Lady Lightfingers (16 page)

‘You are the one who's too trusting, Aunt Harriet. I could be an imposter.'

Harriet smiled at that. ‘Are you one?'

‘No.'

‘Neither am I. I'm definitely your Aunt Harriet.'

Celia giggled at that. ‘I've vowed to take revenge on Jackaby Laws for what he did to my mother, you know.'

‘Oh . . . and how do you intend to go about that?'

Celia hadn't planned her revenge past the uttered threat stage.

‘I . . . I don't know yet. I might put an advertisement in the paper and offer a reward for his whereabouts.'

‘And then?'

She shrugged. ‘I've learned to act and recite. When I'm a little older I intend to join a travelling theatre company to earn my living. With a name like his, if he's still connected to the theatre I'm bound to come across him, sooner or later.'

A faint smile touched Harriet's lips. ‘You sounded so much like your mother then. Alice dreamed of going on the stage. Then she fell in love and forgot about it.'

‘My mother never forgot her dream. She joined a theatre group called The Wentworth Players and we toured with them for a while.'

‘Then what happened?'

‘The owner's wife didn't like my mother because she was a lady, as well as being a better actress. She complained to her husband and caused trouble, accusing him of flirting with her. My mother was dismissed from the company when we returned to London.' After a moment of reflection she said, ‘A good thing really, I suppose.'

‘How could it have been a good thing?'

‘If she hadn't been dismissed we wouldn't have been on the river bank at that particular time and Lottie wouldn't be alive today.'

‘Ah yes; do you think our destiny is controlled by fate then?'

‘The famous Russian mystic, Sophia de Lyle, does.'

Aunt Harriet raised an eyebrow. ‘Who?'

Celia giggled at her aunt's astonished expression. ‘Sophia de Lyle travelled with the Wentworth Players and told fortunes with a crystal ball. When I was eight she told me I was going to marry a handsome prince and live happily ever after. She told my mother she was going to live a . . .
long life.
'

After a short silence when they looked at each other and shared the same moment of sadness, Harriet said lightly, ‘Goodness, you've met some interesting people. I must say, though, her name doesn't sound very Russian and her prediction in your mother's case was sadly inaccurate.'

‘Sophia de Lyle's real name was Ellen Higgins.'

She
had
met interesting people, and intended to write about every one of them. Life here would probably feel all the slower, for she admitted that her past now seemed rather dramatic and colourful. She wouldn't have to beg or steal, or look over her shoulder here.

‘I wrote a story about Sophia de Lyle for my friend, Mr Thomas Hambert. He had lots of books. He bought me
Robinson Crusoe
as a gift. It's in my cart.'

‘That was kind of him. You must unpack your cart, then we'll drag it to the barn, though it doesn't look to be of much use after its travels, except perhaps for firewood.'

Millie came in with Lottie, who carefully carried four brown speckled eggs in a small basket over her arm. She was wearing a big smile on her face. ‘Mrs Millie gave me a chicken of my very own. She makes funny noises.' Lottie awkwardly clucked her tongue a couple of times, trying to mimic the hen. ‘Her name is Ginger and she's got shiny red feathers and is my friend. She laid an egg for my breakfast. And there's a donkey in the barn called Major and he pulls the cart. He allowed me to sit on his back.'

The pleasure Lottie got from such a simple act made Celia want to weep. Lottie had never had a garden to play in, let alone an animal to fuss over. ‘I'm sure Ginger lays beautiful eggs.'

Lottie's clothes were still dirty, but her hair was a halo of soft curls decorated with a ribbon. Tears welled into Celia's eyes.

Harriet also became teary-eyed. ‘I must buy Charlotte something to wear; we'll go into Dorchester this afternoon and buy her what's necessary, something serviceable to wear to church school – sailor suits are popular for children, I understand. And we must get her some boots with a little more room in them, else her feet won't grow properly. There are several gowns and some night attire that used to belong to my mother. We'll use the fabric from one of those to make her some pretty smocks, and some bodices. And I'll enrol her at the church school when she's ready.'

