A Mother's Trust (46 page)

There was no doubting his sincerity, but Phoebe could still hear her mother telling her how much she loved Ned Paxman, and their love-child was sleeping in the room at the top of the house. Phoebe had not forgotten that Ned had attempted to gain control of
his
son by forcing her to marry him. His careless actions had started a chain of events that had led to her own personal tragedy, and now he was asking for her forgiveness and her blessing on his forthcoming nuptials to a dear friend. She wanted to hate him, but she felt suddenly drained of all emotion. ‘Come into the front parlour,’ she said, hoping that she sounded calmer than she was feeling. ‘Rose will be home soon.’ She led the way, although it was obvious that he knew the layout of the house as well as she did.

He stood with his back to the fire. ‘It’s all quite proper.’ His lips twitched. ‘I’ve booked into a boarding house nearby.’

Phoebe faced him squarely. ‘Are you laughing at me, Ned?’

He was suddenly serious. ‘No. On my honour, although you probably think I have none. I want you to forgive me, and to believe that I will do everything in my power to make Rose happy.’

‘I think I do,’ she said, sitting down on the chair she had recently vacated. The shock of seeing him again was wearing off a little, but his presence was a painful reminder of what she had lost. ‘How is Rogue?’ She stared down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. ‘Is he well?’

‘He is in the best of health.’

She looked up. ‘Does he ever speak of me?’

He answered with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. ‘He doesn’t confide in me. He never has. We might be brothers but we are as unalike as two men could be who are so closely related.’

‘Does he know that I’m back in England?’

‘I can’t say. I’m no letter writer, although I might have mentioned it when he visited last week. Rose writes every day, bless her.’

‘You saw him last week?’ Phoebe’s heart missed a beat. So Rogue knew that she was home and he had not made any effort to see her. It was hardly surprising but it still hurt.

‘He comes down to the farm every few weeks to go over the books with me,’ Ned carried on, seemingly oblivious to her distress. ‘I’m no bookkeeper either. In fact, as you’ve probably already decided, I’m a fairly useless sort of fellow, but I’ve discovered one talent.’

‘And what’s that?’ Phoebe sensed that he was eager to talk about himself and it was easier to listen than to talk as she struggled with the knowledge that Rogue wanted nothing more to do with her.

‘I’m a good practical farmer. I like working outdoors and I have an affinity with animals.’ He chuckled. ‘You might think I learned that by mixing with the lowest of the low in London, and you’d probably be right. But at the very least I can make a good living for myself and my family, and an honest one too. I never thought I’d hear myself say those words.’ He stopped short at the sound of someone rapping on the door knocker. ‘I’ll go, Phoebe. It might be Rose. I can’t wait to see her again.’

He left the room with the haste of a man desperate to hold the woman he loved in his arms. Phoebe bent her head as she struggled to control her raw emotions. Outside in the hallway she could hear Rose’s excited
cries
followed by Herbert’s deeper tones, and a buzz of conversation as Madame, Gussie and Fred arrived close on their heels. She fumbled in her skirt pocket for a hanky and blew her nose. No one must know that her heart was breaking all over again.

It was a quiet ceremony at the register office with just Phoebe, Rose, Ned, Herbert and Gussie to act as witnesses and support the bride and groom. Madame Galina was on duty in the pub and had been given the task of organising a simple wedding breakfast, and Fred had remained at the house to keep an eye on Judy’s cleaning woman who was supposed to be looking after Teddy. Gussie had warned Phoebe that, when she thought no one was looking, Mrs Wagg had a tendency to take nips from Judy’s bottle of medicinal brandy. Phoebe had been loath to leave her in charge, preferring to look after Teddy herself, but Fred had volunteered to stay behind in order to keep an eye on Mrs Wagg.

When she arrived at the pub Phoebe was dismayed to find him ensconced in a seat by the bar drinking a glass of porter. She hurried over to him. ‘You haven’t left Teddy with Mrs Wagg, have you?’

He gave her a tipsy grin. ‘She’s promised to stay sober, love. Hasn’t touched a drop all afternoon, I saw to that.’

