Nettie's Secret

by Dilly Court

  ‘I think Duke might object to that, and Percy would have to earn a very good salary to run such an establishment.’

  Constance’s smiled faded. ‘I suppose Duke must have paid for everything after my parents died. I never gave it a thought.’

  ‘And, even now, he must be giving the condesa something towards the rent and your food.’

  ‘I’ll go out and find work.’ Constance sprang to her feet. ‘Perhaps I could sell flowers on street corners; that doesn’t look too hard.’

  Nettie had a vision of Constance let loose amongst the women who fought each other daily in order to obtain the best blooms, and the ragged girls who snatched up the bruised and broken flowers to make into nosegays. Their shrieks and the language they used turned the morning air blue, and it was not uncommon to see one or two of the older women staggering around bloodied and bruised. It was not an easy way of earning a living.

  ‘You would have to get up very early, before dawn even. I’ve heard the women screeching at each other. They’re a rough lot, Constance. But if you think you could …’

  ‘No, perhaps not,’ Constance said hastily. She took her bonnet from a hook behind the door and put it on. ‘I’ll take a walk along the Strand. Maybe it would give me some ideas.’

  Nettie shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t go out on your own in Paris, and London is no exception.’

  ‘Why does that apply to me and not to you? I know you go out unchaperoned.’ Constance’s bottom lip trembled. ‘It’s so unfair. What am I to do?’

  Nettie was struggling to think of a reply when the door opened and Percy breezed into the room.

  ‘Ah, there you are, querida. I’ve come to tell you that Byron has found me employment. I’ll be working alongside Pip as a law writer, which is a waste of my university education, but it’s a start and I’ll be paid for my labours.’

  ‘Oh!’ Constance stared at him blankly. ‘What does a law writer do?’

  ‘It’s very important,’ Nettie said quickly. ‘Documents have to be copied, and there must be no errors. It needs someone with a good hand and a great deal of patience.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Percy puffed out his chest. ‘At least I’ve found work. Aren’t you pleased?’

  ‘Does it pay well enough for us to rent a nice house with a garden?’

  Nettie and Percy exchanged meaningful glances.

  ‘Well,’ Percy said slowly, ‘not at the beginning, but I’ll progress quickly. That I promise. And you are happy enough here with Mama, aren’t you?’ He cocked his head on one side, listening with a smile on his face as Lisette launched into yet another aria.

  ‘I suppose so.’ Constance sat down again, clutching her bonnet. ‘You promised to take me to the zoological gardens today, Percy.’

  ‘Did I? I’m sorry, my love. I forgot, but we’ll do it another day. The chief clerk said that I could start work after luncheon, which is excellent. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Of course, we do.’ Nettie could see that Constance was in no mood to be encouraging. ‘Maybe, instead, we could visit Sanger’s Amphitheatre one evening. I believe the circus is quite amazing. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Constance?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Constance said sulkily, ‘but I’d prefer to watch a ballet or a pantomime.’

  Percy shrugged. ‘We could do that some time when I’ve made my fortune, but I have to go now. I don’t want to be late and create a bad impression.’

  ‘You said you would start after luncheon,’ Constance said crossly. ‘You could at least treat me to something nice to eat. I am so sick of baked potatoes or pea soup.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’m afraid my money won’t run to anything more appetising, querida.’ Percy leaned over to drop a kiss on her forehead. ‘When I get paid we will celebrate.’ He shot a wary glance at Nettie. ‘You’ll see that she gets something to eat, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course. You go to work and we’ll see you later.’ Nettie shooed him out of the door. She turned to Constance, frowning. ‘You behaved like a spoiled child just now. Percy was so pleased with himself and you couldn’t even give him a smile.’

  Constance covered her ears with her hands. ‘I’m not listening to you or to Lisette and her singing. Go away, Nettie. Leave me alone.’

  Nettie sighed and let herself out into the entrance hall. She was beginning to think that Constance and Duke deserved each other, and that Percy would be better off with someone who would support him and help him to make a career for himself. She was about to go upstairs when the front door opened and her father entered on a gust of cold air, bringing with it a flurry of dried leaves. Laden as he was with packages, Robert had to lean against the door in order to close it.

