A Long Way from Heaven

by A Long Way from Heaven (retail) (epub)

  Nelly tried to focus on the blurred image before her. Squinting her eyes she leaned forward drunkenly, sniffed, and with no consideration for his priestly garb slurred, ‘Have you trumped?’

  ‘Oh, cover his ears somebody,’ cried Thomasin, rushing over to save Father Kelly from further embarrassment through peals of laughter.

  The children, who often bore the brunt of Miss Peabody’s annoyance, fell about in near hysterics.

  Liam coughed blusteringly, though not really upset. ‘It’s been a grand party, Thomasin, but I fear I may have outstayed my welcome. I’ll be moving on.’

  ‘Aye, I think we’d all better call it a day before Nelly really upsets somebody,’ agreed Thomasin. ‘Pat, you and me father can take Miss Peabody home, seein’ as how you’re responsible for her condition.’

  Still guffawing Patrick said his farewells as the other guests surged noisily into the street, then he and William propped Nelly between them and guided her to her own house. After much banter about who was going to take off her clothes and put her to bed, the men laid her on the sofa and covered her with a crocheted blanket then left, still chuckling.

  Caroline was shaking hands with Thomasin as Patrick and his father-in-law returned. ‘Goodnight, Mrs Feeney, and thank you for a lovely party. I have had a marvellous time, it was so entertaining.’

  I’ll bet it was, thought Thomasin, then smiled. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, love. Patrick, you’d best accompany these two young ladies home, it’s gettin’ quite dark.’

  ‘Right y’are.’ Patrick tugged at his forelock and took the harp which his daughter was holding. ‘Give that to me, ’tis too heavy for you to carry all that way. Come now, we’d best be off before it gets any darker.’

  When they reached Walmgate Caroline faltered and peered down the road which, in the dim light and with its dingy buildings, had begun to look quite sinister. ‘Do you think we might take a cab, Mr Feeney?’ she asked nervously. ‘It is getting rather dark.’

  ‘I’m afraid my wages don’t run to cabs, Caroline,’ answered Patrick firmly. ‘Don’t worry, ye’ll be quite safe with me.’

  The girls chatted quietly on their way through the city. Patrick listened thoughtfully, the smoke from his pipe flowing over his shoulder as he walked briskly beside them. At times one would think the two girls were equals the way they addressed each other, but sometimes he detected a slightly superior note come creeping into Caroline’s voice, and feared for his daughter’s emotions.

  When they finally arrived Erin was about to descend the steps to the basement when Caroline stopped her. ‘No, we shall not go that way.’

  ‘But we came out this way,’ answered Erin.

  ‘No,’ replied Caroline. ‘I shall not go sneaking in by the servants’ entrance like a whipped dog. I shall go through the front door like everyone else and you as my friend shall come with me.’

  ‘Caroline, do ye think that’s wise?’ asked Patrick, seeing the uneasiness cloud his daughter’s face.

  ‘I am sure I know what is wise in my own house, Mr Feeney.’ The superior tone came to the fore again.

  Patrick was unimpressed. ‘I wasn’t thinking of you, I was thinking of what might happen to my daughter if she’s caught disobeying the rules. The mistress seems to be very strict on these matters.’

  ‘Oh, pooh.’ Caroline marched up to the front door dragging Erin with her. Erin shrank, hoping Caroline would not mention the dismissal. He would have to be told of course, but not yet. ‘Everyone seems to think Mama is some sort of ogre. I promise no harm will come to Erin. Once Mama understands that Erin is my friend then everything will be fine. Anyway,’ she added with her hand on the knob, ‘if we go in quietly perhaps she will not even hear us.’

  Patrick followed, bearing the harp under his arm, and stepped into the spacious hall.

  Caroline turned and proffered her hand. ‘Thank you very much for escorting us, Mr Feeney. I hope it has not been too much of an imposition.’

  ‘Why no, ’tis my pleasure, Miss Caroline.’ Patrick laughed at himself. All evening he had been referring to her as plain Caroline. It must be the grandness of the house that had caused him, unconsciously, to add the deference. He compared this hall with its mahogany panelling, marble-tiled floor, valuable antiquities and chandelier to his own dim little front passage with its peeling wallpaper and crude lighting arrangements. What must have gone through Caroline’s mind as she had entered his home? He pushed all thoughts from his head and bending low over her hand touched his lips to her knuckles, making her squirm girlishly.

