Cinderella Sister

by Dilly Court

  It had been a day fraught with emotion and Lily was glad to lie down in bed, even though Molly tossed and turned, pulling the coverlet up to her chin and exposing her feet as they rested on the pillow close to Lily’s head. Aggie had fallen asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, but Lily could tell by her soft breathing that Nell was wide awake. Most young women would be delighted to have captured the hearts of two eligible men. Molly would have crowed her triumph from the rooftops, but Nell was different. Lily knew that it was not in her nature to be flirtatious or to enjoy hurting the feelings of another person. Nell would have cut off her right arm rather than wound someone who loved her. Lily lay still, willing sleep to come and relieve her of her worries. She heard the distant chimes of the clock in St James’s church tower strike midnight, then one and two, and her brothers stomped up the stairs not long afterwards, laughing and shushing each other in their tipsy attempts to keep quiet as they manhandled Grandpa into their room.

  The building lapsed once again into a drowsy silence but sleep still evaded Lily. What worried her most was Christian Smith’s threat to expose the family scandal in his newspaper. She dared not tell her brothers. Matt was a fair man but he had a temper when roused, as did the normally easy-going Mark. She knew instinctively that any attempts to suppress the story or threats on Christian’s person would only make matters worse. Luke was the diplomat of the family, but she doubted whether his gentle nature would stand up to Christian’s bullying ways. Drifting off to sleep eventually, she realised that there was only one course open to her. Gabriel had given her his card; tomorrow morning, when everyone went about their daily business or slept off the excesses of the previous night, she would visit Gower Street and hope to find him at home. He was a man of the world, and he might know how to put a stop to the story before it became public knowledge.

  ‘This is a respectable house. I don’t allow my gentlemen to entertain females on my premises.’

  Lily shifted from one foot to the other as she stood on the doorstep of Gabriel’s lodging house. It had taken much longer to walk to Gower Street than she had estimated, and the sky was heavy with the threat of more snow to come. The landlady, a tall thin woman with a face that showed traces of past good looks worn into lines by hard work and ill temper, barred the entrance like Cerberus at the gates of hell. Her tight-lipped cynical expression suggested that she viewed the whole world with distrust, and young unattached females in particular.

  ‘If you please, ma’am,’ Lily said humbly, ‘could you ask Mr Faulkner to spare me a few minutes out here in the street? What I have to say to him won’t take long.’

  ‘I don’t hold with artists and models. We all know what they get up to in private. I suppose you are one of them.’ The emphasis on the word them was accompanied by a sarcastic sneer.

  ‘I’m neither, ma’am. In fact I’m related to Mr Faulkner,’ Lily said, adding truthfully, ‘in a way.’

  ‘They all say that. Mr Faulkner has sisters aplenty, and cousins too. Now be on your way before I call a constable.’

  Lily glanced over her shoulder as she felt the eyes of passers-by boring into her back. She knew she was blushing but it was from embarrassment and not guilt. She could tell by the landlady’s intractable stare that she was not going to get past her, but then she remembered Christian Smith and she was desperate. ‘Gabriel,’ she shouted. ‘If you are in there please come out. It’s Lily.’

  ‘Well, I never,’ the landlady exclaimed, bristling. ‘The brass neck of the girl.’ She was about to slam the door when Gabriel materialised beside her as if by magic.

  ‘Lily, my dear little sister. I thought I recognised your voice.’

  ‘Is this one of your tales, Mr Faulkner?’

  Gabriel edged past her. ‘Mrs Lovelace, would I lie to you?’

  ‘Frequently, sir.’

  ‘I’m mortified that you think so little of me.’ Gabriel beckoned to Lily. ‘Come inside out of the cold.’

  Lily needed no second bidding, and she stepped into the entrance hall.

  Mrs Lovelace regarded them with a quirk of her pencil-thin eyebrows. ‘If this young person is your sister you may take her into the front parlour.’

  ‘You are a wonderful woman, Mrs Lovelace,’ Gabriel said, throwing the door open. ‘Could I presume on your good nature a little further and request a tray of coffee? My sister looks perished.’

