by Dilly Court
‘That will be your room,’ Mary said as she opened the door of the neighbouring bedchamber. ‘This is mine. Come in and we’ll see if I have anything which might fit you.’
Lucetta followed her into the large room, warmed by a coal fire and the glow of gaslight. The maids had obviously been busy in here also, as the bed sheets were turned down and a white lawn nightgown lay in readiness on the satin coverlet. Rose-pink velvet curtains were drawn across two tall windows and button-back chairs upholstered in similar material were placed strategically on either side of the white marble mantelpiece. Lucetta gazed round appreciatively at the simple yet elegant style of the armoire, dressing table and washstand made from glowing burr walnut. The scent of roses filled the room even though it was midwinter, and watercolours of birds and flowers adorned the walls. It was a lady’s room and yet there were signs that Mary had not quite abandoned her childhood. A huge doll’s house occupied the space between the two windows and two shelves were crammed with beautifully dressed dolls of all sizes. Their painted smiles never wavered and their glassy eyes seemed to stare at Lucetta as she hovered in the doorway, taking in the scene with a nostalgic and slightly envious pleasure.
‘Come in,’ Mary said, hurrying over to the armoire and opening the double doors. She began pulling out gowns, skirts and blouses and flinging them haphazardly onto the bed. ‘Take your pick, Daisy. See if you can find something that will fit you, although you are so slender I fear they might all be too large.’ She glanced at her own slim figure in the cheval mirror and frowned. ‘I can get my waist down to twenty inches on a good day, with Phyllis tugging at the laces of my stays, but I’d say yours is closer to eighteen. I am quite jealous.’
Lucetta stared down at the fine fabrics in a rainbow of colours. She touched the material and the coarse skin on her work-worn fingers snagged the delicate silk. She shook her head. ‘I can’t take any one of these, Mary. They must have cost a small fortune and I have no way of repaying you.’
‘Don’t be a goose,’ Mary scolded. ‘I wouldn’t think of accepting anything in return.’ She delved amongst the garments and pulled one from the bottom of the pile, holding it up to the light. ‘Now this is an old one. I haven’t worn it for at least three years. In fact I don’t know why it is still in my wardrobe.’ She thrust the cornflower-blue silk gown into Lucetta’s hands. ‘I was about your age when I last wore this, and a little thinner, too. Try it on and see how it feels.’ She turned away and began rummaging in one of the drawers. ‘You will need a shift and some unmentionables, as well.’ She selected the necessary undergarments and thrust them into Lucetta’s hands. ‘There, put these on. I won’t look.’
She sat down on one of the chairs by the fire and picked up a fashion journal, flicking through the pages while Lucetta struggled out of her damp clothes.
The sheer luxury of having fine lawn next to her skin made Lucetta’s spine tingle. She sniffed appreciatively at the scent of dried rose petals and lavender that permeated the soft fabric, and when she slipped the silk gown over her head she felt that she had died and gone to heaven. But she came back to earth with a bump as her sore fingers could not fasten the tiny pearl buttons and she let out a sigh of sheer frustration.
Mary dropped the magazine and leapt to her feet. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I can’t do up the buttons,’ Lucetta said, stifling a sob and holding out her hands for Mary to see.
‘You poor thing,’ Mary said with her own eyes brimming with tears. ‘Let me help you and then we can go downstairs for supper. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’
Giles rose to his feet as Mary entered the parlour first. ‘Good God, what kept you? I was about to start without you …’ His voice tailed off as Lucetta followed Mary into the room. His eyes widened and for once he seemed at a loss for words.
‘What do you think, Giles,’ Mary demanded, laughing. ‘Doesn’t Daisy look absolutely splendid?’
‘Stunning! Absolutely stunning and her name is Lucetta.’
Lucetta felt the blood rush to her cheeks. ‘It’s a lovely gown. I can’t thank you enough, Mary, and I really don’t mind if you call me Daisy.’
