Copper Kingdom (19 page)

The room was growing dim and with a sigh, Bea rose and lit the gas lamp that jutted from the wall. She had bribed one of the chambermaids to let her into the room just as she'd done before and she had not been insensitive to the way the girl had looked at her. But by now it had become imperative to speak to Sterling alone.

Her heart seemed to turn over with fear and her hands shook as she arranged the folds of her skirts around her knees, sitting near the window once more, watching for his return.

It had not been difficult to send Bertha on another visit to her sister's house on the docks. Indeed her maid had been all too anxious to accept the unexpected break in routine but now, sitting alone, Bea hoped and prayed that Sterling would not be long for she could scarcely endure the fears and uncertainties that had raged within her ever since the morning she had spoken with Dr Thomas. She must confide in someone and soon.

She closed her eyes for a moment in pain and shame and yet beneath all the tension there was a small glimmer of happiness and hope. If only Sterling would marry her then all would be well. But what if he despised her once he knew the truth?

‘Oh, God.' She covered her face with her hands, she had no one to blame for what had happened but herself, after all it had been none of Sterling's doing, she had seduced him, a woman desperate for affection. And her own description was much kinder than any that other people would apply to her if the truth should come out. She rose to her feet once more and stared through the window. She could see the tall pointing masts of a sailing ship and the lights from the harbour flashing over the water like jewels cast aside.

Sterling was late, what if he did not intend coming back to the hotel tonight? Fear held her in its dark grip and she rested her head against the window, fighting back the tears that threatened to course down her cheeks. What a sorry sight she must be, an unmarried lady bearing within her an illegitimate child. It was so ridiculous as to be absurd; people like her were the subject of music-hall jokes. At last, in resignation, she picked up her gloves and drew them on. She could wait no longer, Bertha would be returning from her sister's house and might even now be pacing the pavement outside the hotel.

Once in the street, she looked along the empty roadway and felt bereft. If only she could see Sterling, tell him of her dilemma, he would surely not allow her to suffer alone? He was young it was true but he had at least some regard for her, if not love, and he was possessed of a man's strength and confidence. God, how she needed that now.

‘Miss Bea, I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting.' Bertha was staring at her anxiously and Bea forced a smile to her stiff lips.

‘You haven't kept me waiting at all, so don't look so worried.'

‘Is the carriage coming to fetch us, Miss?' The young maid was peering at her in concern. ‘You're not looking at all well, there's pale you are.'

‘I'm all right and we'll take the tram home.' Bea realised her tone was abrupt but how could she explain to the maid that she didn't want her father knowing she'd even been in the vicinity of Sterling's hotel? James was not a stupid man and it would not take him long to put two and two together.

She scarcely remembered the journey home, she was numb, lost in her own world of despair where she saw herself cast aside, perhaps sent away to the country in disgrace. She clenched her hands together in her lap but that must not happen, would not, for Sterling would take care of her once he knew about the baby.

It was good to be inside the brightly lit house feeling the warmth and familiarity of her childhood home settling around her. She felt secure here but she knew her feelings were false; once her condition began to show then all her security would vanish.

She became aware of raised voices coming from the direction of her father's study. She could tell that her father was more angry than she had ever known him to be but his words were indistinguishable.

‘Go on back to the kitchen, Bertha.' She drew off her gloves calmly, knowing that the maid wanted nothing more than to stand in the hallway listening. ‘Off with you now, you must be ready for your supper. Tell Mrs Bevan I'd like a coddled egg and perhaps some pears and cream to follow. Hurry along Bertha, don't just stand there staring.'

The maid bobbed a curtsey and reluctantly moved towards the doorway leading down into the kitchen. Bea glanced round her quickly, almost guiltily, before moving towards the study. Her heart was beating absurdly fast, there was a fear low in the pit of her stomach that somehow her father had found out about her condition – was Dr Thomas with him now, perhaps?

But the other voice was young, not ponderous and heavy like that of the old doctor. It was difficult to identify the speaker for the words were spoken low but at last, Bea, hearing a sudden familiar inflection, recognised Rickie's voice.

Her fears subsided. He could know nothing about her and Sterling for the two brothers scarcely spoke to each other. No, he was here on business and even though it was something that was not at all to her father's liking it need not concern her.

She moved away towards the drawing room and stood for a moment staring into the flames of the fire. She had still not accomplished her task of seeing Sterling and yet in some strange way she was relieved for she could still hug her secret to herself for just a little while longer.

Some would no doubt say that she was unfortunate to have conceived a child so early in her love affair. She put her hands up to her cheeks, she still could scarcely believe that it was all happening and yet here she was thinking about making another assignation with Sterling. Was she past shame?

And yet a soft smile upturned the corners of her mouth, her hands slid along the flat planes of her stomach and her features softened; she was carrying a child, hers and Sterling's child, and she could not be altogether unhappy in spite of the circumstances in which she found herself.

The sound of the study door springing open startled her and she moved swiftly towards the hallway. Her father was hurrying up the stairs and once at the top, he turned and looked down at Rickie with as much hate in his face as though he was seeing the devil incarnate.

‘Get out of my house and don't ever let me set eyes on you again or you will be facing the business end of my gun, do you understand?'

That he had failed to notice Bea was patently obvious. He strode along the gallery and went into his bedroom, closing the door with a bang.

‘What on earth has happened?' Bea followed as Rickie made his way outside into the great porch of the building. He turned to look at her and there was such bitterness in his eyes that she drew back in fear.

‘Do you want to hear something funny?' His words fell from his lips like chips of ice. ‘I have learned something that I imagined to be of great importance and yet no one, God damn it no one, takes any notice of me.' He rubbed his hair back from his face and he seemed distraught.

