A Mother's Secret (33 page)

‘We’re being very selfish, George,’ Belinda said guiltily. She forced herself to move from the shelter of his arm and made her way towards the door. ‘We must join the others and try to behave naturally.’

He followed her, catching hold of her hand before she reached the hallway. He gave her fingers a squeeze. ‘It won’t be easy, but you’re right, my love. Perhaps we could spend tomorrow together?’

She paused in the hallway, smiling up at him. ‘That would be lovely.’

‘I’ll call for you at ten o’clock.’

The clock on the mantelshelf struck the quarter as Belinda waited by the parlour window, barely able to control her excitement as she waited for Cade’s barouche to arrive. She was alone in the house except for Mrs Wilkins. Flora had elected to stay on at the farm, ostensibly to help Farmer Mullins sort out his chaotic bookkeeping, although in her heightened emotional state Belinda was beginning to suspect that there might be a romance budding between the oddly assorted pair. Oliver, Bailey and Cassy had already left the house, taking Freddie with them. They planned, Oliver had said, to collect Lottie on the way to Victoria Park where the lake was reputedly frozen hard enough to allow them to skate. Tomorrow they would be embarking on a ship taking them to India but today they intended to enjoy themselves to the full.

Belinda wished that she had been able to get Cassy on her own for a heart to heart, but there had been no opportunity during the Christmas celebrations at the farm, and Cassy had retired to bed as soon as they returned home. She had been quiet during breakfast, and had left with the others as soon as the meal was finished. Mrs Wilkins had said she was glad of a chance to put her feet up all day and do nothing. She had enjoyed herself immensely during her day out, but her bunions were playing up something chronic after joining in the dancing, accompanied by Dora on the harpsichord. Belinda closed her eyes, reliving the moments when George had held her in his arms as they waltzed around Farmer Mullins’ parlour. She had been in heaven then and now she felt like a young girl, waiting for her beau to take her out for the day. Only this time there would be no chaperone to accompany them and George was no longer just a beau; he was the husband of her heart if not in law.

She gazed at the snowy scene outside. The houses opposite snuggled beneath roofs blanketed by pure white snow, and the pavements glistened in the pale morning sunlight. The dreary, dirty street had been transformed into a vision of pristine purity, but it was an illusion that would not last. By the end of the day, the gleaming surface of the road would be churned to black slush, but at this moment she felt she was in fairyland, and nothing could spoil her joy. She pressed her nose against the ice-cold windowpane and her breath fogged the glass in an instant. Giggling and feeling seventeen again, she drew her initials and George’s entwined together in a heart. Then, at the exact moment the clock struck ten, the barouche drew up alongside the kerb. Snatching up her bonnet and struggling into her merino mantle, Belle hurried from the parlour and ran to open the front door.

He stood there in a caped greatcoat, momentarily blocking out the daylight. ‘Belle, my love.’ Taking off his top hat, he swept her into his arms, kissing her in full view of the neighbours across the street who had come out to take a closer look at the expensive equipage driven by a coachman in a many-caped greatcoat.

Laughing, she pulled free, adjusting her bonnet. ‘George, you’ll have the whole street talking about us.’

He handed her out across the pavement and into the barouche, climbing in beside her. ‘I want them to see us together,’ he said, wrapping her in a fond embrace. ‘I want the world to know that you and I will soon be husband and wife, never to be parted. That’s what you want, isn’t it, my love?’

She snuggled against him. ‘Of course it is, but I want Cassy to get used to the idea before we rush into anything. She needs to get to know you, my darling, and to love you as I do.’

‘She’s our daughter and she must come first, but today is ours, my darling Belle.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘I want to show you my house, which will be our home but only if you approve. If not we’ll sell it and buy something more suitable. I’d like you to see the soldiers’ home too, and meet some of the men who live there. They loved Cassy and I know they’ll adore you too.’

