‘Oh, bless my soul, bless my poor old soul, but you amazed me, Mr Caspar, that you did, seeing you standing there! Whoever’d’ve thought of it! A quiet evenin’ by my fire sitting there minding my own business, and then who should bob up but the kindest and best surgeon as ever set hand to a poor woman’s aching legs and back! It’s no wonder I’m all set about — now, never you say another word — ’
This in answer to Freddy’s attempts to stem her flow of words in order to explain why he was accompanied by a young rather shabbily dressed but very pretty lady, and a man bearing her luggage.
‘Whatever it is, it don’t make no never mind, and never you think it, Mr Caspar, sir, never you think it! If you wants to bring the whole Brigade o’ Guards here for reasons of your own, why, my duck, then you bring ‘em and never a question asked on account of I owes my very life to you, never mind my happiness and peace of mind and comfort and here’s my Emma, as took aback with the surprise of seein’ you as I am, I have not the least doubt!’
By this time they had reached the next floor and been led into a very cosy little room which was, Amy decided, the reddest and warmest she had ever seen. The walls were papered with a ferociously plushed and crimsoned paper which was patterned with festoons of feathers. The floor was covered with a heavy red turkey carpet. The furniture was draped wherever there was a drapable portion with thick scarlet chenille. The fireplace in which burned a large fire, the flames seeming to be the brightest hottest red possible, was surmounted by a mantel which was trimmed with rose-coloured tassels and fringing. In the candlesticks on each side of the tall oil lamps stood thick twisted red candles, each burning with a tall flame. And on all sides there were crimson upholstered little chairs and tables all of which bore ornaments and framed pictures and pieces of china and mounted needlework, in a glad hugger-mugger that winked cheerfully back at Amy’s dazzled gaze.
In the middle of all this stood a girl as tall and thin as her mother was short and round. Her pallid rather thin hair was pulled into tight ringlets on each side of her narrow face, and each cheek bore a round red patch which seemed to match the room, and she was wearing a gown so determinedly girlish that Amy would have regarded it as unsuitable for her own twenty-three years, yet this girl was in truth no girl, being at least, Amy decided with one demure upward glance, three and thirty if she was a day.
She stood there smiling and nodding but saying nothing as her mother rattled on.
‘There now, Mr Caspar, you remember my little Emma, I’ll be bound! As good a girl as ever drew breath and so kind to her old mother, staying at home with me to bear me company when all the other young giddy ones is running about the balls and parties as selfish as you please!’
Emma blinked and produced a little self-deprecatory grimace and smiled even more widely as the accolade went on. ‘— the best teacher of singing and music, on the pianoforte and the violin, you know, as there is in the whole of Covent Garden and beyond and could do much to better herself, had she the mind, but not my Emma. Here she is, she tells me, and here she stays, don’t you, my duck?’ And she beamed fondly at the silent Emma who still stood there in the middle of the room in her white gown with its pink sash, smiling broadly.
Freddy managed to silence the breathless Mrs Miller at last, by urging her to sit down, from which position it appeared she was almost unable to speak at all, and with a few succinct words told her of Amy’s and her brother Fenton’s plight (at which Mrs Miller, threatening to haul herself to her feet again, immediately responded with clucks of sympathy) and gave her a sovereign ‘to last them as long as it is possible, Mrs Miller, after which time, I am sure they will be able to pay you themselves. But if they cannot, then do not fear — we will seek a way to manage matters so that you will not be incommoded. I am grateful to you indeed, and now you must all forgive me, for it is time I was at home. My wife will fear I have been locked up for ever in the hospital, if I do not get to her soon! Tomorrow, Miss Lucas, if you will attend me at the hospital, we will see what can be done about your brother’s removal from the wards, and then, why, we will be ready to introduce you to my brother-in-law! Then you will be able to work, and get upon your feet. But tomorrow we shall talk more.’
