by Dilly Court
‘Shut up, Norwood. You’re drunk.’ Percy tried to stand but fell back on his chair.
‘Drunk or sober, I’m honoured to make your acquaintance, ma’am.’ Rufus Norwood seized Nettie’s hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Will you and your party join us, fair lady?’
She met his gaze and realised with a shock that he was not nearly as drunk as he made out. His lips were smiling but his hazel eyes danced with amusement. She snatched her hand away and hurried on before Byron had a chance to intervene.
‘Do you know that fellow?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘If he upset you I’ll go and sort him out.’
‘I’ve never met him before in my life,’ Nettie said hastily. ‘Ignore them; they’re all tipsy.’
‘I may be a trifle inebriated,’ Rufus said with a courtly bow, ‘but I would never insult a lady.’
‘Sit down and stop being such a bore.’ Percy tugged at his friend’s coat-tails.
Nettie walked away and took her seat at the table with her head held high; she had no intention of letting anything or anyone spoil the evening, and it was Byron’s birthday – he was the most important person present.
But her enjoyment was short lived. Just as they were about to finish their main course, who should walk through the door but Duke Dexter, and the young woman who clung to his arm, laughing and flirting outrageously, was none other than Amelie Fabron. They were accompanied by two other couples, who were equally loud and very drunk. It was obvious that Duke was a regular customer as the waiters fawned upon him, rushing around to clear a table in the centre of the restaurant, pulling up chairs and wafting clean napkins in the air before laying them on their patrons’ laps.
‘Who the hell is that?’ Pip demanded, chuckling. ‘You’d think that fellow was a royal.’
‘He’s an art dealer,’ Byron said in a low voice. ‘One of our clients tried to sue him and failed. Everyone knows he’s a criminal, but so far the police haven’t been able to pin anything on him. He’s as slippery as an eel.’
‘And twice as ugly,’ Pip added. ‘I’d call him vulgar. Look at the gold rings he wears on both hands.’
Ted sighed heavily. ‘It doesn’t seem to worry that young lady – she’s beautiful. What does she see in him?’
‘What’s the matter with all of you?’ Nettie leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘You must have seen her often enough. That’s Amelie, the Fabrons’ daughter. She’s in the play at the Adelphi, or rather she’s an understudy, so I don’t know what she’s doing here.’
Byron turned his head to take another look. ‘By Jove, so it is. I’ve only seen her in passing and she always puts her head down and scuttles by as if she thinks I’ll bite. Look at her now.’
‘I’ve a good mind to tell her father,’ Ted said angrily. ‘That fellow is up to no good. Look at the way he’s running his fingers up and down her arm. I ought to go over there and give him a piece of my mind.’
Nettie reached out and laid her hand on his clenched fist. ‘It has nothing to do with us, Ted. She’s not like your lady friend from the bakery – Amelie is her parents’ problem, not yours.’ She glanced at Duke and felt the blood rush to her cheeks as their eyes met. Even worse, he rose to his feet and was coming towards them. Nettie looked around for a way of escape, but there was none.
Duke came to a halt beside her. ‘Well, well, I wasn’t expecting to see you here this evening, Miss Carroll.’
Byron rose to his feet. ‘Do you know this man, Nettie?’
‘Of course she does,’ Duke said smoothly. ‘How would I be aware of her name if we weren’t acquainted?’
‘This is Mr Dexter who has an art gallery in Dover Street,’ Nettie said stiffly. ‘I’ve visited it with Pa.’
‘Of course you have.’ Duke took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘I’m delighted to see you again after all this time, Miss Carroll. Please remember me to your father and tell him that I look forward to seeing his latest work – sooner rather than later.’ He bowed and strolled back to his table.
Amelie turned to stare at them and looked away quickly, but not before Nettie had seen panic in the girl’s eyes, giving her the appearance of a startled fawn.
‘Someone ought to tell her father,’ Ted insisted sulkily. ‘She’s too young for him, and he’s obviously a libertine.’
