by Dilly Court
‘That’s enough of that,’ said the constable. ‘Make yourselves scarce, or I’ll arrest the lot of you for breach of the peace.’
Maria spat on the pavement at his feet and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. ‘So much for the law.’
Bella drew herself upright, stifling a sob. ‘It’s all right, Officer. We’re leaving.’
‘Look, ladies, this is all very fine and I ain’t seen a better show since Maria Marten and the Red Barn, but some of us got a living to make.’ The cabbie, who had been watching everything from the safety of his driving seat, leaned down and tapped Maria on the shoulder. ‘If you don’t want me then I’d respectfully ask you to cough up the necessary.’
‘Oh God, what shall we do?’ Bella leaned against Maria, looking perilously close to fainting.
Thinking quickly, Kitty made the decision for them. ‘Tanner’s Passage, if you please, cabbie.’
White-faced, Bella fell back against the squabs of the hackney carriage and closed her eyes.
‘Don’t worry, my lady.’ Kitty leaned over to pat Bella’s clawed hands. ‘We’ll get Miss Leonie back. We’ll find a way.’
‘Don’t give her false hopes,’ Maria said, grimly. ‘Mableton’s got the law on his side and the money to back him up. The likes of us don’t stand a chance.’
‘I won’t believe that,’ Kitty cried, vehemently. ‘We’ll find a way even if we have to break into the house and really kidnap her.’
‘You’re just a kid. You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I know you can’t just give up when things are bad. I know little Leonie belongs with her mother.’
The cab rumbled to a halt and Kitty leapt out, barely waiting for it to stop, leaving Bella to pay the driver. Rapping on the door knocker she listened and waited, stepping backwards and staring up at the sitting room window, knocking again when no one came, a cold shiver of alarm running down her spine.
Eventually Betty opened the door, staring dazedly at Kitty for a moment. She burst into tears. ‘Kitty, Kitty, thank God you’ve come.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Kitty cried, flinging her arms around her. ‘Has something dreadful happened to Jem?’
Betty shook her head and, seeing Bella, she wiped her eyes on her apron. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, Ma’am, only I’m not quite myself today.’
‘Perhaps we should leave,’ Bella said. ‘It seems we’ve come at a bad time.’
‘Nonsense!’ Maria said, pushing past her and dumping the bags on the flagstone floor. ‘We haven’t met, Mrs Scully, but I’m Maria Lane, Bella’s mother. Whatever the trouble, I’m sure that we can help you.’
Betty stared at the luggage, shaking her head. ‘If it’s rooms you want, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I have a very sick child to care for.’
‘Polly!’ Kitty clutched Betty’s hand. ‘What’s the matter with her?’
‘It’s the measles. She’s got it really bad. I have to sit with her day and night. Oh, Kitty, I’m sorry, ducks, but I can’t let out rooms at present.’
‘Mrs Scully – Betty – I’m so sorry,’ Bella said, laying a hand on her shoulder. ‘I do so understand. My own little girl has recently been sick with the measles and I do know what you must be going through.’
Sniffing, Betty rummaged in her pocket for a hanky. ‘You’ll understand then, my lady.’
‘I thought we’d agreed, it’s just Bella now, and this is Maria, my – mother.’ Bella hooked her arm around Betty’s shoulders. ‘We are in urgent need of accommodation, just for a short while, and we will do everything we can to help.’
Polly was desperately ill. That fact became apparent to Kitty the moment she was allowed into the sickroom. Her heart went out to Betty, who steadfastly believed that Polly could make a recovery from the disease, even though it was obvious to everyone else that the poor child was clinging to life by the thinnest of threads. After a day or two, there was no question of them leaving the house in Tanner’s Passage. Maria took over the household duties, cooking and cleaning and going out to buy food. Bella and Kitty took turns at Polly’s bedside, allowing Betty to snatch a few hours much-needed sleep on the sofa.
Although she gave herself up entirely to helping care for Polly, Kitty knew that Bella never lost sight for a moment of her main aim, which was to get Leonie back from her father. They shared the night duties between them and, one evening when she came to relieve Bella, Kitty found her slumped in the chair sound asleep. In her hand was a letter that she must have been in the middle of writing to Edward. Ashamed of herself, but unable to resist the temptation, Kitty scanned the tear-stained, ink-blotted page where Bella begged Edward to intercede on her behalf with Desmond. If he had any feeling left for her, she had written, then he would understand her mother’s heart and make Sir Desmond restore her child to her.