  ‘Canvases, Nettie,’ he said joyfully. ‘Paints and some new brushes. I’m going to make our fortune, my dear, and to celebrate I’m going to take you to the Lamb and Flag for some of their steak and kidney pie. You need a good meal to put the roses back in your cheeks.’

  ‘That would be lovely, Pa, but can we afford it?’

  ‘Don’t start that, Nettie. I’m in charge of our finances, and I say we need a good meal. I’ll take my purchases upstairs, and then we’ll be off. It’s very chilly, by the way. You’ll need to wrap up warm.’ He started up the staircase, but as Nettie was about to follow him she was caught in the draught of the front door opening once again. She turned her head to see Violet Fabron rush in, followed by Amelie, and neither of them looked happy.

  ‘Where is she, the bitch?’ Violet demanded. It seemed to be a rhetorical question as she ignored Nettie and went to hammer on Lisette’s door. ‘Open up, I say. Come and face me, you sneaky serpent.’

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Nettie asked anxiously.

  Amelie glared at her. ‘Your friend, the condesa, has just been given Miss Leslie’s part, which should be Ma’s, by rights.’

  ‘What happened to Miss Leslie?’

  ‘She’s run off with her sister’s husband, or some such thing. I dunno, but she’s out of the show, and the understudy was dead drunk, so she was passed over for the part. Ma should be the leading lady, not that foreign cow.’

  Nettie looked for her father, but Robert had negotiated the stairs with surprising speed for a middle-aged man, carrying heavy parcels.

  ‘Open up or I’ll kick the door in,’ Violet screamed. ‘Or I’ll get my old man to do it for me.’ She kicked the wooden panel at the foot of the door and yelped with pain. ‘I’ll scratch your eyes out.’

  The door was wrenched open and Lisette stood there, wearing a thin silk dressing robe that outlined the voluptuous curves of her naked body, leaving little to the imagination. She took in the situation with a single glance and, as Violet advanced on her with her hands fisted, Lisette swung her arm and landed a punch that knocked Violet off her feet.

  ‘What about you?’ Lisette demanded, staring at Amelie. ‘Do you want some of the same medicine? I was born and bred a water gypsy and I lived in the slums of Paris. No one gets the better of Lisette Joubert.’ She slammed the door in Amelie’s face.

  Nettie did not wait to see Amelie’s reaction. She hurried upstairs to fetch her bonnet and shawl. The condesa had proved beyond doubt that she was capable of standing up for herself.

  A week passed with Robert rising from his bed early each morning with renewed energy. He left Nettie to light the fire while he went out to fetch coffee from a stall in Southampton Street, and hot rolls from a bakery in Drury Lane. Then, having breakfasted together, Robert took his sketchbook and charcoal and set off for the National Gallery, intending to make detailed sketches of the paintings that Duke wanted copied. He returned home at midday to work on each of the three canvases he had on separate easels, all depicting the same masterpiece. Nettie secretly thought it a travesty of her father’s talent, but he seemed content to work hard, secure in the knowledge that these paintings were guaranteed a sale.

  Ma Burton could not hide her disappointment when Nettie went to her basement den at the beginning of November to p
ay the rent in full with no excuses. Nettie had always suspected that Ma enjoyed bullying and threatening her tenants with eviction or a visit from her brutish sons. The mere mention of their names was enough to make even the poorest of the lodgers find all or part of the money owed. Now, however, there was no need to worry. The rent was paid and they had an ample supply of coal, kindling and candles. It could snow for all she cared, but they would not suffer as they had in winters past.

