No Cure for Love (34 page)

What could she do? Her mother was now sobbing almost uncontrollably as she scraped together the last bits, and there would be no reasoning with her in the condition she was in. She hadn’t been as bad as this when Gran died. Josie gave a heavy sigh, picked up her school books and tucked them under her arm.

She followed her mother down the servants’ stairs of the Coopers’ house, across Wellclose Square and out into the fading sunset of a cold autumn evening.

 

The sun was just touching the church spires of the city behind him when Robert burst into the hall of Mr Cooper’s homely residence. He had run all the way from St Paul’s, oblivious to the stares of amazement his sprint along Lower Thames Street caused. Twice he had nearly found himself under the wheels of a loaded cart fresh from the docks, but dodging all obstacles in his way he forced himself on. As the maid opened the front door Mrs Cooper came out of the parlour to greet him. She was still in her coat from her afternoon parish visiting.

‘Doctor Munroe, how—’ she began, with a welcoming smile, then froze where she stood.

Robert wasn’t surprised. He probably looked as wild as he felt, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have time to exchange pleasantries. He had to find Ellen. His very life depended on it.

Almost knocking Mrs Cooper off her feet, he dashed past her up the stairs to the small attic where Ellen and Josie were lodging. As his aching muscles propelled him up the final few steps he prayed silently that he would find Ellen waiting for him. Distraught yes, shaken yes, but waiting.

With the breath burning deep in his lungs he shoved open the door to find what he most feared, an empty room.

He stood for a second then let out an almighty howl and punched the wall to his side. There was an instant pain in his knuckles, but it was a pale imitation of the pain tearing through his body.

Behind him he could hear the sound of others in the house making their way up the stairs. Mrs Cooper’s voice could be heard calling for her husband in a tone charged with concern, but it barely infiltrated his brain. All his mind could register was the vacant room.

He had to find her. There might be something that would give him an inkling of where she could have fled to. He scanned the room and spied a small travel chest under the window, then he exploded. He wrenched the lid open so forcefully that it hit the window sill and fell back, narrowly missing his hands. Robert lifted the lid and peered in.

Nothing.

Next he caught sight of a small chest of drawers against the back wall. He pulled open the top drawer in the small cabinet. It came out and clattered on the wooden floor, empty. He ripped out the drawer below. That was also empty and joined its fellow on the floor.

His gaze fell on the bed. She might have left something under the mattress. Gripping the patchwork counterpane Robert wrenched it off and threw it behind him.

There was a scream in the room. It seemed to come from a long way away. Robert ignored it. He clutched hold of the mattress hurled it off the frame, exposing the slats underneath. Again there was nothing.

Blood was pounding in his ears and there was sweat on his brow. With his hands balled into fists Robert looked around the room. He saw Mrs Cooper in the doorway, her downstairs maid sobbing beside her. He spied the picture on the wall just above her head and reached for it. The maid let out a scream and fled back down the stairs. Robert didn’t give her a second’s thought, he just continued towards the picture. Maybe there was a note secreted behind it.

‘Doctor Munroe,’ he heard someone say in a distant voice. His fingers curled around the papier-mâché picture frame.

‘Munroe!’

Robert stopped, picture in hand and surveyed the wreckage of Ellen’s room. He blinked twice and stared at the Mr Cooper. He let the picture in his hand fall to the floor.

‘Ellen ran from the court and I have to find her,’ Robert told him. He picked up the bedlinen and started to pull it apart.

The minister gave his wife a small nod and she left the room. Mr Cooper took hold of the cane chair, one of the few pieces of furniture that had escaped Robert’s attention, and sat down. Robert continued to sift through the debris on the floor.

‘What happened?’ the minister asked calmly.

‘I have to find Ellen.’ Robert repeated. He stopped his frantic upheaval of sheets and quilts and stood uneasily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

‘And so you shall, but why don’t you tell me first what happened at the trial,’ Reverend Cooper continued in the same unruffled voice.

The thoughts and emotions racing around in Robert’s brain started to slow. He relaxed his hands. He flipped the lid of the travel chest down and sat on it.

‘Donovan was found guilty?’ Mr Cooper asked.

