The Cockney Angel (24 page)

Emily wrinkled her nose. ‘For heaven’s sake,
Renie
. What a state you’re in. You look and smell like – well, I don’t want to say what, but it’s not nice. Couldn’t you have tidied yourself up before you came to my house? I do hope you came in through the tradesmen’s entrance.’

‘No, I came in through the front door, and I’m sorry if I’ve upset the neighbours, but there’s something I have to tell you both. You obviously have no idea what’s been going on.’

Clara slumped down on the chair opposite Irene. ‘It’s your father again, isn’t it? We haven’t seen him since you were last here, and I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’

‘You should be used to it after all these years, Ma,’ Emily said irritably. ‘All this fuss isn’t good for baby. He’s kicking me something awful tonight. I don’t think he likes oysters. I must tell Mrs Peabody not to put them in the steak and kidney pudding until after he’s born, although my Josiah won’t like it, because he’s particularly partial to oysters.’

‘Oh, shut up, Emmie,’ Irene cried, driven almost to screaming point. ‘Don’t you ever think about anything other than yourself?’

Emily’s eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip trembled. ‘Don’t be horrid. You know I mustn’t be upset in any way. Why did you have to come here tonight and spoil everything?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Irene said more gently. ‘I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m sorry to say that
we
are ruined. Pa has somehow got himself involved in a gang fight between the Sykes brothers and the Spitalfields mob, and he’s in prison awaiting trial.’

Clara uttered a low moan and covered her face with her hands. ‘I knew something dreadful had happened. Oh, Billy, what am I to do with you?’

Irene gave her a hug. ‘Pa will be all right. You mustn’t upset yourself.’

‘Yes,’ Emily agreed, nodding her head. ‘Pa will be fine, but what will Mr Tippet say when he finds out? I wish Pa was here so that I could give him a piece of my mind.’

Irene shot her a warning glance. ‘Never mind that now.’

Clara produced a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose. ‘You’re right, Emmie. My Billy has been through worse.’ She gave Irene a watery smile. ‘But where have you been all this time, ducks?’

‘Arthur ran off to his Aunt Maude in Essex and I had to go chasing after him to warn him that the police were on his trail. I came back today to find that the landlord has changed the locks and let the shop to someone else; most probably to one of those strange people who actually pay the rent.’ Irene stopped for breath just as Jessie staggered into the room carrying a foot bath.

‘Where shall I put it, ma’am?’

‘Where do you think, you silly girl?’ Emily clambered to her feet, holding her swollen belly with both hands. ‘Put it down by my sister and get out.’

Jessie dumped the bowl in front of Irene and fled the room, slamming the door behind her. Irene glanced anxiously at her mother, who was silent and deathly pale.

‘What will my Josiah say?’ Emily sank back onto the chaise longue, fanning herself with her hand. ‘This is all your fault, Renie. I blame you more than I blame Pa. You were supposed to be looking after him and you didn’t. You ran off after that useless idiot Arthur Greenwood.’

‘You don’t understand—’ Irene began, but Emily cut her short.

‘You’ll have to marry him now, you know. You’ve ruined your reputation and ours too. Josiah will be so angry. He won’t want you in the house, Renie. You’ll have to go back to your lover and beg him to make an honest woman of you. You can’t stay here. I won’t have disgrace brought on the house of Tippet, so when you’re warm and dry, off you go. I mean it, Renie. Go away and leave us in peace.’

Chapter Twelve

‘NO, EMMIE,’ CLARA
cried angrily. ‘I won’t allow you to treat poor Renie so. You can’t turn her out on a night like this without even giving her a chance to tell us how she came to be in such a pickle.’

It was far from funny, but the mention of the word pickle made Irene giggle. Perhaps it was simple hysteria that was making her laugh uncontrollably, but in the face of destitution and disaster the allusion to their former trade could not have been more inappropriate. ‘Oh, Ma, I wish you could have thought of something other than onions and cucumbers swimming in vinegar. Our whole lives have been in a pickle if you ask me.’ She paused for breath as she realised that Emmie was not at all amused and that Ma was weeping into a cotton handkerchief, which came almost certainly, Irene thought inconsequentially, from Josiah’s shop. It was probably not of the best quality; the hankies made of fine lawn trimmed with lace would have been reserved for his richer customers. She was suddenly serious. ‘Don’t
look
at me like that, Emmie. You don’t know the whole story, but I can tell you for sure that there’s nothing funny going on between me and Artie. We are good friends and that’s all.’

