Mermaids Singing (41 page)

‘Get me home,’ Adeline said, grimacing with pain. ‘I’m afraid I am not very well.’

Warner let them into the house and, if he felt hostile towards Kitty, he kept his feelings well under control. Having sent the new hall boy for the doctor, Warner went in person to the kitchen to ask Mrs Dixon to make tea for her ladyship. Slowly, and with many stops along the way, Kitty and Betty managed to help Adeline up the stairs to her bedroom. It took both their efforts to get her undressed and into her white lawn nightgown and, by the time they helped her into bed, it was obvious that she was very poorly indeed. Her cries and moans echoed round the room as she clutched Kitty’s hands, squeezing them until Kitty felt that her bones would snap.

By the time the doctor arrived, it was all over. With tears running down her cheeks, Betty wrapped the tiny body in a clean towel and took it from the room. Kitty sat at the head of the bed, bathing Adeline’s face with cool water, while the doctor did what was necessary to make her comfortable. When Adeline was asleep, sedated by a generous dose of laudanum, Kitty went to look for Betty and found her in the kitchen, drinking tea with Mrs Dixon and Mrs Brewster. George had just returned from watching the Coronation procession and he stood listening to the sad news, with a Union Jack still clutched in his hand.

‘And it was a baby boy too,’ Mrs Dixon said, all her chins wobbling in unison. ‘A son and heir. The master will be so upset.’

‘It’s very sad, but then I lost three myself before I had Jem,’ Betty said, sipping her tea. ‘There’ll be other babies. She’s a big, strong lady.’

‘That’s very true,’ agreed Mrs Brewster. ‘Thank God you was here to help, Mrs Scully, for I don’t think I could have managed, given the circumstances.’

George drew Kitty aside. ‘Are you all right, Kitty. You look very pale.’

Kitty managed a smile even though she didn’t feel in the least like smiling, but it was good to know that George had forgiven her at last. ‘I’m fine, thank you, George.’

He hooked his arm around her shoulders, giving her a friendly squeeze. ‘That’s the ticket. You always was a spunky little thing. Sit down and have a cup of tea and then I’ll call a cab to take you and Mrs Scully home.’

Thinking of the cost, Kitty shook her head. ‘We can get an omnibus.’

‘Not much hope of that,’ George said, taking a leather purse from his pocket. ‘London’s gone mad with celebrating. I’m sure Sir Edward would insist on paying for a hansom cab to take you both safely home. It’s the least he could do in the circumstances.’

Whether Sir Edward was grateful or not remained a mystery. A month passed by and then another – Christmas came and went without a word from Dover Street. Kitty worked hard finishing off the orders for gowns that she had begun in Sackville Street and even managed to deliver them on time. She used some of their hard-earned money to place advertisements in the
Lady’s Pictorial
magazine and also in the
Lady
, and was agreeably surprised to receive a steady trickle of enquiries. Some of these came from her old clients, the wives of wealthy City merchants and bankers, but the majority now came from ladies of quality. Kitty couldn’t help wondering if Lady Mableton had something to do with this, whether by recommendation, or simply because her gown at the Coronation had caused something of a stir. However, what really mattered was the fact that Kitty was slowly but surely becoming recognised once again as a modiste to the rich and fashionable. She was pleased, but too exhausted by hard work to realise the full implications of her success.

In her rare moments of free time, Kitty wrote to Jem, telling him all the positive things that happened and taking care never to complain about living back in Tanner’s Passage. His replies came in the form of postcards and the occasional letter, including one, dated just a few weeks before Christmas, telling them that Captain Madison’s agent had come across a vessel, beached in Chelsea Creek, that needed a bit of reconstruction but was ideal for their requirements, and he had secured it at a good price. Kitty and Betty read and reread the letter, chuckling over Jem’s enthusiasm that leapt off ink-blotted pages, scrawled with misspelt words; but then, as Betty said, Jem had never been much of a scholar, he was more a practical man, just like his father. They would, Jem wrote, be home in early spring, this time for good.

‘You’ll have to make up your mind then, Kitty,’ Betty said, having just reread the letter, as they were finishing breakfast.

Kitty took the letter, folding it carefully and tucking it back in her writing case, keeping her head down to avoid Betty’s candid gaze. ‘Make up my mind?’

‘You know very well what I mean. My Jem loves you and I don’t want to see him hurt.’

‘I’d never do such a thing. I’m too fond of Jem for that.’