‘She is young,’ Nettie said slowly, ‘but she was brought up in the theatre. I’m sure she’s got his measure, but I’ll speak to her if it will make you feel better, Ted.’
He shrugged and pushed his plate away. ‘I suppose it’s none of my business, but I don’t like the look of that man.’
‘Neither do I,’ Pip added with feeling. ‘I’ve met his ilk often enough when they need someone to represent them in court. They think their ill-earned money can buy anything and anyone.’
Byron picked up the wine bottle and refilled Ted’s glass. ‘Drink up, everyone. It’s my birthday, so let’s enjoy ourselves. Who’s for pudding?’
Pip smiled and raised his glass. ‘Here’s to you, Byron. Happy birthday, and I’d love something sweet.’ He nudged Ted, grinning widely. ‘I’m sure you would, too, if only you’d stop drooling over young Amelie. Anyone would think you’d never seen a pretty girl before.’
‘I’ve never seen her looking like that,’ Ted muttered.
‘Don’t tease him,’ Nettie said, smiling. ‘He’s just being protective.’
‘That’s right, I am,’ Ted murmured. ‘Women need to be protected.’
‘That’s very gallant, Ted.’ Nettie raised her glass. ‘Let’s remember that we’re here to celebrate Byron’s good fortune and his special day. Happy birthday, Byron.’ She sipped her wine but she was aware that Duke was staring at her, and she looked away quickly.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, Nettie?’
She turned to see Byron leaning close and smiling. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said hastily. ‘It’s a lovely restaurant and delicious food.’
‘You looked so far away just now.’
‘I was just wondering how I was going to convince Amelie that Duke Dexter is not the sort of man she should associate with.’
‘What do you know about him, Nettie?’
She lowered her voice. ‘I think he passes off the copies Pa makes as originals, although I can’t prove it. I’ve mentioned it to Pa, but he refuses to believe ill of Duke, and he says he has to sell his work wherever he can. It’s hard enough to find commissions, never mind worrying about the dealer’s reputation.’
‘If that’s the case, Mr Carroll would be well advised to steer clear of Dexter. You ought to be firm with him, Nettie.’
She twisted her lips into a smile. ‘You know my pa, Byron. He won’t listen.’
‘Here comes the waiter,’ he said cheerfully. ‘What are you all having?’
The rest of the meal passed off uneventfully, and they were all in good spirits as they prepared to leave the restaurant, but when Nettie passed the table where the young men were behaving even more badly than before, she could not resist a quick glance in Rufus Norwood’s direction. Once again their eyes met, but it was a fleeting encounter and she left the restaurant accompanied by her friends.
For the first time ever Nettie came home to find her father had returned from the pub early. He was seated by the fire, reading in the light of a single candle. He looked up, scowling. ‘Where have you been? I didn’t give you permission to go out.’
Nettie took off her cape and hung it on a peg behind the door. ‘I’m twenty, Pa. Surely I don’t have to ask you if I can go out for dinner with my friends.’
‘What friends? Of course I should know where you’re going and with whom.’
She crossed the floor and took a seat opposite him, resting her booted feet on the fender. ‘It was Byron’s birthday. He treated us to a meal at the Gaiety, and very nice it was, too.’
‘Well, you should have told me. I was imagining all sorts of things.’
She studied his face and realised with a jolt of surprise that h
e meant what he said. ‘What’s brought this on, Pa?’
‘I should have gone to see Duke myself, Nettie. He has a certain reputation when it comes to women, especially young and pretty ones like yourself.’
‘How could you think that I would have anything to do with someone like him?’
‘I know he’s waiting for the painting, and he can be ruthless when it comes to getting his own way.’
‘Put your mind at ease, Pa. Duke isn’t interested in me. We saw him in the restaurant this evening, and he had Amelie Fabron on his arm. I intend to warn her about him.’
‘That would be courting trouble, my love. She would be sure to tell Dexter and then we would be in an even worse position. Don’t underestimate him, Nettie. He’s charming when it suits him, and he’s always been good to me, but I know that Duke can be vicious if he’s crossed.’
