The Cockney Angel (34 page)

‘Sit down and eat your supper, boy.’

Maude spoke sternly, but Irene noticed that her eyes smiled indulgently.

Arthur shrugged off his damp corduroy jacket and was about to drop it on the floor when a daggers look from Martha sent him scurrying back into the porch to hang it on a hook. He returned to the table and sat down with an apologetic grin. ‘Actually, Renie, I’m very glad you’re here because there’s something I must share with you all.’

Irene knew that look of old. Arthur could never keep a secret or hide his guilt when he had done wrong.

Chapter Seventeen

‘NEVER MIND YOUR
secrets, Arthur,’ Maude said, tapping ash from her pipe into the fire. ‘Have you locked the hen house, and did you notice if Albert had finished in the milking parlour as you passed by?’

‘Oh, really, Miss Maude,’ Martha said impatiently. ‘Can’t you let the boy tell us his news before you start on at him about the farm? He’s all of a dither about something; anyone can see that.’

‘My livestock is more important to me than any goings-on at the smithy. But I suppose I’ll get no peace until you’ve told us this wonderful piece of news. What is it that can’t wait, Arthur?’

He puffed out his chest. ‘I’m betrothed to the sweetest, loveliest girl in the whole of Essex. Miss Betty Bligh has consented to be my wife.’

Irene stared at him in shock as she digested the news. She was pleased for him, of course, but even so she was inexplicably hurt to think that he had transferred his affections so quickly
and
with such apparent ease. She opened her mouth to congratulate him but the words stuck in her throat.

‘Well, Renie? Have you nothing to say?’ Arthur demanded, frowning. ‘Aren’t you happy for me?’

‘Congratulations, Artie,’ she murmured with a half-hearted attempt at a smile.

Maude shook her head. ‘It’s a bit sudden, Arthur. You’ve only known the girl for five minutes and she’s little more than a child.’

‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure,’ Martha added sagely.

Arthur’s smile faded and he cast a pleading look at Irene. ‘I thought you at least would be happy for me, Renie.’

‘Of course I’m pleased for you, Artie. If you’re happy, then I must be too. Only …’

‘Only what?’ His mouth drooped at the corners. ‘What’s wrong? I thought you at least would wish me well.’

‘I do. I mean you haven’t known the girl for long. Perhaps you ought to have waited for a while, especially if she is as young as Miss Maude says she is.’

‘Betty is seventeen, quite old enough to know her own mind. It was love at first sight for both of us.’

Martha ladled a generous helping of stew into his bowl. ‘That don’t mean it will last. It’s
spring
fever that’s got into your blood a bit early this year, young man.’

Maude flicked a scornful glance in her direction. ‘Don’t talk nonsense, you old fool. The boy is clearly besotted, but he won’t thank you or me for telling him so.’ She strode into the porch and took her waxed coat from its peg. She slipped it on with a martyred expression. ‘I’m going to see to the hens and make sure that Albert hasn’t left the lantern burning in the milking parlour.’

‘He’s getting past it, if you ask me,’ Martha said gloomily. ‘The old fool almost set fire to the barn last week.’

‘Why keep him on then?’ Irene asked, steering the conversation away from Arthur’s announcement. She would speak to him later – in private.

‘Because he has worked on the farm since I was a girl,’ Maude said, ramming her felt hat on her head. ‘Albert Perkins has been a good and faithful servant and he’ll stay in the tied cottage until he breathes his last.’

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t burn it down then,’ Martha muttered just loud enough for Maude to hear.

‘I’m ignoring that remark.’ Maude opened the back door, letting in a draught of cold air. ‘You eat your supper, boy. Never mind me. I know I come a poor second in your affections
now
that you’ve found a lady-love. Although for a time I thought your heart was pledged elsewhere. However, it seems I was badly mistaken.’ She disappeared out into the darkness, slamming the door behind her.

‘I’m afraid you’ve upset her, Artie,’ Irene said anxiously.

Martha busied herself by clearing the dirty crockery from the table. ‘She’ll get over it. She’s a tough old bird and it would take more than Mr Arthur getting himself engaged to young Betty to put Miss Maude out of countenance for long. She’s worried because Albert is past his prime and she can’t afford to hire a younger man. Anyway, she don’t like change.’

‘It’s my fault,’ Arthur mumbled through a mouthful of food. ‘I should have seen to it, but I forgot.’

