by Dilly Court
‘I suppose it was Harcourt Fulford-Browne’s fault that he died of apoplexy.’
Cassy was quick to hear the teasing note in Belinda’s voice and she shot her a sideways glance. Their eyes met for a moment and Cassy had an almost uncontrollable urge to laugh outright, but a swift dig in the ribs from Mahdu made her remember her manners.
Flora however did not seem to be offended by Belinda’s remark. She shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘Harcourt was always delicate, and he was a greedy pig. I warned him time and again about his uncontrollable appetites, and I don’t just mean for food and drink.’
‘Flora!’ Belinda gasped. ‘Remember there’s a child present.’
‘And who brought her here uninvited, may I ask?’ Flora tossed the butt of her cigarillo into the empty grate. ‘Leonardo and I are just getting to know one another properly. I don’t know what he’ll say to a child running about the house, and no doubt spying on us.’ She fixed Cassy with a cold stare. ‘You caused chaos on your last visit, as I recall.’
‘But you always have a house filled with guests,’ Belinda said mildly. ‘Surely one small girl won’t make any difference?’
‘I’ve sent them all packing. There are elements of my past that Leonardo does not yet know about. He’s a musician and has the true artistic temperament. I don’t want him upset.’ She tossed her head so that her diamond earrings swung like tiny chandeliers. ‘We’re in the first throes of romantic love, and we want to be alone.’
‘You’ve only known him for a month. What possessed you to marry again?’
Flora raised an eyebrow, inclining her head towards Cassy. ‘I don’t need to spell it out to you as a married woman, Belle. I should have thought it obvious that a person, even someone in her prime like me, has certain needs. Although, of course, I’m forgetting that you married that old stick of a brother of mine. Perhaps I should find you an Italian lover like my Leo. That would bring the roses to your cheeks, my girl.’
Mahdu shuffled her feet and Belinda took Cassy by the shoulders, spinning her round and giving her a gentle push towards the door. ‘We are obviously unwelcome here, Cassy. And anyway I don’t think this is the right place for you. Go with Mahdu. I’m taking you home.’
There was an ominous silence in the carriage as they drove back to South Audley Street. Cassy only had a vague understanding as to what had passed between Lady Davenport and her sister-in-law, but whatever the problem between them it came down to the same thing. She was as unwanted in Duke Street as she was in Sir Geoffrey’s house. She was a misfit, and an embarrassment. She belonged nowhere, and this point was made even more obvious when they arrived at the mansion simultaneously with her reluctant host. Sir Geoffrey’s face darkened when he saw her alight from the carriage. He paused on the steps, glaring at her with brows drawn together and his lips clenched in a tight line.
‘Geoffrey, I can explain,’ Belinda began nervously.
‘I told you to send the child back to wherever it was that you found her. I’m serious, Belinda. This won’t do.’
Belinda shot an anxious glance at the footmen and the groom who were standing to attention staring straight ahead. ‘Please, Geoffrey. May we continue this conversation indoors?’
‘I have nothing further to say on the matter. I want the child gone as soon as possible. Do I make myself understood?’ He strode into the house, tossing his top hat and gloves to the stony-faced butler. ‘I’m going to my study. I don’t want to be disturbed.’
‘Please, ma’am,’ Cassy said, tugging at Belinda’s sleeve. ‘I don’t want to be no bother. I can go to my friend Lottie’s house in Whitechapel for the rest of the holiday. She said so.’
Belinda’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. ‘I won’t be bullied into letting you go. Why is everyone being so unreasonable?’ Seizing Cassy’s hand she ran up the steps into the entrance hall.
‘My lady, think carefully before you say anything you will regret later,’ Mahdu said breathlessly as she caught up with them. ‘Let me take the child to Whitechapel, where I’m sure she will be most welcome.’
Belinda clasped Cassy’s hand even tighter. ‘I can’t send her away like this. You don’t want to leave us, do you, my dear?’
Cassy barely knew what to think or say at this sudden turn of events. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t want to make trouble for you, ma’am.’
‘I can’t bear this any longer,’ Belinda cried, picking up her skirts and running towards the staircase. Her small feet made soft pattering noises on the marble tiles, and she brushed past Oliver who was coming down the stairs dressed for outdoors.
