by Dilly Court
Caroline went downstairs and found Sadie and Laurence in the parlour, seated on either side of the empty grate.
‘I must find work.’ Caroline said with a determined set to her jaw.
Sadie put down her teacup. ‘What do you mean, Carrie?’
‘It’s quite simple. We are desperate for money and we can’t live off the rent that Laurence pays us.’
Laurence leaned forward in his chair. ‘I’ve put an advertisement in The Times, Caroline. I can take day boys, or even a couple of boarders. Sadie and I were discussing it before you joined us.’
‘But that won’t keep all of us, and you can’t be expected to pay us rent and teach my brothers for nothing.’
‘They’re bright boys,’ Laurence said, smiling. ‘I’m sure I could get both of them into Oxford or Cambridge.’
‘Even so, you can’t support all of us.’
Sadie’s smooth brow creased into a frown. ‘If we’re to become a school of sorts I would be happy to look after the pupils. Mrs Cooper’s teaching is coming back to me gradually and I’m getting the hang of that black-leaded beast of a range.’
‘But that leaves me with no place in this house,’ Caroline said sadly. ‘I was brought up to be a lady, even though my parents came from humble backgrounds, but I’m not like Cordelia Bearwood.’
A dry chuckle escaped Sadie’s lips. ‘I would hope not. Lovely as she is, Cordelia has been spoiled to death by her doting parents.’
‘Just wait and see what response I get from my advertisement,’ Laurence said softly. ‘I’m grateful for the opportunity to start my school, and, if I’m successful, I hope one day to have my own establishment.’
‘And you will, Laurence. I’m sure of it.’ Sadie’s pale blue eyes glowed with pride and a delicate flush coloured her cheeks.
Caroline stared at her aunt as if seeing her for the first time. The ever-practical, reliable friend of her childhood had been transformed into a radiant young woman. Was it possible to fall in love so quickly? Caroline could not answer that question, but it seemed to have happened before her eyes and she could only be glad that Sadie had at last found someone worthy of her.
‘I think I’ll go to my room and read for a while,’ Caroline said, yawning. ‘Do you mind seeing to the boys, Sadie?’
‘Of course not,’ Sadie said smiling happily. ‘If Laurence goes ahead with fee-paying boarders I’ll need the practice mothering small boys. I think it would be a wonderful thing to do.’
Laurence rose to his feet. ‘I wouldn’t do anything that you didn’t feel was right, Caroline.’
‘I think it’s a splendid idea. You two could manage it beautifully.’ She escaped from the room, but instead of going upstairs she let herself out through the front door and negotiated the steps down to the wharf.
Despite the noxious odours from the factory chimneys and the gasworks, it was a beautiful evening – the sort of warm, feathery dusk that seemed to wrap itself around a body like a silk shawl. The sun was a fiery golden ball plummeting below the horizon, leaving the sky streaked with blood-red and purple bruise-like clouds. The river boiled like molten copper and the smelly mud had a silvery sheen. It was a night for lovers, but that thought made her feel even lonelier than before.
A shriek from the foreshore made her turn with a start and, looking down from the wharf, she could see her brothers being attacked by a gang of ragged youths. She made for the nearest watermen’s stairs and raced down them, risking a fall, but her feet barely touched the slimy treads, and she landed on the shingle with a dull thud.
‘Stop that,’ she cried angrily. ‘Leave those boys alone, you bullies.’ More fearful for her brothers than for herself, she raced over the stones and broken spars, waving her fists at the youths, who turned to stare at her. But their surprised expressions were replaced by surly grins and the tallest of them advanced on Caroline with his ham-like fists raised.
‘Leave us be, lady. You’ll come off worst.’
Max took a running jump and landed on the boy’s back. ‘Run for it, Carrie.’
She stood her ground. ‘I will not. I’m not afraid of you big louts. Leave my brothers alone.’
James had his arms pinned behind his back and his captor was laughing wildly. ‘Shall I break his arms, Crusher?’
