The Little Angel

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘I was just about to, but she was too quick for me.’ Kitty smiled at Max, then quickly departed. She took Tallulah out into the garden every day to see young Arthur now and like Kitty he was besotted with the little dog.

  Once they had gone Ruby frowned as a thought occurred to her. ‘Do you think Richard Fitzherbert will go to war?’

  ‘I think it’s highly unlikely that he’ll volunteer – let’s put it that way,’ Max answered sceptically.

  Ruby breathed a sigh of relief and they went on to speak of other things until Max left to keep an appointment with one of his clients.

  Kitty was outside with Arthur by then and the two of them were laughing as they watched Tallulah bounding about the garden. She was like a little spring lamb and Kitty couldn’t imagine being without her now. Tallulah had become her confidante, for as close as she was to Maggie there were some things that Kitty just couldn’t confide to her. Late at night when she had been entertaining one of Richard’s friends she would lie on her bed and pour her heart out to Tallulah, who seemed to understand the deep sense of shame that Kitty was experiencing. The little dog would lick away her tears and snuggle close to her as Kitty sobbed into her soft fur.

  ‘But I know he loves me really, despite what he makes me do,’ Kitty would whisper to her, trying to convince herself. ‘And someday soon he’ll ask me to marry him and I’ll be able to put all this behind me.’ She loved Richard so much that she had to tell herself this, otherwise she feared that she might lose the will to live.

  Maggie joined them then to inform Kitty, ‘The dress you ordered yesterday has just been delivered. I’ve unpacked it and hung it in your room.’

  ‘Thank you, Maggie.’ Kitty had treated herself to a dress in the very latest fashion, with a dropped waist and a straight skirt that reached to the ankles. However, the new dress was the last thing on her mind at present. Like Ruby, she was concerned that Richard might think of joining the Army. The Secretary of State for War, Field Marshall Earl Kitchener, had had posters stating YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU plastered all across the city, and in central London alone the response at the recruiting offices had been so successful that mounted police had been deployed to hold the crowds in check. What if Richard were to take it into his head to join? She decided she would speak to him about his intentions that very night. He had promised her that this evening would be just for the two of them and she was looking forward to it. However, just before six o’clock Richard telephoned and left a message with the maid telling Kitty that he had been unexpectedly called away for the night and so unfortunately would have to cancel their arrangement.

  The maid passed it on to Maggie who was secretly pleased when she delivered it. Kitty was looking tired and she thought a quiet night in would do her the world of good. They were few and far between at the moment, although now that Maggie had Tallulah to keep her company while Kitty was out, she didn’t get nearly so lonely.

  ‘Oh!’ Kitty was disappointed at first, but soon decided that it would be nice if she and Maggie had an evening in together. She felt guilty for abandoning her friend so much, but she had been so busy that she hadn’t really had much choice. Now suddenly the thought of a long leisurely soak in the bath and an early night didn’t seem so bad after all.

  Kitty left the door to the bathroom open while she bathed and she and Maggie chatted through the door.

  ‘I was reading that there’s going to be a terrible shortage of nurses and doctors as well as young men,’ Maggie remarked. ‘A lot of them are going to be shipped over to the field hospitals they’re erecting in Belgium and France by all accounts.’

  Kitty sighed. She was heartily sick of hearing about the war. It seemed to be the main topic of conversation on everyone’s lips.

  ‘And they reckon that women will be called on to take over men’s jobs as well,’ Maggie chattered on.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Factory jobs, driving – anything the men did, really. Someone’s got to do them, haven’t they, otherwise the country will grind to a halt.’

  Kitty frowned. She couldn’t quite imagine such a thing. A woman’s place had always been in the home, keeping house and bringing up her family, and it was hard to imagine a woman doing a man’s job. But then she supposed that time would tell. If what Lord Kitchener had forecast came true, the war would be over by Christmas and the men would all be returning home again.

  She came out of the bathroom eventually to find Maggie staring broodily from the window down into the garden and she asked, ‘Are you all right, Maggie?’