‘The name seems to suit you, my dear. And it’s not the gown, Giles, it’s the young woman who is wearing it,’ Mary said, smiling happily. ‘I knew it would suit you, Daisy. It brings out the colour of your eyes and complements your lovely golden hair, although if we had had more time I would have put it up for you. What do you think, Giles?’
‘I think that all women with hair like Lucetta’s should wear it just like that: hanging loose around their shoulders.’ He drew up a chair. ‘Won’t you take a seat, Miss Froy?’
Lucetta was only too glad to sit down. Exhaustion both emotional and physical was almost overwhelming and she was faint with hunger. The food had been laid out on a dainty hexagonal tea table set in front of the fire. Lucetta gazed hungrily at the assortment of cold roast meats and a pie with a glistening golden-brown crust and her mouth watered.
Mary began serving the food while Giles poured wine into three glasses. He raised one in a toast. ‘Happy birthday, Lucetta Froy. Tomorrow morning first thing I’m going to Thornhill Crescent to see your uncle. I’m certain that when he sees you looking like that he will have no difficulty in recognising you.’
Mary looked up from cutting into the pie. ‘She must wear gloves though. No one would believe she was a young lady of fortune with those work-worn hands.’
‘I doubt if a small detail like that would bother a man of intelligence,’ Giles said confidently. ‘Once I’ve explained everything I’m certain that Lucetta’s uncle will welcome her with open arms.’
Chapter Eleven
‘I’m so sorry, Lucetta,’ Giles said, taking both her hands in his. ‘I did my best but your uncle is a hard man. He simply wouldn’t listen and kept insisting that he had identified the body and that his niece was buried alongside her parents.’
Lucetta stared down at their entwined fingers; his were the unblemished hands of a gentleman and hers, although tiny by comparison, were the hands of a scullery maid. She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out in despair. She had dared to hope, but in her heart she had known that Uncle Bradley was an ambitious man who had always been jealous of her father’s success in business and had resented being the junior partner. She realised now that he was dishonest as well as greedy and that there had been no mistake. He had deliberately chosen not to recognise her and he had no intention of allowing her to claim her inheritance.
She raised her eyes slowly to Giles’ face and was touched to see a look of genuine concern in his eyes. ‘I had no real hope, but thank you for trying.’ Her voice broke on a sob and he released her hands to wrap his arms around her in a brotherly embrace.
‘I really thought that I could convince him that you had survived the shipwreck,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘Perhaps I was wrong in going there alone. If you were to accompany me next time …’
Lucetta drew away, turning her head so that he would not see the tears coursing down her cheeks. ‘No, Giles. Thank you, but no. Mama always said that Uncle Bradley was a devious man, and I knew that she did not like Aunt Eliza, although she never said as much, but when you are a child you sense these things …’
Giles pressed a clean handkerchief into her hand. ‘I don’t know what to say, Lucetta. I believe your story absolutely, but it will be almost impossible to prove who you are unless you can find reputable witnesses who would swear to your identity.’
Lucetta sank down on the chair where she had sat the previous evening while they drank a birthday toast. Her hopes had been high then, but now as the cold grey light of a snowy morning filtered through the windowpanes in the Hastings’ parlour, she knew she must face reality. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. ‘We were away for almost a year and before that I was a boarder at Miss Milton’s Academy in Highbury, just a schoolgirl. The servants would know me, but I expect Uncle Bradley has thought of that and has s
ent them packing. I certainly didn’t recognise his footman, and I can only assume that Mama’s maid perished when the Caroline sank.’
Giles took a seat opposite her. ‘Perhaps a visit to the shipping company would help. If the captain or any of the ship’s officers were among the survivors they would be able to testify in your favour.’
Lucetta felt herself blushing as she thought of Sam, but their brief time together in Bali had taken on a dream-like quality. That whirlwind romance might have happened to another girl, living in a different world. The reality was here and now, but the one thing she did know was that the loss of her home and fortune would pale into insignificance if she were to be reunited with the man she loved. She nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, Captain Sharpe and the ship’s officers would know me.’
