He took off the stopper and held the decanter to his lips, allowing the tawny liquid to slip down his throat. It stung like fire and Edward gasped for breath. But the drink warmed his belly, made him feel in charge of his destiny. He tipped the bottle up again and again until it was almost empty.
‘Fire water!’ He staggered across the room. ‘Hell fire and damnation! Damnation to you, Alice!’ He belched loudly. ‘And to you, Mrs high-and-mighty Mainwaring! Damnation to all gamblers, most of all damnation to John Pendennis. I’ll cheat the lot of you yet.’
He lit a taper from the fire and set light to the edge of the curtains. The flame took hold and roared upwards with a sound like a great gale. Edward laughed. ‘Hell fire!’ He drained the bottle and flung it into the grate. The flame leapt from behind the bars, picking up the dregs of brandy, and raced towards the carpet.
‘Burn, you bastards! Burn, the whole damned lot of you!’ He staggered from the room and, clinging to the banister, staggered up the stairs. He left the door of the bedroom open and flung himself onto the bed, seeing, with fascination, the flickering glow of fire from the hallway dance on the ceiling and walls.
The large quantity of brandy he had consumed was making his head spin. Spirals of smoke were weaving across the room towards him like hissing snakes. He held up his arms as if to welcome them. If he had to die then it would be by his own hand. Edward Sparks would show them all just what he was made of. He would never rot in a stinking jail. He would not allow himself to be humiliated by men no better than himself. This house was his and it was fitting it should burn to the ground rather than belong to someone else.
He began to cough as the smoke became thicker. He breathed it in and felt it sear his lungs. A great darkness was coming to close him in and he welcomed it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The doctor had just left and Alice was lying against her pillows, her hair dishevelled, her face pale, but then the doctor had bled Alice quite copiously, a practice that Rosie would have declined had she been the patient. She had remained in the room throughout the examination; she had heard the doctor tell Alice that she had an inflamed stomach. Privately, she thought the doctor was making light of Alice’s condition.
‘I’m sure it’s worse than he’s telling me.’ Alice’s words reflected Rosie’s own thoughts. She propped herself up on the pillows and Rosie hastened to help her. ‘I feel so ill.’
‘Try not to worry,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s only a little over a week since you buried your father remember, you are bound to be unsettled.’
Alice looked up at her a little sheepishly. ‘I know, I suppose I’m already putting father out of my mind. I’m so selfish, aren’t I?’
‘Of course not!’ Rosie protested. ‘You just are at a low ebb right now.’
Rosie was adjusting the bedcovers when one of the maids knocked on the door and peered inside. ‘Please, madam, there’s a message for you.’
Alice looked up at her. ‘All right then, come in, girl, and give it to me.’
The maid handed her a letter and stepped back as though frightened of Alice’s reaction.
‘Oh my God!’ Alice looked up at Rosie. ‘He’s dead, Edward is dead.’
‘He can’t be!’ It was a stupid thing to say. Rosie took the letter and read it herself and she shook her head.
‘How awful, to die in a fire like that!’
‘There’s a big spread about it in the newspaper, madam,’ the maid ventured and Rosie waved her away impatiently. ‘Not now, Sadie!’
‘Bring it.’ Alice’s tone was curt. ‘I want to see what they say about him.’
Rosie led the maid to the door and closed it firmly behind her. This was the last thing Alice needed right now.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs . . . er . . . Alice.’ She would never get used to calling Mrs Sparks by her given name, Rosie thought. ‘I would have tried to stop Sadie telling you had I known. You’ve had one awful shock after another, no wonder you feel ill.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Alice said heavily. ‘Edward dying might be the one decent thing he’s ever done in his life. He was a crook and a liar and a mean-spirited man into the bargain.’
‘It’s a shock all the same,’ Rosie said firmly. ‘Shall I cancel your visitors for this afternoon?’
‘No!’ Alice shook her head. ‘I’m not too ill to receive guests for afternoon tea, Rosie. You heard what the doctor said, I’ve got an inflamed stomach not a sore tongue.’
The maid returned with the newspaper and handed it to Alice. ‘Cook says it’s good riddance to him, madam.’
‘Don’t be impertinent!’ Alice flapped her hand impatiently and the girl almost ran to the door. Alice smoothed out the creases of the paper and began to read.
