Nettie's Secret

by Dilly Court

  ‘Nettie? Is anything wrong?’ Rufus stared at her, frowning.

  ‘May I come in?’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’ve just had some wonderful news and I must share it with someone.’

  ‘Of course.’ He stood aside, and she hurried into the parlour where a fire burned in the grate, and candles had been lit in the wall sconces. It was warm and cosy, especially when compared to the austere chill of the attic rooms. The smell of medication that had lingered after the Lorimers had moved out was now replaced with the tasty aroma of fish and chips, a touch of vinegar and the tempting scent of hot coffee.

  ‘I was just about to eat,’ Rufus said, smiling. ‘There’s too much for one.’

  Nettie thought of the ham roll she was to share with her father and the mug of coffee that would be cooling rapidly by the time she reached home, and her stomach growled with hunger. ‘Thank you,’ she said eagerly. ‘If you’re sure you can spare some.’

  ‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable.’ Rufus cut the large piece of fish in half and transferred it from the newspaper to a plate, adding a generous portion of chips. He passed it to Nettie as she took a seat opposite him. ‘What was it that you wanted to tell me?’

  She handed him the letter. ‘Read it for yourself. I can hardly believe it, so tell me I’m not dreaming.’

  He studied the document, looked up and smiled. ‘Congratulations! This really is something to celebrate, but you didn’t tell me you were a writer.’

  ‘I thought people would laugh at me. It’s been my secret for such a long time, and I was beginning to think I would never get anything published.’

  ‘This is a generous advance; they must think highly of you, and it’s obviously a very good story.’

  Nettie popped a piece of fried fish into her mouth. ‘This is so tasty.’

  ‘We should be eating out and toasting your success in champagne.’

  ‘I’ll only be a success if people buy my book,’ Nettie said, spearing a chip on her fork. ‘But now I can afford the rent, or at least I will when the publishers pay me.’

  ‘If there’s any delay I could lend you the money. You only have to ask.’

  Nettie shook her head. ‘Thank you, but Ma Burton will believe me if I show her the letter.’

  ‘Why do you want to keep on good terms with that harpy? I’ve met many difficult people in my life, but she frightens me.’

  ‘I need her help in order to track down a man who’s borne a grudge against Duke for years. I think Samson Wegg would take great delight in seeing him get his comeuppance. All our problems have been caused by Duke Dexter and he belongs behind bars.’ She bowed her head over her plate and concentrated on eating.

  ‘Your father is a good artist, but a bad businessman.’ Rufus held up his hand as Nettie opened her mouth to protest. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s true, and you’ve been forced to shoulder the burden of poor choices and his inability to handle his finances for far too long.’

  Nettie knew what he said was true, but it was not an easy thing to admit. ‘Even so, he’s my father and I have a duty to look after him.’ She pushed her plate away, and stood up. ‘Thank you for the food, but I’d better be on my way. I was supposed to go out and fetch our supper, and Pa will still be hungry.’

  Rufus rose to his feet and handed her the letter. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, and I’m flattered that you chose to share your secret with me.’

  Nettie eyed him warily. ‘Byron knows about my writing. I should have gone to him first.’

  ‘So why didn’t you?’ Rufus spoke softly but there was an intensity in his voice that made Nettie back away.

  ‘I’m not a helpless little woman, Rufus. I don’t need a man to guide me and I intend to make a success of my life. I’ll look after Pa, who brought me up on his own. He may not be the best businessman in London, but he’s my pa and I love him. I have to go now or the coffee stall will be closed.’ She left before he had a chance to respond, and she hurried from the building, still clutching the precious letter in her hand.

  The stall keeper was just about to pack up when Nettie arrived and he greeted her with a cheery grin. ‘Haven’t seen you around for a while, girl. I thought you’d got too grand for the likes of us.’

  ‘I’ve been away, but I’m back for good now, Bert. Have you got a ham roll left?’

  ‘You’re in luck. Just the one? And a mug of coffee, of course. You can bring the empty back tomorrow. I trust you, Nettie.’

