by Dilly Court
Molly abandoned the subservient attitude for one of naked aggression. ‘I want her back and you’ll get her for me if you know what’s good for you.’
‘If you’re really her mother why would you want to drag her down to your level? You should be glad that she’s being brought up in a respectable family with a good future ahead of her.’
‘I could make a fortune on the streets with a little peach like my Flora, or better still, the toffs would pay good money to get her back.’ She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Alice. ‘I got friends who’d be happy to slit your pretty throat as soon as look at you.’
‘I’m not afraid of you. Say what you like, but I won’t lift a finger to help you. Flora is beyond your reach.’
‘I knows where she lives,’ Molly snarled. ‘I was waiting outside tonight, but you was with that toff what brought you to Blossom Street earlier. I followed you here so now I know where to find you. Be warned, because I ain’t done with you yet.’
‘If you bother me again I’ll report you to the police. I know where you live too, so remember that, Molly Bishop.’ Alice kicked the knife down through the iron railings at the top of the area and mounted the steps. She rapped on the door, but when she glanced over her shoulder there was no sign of Molly, who seemed to have vanished like a puff of smoke.
Clara opened the door. ‘Come in out of the cold, miss. You look froze to death.’
It was only when she was inside the house that Alice realised she was trembling from head to foot. She had put on a brave face in front of Molly, but now the danger was past she knew that she had made an enemy, and she had no doubt that Molly would carry out her threats. Her hands were shaking so much that she could hardly undo the frogging on her mantle and Clara had to help her.
‘You need a hot drink, miss. I’m afraid the fire’s gone out in the dining room. I lit it before dinner but your mama wasn’t feeling well enough to come downstairs, and the missis was invited to the parson’s house after church. You’d best come down to the kitchen where it’s nice and warm.’
‘I – I need to see my mother first.’
‘She was asleep when I looked in about ten minutes ago. If she sees you looking so pale and drawn it could set her back and make her worse. Come with me, miss. I’m sure Mrs Jugg won’t mind, just this once.’
If Mrs Jugg was surprised to see Alice in her kitchen she did not even raise an eyebrow. It was almost as if Alice was expected, and a cup of hot tea was thrust into her cold hands.
‘Sit down by the range, and warm yourself, miss. It’s no good for man nor beast outside tonight, Christmas or no Christmas.’ Mrs Jugg slumped down on a chair, which she pulled as close as possible to the fire. ‘There’s some gruel on the hob, if you’d like to take it up to your poor ma. Clara says she’s not at all well.’
Alice sipped her tea. ‘Thank you, yes. I’ll go up and see her as soon as I’ve drunk this.’ She glanced round the kitchen at the bare surfaces of the work benches and the scrubbed pine table in the centre of the room. There was no sign of Christmas cheer in the Radcliffe establishment.
‘The mistress doesn’t believe in extravagance.’ Mrs Jugg’s mouth turned down at the corners in silent disapproval. ‘We had boiled ox head for our Christmas dinner today. The broth will last the week out if I add more vegetables to the pot.’
‘The meat was tasty, Cook,’ Clara said hastily. ‘I had two helpings, being as how it’s the festive season, and then I had a mince pie.’ She rubbed her tummy, smiling happily.
‘Hush now, girl.’ Mrs Jugg silenced her with a frown. ‘I made the mincemeat myself, Miss Radcliffe. It was our little treat and it didn’t cost the mistress a penny.’
Alice was lost for words. She was not in a position to openly criticise her aunt’s stinginess, nor could she do anything to improve the servants’ lot. She finished the tea and laid the cup on the table. ‘Thank you, that really has done the trick. I feel much better now.’
‘Your teeth was chattering something chronic when you come in,’ Clara said, grinning. ‘You go on upstairs, miss. I’ll fetch the gruel and a cup of weak tea for your ma, poor lady.’
‘You’re both very kind,’ Alice said shyly. ‘Thank you.’ As she made her way up the back stairs to her mother’s room she could not help wondering why Mrs Jugg and Clara chose to stay in her aunt’s employ.
She found her mother awake and shivering. ‘Mama, I’m sorry I’ve been away so long.’