Folding the crumpled paper, Kitty tucked it into the pocket of Bella’s apron and gently awakened her, insisting that she went to her bed.
Sitting beside Polly in the long night hours, holding her hand, quieting her when she raved in fever and bathing her with cool water, Kitty felt her heart heavy with sadness – both for Bella, who had had her child taken from her, and for Betty, who would almost certainly soon lose her daughter. Kitty had seen enough of sickness and disease in Sugar Yard to know when life was ebbing away like the tide. Despite all the loving care lavished upon her, Polly grew weaker by the day; her enfeebled body unable to fight off the lung infection that threatened her fragile life.
Polly’s funeral took place on a cold December morning. The graveyard sparkled with hoar frost and a savage wind blew from the Essex marshes, stinging the mourners’ eyes. Even Maria, who normally never displayed any signs of emotion, wiped the tears away, complaining that it was the east wind that made her eyes water. After the pathetically small casket was lowered into the grave and the final words were spoken by the vicar, Betty broke down and sobbed. She had been so brave up until that final moment when the handfuls of earth fell upon the wooden coffin, but now she gave way entirely to her grief.
Between them, they got her home and Kitty put her to bed with a stone hot-water bottle and a dose of laudanum. Maria, practical as usual, began peeling vegetables to put in the pot with a beef bone to make a stew for their supper, but Bella appeared restless, saying that she wanted to go for a walk to clear her head. Afraid that Polly’s funeral had aggravated Bella’s own grief at the loss of her child, Kitty insisted that she went with her. Asking no questions, Kitty followed Bella onto the omnibus and was unsurprised when they alighted in Piccadilly. She knew then that they were heading for Dover Street, but she did not try to stop her.
Frost particles glinted on the Portland stone pavements and her breath curled around her face like smoke as Kitty kept up step for step with Bella. After an hour of walking up and down outside the house, all the feeling had gone from her feet and hands.
‘Bella,’ Kitty said, laying her hand on Bella’s sleeve. ‘I know you want to catch sight of Leonie, but it’s not going to happen today. Let’s go home.’
‘I can’t just give up. I kept thinking as they lowered poor little Polly into the cold black hole that it could have been my Leonie, and I would never see her again.’ Tears flowed freely down Bella’s cheeks.
‘I understand, I really do, but we’re getting funny looks,’ Kitty said, hooking Bella’s hand into the crook of her arm. ‘Let’s go. We can always come back another day.’
‘I must have news of her, Kitty. Can’t you see that? I must know what’s going on behind those closed doors or I’ll go mad.’
Kitty stared at her helplessly for a moment. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had stood on this spot, a terrified scullery maid, worshipping the beautiful, angelic lady of the house. Bella had protected her then, saving her from the savage bullying below stairs but now they were more like sisters, the awful secrets of their past lives putting them on equal footing. Beautiful Bella, raised like herself in the East End, the daughter of an innk
eeper and a gypsy, ravished by her own father and sold to the highest bidder, Rackham. Gazing at Bella’s tragic face, Kitty remembered the conversation that had passed between Bella and Rackham that night in his lodgings. Whatever Bella said about him, Kitty sensed that deep down she still harboured feelings for the man who had been her first love.
‘We aren’t doing any good here,’ Kitty said, dragging Bella along the street. ‘Mr Rackham knows what’s going on in society, what with him having a lord as a cousin. He owes you a few favours if you ask me – that’s if he ain’t in prison for bopping Sir Desmond on the nose.’
Mrs Hennessy opened the door and squinted at them short-sightedly. ‘Yes?’
‘Is Mr Rackham at home?’ Bella demanded.
Mrs Hennessy’s suspicious expression turned into a full-blown scowl. ‘No he ain’t and I don’t want the likes of you a-knocking at my door. This is a respectable lodging house, so go away.’
‘How dare you speak to me in that tone,’ Bella said, trembling with anger. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘I know who you are, all right. You was here that night the coppers come banging on me door. I’ve read the newspapers and you should be ashamed of yourself, carrying on behind your poor husband’s back. Get off my doorstep and don’t come back.’
