The Orphan's Dream (2 page)

‘You were a silly child,' she said out loud, taking a seat at the dressing table. Her reflection smiled back at her as she shook the pins from her long dark hair, so that it cascaded around her shoulders in a shining cape, blue-black as the coal brought upriver by the Thames barges. Her smile faded and she frowned. What right had she to be discontented with her lot when there were people barely a stone's throw away who were literally starving to death? The gaunt faces and wasted limbs of those who queued for food in the soup kitchen would haunt her dreams tonight. The bowls of thin broth provided just enough nourishment to keep them from starvation, but some of the unfortunates Mirabel had seen earlier that day must surely be hovering on the edge of disaster, especially the children. She could still smell the stench of unwashed bodies which were tortured by parasites and scarred by skin diseases. She shuddered, twisting her hair into a chignon at the back of her neck and securing it in a net. Compared to the standards of the poor, who lived and died on the streets, she had no cause to complain.

She was about to get up when someone tapped on the door. ‘Yes, who is it?'

Flossie burst into the room, her round face flushed and her pale blue eyes shining with excitement. ‘You're to come downstairs immediately, miss. The master says so.'

‘I'll be down in a minute.' Mirabel was used to Flossie's wild flights of fancy and over-dramatic behaviour.

‘No, miss. Please come now. I'll be in for it if you don't.'

Mirabel shot her a curious glance. ‘What's the matter? Why so urgent? I didn't even know that my father was at home.'

‘He just arrived, miss. He brought . . .' Flossie hesitated, biting her lip. ‘He brought a guest. You're to come now, please.'

‘Very well.' Mirabel rose from her seat and followed the girl down the stairs to the first floor. She was taken by surprise when Flossie stopped outside the drawing room, which was only used on special occasions, and was about to point out her mistake when the maid's timid knock was answered by Jacob Cutler's curt instruction to enter. Flossie opened the door and stood aside to allow Mirabel to pass, but instead of bowing out like a well-trained servant she hovered in the doorway, gawping at the occupants, open-mouthed.

‘Thank you, Flossie,' Mirabel murmured. ‘That will be all.'

Reluctantly Flossie withdrew, and Jacob jumped up from his seat, greeting his daughter with a beaming smile. ‘My dear, I want you to meet a very special lady.' He held his hand out to the woman who was reclining on the sofa. ‘This is my fiancée, Ernestine Mutton, and these are her two delightful daughters, Charity and Prudence.'

‘It's Moo-ton,' Ernestine said, emphasising the syllables. ‘Moo-ton, Jacob. How many times do I have to tell you?' She tempered the words with a coquettish smile. ‘What are men like? Aren't they all just little boys at heart, needing a good woman to take care of them?' She extended a plump white hand. ‘I hope to be your stepmama very shortly, Mirabel my dear.'

Mirabel stared at her dumbstruck. Harriet Humble's words came back to her with a force that took her breath away. Ernestine Mutton, or however she chose to pronounce her name, was a good twenty years Jacob's junior, plump and brassy, and her lips were suspiciously red, as were her round cheeks.

‘Say something,' Jacob hissed, poking Mirabel in the ribs.

‘Cat got your tongue, dearie?' Ernestine prompted. ‘I daresay she's too overcome with joy to speak, Jake my love.'

Jake! Mirabel turned to her father and was astonished to see that he had not taken offence. In fact he was grinning like an idiot, and it seemed in that instant that a stranger had inhabited her father's body. ‘You are a one, Ernestine my precious,' he said, chuckling.

‘Ma, can we go now?' The elder of the two children, a girl of about fourteen who would undoubtedly grow up to be the image of her mother, spoke in a nasal whining voice that set Mirabel's nerves on edge but seemed to have the reverse effect on Ernestine, who put her arm around her daughter and gave her a hug.

‘I'm sorry, lambkin. I should introduce you to your new sister.'

‘And me, Ma. You're always forgetting me.' The younger child, whom Mirabel judged to be about twelve, nudged her sister in the ribs.

Charity yelped with pain. ‘You little beast.'

Ernestine continued to smile benignly. ‘Now now, my darlings don't be naughty.' She looked up at Mirabel with a steely glint in her grey eyes. ‘Charity is my eldest and Prudence is my baby.'

‘Oh, Ma!' Prudence pouted ominously. ‘Don't say such things. I ain't a baby.'