‘Why do you continue to work for him then, Pa?’
‘We have to pay our way, Nettie. All I’m saying is, take care.’
Nettie rose to her feet and kissed him on the forehead. ‘I’ll be very careful, Pa. I’m really tired, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll make myself ready for bed.’
‘I’ll have an early night and be up first thing, ready to complete the painting, and I’ll take it to Dover Street myself. Good night, my dear.’
‘Sweet dreams, Pa, and don’t worry about me. I have Duke’s measure.’
Several days passed, and despite her best efforts, Nettie was finding it almost impossible to have a quiet word with Amelie, but she felt compelled to warn her against getting too close to Duke Dexter. Madame Fabron had nothing for her in the way of mending or alterations, which made it difficult to approach the family without raising their suspicions, and Amelie was always accompanied by one or other of her parents. Besides which, Nettie had problems of her own. Her father had finally taken the completed work to Dover Street and she waited anxiously for his return. He had been gone for three hours, and she could only hope that was a good sign. Despite her misgivings, the money from Dexter should be enough to see them through the next few weeks, and it would give Pa the chance to produce a work of his own. Such talent as his must surely be recognised eventually. Nettie had faith in him, if only he would apply himself instead of waiting for inspiration or a lucrative commission to fall into his lap.
She opened the new notebook and sat with her pencil poised above the blank page, but her thoughts strayed and she found it impossible to concentrate. Her young heroine, the daughter of a country parson, had fallen in love with a wastrel and was on the brink of leaving home to run away with the man her parents had forbidden her ever to see again, but Nettie was having difficulty picturing the scene between father and daughter. She closed her eyes, attempting to bring her characters to life, and failing miserably.
All she could think of was her empty belly and the fact that Ma Burton had threatened them with eviction if the arrears in rent were not forthcoming. Just that morning she had given them until six o’clock to come up with all or part of the money owing. She had not needed to elaborate on what would happen if they could not pay.
Nettie jumped to her feet as the door opened. ‘How did it go, Pa? Did he pay you?’
‘You’d best start packing, my dear. I’m afraid we have to make a move and do it quickly.’ Robert rushed into his studio. ‘We’ll have to travel light, so take only what you need.’
Nettie stood in the doorway, watching helplessly as he began tossing his paints and brushes into a leather bag. ‘What happened? What’s wrong, Pa?’
‘You were right all along, Nettie. Duke has been selling the reproductions as originals and Wegg has reported his dealings to the police. Duke has cut and run and, according to Pendleton, I’d do well to follow suit unless I want to go to prison. I swear I thought what I was doing was legitimate – at least I did until you put doubts in my head.’
‘I know you were taken in by him, Pa. You were always convinced that Duke Dexter was an honest art dealer.’
‘I still find it hard to believe that Duke misled me deliberately. I keep thinking it’s all some horrible mistake, but Pendleton was in the middle of telling me all this when the police arrived. I was questioned by a big burly sergeant, who didn’t seem to believe a word I said. He took my name and address and told me not to leave town.’
‘I did try to warn you, Pa.’
‘I know you did, my love. I didn’t want to think ill of Duke, and I made those copies in good faith, but it seems that Wegg has done his worst. He was determined to ruin Duke and it seems that he’s succeeded.’
‘Think hard, Pa,’ Nettie said urgently. ‘Is there any way the police could prove you were the artist concerned?’
‘I had to leave my painting behind. An expert would soon realise that there are other works in the gallery made by the same copyist, and it won’t take long before the police put two and two together. I’m afraid if I don’t make a run for it, I’ll end up in prison. But you’re innocent and you don’t deserve to be dragged down by me.’
‘That’s nonsense, Pa. We’re in this together.’
‘You’ve stood by me even though you suspected that what I was doing was illegal,’ Robert said with a wry smile. ‘But it’s time you made a life for yourself. I want you to go to your aunt Prudence in Wales. You’d be safe there.’
