A Mother's Courage

by Dilly Court

  The next day, after her work in the nursery was done, Eloise waited until Phoebe's back was turned before she gave Joss and Beth a last cuddle and a whispered promise that she would return later that day. Despite his continued silence, she knew that Joss understood what she was saying and she kissed him on the tip of his button nose, just as she had always done, and was rewarded by a sunny smile. 'Be a good boy, sweetheart, and look after Beth while Mama is away.' She thought that Joss nodded but Phoebe had turned to ask her a question and Eloise moved hastily away from their cots.

  Having assured Phoebe that she would be back in time to help settle the babies for the night, Eloise put on her bonnet and shawl ready for the short walk to the governor's house. A calm September had given way to a cool and blustery October, and the wind whipped strands of hair from beneath the brim of her bonnet. She could feel her cheeks glowing with colour as she rapped on the door knocker and waited for someone to answer her summons. When the door opened it was Caine himself who greeted her. It was just a coincidence, of course, but it almost seemed as though he had been awaiting her arrival. He thrust a single red rose into her hand. 'A peace offering, Ellen. I was too harsh with you yesterday, and I remembered how you love roses.'

  It might have been a theatrical gesture, but his embarrassed and almost shy smile made him look ridiculously young and quite unlike the austere, self-contained man whom she had first met. Eloise felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she bent her head to sniff the fragrance, but the perfect flower was unscented. 'Thank you, sir,' she murmured. 'It was kind of you.'

  'It was nothing. I had business near Covent Garden and I saw these in the market.' He stood aside to allow her to pass. 'I'm afraid that hothouse blooms have no scent. They are beautiful but they haven't the honesty and fragrance of a garden flower.' His tone was dismissive as he led the way to the drawing room, holding the door open for her. They have that in common with some people.'

  There was a bitter note in his voice and as Eloise followed his gaze she realised with a sense of shock that he was staring at the portrait of his late wife. 'She was a beautiful woman, sir. You must miss her terribly.'

  He turned his head to give her a piercing look. 'Do you still mourn for your husband, Ellen?'

  'He has been dead less than a year, but I try to remember the happy times we shared.'

  'That sounds as though you have unhappy memories also.'

  'Nothing is perfect,' Eloise said, gazing down at the rose. 'Even this flower. It is so beautiful but it has no fragrance.'

  'No, and that makes it a false bloom to my way of thinking. I cannot stand subterfuge, Ellen. Lies and duplicity kill affection and destroy relationships.' His voice cracked with emotion, but as if he realised that he had revealed too much of his innermost self, he made a valiant attempt at a smile. 'Next summer I will see that the house is filled with honest to goodness garden roses.'

  'I hope I will be here to enjoy them, sir.'

  'Don't worry on that score, Ellen. Now that Maria and I have found you, we will do our best to make you stay.'

  Although his smile was warm, Eloise felt as though a chill breeze had swept through the room. His apparent kindness and concern for her were, as she had feared, just a ploy to persuade her to stay on and look after his child. For a moment, when he had given her the rose, it had seemed that they were about to enter into a more personal relationship. Now they were back on master and servant terms and she had to struggle to hide her disappointment. 'I will do my best for Maria, sir.'

  'Yes, I know that,' Caine said abruptly. 'I'll tell Jessie to send Maria to you, but I have a meeting to attend and I must leave now.' He left the room without a backward glance.

  Eloise looked up at the portrait on the wall and a shiver ran down her spine. There was a touch of self-assurance in Rosamund Caine's expression and a hint of mockery in her lovely smile, as if she were daring Eloise to vie for her husband's affections. It felt as though Caine's dead wife was speaking to her from the grave and issuing a challenge. 'You don't have to worry,' Eloise murmured. 'I know I cannot compete with you.'

  'Who are you talking to, Ellen?'

  Maria's childish voice made Eloise spin round. She had not realised that she had spoken her thoughts out loud. She covered her confusion by changing the subject. 'Why, Maria, that is a really pretty bonnet. Is it new?'

  Maria did a twirl, holding out the full skirt of her scarlet merino coat and tilting her head at an angle. 'Yes, it is. Papa bought it for me this morning. We went in a hansom cab all the way to Oxford Street to a new emporium; I think it was called D. H. Evans, or something. Anyway, it is very grand and he should really take you there and buy you some new clothes, for yours are horribly shabby, if you don't mind my saying so.'

