Mermaids Singing (10 page)

Rackham leaned back in his seat, smiling lazily. ‘Iris is desperate for a husband and she’ll believe me rather than you any day. As for Sir Desmond, I can tell him intimate little details about you that only a husband would know. How do you think he would react to that?’

Bella’s heart gave an uncomfortable thud and her pulse began to race, but she raised her chin and looked Rackham in the eye. ‘I hear your gambling debts are threatening to bankrupt you. You would lose a rich wife and have nothing to gain.’

Rackham’s eyes sparkled appreciatively. ‘I love it when you fight back. I can’t stand mealy-mouthed, timid little women. I’m a gambler, my dear; I’ll risk it all for you. Doesn’t that excite and flatter you, Bella?’

‘It revolts me, if you must know.’

Rackham slid his arm around her waist and put his lips close to her ear. ‘It excites you, admit it.’

Wriggling out of his grasp, Bella rapped him across the knuckles with her fan. ‘I hate you.’

‘I may be a fool but I can’t get you out of my mind.’ Rackham leaned back in his chair, his eyes clouded with desire. ‘I’ll not rest until I have you again, Bella.’

‘Never,’ Bella said, feeling a bubble of hysteria rise to her throat. ‘They’re coming back – I can hear them. For pity’s sake, Giles, stop this now.’

‘Never!’ Rackham said, mimicking the inflection in her voice, his eyes dancing mischievously. ‘You’ll agree to come to me in my rooms in Half Moon Street or I’ll kiss you now, in front of the entire audience of the Royal Opera House.’

As he leaned across her, Bella caught the once so familiar scent of his body – lemons, sandalwood, Macassar oil and musk. The smell was so evocative that it made her feel weak and dazed, but also furious. She pushed him away just as Iris opened the door and entered, bristling with annoyance.

Apparently unruffled, Rackham leapt to his feet and held out a chair. ‘My dear, Iris, how was your friend?’

Iris glared suspiciously at Bella and sat down, fanning herself. ‘Eustacia is very well and she wants to meet you, Giles. In fact she couldn’t understand why you didn’t accompany me to her box.’

Rackham sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. ‘It wouldn’t have been proper to leave Lady Mableton all on her own, now would it, my love?’

Behind Iris’s rigid back, Rackham cast Bella a mocking glance. Conscious of the colour rushing to her cheeks, Bella turned her head away.

Sir Desmond staggered back to the box just as the curtain went up on the second act, and he slumped down onto the chair next to Bella. A fine tracery of scarlet veins flushed his face and he smelt strongly of brandy. ‘I’m not in the mood for these damned warblers bellowing away in a foreign language,’ he complained in a loud voice. ‘I’ve sent for the carriage. We’re going home.’

Bella’s heart sank as she recognised the hot look in his eyes. ‘We can’t leave in the middle of the opera.’

‘Can’t we, though?’ Desmond got to his feet rather unsteadily and jerked Bella from her seat. ‘Giles will bring Iris home, won’t you, my boy?’

The next day, after a season of excessive indulgence, Sir Desmond was confined to his room by a severe attack of gout, giving Bella a legitimate excuse to cancel dinner parties at the house and refuse the invitations that arrived in the post. The doctor visited daily. He shook his head over Sir Desmond’s chronic condition, warning him that if he continued to drink port and brandy, and did not follow the strict eating regime of plain food washed down with weak tea or water, then he could not be held responsible for Sir Desmond’s failure to recover. Needless to say, his advice was ignored and Bella gave up trying to persuade Desmond to moderate his habits.

Freed from his nocturnal visits, she found it easier to be in his company, spending each morning helping him go through his constituency papers and writing letters that he dictated. Every afternoon she spent with Leonie and Kitty, driving in the carriage if the weather was bad and walking in the park when it was fine. In this way, she made certain that she was out of the house when Rackham paid his daily calls on Iris.

The grip of the bitter winter weather gradually eased into a mild and balmy spring and, after months of waiting, a telegram arrived for Desmond bearing the news that Edward was almost fully recovered and on his way home. Desmond seemed moderately pleased that his son was safe but Bella’s heart sank at the prospect of Edward’s imminent return. She dreaded meeting yet another Mableton; he was bound to be like his father or, worse still, like Iris.

