The Best of Sisters (44 page)

Freddie’s eyes darkened. ‘I don’t love her. I never have.’

‘But you sleep with her.’ The words came out before Eliza could stop herself. ‘You must care for her just a little bit.’

‘No, it never got that far, you must believe me, Liza. I brought her back home because she was the mother of Bart’s son, and I knew how much you loved your brother.’

‘You did that for me?’

‘For you, and for the boy and most of all for myself,’ Freddie said, smiling ruefully. ‘I don’t expect you to understand the feelings of an old reprobate like me.’

‘Don’t say that. I won’t have you say things against yourself, Freddie. You’re a good, kind man and I …’ Eliza bit her lip. She had almost blurted out that she loved him. She turned her head away and was almost relieved to see Daisy running down the stairs trailing her cape behind her.

‘Where’s that child?’ Daisy demanded breathlessly. ‘Go and see if he’s ready, Eliza.’

Freddie strode to the foot of the stairs. ‘Go and fetch him yourself, Daisy. Eliza isn’t a servant and I won’t have you speak to her like that.’

Daisy paused, looking down at him with her mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Freddie!’

‘I’m tired of your tears and your tantrums. I’ve
done everything that you wanted of me, Daisy. I brought you to England and I’ve given you everything that you wanted in order to keep you happy, and to look after Tommy. You chose to read more into our relationship than there was. Well, here is where the fiction ends. As a matter of honour, I will continue to support you and your boy, but I want you to understand that you are free to go and do as you please.’

‘Bah!’ Daisy said, curling her lip. ‘I’ve always been free, Freddie Prince. You was useful to me, but now I got me sights set on bigger things. So I’ll say ta very much for the roof over our heads. But, cully, I won’t be needing it for long. You can trust me to be sure of that.’

Shocked at Daisy’s harsh tone, Eliza fought down the desire to rush to Freddie’s side. It was no surprise to her that Daisy had been using him, but there was still a nagging doubt in her mind. She clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to allay the pain of jealousy that shafted through her heart. Daisy might be a lot of things that were not particularly praiseworthy, but she was the sort of woman who could turn a man’s head with a flutter of her long eyelashes. She had made Bart fall in love with her; and Freddie – Eliza was not certain, but she suspected that, at the beginning, he too had fallen under her spell.

‘Mama.’ From the direction of the nursery,
Tommy came running towards them, waving his cap in his hand. ‘Millie says we’re going for a carriage ride.’

‘That’s right, ducks,’ Daisy said, wrapping her cape around her shoulders with a flourish. ‘We’re off to make our fortune. Come along, Eliza. If you stand there with your mouth open, you’ll be catching flies.’

Outside in the cold, Davy was standing beside a hackney carriage talking to the driver. He handed Daisy in and then lifted Tommy off his feet, tossing him onto the seat and making him laugh. He held his hand out to Eliza. ‘Jump in, ducks. I’m coming with you.’

‘No, Davy,’ Eliza said, climbing nimbly into the carriage without his help. ‘Ta, all the same but we’ve got to do this on our own.’

Davy held the door open, putting his foot on the step. ‘I’ll come with you, Liza. You didn’t really mean what you said the other day, did you?’

Eliza leaned forward. ‘Listen to me, Davy. You’ve got to let me go. I’m your friend and always will be, but I don’t love you.’

‘You’re just saying that.’

‘You know me better, I think. I told you before, Davy. You are my dearest friend but I love Freddie, and have done for a long time. You only think you love me and that makes you blind to the person who really does care for you.’

Davy’s face took on a mulish look. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’

‘You know very well that I’m speaking the truth. The girl what loves you is not a million miles away from here. And you know very well who I mean.’ As Davy stepped down from the cab, Eliza leaned out of the window. ‘Pennington Street please, cabby.’

Despite his protests that Mr Aaron Miller was busy and would not see them, Daisy sailed past the clerk in the outer office towing Tommy by the hand. Eliza followed them, murmuring an apology to the bemused scribe.

‘Where is his office?’ Daisy demanded, striding along the corridor and peering at the nameplates. ‘Brandon Miller – is that the whoring son?’

Eliza nodded, wishing that Daisy would keep her voice down. She could hear someone moving about in Brandon’s office and she hurried on, leading the way to Aaron’s inner sanctum. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but Daisy grabbed the handle. ‘Manners is out of the window in this case,’ she said, thrusting the door open and pushing Tommy in first.

