The Cockney Angel (39 page)

She entered the room, looking round and taking in the elegant proportions. It would certainly fit the purpose. She eyed Jim curiously. ‘You are prepared to make money out of other people gambling, and yet you look down on Pa for that very weakness which led him to fall into the clutches of the Sykes brothers. I don’t think I understand you at all, Jim.’

‘Don’t put me in the same category as those ruthless criminals. This will be a respectable establishment, more of a gentlemen’s club than a gaming hell.’

‘I don’t see the difference. Men will still gamble away their hard-earned money and get into debt because of it.’

‘They will have a fair chance here, Renie. There will be no marking of cards or fixing the roulette wheel. The only difference between us and the expensive gentlemen’s clubs up West will be that we cater for ordinary middle-class men, not wealthy toffs. If I see a fellow who is betting more than I think he can afford, I’ll put a stop to his gambling and send him on his way.’ He strolled over to the fireplace and
rested
his arm on the mantelshelf, staring down into the empty grate. ‘And as to the women, Renie, I want you to vet those who come through the doors. There will be no cat fights or brawling in our establishment. They will be expected to grace the proceedings and entertain the men over food and wine, but there will be no …’ he hesitated, glancing at her over his shoulder. ‘There will be no hanky-panky, if you know what I mean.’

Irene doubled up with laughter. ‘We are not running a knocking-shop, is that what you are trying to say, brother?’

‘Ma should have washed your mouth out with soap a long time ago, Irene Angel. You are a respectable girl and I don’t want to hear you using gutter language.’

‘I can’t believe how prim and proper you’ve become,’ Irene said slowly. ‘I thought you would be more broad-minded after so many years at sea and having seen so much of the world.’

‘My dear little sister, I’ve seen things that would make your hair stand on end, and it’s for that reason that I want to protect you from the worst side of human nature.’

‘And yet you want me to help you run a gaming establishment. I don’t understand.’

‘I’ve told you that this will be the best of its kind and properly run. I’ve saved hard to get
enough
money together to enable me to come ashore, but I’m not qualified for anything other than a ship’s officer, and I know nothing of trade. This is the only way I can think of to make enough money to give us a reasonable standard of living. You must see that.’

She met his intense gaze and saw that he was in earnest. She realised that, despite his apparent self-confidence, he was asking for her approval. She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘I understand, and I’m sorry if I’ve appeared ungrateful. I know you want to do your best by us and I’ll help you in any way I can.’

He crossed the floor in two strides to give her a brotherly hug. ‘Thanks, Renie. I knew I could count on you. Now come and see the rest of the house. You can choose your own room and I’ll introduce you to Mrs Garnet, the woman I’ve hired to keep house for us. She’s busy downstairs with a cleaning woman, they’re trying to put the kitchen to rights as we speak.’

‘We have a housekeeper?’

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Of course we have a housekeeper, as well as a scullery maid and a tweeny. I wasn’t planning for you and Ma to cook and clean for us. No, Renie, from now on we’re going to live in style. We’ll work hard, but we’re going up in the world.’ He took her by the hand. ‘Come, we’ll
have
to hurry if we are to pay a visit to Love Lane.’

Irene hesitated. ‘Jim, will you do something for me?’

‘Yes, of course. What is it?’

‘Will you go and see Pa in Newgate and make your peace with him?’

‘You needn’t worry, poppet. It was always my intention to visit the old rogue.’

An hour later, Irene had chosen her bedroom on the second floor at the rear of the house, well away from the noise and bustle of the busy thoroughfare. The view from her window was not particularly prepossessing, as it overlooked the back yards and outhouses of the buildings in Five Foot Lane, but at least she might expect nights of undisturbed sleep. It was not a particularly large room and was simply furnished with a pine bedstead, a burr-walnut dressing table and an oak clothes press with a pine washstand. Nothing matched, but the eclectic mix of furnishings gave the room a certain raffish charm. The carpet was faded and worn and the curtains were slightly frayed, but that was a mere detail and a fault easily remedied, if Jim could be persuaded to include such items on their shopping list. Irene would have loved to unpack and settle into her new room, but Jim summoned her, insisting they
go
down to the basement kitchen where he introduced her to Mrs Garnet, the cook-housekeeper, Ida the fourteen-year-old scullery maid and fifteen-year-old Flossie, the tweeny. Then, having ordered dinner for six o’clock, Jim hurried Irene out of the house, giving her instructions to wait on the doorstep while he went to look for a cab.