Cade’s house was situated in Lemon’s Terrace, Stepney Green, just a short way from the soldiers’ home. Belinda was ready to be impressed as she alighted outside the once elegant but slightly dilapidated three-storey, double-fronted Georgian town house. Iron railings surrounded the area leading down to the basement, and stone steps led up to the front door, where a sadly tarnished brass lion’s head doorknocker gazing soulfully into space. Cade took the steps two at a time in order to unlock the door and usher Belinda into the square entrance hall. She did not know what she was expecting as she stepped inside but she was surprised by the echoing emptiness of the large house. It smelt slightly damp and it was almost as cold inside as it was out on the pavement.

‘I haven’t done much to the house since I moved in four years ago,’ Cade said apologetically. ‘I don’t spend much time here and I’m afraid I’ve concentrated all my efforts on the soldiers’ home.’ He took off his top hat and hung it on the newel post at the foot of a sweeping cantilevered staircase that was also in a sad state of repair. The mahogany banister rail was muddy with greasy fingerprints and the treads were dusty and in need of a good polish.

‘Come into the drawing room,’ Cade said, eyeing her warily. ‘I had Mrs Porter light a fire early this morning so it should be a bit warmer in there.’ As he opened a door on the far side of the hall the doorknob came away in his hand. ‘As you can see there is a bit of work to do on the old house.’

He looked so downcast that Belinda struggled to find an encouraging remark. ‘It must have been a fine home when it was built.’ She had already lost the feeling in her toes and her fingertips were tingling from the cold, and she made her way to the marble fireplace where the coal burned feebly, sending out occasional belches of smoke and filling the air with smuts. It barely took the chill off the large room, which was light and would be pleasantly airy in summer. The floor to ceiling windows were draped with faded velvet curtains which might once have been a delightful shade of blue, but were now grey with age and brown-tinged with dust blown in from the street. The only furniture was a slightly saggy sofa and a wingback chair set close to the fireplace. Placed beneath one of the windows a console table groaned with papers, magazines and a jumble of books.

‘It needs a woman’s touch,’ Cade said sheepishly. ‘But the rooms are well proportioned and . . .’ He hesitated, gazing at her with a frown puckering his brow. ‘You hate it, don’t you?’

Belinda threw back her head and laughed. ‘Of course I don’t hate it, George. It’s just going to take a small army of women to clean it and a great deal of money to refurbish it, to say nothing of the cost of carpets and new furniture. Perhaps we should sell it and get something smaller and cheaper to renovate.’

Cade took her in his arms, answering her with a kiss that robbed her of speech and sent the blood thundering through her veins. ‘My darling, you can have anything you want. Money isn’t a problem; I’m a comparative wealthy man.’

Confused, Belinda gazed up at him. ‘But how? I don’t understand.’

Shrugging off his overcoat, he tugged at a rather tatty bell pull by the fireplace. ‘I’ll get Mrs Porter to bring us some tea, if she bothers to answer the bell, that is. I’m afraid I inherited her with the house but she has a weakness for jigger gin and laudanum, and is probably the worst cook in the world. I’d sack her but the poor soul would end up on the streets, and so I take most of my meals at the home.’

Taking off her bonnet, Belinda sank down on the sofa, avoiding a hole where the horsehair stuffing protruded in a tangled mass. ‘You really do need someone to look after you, and you still haven’t told me how you managed to make your fortune after you left the army.’ She shivered as she watched her breath curl up in a cloud with every spoken word, and she hugged her mantle a little closer around her chilled body. ‘I think my first task will be to find a chimney sweep and to order coal enough to fill the cellar.’

Cade rang the bell again with an exclamation of annoyance. ‘I’ll go below stairs and see what she’s doing,’ he said, making for the door.

‘I’m coming with you.’ Belinda stood up again, glad for an excuse to move away from the hideously uncomfortable sofa. At least walking about would keep her warm, and she was curious to see the rest of the house.

The basement kitchen was in semi-darkness. A desultory fire burned in the range, which had not been cleaned since the turn of the century, or so Belinda thought as she gazed around the room. Considering that it was the place where food was stored and prepared, the kitchen was surprisingly empty and unnaturally tidy. There was not a pot or a pan to be seen and even the mice seemed to have moved out to find a better home. Mrs Porter was sprawled in a chair by the range with her booted feet propped up on a three-legged stool. Her mouth was open and her chins sagged onto her bosom, which rose and fell with each loud snore. On the floor by her side lay an empty stone bottle, which had presumably contained the spirits that had lulled her into the arms of Morpheus. The smell of stale alcohol, sour milk and rancid fat made Belinda cover her mouth and nose with her hand.