‘Then why did you go running after him? And if there wasn’t anything in it, why did you stay away so long?’ Emily reached for a silver vinaigrette that was strategically placed on a table by her side and she sniffed the aromatic fumes, closing her eyes and coughing delicately.

Irene ignored this piece of theatre and she put the steaming bowl of mustard water aside in order to kneel at her mother’s feet. ‘Don’t upset yourself, Ma. If Emmie doesn’t want me here, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.’

Clara gulped and sniffed. ‘No, you won’t. You’ll stay here even if I have to go to Josiah and beg him on bended knees.’ She turned to give Emily a hard stare. ‘And you, miss, I’m ashamed of you, putting your own feelings first. Let Renie tell her story and stop thinking about yourself for a moment.’

‘I’m sorry, Ma.’ Emily’s cheeks flooded with colour and she hung her head. ‘I’ll hear you out, Renie, and I daresay I can persuade Josiah to let you stay for a night or two, just until you’ve sorted matters with the landlord. But you must understand that I have to put my husband first. Just think what it would do to
his
trade if it got out that his father-in-law was in prison, and his wife’s sister was no better than she should be.’

‘Oh, Emmie,’ Irene said with a reluctant smile. ‘You should get together with Inspector Kent. I’m sure he would agree with you about my character.’

‘Just let me speak to that person,’ Clara said angrily. ‘I’ll give him a piece of my mind all right. Your father would still be a free man if it wasn’t for that Inspector Kent.’

‘Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll be keeping well out of his way in future. That fellow has a heart of stone.’ Irene hesitated as she recalled the tenderness that Kent had shown his crippled sister, and she felt obliged to qualify her statement. ‘He might not be so bad to others, but there is no common ground between us. We’re as different as mint sauce and Worcestershire relish.’

‘Will you forget the wretched shop for a moment and tell us everything,’ Emmie said, frowning. ‘And be quick about it before Josiah and Ephraim return from stocktaking. If you must stay then I’ll get Jessie to make up a bed in the room next to hers on the top floor.’

Clara stared at her in horror. ‘You can’t put your sister up in the attics with the servants, Emmie. What will they think?’

‘Perhaps you’re right, Ma. Well, you can
have
the back bedroom on the floor below, Renie, but you must understand that this is just a temporary measure.’

‘That’s settled then,’ Clara said with a satisfied smile. ‘Have you eaten, Renie? If you’re hungry I’m sure that Cook could make up a supper tray for you.’

‘A bit,’ Irene replied, thinking wistfully of the tasty meal she had rejected at the Kents’ house. ‘But I don’t want to put Cook out as well as Jessie.’

‘The servants will do as I say.’ Emily closed the vinaigrette with a decisive snap. ‘If you want food it shall be brought to your room. Now, tell us what put you and Arthur on the wrong side of the law.’

Half an hour later, after answering all Emmie’s questions, Irene followed the flickering light of Jessie’s candle as they made their way up the stairs to the third floor. Jessie paused on the landing, pointing to the door immediately opposite them. ‘That’s Mr Ephraim’s room.’ She continued on her way, stopping outside a door further along the corridor. ‘That’s Mr Erasmus’s room. He’s inclined to wander in the night, if you get my meaning. I should lock my door if I was you, I know I do and so does Cook, although I can’t see that Mr Ras would want to tumble an old besom like her.’

‘Thank you, Jessie,’ Irene said tiredly. ‘I don’t think I want to hear any more.’

‘Suit yourself, but don’t say as how I didn’t warn you.’ With a disdainful sniff, Jessie walked off to open a door at the end of the long, dark passage. ‘I suppose you’ll want the fire lit?’ she said grudgingly.

‘Y-yes, I w-will,’ Irene murmured through chattering teeth. She was shivering violently as her damp clothes absorbed the chill in the room, which looked as though it had not been used for some time. The furniture was covered in white dust sheets that seemed to shift like restless spirits in the flickering light of Jessie’s candle.

‘And I’ve got to bring supper up all them stairs too,’ Jessie grumbled, half to herself as she lit two candles strategically placed on the dusty mantelshelf. ‘I can’t make up the bed and light the fire as well as carrying a heavy tray up from the basement. What does she think I am? A blooming slave?’