And away down the narrow stairs to the cab, the porter following him noisily, he went, leaving the now almost exhausted Amy to the ministrations of Mrs Miller which, though voluble, were nonetheless comforting. She provided a bath for her in a warm lamplit bedroom at the very top of the house, sitting her in the high-backed tin tub before the fire and pouring great quantities of hot water into it, which the totally uncomplaining Emma brought up the stairs with the help of a lugubrious and equally silent maidservant. Then she had tucked Amy into the soft comfort of a linen-sheeted bed (which after weeks on the rough blankets and old mattresses of the ward cubbyhole felt like total bliss to Amy’s weary body) and then unpacked her luggage, exclaiming delightedly over her pretty gowns and chemises, and stowing all away neatly in a tall chest of mahogany drawers, before doing the same for all of Fenton’s clothes, using the room behind Amy’s for him.
So that Amy fell asleep to the sound of the clatter of her breathless little voice to slumber more soundly than she had since she had arrived in England all those weeks ago.
After two weeks in the Miller household, both Fenton and Amy felt they had lived there for ever. Freddy had decided that Fenton could leave the hospital forthwith, and could return a week later to have his splint removed, and his wound dressed, since both of them pleaded with him to permit it. Amy because she was sure that Mrs Miller would take superb care of him, and Fenton because he was heartily bored with life in the wards at Nellie’s.
They had settled down in the tall thin house with its ill-assorted occupants and within a matter of days were virtually lording it there.
Mrs Miller had become twice as breathless and twice as voluble at the sight of Fenton, his face pale after his weeks in hospital and his hair, sorely in need of cutting, flopping romantically over his brow, and set about nursing him with such gusto that even he felt himself overwhelmed with attention. As for Miss Emma Miller — she had opened her eyes wide when she was first introduced to Fenton, and for the first time in Amy’s hearing had spoken, saying, ‘Good morning,’ with great intensity in a surprisingly deep and resonant voice.
And from then on, all was indeed splendid for the Lucases. Mrs Miller, who worked hard as an artist’s colourman, selling powdered pigments and oils and charcoal pencils from the crammed shelves in the front downstairs room, would come bustling up to her parlour on the first floor where the young Lucases spent much of their time to make sure they had all they wanted, while Emma, who taught her music to a procession of depressed-looking young ladies who came toiling up the stairs at hourly intervals from nine in the morning till seven at night, found many excuses to slip shyly into the front parlour while a pupil trilled uneven scales or thumped the unfortunate pianoforte unmercifully, ostensibly to find a mislaid sheet of music or her reticule, but never failing to smile tremulously at Fenton and ask him in her strange deep voice if he needed aught.
Fenton, well aware of the havoc he was wreaking in poor Miss Emma’s heart, wickedly fed her passion for him with smiles and even, on occasion, little winks, which made Amy remonstrate with him.
‘For,’ she said, ‘you are a very beguiling young man, as well you know, and we do not wish another episode like poor Sophia Varden, do we?’
At which Fenton, who remembered all too well Miss Varden and her histrionics, including her rather inept attempt to take poison for love of him, agreed, and tried to be remote. But failed, for Miss Emma’s adoration was balm to his soul, so long had he been without agreeable feminine company (for who could count Amy?) and was soon smiling and winking as much as ever. So that by the end of the first week it was arranged that he should enjoy a daily singing and pianoforte lesson, totally without fee, of course, from the besotted Miss Emma.
He found in fact, that her skill was consider
able, and under her devoted eye learned a great deal, and his pleasant tenor voice would fill the little house in a very agreeable way, and Mrs Miller downstairs amid her sacks of powdered gamboge and sepia, madder and burnt umber would cock her head and smile delightedly, and Amy too would listen and admire her brother’s new talent, and long to start seeking work again.
It had been decided, after much discussion over Fenton’s leg on the day the splint was removed, to wait another week before arranging for an audition with Oliver Lackland.
‘I spoke to him of you,’ Freddy said in the big casualty room one afternoon as he tenderly examined the scar left in Fenton’s leg, ‘and he will gladly see you, but advises waiting until he is ready to set his new programme afoot. It is now but two days to Christmas, and the present show will end on New Year’s Day, I am told, and a new one will be put in hand shortly after. He says it is better to clear his mind of all that is happening now and then he will be able to offer you more guidance on what are his needs. Meanwhile, I have spoken to the Bursar and it is agreed that the funds will bear you a little longer — no, do not puzzle yourself over it, Miss Lucas. To tell you the truth, I would be loth to lose so interesting a patient!’
