Cinderella Sister (47 page)

Lily attempted to follow him but Mark barred the way. ‘Let him go, Lil,’ he said softly. ‘He ain’t worth it. Like father, like son. You’re one of us again. Don’t spoil it.’

‘But he’s injured,’ Lily sobbed. ‘He needs someone to look after him.’ She broke free from Mark’s restraining hands, facing her brothers with tears running down her cheeks. ‘He saved Molly’s life, you idiots. And I love him.’ She made for the door but Matt slammed it shut, leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest.

‘No, Lily. It won’t do. I’m not having my sister running off to live with an artist. You’ll stay here even if I have to tie you to a chair.’

She turned to Nell who had emerged from the parlour, her face pale with anxiety. ‘Tell him he can’t do this to me, Nell.’

‘Matt’s right,’ Nell said slowly. ‘And Eugene would say the same thing.’

‘Damn Eugene,’ Lily cried passionately. ‘And damn you all for treating me like this.’ She pushed past Nell, making her way into the kitchen where she flung herself into her mother’s arms. ‘Ma, tell them they can’t do this to me. I love Gabriel and he loves me.’

Charlotte stroked Lily’s tumbled hair back from her forehead. ‘My darling, I know how you feel, I really do, but I think Matt’s right in this. You should stay here with us and give Gabriel time to sort out his finances and find a home for you …’

‘But we have a home. There’s the house in Cock and Hoop Yard. We were happy there, Ma.’

Prissy laid her hand on Lily’s shoulder. ‘We don’t have it now. I went to collect our clothes and someone else was living there. So I went round to see Mad Maggie and she told me that Gabriel had only paid a week’s rent in advance. When we left all of a sudden they didn’t know what had happened and they let the house to a juggler, his missis and seven nippers who are all part of their stage act.’

‘You must understand that I’m only looking after your interests, Lily.’ Matt had come into the kitchen unnoticed by her. She could not bring herself to look at him. She had to hold back the bitter words that filled her mouth like bile.

‘And a fine way you chose to do it,’ Prissy said, shaking her head. ‘You men are all the same, you think with your fists. Can’t you see that the poor girl’s in love? Ain’t you got no heart, Matt Larkin?’

Lily held her breath. If anyone else had taken that tone with Matt they would have been cut down to size, but he eyed Prissy warily, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

‘I did it for the best,’ he murmured.

‘You fly off the handle and then regret it.’ Prissy wagged her finger at him. ‘I think you should apologise to Lily, and to Gabriel when you see him next. He intends to do the right thing by her; it’s not history repeating itself and you’ve got to put the past behind you. This is now and then was then.’

Charlotte released Lily with a gentle pat on the cheek. ‘Prissy’s right, Matt. Give him time to put his house in order.’

Matt shuffled his feet, looking for all the world like a small boy caught stealing jam tarts from the pantry. ‘There’s already been talk. Lily’s name has been bandied round the docks. She’s left us open to the local gossips.’

‘Let them talk all they like,’ Prissy declared stoutly. ‘Words can’t hurt us if we stick together. Now go and wash that dirt off your face, Matt Larkin. I ain’t sitting down to eat with a sweep.’ She shooed him out through the scullery into the yard.

Lily stared after them in disbelief. ‘Am I imagining things or did Prissy just take Matt in hand?’

‘Love is a wonderful thing, darling,’ Charlotte said, opening the oven door and lifting out a pie with a tempting golden crust. ‘Call the others in for their dinner, Lily. We’ll eat like a civilised family for once.’ She paused as she placed the steaming dish on the table. ‘And don’t look so tragic. Gabriel won’t let you down, he’s too much like his dear father, and Matt will come round given time. Just wait and see.’

‘I haven’t much choice, it seems.’ Lily wiped her eyes on her sleeve and went into the parlour, where she found the rest of her family waiting in silence. Grandpa Larkin scuttled towards her, holding out his hands and beaming.

‘My little Lily. I just got in from the pub and they told me you’d come home. Don’t take no notice of Matt, we’re all on your side.’ He shot a warning glance at Mark. ‘And don’t you say nothing to upset the girl. Just stop and think how you’d feel if old Cobbold said you couldn’t see young Flossie ever again.’

Mark met Lily’s gaze with an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry,
Lil. It’s just that we don’t want to see you hurt. After Ma getting all tangled up with them arty folks it’s no wonder Matt behaved as he did.’

