Dickie (Feeney Family Sagas Book 4)

by Sheelagh Kelly

  She looked up from her plate, frowning. The gaslight fell on his spectacles, making it impossible for her to see his eyes. ‘And what did you make of him?’

  ‘I wasn’t particularly enamoured with the way he was behaving towards you.’

  She took a sip of wine and went back to her meal. ‘I can’t say I noticed any impropriety.’

  ‘That could possibly be because you were too busy admiring him to notice.’

  She laughed and continued to chew for a while, then a glance at him warned her his comment hadn’t been intended as a joke. ‘Doctor Dyson!’

  ‘Doctor Dyson, what?’

  She lowered her fork. ‘You know what!’

  ‘And why shouldn’t I be jealous?’

  She chewed rapidly to get rid of her mouthful and swallowed. ‘Brian, he’s my uncle! And he’s twice my age.’ Her face was still half-amused.

  ‘He’s a very attractive man.’

  ‘Then you have him!’ Her mood changed now. ‘Brian, you’re being utterly ridiculous.’ Her cutlery savaged the chicken.

  ‘If it’s ridiculous why are you annoyed?’ Brian shook his head sadly, then snatched a mouthful of wine which he had hoped to use in celebration – not of a marriage proposal, for he had accepted Belle’s decision to remain single, but they had discussed the possibility of him moving in with her. In the past this had been delayed because she feared it would upset her grandfather. Now Patrick was dead and Belle didn’t care if any of the others thought her a scarlet woman, Brian had hoped that tonight the plan might come to fruition. He would have liked that fruition to be complete – ached for Belle to bear his child – but he knew in his heart that she never would. Despite her charity towards other people’s children she had few maternal feelings.

  The meal ended in disharmony. Belle dabbed at her lips with a napkin and, snatching his unfinished supper, took the plates away. ‘Men!’ she hissed at the nursemaid who had been sitting in the scullery reading a novel. When she went back into the parlour, Brian was wearing his brown caped overcoat. She did not ask why he was leaving.

  ‘Goodnight, then.’ The last button was fastened and he observed her unaffectionately. ‘Shall I call tomorrow?’ She reflected his dispassion, saying he could if he liked. He turned his back, took two strides … then stopped and presented a naked face. ‘I’m frightened I’m going to lose you, Belle.’

  Dispassion turned to anger. ‘I’m not yours to lose!’ With a resigned nod he headed once more for the exit. ‘Oh … hang on, Brian.’ Her attitude mellowed. ‘I’m not averse to having a row over something important but this is totally absurd.’ He had rotated to look at her again. ‘I was just so mad that you thought I could be influenced by an attractive man … I apologise for what I just said.’

  His face didn’t alter. ‘You were right; you’re not mine to lose.’

  ‘Not in the possessive sense, but we do have a partnership and I was making it sound as though that counted for nothing when it counts for a great deal. Come back and finish your wine.’

  Brian unbuttoned his coat and slung it over a chair. Belle handed him a glass of wine as atonement. ‘I expect it’s the shock of Grandfather’s death that’s making me so quick-tempered. ’

  Brian hoped it was. But he still had the fear that her anger stemmed from being caught in the act of desiring a man, and later when she said, ‘Take off your specs, Bri,’ – which was her jocular prelude to their making love – he could not help thinking that she was doing it because she felt sorry for him.

  11

  ‘Ah, Bellissima!’ Dickie was the first to greet his niece when she arrived in the drawing room at Peasholme Green on Saturday evening. The entire family, plus Francis, had been summoned together by Thomasin to welcome her home, but Dickie was the one who reached her first, bending low over her hand, then drawing her nearer the fire with a further display of linguistics.

  Belle allowed herself to be led through the smiling throng, enjoying being the centre of attention. ‘You speak Italian, Uncle – and such a beautiful accent.’

  He speaks sufficient to get him into some signora’s knickers, thought Erin, unimpressed.

  ‘In a cosmopolitan society like New York one manages to pick up all sorts.’ Dickie glanced slyly at his brother who responded with an admonishing smile. As her uncle straightened, Belle noticed the bruising around his left eye and remarked upon it. ‘Oh, the cupboard door is a bit stiff,’ explained Dickie. ‘I gave it a tug the other night and smacked myself in the eye.’