‘It’s all right, my darling. I’ve been sleeping most of the day but I’m so c-cold.’
‘You need more blankets and there should be a fire in here. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Don’t antagonise your aunt. We can’t afford to get on the wrong side of her, Alice.’
‘And I don’t want you to die of lung fever, Mama.’ In answer to a muffled knock Alice went to open the door. Clara edged in carrying a tray, which she put on a table by the window. ‘You’re awake, ma’am. Are you hungry?’
Beth shook her head. ‘Not really, but thank you anyway, Clara.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Alice said angrily. ‘My mother is chilled to the marrow and this room feels like an ice cave. Where does my aunt keep the bedding?’
‘There ain’t no more blankets, miss. The mistress says that storing them to feed the moths is a waste of money.’
‘Then where does she keep the coal? I’m going to light a fire in here.’
Clara’s mouth dropped open. ‘She won’t allow it, miss.’
‘I’m not going to ask her permission. Fetch me a bucket of coat, kindling and matches, please. I’ll take full responsibility.’
Clara scuttled out of the room, her footsteps echoing on the bare boards. Alice lifted her mother to a semi-sitting position and plumped up the pillows. ‘I’ll hold the cup for you. Try to drink the tea and maybe you’ll feel like taking a little sustenance.’
Beth drank thirstily, but only managed a few mouthfuls of the rapidly cooling gruel.
‘Thank you, darling,’ she said, falling back against the pillows. ‘I feel a bit better now.’
Alice perched on the edge of the bed, taking her mother’s hand in hers. ‘You’re still very cold, Mama. Clara should be back soon and I’ll get a fire going.’
‘Jane won’t like it. We really shouldn’t go against her wishes. It is her house, after all.’
‘And we’re her family. What would Papa say if he could see how she treats you?’
‘They never got on, Alice. Clement was very fond of his brother and he tried to like Jane for Robert’s sake, but she’s not an easy person to get on with, as you’ve discovered.’
Alice was saved from replying by the sudden appearance of Clara, looking flushed and breathing heavily. ‘I’m sorry, but the cellar is locked and Mrs Radcliffe has the only key. Cook said she’s put the last of our daily allowance of coal on the range and there won’t be any more until morning.’
Alice leaped to her feet. ‘This is ridiculous. There must be ten or more bedrooms in this house, surely there are blankets hidden away somewhere?’
‘The beds in those rooms aren’t made up, miss,’ Clara said, wringing her hands. ‘I’m ever so sorry, but there’s nothing more I can do.’ She hesitated. ‘There’s the locked room, but I dunno what’s in there. The cleaners aren’t allowed in and …’
‘And I suppose my aunt has the key,’ Alice said bitterly. ‘Maybe she keeps my uncle prisoner in there and he isn’t really dead after all.’
A hint of a smile lit Beth’s blue eyes. ‘Alice, that’s a wicked thing to say.’ She broke off, seized by a fit of coughing.
‘If there is extra bedding in there I’ll find it even if I have to break the door down.’ Alice beckoned to Clara. ‘I need you to show me where it is.’
‘It’s on the first floor, miss. But don’t tell the mistress I said so.’ Reluctantly Clara led the way to a room on the second floor. ‘This is it. May I go now, miss?’
Alice tried the door handle and found it locked.
She hammered on the panels in frustration. ‘Yes, go back to the warm kitchen, Clara. This is my problem, not yours.’
Clara raced off, coming to a sudden halt. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. It weren’t my idea.’
Alice turned to see her aunt standing at the top of the staircase with a chamber candlestick in her hand. ‘What is going on?’
‘I never told her about the locked room,’ Clara sobbed. ‘It weren’t me.’
‘Be quiet, you silly child. Go back to the servants’ quarters and don’t venture above stairs unless I ring for you.’
Clara fled.
‘I suppose this is your doing,’ Jane said, advancing on her niece in the wavering light of the candle. ‘Why are you prying into my business?’
‘My mother is quite literally freezing to death in that icy room. I was looking for an extra blanket. Is it too much to ask?’
‘Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. Remember that you are beholden to me for everything since your father left you without a penny to your name.’
