by Dilly Court
‘When did you see him?’
‘Last night. It’s a long story.’ Lily moved away from the banisters. ‘Everard’s coming upstairs. I don’t want him to think we’ve been spying on him.’ She tugged at Luke’s sleeve. ‘You’d best get dressed. I’ll see you at breakfast.’
He paled visibly. ‘Don’t mention food. I’m feeling a bit queasy.’
‘I’ll see you later.’ Lily hurried up the stairs to her room and dressed hastily in a plain navy-blue merino skirt and a white cambric blouse. She sat in front of the dressing table and was brushing her hair when Prissy burst into the room. Lily swivelled round to look at her. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘They’re going to send the master to prison,’ Prissy said breathlessly. ‘Cook and Parsons are in a panic downstairs. They say we’ll be out on the street afore the day’s out.’
‘Nonsense,’ Lily said with more conviction than she was feeling. ‘The master will sort things out. It’s probably just a misunderstanding with the tradesmen.’
‘No, miss. It’s worse than that. We know that the bills haven’t been paid for months. Cook says she’ll go to her brother’s house in Southwark, although she don’t get on with his missis, and Parsons is in her room packing even as we speak.’
Lily’s fingers trembled as she attempted to put her hair up and a lock of hair escaped.
Prissy hurried to her side, taking the brush from her hand. ‘Lord, miss. How will you manage without me?’ With a few deft strokes and the aid of ribbon and pins, she coiled Lily’s long hair into a coronet. ‘There you are, now you look a real bobby-dazzler.’ Prissy’s smile faded as she met Lily’s eyes in the mirror. ‘But where will we go, miss? I ain’t leaving you, even if we has to sleep in the Thames Tunnel with the tramps.’
‘It won’t come to that,’ Lily said firmly. ‘Go downstairs and try to calm Cook and Parsons.’
‘And the tweeny and the scullery maid. Then there’s Perks too. He’ll have heard the din from the mews.’
‘Tell everyone to wait until the master has sorted everything out. I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems.’
Lily went downstairs to the dining room with her fingers crossed. She found Luke sitting at the table sipping a cup of coffee. He looked up hopefully. ‘Any news, Lil?’ His expression changed as Everard followed Lily into the room. Luke rose to his feet. ‘I’m sorry, sir. We couldn’t help overhearing what was said.’
Everard’s normally cheerful face seemed to have creased suddenly into a maze of worry lines. ‘I expect it’ll be all round London by now. Bad news travels fast.’
‘Is it that serious?’ Lily asked anxiously. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Only if you can perform miracles, my dear.’ Everard slumped down in his chair at the head of the table. He looked round at the trappings of wealth that adorned the room. ‘I can’t pay,’ he said simply. ‘We’ve been living above our means for so long that it’s become a way of life. I pinned all my hopes on selling my latest work at a price that would satisfy all my creditors, but it was not to be.’
‘You can’t just give up,’ Lily cried passionately. ‘Can’t you sell some of the silver?’
‘It’s rented,’ Everard said, shaking his head. ‘Most of the furniture is rented and the bailiffs are returning at midday. It doesn’t give me time to raise the money, and I’ve exhausted all the sources from whom I might get a loan.’
Luke rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet. ‘I think I’d best leave now, sir. Thank you for introducing me to your friends.’
‘I doubt if they’ll be speaking to me when I’m in Cold Bath Fields Prison,’ Everard said with a glint of his old humour. ‘You’ve got talent, Luke. Don’t waste it.’
Lily was tempted to beg her brother to stay but she managed to restrain herself. ‘What will you do now, Luke? Will you go home?’
‘I don’t know, but I’ve nowhere else to go and maybe Matt will be a bit more reasonable this morning. I’ll grovel if necessary.’
‘Don’t stop writing,’ Everard called after him as Luke left the room. ‘Good luck, my boy.’
