by Dilly Court
‘She is a very busy woman, Miss Radcliffe. Her business interests are wide and varied and she rarely allows herself the luxury of relaxing in the country.’
Alice rose to her feet. She could see that she was not going to elicit any useful information from him. ‘Thank you for seeing me, sir. I won’t take up any more of your valuable time.’
‘I’ll ring for the maid to see you out. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.’ He reached for the bell pull.
‘How old is Mrs Considine’s daughter, sir?’
‘Nine or ten, I think, but I can’t be certain. Why do you ask?’
‘She is the same age as Flora. I’m sure that Mrs Considine would have sympathy for the family of a lost child. She would only have to look at her own daughter to understand how they must feel at this moment.’
‘I’m sure she would be very sympathetic.’ Mr Hart picked up a sheaf of papers. ‘Good day, Miss Radcliffe.’
There was something in his manner that made her suspicious. It was not that she trusted Jessie Smithson, but more the fact that she did not trust this man. She was about to enquire if he had a family of his own, and if so how he would feel if one of his children were abducted and had disappeared seemingly without trace, when there was a soft tap on the door and the maidservant entered.
‘Show Miss Radcliffe out, Lipton.’
‘This way, miss.’
Alice had little choice other than to follow the maid. She waited until Lipton opened the front door, turning to her with a rueful smile. ‘I am a silly thing. Mr Hart has just this minute told me the name of Mrs Considine’s country house and I’ve forgotten it already.’
‘It’s Hazelwood House, miss.’
‘Of course it is, and it’s near …’ Alice threw up her hands. ‘I have such a poor memory, Lipton. Where is it situated?’
‘Near Hatfield, miss.’ Lipton gave her a pitying look. ‘And I thought I had a memory like a sieve, or at least that’s what Mrs Johnson, the housekeeper, says.’
‘You’ve been very helpful, and I shall tell Mrs Considine so when I see her.’
‘If you’re thinking of travelling there today I might be able to help,’ Lipton said eagerly. ‘Mrs Considine’s coachman returned yesterday with a list of things that madam requested. You might just catch Briggs before he leaves and if he’s agreeable you could travel with him.’
It seemed too good an opportunity to miss. Alice grasped her by the hand. ‘Would you take me to him? If he thought that Mr Hart had sanctioned it, he could hardly refuse.’
Lipton frowned, biting her lip. ‘I dunno, miss. Mr Hart never said nothing to me.’
‘My business is with Mrs Considine. You won’t get into trouble for helping me, I promise.’
‘I suppose it’ll be all right then. Best hurry or he’ll have left.’
Briggs had been reluctant at first, but it seemed that he and Lipton were more than just friends, and with a little persuasion he agreed to take Alice to Hazelwood House. She would have been travelling in style and comfort if there had not been quite so much luggage piled up on the seats, but she resigned herself to being squashed in a corner, half buried beneath hat boxes and garments wrapped in calico. At the end of the three-hour journey she was cramped and aching. When they came to a halt Briggs climbed down from the box to open the door. ‘Are you front entrance or servants’ entrance, miss?’
‘I’m a guest,’ she said, crossing her fingers.
He regarded her steadily. ‘If you say so, miss. Front entrance it is then; you’d best alight here.’ He proffered his arm and she slid out from beneath the weighty pile of fabric. She knew that he did not believe her, but she was not about to admit that she was uninvited and probably unwelcome.
‘Thank you,’ she said with all the dignity she could muster. ‘I’m much obliged to you, Mr Briggs.’ She crossed the gravel carriage sweep, forcing her cramped limbs to move although each step caused her pain and her feet were tingling with pins and needles. She paused, gazing up at the imposing frontage of the Jacobean mansion with its mullioned windows and ornate brickwork. Ivy clambered up the walls, softening the somewhat austere outlines of the building, and white doves perched on the guttering, peering down at her with bright beady eyes. Alice raised the heavy iron ring and knocked on the metal-studded oak door. She glanced over her shoulder as the carriage disappeared in what she assumed must be the direction of the stables, and it was only then she realised that the house was miles from its nearest neighbour. The large expanse of lawn was punctuated by ancient oaks and surrounded by a brick wall over six feet in height.
