by Dilly Court
‘I’m sorry to hear it, miss.’ Taking the crock out of the oven, Tilly was relieved to find that it was still warm. Removing the lid, she tested the meat with the tip of her finger and found that it was tender to the point of falling off the bone. Placing the dish on the hob, she added more coal to the fire and turned to Harriet, who was now leaning against the dresser, breathing deeply and fanning herself with her hand.
‘Supper won’t be long, Miss Hattie. You’ll feel better when you’ve had something to eat.’
Harriet managed a tremulous smile. ‘What would I do without you, Tilly?’
In spite of her mixed emotions, Tilly managed to serve supper to the family in the oak-panelled dining room, where the smell of the previous vicar’s pipe tobacco still lingered. Now that the cat had been returned to the verger, mice had reappeared with a vengeance, scuttling in and out of holes in the woodwork with the audacity of house pets, snatching up crumbs that fell from the table, and sitting on their haunches munching, apparently unafraid of their human hosts. Keeping busy gave Tilly temporary respite from the shock of Clem’s declaration of love and proposal of marriage and Barney’s unexpected and unrepentant return. Valiantly, she stifled the urge to tip the stew over his dark head, ignoring the irrepressible twinkle in his eyes and the disturbing curve of his sensuous mouth that still had the power to make her go weak at the knees.
Having cleared the main course, Tilly brought in a platter of bread and cheddar cheese, stepping over the mice on the way.
Shuddering, Harriet flicked her table napkin at a particularly bold rodent. ‘We really must get a cat of our own, Francis.’
‘Really, Harriet, there are more important matters than keeping the mouse population under control.’
‘I once found a whole nest of mice in my wig,’ Barney said, grinning at Tilly as she laid the platter in front of him. ‘You should have seen Bootle’s face; the poor chap is terrified of mice. I thought he was going to have a seizure.’
Finding it almost impossible to ignore him, Tilly bit her lip to prevent herself from giggling. Really, she thought, Barney was the most impossible rogue. One minute she wanted to strike him dead and the next moment he was making her laugh.
Francis did not look amused. ‘It’s not a laughing matter, Barnaby. And you ought to be contemplating either giving yourself up to the authorities and taking your punishment like a man, or leaving the country and staying away until the scandal blows over.’
Having lingered as long as she dared, Tilly did not hear Barney’s reply. Reluctantly, she returned to the kitchen and the clay sink piled high with dirty dishes. Emptying a pan of hot water into the sink, she added some soda crystals and swished the water with a dishcloth until the soda melted. Washing the dishes, she tried to banish Barney’s smiling face from her thoughts but it seemed as though his essence was in the very air that she breathed. She realised, with a sense of shock, that she was actually pleased to see him again. In spite of everything, deep down she wanted to believe that he had trusted Jessie to see that she came to no harm, but that did not mean she was ready to forgive him.
The clatter of plates on the table behind her made Tilly spin round. Barney stood there, angling his head and giving her a speculative look. ‘Well now, tell me what went wrong. I can see you’re harbouring a grudge, but honest to God, I thought I was leaving you in safe hands.’
‘You wasn’t – I mean you didn’t. Your friend Jessie Jameson is evil.’
‘That’s a bit strong.’ For once, Barney was not smiling.
‘When she heard you’d bolted, she made me pay for my keep like the rest of her girls.’
‘What?’ The words exploded from Barney’s lips. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What do you think I mean? She sold me to that bastard Stanley Blessed, the man I used to skivvy for. He was always trying to get inside my bloomers and she helped him do it.’
‘You mean you were raped?’
‘Well, I don’t know what else you’d call it. She put me to sleep with some smelly stuff and when I woke up he was there . . .’ Tilly’s voice broke on a sob, but she brushed the angry tears from her eyes, pushing Barney away as he came towards her with his arms outstretched. ‘No, don’t touch me. It was all your fault. You put me in jeopardy – see, I learnt that word working for you. I was a lady type-writer and you turned me into a tart and now look at me! Back to being a skivvy and you done it – I mean you did it.’
‘Tilly, honestly, I trusted Jessie. I’d never have left you with her if I’d thought for a minute that any harm might befall you.’