‘What’s in this room, Aunt? Have you some dark secret hidden away? All I want is a blanket or two so that Mama doesn’t die from the cold.’
Jane selected a key from the chatelaine. She unlocked the door and thrust it open. ‘There, see for yourself. This is just a bedroom. There’s nothing sinister hidden from prying eyes.’ She marched in, holding the candle high.
Alice stepped inside and found herself in a different world. A four-poster bed was hung with heavily embroidered damask curtains and a matching tester. The flower-patterned carpet was in soft muted shades that complemented the delicate patterns on the wallpaper and curtains. Despite the thick layer of dust that covered the rosewood dressing table and clothes press, and the festoons of cobwebs that hung like lace curtains from the crystal chandelier, it was a charming and very feminine room. The contrast between this quiet but faded opulence and the monastic austerity of the rest of the house could not have been more pronounced.
‘Whose room was this?’ Alice stared at her aunt in amazement. ‘And why is it always locked?’
‘It was my late husband’s wish,’ Jane said bitterly. ‘I would have cleared everything away and be done with it, but he was devoted to his half-sister, even though she disgraced the family name.’
‘Mama mentioned my Aunt Viola recently, but I’ve only a very hazy memory of her. I know that she died young.’
Jane pursed her lips. ‘Viola was the baby of the family and her parents spoiled her, giving in to her every whim.’ She paused, frowning. ‘She came to live with us after they passed away within weeks of each other.’
‘It must have been difficult for all of you,’ Alice said tactfully.
‘It was impossible. Viola wanted everything her own way, and then she formed an attachment to a totally unsuitable person. It was a very difficult time. She ran away from home, but my sainted Robert was convinced she would return. His dying wish was that I kept her room ready for her. It’s all nonsense, of course. She was selfish and wayward and doesn’t deserve to be remembered, but I’ve kept my promise and will do so until the day I die, even though I don’t agree with it.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Alice said with feeling. ‘It must have been very hard for you to bear.’
‘We put it about that she succumbed to lung fever,’ Jane said with a casual shrug. ‘She is dead to me anyway, so take what you need. The door will be locked again and I never want to hear Viola Radcliffe’s name mentioned in my presence.’
Alice folded back the counterpane. There were two thick woollen blankets that were slightly moth-eaten and in need of airing, but would provide the warmth needed to give comfort to her sick mother. She looped them over her arm. ‘Thank you, Aunt. I’m very grateful.’
Jane barred Alice’s way as she was about to leave the room. ‘What do I tell my cousin? Are you willing to accept his offer of marriage?’
‘He hasn’t proposed, Aunt.’
‘Don’t pretend to be more stupid than you are, Alice. You know very well what I mean.’
‘I need more time to consider the matter,’ Alice said evasively. ‘Marriage is a big step and I don’t want to make a terrible mistake.’
‘You know my terms so don’t play the innocent with me. My sister-in-law was led astray by foolish romantic notions, and I won’t allow that to happen again. You have until New Year’s Eve to make up your mind.’
‘But that’s no time at all, Aunt. This is a big decision for me.’
‘You either begin the year as an affianced woman or I wash my hands of both you and your mother. I think you will see sense.’
‘Yes, Aunt,’ Alice said meekly. She hurried from the room, hugging the blankets to her. New Year’s Eve seemed as far away as the moon, and all she could think of now was to get her mother through the night. She painted a smile on her lips as she entered the chilly room. ‘Look what I found, Mama. You’ll never guess where they came from.’ She shook out the blankets and laid them on the bed. ‘You’ll soon be warm again, and tomorrow I’ll ask Aunt Jane if you might have a fire in your room.’
‘Don’t get on the wrong side of her, Alice,’ Beth said weakly. ‘She’s a stubborn woman and she has no liking for me, as you well know.’
‘Never mind her now, Mama. I have something interesting to tell you.’ Alice perched on the edge of the bed, tucking the covers up to her mother’s chin. ‘There’s a locked room in this house and it belonged to Aunt Viola. Apparently Uncle Robert’s dying wish was that her room be kept ready for her when she returned home.’
‘That can’t be true, dear. Viola died from consumption.’