  Best of all, she had finished writing her novel and, after a final read-through, she was preparing to take it to the publisher who had shown some interest in her previous attempt. It was exciting, even though the prospect of yet another rejection was daunting, but to gain financial independence was even more of a priority now. Her father’s new-found prosperity was unlikely to last long. He had ordered a new jacket and trousers from a very expensive tailor, who had not quite made Savile Row, even though he had an illustrious clientele. Robert had tried to persuade Nettie to visit the modiste, insisting that she must dress according to their new status, but she had refused, telling him that she did not need a smart gown. Never one to take no for an answer, Robert went off on his own to purchase a fur-trimmed mantle and dashing hat to match. When Nettie protested that the outfit was too expensive, her father merely smiled and said that it was his pleasure to treat such a good daughter, and she must allow him to spoil her once in a while. She had not the heart to argue, although she knew she would regret it when they were down to their last candle and had run out of coal.

  Constance was not sympathetic when she came upstairs to have a chat with Nettie that afternoon. ‘I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,’ she said crossly. ‘I would have opted for a new gown. Let your father worry about the money.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d had to live as I have.’ Nettie put her tea cup back on its saucer. ‘I just wish that Pa was as good at business as he is at painting. It doesn’t matter how much he earns, he simply spends more and gets into debt.’

  ‘I hate penny-pinching.’ Constance stared into the fire, frowning. ‘I find it hard to say this, Nettie, but I don’t think I love Percy. I did, when we were in Spain, but everything is so different now. My life is so dull. Lisette sleeps most of the day in order to be ready for the evening performance, and she expects me to wait on her hand and foot, even though Biddy is supposed to be her maid. I lose patience with the child, but she cries like a baby when she’s scolded.’

  ‘Poor little thing. She is very young, and she’s had a hard life. You ought to be kind to her.’

  ‘I know, but I can’t help getting impatient, and I haven’t seen Duke for over a week. Why doesn’t he come to see me? We are supposed to be man and wife.’

  ‘You sent him away. You told him you wanted nothing to do with him, as I recall, and you made it clear that you want an annulment.’

  ‘I know all that, but we are still married, and he should take care of me.’

  Nettie rose to her feet. ‘This is ridiculous. If you’ve changed your mind and you want to be with your husband, for goodness’ sake tell him, and let Percy know that you’ve had a change of heart.’

  Constance shook her head. ‘I don’t love Duke.’

  ‘You married him none the less. Maybe you don’t need either of them and you would be better on your own?’

  ‘Heavens, no!’ Constance stared at her wide-eyed. ‘I don’t want to be an old maid.’

  ‘Then choose one or the other.’ Nettie reached for her bonnet. ‘I’m going to the grocer’s shop in Drury Lane to get something for supper. Do you want to come with me?’

  ‘I suppose so. I’ve nothing better to do.’ Constance raised herself from the Windsor chair. ‘You could do with some comfortable furniture, and I don’t know how you manage to put up with that awful smell of oil paint and turpentine. It would make me ill.’

  ‘I’m used to it, and there are worse odours.’ Nettie took her cape from the back of a chair and slipped it on. She opened the door to find Duke with his hand raised as if about to knock. ‘Duke, this is a surprise, but I’m afraid my father is out.’

  Duke frowned. ‘I thought he would be working.’

  ‘He is. He’s gone to the National Gallery to check some details on the latest painting.’

  ‘I’d like to see his progress. May I come in and have a look?’

  Nettie stood aside. ‘Of course. I was just going out, but Constance is here.’ She turned to give Constance a meaningful look. ‘I’m sure she will entertain you until I get back.’

  ‘You can’t leave me alone with a gentleman,’ Constance protested.

  ‘He is your husband, Connie. I think you two have a lot to talk about. I won’t be long.’ Nettie picked up her shopping basket and hurried from the room before Constance had a chance to argue.

  She returned an hour later, having spent some time chatting to Mrs Sainsbury, the young wife of the shop owner in Drury Lane. Having made her purchases, Nettie walked home slowly in order to give Constance and Duke a chance to talk, but when she reached the top floor there was no sign of either of them. She unpacked her basket, but curiosity finally got the better of her and she went downstairs to knock on Lisette’s door.

  Biddy opened it and her small face split into a grin when she saw Nettie. ‘It’s you, miss.’

  ‘Yes, Biddy. I’ve come to see Miss Constance.’