  ‘If you insist.’ Mrs Lovelace stalked off, the tilt of her head and twitch of her shoulders radiating disapproval as she disappeared into the dim recesses of the house. Lily entered the parlour, wrinkling her nose at the smell of camphor and lavender oil.

  ‘It is a bit strong, isn’t it?’ Gabriel said, chuckling. ‘Dear Mrs Lovelace has declared war on moths. Every piece of cloth in the house is soaked in camphor or lavender oil and sometimes both.’ He pulled up a chair upholstered in green velvet, the colour, Lily noted, of the slime on the stone steps leading down to the river. She perched on the chair, blinking as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloomy interior of the room. Dark green velvet curtains were drawn across the windows and Lily found herself wondering if Mrs Lovelace had a dislike of daylight as well as moths, but even in the twilight room it was obvious that her devotion to cleanliness was carried out with religious fervour. The heavy furniture stood self-consciously on the polished floorboards like visitors to a museum standing before strange artefacts from foreign lands. The mantelshelf was heavily draped with matching velvet and crowded with ugly china ornaments. A fire was laid in the grate with the kindling set in a rigid pattern but it remained unlit, and the temperature in the room was little warmer than that outside.

  Lily felt ill at ease but Gabriel seemed to sense her discomfort and he strode across the room to open the curtains, dodging the stiff-backed chairs and a whatnot crammed with figurines and topped with an aspidistra. A cold white light flooded the room, making it appear even chillier and less appealing than before. He moved swiftly to the fireplace and struck a vesta, igniting the tightly curled newspapers and sending flames licking round the kindling and lumps of shiny black coal. ‘There, that will catch in a few minutes and make things more cheery.’ He turned to Lily with eyebrows raised. ‘What is it, Lily? Something dire must have occurred to bring you all the way to Gower Street.’

  ‘Is it true?’ Lily demanded. ‘Are you Everard Faulkner’s son?’

  His lips twitched. ‘It’s no secret. We share the same name.’

  ‘It’s not funny, and you haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, and yes, it is true.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me that at the outset?’

  He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, leaning forward with his hands on his knees and a serious expression on his face. ‘I didn’t want to scare you off. I realised that you knew almost nothing about Charlotte’s way of life, and I saw how her desertion had affected your whole family.’

  ‘But you asked me to visit her all the same.’

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have done that, and maybe I ought not to have told her that I’d met you by chance, but I believe she’s sincere in her desire to make amends for leaving her family.’

  Lily shook her head. ‘I’m not sure that’s possible, Gabriel. How did you come to terms with what happened?’

  ‘I was upset at the time, and at first I would have nothing to do with my father or with Charlotte, but over the years I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to their unconventional lifestyle.’

  ‘So what changed?’

  ‘I grew up, and I realised that my parents had endured a loveless marriage. I stopped blaming my father for falling in love with another woman, and I accepted the fact that they were living their lives as they wanted, even though they were frowned on by society in general.’

  She was silent for a moment as she considered this statement. Her own family had not been so generous and she herself had condemned her mother without ever wondering what had led her to abandon her fam
ily. She raised her eyes and found Gabriel staring at her with understanding and compassion, as though he could read her thoughts and sympathised with her dilemma.

  ‘It’s hard, isn’t it?’ he said softly. ‘And you were obviously much younger than I when it all happened.’ He laid his hand on her arm but withdrew it hastily as the door opened and a chubby-cheeked servant girl entered the room carrying a tray. He leapt to his feet and took it from her. ‘Thank you, Mary.’

  A rosy blush suffused her freckled face and she bobbed a curtsey. ‘You’re welcome, Mr Gabriel. Can I get you anything else?’

  He glanced down at the white china coffee pot and matching cups and saucers. ‘Some sugar perhaps, Mary. Or is Mrs Lovelace economising again?’

  Mary stared up at him devotedly but blankly. ‘I dunno what econo-whatever you said it was is, sir.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Gabriel said, setting the tray down on a spindly mahogany tea table. ‘I’m sure we can do without.’

  Mary cast a curious sidelong glance at Lily. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘That will be all then, thank you.’ Gabriel held the coffee pot poised over a cup. ‘You may go, Mary.’