She was about to knock again when she heard approaching footsteps and the door opened on well-oiled hinges. The male servant looked her up and down, his shaggy eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.
She cleared her throat. ‘I’ve come to see Mrs Considine.’
‘Is she expecting you, miss?’
‘No, not exactly, but if you tell her that I’ve come about Miss Flora I think she’ll see me.’
‘Best step inside.’ He stood back to allow her to enter. ‘What name shall I say, miss?’
‘She does not know me but I’m Alice Radcliffe and it is very important.’
‘Wait here.’ He strode off across the wide entrance hall, leaving Alice to look round at her leisure. Hazelwood House could not have changed much since it was built in the seventeenth century, and she felt as though she had stepped into a bygone era. The wainscoting and highly polished floorboards glowed with the patina of age and the energetic application of beeswax and lavender polish. The furniture was equally old, heavily carved and solid. A log fire blazed up the chimney, emitting sparks that fell harmlessly onto the stone hearth. The scent of burning apple wood filled the air, and the house felt warm and surprisingly welcoming. Alice suppressed the urge to call out to Flora. She had a feeling that she was near and her stomach churned with excitement mixed with anxiety as she waited for the servant to return.
A cry from the top of the stairs made her turn with a start and she uttered a gasp of delight. ‘Flora.’ She rushed to the foot of the staircase in time to catch a flying bundle of lace-trimmed petticoats as Flora slid down the balustrade, toppling off before she collided with the newel post. They collapsed onto the bottom step, arms around each other, laughing and crying. ‘I can’t believe I’ve found you,’ Alice whispered into Flora’s golden curls.
‘Hawkins said a lady had called and I knew at once it was you. I told Mama that you’d be here as soon as you could.’
‘Mama?’ Alice held her at arm’s length.
‘It’s true. Flora is my daughter.’ The voice was vaguely familiar, conjuring up long-forgotten memories.
Alice scrambled to her feet, looking up at the woman who might have stepped out of the portrait in Hertford Street. ‘I know who you are,’ she said slowly.
‘She’s my mama,’ Flora said happily. ‘I’ve found my mummy at last. Isn’t she beautiful?’
Viola Considine seemed to glide as she descended the stairs. A shaft of sunlight slanting through an oriel window turned her golden coronet of curls into a halo. In her simple white muslin gown she looked like an angel.
‘You’re supposed to be dead,’ Alice said dazedly.
Viola threw back her head and laughed, dispelling the angelic image she had created. ‘So that’s what they told you, little Alice.’ She came to stand at her side, looking at her closely. ‘But you’re not so little now, my dear. You’re a grown woman and you’ve been the saviour of my child. Even were we not related by blood I would love you for that alone.’ Viola enveloped Alice in a perfumed embrace.
Alice was the first to break away. She stared at her in disbelief. ‘You are my Aunt Viola, and you are Flora’s mother. I can’t believe it.’
Flora grasped Alice’s hand. ‘Come into the parlour. My mummy will tell you everything. She’s explained it all to me and I love her, but I love you too, Alice,’ she added hastily. ‘You were the first person to be my friend, apart
from Rory, and I’m still very fond of him. Does he know you’ve come here?’
‘No, he doesn’t. Nobody knows, apart from Lipton and Briggs. I doubt if Lipton will have told Mr Hart that she helped me to find you.’
‘Come,’ Viola said softly. ‘We’ll continue this conversation in the morning parlour and I’ll send for some coffee and cake. You must be hungry, Alice.’
‘I am rather,’ Alice admitted. She had forgotten about food, but now it was mentioned her stomach rumbled expectantly.
Still holding her hand, Flora danced across the hall. ‘When I awakened this morning I had no idea that this would turn out to be such a perfect day. I’ve missed you so much, Alice.’
‘And I’ve missed you more than you could possibly know, and now I understand why. We’re cousins, Flora. We’re related by blood – we’re family, and I think it’s wonderful.’ Confused, but happy, Alice allowed herself to be led to the parlour, which despite the stone mullions and the small windowpanes was surprisingly bright and sunny. The furnishings were old-fashioned and some of the upholstery was well worn but the atmosphere was cosy and welcoming.