The tall youth shook his head. ‘Nah. Let’s have some fun with the toffs first. Let’s show ’em how us Wapping boys treat them as venture into these parts.’
‘Why don’t you take on someone your own size?’ A cultured voice rang out behind them, causing the gang to take several steps backwards as a tall figure emerged from the shadow of the wharf. ‘Let the boys go and if you touch the young lady you’ll have me to deal with.’
Caroline leaped forward to grab James by the hand, dragging him free from the boy who had momentarily released his grip.
The leader of the gang shook Max off as if he were an annoying insect, but his attitude changed subtly. ‘We was only larking around, guv.’
‘Get away from here before I thrash each one of you.’ The man grabbed Max by the collar and marched him across the muddy foreshore to join Caroline and James. ‘Are you hurt, young lady?’
Caroline shook her head. ‘No, sir. I don’t know how to thank you …’
‘No need for that. Just keep away from here. This isn’t a playground.’
His patronising tone annoyed Caroline, despite her intense feeling of relief. Even in the fading light it was obvious that their rescuer was a gentleman. His frock coat was well cut and his checked trousers gave him a slightly dandified appearance. He was clean-shaven, but the brim of his silky top hat cast a shadow on his upper face and she could not see his eyes.
‘My brothers are new to this area of London, sir,’ Caroline said with as much dignity as she could muster, considering the fact that her slippers were sinking into the cold mud and her silk skirts were wet and probably ruined.
‘Then I suggest you take them home and don’t venture out after sunset. This is a rough area.’ He tipped his hat and marched off in the direction of the stone steps.
‘Are you going to let him talk to you like that?’ Max demanded crossly. ‘That fellow treated you like an idiot, Carrie.’
‘Maybe I was a fool for bringing you boys here,’ Caroline said ruefully. ‘I’ve no idea who that person is, but he did us a favour, and we should follow him as quickly as possible. Those louts might return if they think he’s gone.’
James dashed his hand across his eyes. ‘I was scared, Carrie. I don’t think I like it here.’
She tightened her grasp on his hand and started walking towards the stone steps. ‘We’ll get used to it, Jimmy. We just need to learn how to cope with living in such a different place. After all, our parents once lived here and they survived.’ She held her free hand out to Max. ‘We’re in this together, and we just have to make the best of it.’
‘I could have thrashed the one called Crusher.’ Despite his brave words, Max held her hand as they crossed the mud, making their way to the steps.
Later, when her brothers were in bed, Caroline sat on the window seat in her bedchamber, sipping a mug of cocoa as she gazed out into the moonlit night. Lights from passing river traffic bobbed and danced above the water like tiny fireflies, and the streetlamps cast golden pools on the cobblestones, but the deep shadows held menace and fights broke out as drunks spilled out of the pubs. Blood mingled with the detritus in the gutters and the sound of police whistles and the thunder of booted feet added to the cacophony of hooters from steamships. Caroline finished her cocoa and drew the curtains before climbing into bed. She might never know the identity of the gentleman who had come to their aid, but one thing was certain – tomorrow she would start looking for paid employment. Her life of luxury and leisure had ended and it was time she started earning her living.
Next morning, at breakfast, Laurence was allowing his tea to get cold while he studied a copy of The Times. With his steel-rimmed reading spectacles perched on the end o
f his nose he looked every inch a scholar, but his brow was wrinkled in a frown and he did not seem too happy. Caroline had finished her slice of toast, thinly spread with butter, and was sipping her tea in an attempt to make it last until she could have a proper look at the newspaper. She had been attempting to read the ‘Positions Vacant’ column over Laurence’s shoulder, but it was almost impossible as he kept moving his head and obscuring her view.
‘Where are those boys?’ Sadie demanded as she filled the sink with water from the kettle. ‘Max should be helping with the washing up. It’s his turn today.’
‘They’re not used to rising early when they’re on holiday,’ Caroline said hastily. She had not mentioned the scuffle on the foreshore the previous evening, and she did not intend to tell Laurence or Sadie. The boys, she hoped, had learned their lesson.