  She backed towards the doorway, blushing and grinning until she very nearly lost her footing as she encountered a stubborn chair. She bobbed another curtsey and fled from the room.

  Lily held back her laughter until the door had closed on the unfortunate maid. ‘She’s gone spoons on you, Gabriel.’

  He smiled modestly. ‘I have that effect on all women, especially young girls fresh from the country like young Mary.’

  ‘She’ll learn,’ Lily said, chuckling. ‘One day she’ll see through your boyish charm and she’ll fall in love with the milkman or the butcher’s boy.’

  ‘I certainly hope so. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for breaking a young maiden’s heart.’ He held her gaze briefly as he handed her a cup of coffee. ‘I’m sorry about the absence of sugar.’

  ‘It’s a luxury we often go without nowadays.’ She bit her lip, wishing that she had held her tongue. She had not come here for sympathy or to underline their impoverished state. She changed the subject. ‘I must go soon. No one knows that I came here today and I don’t want them to find out.’

  ‘There’s something else bothering you, I can tell. You can trust me, Lily.’

  She sipped her coffee, giving herself time to think. ‘That reporter, the one who wrote about the fire.’

  Gabriel angled his head. ‘Lily in the Flames.’

  ‘Yes, that’s the one. His name is Smith, Christian Smith, although he doesn’t behave in a very Christian way.’

  ‘What’s he done? If he’s pestering you, Lily …’

  The coffee cup jiggled on its saucer as her hand trembled. ‘Hear me out, please, Gabriel.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I seem to remember sending him off with a flea in his ear.’

  ‘Yes, you did, but he won’t take no for an answer. He’s determined to ruin my family and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Ruin you? I don’t understand. You’d better start at the beginning.’

  Placing her cup and saucer back on the tray, Lily struggled to regain her composure. She took a deep breath and began at the point when Christian had waylaid her in the snowstorm. Gabriel listened attentively. ‘You must be careful, Lily,’ he said when she came to the end of her narrative. ‘Whatever you tell this man will be twisted to suit his own ends. You don’t have to speak to him at all.’

  ‘But if I refuse to cooperate he says he will write his story anyway, and he’ll say awful things about my grandpa. I can’t let him do that, and I daren’t tell Matt or Mark because they’ll be furious with me for disobeying them and it’s all my fault anyway.’ She bit back a sob and was fumbling for a handkerchief when Gabriel produced one from his pocket. He pressed it into her hand.

  ‘How is it your fault? You’ve done nothing wrong.’

  She blew her nose in the clean white cotton that smelt of expensive soap with a hint of gentlemen’s spicy cologne. ‘I h-have,’ she sobbed, unable to stem the flow of tears. ‘I’ve disobeyed my brothers and Nell by going out sketching and painting when I should have been working, and if I’d been doing what I should have then I wouldn’t have tripped over you on the quay wall.’ She mopped her eyes and sniffed as she struggled to control her emotions.

  ‘Well, I for one am very glad that we met and it could have happened in any of a hundred different ways. Besides which, Lily, you are a grown woman, not a little girl. You don’t have to do everything your family says. In fact I truly believe that you were right in defying their ridiculous edict.’ He took her hand and held it in a firm grasp. ‘You have talent and it would be a sin to deny that gift. You should nurture it, my dear girl, and not turn yourself into a drudge just to please your brothers and sisters. You are a person in your own right and you must always remember that.’

  She met his earnest gaze with a reluctant smile. ‘I love my brothers, especially Luke, but I wish Matt and Mark were more like you, Gabriel. I would be proud to have you as a brother.’

  He pulled a face as he released her hand. ‘I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but I’ll take it as one. I’m more used to young ladies swooning at my feet than telling me I’m like a brother to them.’

  His comic expression made her laugh and she shook her head. ‘Now you’re teasing me.’

  ‘At least I’ve made you smile.’

  ‘Yes, and I feel better for telling you my problems, but it’s something I have to sort out for myself.’ She rose to her feet, and realising that she was still clutching his hanky she offered it to him, but he shook his head.

  ‘Keep it, I’ve got a dozen of the wretched things. I have an elderly aunt who gives them to me each year on my birthday.’

