Puttock rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sure it is something perfectly simple, but you know what servants are like.’
Jonathan didn’t comment.
‘I’m sure Mabel will be able to keep you entertained until I return.’ Mrs Puttock gave her daughter a wide-eyed look. ‘Why don’t you show Captain Quinn your scrapbook, my dear?’
With a rustle of silk she swept out, closing the door behind her. Jonathan resumed his seat and smiled inwardly.
As a newly formed acquaintance of the family it would have been impolite of him to outstay his welcome, so Jonathan limited his afternoon visits to the Puttocks to just an hour. He was pleased to because, frankly, there was only so much upholstery and colour schemes a man could take. However, since Easter there seemed to have been a succession of domestic disasters requiring Mrs Puttock’s immediate attention twenty-five minutes into his visit. Last week it had been the grocer’s bill and the week before the coal delivery.
Mabel rose gracefully and glided across to the bureau to collect her leather-bound scrapbook. Hugging it to her, she returned to the sofa and set it on her lap.
‘Why don’t you come and sit beside me, Captain? You’ll be able to see more easily.’ She patted the vacant seat next to her.
Jonathan stood up and joined her on the sofa.
‘You might have to sit a little closer,’ she said, shyly.
Why not? After all wasn’t it his intention to move things on so he could speak to her father? He shifted along.
‘That’s better.’ She smiled beguilingly up at him then opened the book. ‘I’ve collected four articles about the Queen this week,’ she said, scanning her eyes over the page of pasted newspaper cuttings and snipped outline drawings.
‘How interesting,’ he said, trying to look as if he meant it.
‘Yes. There are two from The Times. One about the Queen’s working day and the other with her diary for the coming month. Another from the Illustrated News about her and Prince Albert’s fondness for the Highlands and here’ – she pointed a well-manicured finger at a pasted square of newsprint – ‘The Lady’s Newspaper had two full columns about the royal children.’
Jonathan slid his arm along the back of the sofa behind Mabel. ‘And what is that?’ he asked, leaning closer and pointed at a picture of three women standing by a fountain.
‘That’s the latest fashion from Paris.’ She turned and Jonathan found himself looking into her blue eyes.
Well, as blue as any eyes could be next to Kate Ellis’s. He straightened up and removed his arm.
‘I have a crick in my back,’ he explained.
Mabel looked disappointed. Jonathan cursed himself. What on earth was wrong with him?
He smiled warmly at Mabel. ‘Perhaps I’ll move a little closer so I won’t have to stretch.’
She brightened instantly. ‘Yes, do.’
Jonathan shifted along until his thighs met the steel band of her crinoline. Mabel straightened the lace of her skirt and it fluttered against his trousers.
‘This is my collection of puppies,’ she said as she turned the page to reveal a dozen or so lapdogs with bows on their collars frolicking across the sheet. ‘And these are things that are just pretty,’ she said, turning the next leaf to show him the colour-prints of cherubs, flowers, children and birds glued to sugar paper.
Jonathan forced a smile and questioned the wisdom of keeping a girl cosseted with her mother beyond childhood. An image of Kate Ellis standing behind the counter and serving dinners popped into his mind. He tried to shove it aside but it wouldn’t budge, and then his imagination added in her throaty laugh just to distract him further.
‘Oh!’ Mabel’s hand went to her face. ‘Something has flown into my eye.’
‘Don’t rub it,’ Jonathan said, turning towards her.
‘It stings.’
‘Try to blink it out.’
She fluttered her eyelids a couple of times. ‘It’s still there.’
Jonathan took out his handkerchief and moved nearer. ‘Let me see.’
Mabel tilted her head back.
‘Which one?’ Jonathan peered more closely.
‘The left.’
Jonathan dipped his head. ‘I can’t see anything,’ he said, putting his finger on her cheek and gently pulling down her lower lid.
Mabel blinked again. ‘I think it’s gone.’ She swayed forward and smiled longingly up at him.
They were sitting very close together. All he needed to do was lower his lips on to hers. Wasn’t that his intention and the reason Mrs Puttock left them alone in the parlour each week?
Jonathan’s arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her closer. ‘That colour becomes you very well, Mabel.’
‘Oh, Jonathan,’ she sighed, placing her hand on his chest.
Jonathan lowered his head and Mable closed her eyes.
He was just about to press his lips on hers when the door handle rattled. Her eyes flew open. Jonathan let go of Mabel instantly and moved away just as the maid walked in.