‘But they’re not on holiday,’ Sadie said firmly. ‘They’ll be starting their lessons again as soon as Laurence has unpacked his books.’
Laurence looked up at the mention of his name, peering at Sadie over the rim of his spectacles. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.’
‘I was speaking about the boys beginning their studies with you,’ Sadie said patiently. ‘The sooner the better, in my opinion.’ She refilled the kettle from the pump at the sink and replaced it on the hob. ‘Is there anything of interest in the paper?’
Laurence shook his head. ‘No, not today, but there’s always tomorrow.’
‘Might I borrow the newspaper?’ Caroline asked, holding out her hand. ‘I like to keep abreast with what’s going on in the world.’
Laurence handed it to her with a gentle smile, but Sadie chortled with laughter.
‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it, Carrie. Don’t take too long because I want you to go to market and buy some vegetables and a beef bone. I’m afraid it will be soup again for supper.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll go as soon as I’ve got the boys out of bed.’ Caroline left the kitchen without giving Sadie a chance to think of anything else that she might want, and hurried upstairs to wake her brothers. When she was satisfied that they intended to get up and dress themselves, she took the newspaper to her room and sat down to study the ‘Positions Vacant’ column. Her attention was caught by the name ‘Colville’, which she had often heard spoken when her parents were discussing business matters over breakfast or dinner – Colville Shipping Company, her father’s bitter rival, was part of the reason for Manning and Chapman’s dire financial straits. She memorised the advertisement and the address, selected a straw bonnet adorned with scarlet rosebuds and ribbons, slipped on her lace shawl and prepared for battle.
Chapter Five
The Colville residence was situated in a beautiful Georgian terrace at the pier head. After a long hot walk along Wapping High Street, past wharfs, warehouses, numerous pubs and cheap lodging houses, Caroline could not help but be impressed by the comparatively tranquil setting. But she quickly realised that it was an illusion, cleverly created by green lawns and the grouping of tall trees. The houses themselves overlooked the busy entrance to Wapping Basin and the river was crowded with vessels of all shapes and kinds. The peace was shattered by the noise from the docks: the sound of flapping sails, the drumming of great paddle wheels as the steamers ploughed through the water, and the shouts of seamen, stevedores and dock workers. But dirt, noise and bustle meant money. Caroline had imagined that the Colville family would be very well situated, and now she was certain. Some of their profits had been gained at the expense of her father’s company and had probably contributed to its downfall. Leaving her wicker shopping basket beneath the splendid portico, she knocked on the door and after a short wait it was opened by a trim parlour maid.
‘I’ve come about the advertisement in The Times,’ Caroline said with as much confidence as she could muster.
‘You should put your application in writing, miss. I doubt if the mistress will see you otherwise.’
Caroline was not going to be put off so easily. ‘I’ve been offered a position with a titled family,’ she said, lying valiantly. ‘But this situation interests me. I would like to speak to your mistress before I accept the other one.’
The maid cocked her head on one side, eyeing Caroline suspiciously, but she was obviously impressed. ‘Wait there and I’ll see if Mrs Colville is at home.’
‘It’s very hot out here. Might I wait inside?’ Caroline stepped over the threshold before the maid had a chance to close the door.
‘Very well, but stay there. Don’t move.’ The maid hurried off with the white ribbons on her frilled mobcap flying out behind her like pennants.
Catching sight of her flushed cheeks and slightly dishevelled appeared in one of the large wall mirrors, Caroline tucked stray strands of dark hair behind her ears. People were always telling her that she resembled her mother, and it was true that she had inherited her mother’s large hazel eyes, luxuriant dark hair and clear skin, but Caroline could never see the likeness herself. She straightened her bonnet and wiped a smut from the tip of her nose, hoping that Mrs Colville would not notice the smear on her white lace gloves. The jaunty headwear gave her a pert appearance, and she was wondering whether it had been a wise choice when the maid reappeared.
‘The mistress will spare you five minutes. Come this way.’ She marched off, leaving Caroline to follow her.
