by Dilly Court
Angel fingered her mother’s ring, taking comfort from the familiar object covered by the bodice of her woollen frock, which paled into insignificance when compared to the gown Susannah was wearing. Angel had seen well-dressed young ladies promenading in the Strand, and the creation in shimmering shot taffeta that changed colour from pink to purple with every movement of Susannah’s lithe young body, was undoubtedly the height of fashion. Her glossy curls, the colour of a raven’s wings, were tied with matching ribbons and her large brown eyes sparkled with health and vitality. Angel was suddenly conscious of her own pallor and her skinny body. She was as flat chested as young Humphrey, whereas Susannah was developing the curves of adolescence and would soon blossom into a beautiful young woman. Angel felt like a sparrow confronting a peacock, and when she caught Hector’s quizzical glance she could see that he had formed the same opinion. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement as they met her defiant look, and his generous lips curved in a grin. He was undoubtedly the most handsome young man she had ever seen, and he had the height and bearing of an athlete.
‘Welcome to Grantley madhouse, Angel,’ Hector said, chuckling. ‘You are the first and probably the last angel I’ll ever meet.’
‘Are you really an angel?’ Humphrey asked innocently. ‘Where are your wings?’
‘They’re locked up in Mrs Kerslake’s office,’ Toby said, struggling to keep a straight face. ‘She’s only allowed them when she goes to heaven for a visit.’
‘Stop it, boys.’ Eloise rose from the sofa with a swish of starched petticoats and a waft of tuberose and orris-root perfume. ‘Uncle Dolph has brought Angel to live with us, so I expect you to treat her kindly.’ She turned to Susannah. ‘That goes for you, too, miss. Having a girl close to your own age can only be beneficial.’
Angel met Susannah’s cold stare with a sinking feeling in her heart. She had seen that expression many times in the eyes of the flower girls, usually before they pulled her hair or threatened her with bodily harm. Life at Grantley Park might appear to be one of luxury and fun, but she had felt the undercurrents and she knew it was not going to be easy.
Chapter Seven
Grantley Park, Summer 1878
Angel hitched the trug over her arm as she let herself into the walled garden. The sun blazed down from a clear azure sky and the air was filled with the droning of bees, birdsong and the heady fragrance of flowers. The scent of lavender never failed to take her back to Covent Garden market and the stall owned by Jack Wicks. Despite the ease and luxury of living in Grantley Park, she had never forgotten the kindness that Jack had shown her, and although she had often wondered how the Wicks family were getting along on the other side of the marsh, there had never seemed a right time to pay them a visit. Danny Wicks had made it clear that he considered her to be a nuisance, but that was years ago and it was more lack of opportunity that had kept her tied to Grantley. Life here was never dull, especially when the boys were at home.
Angel took a pair of scissors from the pocket of her hessian apron and snipped sprigs of lavender to add to the trug, which was already filled with pink moss roses and sprays of baby’s breath. It was another world within the red-brick walls of the kitchen garden, peaceful and well ordered, and an escape in times when family squabbles and strife became too much to bear. Angel wandered along the gravel paths between the neatly tended beds of vegetables and the flowers grown to adorn the house. Arranging them was one of her favourite tasks, whatever the season. In midwinter she gathered branches groaning with red berries and bulrushes from the edges of the lake, but in the months when there was next to nothing worth picking, and the berries had been consumed by the hungry wildlife, she had to rely on flowers grown the previous summer, which had been hung to dry in the flower room. As always, she could not wait for the spring, when snowdrops covered the ground on either side of the carriage sweep, followed by sunshine-yellow clumps of primroses peeping out from beneath the hedgerows and the final glory of scented bluebells that carpeted the woods.
She bent down to cut a small bunch of clove-scented pinks to put in a cut-glass vase for Aunt Eloise, as she had been instructed to call Mrs Devane soon after her arrival at Grantley. Their relationship was fragile and often quite difficult, but Angel had learned to hold her tongue when Eloise chose to needle her into an argument, although sometimes she was driven beyond the limit and retaliated in kind. The result of these spats often lasted for days, until eventually Angel was forced to apologise, if only for the sake of the whole household, who suffered miserably when Mrs Devane was in one of her black moods. Oddly enough, the only person who could deal with her during one of these bouts was Lil. She was a little older now, and a few pounds heavier, and her hair was an odd shade of pepper and salt, but she had lost none of her fighting spirit and she knew exactly how to handle Eloise Devane.