Hawkins appeared in answer to Viola’s summons and brought a tray of coffee and a large chocolate cake, which Flora hacked into overly large slices, much to her mother’s amusement. She pressed a plate into Alice’s hand.
‘Tell my mummy your story, Alice. Tell her how you travelled all the way to Yorkshire to save me.’
Viola lit a cigarillo with a spill from the fire. She exhaled with a sigh of pleasure and took a seat close to the hearth. ‘Well,’ she said when Alice had told her everything from the time the bailiffs entered the house in Doughty Street to the moment Molly erupted onto the platform at York, ‘that makes my story seem almost tame.’
‘I was told you had died,’ Alice said simply. ‘Why did they lie to me?’
‘Mummy has had such an exciting life.’ Flora licked chocolate cake off each finger in turn. ‘You won’t believe half the stories she has to tell.’
‘I’m sure I won’t,’ Alice replied, smiling. ‘You’ve heard all about me, Aunt Viola. Now it’s definitely your turn.’
Viola cast her eyes heavenward. ‘Oh, please. Don’t call me “aunt”; it reminds me of Jane. She always hated me.’
‘That’s not what she says,’ Alice protested. ‘She’s kept your room exactly as it was when you left home.’
‘That’s balderdash,’ Viola said dismissively. ‘Jane was jealous because Uncle Robert was fond of me.’ She lowered her voice. ‘A little too fond, if you know what I mean, Alice.’
‘No! Really?’ Alice stared at her in astonishment.
‘It’s all in the past, but I can tell you that I was desperate to escape from the mausoleum and my uncle’s clutching hands. Then I met Edmond. I was just seventeen and he was young and exciting. We fell in love, but Uncle Robert forbade me to have anything to do with Eddie, so we ran away together.’
‘And you never returned to Queen Square?’
‘Oh, yes, just the once.’ Viola smoked in silence, a frown puckering her brow. ‘It was a few months later that I realised I was in the family way. I was unmarried and Edmond, as I had discovered, was a gambler. If he won at the tables we could eat, if he lost we went hungry.’
Flora reached up to hold her mother’s hand. ‘Poor Mummy,’ she said softly.
‘Poor and foolish.’ Viola exhaled a stream of blue smoke, watching it dissipate into the atmosphere with a wry chuckle. ‘You know Aunt Jane only too well, I’m sure, Alice. You can imagine how she reacted when she saw me. I was promptly ejected from the house and told never on any account to return.’
‘I’m shocked,’ Alice said angrily. ‘She said that you’d died of consumption, and my mother told me that you’d died in childbirth, and that the baby was stillborn.’
‘As you can see I’m very much alive and so is Flora. The tragedy was that Eddie made me choose between him and my baby, and after a difficult birth I was too ill to fight him. Then the midwife he’d hired to deliver Flora said she knew of a wealthy couple who longed for a child. Jessie Smithson told me that the family were prepared to pay handsomely, and they would give my little girl everything that I could not provide.’
‘So it’s true,’ Alice said slowly. ‘You sold Flora to the Dearborns.’
‘I was young and desperate, and besotted with Edmond. He said that the money would secure our future, and when we were rich we would take Flora away from her adoptive parents. I believed him.’ Viola’s large blue eyes misted with tears. ‘I had no choice.’
Flora moved closer to her mother. ‘Don’t cry, my mummy. We’re together now.’
‘The Dearborns took Flora,’ Alice said thoughtfully. ‘And I take it that Jessie was the same Smithson who was hired to look after Flora in Russell Square.’
Flora nodded emphatically. ‘Smithson used to drink and hide the empty bottles in the book cupboard.’
Alice turned to her aunt, eyebrows raised. ‘Why would Smithson want to look after Flora?’
‘I have a feeling that Molly put her up to it. Maybe she viewed my baby as an investment for the future. I don’t know.’ Viola flicked ash into the grate. ‘Anyway, Eddie hired Smithson to attend me at the birth and she was well paid for her services. He’d had a run of good luck at the time, although needless to say it didn’t last long.’
‘What happened then?’ Alice asked eagerly. ‘Where is Edmond now?’