‘Rickie, what is it, you look so strange?' Bea reached out a tentative hand but he seemed not to see her.

‘I showed this letter to my solicitor,' Rickie waved a paper under her nose, ‘and he said it proved nothing, nothing at all, because my brother was born in wedlock. And your father, that bastard ram who had been fishing in another man's pond, he tells me to do my worst. Here take it, see what sort of parents we've got for ourselves.'

He thrust a paper into her hands and moved off into the darkness before she could stop him. Slowly Bea returned indoors and seated herself before the fire in the drawing room. Carefully she smoothed out the creased sheet and began to read the words written in her father's hand, scarcely understanding what they meant. And then pain like she had never known exploded within her, she fell to her knees clutching her stomach while soundless retching sobs shook her. Horror hung over her like the touch of death itself.

‘Sweet Jesus it can't be true.' Although the words seemed to rage within her they came out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper. She wished that she could swoon, faint away into an overwhelming darkness, but her mind was crystal clear. This then was her punishment, she was carrying within her the blood of her blood, for Sterling Richardson was her father's son, her own half brother.

It was late spring and the blossoms had come to the trees so swiftly that one day the branches stood out stark against the sky and the next were heavy with flower.

Mali stood staring through the kitchen window, willing the morning to come up fine and sunny for this was the day of the fair. Mali, along with the other women from the laundry, had been given a holiday and an extra shilling to put in her pocket and she felt like a child about to go to a birthday party.

She had made Dad an early breakfast and then had packed up his grub putting with it the usual twist of paper containing tealeaves and sugar for his brew. She had watched him walk into the dimness of early morning with a sense of sadness that he would not be able to have time off from the copper sheds, but the furnaces needed constant attention and someone had to see to them.

There were those who said the Richardsons were too mean to give holidays to the workers but Mali knew that Sterling was not like that. He was most certainly a stern man, some might even say hard, but she had seen something in Sterling that perhaps other people had missed.

She tweaked the ribbon of her hat into place impatiently; this was no time to be thinking of anything but the coming fair. Staring down at the new sprigged muslin skirt, bought with her very own money, she sighed in satisfaction.

Most of her wages she had kept in a stone jar under the sink, so that she simply had to delve into her savings to ensure she looked her best. All the young men of the area would be at the fair, sporting good, clean shirts with starched collars, eyes open wide for any girl who might take their fancy.

Mali felt a sudden tremor of nervousness at the prospect of parading before all and sundry in her fine new clothes. She could not help but feel glad that Katie had come to her last night, practically begging for her company.

‘I don't know if William is going or not.' Katie's tone had been casual but the tightness of her grip on Mali's arm told its own story.

‘You are going to come, now aren't you Mali, I can't go along to the recreation ground by myself an' for sure you'll enjoy it.'

Mali had smiled reassuringly. ‘Of course I'm coming, I wouldn't miss it for the world.' And now here she was, ready before the sun had warmed the streets into life, waiting like a child at a party for some special treat even though she did not know what it might be.

There was a knock on the door and Katie came into the kitchen, her face wearing a freshly washed look, her hair gleaming like silk.

‘Am I too early for you, Mali?' she asked breathlessly. ‘For sure I had to get out of the house before me mammy makes me take the boys along to the fair.'

Mali laughed at Katie's rueful expression. ‘I'm ready, I have been for ages, I'm that excited, you'd think I was Queen of the May or something.'

‘Right then, it's off down the road for us, quick now before I hear the kids bawlin' and change me mind.' Katie dragged on Mali's arm anxiously and the two girls stepped out into the early light that spilled along Copperman's Row.

‘I wonder if I'll meet a fine buck,' Mali said brightly. ‘Someone nice and kind who will take me on the swingboats, a boy so strong that we'll soar above the rooftops, me sitting prim like in my seat and him pulling hard on the ropes. That would be so exciting.'

‘There's only one buck I want to see,' Katie said softly. ‘Oh Mali, love's such a strange thing. It makes for so much hurtin' it's more of a pain than a joy and yet I would not be without it for all that.'

Mali glanced at her friend. Katie had become noticeably thinner in the last few weeks and she had developed a short, harsh cough that seemed to trouble her day and night and yet it was the sadness in her eyes that worried Mali the most, for Katie had always been a girl who enjoyed fun and laughter.

The walk over the hill took the girls little more than half an hour and though Mali had suggested they catch the tram at Green Hill corner, Katie laughingly protested that the money could be better spent on the coconut shies or on buying new silk ribbons for their hair. Mali did not mind, for the sun was beginning to shine brightly. The air was fresh coming in from the sea for the recreation ground was alongside the curving golden stretch of beach.

Even at such an early hour, the fair was already in full swing. The raucous sound of the barrel-organ at the edge of the field drifted towards the girls and Mali felt a sudden surge of excitement. This seemed a day when anything could happen, perhaps even the fulfilment of some of her dreams. At any rate she meant to enjoy the holiday.

Yet even as the thoughts whirled through her mind, she knew that work had become much more than a means of earning money. She had over the weeks gained great satisfaction from the routine of folding sheets and wrapping them and now she had been promoted to the position of writing out the labels for the packages, itemising the linen and checking the list against the customer's own record of what had been sent to the laundry; she felt she was an important part of the business. It was still a regular part of her duties to take Mr Waddington his tea. He seemed to like her even though he scarcely spoke more than a few words of polite thanks as she put his tray on the desk before him, but he always smiled at her as she bobbed him a curtsey.

‘Hey, you're far away. Dreamin' are you?' Katie jogged her arm. ‘Look, there's ice cream, shall we buy some?'

Mali made a rueful face. ‘Not at this time of the morning thank you, I'm going over to look at the sheepdogs. See, they're getting ready for the trials down the far end of the field.'