  ‘Don’t let him fool you,’ joked Sonny to his niece. ‘I’ll bet your aunt did it.’ Everyone laughed and Sonny donated a welcoming kiss. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t have the opportunity to talk the other day, Belle.’

  Her smile shrank. ‘I didn’t exactly feel like talking to anybody.’

  ‘No … have you been to the cemetery at all?’

  ‘Not yet.’ It had barely sunk in that her grandfather was dead. She looked at Erin who, unsure of her reception, had hung back. ‘Mother, I’d like to go if you’re still willing to come with me.’

  Accepting this as an apology, Erin came forward and linked arms with her. ‘Of course I will… and if you get chance of a few days’ holiday in the summer I’ll take you to Ireland to see where your grandfather was born, too.’ It would be more welcoming in the summer.

  ‘I’d like that,’ replied Belle, then went back to appraising Dickie, his red silk handkerchief an obscenity among all this black. So intent was her study, she did not immediately notice that Dusty had moved up close beside her husband. On encountering her, Belle smiled politely. The return smile was cool. There seemed to be some warning in her aunt’s eye. Good grief! thought Belle, she can’t possibly have the same idea as Brian. My God, I believe she does. Notwithstanding her shock, Belle greeted her aunt in friendly manner.

  ‘Good evening, Belle,’ returned Dusty. ‘Was Brian unable to come with you?’ Belle explained that he was with a patient.

  ‘A pity,’ said her aunt. ‘He’s a nice young man.’

  ‘We all think that but she still won’t marry him,’ said Erin.

  Belle’s face censured, then turned back to Dickie who had produced something from his pocket.

  ‘We brought everyone a gift from America, Belle. Hope ye like it. May I pin it on for ye?’

  He did not even wait for permission, and was attaching the ornament to her left shoulder, when Belle observed, looking directly into his face, ‘It’s very pretty, but rather inappropriate to wear with mourning, don’t you think?’

  His lips parted, ‘Ah yes …’ and his hands withdrew, retaining the brooch. ‘My mistake. Well here, you take it and put it in your bag.’ He handed it over.

  ‘Thank you, Uncle … Aunt.’ Belle nodded graciously then put the brooch into her jet-encrusted bag. She looked round at the other participants and laughed at Feen. ‘Good gracious, whatever has she got on?’ The girl was trying to keep balance on the two blocks of wood which she had tied to her feet. Her hair was pinned into a bun and skewered by two knitting needles. She wore a length of flowered silk tied with a wide sash, and an oriental fan completed the outfit.

  Sonny put on his oppressed father look. ‘She’s in her Japanese period this week.’ His daughter often entertained such fads, using the costumes as a cover for her shyness. Last month it had been her Russian period, when she had gone about the house dressed in her father’s old trousers, a pair of knee boots and a fur hat. ‘I suppose I should stop her really, but they’re all missing their grandfather, I don’t like to be mean.’

  Feen spotted her audience and came over, taking little shuffling steps in imitation of what she imagined to be that of a Japanese lady. ‘Ah, who eeze thees?’ The costumes might vary but the accent was always the same. Her long-suffering father underwent the pretence and introduced Belle. ‘I am very plizzed to meet you.’ Snapping the fan shut, she tucked both hands up her sleeves and bowed low.

  Her aunt from America laughed delightedly and said to Eri
n, ‘Isn’t she cute?’

  It was obviously taken as gross insult. The Japanese lady gave her a withering look and departed. But Dusty’s eyes had strayed back to her husband. He was paying far too much attention to Belle. ‘Come on, Dickie, don’t hog your niece. I’m sure someone else would like to talk to her.’

  Belle examined her aunt’s face. There could be no doubt about the warning now. Despite her adult bearing, there remained enough of the child in Belle to make her do the complete opposite of what was required of her. A look of defiance came to her eye.

  ‘And how’s my erudite cousin?’ Nick stepped forward and severed the women’s examination of each other. He, too, had sensed the air of enmity.

  ‘Do you always let him insult you like that?’ asked her uncle, before being firmly removed by his wife.

  Nick added a ‘Welcome back.’