  ‘What? Oh yes – yes, thank you. I was just thinking … I wonder what’s happening back in Nuneaton. Do you think anyone we know will have joined up?’

  ‘I should imagine so.’ Kitty began to rub her wet hair with the towel. ‘Ben may well have done, although I’m not sure if Tom, George and your father would be too old?’

  As the closed look came down in Maggie’s eyes at the mention of her father, Kitty could have bitten her tongue out. Maggie very rarely mentioned the Daweses; it was if she had closed the door on that chapter of her life.

  ‘Perhaps you should write to Sunday and Tom to see what’s going on there?’ Maggie suggested, but now it was Kitty who stubbornly clamped her mouth shut. ‘Why should I?’ she said. But it hurt her to say the cruel words.

  Maggie shrugged, at a loss as to what to say. It truly felt that she and Kitty had only each other left from their former life now, but that suited her just fine. It was such a wonderful relief, not having to lie awake fretting about whether Victor, her adopted father, would sneak into her room during the night to do unspeakable things to her. Sweat broke out on her brow just thinking about it and she hastily said, ‘Why don’t we go for a nice stroll? We could take Tallulah, she’d like that. Then we can come back and you can catch up on some of the sleep you’ve missed.’

  It sounded very appealing so Kitty nodded and began to get ready. Sometime later with Tallulah on her lead they set off, strolling arm in arm. It was a beautiful evening with a light breeze, and Kitty felt herself relaxing as they meandered along the streets of Chelsea. Kitty bent at one point to untangle Tallulah’s lead from around her leg and as she did so, Maggie saw Richard’s car cruising towards them. She frowned. He said that he had been called out of town – so what was he still doing here in the area? More to the point, where was he going?

  He passed by without noticing them and Maggie was relieved. This was a case of least said soonest mended as far as she was concerned. She was enjoying having Kitty to herself for a time and didn’t want anything to spoil it. Even so, once again she had to question Richard Fitzherbert’s commitment to Kitty.

  ‘There, that’s better, isn’t it?’ Kitty straightened and smiled at Tallulah. ‘I shall be so pleased when you get used to walking on a lead.’

  The dog merely wagged her tail and tugged ahead again. Everything and everywhere was so new and exciting, and she wanted to go everywhere and see and smell everything all at once. In fact, people seeing her and Kitty might wonder who was taking whom for a walk.

  Maggie linked arms with Kitty and they went on their way with Kitty blissfully unaware that Richard had been caught out in yet another lie. The evening was drawing in a little when they returned to Brunswick Villa to find Ruby entertaining her latest gentleman friend in the drawing room.

  ‘Ah, Kitty darling,’ Ruby cooed as the two girls walked past the open door. ‘Do come and meet Mr Wallace.’

  Kitty reluctantly passed Tallulah’s lead to Maggie and entered the room.

  ‘Teddy, dear, this is my niece, Kitty Nightingale. You must have heard of her. She’s making quite a name for herself around the music halls. Voice like an angel, darling – nearly as good as mine.’

  The smarmy little man bent and kissed the back of Kitty’s hand. She suppressed a shudder. His hair was plastered to his head with Macassar oil and he reminded her a little too closely for comfort of some of the ‘friends’ that Richard insisted she should entertain.


  ‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ she said politely, tugging her hand from his. ‘But now if you will excuse me, I was hoping for an early night.’ Without giving Ruby a chance to object she quickly slipped from the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Ruby’s cheeks had been rose-red, and Kitty feared it wasn’t just down to the amount of rouge she wore. Her drinking was out of control now; she would drink wine with her breakfast and continue for most of the day, but then shame-faced, Kitty knew that she was hardly in a position to criticise. She herself had taken to having a stiff drink on the evenings when Richard wanted her to entertain. She had found that it calmed her nerves and helped her to relax as she lay in the men’s arms. Every time, she would close her eyes and try to pretend it was Richard. That was the only way she could endure what they did to her, although she had to admit that the gifts they bestowed on her were nice. She had a drawer full of expensive jewellery now and a selection of the very finest French perfumes, but none of them really meant anything to her. All she cared about were the times when she and Richard were alone together. Sighing, she took the stairs two at a time to find Maggie and Tallulah waiting for her in her room.