‘I haven’t read the newspapers, but whatever they say I’m sure that none of it’s true. I must see Mr Rackham. If he isn’t here at least tell me where I can find him.’
‘He’s gone abroad, so I heard, and good riddance to bad rubbish.’ Mrs Hennessy slammed the door in their faces.
Chapter Ten
The house in Tanner’s Passage was shrouded in a pall of sadness. Kitty felt as though her heart would break as she witnessed Betty’s suffering; she tried to comfort her, but nothing she said or did seemed to have the slightest effect. Sometimes Betty stayed in bed all day, staring blankly into space, as if her mind was far away from her tired body. At other times, if she could be persuaded to get up, she would sit, huddled on the sofa, cuddling Polly’s rag doll. If only Jem would come home, Kitty thought miserably. He had always been able to make his mother smile, but it would be several months before his ship was due to return to London. She had wanted to write to him and break the sad news gently, but Betty had been adamant that it must wait until she could tell him face to face. In her mind’s eye, Kitty could see Jem’s cheerful grin as he walked through the door on his homecoming, and his inevitable heartbreak when he learnt that his beloved Polly was dead. Out of loyalty to Betty, she was forced to abide by her wishes, but she grieved inwardly, anticipating Jem’s pain.
Then there was Bella, who went about pale and silent as a ghost, saying nothing but quite obviously suffering torments at the loss of her child. Kitty sensed that missing Captain Edward was adding to Bella’s deep sadness; but that was a question far too personal to ask, even though they had abandoned all the formalities that had constrained them in Dover Street. At first, it had been difficult dropping the ‘my lady’ and using Bella’s given name, and even more so when it came to Miss Lane. The name Maria did not trip easily off Kitty’s tongue, but Bella had insisted that they were just one family and it was foolish to stand on ceremony.
Maria seemed to be the least touched by the overwhelming emotions that raged in the grief-stricken household. If anything, Kitty thought, Maria was simply angry. She was angry with Sir Desmond for behaving so brutally, angry with Rackham for getting them so far and then apparently abandoning them. And most of all she was angry at their sudden dive into poverty. She made it plain that she hated the house, she hated Tanner’s Passage and, sometimes Kitty thought, she seemed to hate everyone, even Bella.
The most pressing problem now was money, or the lack of it. With three extra people living in her house and with only three letting bedrooms, Betty was unable to supplement her income by taking in commercial travellers. In any case, Kitty thought wearily, even if they found alternative accommodation, Betty was in no state to be left on her own. She had not touched her sewing since Polly’s death and, after several irate ladies had sent their servants to complain that their new dresses were long overdue, Maria and Kitty had worked hard to finish them. Their efforts had brought in little money, but at least it was enough to feed them for several days.
In the unhappy house, Kitty did her best to keep up their spirits, saying nothing about her own problems. She desperately wanted to go and see Maggie and the children, if only to check that they were in good health, but she was terrified of bumping into Sid. Christmas came and passed, almost unnoticed. Bella’s money had run out and things were getting desperate.
At the beginning of the New Year, and when everyone else in the country seemed to be celebrating the dawn of a new century, Kitty was busy scanning the Situations Vacant columns of old newspapers in the pie and eel shop. She went knocking on doors in answer to advertisements for scullery maids in Islington, Bloomsbury and Kensington. She wore her boots out with trudging long distances on hard pavements, but it seemed that her character reference from Lady Mableton went against her, as much as having no reference at all. No one wanted to employ her.
Bella had tried every theatre manager in the West End and been turned down by all of them.
‘It’s so unfair,’ Kitty cried, one morning at breakfast. ‘Why does everyone take Sir Desmond’s side?’
‘Because men always have the upper hand,’ Maria said, paring thin slices from a loaf of stale bread. ‘I’ve a good mind to join that there Women’s Suffrage Society we keep hearing about.’
‘We need money,’ Bella said, pushing her teacup aside. ‘It’s no use railing against Desmond and men in general. We have to help ourselves, for no one else is going to.’
‘Oh, yes! And how do we do that when we’re close to starvation?’ demanded Maria. ‘You’ve tried every theatre in London and been shown the door. Doesn’t that make you hate bloody Mableton?’