‘Good Lord, what’s wrong with her?’ he demanded. ‘Was she crying? Has the old man done something to upset her?’
Mahdu bowed her head, saying nothing, but in the face of her idol’s distress Cassy was not going to remain silent. She caught hold of Oliver’s arm. ‘He made her cry,’ she said angrily. ‘Your pa is a mean old man and that sister of his ain’t much better. I’ll be glad to go to Lottie’s house in Whitechapel if it means I don’t have to see Lady Davenport upset time and again. It ain’t fair and it ain’t nice. She’s a good sort and no one here appreciates her.’
Oliver stared at her open-mouthed. ‘Well, by golly. That was heartfelt. What on earth has been going on? What have I missed, Mahdu?’
‘It’s not up to me to say, sir. I suggest you ask your stepmother, sir.’ Mahdu laid her hand on Cassy’s shoulder. ‘Go to your room. I’ll look after her ladyship.’ She hurried off in the direction of the servants’ staircase.
Cassy was about to follow her but Oliver caught her by the hand. ‘Wait a moment, Cassy. What’s been going on? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I can see very well that something has upset my stepmother, and I want to know what’s been said.’ He hooked his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come with me, brat. I know a very cosy little teashop nearby where we can sit and talk without being frowned upon.’ He guided her past the footman who was still holding the door open. ‘If anyone asks, Harris, I’m taking Miss Cassy out for afternoon tea.’
The teashop was filled with well-dressed ladies sipping tea from dainty bone china cups, nibbling cake and chatting. They were too engrossed in their gossiping to pay any attention to Cassy and Oliver, who were seated at the back of the room close to the kitchen door.
Oliver ordered tea and pastries and then settled down to listen to Cassy’s account of what had happened to upset his stepmother to such a degree. ‘Well, by George, the old man’s done it this time,’ he said at length, taking a bite out of a chocolate éclair. He chewed and swallowed, wiping his lips on a napkin. ‘I think he’s talking nonsense. Why would anyone take exception to a kid like you? I doubt if anyone would think twice about you staying with us for a couple of weeks. It’s not as if the old man was going to adopt you.’
‘He made it clear that I’ve got to leave,’ Cassy said, licking her fingers and receiving a reproving frown.
‘Not done,’ Oliver said, waving his napkin at her. ‘That’s what this thing is for and don’t you forget it. I have to say that licking the jam off one’s fingers is much more satisfying, but it just ain’t the done thing. Look at the ladies taking tea and see how they behave. It’s as well to do what they do and then no one can fault you for your manners.’
Cassy wiped her fingers on her table napkin. ‘There’s such a lot to learn, Ollie. I don’t think I’ll ever be anything but a street Arab.’
He frowned at her, shaking his head. ‘Now that’s not the sort of talk I want to hear from you, brat. You’re as good as anyone here and don’t you forget it. You’ll be a stunner when you’re a bit older and you’ll have the chaps dangling after you. You could do very well for yourself and all you need is a bit of polish. I think my old man’s quite wrong in sending you away, but as it is there’s nothing much I can do to help.’
‘I’ll go to Whitechapel, Ollie. But you can do something for me. Let Bailey know where I’ve gone so that we don’t lose touch again.’
‘You’re really fond of that fellow, aren’t you, Cassy?’
She nodded her head. ‘He’s been my only family for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what I’d do if I never saw him again.’ She eyed the last cream cake. ‘Can I have that cake?’
‘May I have that cake?’ Oliver corrected her with a grin. ‘Go on, brat. Make yourself sick if you must. Enjoy yourself while you can.’ He sat back in his chair watching her eat with obvious amusement. ‘I wonder if your friend’s pa would run me up a suit at special rates? You could ask him for me.’
Next day Cassy left the house in South Audley Street with Mahdu. Lady Davenport had not come down to say goodbye, but Mahdu explained that her ladyship was prone to headaches which sometimes laid her low for days. She had sent her best wishes to Cassy and hoped that she would enjoy her stay in Whitechapel. It had all been arranged with great haste. One of the footmen had been sent out the previous evening to ask the tailor if it was convenient for Cassy to spend the remainder of her holiday with them, and the answer had come back in the affirmative. It had not taken long to put Cassy’s few belongings in a small portmanteau that morning, and the carriage had been summoned. Oliver had risen early and had given her a florin to spend as she liked. He had ruffled her hair and given her a brotherly hug, promising to pass her message on to Bailey as he too was going to Maidstone to polish up his equestrian skills, although he told her that he could probably teach the riding master a thing or two.