Lily saw Luke out of the house. ‘Keep in touch,’ she called as he loped off along the street. He gave her a cheerful wave before disappearing around the corner. She returned to the dining room and found Everard still sitting at the table with his food untouched. He looked suddenly much older and smaller, as if he had shrunk to half his normal size. She knelt at his side. ‘There must be something we can do to keep the creditors happy until you sell your painting. What about Ma’s jewellery? That must be worth a small fortune. I could take it to the pawnshop …’
Everard met her eyes with an attempt at a smile. ‘You are a good girl, Lily. But Cara’s jewels are all paste. They would fetch very little and she would never forgive me if I took them from her.’
‘But she loves you,’ Lily protested. ‘She would do anything to save you from jail. Does she know how serious things are?’
‘She is an innocent in such matters,’ Everard said fondly. ‘I love to spoil her and indulge her every whim just to see that beautiful smile of hers. I fear this will break her heart.’
Lily rose to her feet. Suddenly she was angry, both with her mother for being so utterly selfish and with Everard for turning a grown woman into an overindulged child. ‘And you are just going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself? Are you going to walk into prison without even trying to do something to prevent such a disaster?’
Everard shook his head. ‘I’m tired, Lily. You can’t begin to understand what a difficult life I lead. I’m a third-rate artist clinging to the fringes of those who have real talent, but it is all I know. I have no other profession and no head for business. I love luxury and beauty and I fear that without them I will shrivel and die.’ He buried his face in his hands, rocking to and fro in his chair.
Her anger dissolved into pity for this frail person who seemed to have given up on life itself. Lily had lost her appetite, but she was not going to give in as easily as her stepfather. She left the room and marched upstairs to her mother’s boudoir, entering without knocking. The odour of stale perfume, alcohol and cigar smoke was nauseating. The room was stuffy and airless. Lily went to the window, drew back the curtains and flung up the sash. ‘Ma, wake up.’
A muffled groan from the depths of the four-poster was the only answer Lily received. She moved swiftly to the bedside and drew back the curtains. Charlotte blinked and pulled the pillow over her head, but Lily was having none of this, and she snatched it away. ‘Ma, wake up. There’s trouble.’
Charlotte raised herself on one elbow, blinking and shielding her eyes from the light. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘The bailiffs, Ma. They’re going to seize your property if Everard can’t pay up by midday and he’s likely to end up in jail.’ There was no easy way to put things and even though her instinct was to sympathise, Lily chose not to let her mother down lightly. She pulled the covers back as her mother attempted to slide further down the bed. ‘You’re not getting away so easily, Ma. Everard needs you. He’s in a bad way.’
‘Oh, darling, don’t nag me,’ Charlotte whimpered. ‘Send for Parsons. I need a seltzer and a cup of hot chocolate before I can even begin to think.’
Lily hesitated, staring at her mother in dismay. What, she wondered, would it take to make Ma face reality?
‘Ring the bell, please,’ Charlotte moaned. ‘My head is splitting.’
Lily could imagine the state of chaos in the servants’ quarters and she doubted if anyone would answer the summons, but she tugged at the bell pull anyway and murmuring an excuse she left the room.
Downstairs in the basement kitchen there was, as Lily had anticipated, an atmosphere of near panic. Cook was nowhere to be seen but there were thumps and muttered swearing emanating from the small room where she slept at night. The scullery maid was sitting on a stool with her apron over her head while Parsons strode up and down, wringing her hands. The tweeny had her hat and coat on and
announced that she was going home to her parents in Limehouse before the bailiffs came and clapped her in jail. Seemingly oblivious to the situation, Prissy was in the scullery washing the breakfast dishes.
‘Cook’s busy packing,’ Prissy said in answer to Lily’s enquiry. ‘Miss Parsons, you’ll do yourself a mischief if you keep going on like that,’ she added, frowning.
Parsons threw up her hands. ‘The disgrace will ruin me,’ she moaned. ‘Who will take on a lady’s maid from a discredited family? My reputation will be tarnished forever.’
‘I’m sure it’s not as bad as that,’ Lily said, making an effort to sound confident, although secretly she thought that Parsons was right. ‘Mr Everard will think of something, I’m sure of that.’
