Authors: Dilly Court
‘Come along, Phoebe,’ Judy said impatiently. ‘Let’s get the infant home before he wakes up and starts bawling again. I really can’t stand the noise.’
‘I’m coming.’ Phoebe pulled her cloak around the baby and headed out into the snow, but during the short carriage ride home her mind was occupied with thoughts of the immediate future. She could stay on in Brighton for a few weeks yet, but then she would have to return to Saffron Hill and open up the house before the family’s return from Italy. It would be hard to leave her friends, especially Rose. She had grown fond of Cousin Judy despite her irascible temperament and thrifty, not to say stingy, ways. And then there was Caspar. He would not be best pleased when she told him that she would be leaving his employ. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as Edward opened his blue eyes and began to whimper. He had, she thought with a sudden sense of panic,
Ned
Paxman’s eyes. Both he and his brother Rogue had eyes the colour of the sea that changed according to their mood. Sometimes they were bright blue like the sky and at others green like the trough of a wave or moody grey like the ocean on a stormy day. The Giamattis, including herself, were all dark-haired and dark-eyed. Edward’s eyes would always give him away.
‘We’re here,’ Marcus said, leaning over to open the carriage door. ‘We’ll soon have the young man fed and comfortable again.’ He climbed out onto the pavement and helped Judy down first and then Dolly. He held out his arms to take the baby. ‘This is a new experience for an old bachelor like myself,’ he said, smiling as he tucked Edward into the crook of his arm. ‘I think I would have made a good father.’
Phoebe gathered her skirts around her and alighted from the carriage. ‘There’s still time, Marcus. I’ve never been able to understand why a man like you has escaped marriage for so long.’
‘Phoebe, don’t be impertinent.’ Judy shot her a withering glance as she mounted the steps to unlock the front door. ‘Take no notice of her, Marcus.’
Dolly hesitated, screwing her face up as the snow-flakes tickled her nose. She put her head on one side, gazing intently at Marcus. ‘I think you should marry Miss Judy. She’s much nicer when you’re around.’
‘I heard that, you stupid girl.’ Judy poked her head out of the door, scowling. ‘Go and put the kettle on, and see if that lazy trollop has fallen asleep again. I’m still not sure that a woman like her should be taking care of my cousin’s child.’ She whisked into the house
and
Dolly bounded up the steps after her, with Phoebe following close behind Marcus and the baby, who was working up to a crescendo of howling.
‘You mustn’t take any notice of Dolly,’ Phoebe said, leaning all her weight on the door in order to close it as a sudden gust of wind sent a powdering of snow into the entrance hall. ‘She says whatever comes into her head.’
Marcus handed the squalling baby to her. ‘I’m forty-three, and a confirmed bachelor, although sometimes I do regret my unmarried state.’
‘Perhaps it’s time to think again,’ Phoebe said, hitching Edward over her shoulder as she slipped off her damp cloak and hung it on the hallstand. ‘Come into the kitchen and have a cup of tea and a slice of Judy’s seed cake; it’s the best you’ll ever taste.’
‘I’d like to, but I must get back to the theatre. I have a man coming to see me about the play we’re putting on in two weeks’ time.’ Marcus paused, eyeing Phoebe with a worried frown. ‘You didn’t know?’
‘I thought Caspar was booked until the end of February.’
‘In the present circumstances I thought it best not to mention that Caspar and I had a slight difference of opinion. He decided that he wanted to move on sooner than planned.’
Phoebe stared at him in dismay. ‘He didn’t say anything to me.’
Marcus cleared his throat. ‘He probably didn’t want to add to your troubles, my dear. Maybe the man has some human feelings after all.’
The baby had started to cry and Phoebe patted his back in an attempt to soothe him. She had been so involved in caring for him and coping with the grief of her mother’s sudden death that she had given little or no thought to Caspar or his plans for the future. She frowned thoughtfully. ‘It explains why he took the sudden decision to go to London.’
‘He’s an ambitious man, Phoebe, but I’m sure he still wants you to work with him.’
‘I never intended to make it a permanent arrangement, but I was hoping to have work for another few weeks. This has put me in a really difficult position.’
‘I’M SURE WE
can come to some arrangement,’ Marcus said gently. ‘Judy is a good woman and she won’t throw you out just because you can’t pay the rent, and I could find you a few hours’ paid work at the theatre, if that would help.’ He opened the front door. ‘I really must go now. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to make my apologies to Miss Judy.’ He let himself out of the house, but the door had barely closed before it opened again to admit Rose and Fred.