Three weeks later, and with no definite news of Edward’s impending arrival, Bella had seized the opportunity to escape from the house in Dover Street for an hour or two by taking Leonie and Kitty to St James’s Park. She sat on a bench by the lake, watching Leonie and Kitty feeding the ducks. Kitty had gained at least an inch in height since she had been put to work in the nursery, and her hair had grown back into a mass of short curls with the sheen of a conker. There was almost no comparison now with the scrawny little waif who had come to work as a scullery maid. With a little kindness and care, Kitty had blossomed into a confident, happy girl who would soon be sixteen and Leonie adored her. Bella smiled as she listened to Leonie’s squeals of delight as Kitty threw crumbs to the ducks. Kitty would be an excellent replacement for Nanny Smith who was, for some unknown reason, becoming increasingly unreliable and overemotional.

Relaxing in the dappled shade beneath the canopy of fresh green leaves, Bella was startled as a shadow fell across the path in front of her. Shading her eyes against the sun, she looked up to find a tall, thin man dressed in the uniform of an army officer, standing in front of her.

‘Would you mind awfully if I sat down on your bench?’ he asked in a deep, slightly gruff, but pleasant voice.

Bella saw that he was leaning heavily on an ebony cane and she moved up a little, making a space. ‘No, of course not.’

He sat down, staring absently at the water, and Bella couldn’t help stealing a glance at him. He was deeply suntanned and what she could see of his hair beneath his military cap was light brown, streaked almost white at the tips by exposure to the sun. As if he sensed that she was staring, he turned his head and Bella found herself looking into smiling eyes that were an incredible shade of hazel, flecked with gold.

‘I – I’m sorry,’ Bella said hastily. ‘I didn’t mean to stare. I was just wondering if you had come home from the war in the Sudan. It’s really none of my business.’

‘Don’t apologise. It’s a natural assumption and you’re quite right. I’ve just arrived.’

‘And you’re going home. How wonderful for you and your family.’

His smile faded and he stared into the distance. ‘I doubt if I’ll get much of a welcome, but yes, I am going home although I’m putting off the moment for as long as possible.’

Bella swallowed an inexplicable lump in her throat as her heart went out to him. She wanted to reach out and take him by the hand but she stopped herself just in time. ‘That’s so sad, but I know exactly what you mean.’

He turned his head, his eyes bright with interest and surprise. ‘You do?’

Bella felt herself blushing. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘I can’t believe that anyone as beautiful as you wouldn’t be totally adored and cherished by her family.’

His words might have sounded like blatant flattery coming from someone like Rackham, but this man had an honest, open face and candid eyes that convinced Bella of his sincerity. She was conscious of a huge surge of physical attraction that thrilled and scared her. And he felt it too, she was certain of it. This was mad, dangerous and it had to stop right now. ‘That’s my daughter,’ Bella said, pointing to Leonie who was attempting to hand-feed a wary pigeon.

‘You’re married?’

Bella’s breath caught in her throat as she heard a note of disappointment creep into his voice. ‘I am.’

Getting to his feet with the aid of his stick, he took off his hat and his hair shone in the sun like a halo; he stood to attention, bowing from the waist. ‘May I introduce myself, Ma’am? Edward Mableton, at your service.’

Hearing her mistress’s cry of surprise, Kitty spun around to see Lady Mableton jump to her feet, clutching her hand to her breast. The tall army officer seemed to be just as taken aback and, for a moment they stood, mutely staring at each other. The gentleman appeared to recover first and his taut features relaxed into a charming smile that, although it was not directed at her, went straight to Kitty’s heart. It seemed to have the same effect on Lady Mableton, who hesitated for a moment, and then tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. Slowly, they began to walk, their heads inclined towards each other, so rapt in each other’s company that they seemed to have forgotten that anyone but themselves existed.

Kitty picked up Leonie and put her in her favourite toy of the moment, a galloping gig with two wooden horses that pranced when the chair was pushed along. Leonie gave a token protest and called for her mama, but quietened immediately when Kitty put the reins in her chubby little hands. Following them at a discreet distance, Kitty could see that they seemed to have a lot to talk about. He must, she thought, be a very old friend.

When they reached the house in Dover Street, Kitty was astonished to see that, instead of taking his leave and walking away, the officer rang the doorbell. Even more astounding, when Warner opened the door, his eyes widened with surprise and then, strangest of all, he actually smiled. Following them into the vestibule, Kitty lifted Leonie from the gig and, as Bob came to wheel it away, she caught him by the sleeve.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Don’t you know?’ Bob grinned at her, jerking his head in the direction of the officer. ‘That’s Captain Edward, Sir Desmond’s son, come home from the war in the Sudan where he’d been wounded in battle. He’s a hero.’