‘Yes you are,' Charity said spitefully. ‘You are a big baby. Just look at you. Your eyes are full of tears. You're going to cry. You'll do anything to get your own way.' She turned to her mother. ‘Tell her off, Ma. Don't let her make a fuss.'

Jacob cleared his throat. ‘Now now, my dears. Let your mama have a bit of peace, or I'll . . .'

Ernestine released Charity and hauled herself to her feet, her plump bosom heaving above her tight stays. ‘Or you'll what, Jacob? Do you dare to threaten my girls?'

Mirabel waited for her father to explode with rage and tell the awful woman and her equally awful daughters to leave, but he seemed to shrink beneath the force of his fiancée's wrath, and he positively cowered before her. ‘I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean it to sound that way.' He shot a sideways glance at Mirabel. ‘Ring the bell for Flossie. We'll have some refreshments. Whatever my ladies wish for will be granted.'

Mirabel made a move towards the door. ‘I'll go to the kitchen and make sure Cook understands, Pa.' She hurried from the room, unable to stand it any longer.

Cook was hacking at a loaf of bread, cutting it into thick slices that were more suitable for a navvy's dinner than afternoon tea. She glared at Mirabel as if daring her to criticise her efforts. ‘Whatever next?'

‘Have you any jam, Mrs James? I'm sure Pa's guests would appreciate something sweet.'

‘Flossie, take a look in the larder. See if there's any jam left in the pot, and fetch the fruit cake. I put a meat cover over it to keep it away from the blooming mice.' Cook tossed a cloth at Flossie who was staring into space, having gone off in one of her trance-like states. ‘Do you hear me, you stupid girl?'

She came back to reality with a start. ‘Yes, Cook.'

‘That Mutton woman's been here before, Miss Mirabel,' Cook said gloomily. ‘She only comes when you're at the soup kitchen, or if you've gone to market. Seems to me that something ain't right, if you know what I mean.'

‘I'm sure she's a very nice person when you get to know her.' Mirabel tried to sound convincing, but her first impression of Ernestine had not been favourable.

Flossie bounded out of the cupboard like a jack-in-the-box. ‘The cake's gone. Not a crumb left and only one pot of jam.'

Mirabel caught Cook's eye and had the grace to blush. ‘I'm sorry. I forgot to mention that I took the cake for the poor children at the soup kitchen.'

‘Really, Miss Mirabel, whatever next?' Mrs James puffed out her cheeks. ‘You'd see us all starve in order to feed those who ought to do an honest day's work to pay for their vittles like the rest of us.'

‘Not even a crumb left,' Flossie said sadly. ‘I'm partial to a slice of fruit cake.' She handed the jam pot to Cook, receiving a stinging blow round the ear for her pains.

‘If I thought you'd pinched it you'd be in for trouble, my girl.'

‘No, Cook, it weren't me,' Flossie howled. ‘It was her, she said so.'

‘It was indeed, Mrs James. Flossie isn't to blame.'

‘It wouldn't be the first time. That useless creature loves anything sweet.' Cook peered into the jam pot. ‘If you've had your finger round the rim I'll give you what for, Flossie my girl.'

‘Let me help you,' Mirabel said, stepping in quickly. ‘I'll butter the bread if you'll make the tea. Bread and jam will have to do; after all, we weren't prepared for guests.'

‘Guests?' Mrs James dropped the bread knife with a derisive snort. ‘That one will have her feet beneath the table before you can say Jack Robinson. I've met her sort before.'

Cook's words proved to be prophetic. Within a fortnight Jacob and Ernestine were married by special licence in All Hallows Church, which was only a short walk from Catherine Court. The small party arrived back at the house to dine off the cold collation which Cook had laid out in the dining room. Jacob presided over the meal, seated as usual at the head, and Ernestine took Mirabel's former place at the far end of the table. Mirabel was reduced to sitting next to Charity, with Prudence on the opposite side of the table, pulling faces at them both. Wiley had greeted Ernestine with an obsequious bow, bending so low that Mirabel thought he might topple over or snap in two. However, he managed to right himself and offered his congratulations to the happy couple. At the table he hovered between Jacob and Ernestine, pouring the wine and making sure that their glasses were topped up. Jacob's cheeks flushed dark red and Mirabel was alarmed. She was used to her father's variable moods, but she had never seen him in such high spirits, and she was afraid that at any moment he might burst a blood vessel. He kept raising his glass to his bride and the more he drank the more lewd his suggestions became, until Ernestine shot him a warning glance. ‘Remember the children, Jake my dear.'