The trug was filled to the brim and Angel was about to leave the peace and tranquillity of the walled garden when she heard Susannah calling her name. There was a note of urgency in her voice that made Angel hurry, when normally she would have made Susannah wait until she was ready to deal with whatever the young lady wanted. They were friends, most of the time, but Susannah was still the spoiled darling, adored by her mother and indulged by her uncle. Her brothers teased her, but Susannah had them exactly where she wanted them, and with a flutter of her ridiculously long eyelashes or a persuasive smile that showed off her dimples, she could usually wrap them round her little finger. But there was one exception and that was Hector.
Angel’s hand trembled as her fingers closed on the sun-warmed metal latch. Hector, for all his bluff and bravado, had been her favourite from the moment she first saw him. He was too handsome for his own good and she knew that all the young ladies in the neighbourhood were madly in love with him. He was, after all, heir to Grantley Park and he was a dashing captain in the Royal Artillery.
‘Angel. Where are you? Come here at once – I need you.’ Susannah’s voice rang out loud and clear, echoing off the walls of the kitchen garden.
Angel opened the gate and emerged into the cool green shade of an ancient oak tree. Humphrey had once climbed it as a dare and had reached the top, startling the nesting birds. In his hasty descent he had missed his footing and come crashing through the branches to land badly. Toby, who had egged him on mercilessly, had run to the house for help, leaving Angel to minister to the dazed nine-year-old. Humphrey had broken his arm and suffered a mild concussion. Although she had had nothing to do with the dare, Angel had been implicated simply by her presence. Toby’s allowance had been stopped for the whole of the following school term, and Angel had been confined to the schoolroom for two weeks and given a pile of mending, which Aunt Eloise inspected every day. If her stitches were too big or her darning not considered neat enough, Angel had to unpick the work and start again.
She walked to meet Susannah, who came hurrying across the smooth grassy sward, holding her blue-and-white dimity morning gown above her ankles in what her mother would have considered the most unladylike manner. ‘What are you doing, Angel? Why are you wasting time picking flowers? You’re needed in the house.’
‘What’s the matter, Sukey?’
‘Don’t call me that,’ Susannah said crossly. ‘It makes me sound like a housemaid.’
Angel fell into step beside her. ‘And, of course, you’re a young lady now. This is all about you, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Susannah quickened her pace. ‘Blanche will be here in less than an hour and Mama is lying down with one of her headaches. I need you to help me get ready and you must sit with us in the drawing room.’
‘So you need a chaperone,’ Angel said, laughing. ‘I take it that Blanche won’t be on her own, or you wouldn’t need me.’
‘I suppose Rupert might be with her, and it wouldn’t be proper for me to entertain them on my own.’
‘You could have asked Lil.’ Angel linked her hand through Susannah’s arm. ‘I’m just teasing. Of course I’ll b
e there for you. Rupert is very dashing, even if he isn’t very bright.’
‘If you say anything to embarrass him I’ll never speak to you again, Angel Winter.’
‘I promise to be the perfect chaperone. I’ll sit quietly and I won’t say a word that will put Rupert Westwood’s nose out of joint.’
Susannah gave her a withering look. ‘Your vulgarisms betray your time on the streets, Angel. Haven’t you learned anything during your time here with us?’
‘I am one of you,’ Angel said softly. ‘Sir Adolphus adopted me legally. We are cousins, Sukey.’
‘On paper, maybe.’ Susannah came to a halt outside the front entrance. ‘You don’t know who your mother was.’
‘Thank you for reminding me. I might have forgotten that I’m not like you.’ Angel thrust the door open and stepped over the threshold. The house, as always, seemed to wrap itself around her with a gentle welcoming hug.
‘I didn’t mean it,’ Susannah said urgently. ‘I’m sorry, Angel. It’s just that I don’t know what I’ll do if Blanche doesn’t invite me to their ball. I’m nineteen, and what chance do I have of meeting eligible young men if I never go anywhere other than church, and the occasional stay in the dreary London house in the most unfashionable part of town?’