‘It’s not a happy ending,’ Viola said, sighing. ‘He bet the money we had from the Dearborns on a certainty, so he said, and I was beside myself with rage. I’d been forced to give up my baby and he was risking everything on a horse.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘The animal came in at 100 to 1. Would you believe it? Suddenly we were in possession of a small fortune, and I begged him to use his winnings wisely. I urged him to go to Russell Square and repay the Dearborns every last penny so that they would have to let Flora come back to us, but he made me put on my best gown and insisted that I accompany him to the gaming club in Piccadilly. I tried my best to persuade him otherwise, as I was convinced that he would lose all our money, but once again he seemed to be on a lucky streak and he won every hand of cards.’
‘But you didn’t come for me, Mummy,’ Flora said with a break in her voice.
‘It was my intention to do so, my darling. We left the club with more money than I had ever dreamed of possessing, but we were followed and held up at gunpoint.’
Flora’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in horror. ‘Oh, no!’
‘What happened then?’ Alice laid a comforting hand on Flora’s shoulder, but she could see from Viola’s bleak expression that the outcome was not good.
‘Eddie thrust the money bag into my hands and told me to run. I did just that. I ran and ran, in and out of the back alleys like a feral cat until I reached the rookery where we rented our room. I waited for him to come home. I waited up all night and early next morning I went to look for him. I found him lying in a pool of blood where his attacker had left him.’
‘He was dead?’ Alice murmured, but she already knew the answer.
‘Murdered,’ Viola said, shuddering. ‘I was distraught. I didn’t know what to do and panicked. I just left him there, cold and lifeless and all alone. I walked and walked until I found myself in Doughty Street.’
‘You came to our house? Didn’t my pa offer to help?’
‘The maidservant told me that the family were attending a church service in memory of Miss Viola who had died young. The girl was new and obviously had no idea who I was.’
‘But didn’t you put her right?’ Alice demanded.
‘I was still suffering from shock, and I couldn’t believe that Jane would have told everyone that I was dead. I think at that moment I wished that I’d been shot to death, too. I’d lost my child and the man I adored. The next thing I remember I was standing on Waterloo Bridge, staring down into the swirling water. I don’t know if I
would have jumped, but as I stretched out my arms I think I just wanted to fly away like a bird.’
Flora buried her face in Alice’s shoulder. ‘Don’t, Mummy. I don’t want to hear any more.’
Viola tossed what remained of her cigarillo into the fire. ‘It’s all right, poppet. I’m still here, as you see, and all thanks to Mr Considine, who had guessed my intention and dragged me away from the brink of destruction.’
‘So that’s where you got your name,’ Alice said slowly. ‘Who is this man who saved your life?’
‘Aidan Considine was my saviour in more ways than one. It was he who set me on the path to make my fortune. I owe him everything. He took me to his house in Hertford Street and he looked after me. I don’t remember much about those first days; it’s all a blur in my mind, but I had youth on my side and he was kind and very patient.’
Alice leaned forward, eager to hear more. ‘You married him?’
‘We lived together as man and wife.’
‘Did you love him, Mummy?’ Flora put her head on one side, eyeing her mother like a bright-eyed robin. ‘Did you fall in love with him because he saved you from a watery grave?’
Viola laughed and pinched Flora’s cheek. ‘You are a true romantic, child. No, I didn’t love him as I loved Eddie, but I was fond of Aidan, and I respected him. He had a brilliant brain and a talent for making money, even if it was sometimes on the shady side of the law.’
‘You talk about him in the past,’ Alice said thoughtfully. ‘Is he no longer with us?’
‘He’s not dead, if that’s what you mean.’ Viola selected another cigarillo from a silver box on the table at her side. ‘He’s in prison, serving a long sentence for fraud and misappropriation of funds. I was left to run the businesses that were not sold off to pay the fines set by the court, but I discovered that I have a good head on my shoulders.’ She lit the cigarillo and smiled through a haze of smoke. ‘We women are raised to think we are subservient to men, and that we have few brains in our pretty little heads, but I’ve proved that to be wrong. I’m very successful in my own right and my daughter will benefit from my labours, as will you, Alice. We might be the family outcasts, but we will eclipse them all. One day I will have Jane grovelling at my feet and I’ll take great pleasure in her humiliation.’