  Eloise let this pass. She glanced ruefully down at her drab serge skirt and the frayed cuffs of her white cotton blouse. It was true, of course, she did look like a drudge, and in truth that was what she had become. No wonder Barton Caine had barely given her a second glance. Compared to Rosamund in her blue silk gown trimmed lavishly with Brussels lace, Ellen Monk must appear like a scarecrow. She stifled a sigh. 'You look extremely fine, Maria. Where would you like to go this afternoon? That is if you don't mind being seen out with this shabby person.'

  Maria chuckled responsively and her dimples deepened. 'I don't care how you look, Ellen. You have a lovely face in spite of the scar, and you are kind. I shall tell Papa to buy you some new clothes. He always does what I ask.'

  'It's not the same for me, Maria. I am just an employee. Please don't say any such thing to your father.'

  'All right,' Maria said grudgingly. 'Can we go back to the museum?'

  'Of course we can. What did you enjoy most yesterday?'

  'Being seen by lots of people, and today they will have a chance to admire my new clothes.'

  It was not the best reason Eloise had ever heard for visiting a place which housed the most precious artefacts and classical statues in the land, but she had to give credit to Maria for being honest. They spent an agreeable couple of hours in the museum, and when they returned home Eloise read to Maria until it was time for tea. It was Mrs Dean who bustled into the morning parlour with the heavily laden tray and Eloise jumped to her feet to help her.

  'Thank you, Miss Monk,' Mrs Dean said, placing the tray on the table and straightening up with a grunt of pain. 'My rheumatics are playing me up today. It's a sure sign that winter is on its way. We'll have rain before the night is out.'

  'Mrs Dean is a martyr to her rheumatics,' Maria said, seizing an iced fairy cake and popping it into her mouth.

  'You should eat your bread and butter first, miss,' Mrs Dean said severely. 'She's wayward, Miss Monk, just like Miss Rosamund was at that age.'

  With a warning frown, Eloise offered Maria the bread and butter plate, and waited until she took a slice. 'Remember your manners, Maria.'

  'Yes, remember your manners, miss,' Mrs Dean echoed, showing no signs of wanting to leave the room. 'I was with Miss Rosamund's family since she was a baby and I watched her grow up. I was a kitchen maid at the big house to begin with, then I worked my way up to be cook.'

  'My mama lived in a mansion,' Maria said proudly. 'They had lots of servants and my grandpapa was very rich.'

  Mrs Dean nodded her head. 'Made his money in the West Indies. Sugar and slaves, you know the sort of thing. Not that I would want to boast about such, but times change.'

  'Yes, indeed. We have to thank Mr Wilberforce for his successful campaign against slavery,' Eloise murmured automatically, but she was puzzled. Rosamund Caine might have been an heiress, but, apart from the oil painting, which must have been done by a master, there was little evidence of wealth in Caine's establishment.

  Mrs Dean folded her arms across her bosom with a judgemental scowl. 'I don't hold with money gained from the suffering of others, and they say that hens come home to roost. They certainly did in that family.' She lowered her voice. 'Lost the lot he did. Miss Rosamund's father, I'm talk
ing about. Gambled it all away and fled the country leaving behind all manner of debts. His wife died of a fever, although in my opinion it was a broken heart, and Miss Rosamund died giving birth to Maria.'

  'How tragic,' Eloise said with feeling. 'She was so beautiful, and everyone in the hospital speaks so highly of her.'

  'Oh, she was popular all right. Miss Rosamund could charm the birds out of the trees if she put her mind to it, but she had inherited the bad streak that ran through the family. Her brother killed a man in a duel and he had to flee for his life, and Miss Rosamund, well, I don't like to speak ill of the dead.'

  'What does speak ill mean?' Maria demanded with her mouth full.

  'Children should be seen and not heard,' Mrs Dean said severely. 'And don't speak with your mouth full. It's bad manners.' She turned to Eloise. 'You will need to be strict with that one, Miss Monk. She's just like her ma. In a few years' time she'll be a heart-breaker and probably just as flighty. Then the master will have to watch out. There'll be a string of young chaps knocking on the door. Just like the old days.'