‘Oh yes. No jury could do otherwise. The evidence was overwhelming. With Danny and his gang in custody many have found the courage to come forward and testify. Jackson had two constables transcribing statements for the last week in readiness for the trial.’

‘It’s your pursuit of justice that has made that possible, ’ Mr Cooper told him. But Robert would not be flattered.

‘Justice? I wasn’t very just towards Mrs O’Casey, was I?’ He dropped his head in his hands for a moment as the memories of the trial came back to him. ‘What I let my poor Ellen suffer in court!’ He shot a glance at the man opposite him. ‘I hadn’t mentioned it before because I didn’t want to embarrass you and Mrs Cooper, but Mrs O’Casey and I are—’

‘I think I understand the nature of your relationship with Mrs O’Casey. She is, after all, a handsome woman,’ Mr Cooper said with just a trace of censure.

Robert pulled back his shoulders and, now, with his mind returned to its usual clarity he fixed the man opposite with a firm stare.

‘I don’t think you do,’ he replied. ‘I love Ellen and I intend to marry her as soon as I can.’ Mr Cooper’s shaggy eyebrows shot upwards. ‘In fact I should have married her before the trial. That would have saved her from being mauled by Smyth-Hilton in the witness box.’ Robert punched the palm of one hand with the fist of the other. ‘In front of the whole court, including the press, he made her out to be a whore, a liar, a drunk and a thief.’

‘I am sure no one who knows Mrs O’Casey would believe that,’ the minister said.

‘That is not the point. She should never have been made to suffer that. All those now so eager to give evidence against Donovan can only do so now because of Ellen’s bravery.’ Robert ran his hands through his hair. ‘For the love of God, Cooper. You didn’t see what she looked like when they brought her in to the hospital that night. It’s a miracle, and I mean a true miracle, she wasn’t killed. And after all that, I let Danny’s greasy barrister abuse her in front of everyone.’

‘I think you’re being a little hard on yourself, Munroe,’ Reverend Cooper argued.

‘I don’t. If it hadn’t been for my own stupid pride, arrogance, self-importance, call it what you will, I would have done the honourable thing and married her as soon as she had recovered, whatever the cost. She put herself in danger because she loved me and I should have protected her. Instead of which I allowed myself to be persuaded to keep our relationship a secret because of my reputation.’ Self-loathing swept over him again. ‘My reputation! Huh! As if I should give a damm about it, compared with what Ellen did.’

He stood up and Mr Cooper looked alarmed. Robert put out his hand and patted the air. ‘Don’t worry, I am myself again.’ He glanced around the room and lifted the corner of his mouth slightly. ‘Please send my apologies to Mrs Cooper and tell her I am sorry for the disruption to her household,’ he said, indicating the ruins of the small room. ‘I will, of course, make good any damage. If you would excuse me. You’ll understand that I have to press on because I will not rest until I have found Mrs O’Casey and done what I should have done weeks ago, and make her my wife.’

 

With her breath nearly gone Ellen collapsed against number fourteen Cinnamon Court. She grasped hold of the wooden knocker and pounded on the faded brown door. Several dogs barked warningly at the sound and glimpses of light showed in windows. Pulling the shawl closer around her head, she hid her face as curtains across the street were pulled back. Josie stood rigid beside her. In their dash from Wellclose Square she and Josie had passed not a word. They didn’t need to. Her daughter’s protest at their flight was written in every angle of her unyielding posture.

Just as she was about to knock again the door opened and Sarah Nolan stood with a raised pan above her head.

‘Oh, it’s you, Ellen,’ she said, lowering her weapon and letting them into the small hallway. ‘And Josie too. What’s the to-do?’

Josie stepped into the hall but didn’t follow as the two women started down towards the scullery at the back. Taking firm hold of her daughter Ellen dragged her along with her.

‘I don’t understand why we are running away like this,’ she hissed at her mother.

‘I do, and that’s all you need to know,’ Ellen replied tersely.

With Josie lagging behind her Ellen entered Sarah’s scullery. Sarah and Patrick Nolan and their seven children lived in only the lower half of the house. Mr and Mrs Strazskoski, the Polish tailor, his wife and their four children lived above.