He smiled at Fenton then, who was frowning heavily as he stared at his leg with its livid puckered scar stretching down the side of the calf.
‘I am very proud of your progress! You have done excellent well, and your leg is as good as new — I will wish to show it, with your consent, to some of my colleagues and students. That will be some recompense for our — ah — help — regarding the Bursar’s fund — ’
‘Done well, you say?’ Fenton burst out. ‘Can you look at that, and tell me I have done well? When it’s so ugly and —’
‘Hush, Fenton!’ Amy said, and reddened. She knew better than anyone that but for Freddy’s insistence and skill, Fenton would have had no leg at all to complain about, might not even have had his life, but he went on furiously, ‘I do not care! You shall not hush me, Amy! It is hideous and —’
Freddy, to Amy’s surprise, took it well. ‘I understand your concern, my boy,’ he said gently. ‘I was aware of the importance of your appearance the day I operated and sewed you as neat as I could! You must not be distressed at the look of the scar now. It will take time, but I assure you the livid colour will fade, and the shape of your leg will greatly improve, as you exercise it. Now your bone is knit well, and what you must do is walk a great deal. Yes, do not look so surprised! Each day, walk at least from one end of Long Acre to the other — so that you strengthen your muscles and set your leg back on the road to its former handsomeness! The muscles have healed very well. The rest is now in your hands, or, rather feet! The sooner you start with exercise, why, the sooner you will be back on a stage! So — another week, and then Christmas and New Year will be over. And I will send a message to you to come to Nellie’s once more for an examination of your leg, and then we will arrange for the meeting with my brother-in-law.’
In the event it was less than a week later when the message came to 56 Long Acre bidding the Lucases to come to 11 Tavistock Square.
‘I have not yet had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Miss Lucas,’ Mrs Caspar wrote, ‘but I look forward to doing so with much pleasure. My husband has spoken to me of your dilemma and your brother’s sad accident, and that he intends that you should meet my brother in order to place before him your abilities as performers for his show, and it seems to me that no better opportunity will present itself than the little soirée I have planned to welcome the New Year. I hope we may see you at seven o’clock in the evening, to dine, and trust you will remain and share our festivities until 1867!’
‘She seems very charming!’ Amy said, folding the heavy writing paper carefully, and tucking it away in her reticule. ‘Inviting total strangers to what is clearly a family party! Do you not find that agreeable, Fenton?’
Fenton stretched his legs to the fire, and began once again the foot exercises he had developed to improve the rate at which his leg regained its power — which it was fast doing, since he spent so much of his time now walking up and down Long Acre — and said lazily, ‘Oh, I don’t know! I guess she wants something a bit out of the ordinary to entertain ‘em all with, and thinks a couple of Yankees will make good table talk! Women are the same all over the world, and you know how the Cabot aunts would snaffle any visitor to town and feed ‘em and lionize ‘em! This one’s the same, depend upon it!’
‘Well, I don’t care if we are being lionized!’ Amy said stoutly. ‘It will be such a joy to visit a really elegant house, and to have something worth dressing up for!’ She dropped her voice a little then. ‘Mrs Miller and Miss Emma are very pleasant, of course, but — well, they are very —’
‘Cheapjack!’ Fenton said loudly, Amy reddened and turned her head to look apprehensively at the door of the parlour and said, ‘Hush!’
‘Oh, they won’t hear! They’re down in the kitchen, the pair of them, cooking up something special for our dinner!’ He laughed then, and leaned over and kissed Amy soundly on one cheek. ‘Oh, but we fell on our feet here, Sugar-Amy! And you did it all on your own! I couldn’t have found a better berth myself, and I don’t mind saying so!’