As they approached Love Lane, Irene prayed silently that there would not be a scene. Jim might be confident of her reception but she was not. Her eviction from the house was still fresh in her mind and she could not imagine that Josiah would have had a change of heart. The cab set them down outside the Tippet mansion and Jessie answered the door, but her pale face was unusually grave.

‘How is my sister?’ Irene asked anxiously. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

‘The doctor is with her now, miss.’ Jessie held her hands out to receive Irene’s outer garments, but she kept her eyes averted.

‘Is she – I mean, is the baby coming?’

‘I think so, miss. There’s been a terrible lot of screaming going on all afternoon.’ Jessie took Jim’s coat and hat, backing away with a scared look on her pinched features. ‘You don’t need me to see you upstairs, I’m sure.’ She turned and ran in the direction of the back stairs.

‘Who is it, Jessie? Who was that at the door?’

Irene looked up to see her mother peering through the banisters. ‘Ma, it’s me, Irene, and Jim too.’

‘Oh, Renie. Thank God you’ve come. I was never so pleased to see anyone in my whole life.’

Irene raced up the stairs, stumbling over her long skirts in her haste. ‘Is Emmie all right?’

‘She’s having a hard time,’ Clara cried, throwing her arms around Irene’s neck. ‘The midwife has been here since last night and we had to send for the doctor several hours ago. They won’t let me into her bedchamber and Josiah is quite distraught.’

Jim was close behind Irene and he slipped his arm around his mother’s shoulders. ‘Now, Ma, calm down, there’s a dear. I am certain that the doctor has everything under control.’

Clara allowed him to lead her into the drawing room. ‘You’re right, of course. It’s just the waiting that is so unbearable.’

‘I know, Ma, but getting yourself all of a dither won’t help Emmie.’ Jim helped her to the sofa. ‘You rest there like a good girl.’

‘I think a glass of sherry might be just the thing,’ Irene said, moving swiftly to a side table laden with an assortment of cut-glass decanters. She filled a glass with the amber liquid and gave it to her mother. ‘Sip this, Ma.
I’ll
go upstairs and see how things are going with Emmie.’

Jim eyed her doubtfully. ‘Oughtn’t you to stay and keep Ma company? I mean, this is women’s business. I’m just in the way.’

‘Nonsense,’ Irene said, trying not to smile at his obvious discomfort. ‘I’m sure that Ma would love to hear all about our new house and your plans to start up in business.’ Without giving him a chance to argue, she hurried from the room. She was halfway up the second flight of stairs when she heard Emmie’s howls of pain. It sounded more like an animal in distress than the cries of a human being and Irene broke into a run. She paused outside the bedchamber and tapped on the door.

Moments later it opened just a crack and a woman wearing a white goffered cap and a starched apron peered out. ‘Who is it?’

‘I’m Mrs Tippet’s sister,’ Irene said, craning her neck in an attempt to see over the midwife’s broad shoulder. ‘May I see her?’

‘She’s in no fit state to receive visitors. Please wait downstairs.’ The woman was about to close the door but Irene stopped it with the toe of her boot.

‘She would want me to be present. Please ask the doctor if I may come in.’

‘He’s got his hands full. Go away, miss.’

‘Renie, is that you?’ Emmie’s plaintive cry came from within.

Ignoring the midwife’s protests, Irene barged into the room. ‘It’s all right, Emmie. I’m here.’

‘I’m sorry, Dr Telford,’ the midwife said apologetically. ‘I tried to stop her.’

‘Hold my hand, Renie,’ Emmie muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Don’t leave me.’

‘It’s all right, nurse,’ Dr Telford said, mopping his brow with a damp and crumpled handkerchief. ‘If this young person’s presence calms the patient, then let her stay.’ He gave Irene a cursory glance. ‘You won’t faint or do anything silly now, will you, young lady?’

Irene felt slightly sick at the sight of her sister’s swollen and distended belly but she shook her head. ‘No, doctor, I’m not squeamish.’ It was a lie, of course, but it drew a twisted smile from Emmie’s pale lips.

‘You never could stand the sight of blood, Renie. I remember the time—’ Emmie broke off with a deep-throated cry of pain and she gripped Irene’s hand so hard that she felt her bones must break.

‘I can see the baby’s head,’ Dr Telford said, beckoning to the midwife. ‘Come here, woman, and assist me.’

‘You’re doing well, Emmie,’ Irene said in
what
she hoped was an encouraging voice. ‘Be brave, ducks.’

