Tilly True (31 page)

Slapping Francis on the shoulder, Barney grinned. ‘There, you see, Frank, it will work out well for everyone. Now, I won't have any arguments, we're going out to celebrate. After all, this is still our wedding day.'

The day that had begun so well was beginning to turn into a nightmare for Tilly. Even the choice of venue for the wedding breakfast caused an argument between the brothers. Barney, who seemed to know every pub and tavern in London, wanted to take a cab to the Old Cheshire Cheese in Wine Office Court, off Fleet Street, where he said he was well known and he had a craving for their famous rump steak pudding, but Francis refused to consider eating in a public house. In the end they found a chophouse within walking distance; Barney ordered steak, kidney and oyster pudding for them all and a couple of bottles of claret. Tilly picked at her food, her appetite having deserted her, but she drank three glasses of wine, much to the amusement of Barney, who kept refilling her glass even though Francis patently disapproved. By the time they had rounded off the meal with gooseberry tart and custard, Tilly was feeling slightly sick and Harriet insisted that they should go home immediately. Stone-faced, Francis hailed a hackney carriage and they returned to Bunbury Fields with Tilly leaning tipsily against Barney singing a refrain from
The Yeomen of the Guard
.

‘Tell her to be quiet,' Francis hissed, as he unlocked the front door. ‘She'll disturb the neighbours.'

‘Don't worry, Frank,' Barney said, lifting Tilly off her feet and carrying her up the stone steps and into the house. ‘I'll look after my wife. Just point me to her room, Hattie.'

Hurrying ahead of them, Harriet opened the door to the boxroom where Tilly had slept when she was their maid. ‘Best let her sleep it off, Barney. She's had quite a day of it.'

‘I'm fine, really, I'm fine,' Tilly said, lifting her head off Barney's shoulder. ‘Put me down, Barney.'

‘Leave her to me, Hattie.' Winking at his sister, Barney set Tilly down on her feet but kept his arm round her waist.

‘All right, but I'll ask Mrs Henge to make a pot of strong coffee,' Harriet said, backing out of the door.

‘Don't leave me here,' Tilly said, sliding her hands up Barney's uniform jacket. ‘Take me with you.'

‘You know that's not possible, darling girl. We'll have to be patient but I promise you, on my honour, that I'll send for you as soon as I can.'

Tilly giggled. ‘What honour? You're a bounder and a rogue, Captain Palgrave.'

‘And you're a girl after my own heart. Kiss me goodbye, Tilly.'

The claret had gone straight to her head and the ground seemed to be moving beneath her feet. She had only felt like this once, during a trip on the Woolwich Free Ferry, and then she had been sick. She was not going to be sick now, but she did feel extremely reckless, and she wanted him more than she could have believed possible. ‘You can't mean to leave me alone on my wedding night, soldier.'

Bending his head, Barney kissed her long and hard, but Tilly was not going to let him go so easily and she pulled his head down, parting her lips and using her tongue until he responded.

‘You little devil,' Barney said, releasing her mouth with a deep chuckle. ‘We can't make love with my saintly brother and virgin sister in the next room.'

‘We're married, aren't we?' Tilly backed towards the narrow bed, slowly undoing the buttons on her wedding dress. ‘It ain't legal unless we con-consume it.'

‘Consummate, my love.' Barney shrugged off his jacket. ‘Well, maybe we ought – just to keep things legal. But when you're calling out to God, can you make it sound as if you're saying your prayers? Just for Frank's sake.'

Chapter Fifteen

Tilly awakened next morning in the truckle bed, having spent her wedding night alone. Missing Barney was a physical thing; she felt cold and empty inside, as if her heart had been ripped out of her breast. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine that he was lying beside her in the feather bed at the Savoy, but the reality was a hard flock mattress and a lumpy pillow in a small, dingy room at the back of a shabby lodging house. Vowing that she would not allow herself to cry, Tilly decided that there was no use in feeling sorry for herself and, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she got up and went to the washstand. The water in the jug was cold but it was refreshing. Washing her face and hands, she dried them on a coarse towel that felt like sandpaper on her soft skin. Her life of luxury had been cut cruelly short, but she must put that behind her and concentrate on the present if she were to survive the long parting from her new husband.