  She waited while he filled the tin mug and added a spoonful of sugar. ‘Ta, Bert. You’re a toff.’

  ‘Good night, girl. Don’t speak to any strange men on the way home.’

  Nettie quickened her pace and let herself into the house. There was no one about and she hurried up the stairs. She let herself into their living room.

  ‘Pa, I’ve brought your supper. I’m sorry I took so …’ She gazed round at the empty room. The fire had gone out and there was no sign of her father. She checked his room, but it was in total darkness and the smell of oil paint and turpentine wafted out in a thick cloud. Nettie went back into the main room, and, having put the ham roll on the table, she sat down on the hearth to take advantage of the last warmth from the embers. She knew where he had gone – he would be in the Lamb and Flag, drinking ale with his friends.

  Next morning Nettie was waiting outside the offices of Dorning and Lacey before they opened, and she was the first to enter when the clerk unbolted the door. She had to wait for almost an hour before anyone was prepared to speak to her, but she was ushered into the office of no lesser person than Mr Dorning, and they were joined by Mr Lacey. Nettie was quite overwhelmed by their praise for her novel and when they presented her with the contract she asked for time to read through it, receiving a pat on the back from Dorning. She studied the clauses in detail, and if she found anything difficult to understand she was not afraid to ask questions.

  ‘I wish all our authors were as committed as you, Miss Carroll.’ Mr Lacey handed her a pen and ink. ‘Sign on the dotted line, if you please. Welcome to our company. Together we will make you a household name, equal to any of our famed lady novelists.’

  Nettie signed and the two gentlemen also put their names to the document. She waited, hopefully, and then Mr Dorning produced a banker’s draft for a sum of money that made her gasp. It was not huge but, having lived so long from hand to mouth, it seemed like a fortune. It was the first money she had ever earned, and there was no need for Pa to know exactly how much she had received. If she paid the rent first, and put some aside for housekeeping, she could in all honesty tell him that what remained was all she possessed. Smiling to herself, Nettie set off for home.

  Ma Burton’s beady eyes glittered like boot buttons when Nettie handed her the rent a week early. ‘Did you rob a bank, girl?’

  Nettie shook her head. ‘No, this was money earned honestly.’

  ‘Tell that to the marines,’ Ma said, curling her lip.

  ‘Believe it or not – it doesn’t matter to me.’

  ‘Not that it bothers me any. Let’s hope there’s more where that came from.’ Ma was about to slam the door when Nettie put her foot over the threshold.

  ‘I need a favour, Ma.’

  ‘Do you indeed? There’s a surprise. I suppose you’re going to tell me that the cops are after your pa again.’

  ‘No, but it’s to do with Mr Wegg. I need to get in touch with him urgently.’

  ‘Now that is a surprise. What’s he done this time?’

  ‘Nothing, Ma. I want to hire him to find someone.’

  Ma’s chins wobbled in unison as a deep chuckle shook her frame. ‘Well, I never! Anyway, what makes you think I’d know where to find the old codger?’

  ‘I know you have contacts, Ma.’

  ‘That’s true. My boys keep me up to date with what’s going on round here, but it’ll cost you.’

  ‘I don’t expect something for nothing.’

  Ma winked and closed the door. Nettie removed her foot just in
time to prevent it being bruised. Satisfied that the Burton boys would peach on their own mother if the price was right, Nettie headed for the stairs, intending to tell her father that she had signed the contract with Dorning and Lacey. She hesitated outside Lisette’s door, wondering whether to apologise to Rufus for her abrupt departure the previous evening, and she was about to knock when the door opened.

  ‘Nettie. How did it go with the publisher?’

  His smile seemed genuine without a hint of reserve. Whether it was deliberate or not, Rufus had a way of making her feel attractive and desirable, and his warm glance set her pulse racing.

  ‘I signed a contract and they want me to go through the manuscript they rejected, making a few alterations, and then they’ll read it again.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news. I knew you could do it.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘You are the same girl who was prepared to walk miles in order to fetch bread for your friends. You didn’t flinch when you had to dig into my flesh to remove the lead shot. I knew you weren’t going to give up easily.’