‘It wasn’t all my own doing. It was Mr Caspar — he meant very kindly, and still does. And now this invitation! It really is very splendid. It’s my guess these Caspars are very rich, for Mrs Miller tells me he is a very highly thought of surgeon and that his mother is married to a very rich man, who owns half London — or so she says — and that Tavistock Square is a very elegant place to live! It could be, Fenton, that we are about to be launched into just the sort of society we need! And as soon as we can manage it I must have some new gowns. Mrs Miller says that Emma is a pretty needlewoman and if we can but afford the stuff, she will make for me — ’
The door rattled behind them and Mrs Miller came in, breathless and talking even before the door was fully opened.
‘— I told him as you’d been resting, Master Fenton, and that you was still resting too, Miss Amy, just as you said I should, but he’s that determined that it takes more than me and my Emma put together to get rid of him, so I said as I’d come and ask again, that I knew as you were resting, as I said, and I had my instructions —’
She pushed the door closed behind her and leaned on the panels, beaming at them both and puffing from the exertions of her climb up the stairs. ‘Not, Miss Amy, that it doesn’t go to my heart to see the poor boy’s face when he asks for you! Every day this week he’s been here and said as he needs to have words with you, and do what I may to think of a new reason each day to send him away, he still comes back, so he really does have a determination about him that makes itself felt! You’ll have to see him sooner or later, Miss Amy, of that much I’m certain, and if you don’t see him today, he’ll only be back tomorrow — ’
‘Mrs Miller is right, Amy,’ Fenton said and smiled brilliantly at Mrs Miller. ‘You can’t keep sending him away! Why not agree to talk to him? What harm can it do?’
‘He’s — oh, he’s — oh, you know perfectly well why!’ Amy hissed at him, and Fenton laughed.
‘Oh, come, Amy, we don’t want another Sophia Varden episode, do we? Sauce for geese and ganders, Amy, sauce and geese and ganders!’
‘I am not encouraging him, you fool!’ Amy was scarlet with mortification. ‘It is quite different! I’m doing the very opposite of what you are doing with — ’
‘Send him up, Mrs Miller, send him up!’ Fenton said loudly, and laughed aloud at the expression on his sister’s face, and then stood up.
‘Really, Amy, you’re behaving like a real baby. Well, I shall take my exercise, I think, before the weather makes it insupportable to be out of doors!’ He limped to the window and peered out between the crimson curtains at the heavy lowering sky outside. ‘It would never do to miss my exercise, but I don’t want to be snowed to a standstill, either!’
‘Fenton!’ Amy said wrathfully, and j
umped to her feet, sending the sewing which had been upon her lap flying in all directions. ‘Fenton, don’t you dare go out and leave me alone with him! If you do, I shall never —’
‘Speak to me again?’ Fenton said sweetly, and turned towards the door as it began to open. ‘Oh, I doubt I shall ever enjoy anything as good as that, Amy! You couldn’t stop speaking to save your bacon! Good afternoon to you, Foster! Good of you to call! Forgive me if I leave you to my sister — I have to take my daily exercise you know, as advised by your good master, Caspar! I shall be back by and by!’
And he went, leaving Amy staring furiously after him and young Mr Foster standing with his hat turning awkwardly between his hands, and his face drawn and tense.
‘Good — good afternoon, Miss Lucas,’ he said stiffly. ‘I am glad to see you again. When — when you would not see me, I began to fear you were ill, for I could think of no harm I had done you that you should forbid me your company!’
She blinked and looked at him properly for the first time, and at the sight of his white face and the lines that had appeared between his brows was quite stricken with compunction. He looked so miserable that she felt her own eyes prickle for a moment, and held out both her hands to him impulsively.
‘Oh, I am glad to see you! Please do not be angry with me for denying you when you have called all this week — it was Fenton, you know!’ And she took a sharp pleasure in maligning her brother behind his back. ‘He has been so captious, and would not let me leave his side, and refused to speak to anyone at all! I have been very miserable, I do promise you!’
The effect of these words on Mr Foster was quite remarkable. The lines between his eyes seemed to melt away, his cheeks rounded and lifted and the pallor which had invested them receded beneath a tide of pink. He stammered and stopped and took a deep breath and then cracked his face into a smile of sheer relief and came forward to seize her hands in his, dropping his hat and almost treading on it in his eagerness.
Long Acre Page 8