  ‘She ain’t here, miss.’

  Nettie stared at her, frowning. ‘You mean she went out again?’

  ‘That’s right, miss. She went out with that nice Mr Duke. He come in with her and waited while she put on her bonnet and mantle, and he was ever so charming.’

  ‘Where did they go, Biddy?’

  ‘I think he said he would take her to a place where they sell cake and ice cream. Can’t remember the name.’

  ‘Was it Gunter’s?’

  Biddy frowned, ‘Maybe, I dunno.’

  ‘All right, thank you.’ Nettie patted her on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Miss Constance will be back in time for supper.’

  ‘Yes, miss. I hope so. I don’t like being left here on me own when the missis goes to the theatre.’

  ‘If you’re scared you can always come upstairs to see me.’

  Lisette emerged from her room, blinking sleepily. ‘Biddy, I told you to go out and fetch me a cup of pea soup from the street seller. Where is it? I have to be at the theatre in half an hour.’

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Nettie said hastily. ‘I came to see Constance.’

  ‘Shoo. Go now, you stupid child.’ Lisette scowled at Biddy, who fled from the room. ‘Where is Constance? She should be here to make sure the child does what she’s told.’

  ‘Biddy said that Duke took Constance to Gunter’s.’

  Lisette threw up her hands. ‘It’s all right for some. Here am I working hard to pay the rent and Constance does nothing but complain. Duke can take her off my hands, as far as I’m concerned. He’s welcome to her.’ She marched into her room and slammed the door.

  Nettie shrugged and made her way back upstairs. Constance was old enough to know her own mind, and Duke was her husband. He had a perfect right to take her out to tea.

  Later that evening, Robert had already gone to bed and Nettie was just about to undress when there was a loud knock on the door. She crossed the room and opened it to find Lisette, looking pale and exhausted, with traces of her stage make-up lingering on her face.

  ‘Is she here?’

  ‘Who do you mean?’

  ‘Constance, of course. Have you seen her this evening?’

  Nettie shook her head. ‘She went out with Duke. That’s the last time I saw her.’

  ‘She hasn’t come home.’

  ‘It’s very thoughtless of Duke to keep her out so late, but perhaps he took her to the theatre and supper afterwards.’

  ‘She never has a good word to say about him, Nettie. What will Percy think?’

  ‘I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.’<
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  ‘She’s a selfish girl. I’ll have words with her in the morning. Anyway, I’m going to bed and I’m locking the door. Maybe it will teach her to be more considerate.’ Lisette marched off in the direction of the stairs.

  Nettie closed the door and turned the key in the lock. Perhaps Constance had decided to accept Duke’s overtures after all? There was nothing to be done at this late hour, but Constance would have a lot of explaining to do in the morning. Nettie made ready for bed, but she lay wide awake for a long time. The feeling that all was not right would not go away.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nettie awakened early next morning. She could hear her father snoring gently in the next room, and she was careful not to make a noise and disturb his sleep. Her first task of the day was to fetch water from the pump in the back yard, and she made her way downstairs. The cold air took her breath away as she stepped outside, and the first light of dawn revealed a thin coating of frost on the pump and a skim of ice on the water in the stone trough. There were the usual sounds from the market, which was already in full swing. The clatter of cartwheels and the tramp of booted feet were as nothing compared to the chorus of raised voices of the porters, punctuated by bursts of raucous laughter. It was a normal beginning to each day, but the sound of someone sobbing their heart out in the privy was something out of the ordinary. Nettie stepped over the piles of detritus to knock on the door.

  ‘Are you all right? Who’s in there?’

  ‘It’s me,’ a small voice whimpered.

  ‘Biddy?’ Nettie opened the door and found Biddy sitting with her head in her hands. Tears trickled between her fingers and her shoulders shook.

  ‘What’s the matter? Are you ill?’

  Biddy shook her head.

  ‘It’s freezing out here. Come inside and you can tell me what’s wrong.’ Nettie turned away and waited. ‘How long have you been in there?’ she asked when Biddy finally emerged.

  ‘I dunno, miss.’