  Belle pulled a face, still watching her uncle who was now over by the french windows canoodling with Feen. ‘Not so good a welcome, was it?’ she said miserably. Her mother patted her hand and drifted away. ‘What went wrong? You normally know everyone else’s business, why didn’t you see he was ill?’ When Nick shrugged uncomfortably, she softened. ‘Oh, never mind, I’m just trying to make sense of it all.’ Feeling tears burn, she gestured at her uncle from America. ‘I suppose it must’ve been a big shock, finding out he was alive?’ Belle was aware of the father and son relationship.

  ‘Well… I did know actually,’ Nick divulged.

  She asked how. ‘He’s been reading my flaming letters,’ growled Sonny, overhearing.

  Belle gave a warped smile, then greeted Win and asked, ‘How are you? I do hear you’ve plans to increase your brood.’ Dusty had mentioned this the other night.

  Win held her stomach. ‘I don’t feel so bad at the moment, thank you, Belle. Late evening’s the worst time. And I get ill bumping up and down in the carriage – but I just had to come and find out how you fared in South Africa; you’re so intrepid!’

  ‘She’ll tell us all about it over dinner,’ called Thomasin, rubbing her knee. ‘Come on, somebody, help me up.’

  Erin approached her mother’s seat with the intention of helping. ‘That leg’s troubling you, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, no, I’ve told you! I’m all right.’ Thomasin turned grouchy. ‘Francis, come and rescue me, I beg you.’ Shaking off her daughter, she clung to Francis’ thin arm, and pried herself up, the pair of them leading the way to the dining room.

  Her offices rejected, Erin sauntered beside her daughter and asked, ‘Well, what d’ye think to him?’ Dickie and his wife were some way ahead and out of earshot.

  ‘I presume you mean my uncle? I like him. He makes me laugh.’

  ‘Oh, he’s good at that, especially when the laugh is at someone else’s expense. Be very mindful of those children, Belle. He’s not to be trusted.’ Erin restrained herself from further soothsaying as they reached the table.

  ‘Feen, that’s your Aunt Dusty’s place,’ scolded Thomasin as her grand-daughter jostled her way to the seat beside Dickie. ‘I thought you four girls could sit over that side.’

  ‘I am sorry but I do not understand Engleesh.’

  ‘You’ll understand when it comes to asking who wants more meringue though,’ laughed Thomasin.

  Feen barely managed to conceal her disgust at her silly old grandmother’s treatment, but waited in the hope that her aunt would give way. When Dusty merely smiled, she set her mouth and flounced round to the other side of the table, inwardly swearing her hatred of both women.

  While the meal was being served, Belle was pressed for her adventures by the rest of Sonny’s girls, Amelia asking excitedly if she had bumped into any tigers. ‘I don’t believe they have tigers in Africa,’ said Belle. ‘If they do then I certainly didn’t see any. I saw elephants, and a monkey … though he was on top of a barrel organ outside King’s Cross Station.’ Her smiling mouth imbibed of the soup. Amelia snorted and dipped into her own, leaving the quizzing to others. Elizabeth asked how on earth their cousin had managed to survive in the jungle for all this time. Belle chuckled. ‘I haven’t been anywhere near a jungle. Where I’ve been it’s a huge open space.’

  ‘Like a desert, you mean?’ asked Sophia.

  ‘Good Lord – Uncle, if I were you I would seriously question your governess’ credentials. No, Sophia, it’s a very beautiful country – but what they don’t have in South Africa is delicious meals like this so if you’ll excuse me I’m going to tuck in and enjoy it and let someone else provide the conversation for the time being.’

  Thomasin was the one to do so. ‘I’ve been wondering whether to buy somewhere smaller. It’s silly, this big place with just the two of us. If we want to get together we can all go to your house, Sonny, or Nick’s.’

  Nick was horrified. ‘I don’t want Belle’s mob smashing up my new furniture, thank you kindly! We’ve just got the place looking nice.’

  ‘Stop slandering my children, you big snob,’ said Belle.

  ‘If I’m a snob in not wanting my home wrecked then I’ll admit to it.’ Nick averted any similar suggestions. ‘Nan, I’ve been doing some research into the possibility of us acquiring a tea plantation. I’ve brought the figures with me, you could take a spez at them later. It looks quite viable.’

  ‘That’s a matter for the boardroom, Nick, not the dinner table.’