‘She can nearly write her name already. My ma taught her, and she can write the letters of the alphabet on a chalk board.'

‘Alice was a good teacher. Charlotte is very thin and we must build up her strength a little first.' She kissed Celia gently on the cheek. ‘We must build up yours too, my dear; you've had a hard time of it. Now, we must get your luggage unpacked.'

Celia was ashamed as she pulled out the soiled blankets and ragged cloaks. ‘Mr Hambert gave mother these blue blankets when we were in need of warmth. I should like to keep them.'

Harriet took one look at them and made a face. ‘I think not, Celia. They're past redemption. Everything you have is. We have plenty of blankets, and as for clothing, we can do better than what you have from my sister's wardrobe. Whatever the future brings, we must try and keep up standards, and improve on them. If the worst comes to the worst I can always sell this house. Let's make a bonfire out of them later; it will be like burning certain aspects of your past.'

‘I need to write some letters before we go to Dorchester. I didn't say goodbye to a friend because he was sick, and I'd like him to know I reached my destination safely, otherwise he will wonder, and fret about us.'

‘Is that the Mr Hambert you mentioned?'

And Celia had thought she hadn't been listening. ‘Yes. I also need to thank Busby and Mrs Busby for their hospitality. Without their help I think we might have perished.'

‘This third party you were travelling with; how old was he?'

‘Johnny Archer?' Celia shrugged. ‘He was about twelve and had nobody. The cart was his, and he was trying to sell it so he could buy something to eat. He asked if he could come with me, so he could find work. He'll grow up to be a good man with the Busby family. I must write to him too, because I know he felt guilty about following his heart and staying behind. He will worry about what happened to us, too. I don't want him to think he was unimportant.'

Harriet bestowed a smile on her. ‘I'm pleased you are charitable as well as having such good manners, my dear. I'll find you paper, pen and ink.'

In a short while Celia was settled at the writing desk in the study. She gazed into the air for a moment, then dipped the pen in the inkwell and began to write.

Ten

In September, Charles Curtis was celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday with a dinner at his house in Hanover Square. The dinner was hosted by his mother, and several acquaintances and friends were in attendance.

Charles had completed his education, graduating from Cambridge with honours. He'd spent the past year touring the continent with a group of several young men, taking in the sights, visiting the art galleries and learning about the antiquities as well as socializing.

His mother had invited a collection of pretty and eligible young ladies to dinner, but although they were lovely, he had no intention of marrying until he was firmly established in his career, nor falling into the trap of leading any young society woman astray. A forced, or loveless marriage was not for him. There were other types of women more than eager to fill a man's needs, and they didn't require a promise or a ring on their finger.

Abandoning her widowhood, his mother had married again before Charles had gone on tour. Joshua Harris was an insurance broker, and Charles got on well with him.

To his surprise, his mother had produced a daughter while he was away, so he now had a baby sister as well. Adelaide was a delightful child, affording Charles much amusement as she cooed, smiled and dribbled her way into his heart. Flirting was a female art from an early age, he concluded.

Before dinner Joshua asked to talk privately to him, and they went into the book-lined study. ‘I know a barrister who's keen to take you into his law practice if you intend to follow in your late father's footsteps,' he said.

‘I'd thought that I might. My father would certainly have expected me to become a barrister, had he lived.'

‘There might be a partnership in it eventually, if the pair of you suit each other. He's well thought of, and is building up a good practice. It will mean living in Poole or surrounding areas, and travelling around the district. I doubt if you'd mind that, since you've often talked about moving to the country. You must be prepared to sign articles. In return, he promises that you'll be offered plenty of court experience, much of it unpaid to start with.'

‘I would expect to sign articles, and I can easily support myself, as you know.'