‘Then we have to be extremely nice to Blanche and hope that she obliges with an invitation to her coming-out ball.’
Susannah headed for the staircase. ‘It’s not as if it’s a proper coming-out ball. I mean, she isn’t being presented at Court, even though Sir Eugene is a Member of Parliament.’
‘I know that, Sukey, and Rupert is in the same regiment as Hector, and he might get posted to India or South Africa, and then what would you do?’
‘I think I’d die of a broken heart.’
‘Come on, Sukey, it’s not as bad as that,’ Angel said wearily. ‘Let’s go upstairs and choose an afternoon gown. I’ll do your hair.’
Susannah stopped halfway up with wide staircase. ‘I should have asked Cook to make some little fancy cakes. You will have time to do the flowers, won’t you? Just in the drawing room, and in the hall, too.’
‘Stop worrying. I’ll ask Lil to do the cakes – she has an amazingly light hand when it comes to such things – and I’ll see to the flowers as soon as you’re settled.’ Angel gave her a gentle shove. ‘Up you go, Sukey. I’ll make you so beautiful that Captain Westwood will fall at your feet.’
‘Maybe Hector will be home in time for the ball.’
Angel had no answer to this and she followed Susannah upstairs to the large bedroom overlooking the parterre garden at the rear of the house. Having gone through every afternoon gown that Susannah possessed, they opted for the cream shantung trimmed with blonde lace. Angel had to tug hard as she tightened Susannah’s stays in an attempt to whittle her waist down to nineteen inches, but after a great deal of effort on her part and groans of protest from Susannah, they managed to fit her into the gown.
‘I shan’t be able to eat anything, not even the smallest fairy cake,’ Susannah said breathlessly. ‘If anyone says anything to upset me I’ll probably swoon.’
‘Make sure you faint into Rupert’s arms then.’ Angel moved to the rosewood dressing table and picked up the silver-backed hairbrush. ‘Sit down and stop grumbling. As Lil always says – pride feels no pain.’
‘She doesn’t wear a corset, or if she does it’s very loose. That woman always looks like a sack of potatoes.’
‘I wouldn’t let her hear you say that,’ Angel said, laughing. ‘Lil is a wonderful friend but she hasn’t got a sense of humour.’
Susannah lowered herself stiffly onto the stool, staring at her reflection in the mirror. ‘I think I have a spot coming, right on the tip of my nose. It will be huge by the time they arrive.’
‘Nonsense. It’s just your imagination, Sukey. You look perfectly fine.’ Angel brushed Susannah’s thick hair until it shone, and then pinned it up in a deceptively simply style, allowing a few tendrils to curl around Susannah’s forehead. ‘There, you’re done. If that doesn’t knock Captain Westwood for six, nothing will.’
Susannah regarded her reflection critically, and for a moment Angel thought that she was going to complain, but her pouting lips curved into a delighted smile. ‘Thank you, Angel. If you end up a spinster you could become a coiffeuse or a lady’s maid. Anyway, that’s by the bye – you’d best see to the flowers, and remind them in the kitchen that we have important guests coming for afternoon tea.’
‘And what will you be doing while I’m running round after you, Your Highness?’
‘Don’t be sour, Angel. Just because I have a gentleman admirer and you don’t. Maybe one day Hector will notice you, but beware of that because he’d never marry you. He has his sights set on becoming a major-general at the very least, and he’s on the lookout for a rich wife with a good pedigree.’ She turned her head to give Angel a pitying smile. ‘I’m sorry, but there it is. You don’t know who your parents were.’
‘Don’t be sorry, Susannah. I have no intention of marrying anyone. I intend to become a woman of means. I’m not sure how I’ll go about it, but I wouldn’t want to risk ending up like my poor mama, whoever she was.’ Angel left the room before Susannah had a chance to ramble on in her tactless way and make matters worse. Of course, she had only spoken the truth and Angel was well aware of the disadvantage of her birth. She would probably never know the identity of her parents, and no gentleman would want to marry a foundling. She went to the kitchen to pass on Susannah’s message, but Lil had already made a batch of small cakes and was in the process of icing them. Considering the size of her hands and sausage-like fingers, she could execute surprisingly delicate work and her sugar-paste flowers always earned praise, even from Eloise, who was notoriously fussy.