  ‘Oh!’ She stared at him nonplussed. ‘It seems you know me better than I know myself.’

  He chuckled and proffered his arm. ‘I wouldn’t assume so much, but I doubt if you’ve had breakfast and neither have I. Will you allow me to treat you to bacon and eggs, or a nice fat kipper?’

  Nettie hesitated. ‘I really ought to go upstairs and tell Pa he need not worry about the rent.’

  ‘You have all day to do that, and I was going to ask for your help.’

  ‘My help? In what way?’

  ‘I think I’ve found suitable premises for our London office, and I’ve got my eye on a house in Doughty Street, but I would value a second opinion.’

  ‘You’ll be moving on soon?’ Nettie tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.

  ‘Yes, of course. This was only a temporary measure. Will you come with me?’

  His smile was disarming and she found it impossible to refuse. ‘Of course I will, but could we have breakfast first? I’m absolutely famished.’

  After a hearty breakfast in a nearby pub, Nettie and Rufus walked to Doughty Street where they met the agent who let them into the house. Nettie was immediately charmed by everything she saw, from the basement kitchen to the small attic rooms, suitable as the agent claimed for a cook/housekeeper and a maid of all work. The rest of the accommodation consisted of two large rooms on each floor as well as a much smaller one overlooking the tiny back garden. The drawing room and the dining room, which were situated at the front of the building, were very pleasant with tall windows making them light and airy, and polished wooden floors that needed only the addition of a carpet and some rugs to add a finishing touch.

  ‘Do you intend to rent the whole house?’ Nettie asked as they reached the ground floor after a thorough inspection of all the rooms. ‘Surely it’s too large for a single gentleman?’

  ‘Perhaps I don’t intend to remain single for much longer.’

  A chill ran down her spine – so what his mother had said was true. ‘You’re engaged to be married?’

  ‘Not yet. I haven’t plucked up the courage to propose.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought you were shy.’

  ‘I’m not, and maybe that’s my problem. Perhaps I take too much for granted in assuming that the lady will accept my offer of love and protection.’

  ‘Surely she has an inkling?’ Nettie remembered only too well Jane Norwood’s comment about the Honourable Miss Williams, the heiress and ideal bride for her son.

  ‘I would hope so.’

  Nettie eyed him warily. His expression gave nothing away, and she felt the colour rush to her cheeks. ‘I really should be getting back,’ she said hastily. ‘I have a lot to do.’

  ‘But what do you think of the house?’

  ‘Quite charming. I’m sure if you bring the lady here it will help to persuade her. Now I must go, Rufus. Thank you for the breakfast, and good luck with the Honourable Miss Williams.’

  Nettie went to open the front door and stepped outside into the pale wintry sunshine. She glanced up and down the tree-lined street and spotted a cab approaching.

  Rufus hurried after her. ‘Wait a moment. You have it all wrong. Let me take you home.’

  ‘It’s all right, thank you.’ Nettie raised her hand to hail the cab. ‘You’re forgetting I’m a woman of means now. I can pay my own cab fare. Covent Garden, please, cabby.’ She climbed into the hansom and settled down on the seat. She had maintained a calm exterior but inside she was fuming. Men like Rufus Norwood breezed their way through life without giving any consideration to the feelings of others. One minute he was being charming and making her feel that she was the most important person in the world, and then it turned out that he was simply using her to get a woman’s perspective on the home he was preparing for the wealthy heiress that his parents wanted him to marry. She was too angry to feel upset – that might come later.

  Robert was sitting disconsolately in his studio, facing a blank canvas. He looked up and managed a weary smile. ‘What now, dear? Are we going to be evicted at the end of the week?’

  Nettie opened her reticule and took out her purse. ‘Hold out your hand, Pa.’

  ‘Did they pay you?’

  She placed a sovereign in his outstretched hand. ‘That’s for you, and I’ve settled up with Ma Burton. We’re all right here for another month.’