  Eloise grappled silently with this information. Her saintly image of Rosamund Caine was suddenly tarnished. Perhaps Caine's marriage had not been as blissfully happy as she had imagined. She knew it was unworthy of her but she couldn't help feeling relieved. 'Eat up, Maria,' she said cheerfully. 'Then you can have another cake.'

  Eloise did not see Caine again that day. She returned to the nursery only to find it in chaos. All the children were crying and Phoebe was vainly attempting to quieten Joss who was in the throes of a tantrum. Eloise rushed over to her and snatched Joss from her arms. 'What happened? Why is he in this state?'

  'He bit William,' Phoebe cried angrily. 'And I slapped him, the little bugger. There weren't no cause for that sort of behaviour.' She stomped off to pick up William who was sitting on the floor, bawling. 'There, there, William. Did that nasty boy bite you?'

  Eloise rocked Joss in her arms. 'I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt William. He must have done something to Joss to make him fight back.'

  'I told you he's a wild one,' Phoebe said sulkily. 'I'm going to report him to Mr Caine and have him sent off to a school for imbecile children. There's no dealing with a nipper like him.'

  'No,' Eloise shouted. 'That's not fair. There's nothing wrong with Joss.'

  'What do you care?' Phoebe demanded crossly. 'He's just one of the many. There's dozens more to fill his place. We can't afford to have feelings for them.'

  Joss began to quieten down a little but his whole body was racked with great, heaving sobs. 'Oh, my baby, I shouldn't have left you,' Eloise whispered into his damp hair. She reached out her hand to touch Beth who was clinging to the bars of her cot and whimpering. 'Don't cry, Beth, sweetheart.'

  'Mama,' Beth sobbed. 'Mama.'

  'Mama,' Joss echoed, twining his arms around his mother's neck. 'Mama.'

  'Blimey! Did he just speak?' Phoebe set William down with a pat on his head, but as she came nearer to Joss he flapped his small hand at her.

  'Go 'way!' he roared. 'Nasty lady.'

  'Hush, Joss,' Eloise said, holding him tightly as if she was afraid that Phoebe might snatch him from her arms. 'It's all over now. Be a good boy.'

  'He spoke,' Phoebe chortled. 'Well I'm blowed.' Then her smile faded and she stared suspiciously at Eloise. 'He called you his ma, as well as young Beth. Is there something you ain't telling me, Ellen? Are they your kids?'

  Cold fingers of panic clutched at Eloise's stomach. She liked Phoebe well enough but she did not trust her to keep silent. She shook her head vehemently. 'No. As you say, they all want their mothers. Perhaps I remind them of theirs, I don't know.'

  'You would tell me if you was, wouldn't you? I mean, we are friends and you wouldn't lie to me.'

  'No, of course not.' Eloise rose hastily to her feet. 'We must get these children washed and changed into their nightshirts. I can finish up here if you like, Phoebe. Why don't you go to the kitchen and get yourself something to eat? I'm sure you could do with a cup of tea after all that commotion.'

  'Well, if you insist, then I will. I've had enough of other people's kids today. But you watch out for that Joss. He might turn nasty again and bite you.' She ambled across the room, muttering to herself. 'I'd bite him back if the little devil attacked me. I certainly would.'

  As the door closed on her, Eloise kissed Joss on the cheek. 'You know who I am, Joss, darling?'

  He tugged at a lock of her hair that had escaped from the confines of the knot at the back of her head. 'Mama.'

  Tears of joy ran down her cheeks, but her relief was tempered by fear. Now Joss had found his voice it would be even more difficult to keep their secret. Eloise made him ready for bed, and when she had settled all the infants in their cots she sang to them until the last one had fallen asleep.