There was nothing Eliza could do but follow her into the room. She tried to close the door but Brandon had come from his office, and he barged
in before she could stop him. Aaron rose to his feet, staring at Daisy with a puzzled frown that struck Eliza as being almost comical. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he roared. ‘Who is this woman? And what is she doing here?’ He pointed at Eliza, his frown deepening into a scowl. ‘I told you to keep away from me. Brandon, send for a constable.’

‘Yes, send for a constable,’ Daisy said, picking Tommy up and sitting him on the desk in front of Aaron. ‘Send for a reporter from the newspaper too. This is a story that will interest the public, I’m sure.’

Brandon grabbed Eliza by the arm. ‘What shall I do, Father? Call the constable, or have them thrown out?’

‘Throw us out, sonny,’ Daisy said, turning on him with a scornful smile. ‘Toss your little nephew and his mama out on the street and see where it gets you.’

Brandon’s face paled and he turned to Aaron with a look of disbelief. ‘Nephew? What is she saying, Father?’

Aaron slammed his hand down on the desk, sending a sheaf of papers fluttering onto the floor. ‘Stop this nonsense, woman. If you have something to say, then say it and get out.’

With a suggestive wiggle of her hips, Daisy threw off her cape. ‘I’ll have me say, Mr Miller. And it’s this. My Tommy’s father was your
son, Bartholomew Bragg. This boy is your grandson.’

The silence that followed this statement seemed to ring in Eliza’s ears. There was a cathedral-like hush in the office. She felt Brandon’s body tense as he stood close to her.

Aaron stared at Daisy as if she had suddenly sprouted two heads. He looked, Eliza thought with some satisfaction, as though someone had hit him with a mallet. She saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the edge of his desk. He was breathing heavily and beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead. ‘You lying bitch. Don’t you dare try to blackmail Aaron Miller.’

Daisy fished inside her purse and brought out a rather tattered sheet of paper, which she tossed onto the desk in front of him. ‘There’s me marriage lines, Mr Miller. Or should I call you Father-in-law?’

‘That’s enough of this nonsense,’ Brandon said angrily. ‘Let me call a constable, Father. The woman is obviously a trickster hired by Eliza to embarrass us.’

‘Wait!’ Aaron held up his hand.

Eliza made a move towards Tommy, whose bottom lip was quivering ominously, but Brandon caught her by the arm. ‘Keep out of this. You’ve done enough harm already. Just say the word, Father, and I’ll throw them out myself.’

‘No!’ Aaron stared hard at Tommy, and then he laid his hand tentatively on his shoulder. ‘Don’t cry, boy. This is not your fault.’ He glowered at Daisy over the top of Tommy’s head. ‘But I do blame you, madam. I blame you for bringing the child here, and using him as a pawn in your deceitful game. What do you want? How much do you want?’

‘Father, you’re not going to stoop to pay off a blackmailer?’

Eliza wrenched her arm free, glaring up at Brandon. ‘It’s not blackmail, Brandon. What Daisy says is true and if you need further proof, then the court record will show that your father sued for custody of my brother, Bart. He claimed paternity but my mother denied it. Ask him yourself.’

‘Father?’

Aaron bowed his head. ‘It’s true. Bart was your half-brother, Brandon. I knew that he was my son but I couldn’t prove it in court. Lucy loved me, but she was in awe of that old tyrant, Harry Henderson, who had threatened to ruin me. She lied to protect me and she sacrificed herself by marrying that common oaf of a waterman. But it all happened long before I met and married your mother. She knows nothing of this.’

‘Not yet, she don’t,’ Daisy said, smirking. ‘But if you don’t acknowledge my Tommy and give him what is his by rights, then the whole
world will know what sort of a man you really are.’

‘And you, Eliza?’ Aaron walked slowly round his desk as though he were wading through deep water. ‘What do you want of me?’

‘Nothing. I don’t want nothing from you.’

‘Not even the return of your little shop on the corner?’

‘It were never mine in the first place. You knew that, didn’t you?’

‘Of course, but I felt I owed it to Lucy’s memory to try to look after you. And how did you repay me? By treachery and embezzlement.’

‘That’s just not true.’ Eliza stamped her foot. ‘Your son made that up. I never had the money to buy stock. Ask him. Make him tell you the truth.’

‘Shut up, Eliza,’ Brandon said between clenched teeth. ‘He knows what sort of girl you are now. Don’t make things worse.’

‘What does it matter?’ Daisy demanded. ‘We’re here to settle the business of my son. Not to drag Eliza into it.’

Aaron held up his hand. ‘I don’t want to listen to this. Be quiet all of you.’ He came to a halt in front of Tommy and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Don’t snivel, boy. Wipe your eyes and let me look at you.’