Cassy had left the house with mixed feelings. She experienced a sad little tug at her heartstrings on parting from the lady with the angel’s face who had shed tears for her, and she had been sad to leave Oliver who had turned out to be a friend after all, even if he did treat her like a baby sometimes. She settled down in the comfort of Sir Geoffrey’s carriage, casting a glance at Mahdu who was sitting opposite her, staring out of the carriage window.
‘Will you come and see me when I’m back at school, Ma?’ The question tumbled from Cassy’s lips.
Mahdu turned her head to give her a straight look. ‘I’ve told you not to call me that.’
‘But no one can hear us,’ Cassy protested. ‘May I call you Mother when we are alone?’
‘No, child. It’s not right. You must not think of me in that way.’ Mahdu stared down at her hands knotted together in her lap. ‘You must forget about the past, larla. You will have to learn to live for yourself alone.’
‘I don’t understand, Ma. Are you ashamed of me?’
This brought Mahdu’s head up and her face was contorted with pain. ‘Never, larla. You are dear to me, and any woman would be proud to have you for a daughter.’
‘Then why, Ma? Why can’t you leave Lady Davenport and then we could live together? I don’t want to go back to that school. I don’t want to be a lady. I just want to be with you.’
‘Don’t talk like that,’ Mahdu cried, clutching her breast with both hands. The colour drained from her face and her features contorted with pain. ‘Be still, Cassy,’ she gasped.
‘What’s wrong, Ma?’ Cassy fell to her knees, taking Mahdu’s clenched hands in hers. ‘Speak to me. Tell me what to do.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Mahdu managed to say through pale lips. ‘Let me be quiet for a moment.’ She collapsed against the leather squabs, breathing rapidly.
Cassy moved to sit by her side, clutching her hands. ‘You need a doctor, Ma. I’ll tell the coachman to take you to hospital.’
‘No, larla,’ Mahdu said with an effort. ‘It’s nothing. The pain comes and then it goes. Let me rest for a moment and I’ll be well again.’
Cassy sat on the edge of her seat, her gaze fixed on Mahdu’s features as they began to relax and the colour returned to her cheeks. ‘Are you feeling better, Ma?’
Mahdu opened her eyes. ‘Cassy, I may not be with you always. There is something you ought to know.’
‘Yes, Ma. Tell me, please.’
Mahdu placed her lips close to Cassy’s ear. ‘You are not my child, larla, although I love you as much as if you had been born to me.’
‘But I’ve always thought you were my ma.’
‘Larla, my time is close. I can’t go to my maker with a lie on my lips. Your mother is . . .’ Mahdu closed her eyes and a long drawn out sigh escaped from her lips.
Chapter Eleven
‘I can’t believe it’s our last day at the academy,’ Lottie said, putting the last hairpin in Cassy’s coiffure and standing back to admire her handiwork. ‘If I don’t do well in medical school I might make a good lady’s maid.’ She clapped her hand over her mouth, meeting Cassy’s eyes in the flyblown mirror above the dormitory mantelshelf. ‘I’m sorry, Cass. I didn’t mean . . .’
Cassy turned to her with a smile. ‘It’s all right, Lottie. Nothing you could say would offend me or hurt my feelings. We’ve been friends for too long to let silly little slips of the tongue come between us.’
Lottie enveloped her in a hug. ‘You’ll always be my best friend, Cassy. In fact you’re more like a sister to me. I’ll really miss the times we spent together in the school holidays. Papa wants you to know that you’ll always have a home with us in Whitechapel, no matter what happens in the future.’
‘I know that, and I love your pa. He’s been the father I never knew and he couldn’t have been kinder to me.’ Cassy fumbled for her handkerchief. ‘There, I told myself I wouldn’t cry today.’ Half laughing, half crying, she blew her nose.