It was Irene’s turn to feel guilty. She had come here uninvited and with little money to pay for her board and lodging. ‘Perhaps I could help round the farm?’

Arthur almost choked on a mouthful of tea. ‘I’d like to see you milk a cow or muck out the stables.’

‘I could if I put my mind to it.’

‘Leave her alone, Mr Arthur,’ Martha said, flicking him with the dishcloth. ‘Eat your vittles. I don’t want to spend the whole evening at the sink.’

Arthur looked up from his plate and grinned. ‘This is one of your best stews, Martha. I’d marry you if I was ten years older.’

Martha’s chubby cheeks flooded with colour. ‘Get on with you, you bad boy. I’m old enough to be your mother and you know it.’ She hurried to the sink and applied herself energetically to the pump handle.

Irene stifled a giggle. ‘Don’t tease her, Artie.’

He managed a chubby-cheeked smile, but his mouth was too full of food to allow him to respond.

Irene waited in silence until he had finished his meal. Her heart was as heavy as lead in her breast. She had not come here with any romantic notions as far as Arthur was concerned, but now that he had made himself a new life in the country and found himself a new love, she realised that he had no need of her. It was a sad fact, but no one needed her. She felt as though she had lost her way. Smothering a sigh, she rose slowly to her feet. ‘Can I do anything to help you, Martha?’

‘Not in them clothes you can’t. That dress alone would cost more than my year’s wages. You’re a guest in this house, Miss Irene, so you just leave everything to me. There’s a fine blaze roaring up the chimney in the parlour so you two can go in there and finish your chat while I do all the work – as usual.’

‘Come on then, Artie,’ Irene said, holding out her hand to him. ‘Let’s do what Martha says, and I’ll tell you why I left London in such a hurry.’

When they were seated on either side of the fireplace in the parlour, Arthur put his feet up on the brass fender. ‘Go on then, tell me what brought you here all of a sudden. It must have been something bad to make you leave London. Come on, Renie, out with it.’

Haltingly at first, but gaining confidence as she related the events that had driven her from home, Irene told him everything that had occurred since she returned to town. Although he listened patiently, she could tell by the faraway look in his eyes that his thoughts were wandering. It was not hard to guess who occupied them so completely. ‘So you see,’ she concluded, ‘I had no choice but to get on the train at Shoreditch and throw myself on Miss Maude’s mercy until I think of a way to support myself.’

Arthur was suddenly alert. ‘Surely you’re not thinking of going back to London?’

‘I have to, Artie. I won’t rest until I have seen Pa released from jail and the Sykes brothers brought to justice. I’m not going to give in without a fight.’

His generous lips formed a tight little circle
as
if he had just been sucking a particularly sour lemon. ‘Oh, no, Renie. I can’t allow you to do that. You must steer clear of Vic and Wally. They wouldn’t think twice about having you permanently silenced, if you get my meaning.’

‘And that is my point exactly. Unless someone puts a stop to them they will just go on and on, bullying, murdering and terrorising the population. I can see that now, and it’s the one thing that I have in common with Inspector Kent.’

‘Don’t tell me you are changing your opinion of the worthy inspector?’

‘No, of course not. He is arrogant and so stiff-necked that he might as well have swallowed a poker. I don’t know how he came to have such a sweet sister who thinks the sun rises and sets at his command.’

‘Maybe he is not as bad as you first thought,’ Arthur said, chuckling.

Irene plucked the cushion from her chair and threw it at him, narrowly missing his head and knocking a china figurine from the mantelshelf. With a quick reaction that Irene noted would have been impossible a few months ago, when he had been drinking heavily, Arthur caught the porcelain shepherdess in his left hand. At the same moment the door opened and Maude walked into the room. She opened her mouth
as
if to remonstrate and then a slow smile lit her face. ‘Children, behave yourselves.’

Irene jumped to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Maude. Won’t you come and sit by the fire?’

Maude did not argue. She sat down, holding her hands out to the glowing coals. ‘It’s raw outside tonight.’

‘I should have seen to all that, Aunt Maude,’ Arthur said apologetically. ‘I’m sorry.’

She stretched her stockinged feet out to warm them on the hearth, and her bare toes wiggled through gaping holes in what appeared to be a pair of men’s socks. Maude saw that Irene was staring at her feet and she chuckled. ‘As you can see, I’m not much of a one for darning, and Martha’s eyesight isn’t what it was.’