Nell rose to her feet, holding her hand out to Lily. ‘We all love you, Lily. We just want you to be happy.’

‘Like me and Armand,’ Molly said, smiling up at Armand and tucking her hand through the crook of his arm. ‘We’re going to be married as soon as possible.’

‘So how will you support a wife now that you’ve been sacked by that libertine of a father?’ Grandpa demanded.

‘I have contacts in London,’ Armand replied calmly. ‘I had already been offered a position as manager in a rival shipping company here in London before I proposed to Molly. I didn’t say anything at the time because I had a feeling my papa would react badly. I hoped and still hope that Papa will come round in time, but I will accept the job now. Molly and I will be comfortable enough.’

‘Shall I have a carriage and pair then, Armand?’ Molly’s eyes shone. ‘And new gowns and a hat with feathers and flowers on it?’

‘In time,
ma chérie
, but for now we will have to live in the small house I bought some time ago in Cinnamon Street.’

‘Do you hear that, Lily? I’m to have my very own house. You shall come and visit me and take tea with me in my parlour.’ Molly did a little dance, twirling round on her toes and clapping her hands.

‘But what about this house?’ Lily asked anxiously. ‘Your father owns it and he won’t hesitate to throw my family out on the street.’

Armand shook his head. ‘No, Lily. I bought the freehold of this old place myself some years ago. I leased it to my father’s business, but that expired some time ago. It is mine and I give it to Molly’s family with all my heart.’

Prissy stuck her head round the door. ‘Grub’s up. The missis says come and get it while it’s hot and no nonsense at the table.’

Although it was the last thing she wanted, Lily had no option other than to live at home, helping her mother and Aggie with the household chores, and listening to Molly chattering about her forthcoming wedding. Armand had posted the banns at St Peter’s Church and he had taken up his new appointment with a company that plied its trade between London and the Caribbean islands. He had returned to his house in Cinnamon Street, and when Molly was not attending the dressmaker for fittings for her wedding gown she was busy choosing curtains and furnishings for her new home. Lily accompanied her on these trips to warehouses and markets, and although a three-bedroom house in Cinnamon Street was not the same as a mansion in a fashionable part of Paris, Molly did not seem to mind.

Lily was happy for her sister, but as the days went by with no sign of Gabriel, her heart ached and she was secretly afraid that there would be no place for her in his new life. Using Silly Sally as an unlikely go-between, Gabriel sent loving notes keeping Lily informed of his movements. He was lodging with Magnus the Magnificent and Mad Maggie, but rarely at home as
invitations to meet prominent people in the art world flooded in. The newspapers were filled with praise for his work and Sir Cloudesley, who had previously been better known in the gaming clubs than in the world of art and culture, had earned a reputation as the man who had discovered the fresh new talent that was taking the art world by storm. There were words of praise from members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood which Lily was eager to show her mother. Charlotte pored over the articles which mentioned the friends she and Everard had welcomed to their home in Keppel Street. If she was envious she did not allow it to show, and she seemed content to remain quietly at home, getting to know the children she had once abandoned. Lily felt for her mother, and she took solace from the time they spent together sketching and painting. Charlotte had been earning a little money by drawing portraits of local children, for which she charged a few pennies.

‘You are wasting your talents, Ma,’ Lily said one afternoon as she examined a charcoal sketch of Silly Sally who had called with yet another note from Gabriel. Aggie had taken the girl under her wing, insisting that the poor creature needed feeding up. Sally needed no second bidding and was a willing sitter. Her wild curls and gamine features made her an appealing subject, and it was one of these drawings that particularly caught Lily’s eye. She was holding it up to the light in the window when she saw a familiar figure approaching the house. She ran to open the door.

‘Christian, what brings you here?’

He doffed his bowler hat with a flourish. ‘I came to see how my Lily in the Flames is doing.’ He put his hand in his breast pocket and took out a battered envelope. ‘Gabriel sent this for you, my duck. It’s an invitation to the private viewing of the exhibition.’

Lily took it with trembling fingers. ‘Why didn’t he bring it himself? I want to see him.’

‘He didn’t want to cause any further upset with your family, but he said to tell you that the first of the banns has been called, and that he loves you more than life itself.’ Christian pulled a face. ‘There, I’ve said it. I’m an unlikely Cupid, but it was sincerely meant. He’s making plans for your future together, Lily. He’s determined to win your brothers over, so he begs you to be patient, and I’m to take you to the exhibition tomorrow, if you’ll come with me.’