  ‘Thank you, Nettie, although it shames me to be dependent on my daughter. I should be supporting you, but I have no commissions now that I’ve been forced to sever my connection with Duke.’

  ‘It had to happen, Pa. He needs bringing to justice.’

  ‘I still find it hard to believe that he would cheat me. I really thought that he had changed his ways and I could trust him.’

  ‘Didn’t you wonder why he wanted such exact copies of famous works of art?’

  ‘I took his word as a gentleman that what we were doing was above board, and now I need a new patron.’

  ‘Then perhaps you’d better go out and look for one, Pa.’ Nettie spoke more severely than she had meant to, but her patience was stretched to the limit.

  Robert rose to his feet. ‘Don’t speak to me like that, Nettie. I am your father.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said angrily. ‘And sitting up here feeling sorry for yourself won’t get us anywhere. You have great talent, Pa.’

  ‘No, Nettie. I am a brilliant copyist, if I say so myself, but I’m afraid I will never make the Royal Academy with my own work.’

  Nettie was momentarily lost for words, but a knock on the door saved her from replying. She went to open it and Rufus stepped over the threshold without waiting to be invited. He doffed his top hat. ‘I apologise for barging in, but I’ve come to see your father, Nettie.’

  She turned her head away, unable to look him in the eye. ‘He’s in his room.’

  Robert emerged from his studio. ‘What can I do for you, Norwood? If it’s a complaint about your mother’s portrait, I’m afraid it was the best I could do.’

  ‘No, sir. As far as I know both my parents were delighted with your work. I’ve come with a business proposition.’

  Nettie was suddenly alert. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘As you know, I’m opening the London office, and my main job will be to promote and advertise my father’s ales to a wider clientele. In fact I intend to make his beers and stouts known throughout the country.’

  ‘How does that concern me?’ Robert asked.

  ‘I want posters printed to advertise our products. With colour lithography these can be very eye-catching, and I think you might be just the man to create the designs.’ He turned to Nettie. ‘And there should be memorable slogans to promote the different range of ales. I wonder if you might be interested in working on these with me. Of course, I would pay for both your services.’

  ‘You are offering me a job?’ Nettie said slowly. ‘Is that what you’ve intended all along?’r />
  He shook his head. ‘No, not at all, but it came to me during my cab ride from Doughty Street. You and your father have experience of working in the hop garden. You’ve seen the brewery and tasted the ales. Who better to advertise Norwood’s Brewery?’

  ‘But I’m an artist,’ Robert said mildly.

  ‘And that’s what we need. You would be paid well and you would have a studio of your own, when I’ve found a suitable office premises. What do you say?’

  Robert glanced at Nettie. ‘What do you think, dear?’

  ‘I think it sounds like something you might enjoy, Pa.’ Nettie chose her words carefully, avoiding meeting Rufus’s gaze.

  ‘And what about you, Nettie?’ Rufus asked quietly. ‘Writing slogans wouldn’t take too much of your time, but I would value your help.’

  Nettie shrugged. ‘I suppose I could.’

  ‘I accept your offer gladly, my boy.’ Smiling broadly, Robert shook Rufus by the hand.

  ‘Excellent. I think we ought to go out to dinner to celebrate.’ Rufus turned to Nettie. ‘I think there has been a slight misunderstanding between us.’

  Nettie met his gaze with a cool glance. ‘If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day and I have a headache.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Nettie. Surely you won’t pass up the opportunity for a glass or two of champagne and a tasty supper.’

  ‘You go, Pa,’ Nettie said firmly.

  ‘I’m afraid my daughter won’t be persuaded, but I am ready when you are, my boy.’ Robert shrugged on his overcoat and placed his top hat on his head at a rakish angle. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘I hope you feel better in the morning,’ Rufus said in a low voice. ‘But I really would like to clear up any misunderstanding between us, and I want to show you the new office. Will you come?’

  His tone was persuasive and Nettie was too tired to argue. Her head had begun to ache and all she wanted now was to be left alone. She nodded. ‘All right.’