‘Then we must find out if the captain was amongst the survivors.’ Giles glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Unfortunately I have to return to the hospital at midday and will be on duty for thirty-six hours or even longer, but I believe Mary has some time off tomorrow. She would be more than willing to accompany you to the shipping office.’
‘I’m not afraid to go out alone, Giles.’
‘I wouldn’t advise it. Anyway, the roads are treacherous. You would do far better to stay indoors today and rest.’
His expression was so serious that Lucetta could not resist teasing him. ‘Is that your professional opinion, doctor?’
This brought the twinkle back to his eyes. ‘Both professional and personal. Try not to worry, Lucetta. Mary and I will do everything in our power to help you establish your identity.’
‘But what about Mary’s father? What will he say when he finds a penniless orphan foisted upon him?’
‘Uncle Hector is a good man, despite being a politician. He will understand and may even be persuaded to take up your cause, so you have no need to worry on that score.’ With a reassuring smile, Giles patted her hand. ‘Now, I really must go or Sister Demarest will report me to my superiors and I will be in trouble.’
‘Thank you, Giles,’ Lucetta said softly. ‘I am truly grateful for everything you and Mary have done for me.’
He hesitated for a brief moment, meeting her earnest gaze with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes, and then he turned away abruptly and left the room.
Lucetta ran to the window and watched him as he walked down the front path and opened the gate leading into the square. He hailed a passing cab and was gone, but she could still see his footsteps in the freshly fallen snow. She shivered as a cold draught forced its way between the sash-window frames and she wrapped Mary’s cashmere shawl more closely around her shoulders. Turning away from the monochrome wintry scene, she went to warm herself by the fire. She stared into the leaping orange and yellow tongues of flame as they licked around the shiny lumps of coal and caressed the fireback, setting alight the tiny flecks of soot which clung there. The intense heat reminded her of Bali and in her mind she crossed the thousands of miles of ocean.
She closed her eyes as she conjured up the precious images of Sam from the moment they had met at the temple until their tearful parting on the quay. But at least a merciful providence had spared him from drowning in the polluted waters of the Thames. Giles’ words rang in her head and now the answer seemed blindingly obvious. She must go to the shipping office and make enquiries as to Sam’s whereabouts now. He had been due to return on the Louisa, the Caroline‘s sister ship, and he might even be on leave in London at this very moment. She clutched her hand to her bosom, hardly able to breathe. If that was so, Sam would have been told of her demise. He would think she had been buried in the cold earth and was lost to him forever.
She turned away from the fire and moved swiftly to the chair where she had left the reticule that Mary had given her before leaving for the hospital that morning. She opened the embroidered silk purse and tipped its contents into the palm of her hand. Mary had insisted that Lucetta might need some money for essentials, and she had been more than generous. Having counted the coins, Lucetta was satisfied that she had enough for a cab fare to Wapping Wall where the offices of the Far Eastern Shipping Line were situated. She would need to borrow some outdoor garments from Mary’s wardrobe, but she did not want the servants to think that she had taken them without permission. She decided to brave the redoubtable Phyllis and she reached out to tug the bell pull. She paced the floor while she waited, reminding herself that she was Miss Lucetta Froy of Thornhill Crescent and she was used to giving orders to servants. ‘Come in,’ she said firmly in answer to a knock on the door.
Phyllis entered the room, standing stiffly to attention. ‘You rang, miss?’
‘I have to go out and Miss Mary said I might borrow a cloak and bonnet.’
‘Very well, miss.’
Lucetta breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind Phyllis. So far so good. She had not expected it to be that easy.