Although Mabel looked furious, Jonathan had an odd sense of relief.
The maid curtsied. ‘Begging your pardon, miss. Cook told me to check the fires.’
‘You’re supposed to knock first,’ Mabel said, tucking a strand of hair back in place.
‘Yes, miss, but I didn’t know you were in here with . . .’ Her eyes darted from Mabel to Jonathan and back again. ‘I’ll come back later.’ She bobbed again and fled.
Jonathan glanced at the clock. ‘Is that the time?’ He stood up. ‘I ought to be getting back.’
Mabel’s bottom lip jutted out. ‘But you’ve only been here for forty minutes.’
‘I know, but I shouldn’t compromise your reputation by being alone with you. You know how servants talk,’ he said, stepping away from the sofa.
‘Your sentiments do you credit, Captain,’ Mabel said, struggling to hide her frustration. ‘But I’m sure my reputation is quite safe.’
‘It certainly is, but if your mother had come upon us a few moments ago she might have thought otherwise.’ Mabel was about to argue so Jonathan continued. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Puttock, please give my regards to your mother and I look forward to seeing you both in church on Sunday. I’ll see myself out. Good day.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘So let me get this straight, Dermot, you are wanting me to supply a dozen beef and a dozen mixed-meat and onion each day,’ Kate said.
They were sitting at the window table with the mid-afternoon sunlight throwing a dappled pattern on the scrubbed wooden surface. She’d turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and sent Sally off for her well-earned break. This was usually when Kate caught her breath before the children came in and the teatime onslaught began, but as Dermot Sullivan, the local baked-potato seller, wanted to have a word about business, this seemed the ideal time.
‘That I do. With old Ruben selling a slice of your cake with his coffee, I thought I should offer a pie or two on the stall by way of a change. What price can you do me?’
‘Two and three farthings for the meat-and-onion, a penny more for the beef,’ Kate said.
Dermot pulled a face. ‘Well, I know your fine Irish home cooking is the best to be had in the whole world,’ his face creased in to an ingenious smile, ‘but can you not see your way to shaving a bit more off for old times’ sake, Kate, me darling?’
Kate lips twitched. ‘I’ll take off another farthing and wrap them for you, but that’s my final price.’
Dermot paused a moment then grinned, showing his missing front teeth. ‘A farthing it is then.’ He shook her hand. ‘Starting next week?’
‘They’ll be waiting for you to collect at ten. Park your cart in
the yard and knock on the back—’
The door leading from the parlour flew open. It was Freddie. Kate’s heart thumped uncomfortably in her chest.
Mattie used to call him Flashy Freddie and in his green and brown Worcester suit, high-crowned hat and polished leather brogues he certainly fitted that description now. His gaze flickered onto Dermot then back to Kate. She stood up.
‘Who’s the old man?’ Freddie asked.
Kate stepped out from the table. ‘Just a customer.’
Freddie strolled across and loomed over them. ‘Sling your hook,’ he said to Dermot.
The chair scraped on the floor as Dermot got up. ‘Now look here—’
‘No, you look here. Make yourself scarce before I’m forced to break something.’ Freddie shoved him.
Dermot fell against the window.
Kate pushed past Freddie. ‘Are you all right, Dermot?’ she asked, helping him regain his balance.
He nodded.
‘Perhaps you’d better go,’ she added. He looked over her shoulder at Freddie and she smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s all right.’
Dermot gathered his cap from the table but as he left, he turned and jabbed his finger at Freddie. ‘Mrs Ellis could have the law on you, walking into her shop as if you own it!’
Freddie laughed. ‘I’m her old man, you stupid old sod, so I can walk in here any time I please and the law ain’t got no way of stopping me.’
He stamped his foot and lunged forward. Dermot scurried out in a rush.
Freddie sneered. ‘Gutless Paddy. They’re only brave enough to stand up to their own kind.’
Kate spun around. ‘You’re the coward, picking on an old man twice your age.’
‘Where’s Joe?’
‘At school.’
‘Fucking waste of time,’ Freddie said. ‘I didn’t go to school and I ain’t book learned – a man needs but brains.’ He tapped the side of his head.
Kate raised an eyebrow. ‘Well then, it’s a pity you haven’t got any. If you did, you wouldn’t keep showing up where you’re not wanted.’
A mocking smile spread across his face as he looked down at her. ‘I suppose cos I ain’t been around, you hoped I’d disappeared again,’ he said, reaching into the till.
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