  She was too fraught to want food and so she skipped supper and went straight to her room, where she took her writing case from under the mattress and settled down to write a letter to her mother. Quite what had prompted her change of heart, she did not know. Perhaps it was in part due to what Barton Caine had said about the destructive power of lies, or perhaps it was simply that the time had come to tell her mother the truth about her situation. She knew that Mama would understand why she had run away from the Cribbs, and perhaps she would be able to persuade Papa that sending them to Yorkshire had been a mistake. She was not asking for help, as she knew that there was nothing that either of her parents could do from a distance of several thousand miles, but she just wanted everything to be out in the open. She laid out the facts simply and plainly, giving her present address and stating that she had been employed by Mr Barton Caine, the governor of the Foundling Hospital, to look after his little daughter, and that Joss and Beth were being cared for in the nursery. She omitted the fact that they had been admitted as foundlings; that was a piece of information best kept to herself for the present, but she assured Mama that they were all well and looking forward to the day when they were reunited. She signed the letter, blotted it and placed it in an envelope. Tomorrow she would take Maria for a walk to the post office in Holborn, and the letter would be sent on its long journey to Africa.

  Next morning when Eloise went to the nursery Joss greeted her with shouts of glee, holding his arms out and calling to her from his cot.

  'That boy is doolally tap,' Phoebe grumbled. 'He's been calling out for his ma ever since I come on duty. The night nurse said he was babbling on and on from first light. First he doesn't say a word and now we can't shut him up. Just look at him. He thinks you really are his mum.'

  Eloise hurried over to Joss and lifted him from his cot. He clung to her, kissing her cheeks and smiling up into her face. 'Joss, my baby,' Eloise whispered and was rewarded by a beaming smile and more kisses.

  'It's what I've said all along,' Phoebe muttered. 'He's not right in the head. Either that or you've been telling me a pack of lies.'

  Eloise set Joss on the floor next to Beth. 'If they want to think of me as their mother, I don't mind. They're just babies, Phoebe, like all the rest of them in here.'

  'Yes, but they don't think you're their ma, now do they?' Phoebe picked up William and put him in a high chair at the table. 'I'm going to the kitchen to see what's happened to breakfast. Anyway, I'm dying for a cup of tea.'

  As Phoebe left the nursery, Eloise knelt down beside Joss and Beth. In a low voice she attempted to convince Joss that they were playing a game where she was called Ellen and not Mama.

  'Want to go home,' Joss said, his eyes filling with tears. 'Phoebe nasty lady.'

  'And we will go home, very soon, my darling. But for a while we must continue with the game. Beth is too little to understand, but you're a big boy now, Joss. Do you think you can remember to call me Ellen?'

  Joss eyed her warily. 'Ellie.'

  'That will do,' Eloise said, smiling. 'You're a clever boy.'

  The rest of the morning passed off uneventfully enough. Phoebe's attention was diverted by a
new baby brought in by Miss Marchant, and she left Eloise to see to the other infants and toddlers. The nursery was full to capacity and some of the older girls from the Foundling Hospital came in to help with feeding, washing and changing the infants. These girls were destined to go into private homes as nursery maids and they were eager to gain experience, and, for the most part, had a genuine desire to look after little children. When the time came for Eloise to leave, however, Joss saw her putting on her bonnet and shawl and he began to howl. Of course Beth joined in and soon there was a chorus of sobbing.

  'It's no use,' Phoebe snapped. 'We'll have to send him away. That brat is a bloody pest.'

  'Don't say that, Phoebe,' Eloise cried, torn between wanting to comfort Joss and Beth and the desire to keep up the pretence that she was unrelated to them. 'He's just a baby.'

  'I'll play with him, miss.' A copper-haired little girl of about twelve ran to Joss and began tickling him. This made him sob even louder and he threw himself down on his face, drumming his feet on the floor. Eloise tore off her bonnet and flew across the room to seize him in her arms. He quietened almost immediately and plugged his thumb in his mouth, staring up at her with tears trickling down his cheeks. Beth clung to Eloise's skirts but she had also stopped crying. In the general pandemonium they went unnoticed as the girl helpers sought to pacify the other children.

  'Remember what I said, Joss,' Eloise whispered. 'This is just a game. Mama has to go out to work this afternoon, but I'll be back in time to put you to bed.' She beckoned to the red-headed child. 'What's your name, dear?'

  'Phyllis, miss.'

  'This is Phyllis, Joss. She's going to look after you this afternoon. You will be a good boy for her, won't you?'

  Joss nodded silently. Handing him into Phyllis's young arms was like cutting off a limb, but Eloise knew she must be strong, for all their sakes. With a last kiss and a cuddle for Beth, Eloise forced herself to leave the nursery.