In the crowded scullery Josie’s school friend Matte stood at the sink, up to her elbows in dirty water, washing the supper plates, while around a scrubbed table sat ten-year-old Anna, the snotty-faced seven-year-old Katie and an equally snotty-nosed four-year-old Fergus Nolan. Sitting together on a rug in front of the black iron range sat the year-old twins, Peter and Paul. Pat Nolan, the head of the family, sat by the fire in the only armchair, smoking a pipe. He acknowledged Ellen and Josie with a wink as they came in, but continued to draw on his pipe, a glass of dark beer at his elbow. For a second Ellen wondered where Patrick was, then remembered Josie saying that his ship was sailing that very morning.

Sarah pulled Ellen aside while her children continued their supper of potatoes and tripe stew.

‘I’m surprised to see you here,’ she said, pouring a small glass of beer from a jug on the mantelshelf and handing it to her. ‘The word is that Danny’s goin’ to swing. I thought you’d have somewhere cosier to be tonight than here. I thought you and the Doctor would be—’ She stopped and gave Josie a quick glance. ‘You know.’

Ellen took the drink and found that her hands were shaking. ‘I ... I ...’ she started, then began sobbing.

Sarah clapped her hands sharply and the children looked up. ‘Come on, finish your supper,’ she commanded. ‘Matte. Get the young ’uns to bed.’

Matte wiped her hands on her apron and gave Josie a little smile.

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Josie said, picking up one of the twins from the rug while Anna struggled to get the other one on her hip.

At their mother’s instruction the children around the table slurped down the last of their supper and headed for the door. Ellen stood, unable to stem her flow of tears, as the children left the table.

Sarah came over and placed a brawny arm around Ellen’s shoulders. She gave her husband a fierce look and jerked her head to one side a couple of times.

With a sigh, Patrick knocked out the embers of his pipe on the grate and stood up. ‘I’ll be away to the Grapes to settle the dust then,’ he said, reaching for the tweed coat slung across the back of his chair. ‘Ellen,’ he said, nodding at her as he passed.

She couldn’t answer. She just stood there like an idiot, blubbering. Sarah led her to the chair that Patrick had just vacated and sat her down. She turned back to her husband as he was about to leave the scullery.

‘Don’t you be buying that Dermot Ryan more than one drink without him returning the favour, you hear?’ she called after Patrick. He raised his hand, but didn’t turn.

Sarah turned to Ellen. ‘Now, do you mind telling me what has caused you to be standing at my front door at this time of night greeting loud enough to summon the dead from their rest?’

So Ellen did.

For the first ten minutes she blabbered on incoherently, but after a shot of Irish whiskey from Patrick’s precious store, she explained everything. It took a full hour of coaxing and crying, but finally Ellen managed to recount the whole story of the court, Smyth-Hilton, Danny and Robert.

‘So that’s why Josie and I are here. I need somewhere to stay until I can buy us passage on the first ship to New York. Do you see?’

‘No. No, I don’t. There is plenty of quality, King Billy for one, who have had women who played on the stage and they in breeches no less. At least you never paraded around like that. So what difference will it make to Doctor Munroe if a couple of stuffy toffs don’t talk him? To the devil with them, that’s what I say. You’re as good as any and better than most.’

‘That’s what I told her,’ Josie piped up as she came back into the room. ‘Doctor Munroe would have found us gone by now, Ma, and it must have fair broke his heart,’ her daughter said, looking at her hard.

Ellen felt Robert’s name like a blow in the pit of her stomach.

‘For the love of the saints, Ellen, why can’t you marry the poor man? Sure everyone knows he’s like a man with a spell on him,’ Sarah said, uncorking the whiskey bottle again. She poured herself a drink and topped up Ellen’s glass.

For one moment Ellen let herself think of a world where it might just be possible to do as her heart was begging her and marry Robert. For a moment she saw a home full of love and children and Robert. Then she shut it away.

It would never be. All she had now were the memories of their too-short time together. She would call them back and live on their warmth for the rest of her life, but just now she needed all her strength to do what she had to do. Not for herself, but for Robert.

There were spots dancing before her eyes and a red fuzzy line on the right of her vision. She had the strength left to argue but she barely had enough to stand. Putting her hand up to shade her eyes from the light of the spluttering tallow lamp, she spoke again.