‘Hating Desmond won’t put food on the table. I can still sing and act. There must be some theatre manager who will give me a chance.’
‘That’s the last of the bread and the marg,’ Maria said, scraping a tiny amount of margarine onto a slice of bread. ‘Take it up to Betty with a cup of tea, there’s a good girl, Kitty.’
‘I’ll go back to my old patch on the foreshore,’ Kitty said. ‘Even if it’s only a few pennies a day, at least it will help.’
‘And they’ll be fishing your dead body out of the Thames if that bugger Sid should come across you,’ Maria said, punctuating her words by stabbing actions with the bread knife.
‘There’s no need for Kitty to put herself in danger,’ Bella said, jumping to her feet. ‘If they won’t give me a job up West, I’ll go back to the East End, where I started.’
Maria dropped the knife with an exclamation of disgust. ‘You’re still Lady Mableton. You’ve risen above that sort of life.’
‘No, Ma,’ Bella said, slowly. ‘I’m still the same person. Marrying Desmond didn’t make me a lady.’
‘No, Madam, but it gave you money, position and respectability.’
‘And look where that got me. Anyway, I’d never have married Desmond if you hadn’t kept on and on at me.’
‘You’d have wasted your life waiting for Rackham to come back,’ Maria said, with a sarcastic curl of her lip. ‘We had comfort and security while you were married to Mableton. You’d never have had that with Rackham.’
‘I hate Rackham,’ Bella cried passionately. ‘And I loathe Desmond. My life with him was a living hell. The only good thing that came of it was Leonie and now he’s taken her away from me.’
‘You, you, you!’ Maria said, her eyes glinting angrily. ‘I sacrificed my own identity to make you look good. Mableton wouldn’t have looked at you twice if he’d known that your mother was half gypsy and your father kept a pub in the Commercial Road.’
‘That was your idea,’ Bella said, snatching up her hat and cape. ‘I never asked you to do that. I never wanted to live a lie.’
&
nbsp; Maria stared at her for a moment and her anger seemed to evaporate. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Perhaps it was, but don’t think it was easy for me to act the servant in my own daughter’s house.’
‘I know it wasn’t, Ma,’ Bella said, her expression softening. ‘I know you did it for the best.’
‘And you can’t go roaming round the East End on your own,’ Maria said, untying her apron strings. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I don’t need a chaperone, thanks all the same.’
‘Let me come with you, Bella,’ pleaded Kitty.
Pausing in the doorway, Bella smiled. ‘Thank you, Kitty dear, but I really can look after myself.’
Snatching up Betty’s breakfast tray, Kitty followed Bella to the front door. ‘Take care.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Bella said, as she closed the door. ‘I’ll be fine.’
She is so beautiful, Kitty thought, as she trudged up the stairs. Bella is so kind and so brave. If only some nice theatre manager would give her a fresh start. How could anyone refuse to help someone who was so sweet and lovely and sang like a nightingale?
She went into the sitting room where Betty was still in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. Kitty shivered. The room was freezing and her breath curled out in front of her like puffs of steam from a kettle. For weeks, there had been no money to buy coal for the fire, and damp patches had spread in great blots on the walls.
‘Here’s your breakfast, Betty. How do you feel today?’
‘I’m not very hungry, Kitty love. You eat my breakfast or Maria will tell me off.’
Kitty put the tray down on the pine chest of drawers. ‘You must keep your strength up,’ she said, perching on the edge of the bed. ‘What would Jem say if he could see you like this?’
Betty closed her eyes and her pale lashes stood out against the bruise-like shadows beneath them. ‘Jem is far, far away. Anything can happen at sea. He might never come home again.’
Kitty seized her by the shoulders and shook her hard. ‘Don’t you dare say things like that. I won’t hear of it. Jem is safe and well. I’d know it in my bones if there was anything wrong.’ Kitty plunged her hand down inside her blouse and pulled out the half-sovereign that she had pierced and threaded on a piece of ribbon. ‘We’re like this, Jem and me, two halves of the same coin, like brother and sister. He’ll be home in a few months’ time and he’ll expect you to be the ma he remembers, not some pale skeleton what’s lost the will to live.’