At this point, Irene was too tired to argue and too cold and hungry to care about the manners of a servant girl. If she were to tell the truth, she quite sympathised with young Jessie. She could see that the girl was much put upon, and it was obvious that Josiah was not a generous employer, expecting too much from one skinny maidservant who was little
more
than a child. He probably paid her in buttons too.

‘I’ll fetch the clean linen first,’ Jessie said, moving towards the door. ‘It’s in the cupboard just down the passage.’

‘No, you’ve got enough to do,’ Irene said. ‘Just tell me where it is. I can make up my own bed.’

‘You won’t tell the missis, will you? She’ll be angry with me if I don’t do exactly as I’m told.’

‘I won’t say a word, but I would be grateful for a fire and some hot food, if it’s not too much trouble.’

‘Well I never did!’ Jessie stared at her wide-eyed. ‘Are you sure that you’re her sister? You don’t act like her, and you don’t even look much alike.’

‘Get on with you before I change my mind.’

‘All right then, miss. The linen cupboard is two doors down on the right.’ Jessie backed out of the doorway. ‘I’ll fetch the coal first.’ She disappeared into the darkness and her footsteps echoed on the bare treads of the back stairs.

Irene picked up a candlestick and went in search of the linen cupboard, but a sudden cold draught of air extinguished the candle, leaving her in the dark, and she had to feel her way along the wall, counting the doors as
she
went. She opened the one she thought Jessie had said was the linen cupboard, but to her horror she found herself staring at Erasmus’s bare legs as he hopped about on one foot in an attempt to put on his trousers. He stared at her open-mouthed and a dull flush suffused his face. Irene did not know whether to laugh or to cover her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought this was the linen cupboard.’

‘Wait a moment.’ He turned away to fasten his breeches, glancing at her over his shoulder with a slow smile. ‘I say, old girl, you caught me with my trousers down.’

‘It was a mistake – the maid must have given me the wrong direction. I’m sorry.’

‘I had no idea that you were paying us a visit, and I can’t think why a guest in my father’s house should be searching for the linen cupboard.’

‘My candle went out. I picked the wrong door. Excuse me.’ Irene backed towards the door. ‘I wasn’t expected – the maid went downstairs to get coal for the fire …’ She knew it sounded lame, but she was so taken aback that she was for once lost for words.

Erasmus turned to give her an appraising stare. ‘You do look a bit bedraggled, if you don’t mind me saying so, Aunt-in-law. Won’t you come in and make use of my fire until the girl has made your room habitable? We can’t
allow
guests to wait on themselves; it wouldn’t do at all.’

‘Don’t laugh at me, Erasmus,’ Irene said, recovering just enough to feel angry rather than nonplussed. ‘I know I look a sight, but then so would you if you’d spent half the day travelling and arrived to find yourself homeless.’

‘And your father locked up in Newgate. Not a good state of affairs, I’m afraid. Take a seat by the fire and tell me all about it.’

Irene was so cold that she had lost all feeling in her hands and feet, and the button-back armchair by the hearth looked warm and comfortable. It was an offer too good to refuse. She perched on the edge of the seat, holding her hands out to the blaze. ‘How did you find out about Pa?’ she demanded. ‘Emmie didn’t know and neither did Ma.’

‘Word gets round.’ Erasmus tapped the side of his nose. ‘Especially in the sort of establishments I frequent. I believe it was your friend Gentle Annie who told me, or it could have been Fiery Nan.’ He rubbed his jaw and smiled. ‘I can still feel the punch she once gave me. She had a right hook equal to that of the celebrated Tom Cribb.’

‘Do you think that the news has reached your father?’ Irene asked anxiously.

‘Not so far as I know.’

‘Then keep it to yourself. Please, Ras, for
Emmie’s
sake don’t say anything until she’s had time to break it gently to Josiah.’

‘What’s it worth?’ he demanded, grinning. ‘I’d expect a hug at least, or maybe a kiss.’

Irene jumped to her feet. ‘I’m not in the mood for joking.’

‘I can see that, and I’m too much of a gentleman to press my point, but remember that you owe me something for keeping quiet about your pa’s sad plight.’

‘You’ll get what you deserve,’ Irene said with a touch of her old spirit. ‘A clip round the ear is what you’ll get for your cheek, my boy. I may be tired and grubby but I ain’t stupid.’

‘You women! You burst into a fellow’s bedchamber, catching him in a state of undress, and then you act all coy and modest.’

It was impossible to be angry with him, and in spite of everything Irene chuckled at his expression of mock outrage. ‘You’re a rogue, Ras Tippet.’