‘Why are you standing here in the cold hallway?’ Rose demanded anxiously. ‘Are you all right, Phoebe?’
‘Yes, thank you, Rose. But Edward is hungry. I’d better go and find the wet nurse. She’s probably fallen asleep again in front of the range. I don’t think she can afford a fire where she lives.’ Phoebe hurried off in the direction of the kitchen, where she found Judy soundly berating the unfortunate woman who had just recently given birth to a baby that had survived for only a few days. ‘What’s the matter?’ Phoebe demanded anxiously.
Judy eyed the squalling baby with distaste. ‘Can’t you shut him up? I can’t hear myself think with that noise.’
‘He’s hungry.’ Phoebe approached the wet nurse, wondering if they had done the right thing by hiring a woman who was so obviously down on her luck.
‘Are
you feeling up to looking after my little brother, Mrs Oakes?’
Judy snatched Edward from Phoebe’s arms and plumped him down on the wet nurse’s lap. ‘Now do what you’re paid for, Ivy Oakes and we’ll say no more about the slice of bread and jam you pilfered from the larder, but it will come out of your wage.’
‘Ta, missis,’ Ivy murmured, undoing her filthy, tattered blouse and exposing an engorged, blue-veined breast. ‘I’m sorry about the grub, but I hadn’t had a bite to eat since yesterday.’
Judy wrinkled her nose and turned away as Edward latched hungrily onto the swollen nipple. ‘You can have a cup of tea when he’s had his fill, Mrs Oakes.’
‘Thank you kindly, ma’am.’
Dolly moved to sit by Ivy’s side. ‘I seen Ma feeding me younger brothers and sisters, but then she put them to the bottle with a teaspoon of gin in it. That made them sleep all right.’
‘That’s enough of that sort of talk,’ Judy said sharply. ‘Give Phoebe a cup of tea with a spoonful of sugar in it, and one for Mrs Oakes, without sugar. I can’t afford to lavish luxuries on the whole of Brighton.’ Taking a hanky from her pocket, she blew her nose loudly. ‘I’ve just buried my cousin. Who, I wonder, will mourn for me when my time comes?’
Fred had been sitting quietly at the table sipping a mug of tea but he looked up at this and his moustache drooped at the corners. ‘We’d all be there, Miss Judy. You’ve got friends and admirers in this town, you ought to know that.’
Judy held her handkerchief to her eyes. ‘I know what they say about me. They call me Miss Vinegar-face in the town, even though they know nothing about my personal circumstances.’
Fred twirled his moustache nervously. ‘You’re a brick, Miss Judy. You never go on about it when I’m late with my rent, and there was a time when you let me work it off by cleaning the windows and scrubbing the front steps.’
‘I haven’t had much to make me smile.’ Judy said, nodding in agreement. ‘Heaven knows, I stayed at home to care for my invalid mother until she died. I’ve had my admirers, but Mamma always put a stop to any gentleman wishing to call on me.’
Dolly frowned thoughtfully. ‘That ain’t fair. I’m sure Mr Marcus would like to come to tea every now and then.’
‘Hush, Dolly.’ Phoebe cast an anxious glance at Judy in case Dolly had gone too far, but she seemed wrapped in her own thoughts.
‘Now my cousin has gone too.’ Judy sighed. ‘I’m all alone in the world.’
Phoebe was sympathetic but she had heard enough. ‘That’s nonsense, Judy. Marcus was just saying what a fine woman you are and how sorry he is that he’s remained a bachelor all these years. If you can’t see that the man is infatuated with you then you’re either blind or stupid. I’ve lost my mum and I loved her.’ A sob rose to her throat and she fled from the room, unable to control the flood of tears that suddenly engulfed her. She ran upstairs to the room she had shared with her
mother
and Dolly and flung herself down on Annie’s empty bed. The pillow still smelt of her mother’s favourite lavender cologne and she closed her eyes tightly, but now she had given way she could not stop crying. She wept for her mother and for her orphaned brother. She wept for her lost youth spent hiding in dark cupboards while her mother conducted mock séances. She wept for the fact that she must leave the people she had come to love as friends and return to an uncertain life in London. She wept for herself, knowing that she must honour her promise to marry Gino, a man she did not love. Perhaps she would never know true love. At least Ma had loved Ned with all her wayward heart, and had given him a son to prove it. Perhaps Ma had been the lucky one.