  ‘And when was the last time you visited the boardroom?’ enquired Nick. His grandmother reminded him sternly of her loss. ‘I didn’t mean to sound uncaring, Nan, I miss Grandad too, but the business has to be run and I really do feel that this tea plantation is a matter we must discuss. It could save us an awful lot of cash in the long run and the coolies work for next to nothing.’ Thomasin told him they would speak of it later; her tone brooked no further attempt.

  The diners ate in silence for a while, then Belle asked, ‘Have you been sightseeing today?’

  With the question unprefixed by any form of address, Dusty was unaware that Belle was speaking to her and so continued eating until her husband nudged her and she looked up. ‘Oh … yes. We’ve been to Aysgarth Falls.’ Belle said it was a place she had not seen and asked if it was worth a visit. ‘It’s lovely.’ Dusty stirred thoughtfully with her soupspoon, a dangerous spark to her eye. ‘Though you can get too much of beauty. I feel as if I ought to be getting back to routine.’

  ‘Personally, I never tire of beauty,’ said Dick and tried to retain his smile as, beneath the table, his wife ground her heel into his little toe. ‘But Dusty’s right of course, we should be getting back to business I suppose.’ He managed to extricate his tortured foot.

  ‘You don’t need to go to America to find business,’ said Thomasin, trying to veil her concern with cheerfulness. ‘I could find you a job here.’

  Nick’s spoon poised ever so slightly in its passage to his mouth. Win felt his alarm.

  Dick blotted his lips and smiled over the napkin. ‘I’m not a shop-keeper, Mam.’

  ‘Beneath you, is it?’ Thomasin watched the bowls being collected and replaced by plates of meat.

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘I do not eat dead animals!’ Feen informed the new maid. She was rebuked by her mother for her discourtesy to the servant and for interrupting her grandmother, and told to eat it.

  ‘You want to think yourself lucky, Miss Dolly Daisy Dimple,’ said Thomasin. ‘I never got big meals like this when I was little.’

  ‘And your poor grandfather only had taties,’ said Erin. ‘Taties for breakfast, dinner and tea.’

  Sonny joined in the fun. ‘And he had to kill his own spuds. Eat it up and you’ll grow big and strong like your mother. On second thoughts no, I don’t want another one pushing me around.’

  Stupid, stupid! cursed Feen at their laughter. Why do they all insist on treating me like a child? Especially silly old Nan. Dolly Daisy Dimple! She wanted to stab at the meat, but knew what this would bring, and so had to content herself with imagination.

  Jo
sie insisted that her daughter eat the meat, but Thomasin waved the episode way. ‘Oh, let her leave it, she’s only a bairn.’ Sonny objected that he had been forced to eat things he didn’t like by his mother. She ignored him and tried to change Feen’s sullen expression. ‘Eh, do you know what your father used to say when he was little? If I said, d’you want some pork, he’d say, “Is it pig pork?”’

  Feen took a mouthful of vegetables so that she would not have to laugh with the others. Her grandmother underwent a private sigh and asked herself what was wrong with today’s children, then said, ‘Now, where was I?’ She put a hand to her face and looked cross. ‘I seem to be forgetting all the time these days. My mind must be going.’ Her brow screwed up in concentration.

  ‘The business,’ Francis reminded her.

  ‘Oh yes, the business.’ Thomasin turned back to her elder son. ‘It’s not just the small concern it was when you left. I’ve got branches in York, Leeds, Bradford, Scarborough and I’m considering opening one in Sheffield … Least I was till your father died.’ She picked up her cutlery, staring down at her plate. ‘I don’t know if I can be bothered now – but you could do it for me.’

  ‘I really can’t see me managing a shop.’ Along with everyone else, Dick set upon a fresh course.

  ‘I’m not asking you to, just to set it in motion for me. You’d have a seat on the board, of course.’ Here, Erin said she hoped the rest of them would be consulted about this first, but Thomasin didn’t reply. ‘I might even abdicate my Chairmanship.’

  Nick looked at the morsel on his fork, then lowered it, unable to swallow.

  ‘Oh, Nick, can you help me, dear, I feel really faint.’ Win began to sway and grasped his arm to steady herself. ‘Help me upstairs.’ She looked woefully at Thomasin. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me, Nan?’ Thomasin projected concern, as did everyone, and asked if she wanted Vinnie to mix her something. ‘No, thank you, I just need to lie down.’ Win leaned on her husband’s arm. The other men stood as she was escorted from the room, Dickie running ahead to open the door.