‘Too fond isn’t the same thing as being in love, Kitty. If you can’t love him like a woman then don’t keep him dangling after you, like you did to poor George.’

Kitty jumped to her feet. ‘That’s unfair. I never led George on. I told him often enough that I didn’t want that sort of thing.’

Betty’s face creased into anxious lines. ‘I know what you went through, ducks – we all do – but you can’t let it ruin your whole life.’

‘I’ve got work to do,’ Kitty said, scooping up her writing case and pencils. ‘I’ll be in the sewing room, if you need me.’

Upset and unable to get Betty’s words out of her head, Kitty was just settling down to finish some sketches for one of her new clients when the loud noise of someone knocking on the front door made her jump up to look out of the window. Tweaking back the net curtain, she saw the Mableton carriage drawn up alongside the kerb. She spun around as the door opened and Betty ushered Adeline into the sewing room.

‘My dear Kitty, how well you look.’ Adeline glanced at the half-finished gowns pinned to dressmaker’s dummies. ‘And you are busy too. That’s all to the good.’

Kitty bobbed a curtsey. ‘Are you completely recovered now, my lady?’

Adeline didn’t answer immediately. She peeled off her kid gloves slowly, finger by finger. ‘You helped me when I was taken ill,’ she said, sitting down on the nearest chair and arranging her skirts, plucking at the material with long, white fingers. ‘I need you to help me now.’

‘My lady?’

Adeline raised her head, her eyes dark pools in a pale face. ‘My physician tells me that I will never be able to bear another child. No, don’t say anything. I’ve had enough platitudes to last me a lifetime.’ Adeline rose to her feet, nervously wringing her hands as she began to pace the floor. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. My infectious disease of a sister-in-law has finally persuaded some fool to marry her. If she should breed, heaven help us, then her child would inherit the Mableton estates. I won’t have that happen. I simply won’t.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Kitty said, appalled by this sudden outburst. ‘What has all this got to do with me?’

‘It was you who told me about the child Leonie.
Her
child – the woman that my husband still loves in spite of everything.’

‘Oh, no, my lady,’ Kitty cried, clasping her hands together. ‘I never said any such thing.’

Adeline spun around to face Kitty. ‘My husband married me for my fortune and to produce an heir to the Mableton estates. I can’t give him that heir but my money can buy one. I want the child Leonie. Do you understand, Kitty? I want to adopt her and bring her up as my own.’

‘But my lady, Leonie has a mother. Bella would never agree to such a thing and Maria would never let you take Leonie.’

‘I visited Mableton Manor and I’ve seen Leonie. She’s running wild, learning bad habits from those unruly urchins that belong to your sister. All her potential will be lost if she isn’t rescued, given a decent upbringing and an education suitable for a young lady. I want you to go to Mableton Manor and persuade Maria to give Leonie into my care.’

Kitty covered her ears, shaking her head; she would not listen to such wild ranting.

Adeline sprang at her, wrenching Kitty’s hands away so that she was forced to listen. ‘I’m a desperate woman but I’m neither unfair nor unkind. I’m offering Leonie a better life. You must see that.’

‘You can’t take her away from the people she knows and loves. I won’t help you in such wickedness.’

‘You would do best to reconsider.’ Adeline’s lips tightened into a straight line. ‘If you don’t help me, I will tell my husband to evict your sister and her brats from Mableton Manor. I will have the Lane woman thrown out on the streets and I will bring Leonie to London with or without your help.’

‘You wouldn’t be so cruel.’

‘Cruel? Wasn’t it cruel enough that Leonie’s mother abandoned her and went chasing off to France after her worthless lover? With me, Leonie will have everything she could ever want in life and more. I can give her all this, but I would rather have her willingly and with her grandmother’s consent. Maria and that sister of yours will listen to you. Bribe them with money, say anything you like, but don’t come back without Leonie.’ Adeline emptied her purse onto Kitty’s worktable, spilling out a heap of golden guineas. ‘That will cover your expenses.’

‘It’s not right, my lady. And even if I did go, Maria would never agree to such a thing.’

‘Everyone has a price. I believe that Maria sold her own daughter to Sir Desmond. Do you really think she can’t be bought again?’

‘I know that Maria loves Leonie and that she is sorry for everything that happened to Bella. She’s had a hard life, my lady, but she’s not a bad person.’