‘Really? Why don’t I believe you? You was – I mean you were only thinking about saving your own skin.’
‘That’s true. I admit I’m a selfish swine but I’ve never taken a woman by force. I’ll have words with Jessie about this, I promise you.’
‘A lot of good that will do me. It’s too late; you can’t do nothing about it now.’
Taking Tilly by the shoulders, Barney gave her a gentle shake. ‘I’m so very sorry. Look at me, Tilly. I want you to believe me.’
Unable to speak, Tilly shook her head.
‘You are all right, aren’t you? I mean, he didn’t do you lasting harm . . . and you’re not . . .’
‘I’m not in the family way, if that’s what you mean. I’m over it now.’
‘My God, Tilly. I’d like to kill Blessed and wring Jessie’s neck. I really thought I was looking after you.’
Looking up reluctantly, Tilly knew that he was telling the truth. ‘So you’re sorry. Tomorrow you’ll be gone and you’ll forget all about me.’
A slow smile lit Barney’s eyes and with one finger he tilted Tilly’s chin. ‘That’s not true. You’re not the sort of girl a man could forget easily, Tilly True.’ Bending his head, he brushed her lips with a kiss. ‘And I am deeply, deeply sorry for causing you pain and distress.’
The touch of his lips was lighter than the softest breeze but Tilly’s lips burned and her blood fizzed with inexplicable desire. The scent of him was in her nostrils; the taste of him in her mouth and it was all she could do not to throw her arms around his neck, demanding more. Backing away, she wiped her lips on the back of her hand. ‘You’re all talk and trousers. Go away and leave me alone.’
‘Don’t worry; I’ll be gone by morning. My brother Dolph has bought me a commission in the army. I’m going to join my regiment tomorrow and God knows where they’ll send me.’
‘If that’s true then why didn’t you tell the Reverend and Miss Hattie? Why let them think the worst of you?’
‘Dolph refused to help Francis. I’m the black sheep of the family, so how do you think he’d feel knowing that our elder brother paid a large sum of money to be rid of me?’
‘He’s a vicar. He’s supposed to think good of everyone.’
‘He’s human, Tilly. But I will tell Hattie and let her break it to him when I’ve gone.’
With her lips still tingling and her pulse not quite back to normal, Tilly tossed her head. ‘Good riddance to you, I say. You’re nothing but trouble.’
Smiling deeply into her eyes, Barney laid his finger on her lips. ‘You don’t mean that, my pet.’
‘I do mean it, with all my heart.’ Even as the words left her mouth, Tilly knew that it was a lie.
‘You and I are the same kind of rascal, Tilly, and one thing I do promise you is that we will meet again. Somewhere, sometime, we will meet again.’ With a mock bow, Barney saluted her and walked out of the kitchen.
Tilly pulled out a chair and sat down as her legs threatened to give way beneath her. What was happening to her? First Clem and now Barney, two men as different from each other as it was possible to be, and both of them, having upset her equilibrium, had gone off to be soldiers. ‘Bloody men!’ Tilly said out loud. ‘Who flaming well needs them?’
‘We will have to make economies,’ Francis said, standing with his back to Tilly and Harriet, staring out of his study window that looked out over the tops of the lichen-
covered headstones in the graveyard to the church beyond. ‘Firstly, Mrs Mabb will have to go and you will have to tell her Harriet.’
‘Oh, no! Please, Francis, can’t you do it? You know I’m scared of her, especially when she glares at me out of her one eye.’
‘Don’t be a baby, Harriet. You are the lady of the house and it’s your job to deal with the servants.’
Tilly cleared her throat; she could feel a pulse throbbing in her temple and her palms were sweating. If they could not afford Mrs Mabb’s meagre wage, they almost certainly would want rid of her. ‘What about me, your reverence?’
‘Francis,’ Harriet cried, clasping her hands and with her voice rising to a falsetto. ‘I can’t manage without Tilly. Mrs Mabb, yes, but I’d die if Tilly weren’t here to help me.’
‘Don’t be so melodramatic, Harriet. Of course you wouldn’t die, but I think we can manage to keep Tilly on, albeit with a small cut in her wages.’