Picking up the wilting spray of gardenias, their once snow-white petals bruised and brown, Tilly held it tenderly to her cheek, inhaling the fading fragrance. Was it only yesterday that she had dressed in her bridal finery and left the elegant Savoy Hotel to travel the short distance to the register office? It seemed like months ago, but the memory of lying in Barney's arms, the heat of his kisses and the final soaring climax of their lovemaking was indelibly imprinted in her memory. She dressed with care, selecting one of the plainer white blouses that Barney had bought for her and a pale blue linen skirt, cut in the latest fashion, very full at the back and flat at the front, just grazing the top of her white kid boots. There was no mirror in the room and she brushed her thick, straight hair back from her face, securing it at the nape of her neck with a large satin bow. Now she felt ready to face Hattie and Francis, as she must learn to call her new sister and brother-in-law. Last night, after Barney had left, the atmosphere had seemed strained and unnatural; Tilly could only hope and pray that things would be easier this morning.

Entering the living room without knocking felt strange in itself, and Tilly had to curb the instinct to bob a curtsey to Harriet who was sitting at the round table in the window, sipping tea. Francis sat opposite her with his head buried in a copy of
The Times
.

Setting her teacup down, Hattie smiled. ‘Good morning, sister-in-law. Did you sleep well?'

Francis rattled the newspaper and harrumphed.

Pulling a face at the newspaper shield, Hattie smiled as if to say don't mind him, and motioned Tilly to join them. ‘Come and have some breakfast, Tilly.'

‘Thank you.' With difficulty, Tilly just stopped herself from adding ‘Miss Hattie', and glancing nervously at Francis, hiding behind the newspaper, she took a seat at the table. Suddenly she had to speak out. She cleared her throat. ‘I realise that this is difficult for you both but it's even harder for me. It ain't – I mean, it's not easy for me to make the jump from being your servant to being your sister-in-law.'

‘Oh, really, no! You mustn't feel like that, Tilly.' Harriet's smooth brow creased into a frown. ‘We haven't given it a thought, have we, Francis?'

Francis lowered the paper. ‘Don't be ridiculous, Harriet. Of course it's difficult. Barney has put us all in a confoundedly awkward situation.'

At least he was being honest and Tilly could not blame him for that; she gave him a straight look, lifting her chin. ‘I understand. I'll leave this morning so that you won't be embarrassed by my presence.'

Harriet's hand flew to her mouth. ‘No, you must not. Francis didn't mean it.'

‘Yes, he did. And I don't blame him for it. I know you're a class or two above me and I don't fit in here.'

Francis folded the paper with irritable, jerking movements. ‘Then why did you marry my brother?'

‘I love him.'

‘Francis, you're being terribly unfair.' Harriet's lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. ‘How can you be so beastly to Tilly? If Barney loves her, then we should love her too. You preach Christian charity and love and yet you fail to practise your own dogma. For shame on you.'

‘It's all right, Hattie.' Refusing the cup of tea that Harriet was offering her, Tilly got to her feet. ‘I know where I'm not wanted.'

‘I'm sorry, Tilly.' Francis cleared his throat noisily, a dull flush rising to his pale cheeks. ‘Harriet is right. Of course you must stay, at least until we get our passage to India.'

‘But that's the answer.' Harriet's thoughtful expression changed into a beaming smile. ‘Oh, do sit down, please, Tilly. I've had the most marvellous idea.'

Reluctantly, but also with a feeling of relief, Tilly sat down.

‘Don't look at me like that, Francis,' Hattie said, wagging her finger at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ‘I do sometimes have a good idea. I shall need a chaperone and companion on the sea voyage to India, and even when we get there I'll need someone to go out with me when you are busy teaching. Who better than my own sister-in-law?'

‘Me, a chaperone?' Noting the stunned expression on Francis's face, Tilly couldn't help wondering which one of them was the more startled by the idea that she would make a suitable chaperone.

‘Well.' Francis gulped and swallowed, nodding his head slowly. ‘It's certainly a thought to bear in mind.'

‘And,' Harriet continued, smiling happily, ‘Tilly will be much nearer to Barney and already in the country when he sends for her.'

‘India is a big place.' Francis did not look convinced.