‘Bah! She’s as selfish as her daughter. They’re a useless pair of nobodies who will drag the child up in their own self-centred mould.’

Shaking her head, Kitty held out her hands, pleading. ‘Please, my lady, don’t do this thing. I know Bella is sometimes selfish, but she adores Leonie and she fought so hard for her.’

‘You’re a good friend to that woman, better than she deserves.’ Adeline’s expression changed subtly and her voice softened. ‘Help me, Kitty. I promise you that Leonie will be loved just as I would have loved my poor, dead child. After all, she is Edward’s half-sister. She belongs with the Mableton family.’

Fighting back tears of desperation, Kitty struggled to find the words that might change Lady Mableton’s mind, even though she had to admit that some of her accusations against Bella and Maria were true.

Adeline closed her purse with a snap. ‘I’ll allow you a fortnight. If I haven’t heard from you by then, you know what will happen.’

The poor lady had gone mad with grief, having lost her one chance at motherhood; that was Betty’s opinion but, like Kitty, she was equally horrified at the thought of Leonie being used as a pawn in Adeline’s master plan to keep control of the Mableton estate. The heap of gold coins lay untouched on the sewing room table as Kitty and Betty racked their brains to think of a way to contact Bella. She had sent a hastily scrawled postcard from Paris, shortly after her arrival, announcing that she had found Rackham and that everything was absolutely wonderful. There had been a Christmas card with a scribbled note inside announcing that Bella had found instant success, singing and dancing in a famous nightclub, but characteristically she had not thought to include a forwarding address. Unfortunately the original postcard seemed to be lost, even though they searched the house from top to bottom. The only detail that Kitty could remember was the photograph of a windmill. Although, for the life of her, Kitty could not think what a windmill would be doing in the centre of Paris.

In the middle of the night, waking from a fitful sleep, it came to her in a flash of inspiration: the one person who might possibly have gleaned bits and pieces of worldly knowledge from her employer lived not a million miles away.

Sophia Weston led Kitty into her private parlour at the rear of the house in Chelsea and then, despite Kitty’s protests that she was neither hungry nor thirsty, Sophia hurried off to fetch tea and cake. Unlike Captain Madison’s starkly masculine sitting room, Mrs Weston’s parlour was cosily crowded with clutter. A coal fire roared up the chimney beneath a mantelshelf swagged with moss green velvet that matched the curtains and portières. China figurines jostled for position with silver-framed photographs on every available surface, and it would have been difficult, Kitty thought, looking around the room, to stick a pin between the plaques and watercolour paintings that covered the walls.

Sophia returned carrying a laden tea tray, settling it down on a table covered with a crimson chenille cloth. ‘Now then, Kitty,’ she said, pouring the tea. ‘I can see that something is troubling you. Would you like to tell me about it?’

With her tea untouched and rapidly cooling, Kitty plunged into the story, leaving nothing out and ending with a description of the postcard from Paris.

‘Well, that’s the easy part,’ Sophia said, smiling. ‘The windmill is a famous nightclub in Paris, called the Moulin Rouge. Although from what you’ve told me about her, your friend could well have moved on by now.’

‘But she might still be there.’ Kitty jumped to her feet. ‘I’ll send a telegram. The only trouble is I don’t know how.’

‘There I can help,’ Sophia said, heaving herself out of her comfortable chair by the fire. ‘Captain Jasper is very fond of newfangled inventions, particularly the telegram. We’ll go to the telegraph office straight away.’

A week passed and Kitty’s worst fears were realised when there was no reply to the telegram. Betty urged her to go to Mableton Manor to warn Maria, but Kitty knew that would not solve the problem. Maria would become angry and defensive but she would be helpless against the wealth and power of the Mableton family. With time running out, Kitty decided to go to Dover Street and speak to Sir Edward himself. After all, he was a reasonable man and he had shown her small kindnesses in the past. Maybe, if she put it very tactfully, he would try to dissuade his headstrong wife from pursuing this disastrous course. Betty was frankly sceptical, but Kitty insisted that anything was worth a try and she set off for Dover Street early the following morning.

Walking part of the way, Kitty caught an omnibus from Ludgate Hill and, as she left the uniform greyness of the docks and the City behind her, the rain clouds parted and the sun shone from a clear blue sky. Alighting in Piccadilly, Kitty felt a surge of optimism as she walked briskly towards Dover Street with the soft spring breeze fanning her cheeks and, for the first time that year, there was real warmth in the sun’s rays.