He choked on a mouthful of cold chicken, gulped and swallowed, washing it down with yet more wine. ‘Of course, my pet. Wiley, fetch another bottle from the cellar.' He stared at Mirabel, frowning. ‘There's no need to look so disapproving, daughter. You should be happy for me. You're acting as if you're at a funeral and not a wedding breakfast. What's the matter with you, girl?'

‘I'm sorry, Pa. I have a headache. May I be excused?'

‘No, you may not.' Ernestine's voice rose to a shriek. ‘It's obvious that you're jealous and your pretty little nose has been put out of joint, but you'd better get over it because that's the way things are from now on.'

Stung by the unfairness of this remark, Mirabel shook her head. ‘I'm not jealous, ma'am. If I thought my pa would be happy with you I'd be overjoyed.'

Ernestine's mouth worked soundlessly and her bosom heaved. ‘You little bitch,' she said angrily. ‘Jake, are you going to allow your daughter to speak to me in such a manner?'

‘You'd slap me for being so cheeky, and I'd deserve it, Ma,' Charity said piously.

‘We wouldn't get away with it so why does she?' Prudence added, smirking.

Wiley hovered over Ernestine with the wine bottle clasped in his hand. ‘More wine, ma'am?'

Ernestine brushed his offer aside, rising angrily to her feet. ‘Are you going to speak to her, Jake, or will you leave it up to me to discipline your daughter?'

He signalled to Wiley. ‘I'll have some more wine.'

‘Don't you think you've had enough, Pa?' Mirabel asked anxiously. She could see the whole matter getting out of hand, fuelled by Wiley's unsubtle attempts to get both his master and his new mistress the worse for drink, although what he hoped to gain by it was anybody's guess. Wiley shot her a menacing glance as he moved swiftly to refill Jacob's glass, but she chose to ignore him.

‘Mind your own business, girl,' Ernestine snapped. ‘If you can't keep a civil tongue in your head, I suggest you leave the table.'

Mirabel pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘I'm going to my room.'

‘No,' Ernestine said sharply. ‘Things are going to be different from now on.' She turned to her husband, eyes narrowed. ‘Tell her, Jacob.'

He downed the wine in his glass in one greedy gulp. ‘This was supposed to be a celebration, my love.'

‘It might have been had you sorted things out with your daughter before we wed. I see I'll have to do it instead.'

‘What haven't you told me?' Mirabel looked from one to the other. Her father lowered his head, staring into his empty glass.

Ernestine leaned back in her chair, a triumphant smile hovering on her painted lips. ‘There have of necessity been changes. You have two younger sisters now, and each of them must have a room of her own. Charity has been given your bedchamber and the schoolroom will be made comfortable for Prudence.'

‘You can't do that,' Mirabel cried angrily. ‘Pa, tell her that it's my room.'

Wiley stood behind his master, folding his hands behind his back. He stood stiffly to attention but his eyes glittered with malice as they rested on Mirabel. She knew that she had made an enemy of him by reporting his drinking habit to her father, even though he had chosen not to discipline his employee.

‘Ernestine is right, my pet.' Jacob slurred the words, and he seemed to have difficulty fixing his gaze on his daughter's face. ‘Quite right. The girls should have rooms of their own.'

‘But what about me?' Mirabel demanded. ‘You can't expect me to sleep with the servants. I won't allow it.'

Ernestine rose to her feet. ‘Won't allow it? Just who do you think you are, miss? I'm the lady of the house now and you'll do as I say. Your things have been moved to the attic, where I'm told you spent many hours as a child, so you'll feel quite at home. That is so, isn't it, Jake, my love?'

DESPITE THE FIERCE
exchange of words that followed, there was nothing Mirabel could do to alter the situation. She slammed out of the dining room and raced upstairs, but Wiley followed her, catching up with her as she tried to gain access to her bedroom. ‘It's locked, miss, and I have the only other key.'s

She spun round to face him, recoiling as she caught a whiff of his sour breath. ‘This has nothing to do with you, Wiley. Give it to me.'