Cinderella Sister (37 page)

She had had plenty of time to think since she had been forced to leave her family in Cock Hill, and she realised that all their current troubles had begun with the fire at Bell Wharf. The arrival of the injured Frenchman in their midst had started a chain of events that had led them to the dire straits in which they now found themselves, and from which it seemed there was no happy ending. She had fallen headlong in love with Armand, but so had Nell and Molly. If he were to choose her above her sisters there would be even more heartache and sorrow heaped upon her suffering family. She closed her eyes, conjuring up a vision of herself and Armand, arm in arm, walking down the aisle with Nell and Molly as her bridesmaids. The church was cold and the light subdued but as they stepped outside into the sunshine and she looked up into her new husband’s face – it was not Armand looking down at her with an adoring expression. Her breath caught in her throat and she opened her eyes with a start. She glanced anxiously at Gabriel but his attention was fixed on keeping Charlotte from slipping off the seat as the carriage swung into Houndsditch.

Lily turned her head to stare out of the window in an attempt to clear her mind of disturbing thoughts and visions. She loved Armand; of course she did. She could not be so fickle in her feelings that she had given
her heart to another man. Could she? She took deep breaths, inhaling the familiar scents of the Orient, the Spice Islands and the West Indies that wafted from the warehouses through the open carriage window. She knew now that they were close to the river. She had grown up with the aroma of exotic spices, rum and molasses and the toffee-like smell of raw tobacco emanating from the ships tied up alongside the wharves. The fragrances, then as now, were adulterated by chimney smoke, soot, sewage and stinking river mud. Like all her memories of the past, this one was bittersweet but achingly familiar, and made her yearn for days gone by when life had seemed so simple.

The pounding of the horse’s hooves slowed and came to a halt. Lily could see a tall building shored up with wooden struts and she hoped that this was not the haven that Gabriel had promised them, but then, with a feeling of relief, she realised that it was the back of a pub and the sign above the door bore the legend The Nag’s Head.

‘We’re here,’ Gabriel said, opening the door and stepping out onto the pavement. Having helped Lily alight from the carriage, he produced a large iron key from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. ‘It’s the first house on the left; the one with the gas lamp on the wall.’

She paused for a moment, taking in her surroundings. Her first impression was of loud noise emanating from the pub. She could hear the scraping of a bow across the strings of a fiddle, and someone bawling the words of a popular song as they attempted to make
themselves heard above the din of raised voices, laughter and the clink of glasses and pewter tankards. A burly sailor lurched out of the door on a gust of warm air laden with the smell of ale, strong liquor and tobacco smoke. He staggered past Lily, touching his cap as he made his unsteady way towards the docks.

Following the direction that Gabriel had indicated, Lily realised that the house in Cock and Hoop Yard was the first in a terrace of three-storey dwellings set around a narrow courtyard. The gaslight mounted on the end wall of what was to be their new home illuminated a neat frontage with a mansard roof and a door facing the street painted green to match the shutters on the downstairs window. The house looked small and friendly despite the raffish neighbourhood. Lily put the key in the lock and it groaned and grated, refusing at first to turn, but with a little effort she managed to open the door. It was dark inside and she caught her breath as the stale smell of dust, soot and cold cooking fat assailed her nostrils. A spider’s web brushed her face and caught on the brim of her bonnet like a veil. With a shudder she brushed it away, hoping that the spider was not lurking somewhere in its depths. She stood aside as Gabriel carried Charlotte into the house.

‘Too much laudanum, I think,’ he said cheerfully. ‘At least she’s quiet now.’

‘I can’t see a thing,’ Lily whispered. She was afraid to speak loudly in case her voice summoned up the ghost of some past occupant who resented their intrusion.

‘Feel in my pocket,’ Gabriel said, shifting Charlotte so that she was draped over his shoulder. ‘I’ve some vestas and a couple of candles which I thought might come in useful.’

Lily found what she was looking for and lit one of the candles, holding it above her head as she took in her new surroundings. Charlotte moaned and made a vague movement of her hands as if protesting at being held upside down, although she was not fully conscious.

‘Lead the way upstairs,’ Gabriel said softly. ‘I checked with the landlord and the rooms are furnished after a fashion, but at least there are beds, and Prissy is following with the bedding.’