Bursting with the news, Kitty took Leonie by the hand, leading her up the three flights of stairs to the nursery. No wonder her ladyship had looked surprised and pleased at the safe return of her stepson. He was a handsome young man and he didn’t seem to be anything at all like his sister, Miss Iris, and bore no resemblance at all to Sir Desmond. He must, she thought, take after his poor dead mother, while Miss Iris was definitely very much like her father. Kitty had learned to be very careful when it came to Miss Iris. You never quite knew what sort of mood she would be in; she could be happy and smiling one minute, especially if Mr Rackham was there, but she could turn in a moment, sour as yesterday’s milk.

Leonie’s chubby legs made climbing the stairs a slow process and, growing impatient, Kitty carried her the rest of the way. Kicking and screaming, Leonie made it clear that she did not appreciate this indignity and Kitty was relieved to set her down on the nursery floor. She was about to pass on the news that Captain Edward had come home safe and sound, but she stopped short. Nanny Smith was hunched in her rocking chair by the empty hearth, with her hands covering her face and great sobs shaking her whole body.

‘You must not cry,’ Leonie said, toddling over to Nanny and tugging at her apron string. ‘Stop it, I say.’

Scooping Leonie up in her arms, Kitty sat her at the nursery table, where afternoon tea was laid out ready. ‘Nanny’s not well, Miss Leonie. You eat up your tea like a good girl and then I’ll read you a story.’

Leonie snatched a slice of bread and butter and crammed it into her mouth.

‘Good girl,’ Kitty said, filling her beaker with milk. ‘You eat up while I look after poor Nanny.’ Making sure that Leonie had enough food to keep her busy for a while, Kitty went over to Nanny. ‘What’s wrong?’

Nanny Smith rocked backwards and forwards shaking her head. ‘I’m ruined, ruined.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Kitty said, taking her by the shoulders. ‘You’re frightening Miss Leonie.’

Hiccuping and sniffing, Nanny wiped her eyes on her apron. ‘It’ll be the workhouse for me now. My dad won’t take me in and I’ll be dismissed without a character.’

Kitty stared at Nanny’s swelling belly and wondered how she could have missed the signs; she had seen them often enough with Maggie. ‘You’re in the family way?’

‘Yes, are you satisfied? Now you’ll get my job and I’ll be out on the streets.’

‘But Bob will marry you, won’t he?’

Nanny shook her head. ‘I dunno, I haven’t told him yet. He’ll have to leave service if we get married, then what will we do?’

‘You’ll manage,’ Kitty said, trying to sound positive. ‘My sister, Maggie, has five nippers. It’s hard but they get by somehow.’

‘You don’t know anything about anything,’ stormed Nanny, glaring at her, red-eyed. ‘You’re the mistress’s pet now, but you just wait until you fall for what some bloke tells you and you let him have his way. You’re no better than me, so shut up.’

Kitty shuddered inwardly at the thought of being intimate with any man. Sid’s probing fingers and mask-like expression as he tore at her clothes flashed before her eyes. She had not been near Sugar Yard since that day and, even in the relative safety of Tanner’s Passage, Kitty always walked warily, jumping at shadows.

Looking into Nanny’s woebegone face, swollen and ugly from her bout of crying, Kitty felt nothing but pity. Even though it had been grudgingly given, Nanny had helped her a lot during the past few months. She had been assiduous in teaching her manners and correcting her speech, although Kitty knew quite well that this had been done more out of irritation than a conscious attempt to educate her. Even so, Kitty was grateful and had been eager to learn. If she could improve herself it would help her get work in a dress shop or, her latest and most burning ambition, to be Lady Mableton’s personal maid. After all, Miss Lane was getting on a bit; she must be fifty, if she was a day, and that was very old. Perhaps, one day soon, she’d retire to a cottage on Sir Desmond’s country estate in Essex.

‘You must speak to Bob,’ Kitty said earnestly. ‘Tell him the truth and find out if he means to stand by you.’

Nanny shot her a suspicious look. ‘Why would you care what happens to me?’

‘It could happen to anyone,’ Kitty said, suppressing a shudder. ‘Us women have got to stand together, like them in that Women’s Suffrage movement.’