  ‘Goodnight to the pair of ye.’ He turned and was about to leave when there came a human sound.

  ‘Psst!’

  They all looked in the direction of the servants’ quarters and there stood Cook waving her hands about in a frantic semaphore, jabbing a finger at the drawing room door in an attempt to warn them.

  ‘What is the matter?’ hissed Caroline, trying to decode the cook’s message.

  The drawing room door was suddenly flung open and out stalked Helena exuding violent waves of perfume, the only sweetness about her.

  ‘So!’ she spat. ‘You have decided to return. How thoughtful of you. Stay where you are, Cook!’ she commanded without turning as Rose was about to disappear. ‘I have matters to discuss with you also.’

  And then words failed her as she beheld the man who accompanied her daughter and the maid. Oh, la! She raised a delicate hand to her cheek. It was all she could do to refrain from laughing. Here she was bullying the child to take revenge on Roland’s mistress and all the time she had been extracting penance from another enemy without even being aware of it.

  How could she have thought that Roland could ever have sired such a handsome creature? It was quite obvious who the child’s father was, and there he stood with the harp as further evidence of that night at Dunworthe Hall. Helena wondered why she had never noticed the resemblance, but then she had taken little notice of the daughter on that night, only the man, the man who had insulted her.

  She was also confused about the red-haired woman who seemed to be the link between these two men, and could only surmise that her first suspicion had been half-correct, that the woman had been Roland’s mistress but was now this Irishman’s wife. Oh, what fun she was going to have! But not yet, she had been taken too much by surprise to be able to glean maximum enjoyment from this incident. She must first deal with her disobedient daughter.

  ‘Caroline, please go to your room.’

  ‘But, Mama.’ Caroline stepped forward and touched Helena’s arm. ‘Please allow me to explain. It was all my fault. I made Erin take me to the party.’

  Helena chose to ignore the imploring hand on her arm. ‘Caroline, you will do as you are ordered. I shall speak to you later. Please do not disobey me again.’

  With an entreating look at Erin, Caroline fled up the stairs. ‘As for you,’ Helena addressed Erin. ‘Was it not enough for you to countermand my strict instructions without filling my house with vagrants?’ She eyed Patrick distastefully from head to foot.

  ‘But this is my father,’ cried Erin. ‘He escorted us back.’ Patrick remained uncharacteristically silent. He had recognised her also, remembered how she had set fire to him with her hands, how he had pushed her away and fled. Each knew that the other had not forgotten, but not one word of recognition passed between them.

  ‘So,’ said Helena officiously. ‘You are Feeney.’

  Patrick nodded curtly.

  ‘May one ask what you are doing in my reception hall?’

  ‘Your daughter invited us in,’ he submitted, reflecting her contempt. ‘I believe she assumed that, as she had been welcomed into our home, we in turn would be welcomed into yours. She insisted that we accompany her through the front entrance.’

  ‘So, it is my daughter with whom I have to remonstrate?’ said Helena.

  ‘Caroline didn’t mean no harm,’ blurted Erin.

  ‘Do you not mean Miss Caroline, Feeney?’ enquired Helena
.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ answered Erin quietly, then added recklessly, ‘But please don’t be too hard on her. I shouldn’t’ve let her persuade me to take her.’

  ‘You should not indeed,’ stated Helena. ‘Which you will discover to your detriment.’

  ‘Now wait a minute,’ cut in Patrick, taking a step forward.

  ‘I have nothing further to say to you, Feeney,’ replied Helena. ‘Other than to warn you that should I find you in my private quarters again I shall send for the police. You may go.’

  ‘If you touch my daughter…’ began Patrick.

  ‘Cook,’ ordered Helena briskly. ‘Go and inform Johnson to fetch a constable.’

  ‘Don’t bother, I’m going,’ snarled Patrick. ‘But I’m warning ye, if ye touch that girl ye’ll be sorry.’

  ‘You may go,’ repeated Helena forcefully, and Patrick, after kissing his daughter, stormed from the house leaving the door wide open.