‘I wish I had your confidence in him,’ Parsons snapped. ‘I had my doubts about taking the position with Mrs Faulkner and heaven knows my friends told me not to consider throwing my lot in with artists. I wish I’d taken their advice. What is to become of me?’
‘Mrs Faulkner would like a cup of hot chocolate,’ Lily said tentatively.
‘Let her come down here and make it herself then. I’m going to pack my bag and escape from this madhouse.’ Parsons stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
‘I’ll make the chocolate,’ Prissy volunteered. ‘You go on up and comfort the poor lady. I’ll bring it to her room when it’s ready.’
The scullery maid gave a loud moan. ‘Me dad will kill me. There are fifteen mouths to feed at our house and he’ll give me the strap for losing me job.’
Lily stared helplessly at the girl whose head was still covered with the grubby apron.
‘Pay no heed to her,’ Prissy said, shaking her head. ‘She’s not got all her buttons, if you get my meaning. Too many cuffs around the head have left her a bit simple, but don’t worry, miss. I’ll get the cleaning woman to take her in; she’s a good sort and has taken quite a shine to poor Minnie.’
‘Thank you, Prissy. I’ll go and find Mr Everard and see if we can’t sort something out before the bailiffs return at noon.’ Lily left Prissy in charge of the kitchen and went in search of Everard. She found him in his study, sitting at his desk staring into space. She took a seat opposite him. ‘There must be something we can do.’
He shook his head, pointing to a sheaf of bills tied with red tape. ‘We would have to rob a bank to pay off our creditors. I hadn’t realised that things had gone so far.’
‘Is there no way you could raise even some of the money?’
‘Sadly no. I’ve borrowed from friends as it is and I can’t repay them. That hurts even more than my debts to the tradesmen.’
‘Perhaps they might take some of your paintings?’ Lily suggested hopefully. ‘The ones hanging on the staircase are really good and I’m sure they must be worth a lot of money.’
‘You’re too kind, Lily. I’m afraid the art critics don’t agree with you. They call my work daubs, and they have been less kind to my beloved Carla. One of them said her latest work could have been done by a blind baboon, which was particularly cruel and totally uncalled for.’
‘What will you do?’ Lily’s heart ached for him and she wished she could do something to help, but she was powerless as well as penniless. It seemed to her at that moment that the whole world was against them.
Everard raised his head to look at her and she saw defeat in his eyes.
‘There’s nothing I can do but wait for the inevitable, Lily. It’s all my fault, of course. I should have been firmer with your mother and I should have kept track of our income and outgoings.’
Lily leapt to her feet, casting her gaze around the room. ‘There must be something you could pawn. We could go through all your valuables right now, and I’ll take them to the nearest pop-shop.’ She fingered a silver and cut glass inkstand. ‘This would raise a bob or two.’
Everard shrugged his shoulders. ‘That fortunately is bought and paid for. Take it, Lily, but as to the rest, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Lily cried passionately. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll do what I can.’ She went round the room picking items up and then replacing them when Everard shook his head. Having exhausted the options in the study, Lily raced upstairs to demand help from her mother, but Charlotte refused to give up any of her jewels, laughing at the notion that they were clever imitations. ‘You’re being hysterical, my darling,’ she said, sitting up in bed to sip her hot chocolate. ‘Everard will send the bailiffs away with a flea in their big ugly ears. Now go away and allow your mama to get dressed. Oh, and ring the bell for Parsons on your way out.’
Lily tugged at the bell pull, knowing full well that Parsons would not respond. She was saddened by her mother’s intransigent attitude, but she realised that Ma was living in a world of make-believe. Lily dreaded to think what would happen when the world created for her mother by a doting Everard came tumbling down around their heads.
Taking the few items she could find of value, Lily enlisted Prissy’s help in locating a pawnshop. They went together and Lily bargained hard to get a good price for the valuables, coming away satisfied with her efforts but worried that the sum they had raised would not be enough to buy off the creditors even temporarily.
It was midday when they returned to Keppel Street breathless and panting, having run the last few hundred yards. The front door was open and Lily paused on the top step, her heart racing inside her breast. She could hear her mother’s hysterical sobs and shrieks even before she entered the house.