The cab drew up outside the shipping office in Wapping Wall. ‘Wait for me please, cabby,’ Lucetta said as she alighted from the vehicle. Without waiting for his reply she made her way carefully through the ankle-deep slush. A bell jangled as she entered the office, closing the door carefully behind her. She paused as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom of the oak-panelled room with its high counter and walls lined with hard wooden seats. A coal fire smouldered in a grate but its feeble glow gave off little heat, and the candles in the wall sconces guttered, almost extinguished by the draught of ice-cold air that had followed her in from the street.
The clerk perched on a high stool behind the counter was wearing a muffler and mittens and the tip of his nose was cherry-red. ‘May I help you, miss?’ His nasal voice had a rasp to it which suggested that he was suffering from a head cold, and he peered at her with watery red-rimmed eyes. ‘If it’s your allotment you’re after we don’t pay out until midday Saturday.’
Lucetta shook her head. ‘No, I came for information only.’
‘If it’s sailing times you want, then they’re posted up on the board,’ he said, jerking his head in the direction of the wall behind his head.
‘No, that’s not it either,’ Lucetta said, forcing herself to be patient. After all, the poor fellow looked as though he ought to be at home tucked up in bed with a stone hot water bottle at his feet. ‘What I wanted to know was if you have a list of survivors from the wreck of the Caroline?’
‘I’m not at liberty to give out such information.’
‘I just want to know whether Captain Sharpe was amongst the survivors.’
‘I can say that he was, miss.’
‘And do you know where I might find him?’ Lucetta held her breath, waiting for his answer.
‘In the mad house, miss. Sadly the captain lost his mind completely and had to be locked away for his own safety.’
Lucetta stared at him in disbelief and horror. The man she remembered had seemed like a tower of strength; she could not imagine him collapsing either mentally or physically. ‘But the other officers, did they survive?’
‘No, miss. Sadly not. Although I believe the first mate was not on board at the time of the tragedy.’
‘That would be Mr Cutler.’
The clerk took a ledger from beneath the counter and leafed through its pages. ‘Yes, miss. He arrived back in London on board the Louisa at the end of June.’
‘And his whereabouts now?’ Lucetta gripped her gloved hands together so tightly that she felt her knuckles crack. She hardly dared to breathe as she waited for him to search for the information.
‘Mr Cutler was paid off. He is no longer in the employ of the Far Eastern Shipping Line. I can’t help you any further. Good day, miss.’
‘You must have his home address on your books.’
‘Like I said before, miss, I’m not at liberty to give out such information. Now I must ask you to leave as I need to speak to the shipping manager.’
Tucking the ledger beneath his arm, he slid off the stool and was about to open the door directly behind
him when Lucetta called him back. ‘Wait, please. I am desperate to find Mr Cutler. Can you not stretch a point just this once? I would not ask if it were not so desperately important to me.’
‘Like that is it?’ The clerk pulled a red and white spotted handkerchief from his pocket and sneezed into it. Wiping his nose, he eyed Lucetta’s waistline. ‘You don’t look very far gone, but then we all know what these boys are like when they come ashore.’
Lucetta’s cheeks burned but she made no attempt to hide her blushes. She met the clerk’s gaze with a beseeching look. ‘Please, sir, have pity on a poor girl.’
He stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket and replaced the ledger on the counter top. ‘Well, if I am called away on business and you are overcome by curiosity, I daresay I can’t be blamed.’ He opened the inner door and left the office without a backward glance.
Lucetta seized the leather-bound volume and flipped through the pages, peering at the lines of neat copperplate writing. She ran her finger down the entries beginning at A for Adams, until she came to C for Carson, Carter, Clarke and finally Cutler, Samuel, first mate. Cutler’s Boatyard, Union Street, Salcombe, Devonshire. Lucetta did not need to write the address down. It would be engraved on her heart forever. She closed the ledger and hurried out to the waiting and extremely irritable cabby, who complained that he would have to charge her double for keeping his horse standing about in such inclement weather. She could not have cared less. If it took all the money in her purse it would have been worth it to discover Sam’s address, even if he lived at the far end of the country. She had no idea how she would get to Devonshire but if there was no alternative, she was prepared to walk all the way.