‘He will be there, though?’

‘Of course he will, ducks. He’s doing all this for you.’

Lily knew that what Christian said was true but a niggling doubt refused to go away. If Gabriel loved her so desperately, would he not have tried harder to see her? She tucked the invitation into her pocket,
holding the door open wide. ‘Come inside and meet Ma. I’m sure she’d love to see you.’

Tucking his hat beneath his arm, Christian walked past her and went into the parlour where he stopped, staring at Charlotte. He bowed from the waist. ‘You must be Lily’s older sister, ma’am.’

Charlotte looked up and her face was wreathed in smiles. ‘You flatter me, sir. I’m Charlotte Faulkner; my late husband was Gabriel’s father.’

‘Christian Smith, reporter for the
Daily Globe
. No flattery intended,’ Christian said with apparent sincerity. ‘If you’ll pardon my saying so, ma’am, I can see where Lily gets both her looks and her talent. Gabriel has told me that she’s an accomplished artist in her own right, as I see you are, ma’am.’

‘Oh, he’s a one,’ Sally giggled. ‘What about me, mister?’

He struck a pose. ‘You are a princess amongst women, miss. A veritable Helen of Troy whose face launched a thousand ships.’

Sally shot an anxious glance at Lily. ‘Does he mean me face is all smashed up? I mean, if it’s been bashed against the side of ships …’

Lily placed her arm around Sally’s thin shoulders. ‘He means you’re very pretty, Sally. Helen of Troy was a great beauty.’

‘Oh,’ she murmured, mollified. ‘That’s the ticket then.’

‘May I ask why you’re here, Mr Smith?’ Charlotte asked, dimpling. ‘We get so few visitors these days.’

‘He brought me an invitation to attend the viewing of Gabriel’s work, Ma,’ Lily said hastily, before Christian could turn anyone else’s head with his sweet
talk. ‘Christian is the one who started the whole thing with his article about Lily in the Flames.’

Charlotte rose to her feet, scattering charcoal all over the floor. She held out both hands. ‘Then I have you to thank for reuniting me with my dear daughter, and subsequently with my whole family. You don’t know how much it’s meant to me, Mr Smith.’

He took her right hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Glad to have been of some small service to a beautiful lady. And I hope you will accept my condolences for your tragic loss. I covered the story of Mr Faulkner’s death for my paper.’

Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears which, Lily noted with a wry smile, made them appear larger and more luminous, unlike ordinary mortals whose eyes might redden or their noses start to run when they cried. No one, she thought, would think that her mother was in her forties, or that she had borne six children. Her figure was voluptuous but shapely and her face amazingly unlined, but perhaps that was because Ma never let anything worry her. She was flirting openly with Christian, and although Lily did not doubt her mother’s genuine love for Everard, she could see that Ma’s broken heart was mending nicely. She left them to entertain each other while she went outside to sit on the wharf and reread the gilt-edged invitation and Gabriel’s note.

Dangling her legs over the wall with the Thames lapping gently a few feet below, and the sounds of the river all around her, she immersed herself in the words written from Gabriel’s heart.

‘Lily, for goodness’ sake get up.’

She looked up, startled by Nell’s crisp voice. ‘I’m not doing any harm, Nell.’

Nell was leaning on Eugene’s arm, shaking her head. ‘You’re too old to behave like that. Come inside before Matt comes home and sees you showing your petticoats for all the common sailors to see.’

Eugene patted her hand. ‘She’s having a quiet moment, my dear. I can understand that in a household the size of yours such time is precious.’

‘I suppose you’re right, Eugene.’ Nell’s face lit with a smile as she looked up into his eyes. ‘Will you come in for a cup of tea?’

‘I most certainly will. I have something very particular to ask Matt and your grandfather.’

Lily looked up into his face, startled by the tender tone in his voice, and she could see that Nell’s ivory pallor had deepened to blush rose. ‘Why you sly old thing, Nell,’ she cried, leaping to her feet. ‘You never said a word.’

‘It’s not official – I mean, he hasn’t exactly asked me yet.’ Nell broke off in a state of confusion.

‘Quite so,’ Eugene said seriously. ‘Did you mention a cup of tea, dearest?’