Cade stared dispassionately at his housekeeper and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dead to the world,’ he said, lifting the blackened kettle off the hob. ‘Boiled dry,’ he added, shaking his head. ‘I think we’ll forget the tea. The chaps in the home have a constant brew on the go. I made certain that there were two large water boilers when we had the new range installed.’ He strode to the door and held it open. ‘Best leave the old girl to sleep it off.’

Hand in hand they ascended the staircase to the ground floor. ‘This isn’t a good first impression,’ Cade said regretfully. ‘I wanted you to like the house, Belle. But I understand if you think it’s past saving.’

She smiled up at him, knowing that she might regret her decision tomorrow, but she could deny him nothing, and she was ready to take up the challenge. ‘It’s a splendid house, George. It just needs a little love and a lot of hard work. We’ll make it into a wonderful home, but I’d like Cassy to see it before we make any firm decision.’

‘I love you, Belle. Have I told you that recently?’

‘Not for the last five minutes, my darling.’

He swept her into his arms as if to prove a point. ‘Now then, where were we? I know, I was showing you round our new home. I’m afraid the dining room is a bit of a mess, and the morning parlour leaves a lot to be desired. As to the bedrooms, well I’ve only used one and that isn’t a fit sight for a lady’s eyes.’

‘I think I can bear it, George,’ Belinda said stoutly.

He led her into the morning parlour where the wallpaper was hanging off in shreds and the paintwork peeling. The grate was filled with soot and rubble and the windows were fogged with dirt. ‘You see what I mean, Belle? This isn’t a job for the fainthearted.’

‘I’m a soldier’s daughter, George. And you’re a rich man, so you say. Or is that a story you’ve made up to lure an innocent woman into matrimony?’ Angling her head she smiled mischievously. ‘I’d still love you, even if you’d robbed a bank.’

He leaned against the mantelshelf, kicking at the burnt remains of a log and sending a shower of ash onto the hearth. ‘I was discharged from the army as being medically unfit, and I’d lost you. I really didn’t care what happened to me. I had some discharge pay and I travelled about India for a while, searching for something although I didn’t know what. My money ran out and I found myself in Bombay, penniless and destitute. I remembered visiting my grandfather’s house when I was a child. My father took me there only once before he sent me to school in England. I was desperate and my fever had returned. I remember very little of the first few weeks after I had been taken in. My grandfather was very old and not a well man, but it turned out that I was his only heir. My uncles had produced daughters who were all married off to wealthy men and had already received generous dowries. During my long convalescence I became close to my grandfather and I was with him when he died. He was a wealthy man and he left me everything.’

‘And yet you chose to return to England?’

‘I had to find you. Even if I couldn’t have you, I wanted to be close to you. I thought if I could see you now and again it would heal the rift in my heart, but on the occasions when I did see you with your husband I found it was too painful to bear. Eventually I gave up, until as I told you I heard of Sir Geoffrey’s death, and then it seemed that I was too late. I had no idea where you’d gone and I thought I’d lost you forever.’

She walked into his arms. ‘But we’re together now, thanks to our daughter. Who would have thought we’d have a happy ending?’

He held her close. ‘Now all we have to do is to convince Cassy.’

‘She’s your flesh and blood, George. Give her time and she’ll come to love you.’ Belinda shivered. ‘But could we go somewhere warmer? I’m freezing.’

Late that afternoon as the carriage stopped outside the house in Pedlar’s Orchard, Belinda left the shelter of Cade’s embrace with the greatest reluctance. She blew him a kiss as she hesitated in the doorway, waving until the barouche turned the corner and was out of sight.

‘So you’ve been with him all day.’ Cassy’s voice was as brittle as the icicles that hung from the area railings.