‘I’m here,’ Prissy called from the doorway. ‘The cabby is helping me in with the things but he wants paying afore you disappear.’

Gabriel turned to Lily with a grin. ‘My pocket again, Lily. The other side this time.’

Lily found the leather pouch, which was reassuringly heavy, and she gave Prissy enough to pay the cab fare with a generous tip. Leaving her capable young maid to organise the luggage, Lily led the way upstairs. Their footsteps echoed loudly on the bare treads, creating the impression that the small house was filled with a marching band of ghostly entities. Lily shivered. It seemed even colder inside than out. Something furry ran across her feet, and she stifled a scream, but she continued upwards determined not to be beaten by the cold and dark. In the morning things would look much better, she thought, hopefully. Tomorrow
she would laugh at her unfounded fears. She reached the first landing. ‘Which room, Gabriel?’

‘I don’t know, try the door opposite. There are only two bedrooms on this floor but there is another one in the attic.’

Lily opened the door and a cry of terror was ripped from her throat as she saw what appeared to be a small man slumped face down on the floor.

‘What’s the matter?’ Gabriel demanded, pushing past her.

‘It’s a tiny man. I think he’s dead.’ Lily could barely frame the words.

Gabriel’s laughter ricocheted off the ceiling, coming back to taunt him. ‘Heavens no, Lily. Can’t you see? It’s a marionette?’ He crossed the bare boards to move the object with the toe of his shoe.

Lily uttered a squeak of dismay, unconvinced until she saw the gaping wooden mouth and staring glass eyes of the puppet, and the strings that dangled from each of its limbs. ‘What is it doing here?’

‘Didn’t I tell you? The landlord is a magician and a puppeteer. He used to live here but he owns the house next door and when the last tenant moved out Magnus the Magnificent moved in.’

‘I’ve never seen one of these before,’ Lily said, breathing a sigh of relief.

‘Well, you have now.’ Gabriel stepped over the grinning and slightly grisly-looking wooden caricature of a man and carried Charlotte to the bed, where he laid her down. ‘We’ll return his property first thing in the morning. I suggest we unpack only what we need for
tonight, and I’ll go to the pie and eel shop in Houndsditch and get us some supper.’

Lily stepped over the lifeless puppet and went to the bed. She brushed a lock of hair back from her mother’s damp forehead with a sigh. ‘I hope she’ll feel better in the morning. She’s lost without Everard.’

Gabriel paused in the doorway. ‘I gave this address to the prison officials, but I plan to go there first thing tomorrow to make sure my father is being treated properly, and to find out how much it will take to gain his release.’ He stepped outside onto the small landing, calling to Prissy. ‘Bring a coverlet for Mrs Faulkner, please, Prissy. We don’t want her to catch a chill.’

‘Thank you,’ Lily whispered to his shadowy form as he descended the stairs. ‘Thank you for everything, Gabriel.’

That night Lily and Prissy shared the back bedroom. Lily took the single iron bedstead and Prissy curled up on the truckle bed. Despite the noise from the pub Lily fell into a deep sleep. When she awakened next morning she thought for a moment she was back in Cock Hill, but as she stretched and her eyes became accustomed to the gloom she realised that the person snoring in the other bed was Prissy and not Molly. It was bitterly cold in the room and she realised how spoilt she had been in Keppel Street with a fire lit before she awakened and clean clothes laid out ready for her. She reached for her wrap and slipped it about her shoulders before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She shivered as her bare feet touched the ice-cold oilcloth that
covered the floorboards. There were no warm slippers or a cup of hot chocolate to keep her going until breakfast, but she had been brought up without such luxuries and she could manage perfectly well without them.

Taking care not to awaken Prissy, Lily lifted the latch on the door and crossed the narrow landing to her mother’s room. Charlotte’s bedcovers were in disarray as if she had tossed and turned all night, but she seemed peaceful enough now, and for that Lily was grateful. She tiptoed out of the room and was halfway down the stairs when she was startled by a loud rapping on the front door. Outside in the street she could hear the steady tramp of hobnail boots as men trudged to work on the docks and wharves. The clatter of horses’ hooves was accompanied by the rumbling of cartwheels and the shouts of costermongers as they hauled their barrows towards the market in Petticoat Lane.