  ‘Kindly close and lock the door, Cook,’ instructed Helena. ‘Then I wish to speak to you.’

  Rose waddled undignifiedly to the door and closed it, shooting the bolts into place.

  ‘Now.’ Helena folded her hands over her skirts. ‘I wish to inspect the kitchen.’

  ‘At this time, madam?’ asked Rose incredulously.

  ‘Are you deaf, Cook, or simply insolent?’

  Cook lumbered to the servants’ entrance and led the way down to the kitchen with Erin, clutching her harp, at the rear.

  Helena sauntered over to the range and traced a finger over its warm surface. ‘This is intolerable.’

  She turned her Medusa stare on Erin and her eyes took in the thick, black mane that streamed over the girl’s shoulders. ‘It is quite obvious that this girl has been neglecting her duties to attend to more vain pursuits.’

  ‘But I cleaned it this morning,’ objected Erin.

  Rose supported her. ‘Yes, she did, madam. I saw her do it myself.’

  ‘Then your eyesight is failing, Cook,’ said Helena. ‘Perhaps I should replace you also?’

  Rose said no more.

  ‘Very well, girl, since you use the time which should have been spent working in the pursuit of personal fripperies, I suggest that you now attend to your proper duties and clean the range.’

  ‘But, ma’am – the fire’s not gone out yet,’ argued Erin. ‘I cannot clean it till it cools off.’

  ‘Then you must wait until it does,’ answered the mistress disdainfully.

  ‘But that’ll be hours,’ blurted Cook.

  Helena gave her a withering glare. ‘I trust you are not arguing with me again, Cook?’

  Rose looked at her feet. The little minx would not hesitate to throw her out, discounting all those years of loyal service as cook and before that housemaid at Helena’s father’s house.

  ‘I am most gratified to hear it,’ said Helena at Rose’s negative reply. She walked to the staircase. ‘Oh, and Cook?’ she said in the casual voice that the servants knew was a precursor to some vile order. ‘Tomorrow you will instruct Benson to cut that girl’s hair. I cannot possibly tolerate such appearance in my kitchen. Imagine the embarrassment if one of my guests should find a hair in his meal.’

  Erin parted her lips in alarm and was about to complain, but Rose gave her a warning nudge as they watched Helena’s dainty slippers disappear up the staircase.

  ‘The cat!’ expostulated Rose noisily. ‘The absolute cat.’ She examined Erin’s crestfallen face and put a podgy hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘We’ll have to do it, love, otherwise there’ll be hell to pay.’

  ‘But she can’t,’ voiced Erin faintly. ‘She can’t.’

  ‘You’ve been here long enough to know that she can do exactly as she likes,’ said Rose. ‘If we don’t do it she’ll get rid o’ the lot of us, and then where will we be?’ She walked away from Erin and began to punch at the cushions in her chair. ‘All of this is Miss Caroline’s fault! She’s got very headstrong since the mistress allowed her to take her meals upstairs.’ Erin’s eyes filled with tears. She was thinking of what her father would say when he found out.

  ‘Who’s got her back up then?’ Alice stampled down the stairs rattling a trayful of used glasses. ‘She nigh on pushed me down the blasted stairs just now.’

  Rose told her.

  ‘Oh, blimey!’ cried Alice turning to Erin. ‘What did I tell you? Didn’t I tell her, Cook? “If you don’t cover that hair up,” I said, “she’ll have it off”.’ She rinsed the glasses out, broke one in the sink, swore, then said she would leave it until morning to clear up. ‘I suppose I’ll get that job an’ all?’ she snapped, pointing at Erin’s head. ‘Aye, I thought so. God, as if there isn’t enough to do.’

  ‘Don’t bother about the glass, Alice,’ said Erin wearily. ‘I’ve got to stay up to do the range so I might as well do that an’ all.’

  ‘Oh, good lass,’ replied Alice drying her hands. ‘Right then, I’ll get meself off to bobies. ’Night everyone.’

  Rose bade Alice goodnight then spoke to Erin. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait up on your own. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m like a bear with a sore head if I don’t get my sleep. You can sit in my chair if you like.’

  Erin thanked her and sank into the cushions. She stared into the still glowing fire, making pictures from the embers, wishing she were at home in her lumpy, little bed, arguing with her brothers, laughing with her father. She was so tired, so very, very tired.