‘I should be doing this for your benefit, not her ladyship’s,’ Lil said grudgingly. ‘That young madam has it all her own way.’
Cook looked up from the pastry she was rolling out. ‘You shouldn’t speak of the family in that way, Lil. It ain’t respectful.’
‘I respect those who earn it,’ Lil retorted, sniffing. ‘Miss Susannah is a spoiled minx and Angel is worth ten of her.’
Angel could see that this was going to turn into a heated argument and she held up her hand. ‘Whatever you think of the family, just remember that we’re beholden to Sir Adolphus and Mrs Devane for taking us in, Lil. In any case, Miss Susannah thinks very highly of your cakes, and she is always praising Mrs Jones’s cooking skills.’
‘So there, Lumpy Lil,’ Cook said, pointing the rolling pin at her. ‘Maybe you should think before you speak.’
‘It’s Miss Heavitree to you, Eudora Jones.’ Lil added a sugar-paste flower to the last tiny cake and stood back, admiring her work. ‘I could have been a confectioner if I’d had the advantage of training.’
‘Indeed you could,’ Angel said smiling. ‘Do you know where Dolly is? I might need her help with the flowers as I’m running out of time.’
‘What a palaver.’ Lil shook her head. ‘You’d think the Queen was coming to tea.’
Angel made her escape from the kitchen. Cook and Lil were constantly at loggerheads but she suspected that they quite enjoyed their spats, and Dolly wisely kept out of the way when the two of them were working in the kitchen. Lil had no particular duties at Grantley. She helped out where she was needed, and Angel knew that Aunt Eloise would have sacked her years ago if it had not been for Sir Adolphus. He had a soft spot for Lil and had said on more than one occasion that, had she been a man, he would gladly have had her in his regiment. But Lil had one particular gift that earned her permanent position in the household: she had a way with animals and a knowledge of herbal remedies that could ease the suffering of a lame horse or cure a sick dog. She spent much of her time in the stables, and Caesar was her particular favourite. He was too old to be taken on active service and Sir Adolphus had reluctantly had to leave him behind when he returned to duty in South Africa. The horse had been off
his feed after his master’s departure, and Lil was the only one who could tempt him to eat. She slept in his stall for several nights while he was on the brink of collapse, grooming him and talking to him with such tenderness that it brought tears to Angel’s eyes. Lil might not be beautiful, and outwardly she was belligerent and short-tempered, but she had a big heart, as Angel knew only too well. It was Lil who had been her surrogate mother since that snowy Christmas morning when Uncle Joseph had paid her fine and had her released from police custody. Lil was her friend and confidante, and the one person on whom she knew she could rely.
Angel found Dolly in the laundry room, helping Meg fold the freshly ironed sheets. Meg Potter was a girl from the village who had started as a scullery maid and risen to the position of chambermaid under the aegis of Mrs Kerslake. But times had changed, as had the fortunes of Grantley. Mrs Kerslake had retired to live in Hampshire with her brother, and Miss Langdon, Mrs Devane’s personal maid, had found employment elsewhere. Meg now did the work of chambermaid and lady’s maid. In a similar fashion, Dolly had been a scullery maid at the beginning, but she was quick and willing and had been promoted to parlour maid. Angel was certain that her friend could do even better and, for the last year or so, had been encouraging her to hone her skills so that she might rise to the dizzy heights of lady’s maid. In their free moments they studied the fashion plates in the Young Ladies’ Journal, the Ladies’ Companion and the Queen, and Dolly practised her hairdressing skills on Angel, with varying degrees of success. Susannah laughed at their efforts but she was quick enough to enlist Dolly’s help when it came to mending the lace on her petticoat or darning her expensive silk stockings. Sir Adolphus gave Susannah a generous dress allowance, but it was soon spent and then she was forced to make economies. Angel had no such luxury and she had to rely on Mrs Devane’s charity and Susannah’s cast-offs, but even so, she was much better dressed than she had ever been since leaving Spital Square. She did not waste time fretting about what might have been or envying Susannah her good fortune. Her brief time in the workhouse and selling flowers on the streets had ever shown her a way of life that was hard and brutal and, even though she knew she would never be considered part of the family, she was grateful to Sir Adolphus for giving her a second chance.