‘Don’t worry about that, your reverence. I’ll do anything to help.’ Tilly didn’t add that she would work for nothing as long as she could stay, but she had the satisfaction of seeing Francis turn to her with one of his rare smiles.
‘We’ve come to rely on you, Tilly. It would be a black day for us if we had to lose you.’ Sifting through the correspondence on his desk, Francis pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Harriet. ‘I’ve made a list of the economies I want you to make in the housekeeping, Harriet. We’ve been spending far too much on candles, paraffin and coal. From now on we will only eat meat once a week and buy the cheapest vegetables. Heaven knows, if the poor Irish can survive on potatoes then so can we.’
Glancing at the list, Harriet’s lips trembled. ‘Francis, can’t you write to Dolph and beg him to help us out just a little. I’m certain he might have been more sympathetic if that woman hadn’t been at his elbow all the time.’
‘I’ve already done so, although I don’t expect a reply, and I’ve written to the Missionary Society telling them that we are ready to receive the call at the shortest notice. The slums of Delhi can be little worse than this dreadful place, where there is little respect for life, let alone for the church.’
‘India!’ Harriet’s sad expression was wiped away with a smile. ‘Oh, I do hope they’ll find a place for us soon. I long to see India; the name has a magical ring to it, don’t you think, Tilly?’
‘It does, miss.’
‘And there would be balls and parties at the Residency. So many of our old friends are colonials, it would be heaven.’ Harriet’s eyes shone and she did a twirl in the middle of the room.
‘Harriet, calm down. There’s nothing definite.’ Steepling his fingers, Francis eyed her severely. ‘And we would be working in a mission school, living a quiet life.’
‘Yes, Francis, of course. Is that all?’
‘Yes, but mind what I said about the housekeeping money, Harriet. We can live mainly on bread and cheese and vegetables until the end of the month. Which is a better diet than most of my poor parishioners can afford.’
Slanting a mischievous glance at Tilly, Harriet folded her hands meekly in front of her. ‘Francis, if you will tell Mrs Mabb that we no longer need her, then that will leave Tilly and myself free to go to the market.’
As if he were tired of the whole discussion, Francis bent his head over his papers with a wave of his hands. ‘Yes, all right, go to the market and I’ll have a word with Mrs Mabb.’
Mindful of their depleted budget, Tilly suggested that instead of walking all the way to Spitalfields Market, where they usually bought their fruit and vegetables, they might try the local street markets. She was well aware that the area was rife with crime and violence but what possible harm could befall them in broad daylight? Having survived her terrible ordeals at the hands of Stanley Blessed and Bert Tuffin, Tilly decided that there was little left in the world to frighten her, and if they were going to manage on the pittance that Francis had meted out, then a certain amount of risk was acceptable. Easily convinced and apparently unaware of the darker side of street life, Harriet readily agreed to Tilly’s plan.
Next morning they set off, holding up their skirts and treading carefully to avoid the piles of dog excrement and horse dung, vegetable matter and broken bottles. Tilly and Harriet picked their way between the handcarts and barrows that peddled bruised fruit and rotting vegetables, rancid cheeses huddling beneath shawls of blue-green mould, and meat and offal that was in such a state of decomposition that it deserved a decent burial. The stench was such that the feral cats and dogs sniffing around the stalls backed away when they caught a whiff of the mouldering meat, and it was only the blowflies that seemed to be having a good time. Harriet had turned green and was holding her handkerchief to her nose. Tilly was afraid that she was going to faint.
‘We’ve almost done, miss. We just need some flour and salt and then we can go home.’
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Harriet said, leaning against the brick wall of a warehouse. ‘That meat had maggots crawling all over it.’
‘Don’t look,’ Tilly said, glancing warily over her shoulder. For the most part, they had attracted little interest from the people going about their daily business. Tilly had insisted that Harriet put on her plainest clothes and wrap an old shawl around her head so that they would not stand out in the crowd. But amongst the ragged, unwashed men, women and barefoot, vermin-ridden children, she now realised that they could not hope to be inconspicuous. Catching a movement out of the corner of her eye, Tilly had seen a couple of men skulking in the doorway and she didn’t like the way they were staring. Their faces were half hidden beneath the peaks of the caps pulled down low over their brows, but one of them looked vaguely familiar.