‘Says here he drank himself to death and set fire to the house accidentally.’ Alice’s slim finger pointed to the page. ‘Oh dear, I knew Edward was in trouble with the bank but it seems my husband mounted up heavy gambling debts into the bargain. Doesn’t sound at all like the Edward I knew.’
‘They do exaggerate things though, don’t they?’ Rosie plumped up the pillows. ‘Rest now and you’ll be nice and fresh in time for tea.’
Alice flung down the paper. ‘It’s all so much rubbish!’ She rubbed her face wearily. ‘Stay for a while, talk to me, you are the only one who cares about me at all. You won’t leave me, will you, Rosie?’
‘No of course I won’t,’ Rosie said stoutly. ‘But please, try to sleep a little. I’m sure you’ll feel better after a rest.’
It was as if Alice had not heard her. ‘Edward would have been heir to my father’s money by law, you know,’ Alice said. ‘My father tied it all up as best he could but, eventually, the entire estate would have gone to my husband. Good thing he didn’t find that out before he . . . well.’ She smiled wryly. ‘If he’d known he was rich, he would never have died, I’m convinced of that.’
Rosie did not comment; she was not familiar with the law regarding such things. She would never possess wealth to any great degree so had never been interested in women’s rights.
Women had a place in the home, bringing up children, while the man went out to work. The right to rule over her own house was all a woman should want. Still, on reflection, perhaps it was wrong that the law gave a man the right to take his wife’s inheritance.
Alice sighed. ‘Had I given birth to a healthy son things might have been different. Father might have been able to leave his estate to his only male heir.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it’s my money now and I can do as I like with it.’
Rosie could see that the thought gave Alice a great deal of satisfaction. She need never be dependent on any man for as long as she lived.
Rosie knew her own position in life was vastly different to Alice’s. Rosie would always have to work or else be kept by a man. Life could be so unfair sometimes.
It was as if Alice had read her thoughts. ‘I am going to put some money in trust for you, Rosie,’ she said. ‘I want to repay you for all the kindness you showed me when I had nothing but debts hanging around my neck.’
‘But . . .’ Rosie was about to protest and Alice held up her hand for silence. She smiled; her spirits seemed to have revived. ‘Don’t argue, it’s something I want to do. I know you and Watt haven’t exactly seen eye to eye and I don’t want you to be dependent on him.’
She hesitated. ‘I haven’t been a very nice person to live with, I know that, Rosie. I’ve been selfish and high-handed. My father reared me to despise the lower orders but knowing you changed all that.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘And being Edward’s wife has made me realize what it’s like to live a joyless, friendless life. Now stop going on at me to rest. Get me out of this bed and help me dress. I’m expecting an admirer to come calling, remember?’
Later, when Alice was satisfied with her appearance, Rosie helped her down the curving staircase and settled her in front of the fire in the drawing room.
‘Just in time, Rosie.’ Alice smiled as the front doorbell clanged, the sound echoing through the house. Rosie instinctively got to her feet. Alice waved her back into her chair.
‘You are not a servant now, Rosie, you are my companion, my chaperone.’ She giggled. ‘That’s rich, isn’t it, me who enjoyed all the sins of the flesh, having a chaperone. I’d say it’s just a little too late for that. But stay when my visitors arrive, won’t you? I like to appear to be a lady even if I’m a whore at heart.’
‘You must not be too hard on yourself,’ Rosie protested. ‘You make yourself out to be a bad person but really, deep down, you are just like the rest of us, looking for love.’
‘You understand me so well.’ Alice sighed. For a moment her face fell into lines of sadness. It was at such times that Rosie saw the real woman behind the laughing, flirtatious façade Alice presented to the world.
The door opened and suddenly the room seemed full of people. Rosie felt uncomfortable as the two gentlemen and their ladies seated themselves around the room, all of them ignoring Rosie in her drab calico gown and worn shawl.
Rosie recognized Lily though she was wearing fine clothes. She was the painter who had worked at the pottery with Rosie’s mother. Now she was clinging to the arm of an old man who was making every effort to untangle himself.