Prissy squeezed her hand. ‘Best hurry with the money.’
It was good advice and Lily hurried to the morning parlour where she could hear raised voices. Just as she reached the door, Everard emerged handcuffed to a burly police constable. The bailiff’s men were close on their heels.
‘Everard, I’ve got the money,’ Lily gasped. ‘Please, constable, let him go. I can pay something towards the debt.’
One of the bailiffs held out his hand to take the purse from Lily. Without bothering to open it, he weighed it in his hand. ‘No hope, miss.’ He tossed it back to her. ‘Keep it to buy the old bloke privileges when you visit him in the debtors’ jail.’
Chapter Eighteen
The bailiffs cleared the house of everything that had belonged to Charlotte and Everard. Most of the furnishings were the property of the landlord, and the rented silver and china were quickly reclaimed by their owner. The paintings were stripped from the wall despite Lily’s protests, and taken off to a gallery to be valued and auctioned at a later date. Charlotte was distraught and hysterical and it took all Lily’s efforts plus a hefty dose of laudanum to calm her down. Leaving her mother lying in a drugged sleep with her flame-coloured hair spilling over the pillow reminiscent of one of the paintings she so admired, Lily went slowly downstairs. Silence echoed through the empty house and bare patches on the walls, once adorned by Everard’s paintings, bore testament to the thoroughness of the bailiffs’ work.
In the dining room the mahogany credenza had been stripped of the silver and the cut glass decanters. The epergne was gone from the centre of the dining table and the mantelshelf was bare of ornaments. The room had the sad and empty look of an unloved house put up for sale; the same was true of the morning parlour and Everard’s study. The books had gone from the shelves and there was a space in the corner where the grandfather clock had ticked away the minutes, chiming the quarters and hours in sonorous tones.
Lily made her way downstairs to find the kitchen deserted except for Prissy, who was stirring a pan on the range. She looked up at the sound of Lily’s footsteps on the flagstones and she grinned. ‘I managed to save the stew, but the greedy vultures rifled through the larder snatching everything they could and filling their pockets as well as their greedy gobs. They’d have took the soup but it was too hot to handle.’
‘Where is Cook?’
‘She’s gone, and so has Parsons. They’ve all scarpered except for me and I ain’t going nowhere withou
t you, miss.’
‘You’re a good girl, Prissy,’ Lily said with feeling. ‘But I can’t pay you, and when they force us to leave this house I’ve nowhere to go.’
‘Something will turn up,’ Prissy said confidently. ‘Sit down and I’ll serve the soup, unless you’d like me to bring your grub to the dining room. You can’t let your standards slip just because of a little upset.’
Lily smiled, shaking her head. Prissy had sounded just like Aggie, but the memory of last night with the family was still fresh in her mind and even more painful in the light of day. She could not go home; she had no home. She sat down at the table as her knees threatened to give way beneath her and the enormity of their situation hit her with full force. In between her attempts at raising money to pay off the bailiffs and dealing with her mother’s hysterics she had not until now had time to think about the future.
Prissy placed a bowl of soup on the table in front of Lily. ‘There you are, I wants to see that all gone. Shall I take some up to the missis?’
‘No, let her sleep. She can have something to eat when she wakes.’ Lily stared at the vegetables swimming in beef stock. The aroma was tempting but her stomach revolted at the sight of food and she pushed the plate away. ‘I’m sorry, Prissy, but I’m not very hungry.’
Prissy stood over her like a small but determined terrier. ‘You must eat, miss. You got to keep your strength up.’
Lily shook her head mutely.
‘Just a spoonful, there’s a good girl,’ Prissy said, using a tone she might have used to cajole a small child. ‘Just to please me, miss.’
Too emotionally exhausted to refuse, Lily picked up the spoon and took a mouthful.
Prissy nodded and smiled, taking a seat opposite Lily. ‘You’ll feel better with some vittles inside you. We got to have a plan, miss. They’ll be back afore long and we’ll be turned out on the street. I seen it happen no end of times in the village.’