She had a vague impression of glacial elegance as she hurried after the maidservant. The walls and the paintwork were stark white, unrelieved by touches of colour, and gilt-framed mirrors reflected the sunlight that flooded through the tall windows, creating square patterns on the highly polished floorboards. Caroline had worked out her speech but when she was ushered into a large, airy parlour overlooking the river, she was momentarily lost for words. If the entrance hall was ice-white, the parlour was the cool blue of a winter sky. The chairs and sofa were upholstered in pale grey velvet, and a similar material had been used for the curtains. After the dust and heat outside, the coolness of the room was matched by the frigid reception of the elderly woman, who was seated on a throne-like chair with an embroidery hoop on her lap.
‘You may go, Gilroy,’ she said in clipped tones.
The maid bobbed a curtsey and backed out of the room as if in the presence of royalty. Caroline eyed Mrs Colville warily. The advertisement had been brief to the point of terseness and had merely required an educated woman to act as companion to a young lady: no more, no less. It had intrigued Caroline almost as much as the name Colville. She had a score to settle with that family. Had it not been for their cut-throat business tactics her dear papa might still be alive.
‘Well, what have you to say for yourself? Your five minutes is ticking away.’ Mrs Colville fixed Caroline with a steely gaze, her hooded eyelids barely concealing her disapproval.
‘I came in answer to your advertisement,’ Caroline said firmly. ‘I think I would be ideally suited to the position.’
‘You do, do you? And what gives you that idea?’
‘I’m well educated, and I know how to conduct myself, Mrs Colville.’
‘What is your name?’
Caroline hesitated. The name Manning was well known in Wapping, especially by those connected with shipping. ‘Caroline Manley.’
‘You look very young. I was hoping for an older woman.’
‘I’m seventeen, ma’am. But I’m mature for my age.’
‘Hmm.’ Mrs Colville raised a lorgnette to her eyes. ‘My granddaughter is of a similar age, but I would not consider you to be a suitable chaperone. You may leave now.’
Caroline stared at her, shocked and surprised by this cavalier treatment. ‘That’s not fair, Mrs Colville. You haven’t given me a chance to prove my worth. Might I not meet your granddaughter? Surely it’s important that she has a companion she likes.’
‘You have a lot to say for yourself for someone so young.’ The lorgnette was raised again and Mrs Colville was silent for a few seconds. ‘Very well. I’m a fair woman. Ring th
e bell and I’ll send for Maria. But don’t think this means that you have the position.’
Caroline tugged at the bell pull. ‘I understand perfectly.’
‘You’re well spoken, I’ll give you that, and you have the air of a lady, even if you are wearing that ridiculous bonnet. I cannot abide bright colours and in particular I hate scarlet.’
‘I have more bonnets.’
‘Then why do you want to work? Why are you not at home with your family, where any well-brought-up young girl should be until she is married?’
‘My father is dead.’ Caroline did not need to put on the tremor in her voice. She dashed tears away with her gloved hand. ‘My mother is unwell, and my family have fallen on hard times. But I don’t want pity. I need to pay my way and that is why this job is important to me.’
‘You speak eloquently. Why didn’t you accept the position with the titled lady, or is she a figment of your imagination?’
‘The person in question is Lady Bearwood, who is a friend of Mama’s.’ Caroline had not intended to flaunt her connection with the late Earl of Dawlish’s daughter, but she was desperate. ‘I am prepared to work hard and do my best.’
Mrs Colville’s eyes narrowed. ‘I would expect at least one reference.’
‘Of course.’ Caroline hoped she sounded confident, but it might be difficult with Lady Alice away in Devonshire, and with Cordelia staying with friends somewhere in the country.
An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by the steady ticking of the marble clock on the mantelshelf. Caroline did not like to sit down without being invited to do so, and Mrs Colville seemed to have forgotten her presence, as she picked up her embroidery hoop and concentrated on the intricate design, her needle stabbing the cloth as if it were her worst enemy. Caroline stood by the fireplace, wishing that Mrs Colville’s granddaughter would hurry up and make an appearance.