‘Oh, Francis, don't be difficult.' With a merry chuckle, Harriet wrinkled her nose at him. ‘We must start making plans now, Tilly. We need to make a list of all the clothes we'll need for such a hot climate.'

‘My dear Harriet, I'm not made of money,' Francis protested. ‘Don't forget that we lost everything in that dreadful fire.'

‘Then I shall have to write to Dolph and tell him that you are taking me to a foreign country with barely a rag to wear.'

‘I'm going to teach in a missionary school. You won't be attending many social functions or balls at Government House.'

‘Then I'll end up an old maid,' Harriet said, pouting. ‘You'll be saddled with me for the rest of your life, Francis. See how you like that.'

Sensing that the argument was about to escalate into a pitched battle, Tilly cleared her throat simply to attract their attention. ‘If I might make a suggestion, Barney left me with a little money. Hattie and me could go to the market in Petticoat Lane; they sell real good stuff there. You'd never know the clothes was second-hand.'

If she had suggested that his sister should go stark naked, Francis could not have looked more appalled. For a moment, Tilly thought he was going to reprimand her severely, but he seemed to check himself and even managed a tight little smile.

‘I appreciate your offer, but that won't be necessary. All right, Harriet, I'll give you a dress allowance, but I'm warning you: don't overspend or you'll have me to answer to.'

If living with Francis in her role as his sister-in-law was difficult, then Tilly found it was the reverse with Harriet, who openly and sincerely revelled in their new relationship. Strangely enough, it was Mrs Henge who proved to be the most obdurate in her refusal to acknowledge Tilly's new status, refusing to call her madam or Mrs Palgrave. If Tilly attempted to pass on an order for breakfast or dinner, Mrs Henge would be temporarily afflicted with deafness, a condition that did not resolve until Harriet ventured down to the kitchen to repeat the request. When Tilly attempted to have it out with her, the dragon-woman adopted a sullen, set face and a stubborn silence.

Francis remained polite but aloof and Tilly always had the uncomfortable feeling that, beneath his rigid mask of self-control, he was inwardly seething with anger at both herself and Barney for putting him in this position. Sometimes she found herself also blaming Barney for leaving her so abruptly and without any means of support. He had left her with two golden sovereigns, explaining that it was all the money he had on him and Tilly had been angry, accusing him of extravagance and over-tipping at the hotel. Barney had silenced her with a kiss, promising to make arrangements for her to receive an army wife's allotment; it had not come yet, but Tilly trusted him. Of course she did, or that is what she kept telling herself. It was Francis who kept reminding her pointedly that she had not contributed to the housekeeping.

It was now Tilly's single-minded ambition to join her husband in India. When Harriet was otherwise engaged, Tilly often walked from Shoreditch to the Guildhall Library and reading room, where she devoured all the literature she could find on the magic, mystic land of her dreams.

As soon as Harriet received her allowance from Francis, she was determined to spend every penny on the new clothes necessary for a hot climate and it did not take much persuasion to coax Tilly to accompany her on her first shopping trip. They decided against the cost of a hansom cab and walked to Broad Street where they caught the white Brompton omnibus that took them as far as Piccadilly. They walked up Regent Street, making their first stop at Mr Liberty's emporium and spent half an hour wandering round the East India department, fingering the exotic prints and silks. Harriet would no doubt have spent every last penny there, but Tilly managed to persuade her to hold on to her money until they had visited the other big stores. After all, she had the advantage of having recently been shopping with Barney and that gave her a distinct edge on Harriet. Eventually they worked their way from Marshall and Snelgrove, John Lewis, Dickins and Jones, Swan and Edgar to D H Evans. Faced with such a splendid array of gowns, undergarments, hats, gloves and shoes, not to mention bolts of chiffon, lace and slipper satin, Harriet seemed to lose every scrap of common sense and would have gone into a shopping frenzy if Tilly had not been there to guide and calm her down. For the first time, as the money began to change hands at an alarming rate, she could see a likeness between Harriet and Barney. Tilly's hard-nosed East End thrift was sorely tried by Harriet's seeming inability to say no or to add up pounds, shillings and pence. In the end, they staggered back to Piccadilly Circus so laden with parcels and bandboxes that it was difficult to climb the steps on to the omnibus.