  ‘Why don’t you treat yourself to an early night too?’ Kitty suggested as she scooped Tallulah into her arms.

  ‘Actually I think I will, if you’re sure you don’t need me.’ Maggie covered her mouth with her hand to hide a yawn, then after pecking Kitty’s cheek she went away, leaving the other girl alone. Kitty’s thoughts turned to Richard and her stomach started to churn. Would he feel the need to sign up and go to war? She wasn’t sure how she would cope without him if he did. And now, because he had cancelled their date, she would have to pass a sleepless night before she found out what his intentions were. With a sigh, she began to take the pins from her hair, blissfully unaware of Tallulah, whose tail was wagging furiously as she systematically chewed up yet another of Kitty’s satin shoes on the floor behind her.

  Chapter Forty-One

  With a heavy heart, Sunday stood at the drawing-room window at Treetops watching Tom galloping down the drive on one of the stallions he had reared. Astride a horse his limp was unnoticeable and he cut a dashing figure. When he wasn’t helping George with jobs that needed doing about the house or gardens he spent most of his time in the stables now, and Treetops had become known as one of the finest stud farms in the country. Tom had bred most of the horses stabled there and Sunday knew that he was devastated to learn that the majority of them would be taken to war and would probably never return.

  It was heart-breaking too, when she thought of all the time and effort he had invested in them. When a horse was due to foal he had been known to spend whole nights in the stables with the mare, to ensure that all went well, but there was nothing to be done now but accept the situation. In the field to one side of him she could see Ben talking to George, and guilt sliced through her again. She had been so cold to them both for so long, and now she would have only a very short time to try and make it up to them. It seemed so unfair. Why did this damn war have to go and happen anyway? She was continually whipping herself. Perhaps if she and Tom had not been estranged he would never have felt the need to go away. With his lame leg he would certainly have been classed as unsuitable for fighting but because she had been so stupid he would now still be at risk in his role as a horse handler. But there was no turning the clock back now. What was done was done and they would all have to make the best of it.

  She was still standing there a few moments later when her mother entered the room and Sunday forced a smile to her face. Lavinia was due to be married the following day and Sunday wanted to make sure that it was as pleasant an event as it could possibly be, even with the shadow of war hanging over them all.

  ‘Cook is running herself ragged in the kitchen,’ Lavinia informed her with a grin. ‘There was really no need for you all to go to the trouble of a party. William and I would have been quite happy to just catch the train to Brighton for a few days after the ceremony.’

  ‘It’s the least we can do.’ Sunday planted an affectionate kiss on her cheek. ‘It’s just so sad that you won’t have the big wedding we’d planned at Christmas and the honeymoon in the South of France.’

  Lavinia waved her hand airily. ‘My dear girl, I am about to marry the love of my life. What more could I ask?’

  ‘Just think,’ Sunday chuckled as something occurred to her. ‘After tomorrow you’ll be plain Mrs Dewhurst and no longer Lady Huntley.’

  ‘That’s fine by me,’ Lavinia answered. ‘In fact, I can hardly wait. But now have you sorted out what you’re going to wear? I do wish you would have let me buy you a new outfit.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I wear. You are the bride and it will be you everyone is looking at, which is just as it should be,’ Sunday pointed out. ‘And besides, I really don’t need any more clothes. But now will you excuse me? If Cook is getting in a flap I ought to go and give her a hand. She still has your wedding cake to ice. You just relax, I want you feeling all rested for your big day.’

  ‘I just wish that I could have seen William today,’ Lavinia said wistfully and as she left the room Sunday wagged a finger at her.

  ‘You know it’s bad luck for the bride to see the groom the day before the wedding.’

  ‘I’m hardly some young filly, I can’t see what difference it would have made at our age,’ Lavinia grumbled, but Sunday was not going to budge on this one.