  * * *

  Patrick ran all the way home, trying to expel the surfeit of anger by punishing his body. The spiteful harridan. Now he understood why she had treated Erin in such a manner — she remembered the child from that night at Dunworthe Hall. God, he would like to break her neck. But he must calm himself before he reached home. What explanation would he give Tommy? How could he say: ‘Mrs Cummings is taking it out of Erin because of me’? She would want to know all the details. She would see it in his eyes that, had Erin’s music not broken the spell, he would have made love to this evil woman.

  If Thomasin noticed his subdued attitude after the high spirits of the evening then she did not comment upon it.

  ‘Did they get home safely?’ she asked, helping him off with his jacket.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘It was a grand party, wasn’t it?’ She hung the jacket on a peg.

  ‘It was.’

  ‘Poor Nelly, you oughtn’t to have done that to her, yer know. She’ll have a right headache tomorra.’

  ‘Aye, well…’

  ‘Are yer comin’ to bed then?’

  Jerked from his anger, he put his arms around her and squeezed. ‘I love ye, ye know.’

  ‘Eh, what ’ave I done to deserve all this?’ She laughed, as he kissed her.

  ‘Did I hear ye mention something about bed?’ he asked, the former twinkle back in his eye.

  ‘Aye, I could do wi’ some sleep after such a hard day,’ she yawned, then laughing softly, hitched a tow on his belt and followed him upstairs.

  Chapter Fifty

  Erin awoke with a start and rubbed her eyes. Where was she? She opened her eyes wider, then closed them as her senses began to operate. That was it, she had been supposed to wait for the fire to go out and clean the range. Sure, it was well and truly out now. She must have slept for a long time because when she touched the grate it was cool under her fingers. The gas jet still cast its yellow flicker around the walls; she had forgotten to turn it out.

  Rising from Cook’s chair she pressed a hand to the small of her back and leaned on it, then pulled at the skirts of the lavender dress which were creased and crumpled. Looking towards the clock on the mantelpiece she saw that it was a quarter to four – Oh well, she yawned, there was no sense in going to bed now, in a few hours the house would be alive with turbulent activity. Might as well have a nice blaze going for when Cook came down.

  She put on an apron and went to fetch the brushes and polish. With great diligence she raked out the ashes and cleaned into all the corne
rs, making sure that Helena would have nothing to complain about today. Perhaps if Erin were super-efficient the mistress would forget about the haircut. She set the fire which, with a little help from the bellows, soon sprang into yellow flower. Filling the big kettle with water she put it on to boil and went to pick the pieces of glass from the sink.

  The door opened and a tousled Johnson slouched in. ‘I thought my watch was wrong when I heard all the movement,’ he grumbled. ‘What are you doing up so early?’

  He took one of the glasses from the draining board and filled it with water while Erin related the events of the previous evening, including Helena’s orders that Erin’s hair must be cut.

  He swilled the water around his mouth then spat it into the sink as if making a comment upon Helena’s treatment. ‘That is a great pity,’ he sympathised and replaced the glass on the draining board. ‘You have lovely hair.’ He took one of her ruffled curls between his fingers and rubbed at it.

  Erin stared at him in surprise for he had never spoken to her so before. One could hardly manage to draw two civil words from him. He gazed at the hair, his granite face suddenly transformed into that of a kind, caring man. And then it was gone. He dropped the hair abruptly.

  ‘I shall take a little of this water for my shaving,’ he said, lifting the kettle and tipping it towards the shaving mug which he had brought from his room. Then he was gone, leaving Erin to shake her head and carry the teapot to the range.

  It was still early as she reached into the bread bin and, cutting herself two slices from a loaf, pressed one of them onto a toasting fork and held it to the fire. The flames almost hypnotised her into sleep again and she had to keep forcing her eyes open. A light, golden brown began to cover the surface of the bread and she turned it over to toast the other side.

  Some twenty minutes later, when Erin sat at the table munching toast and sipping tea, Rose came down, followed directly by Alice.

  ‘Wonders’ll never cease,’ scoffed Alice flopping down beside Erin. ‘You’re up early. Whose bed’ve you been sleepin’ in?’