‘You be nice to Mama and Aunt Eliza,’ Tommy
said, blowing his nose. ‘I won’t have you shouting at them, old man.’

Aaron stared at him for a moment and then he threw back his head and laughed. ‘You’re a Miller all right, son.’ He ruffled Tommy’s hair, declining the return of his hanky. He turned to Daisy and his smile faded. ‘I will acknowledge Tommy as my grandson, but don’t mistake me for a soft-hearted fool. I’ll make you a small allowance, and I’ll set up a trust fund for the boy, on the condition that you keep this whole sorry story from my wife.’

Daisy shrugged her shoulders. ‘Suits me fine. And I wants a house of me own and the chandlery.’

‘The chandlery is out of the question,’ Brandon said, pushing past Eliza. ‘You gave that to me, Father. Tell her so.’

‘I think you have enough here to keep you occupied, Brandon.’ Aaron perched on the corner of his desk, next to Tommy. Taking a gold case from his breast pocket he selected a cigar, rolling it between his fingers and sniffing the tobacco with an appreciative smile. ‘The boy will inherit the chandlery when he is twenty-one. Until then I think perhaps his aunt should manage the store.’ Aaron cast a mocking glance in Eliza’s direction. ‘How do you fancy working for your own nephew, Eliza? That should make a dent in your pride.’

Eliza held her head high, saying nothing. What was there to say? Bart would have wanted his son to have the business and she could not, in all conscience, object to being designated guardian of Tommy’s inheritance. At least she would be able to stop being dependent on Freddie. There was a small room at the back of the rebuilt shop that would serve as living quarters. She could make herself quite comfortable there. Couldn’t she?

Aaron clipped the end off the cigar with a small silver instrument, pierced the tip and, taking a vesta from a box on his desk, he struck it, warmed the cigar briefly in its flame and lit it, taking in a mouthful of smoke and exhaling it with a satisfied sigh. Tommy watched this ritual with his mouth open and his eyes round with wonder. Eliza was tempted to push the fat cigar down Aaron’s throat and was immediately ashamed of her violent reaction.

Daisy sniffed the smoke like a hound getting the scent of a fox. ‘You ain’t got one to spare, have you, dearie?’

‘Certainly not. I don’t approve of women smoking.’ Aaron blew a plume of blue smoke into the air above her head.

‘Let’s go, Daisy,’ Eliza said, jerking her head in the direction of the door. She could see that Brandon was getting restive, clenching and
unclenching his hands as if he wanted to do someone actual bodily harm.

‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.’ Brandon strode to the door, flinging it open so that it crashed back against the wainscoting.

‘Hold on, dear.’ Daisy flashed him a saucy smile and a wink. ‘I ain’t finished yet.’ She turned to Aaron, her smile fading. ‘So far so good. Tommy gets the chandlery. Now what about my house?’

With the cigar clamped between his teeth, Aaron managed a wolfish grin. ‘That’s easy. The house in Bird Street belonged to that old scoundrel, Enoch Bragg. It’s yours until the boy reaches his majority. Then he can do what he likes with it.’

Daisy frowned. ‘Is it a nice property in a respectable street?’

Aaron’s grin widened until Eliza thought that his face would split in two. ‘It will suit you perfectly.’

‘But, Father …’ Brandon began and then stopped, biting his lip.

‘Go now,’ Aaron said, returning to his seat behind the desk. ‘Our business is concluded.’

‘I need to know how much my allowance will be,’ Daisy said, lifting Tommy off the desk and setting him down on the floor. ‘I have to support and educate the boy.’

‘Don’t try my patience. You’ve got the house
and the chandlery.’ Aaron waved his cigar in Eliza’s direction. ‘And she knows how to run it. It’s up to Eliza to supplement your income. Now get out.’

‘Come, Thomas,’ Daisy said, tossing her head and taking him by the hand. ‘We’ll leave your bad-tempered old grandpa to smoke his weed in peace. But you ain’t heard the last of us, Mr Miller. Come, Eliza.’

‘Get out and don’t come back,’ Brandon hissed, holding the door open.

Eliza met his eyes with an unwavering stare. ‘Give me the keys to the chandlery first.’

He closed the door with a thud. ‘Come to my office.’

Daisy gave Tommy a push towards Eliza. ‘Go with Eliza, ducks,’ she said and, tucking her hand through Brandon’s arm, she flashed him an arch smile. ‘Brandon, dear, we don’t have to be enemies, do we? After all, we’re family now.’