  ‘Just settle down and read a magazine or something,’ she suggested in a no-nonsense kind of voice and then with a last grin she went off to the kitchen.

  Lavinia Huntley’s wedding day dawned sunny and bright and Treetops was a hive of activity as Cissie and Sunday helped the children who now lived there into their Sunday-best clothes. Lavinia had been like a grandmother to them and they were all keen to be a part of the special occasion. Treetops was their home, and they loved, and were loved by, everyone there.

  ‘Goodness knows when we’ll have time to get ready ourselves,’ Cissie muttered as she brushed a little girl’s hair before tying it back with a blue ribbon. ‘There you are, Susan. Run along now.’ And the child went to join the others.

  It was so unlike Cissie to grumble that Sunday peeped at her from the corner of her eye. Now that she came to think about it, Cissie hadn’t seemed to be herself for a few days. Normally they confided everything to each other but Cissie hadn’t said that anything was wrong.

  ‘Right, that’s the last one done,’ Sunday said then as she eyed her charges with satisfaction. ‘It’s your turn now, Cissie. Go and get changed while I help Mother with her hair. I’ve only got to slip my dress on so I shan’t be two minutes.’ She wagged a warning finger at the children then. ‘And mind you lot don’t go getting up to mischief and getting dirty.’

  The children giggled and skipped happily away as Cissie slowly made her way to the room where her clothes were laid out ready. They had decided it would save time if she didn’t have to rush off back to the cottage. Once inside the room she closed the door behind her and her chin sank to her chest as she sniffed back a tear. Her son had paid her the third visit in as many weeks only days ago and once again he had played on her sympathy and gone away with yet more of hers and George’s savings tucked in his pocket. Cissie had tried to tell him this time that she really couldn’t spare any more, but he had become quite abusive with her and it had almost broken her heart.

  ‘I should have realised you wouldn’t want to help me,’ he had whined. ‘You never wanted me in the first place so why should you want me now?’

  ‘But I do want you … I always wanted you!’ Cissie had objected as he sat with a fierce look on his face. Then when he had risen to leave, she had panicked. What if he turned his back on her and she never saw him again? She had dreamed for so long of finding him and now she finally had – and yet, deep down, she was ashamed to admit that although he was her own flesh and blood, she didn’t like him. He had soon shown himself to be li
ke his father in nature as well as looks, and being no fool, Cissie understood that he only wanted to keep a connection with her so that he could bleed her dry of money. Now, too late, she believed every word his adoptive parents had said about him – but her savings were almost gone. What was George going to say when he found out? Never in their entire married life had they had secrets from each other, but she was too ashamed to tell him what she had done.

  With a sigh she put the thoughts to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to dwell on them. Tomorrow would be soon enough when the wedding was over and the newlyweds were enjoying their honeymoon. Swallowing a sob, she hurriedly changed her dress and tried to focus on the day ahead.

  Downstairs, George was waiting to take the bride to church in Tom’s car when there was a tap at the door. All the staff were frantically rushing about trying to get the food laid out in the dining room for when the happy couple returned so George answered the door to find the postman on the step.

  ‘Morning, George.’ Bill Day touched his cap. ‘Big day today, eh, for Lady Huntley, God bless her. And not afore time. I reckon she’s overdue a little happiness. But hark at me rabbitin’ on. I’ve a couple o’ letters here for you.’ He frowned as he handed them over, wishing he had a shilling for every such letter he had delivered in the town and surrounding villages that week.

  George frowned too when he saw the official-looking envelopes. ‘Thanks, Bill.’ They were undoubtedly the letters telling Ben and Tom when they were to report for training, but what a time for them to come. Hastily making a decision he stuffed them deep down into the pocket of his jacket just as Sunday appeared on the stairs.

  ‘Anything for me, George?’

  ‘Nah, just a bill for me.’ He felt no guilt whatsoever for the lie. If Sunday were to see the letters before they left for the church, the day would be ruined before it had even begun. He would leave them where they would be found late that evening.