Phoebe remained unconvinced. She nibbled at the food set out on a table in a private room at the rear of the building, and drank a glass of mulled wine to toast the bride and groom, but despite Gussie’s assurance
that
Mrs Wagg was perfectly capable of giving Teddy his tea and putting him to bed, Phoebe continued to worry. It had been difficult enough when Ned turned up soon after breakfast, ostensibly to see Rose, but it was obvious that he had also come to see his son. Teddy had been shy at first but Ned had exhibited a surprising amount of patience when dealing with a small child. He had let Teddy come to him, and Phoebe had grudgingly had to admit that he was good with the boy. There did seem to be a natural bond between father and son, and although it hurt at first, Phoebe knew in her heart that this was where Teddy’s future lay. Rose adored him, and Ned seemed determined to prove that he could be a good husband and father.

Phoebe sat looking at the feast that Madame Galina had laid out for them. There was an array of cold meats, a raised pork pie and a selection of jellies, shimmering and quivering with every slight movement of the slightly rickety table. Madame had obviously gone to a great deal of trouble, not to mention expense, although she had been quick to explain that it was Marcus who had paid for the whole thing. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, except Phoebe. She was even more conscious of being the only one there who was not in some kind of partnership. Madame and Herbert were engrossed in a discussion about their proposed business venture. They hoped to become the proprietors of an ancient coaching inn on the outskirts of the town. It was reputed to have been a haunt of smugglers, but was now respectable, if slightly run down. ‘A good business opportunity’, Herbert was
fond
of saying. ‘We’ll make it the best hostelry in the area.’ Gussie planned to leave her job at the milliner’s shop and was going to help Madame in the kitchen, and Fred was talking about abandoning his window cleaning round to become a potman and ostler. He had decided that his summer occupation of sword swallowing was a profession for younger men, and he was ready to give up the theatre and settle down.

Phoebe had listened to all their hopes and dreams and her heart swelled with pride for her adopted family, but she was still the odd one out. She was painfully aware that she was going to lose Teddy, and although Judy and Marcus had told her that she was welcome to live with them, she did not want to impose on their hospitality. There was, she decided, only one course open to her. She would return to London in the spring. She would endeavour to pick up the threads of her old life. There was always the table tipping, which was still the vogue amongst the middle and upper classes. The séances had provided a steady source of income, and telling the fortunes of young ladies eager to know when, where and whom they were to marry was always popular. She would go back to Saffron Hill, her grandparents and the ice cream trade. It would be a safer place now that the gangs had been broken up or moved on. She would make a life for herself. She would never marry.

Rose came to sit beside her. ‘Are you all right, love? You look sad.’

Faced with Rose’s glowing happiness, Phoebe felt her throat constrict. She made a huge effort to smile.
‘I’m
delighted to see Judy and Marcus so well suited to each other.’

‘But you’re not happy, darling.’

‘I’m just a bit tired. It’s been a long day, and seeing Ned …’

Rose clasped her hand. ‘I know it must seem selfish of me to invite him here, but I want you to get used to seeing us together. Ned is desperate to have Teddy come and live with us when we’re married. I promise you I’ll look after him and love him as if he was my own little boy. You can come and stay with us as often as you like.’ Her eyes brightened. ‘You could live with us, Phoebe. You know how large the house is, and we could be a proper family.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Phoebe said, not wanting to hurt Rose’s feelings by an outright refusal. She did not want to admit that witnessing their happiness would only add to her misery. She did not relish the idea of withering into a vinegar-faced widow with a great void where once she had had a heart. She rose to her feet. ‘I think I should go and check on Teddy. I don’t trust Mrs Wagg to stay sober all evening.’

Rose glanced anxiously at Ned, who was chatting amicably to his future father-in-law. ‘Perhaps we ought to go and leave you to enjoy the party.’

Phoebe bent down to kiss her on the cheek. ‘I’m not really in the mood for all this. You’ll understand that, I’m sure. I’ll slip out and no one will notice. This is Judy’s day and I don’t want to spoil it.’