‘Oy, open up in there,’ a man’s voice demanded as he thumped again on the door.

Lily hurried to answer his summons before he woke the whole house. She opened the door a crack, peering out anxiously. ‘Who’s there?’

‘It’s me, Magnus, your landlord. Open up, young lady.’

Clutching her wrap around her, Lily stood aside as he entered the hallway, filling it with his bulk. He took off his bowler hat revealing a bald head somewhat at variance with his luxuriant set of mutton chop whiskers and curling black moustache. ‘Good morning, miss. Magnus the Magnificent at your service.’

‘Good morning, Mr Magnus,’ Lily murmured, eyeing him warily. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I apologise for the early morning call, my dear. But I left something of mine in the house and I have an early start today. We, my little friends and I, are travelling to Chelsea this morning. We are giving a performance at Cremorne Gardens.’

‘Oh, you mean the puppet. I thought for a moment it was a tiny man lying dead on the floor.’ Lily’s giggle died on her lips as she realised that she had said the wrong thing.

Magnus glared at her, wide-eyed with affront. ‘Do not speak about my children in that disparaging tone, my good woman. Where is my boy?’

‘I’m sorry, I mean, I thought …’

‘My little friends are real to me, miss. How else would I create a world in which others can believe if I myself were not wholly sincere?’

Lily made a move towards the front parlour where Gabriel had left the puppet dangling from the mantelshelf. ‘I’ll fetch it, I mean him, if you’ll give me a moment.’

But Magnus did not seem to be in a patient mood and he strode past Lily, entering the parlour and uttering a cry of dismay. ‘My poor boy, Charlie. What have they done to you?’ Stepping over the pile of boxes and baggage that had been brought from Keppel Street, Magnus lifted the dangling puppet from the mantelshelf as tenderly as if it were a living thing. ‘There, there, Charlie. My poor little fellow, did you think your pa had abandoned you?’

‘I’ve heard about Cremorne Gardens,’ Lily said in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the marionette. ‘It must be a splendid place.’

Cradling the puppet in his arm, Magnus turned to her and his expression softened. He twirled his waxed moustache with the tip of his thumb and forefinger. ‘We are frequently asked to entertain there. You must come and see my act. I will tell your brother that he must bring you one evening.’

Lily did not bother to correct him. She sensed that their new landlord would not take kindly to her sharing the house with a man to whom she was not related. ‘Thank you, I’d like that.’

‘Just mention my name at the gate,’ Magnus said airily. ‘If they don’t let you in for nothing I’ll eat my hat.’ He swanned out of the room, setting his bowler back on his head with a dramatic gesture. ‘I’ll take my leave of you now, miss. The rent is due on Friday.’ He let himself out of the house, murmuring apologies to Charlie for abandoning him to people who did not know how to treat an artiste of his calibre. Lily hurried to lock the door, but just as she was about to turn the key, someone outside crashed on the knocker. Thinking it was Magnus she opened the door to find a policeman standing on the pavement.

‘Is this the residence of Mr Faulkner?’

Lily’s mouth went dry. His serious expression frightened her and her heart began to race.

Had they taken something from the house in Keppel Street that did not belong to them? It would have been easy to make a mistake during their hurried departure. Lily eyed the young constable warily. ‘Is something wrong?’

He took a notebook from his pocket and flipped through the pages. ‘I’m looking for Mr Gabriel Faulkner, miss. Does he or does he not reside at this address?’

Lily hesitated. If Gabriel was in some kind of trouble she ought to warn him, but she could see by his set expression that the policeman was not going to be fobbed off easily. The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her turn her head. Gabriel’s smile faded as he saw the police officer standing on the doorstep. ‘Is there anything wrong, constable?’

‘May I come in, sir?’ The policeman took his helmet off and tucked it under his arm, stepping over the threshold as Gabriel motioned him to enter.

Lily closed the door. Something bad had happened; she sensed trouble. The police never turned up on a person’s doorstep bearing good tidings.

The constable cleared his throat. ‘Are you Mr Gabriel Faulkner, sir?’

‘I am he.’

‘Then I’ve got some bad news for you, sir. Perhaps we could speak in private?’ He shot a meaningful glance in Lily’s direction.