Lottie dashed a tear from her eyes. ‘Now you’ve started me off. Who would think that we’d be sad at leaving the North wind’s academy for young ladies? I’ve hated this wretched school for almost every minute of the years I’ve spent here.’
‘Well, today is definitely our last day. I just wish that Ma was here to see me get my diploma from Miss North.’ Cassy sighed and turned away to fasten the lock on the portmanteau from South Audley Street that was now battered and worn with constant use. Memories of that fatal day when Mahdu had died in her arms were still fresh and painful even after five years. She remembered screaming for help until the carriage came to a halt and the groom wrenched the door open. The coachman had climbed down from his perch on the box and had given his opinion in sonorous tones that there was no hope for the poor woman, but he added in a half-whisper that Sir Geoffrey would not welcome the return of a corpse. After an agitated discussion, the coachman and groom had decided to take Mahdu to the London Hospital as it was in Whitechapel close to their destination, and leave the doctors to deal with the situation. The coroner would need to be informed, the coachman had said, seeming determined to impress his underling with his worldly wisdom. There would have to be a death certificate signed by a doctor and an inquest. Cassy had barely understood anything that was being said. All she knew was that the woman she had always thought of as her mother was dead, but even more painful, Mahdu’s dying breath had been to renounce her as a daughter.
The coach had lumbered on through the heavy city traffic and Cassy had cradled Mahdu’s lifeless body in her arms even after they reached the entrance to Spectacle Alley where Mr Solomon had his small shop. She remembered how she had clung to Mahdu’s plump form, winding her small hands in her clothing so that her fingers had to be prised apart in order to make her let go. She had fought, scratching, screaming and begging to be allowed to stay with Ma, but strong arms had enfolded her and a merciful blackness had blotted out the terrible scene.
‘You’re daydreaming again, Cass.’
Lottie’s amused voice brought Cassy back to the present with a start. She forced her lips into a smile. ‘I’m almost ready to face the prize-giving.’
‘Papa will be here by now,’ Lottie said happily. ‘He will clap loudly for both of us, Cass.’
‘I know he will.’ Cassy made an effort to sound cheerful, but she struggled with the awful feeling of isolation that sometimes overwhelmed her. It was a forlorn and lonely place in which she found herself. All the other girls had families of some sort, even if it was an aged aunt or a dis
tant cousin, but she was alone. No one teased her now or called her a chi-chi, but she was still painfully aware of being different. The desperate aching void left by Ma’s death was a private thing that only someone who had suffered a similar bereavement would understand. Even if Mahdu had spoken the truth and she was not her birth mother, Cassy drew some comfort from the fact that she had been loved dearly, but Mahdu’s untimely death had left the question unanswered. Who was her mother and, equally important, who was it who had fathered her? Why had her birth been hushed up and kept secret for all of her fifteen years? What secrets about her lineage might never come to light?
‘Lady Davenport might come,’ Beck said, as if sensing Cassy’s inner distress. ‘She visits you quite often.’
‘Yes, she has been good to me, and I wouldn’t be here without her charity. But she travels often with her husband, and maybe they are away now. I haven’t heard from her for some months.’
Lottie linked her hand through Cassy’s arm with an affectionate squeeze. ‘Never mind, you still have me and my pa. We’ll be friends forever, and when I’m a Harley Street doctor, the first woman to practise in London, you can be my companion and housekeeper.’
‘That would be one in the eye for Norah Vickery,’ Cassy said, chuckling. ‘Do you remember how she treated us when we were in our first year here?’
‘I’ll never forget the miserable bitch,’ Lottie said with feeling. ‘But darling Norah has hooked an earl, so I don’t think she’ll be very interested in us now. Come on, Cass. Let’s go down and face the North wind for the last time. I’d like to whack her over the head with her blooming diploma, but I promise I’ll behave.’
Laughing at the shared vision of Miss North’s ironclad self-control tested to the limits in such a ridiculous situation, Cassy and Lottie went downstairs arm in arm to the dining room where tables had been set aside and chairs lined in rows to accommodate the proud parents. Lottie spotted her father sitting on the far end of the back row and she blew him a kiss. Cassy stared straight ahead, not daring to hope that Lady Davenport might have found time in her busy social life to attend such a minor event.