‘Come along,’ Tilly said, tugging at Harriet’s arm. ‘I think we’d best start walking, quickly.’
‘Why? What’s the matter?’
‘Don’t look round, but I think I recognise that chap. He was one of the ones who attacked me and Clem. I said, don’t look round. Walk quickly and we might just get away before they recognise me.’
Towing Harriet by the hand, Tilly set off at a pace that was halfway between walking and running. Hampered by a wicker basket filled with root vegetables as well as a reluctant Harriet, Tilly could go no faster. The clatter of hobnail boots behind them forced her to look round; there was no mistaking them now and it would be impossible to outrun two young men.
Tilly stopped short, turning to face them, thrusting Harriet behind her and sticking her chin out. ‘Stop right there.’ To her amazement they stopped. It seemed that she had taken them by surprise and Tilly pushed home her advantage. ‘You can bugger off. We ain’t got no money so you’re wasting your time.’
Pushing his cap to the back of his head, the ruffian who had been the first to jump on Clem’s cart stuck his fingers in his belt and sauntered up to them. Tilly could see that he was much younger than she had at first supposed: little more than a swaggering youth.
‘Cheeky little cow, ain’t yer?’
‘I ain’t scared by the likes of you, cully.’ Facing him, Tilly prayed that he could not see that she was shaking in her boots.
‘Where’s your pal now when you needs him?’ He took a menacing step forward so that his face was just inches from Tilly’s.
His breath smelt worse than the putrid meat and the few teeth he had were blackened stumps. Summoning all her willpower, Tilly neither flinched nor backed away. ‘You touch me or my friend and my bloke will give you the hiding of your life.’
‘Yeah? Well me and the lads have a score to settle with that one. No one messes with the Old Stairs gang.’ With a swift movement he ripped Tilly’s cotton blouse so that it fell open to her waist.
His mate snorted with laughter. ‘That’ll learn you to talk back to us.’ Grabbing Harriet around the waist, he thrust his hand down the neck of her dress, fumbling her breasts. ‘Hello, darling. How about a knee-trembler in the alley?’
‘Take your hands off me.’
Harriet slapped him round the face.
Holding his cheek, the youth raised his arm to strike back, but Tilly pulled Harriet out of the way. ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourselves; two lads who ought to know better, behaving like hooligans. Ain’t you got mothers or sisters? You’re behaving like bleeding animals.’
Seemingly stunned by Tilly’s verbal attack, the two youths hesitated for a moment, their dirty faces mirroring a multitude of emotions from shock to belligerence. Catching the eye of a burly butcher chopping up a carcass on his stall, Tilly cast him an imploring look and he lumbered across the street.
‘Here, you lads, leave them girls alone.’ Standing with his hands on his hips, his leather apron dripping with blood, he scowled at the youths, who backed away.
‘Give over, Granddad. We’ll set the gang on you.’
‘Clear off or you’ll get my boot up your arses.’ The butcher turned to Tilly and Harriet. ‘You was lucky this time, but I’d keep away from this area if I was you, missies.’
‘Ta, mister. Much obliged.’ Gathering her torn blouse up to her neck, Tilly glanced anxiously at Harriet, who had turned alarmingly pale and was swaying on her feet. ‘Don’t you dare faint, Harriet Palgrave. We’ve got to get away from here, toot sweet as Mrs Bootle would say.’
‘What?’ Dashing her hand across her brow, Harriet looked dazedly at Tilly.
‘Never mind! Just run.’ Taking Harriet by the hand, Tilly broke into a trot.
‘Stop, stop,’ Harriet gasped. ‘I’ve got a stitch.’ Digging her heels in, she stopped and bent double, holding her side.
‘Never mind that. You’ll get worse than a stitch if those lads decide to follow us.’ Tilly glanced over her shoulder; there was no sign of the youths, and their sudden flight seemed to have passed unnoticed. A fight had broken out between two seamen who had staggered out of a pub doorway. That was enough to attract and entertain the mob that had gathered around the brawling men.
‘Come on, we’ve got to get away from here. Be brave, Hattie. It ain’t far now.’