‘That’s right, Mrs Tippet,’ Dr Telford said calmly. ‘Breathe easily for a moment and when I tell you, try to push hard.’

When the command came, Emmie closed her eyes as she made an obvious effort to do as the doctor ordered and her grip on Irene’s hands tightened.

‘Well done, love,’ Irene murmured through clenched teeth.

‘I can’t do it,’ Emmie sobbed, falling back against the pillows with tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘I’m going to die. I know I am.’

‘Nonsense,’ Irene said sharply. ‘Don’t talk rot, Emmie. Do as the doctor says and it will soon be over. You’ll have a fine baby and Josiah will be proud of you.’

‘Once more, Mrs Tippet.’ Dr Telford signalled to the midwife. ‘Have the towel ready, nurse. We’re almost there.’

‘It’s all right for you,’ Emmie snapped. ‘It doesn’t bloody well hurt you like it does me.’

‘Now, ma’am,’ Dr Telford said sternly. ‘One last push.’

‘That’s it, Emmie,’ Irene cried with tears springing to her own eyes. ‘I can see your baby coming. Oh my …’

* * *

Something wet was falling on her face and trickling down her neck. Irene opened her eyes and it came to her slowly that she was lying on the floor beside the bed. The midwife’s grim countenance was hovering above her like something out of a bad dream, and she was systematically splashing water onto her face. Irene struggled to a sitting position. ‘What happened?’

‘You fainted, miss. Luckily you fell flat on your back and not over the mother.’

The sound of a baby’s cry brought Irene rapidly to her senses and she raised herself to kneel by her sister’s bedside. ‘Emmie?’

‘It’s a girl, Renie. A lovely little girl.’

‘Are you all right, dear?’ Irene asked anxiously. ‘I thought you was a goner back there.’

‘I’ve never been better,’ Emmie replied, smiling happily at the red-faced infant swaddled in clean sheeting and lying in the crook of her arm. ‘But I am a bit tired. All I want to do now is to sleep. Will you go downstairs and put my Josiah out of his misery? Tell him he has a beautiful baby daughter and remind him that he promised me a carriage and pair of my very own.’

Feeling slightly dazed, Irene stared down at mother and child with a sense of awe. A few minutes ago her sister had been crying out in
agony
, but now all that appeared to have been forgotten. Despite the tumbled curls clinging damply to her forehead, Emmie looked serenely lovely and blissfully content as she gazed at the tiny scrap of humanity clasped to her breast. Irene backed away towards the door. Suddenly she felt like an intruder. The midwife was busy clearing away the soiled sheets and Dr Telford had his back to them as he packed his instruments away in a leather bag. Irene left the room and went slowly down the stairs, holding on to the banister rail for support. Her knees seemed to have turned to jelly and she did not know whether to laugh or to cry.

She burst into the drawing room but came to a halt when she realised that Ma and Jim were not alone. Josiah and his sons were standing in a group by the fireplace in deep conversation with Jim, while Ma perched on the edge of the sofa, pale-faced and anxious. She turned her head to give Irene a pleading look. ‘Renie?’

Irene ran to her and clasped her mother’s gnarled fingers in her hands. ‘It’s all over, Ma. Emmie has a beautiful baby girl and they are both doing well.’

Josiah uttered a strangled cry of relief and rushed for the door. ‘I must go to her.’ He hesitated, turning his head to give Irene a dazed
look
. ‘You are welcome to stay to dinner, Irene. All is forgiven on this wonderful day.’ He left the room without waiting for a response.

‘Well, aren’t you the lucky one?’ Erasmus said, curling his lip. ‘You’ve got off lightly, Miss Irene.’

Ephraim nodded in agreement. ‘You are fortunate indeed. If it were not for the happy event I doubt if Father would have been so forgiving.’

Sparked into retaliation, Irene glared at him. ‘I am not the wrongdoer as your brother well knows, Ephraim. And I doubt if either of you would be so complacent if my sister had produced a son instead of a daughter.’

‘Renie, don’t,’ Clara cried.

‘Leave my sister alone,’ Jim said angrily. ‘I know the full story and neither of you come out of it well.’

‘You’ve only heard her version,’ Erasmus said, smirking. ‘She’s a strumpet and a liar.’

Jim squared up to him. ‘And you, sir, are a rake and a libertine. I would take great pleasure in flooring you, but I would not wish to upset my mother or sister by a display of fisticuffs.’