Caspar was late arriving at the theatre that evening, and, as Phoebe had feared, this put him in a foul mood. Although he was too much of a professional to allow it to spoil their act he was surly when off stage, and if he noticed that she was not quite herself he said nothing that might offer her comfort in a time of deep mourning. She was fast losing patience with him and when he turned on her backstage and berated her for her lacklustre performance she retaliated angrily. ‘How dare you speak to me like that, Caspar? You’re the one who’s to blame if the audience didn’t enjoy themselves as they might have done had you been in a better temper.’
He grasped her by the shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. ‘So the little worm has turned,
has
she? The woman with the countenance of a medieval princess has spirit after all.’
She wrenched free from his painful grip. ‘Don’t mock me. I’ve just buried my mother and I think that’s reason enough for my not being on top form, but you …’ She took a deep breath. ‘You have no excuse, Caspar Collins. Or did the theatre manager in London turn you down? Weren’t you good enough for his seedy palace of varieties?’
For a moment she thought he was going to strike her but it was obvious that he was struggling to maintain his iron self-control, which was normally colder than the blocks of ice that Nonno hauled from the importer’s ice cellars every morning in summer. She met his fierce gaze with a defiant lift of her chin, but to her astonishment instead of berating her he drew her roughly to him and covered her mouth with his in a long, hard kiss that was fraught with passion but without a hint of tender ness. Phoebe could not have been more shocked had he struck her across the face. He released her as suddenly as he had taken her into his arms and he walked away, leaving her staring after him in stunned silence. He had never shown the slightest interest in her as a woman, and she could not begin to imagine what had prompted his actions unless it had been to prove his mastery over her. She rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, but the taste of him seemed indelibly printed on her lips. The hardness of his athletic body against hers had been oddly exciting, if she were to be honest with herself. She pushed the thought to the far recesses of her mind. He had insulted her and
made
it impossible for them to continue working together. She followed him to his dressing room.
When he did not respond to her rap on the door she opened it and stormed into the tiny room, barely larger than a cupboard. He was sitting between racks of props and costumes, staring into the dressing-table mirror. Strewn before him were sticks of greasepaint lying in drifts of face powder and the air was thick with the cloying scent of stage makeup and sweat. He did not turn his head but as she moved closer she could see his face reflected in the mirror. He was watching her warily, his features as still as a marble statue and his eyes diamond cold.
‘How dare you treat me this way?’ The words came out in an explosion of pent-up emotion.
Holding her gaze he remained motionless. She tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you, Caspar. What possessed you to insult me in such a way? Haven’t I worked hard for you these past weeks? I’ve done everything you asked of me and more.’
This time he did turn his head slowly. His expression was carefully controlled. ‘I was rejected by an oaf who calls himself a theatre manager.’ He rose to his feet sweeping the higgledy-piggledy collection of items from the top of the table with his hand. They fell in a colourful heap on the floor and were buried beneath a fine mist of powder. ‘That peasant had the impertinence to call me a conjuror. He hasn’t even seen my act and he dismissed me as if I were a nobody.’
He bowed his head and Phoebe’s anger dissolved
in
a moment of pity. He looked for an instant like a naughty child caught in the act of stealing jam tarts hot from the oven, not for reasons of acute hunger but because the temptation was too great for him. Instinctively she put her arms around him and held him. He laid his head on her shoulder and for a brief moment they clung together like shipwrecked mariners on a lonely atoll without hope of being saved. ‘You mustn’t take it to heart,’ Phoebe said softly. ‘You are a great illusionist but he wasn’t to know that.’
Slowly, as if ashamed of his moment of weakness, Caspar drew away from her, running his hand through his mane of dark hair. ‘I’m sorry, Phoebe. I apologise for my behaviour. It won’t happen again. Now leave me, please. I’ll see you in the morning for rehearsal of a new illusion I want to perfect before we leave this abysmal place. Don’t be late.’
She opened her mouth to tell him that he had made it impossible for her to continue working with him, but somehow she had not the heart to add to his woes. She saw him suddenly not as a tyrant but as a man unused to failure who was, probably for the first time in his life, having to swallow the bitter pill of rejection. She felt nothing but pity for him, and she left the dressing room without saying another word. But there were still big decisions that had to be made, and February was drawing rapidly to a damp and rainy close.