‘On another matter altogether, I'd be prepared to buy this house from you, if you want to sell it. I don't feel happy about living here free of charge.'

‘It's a good address and I really don't want to sell. As it always has been, it's still my mother's home as far as I'm concerned. I'd rather you both lived here than lease it out to strangers. Does having me come and go bother you?'

‘If you'll forgive my frankness, Chas, I do get the impression that you're looked on as the master when you're here, which is a little galling. At least allow me to establish myself by paying the expenses and the household bills.'

‘You can pick up the servants' bill if that will make you feel better; a gentleman's agreement will suffice. I'll inform my accountant to present the accounts to you from now on.' They shook hands on it. ‘If having me here is a bit of an imposition, I might as well tell you that I'd intended to move into bachelor rooms now mother has you to look after her. I find living at home to be a little restrictive after the freedom of my travels. If I move to the country there will be no need.'

Joshua grinned. ‘I imagine it would be restrictive. After all, a young man must sow his wild oats before he settles.'

‘There speaks a veteran. I'm pleased that my mother married you, Joshua. She was too young to be left on her own. I must admit that I thought you were a dedicated bachelor, so the fact that you were seeing my mother worried me . . . and the marriage surprised me.'

‘I was a dedicated bachelor until I met Imogene. It was love at first sight as far as I was concerned, and she was worth waiting for. Now we have Adelaide, and that was something neither of us had really counted on.'

To which comment, Charles smiled. ‘I couldn't have had a nicer gift to come home to. However, putting my baby sister to one side, I confess I'm interested in the offer you mentioned. If I decide to pursue it I can quite easily move to Dorset. Does this barrister have a name?'

‘James Kent. He's a fairly young man, still in his thirties I should imagine. He is ambitious, but represents the poor on a regular basis.'

Interest came into Charles' eyes. ‘My father was an advocate for the poor.'

‘So I'm given to understand. James Kent is the nephew of the poet and philanthropist, the Reverend Thomas Hambert, who tutored your father at Cambridge. He has been retired for some time now.'

‘Ah, yes . . . I do vaguely remember him. The last time I saw him was at my father's funeral. It's been remiss of me to overlook him since then. I must call on him, especially if I decide to join his nephew in the practice of law. When can I meet James Kent?'

‘At the weekend, if you wish. He's in London for a week, and I've invited him to dinner. His uncle cannot attend unfortunately; he has a prior engagement.'

‘A pity,' Charles murmured.

‘You're lucky to be in a privileged position where you don't need to add to your existing wealth, which is why I thought this position might suit you. However, don't be too hasty about it, and please think it over.'

Chas liked Dorset and was quite prepared to establish a modest country home there if he decided to move to the county. Although never without a coin, he wasn't obvious about his wealth. He gambled in small amounts, settled his accounts promptly, and no longer allowed his waistcoat to swing open when he was slumming it. That had been a lesson well learned!

He grinned as the thought hit him, which it often did. The cheek of that blue-eyed ragamuffin girl, coming to his house to claim a reward for a card case she'd lifted from him. It had been an expensive kiss, but well worth it. He wondered where she was now; and was she still innocent? He doubted it, and he doubted if he'd ever set eyes on her, or his money, again. Still, that had been easy come easy go.

He remembered how large her eyes had become when she'd set them on the cash. Remembered how soft her mouth had been. After she'd gone he'd experienced shame at the way he'd treated her, demanding a kiss . . . ashamed that he'd been the cause of her leaving her home by involving Bessie Jones, who ran the whorehouse. What if she'd been forced into that life, along with her young sister? A sick feeling yawned inside him at the thought. If he ever met her again he must try and make it up to her.

Dinner was a social occasion to be relished. The conversation was witty, the laughter spontaneous. Charles and his friends flirted light-heartedly with the ladies. He hadn't enjoyed himself quite so well for a long time. His mother was proud of him. He'd never seen her so happy, and he had Joshua to thank for that.