Ignoring Rose’s protests, Phoebe left the room quietly. She collected her cloak and bonnet and edged
her
way through the crowded taproom, which was filled with tobacco smoke and the babble of men’s voices, interspersed with shouts of laughter. Outside the night air was bitterly cold and the pavements shone with frost. The waves pounded on the pebbles, sucking them out to sea and then spilling them back on the shore in a thunderous clatter. It was a short walk to the house and Phoebe’s cheeks were tingling as she rattled the doorknocker. Her breath plumed about her head in clouds as she waited for Mrs Wagg to admit her.

The door opened. ‘Phoebe. I was hoping it was you.’

She stood frozen to the spot. She could neither move nor speak. The shock had turned her to stone. He was silhouetted in the doorway. His back was to the light, but she would have known him anywhere.

‘Come inside. You look chilled to the marrow.’

Rogue’s hand was warm and his grip firm as he helped her over the threshold. He released her almost immediately but she could still feel the impression of his fingers on hers. She was struck dumb by the unexpected emotion that threatened to choke her. She held her hand to her breast, struggling to regain her breath. She hoped vaguely that he would put her lack of speech down to exertion or the extreme cold.

Closing the door, he turned to her and for the first time she could see his features clearly. His expression was inscrutable. If there had been a glimmer of a smile in his eyes, or the hint of a welcome, she would have fallen into his arms; but there was nothing. She might as well have been looking into the face of a stranger.

‘Let me take your things. You must come and sit by the fire.’ He was so calm, so polite and so practical. He might have been speaking to an aged aunt. Once again his touch sent shivers down her spine. He was standing so close to her that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, but he moved away to hang her cloak and bonnet on the hall stand. Without giving her a second glance he walked towards the kitchen, and like an automaton she followed him.

The warmth from the range enveloped her as she entered the room. She looked around expecting to see Mrs Wagg, but they were alone. She found her voice. ‘Where is Mrs Wagg? She was supposed to be looking after Teddy.’

‘The woman was drunk. I sent her home.’ He went to the range. The kettle was boiling and the teapot was at the ready as if he had been disturbed in the process of making tea. Phoebe pulled up a chair and sat down, resting her elbow on the table. Suddenly she wanted to laugh. A hysterical bubble rose in her throat but she swallowed hard. ‘I never thought to see the leader of the Paxman gang doing something as mundane as making tea.’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded high-pitched and strained.

‘There is no gang now. Didn’t Rose tell you that we’d disbanded it some months ago?’

‘She said something about Ned taking up farming.’

Rogue filled the teapot with boiling water and set the kettle back on the hob. ‘You look as though you could do with a hot drink. What possessed you to walk home alone? Why didn’t you get a cab?’ There was an
angry
edge to his voice that was anything but loverlike.

She raised her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I came to wish the bride and groom well.’

‘But you scarcely know them.’

‘That’s not quite true. I’ve met them both on several occasions since Ned and Rose have been walking out.’

‘And do you think that your brother is in love with Rose? Or will he tire of her as he did my mother?’

Rogue stared at her for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully before he responded. ‘Why so bitter, Phoebe? Don’t you believe that a man can change?’

She knew that she had hurt him even though his expression was guarded, and once again she struggled against the impulse to hold him and kiss away the frown that furrowed his forehead. ‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

He poured the tea, adding milk and a dash of sugar to her cup before handing it to her. It seemed to Phoebe that he was playing for time. She wished that he would fight back. She wanted him to tell her that of course he could change; that he was a different man from the gangster she had known. That he loved her still. Her hand trembled as she took the cup from him and she covered her confusion by sipping the scalding brew. ‘Well,’ she said shakily when he did not answer. ‘Do you think your brother will treat Rose well? Or will he abandon her?’

‘I heard what happened to Gino,’ he said slowly. ‘And that you lost your child. I’m truly sorry.’

She could not look him in the face. ‘It’s in the past. I have to move on.’

‘What will you do now? Will you return to London in the spring?’

The sound of the wedding party arriving home saved her from replying. She rose hastily to her feet, setting the cup down on the table. ‘I must check on Teddy. They’ll wake him up if they don’t stop that noise.’ She did not look back as she hurried from the room. She could not bear to be so close to him and yet feel that they were a hundred miles apart. It seemed a cruel irony that he had chosen to visit the house in the full knowledge that she would be present, but without any intention of making his peace with her. She had sensed his inner anger and it hurt more than she could bear.