‘I’d rather be on the run with you, Pa. Aunt Prudence lives on a mountain surrounded by sheep. Anyway, you need me to look after you.’ Nettie went to the dresser and began searching the drawers. ‘Where did I put the passports you obtained for us last year? You remember, Pa. It was for the trip to Paris we never made because we couldn’t afford it.’
Robert pulled a face. ‘Don’t remind me of my past misdeeds, Nettie. That horse was a certainty, or so I thought. We would have visited the Louvre and Montmartre, the artists’ quarter, if that animal had won.’
‘Never mind that now, Pa. I’ve found them.’ Nettie closed the drawer and tucked the documents into her reticule.
‘You’re a good girl, Nettie. I don’t deserve you.’
‘There’s one problem, though. We haven’t any money.’
‘Duke must have a conscience of sorts: he left payment for my last canvas. As luck would have it, Pendleton handed it over before the police arrived.’
‘But you didn’t sign the copies,’ Nettie said slowly. ‘Even experts could be mistaken. If you had a good solicitor you might be able to prove that you knew nothing of Duke’s business deals.’
‘Everyone in the art world knows that I’ve been involved with Dexter for years, and I don’t trust Pendleton to keep his mouth shut. He’ll tell the police anything they want to know in order to save his own skin. I’m afraid there’s no alternative but to leave the country until all this blows over.’
‘Where will we go, Pa?’
‘We’ll head for Dover and catch the ferry to Calais. I don’t know where we’ll go from there. We’ll take it day by day.’
‘I must tell my friends. I can’t leave without saying anything to Byron and the others.’
‘You mustn’t do that, Nettie. It’s not fair to involve them. The less they know, the better. You can see that, can’t you?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Good. Now pack your things. We’ll leave the rent money on the table. I’m not so dishonest that I’d rob an old woman, even a harridan like Ma Burton.’
Nettie experienced a moment of panic as she packed a valise with all her worldly possessions, starting with the manuscript of her rejected novel. Moving in a hurry was nothing new, and leaving rented accommodation had often involved a moonlight flit, but it was the friends she had made in Ma Burton’s house that Nettie would miss the most. She wondered who would help young Biddy when she was at a loss to know how to cope with her invalid mistress. Who would have the patience to mend Madame Fabron’s torn garments? Who would spend hours listening to Ted agonising over his broken romance? Who would play cards with Pip when he was feeling bored, and who would l
augh at Byron’s terrible jokes? Leaving Byron was the hardest thing of all.
‘Come on, Nettie. We must leave now.’
Nettie fastened the leather straps on the valise and took one last look around the room that had been home for almost three years. The hunger and cold were forgotten and she could only remember the good times, and the bonds of friendship that she had made and shared. She would miss these two attic rooms in Covent Garden more than she could ever have thought possible. She had made a home wherever they happened to be in the past, whether it was a smart town house or a leaky attic in Hoxton, but leaving here hurt her heart, and going without saying goodbye to those whom she had grown to love was the most painful part of the whole sorry business.
She followed her father downstairs, tiptoeing past the closed doors, but when Robert let them out into the street they came face to face with Byron and Ted.
‘What’s going on?’ Byron demanded.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Robert said in a stage whisper.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Nettie reached out to grasp Byron’s hand. ‘We have to leave.’
‘Why?’ Ted asked. ‘If it’s the rent, we could help out.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Byron added hastily. ‘We’ll chip in, Mr Carroll.’
Robert shook his head. ‘Thanks, but the rent is the least of our problems. Say goodbye, Nettie.’ He strode off, leaving Nettie little alternative but to follow him.
‘Where are you going?’ Byron fell into step beside her. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Victoria Station,’ she said breathlessly. ‘You don’t want to be involved in this, Byron. Please keep out of it, for your sake if not for mine.’ She hurried on, but Byron kept pace with them.
‘I’m not giving up until you tell me what’s happened.’
‘I can’t tell you.’ Nettie broke into a run in an attempt to keep up with her father’s long strides, but she was hampered by the weight of her case.
‘Let me have that.’ Byron took it from her hand, but Robert had come to a halt as he reached the Strand, and he stood on the edge of the kerb.