‘I’m no good with a needle or I’d offer to mend them for you,’ Irene said, smiling. ‘I’m all fingers and thumbs when it comes to sewing.’

Arthur winked at her. ‘You should have been a boy, Renie. You and Aunt Maude have a lot in common and you both look well in breeches.’

‘You may not believe this, young man, but I was young once and considered to be quite handsome,’ Maude said sternly. She sighed. ‘I can remember what it is like to be in love.’

Irene pulled up a footstool and sat down
beside
her. ‘But you never married, Miss Maude.’

‘My father said that the man I loved wasn’t good enough for me and he forbade the match.’

‘It sounds as though Grandfather Greenwood was just like my old man,’ Arthur muttered. ‘Bad-tempered and unreasonable.’

‘I suppose there must be a similarity,’ Maude agreed, staring dreamily into the dancing flames. ‘But Papa expected me to marry into my own class. Eddie was a farmer and that was quite unacceptable.’

‘Tell us about him,’ Irene said gently. ‘Was he very handsome?’

‘No, not exactly handsome, but he had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, and dark hair that waved back from a high forehead which made him look more like a poet than a farmer. He was tall and slim, not at all the physique one might expect of a man who worked the land for a living.’

‘Well, Aunt, I’m sorry to hear it,’ Arthur said with apparent sincerity.

Irene eyed him curiously. This was a new and very different Arthur from the careless, pleasure-seeking young man she had known since childhood. There could be little doubt that his heightened sensitivities had been brought about by his feelings for the lovely Betty Bligh. She turned her attention to Maude.
‘And
you never found anyone to take his place?’

‘No, my dear, for me there could only be one man. There was never another who came even close to Edward Kent.’

The breath hitched in Irene’s throat. ‘Edward Kent?’ Alice had told her that their father was a farmer and that the family came from Essex, but surely this must be a coincidence.

‘Edward Kent!’ Arthur repeated slowly. ‘Damn me! It can’t be the same family.’

‘Language, Arthur,’ Maude said, frowning. ‘You may be working with labouring men but don’t bring their bad habits into my home.’

‘Sorry, Aunt, but – well, I mean to say.’

‘It’s all in the past,’ Maude said, rising to her feet. ‘I don’t want to talk about it and I’m very tired, so I’ll bid you both goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Miss Maude,’ Irene said automatically.

Arthur stood up dutifully, but his attention was fixed on Irene and as soon as the door closed on his aunt he slumped back on his seat. ‘Hell’s bells, can you believe that, Renie?’

‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘It doesn’t seem possible.’

‘What a laugh. I’ll ask old Bligh if he knows Farmer Kent and his family.’

‘I think it’s best left in the past,’ Irene said, smothering a yawn. ‘I’m a bit tired. I might go
to
my room if you don’t mind, Artie. It’s been a long day.’

‘Of course, you must be worn out. I should have realised that before I started jawing about Betty, and then Aunt Maude had to throw that in about her long lost love. I never associated the old girl with anything so romantic, which just goes to show that one should never make judgements about others.’

‘No, and we don’t know for certain that Miss Maude’s farmer is related to the person we know in London.’

‘No,’ Arthur said, frowning thoughtfully. ‘But it explains why she won’t have anything to do with her sister. I was told that Aunt Dora married Maude’s old flame and that was why they hadn’t spoken from that day to this. Wouldn’t it be funny if we discovered that this was a skeleton in the inspector’s family cupboard?’

‘Yes, I suppose so, Artie.’ Irene leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.’

He seized her hand and squeezed it. ‘You won’t go dashing back to London before we’ve had time to talk more, will you?’

‘No, I won’t. Cross my heart and hope to die.’

‘Good. I’m glad we’ve settled that.’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘You always
were
my best friend, Renie, and you always will be.’

‘That goes for me too. Now let me go or I’ll be blubbing like a baby.’

It was not until she reached her bedchamber that Irene allowed herself the luxury of a good cry. She flung herself down on the soft feather bed and gave vent to a maelstrom of emotions which both shocked and confused her. She had always thought of herself as being strong-minded and self-possessed, and yet here she was sobbing into her pillow like a baby for reasons which it was hard to define. When at last the tears dried on her cheeks, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the flickering shadows dancing on the ceiling. The burning coals made companionable crackling and snapping sounds. Outside, the wind whistled through the bare branches of the trees and rain lashed the windows in a relentless downpour. Irene shuddered to think she might have been living rough on the streets for all Josiah cared.