‘Matthew, how nice to see you!’ Alice was graciousness itself. No-one would suspect she had just risen from her sick bed. ‘And Jem Boucher too! You are most welcome.’ She paused. The pause lengthened. Rosie hid a smile; Alice could insult without opening her mouth. She was deliberately sizing up the two women, making it obvious she felt their social superior.
‘And your,’ she paused again, ‘your ladies are welcome too. I will ring for some refreshments, you will take tea with me and my companion here?’
It seemed to Rosie that hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at her, seeing her in a new light. Lily’s face was hostile; she had never liked Rosie’s mother and no doubt Lily was uncomfortable in Rosie’s presence, Rosie knew far too much about her past.
Alice was quite aware of the situation and not prepared to let matters rest. ‘Ah, Lily, you used to work at the pottery, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘And then for a time you came to me as a maid. Not a very good maid at that.’ She giggled. ‘Perhaps being mistress to a rich man suits you better?’
Lily stiffened. Her thoughts were written plain on her face: she had realized she was foolish to come here, to put herself in such a vulnerable position. Her friend leapt to her defence.
‘Lily is a fine painter,’ Polly said. ‘She’s even had drawings in some of the better papers.’
‘I know,’ Alice said. ‘I believe I was the subject of one such drawing. Do you enjoy ruining reputations, Lily?’
Rosie concealed a smile; Alice was at her best when she was fencing spiteful words with an adversary she did not like.
‘At least I am not tied to a man who should be in prison,’ Lily said huffily.
‘Neither am I.’ Alice’s tone was touched with ice. ‘It might have escaped your notice but my husband is dead, consumed by flames, hell’s flames in your opinion I take it? I thought the British judiciary deemed a man innocent until proven guilty.’
Lily had the grace to blush. Her remark had been tasteless in the extreme. It was Matthew Starky who filled the sudden silence.
‘I’m so sorry about your sad loss. Your husband’s death so soon after the demise of your dear father must have hit you hard.’ He took Alice’s hand. ‘I’m sure we are all here to offer our deepest sympathy.’ He glared at Lily and she looked quickly away. Even Rosie could see that Lily’s days as a rich man’s darling were almost over.
Tea was served and Rosie settled herself in a corner seat, prepared to watch and listen. She had no intention of becoming part of the conversation; she was out of her depth with such people and knew it.
Rosie observed that the attention Matthew was paying to Alice was more than just friendly. He seemed genuinely interested in her but then, as Alice caustically put it, her inheritance would excite any man.
Alice flirted outrageously with Matthew, enjoying Lily’s dark glances. Alice had rouged her cheeks to give herself some colour and, animated as she was now, she was very beautiful.
Lily fidgeted; the girl was edgy, clearly aware that her hold on Matthew was wearing very thin. He had his sights set on a fresh conquest and she did not like it one bit.
It was growing dark by the time the visitors left. Alice sighed with relief and kicked her shoes off her feet, stretching her toes towards the cheerful fire.
‘Thank the good Lord for that!’ she said. ‘Did you see how that old goat Matthew was making eyes at me? He’s got more chance of winning you over than me and that’s saying something!’
‘You don’t like him then?’ Rosie asked. ‘I thought he was rather nice.’
‘He is nice.’ Alice chuckled. ‘But I don’t intend to marry him or anyone else. Why should I give my father’s fortune to any man? No, I’ll content myself with a lover or two, there will be no marriage for me. Would you marry again if you had your time over?’
‘Not to Watt, not as soon as I did, anyway. It was all a terrible mistake. I do love Watt but I’m not happy to always walk in the shadow of his first love.’
‘I’ve got something to confess.’ Alice looked across at Rosie. ‘I should have told you before, a letter came for you, from your husband.’
‘From Watt?’
‘Yes, from Watt. I read it.’
Rosie did not know if she felt amused or angry at Alice’s interference. ‘Did you answer it as well?’
‘I didn’t go that far.’ Alice pointed to the small table near the window. ‘It’s over there. You must answer it as you see fit.’
Rosie picked up the letter, her hands shaking. ‘Will you excuse me, Alice?’ she said quietly. Alice nodded.
‘If I must.’
Rosie took the letter up to her room and sank onto the bed as she smoothed the crackling page flat. Watt’s writing seemed to spring up at her; his signature was a bold flourish. Watt was an educated man, he had been brought up with Llinos Mainwaring and had probably learned a great deal from her.