  Lily smiled and tucked it away in her reticule. ‘Thank you for listening so patiently but I really must go. It’s a long walk to Cock Hill.’

  He rose to his feet and went to the window. ‘It’s snowing again. You can’t walk home in this, Lily. I’ll go out and find a cab.’ He paused, his attention seemingly caught by something on the far side of the street. ‘Lily, come here. Is that who I think it is?’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Oh no,’ Lily gasped. ‘It’s that dreadful man. He must have followed me here.’

  ‘I’ll sort him out,’ Gabriel said angrily. ‘Wait here, I won’t be long.’

  She caught him by the hand. ‘No, please don’t go out there. You’ll only make things worse. He’s a nasty, horrible person and means to ruin my family.’

  Gabriel’s eyes twinkled with merriment. ‘I’m not afraid of nasty men and you mustn’t be either. I’m your surrogate brother, don’t forget, Lily, and brothers should protect their sisters. I don’t speak from experience as I was an only child, but I won’t allow him to upset you.’

  ‘It’s not for myself that I’m worried,’ she insisted. ‘Christian Smith wants to get his own back on my grandpa, and I truly believe he’ll stop at nothing. Now I’ve made things worse by coming here and the next thing you know he’ll be paying a call on Ma and your father.’

  ‘My dear girl, they’re used to dealing with the gentlemen of the press. They thrive on publicity because it sells paintings and they revel in being labelled bohemians.’

  ‘I think he’s seen us,’ Lily said, hiding behind Gabriel as Christian squinted at them through the driving snow. He made a move to cross the road and she tugged at Gabriel’s arm. ‘He’s coming this way. What shall I do?’

  ‘Keep calm and we’ll slip out through the back door.’ Gabriel propelled her gently towards the doorway and out into the hall. Taking her cloak from the hallstand he wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘I’ll see you home, Lily. I’m not letting you do this alone.’ He snatched a greatcoat from its peg and shrugged it on. He took his hat and gloves and an umbrella, brandishing it with a boyish grin. ‘If all else fails I’ll impale the wretched fellow on the end of my gamp.’

  Li
ly giggled in spite of her jangled nerves. ‘That I would like to see.’

  He took her by the arm. ‘Come on then, Miss Larkin. Forward into battle, Christian soldiers go.’

  ‘You are funny,’ Lily said, giggling.

  ‘Yes, I’m a laugh a minute. No one takes me seriously.’ He led her through the house and down the back stairs, where at the end of a long narrow passageway a door opened into a small back garden. The sound of horses neighing and the smell of the stables emanated from the mews on the other side of a high brick wall, and Lily could see the roof of a private carriage with a coachman perched on the driver’s seat. This, she thought, was a totally different place to the rough and tumble of Cock Hill. She clung to Gabriel’s arm as they made their way carefully across the snow-covered grass, leaving a tell-tale trail of footprints like ugly blemishes on an otherwise porcelain complexion. He opened the gate. ‘We’ll cut through the back alleys. We’ll be sure to find a cab in Tottenham Court Road.’

  She hesitated, biting her lip. ‘I think I’d rather walk.’

  ‘It’s still snowing. You’ll be soaked to the skin and frozen before you’ve got halfway home.’

  She did not want to admit that she could not afford the cab fare and she shook her head. ‘Even so …’

  ‘Naturally I’m coming with you. I said I’d see you safely home and I wouldn’t dream of asking a lady to pay the cabby. It would make me look like a gigolo.’

  Tempted almost irresistibly by the prospect of a comfortable ride in a hansom, Lily had a vision of Matt’s face if she arrived home accompanied by Gabriel. Alone she might manage to slip into the building unnoticed, but stepping out of a cab would draw attention to herself and her companion. She realised that Gabriel was watching her intently but she still could not bring herself to admit the truth. ‘I wouldn’t want to risk your reputation,’ she said, forcing her cold lips into a smile. ‘Besides which I love the snow, and walking is good for the complexion.’

  ‘Very well, I can’t force you to come for a carriage ride with me, but I hope you’re wearing a stout pair of boots.’