‘Aunt Jane said that was a rumour put about to save the family the embarrassment of admitting that Viola had run off with a man they didn’t like. I’d love to know the whole story.’
‘Viola was spirited and could be quite difficult at times, but she was very pretty – like a china doll with golden hair and the bluest of blue eyes.’
‘I envy her that. When I was little I used to wish that my mouse-brown locks would turn overnight into golden curls, and that my eyes were blue instead of grey.’
Beth reached out to hold her daughter’s hand. ‘Don’t say such things, even in jest. You are a truly beautiful girl, far nicer than Viola, who only had her looks to commend her.’
Alice raised her mother’s hand to her cheek. ‘You’re getting warm at last. A good night’s sleep is what you need, Mama. I’ll look in first thing tomorrow before I go to Russell Square.’
‘Good night, my darling. Thank you for all your efforts on my behalf; I just wish I was able to look after you instead of being a burden.’
‘That’s nonsense, Mama.’ Rising to her feet Alice tucked the covers up to her mother’s chin. ‘You’re not a burden and I won’t listen to such talk. We’ll find a way to escape from Aunt Jane’s cold charity, I promise you.’
The house in Russell Square was buzzing with activity when Alice arrived next morning. She had awakened early to check on her mother and found her sleeping soundly. Clara had promised to look after her, which was a relief as Alice knew she could trust the child, but that still left her with the problem of what to do about Molly Bishop. Her threat to take Flora away from the only home she had ever known had been real enough and Alice had experienced her tendency to violence first-hand.
She had toyed with the idea of warning Mr and Mrs Dearborn, but that would mean admitting that Rory had taken them to Blossom Street. Rory was the person to tell, but she had no way of knowing when he would call at the house. She thought about warning Hoskins that a strange woman was posing a threat to Flora, but she knew that he would go straight to his employer, as would Mrs Upton, who was marshalling the servants like a small general in an attempt to make everything ready for the next influx of guests.
She was at a loss to know what to do for the best, but it seemed the only thing she could do was to keep Flora close to her and remain indoors. She collected a tray of breakfast from the kitchen and took
it upstairs to the nursery, where she found Flora still in her nightgown, seated at the desk with the paint box open and a brush in her hand.
‘I’m making a picture for you, Alice,’ she said, beaming. ‘I was up very early. As soon as Nettie came in to light my fire I got out of bed and started drawing. She lit the lamp for me, too. I know I’m not allowed to play with matches.’
‘That’s very sensible of you.’ Alice placed the tray on the table. ‘Now stop that and eat your breakfast, and you can finish your painting when you’re dressed.’ She met Flora’s rebellious look with a smile. ‘May I see what you’ve done so far?’
Shielding the paper with her hands, Flora grinned. ‘No. It’s a surprise.’ She angled her head. ‘You look cold, Alice. Why don’t you sit down and drink your tea while I finish my picture, and then I’ll have my breakfast?’
Alice realised that she was being manipulated, but she resisted the temptation to exert her authority. ‘Thank you, Flora. That’s very thoughtful of you.’ She pulled up a chair and sat down to drink the cup of tea she had added to the tray.
‘Help yourself to toast,’ Flora said graciously. ‘Cook always gives me too much.’
‘Thank you, Flora.’ Alice sat quietly, sipping tea and enjoying the luxury of toast spread with a lavish amount of butter.
When Flora had finished she held her painting up for inspection, and Alice swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before speaking. ‘That’s very interesting.’
‘It’s the cellar where we found my mother,’ Flora said calmly. ‘I dreamed about it last night so I had to put it on paper first thing while I could still see it in my head.’
‘Your uncle didn’t know it would be like that, Flora. He wouldn’t have taken you there if he had had any idea that it would be so terrible.’
Flora nodded. ‘I know he thought he was doing the right thing and I was upset, but I don’t believe that person could be my mother. I think Smithson was lying.’
Alice repressed a shudder. The memory of Molly Bishop’s threats was still fresh in her mind. ‘You could be right, Flora.’
‘I know I am,’ Flora said confidently. She moved her paint box aside and reached for the bowl of porridge. ‘We won’t speak of her again.’
