Cinderella Sister (8 page)

‘Here he is,’ Matt said, pushing the door open with the toe of his boot. He carried the semi-conscious man across to the bed and laid him down gently. ‘He’s been raving like a lunatic, so chances are he won’t recall a thing. Make him comfortable, Lily, I’ve got work to do.’

‘Where are you going?’ Lily demanded anxiously. ‘What do I do if he wakes up?’

Matt shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know, Lil. Give him some more laudanum, I suppose, only don’t overdo it. Just keep him quiet and Nell will see to him when she gets home. I’ve got to write up my report for the shipping agent, and he is going to contact Labrosse’s father in Dieppe by telegraph.’ Matt’s serious expression melted into a grin. ‘I dunno, Lil, but the wonders of modern science might save us yet.’

She did not feel much like smiling as he left the room. Downstairs she could hear Grandpa’s bell clanging away with the insistence of a fire engine on a shout, and Armand was tossing about on the pillows, muttering feverishly. She braced herself to lift his head gently and hold a glass of water to his lips. This seemed to revive him a little and he opened his eyes. For a moment she thought that he smiled but then he began rambling again and she laid him back on the pillows while she mixed a small dose of laudanum and water. She stayed with him, stroking his hair back from his forehead and speaking softly as she might to a fractious child, until he lapsed into a deep sleep.

When she left the room she found that her legs were shaking. Looking after sick people seemed to come so easily to Nell, but for Lily it was an ordeal. Sympathy for the young Frenchman had overcome her qualms, but she would gladly relinquish her nursing duties to her eldest sister. She hurried downstairs to placate her grandfather who was interspersing the ringing of his bell with pleas for food.

* * *

Later that day, when Grandpa and Aggie were both having their afternoon nap, Lily returned to Armand’s bedside armed with her sketching materials. Her fingers had been itching to capture his likeness on paper, and she knew that she had at least an hour undisturbed. Dr Macpherson had arrived at midday, hoping no doubt to sample some of Aggie’s cooking, but she had not been in a generous mood and he had gone off in a huff, having glanced at the patient and said he was doing as well as could be expected.

Lily settled down to make sketches of the handsome Frenchman. It would have been much easier had he been awake, but perhaps it was better this way. While he slept he did not seem to suffer pain from his burns and his sprained ankle, and when she laid her hand on his forehead he felt cooler to the touch. That must be a good sign.

She worked feverishly, making sketch after sketch. If she had had her paints with her she could have added colour, bringing the drawings to life. She would just have to memorise the soft, thrush’s wing sheen of his hair and the pale olive complexion that she found so fascinating.

She barely noticed the fading light, and she was so absorbed in her task that she did not hear the sound of approaching footsteps until it was too late. Molly burst into the room, causing Lily to drop her pencil and send sheets of paper fluttering to the floor.

‘You’ll cop it if Nell finds out. What d’you think you’re doing anyway? Isn’t it a bit odd sitting there making drawings of the poor bloke when he’s unconscious?
I call it weird. And I don’t know how you can see to draw in this poor light.’

Lily scrambled about on the floor, picking up her drawings. ‘You won’t tell on me, will you?’

‘What’s it worth?’

‘Don’t be mean, Moll. You know I haven’t got anything worth trading.’

Molly tossed her head. ‘You can let me take my turn sitting with Armand.’ She sighed ecstatically. ‘Isn’t that the most wonderful name you’ve ever heard? And he’s filthy rich so Aggie was telling me. His pa is a shipping magnate.’

Lily shuffled her sketches into a pile, rising to her feet and clutching them to her breast. ‘I wouldn’t get any ideas if I were you. Armand Labrosse wouldn’t look twice at girls like us.’

Molly moved round the bed to sit on the chair that Lily had just vacated. ‘We’re as good as any of those rich society females. All they’ve got is money. We’ve got …’ She paused, frowning.

‘Well, you’ve got yellow hands today and a green splodge on your cheek. If he opens his eyes and sees you sitting there he’ll probably die of fright, or think he’s gone to hell.’

Molly jumped up to look in the mirror over the mantelshelf. ‘I can’t see a thing.’ She lit a candle using a spill from the jar in the hearth and took a second look. ‘Damn and blast! I wish I’d been apprenticed to a milliner or a dressmaker. I’m sick to death of coming home looking like a fright.’ She hurried to the washstand and poured water into the bowl, scrubbing her
face with her hands and reaching for the towel that Lily had placed there earlier.

‘That was for Armand,’ Lily protested. ‘Now I’ll have to fetch a clean towel, but you can empty the washbowl since you used the water.’ She glanced over her sister’s shoulder. ‘And it’s all green and yellow. If Nell sees that she’ll know it was you.’

Molly seized the bowl and went to the window, throwing up the sash and tipping the contents into the tiny patch of garden below. ‘There, that’s the evidence gone. It’s up to you to find a clean towel and a jug of fresh water.’ She slammed the window, causing the glass to rattle. ‘And if I’m not going to tell on you, I want one of those likenesses of Armand, and you can fetch me a cup of tea with two sugars.’

‘You are so mean,’ Lily retaliated. ‘Sometimes I hate you, Molly.’

‘And you’d better light the fire in the parlour,’ Molly added, strolling over to the washstand and replacing the bowl. ‘It’s freezing down there and the others will be coming home from work soon.’ She held her hand out. ‘Let me see which one I want.’

Reluctantly, Lily handed over her sketches. ‘Take one then, but don’t show anyone. And I can’t light the fire downstairs because I used the coal for the parlour fire to keep your precious Armand warm.’

Molly was examining the drawing in the candlelight, and she either did not hear Lily’s last remark or she chose to ignore it. She looked up and there was genuine admiration in her eyes. ‘I dunno much about art, Lil, but these are blooming marvellous. You
must do his portrait when he wakes up, and I want the first copy.’

Lily felt herself blushing at this unexpected praise and her anger evaporated. ‘Do you really?’

Molly selected one sketch and handed the rest back to Lily. ‘I certainly do, and I won’t breathe a word to Nell. You are a born artist, my girl. I wish I had half your talent. Now go and make me that cup of tea. I’m going to sit here and dream about being married to this gorgeous man. I can just see myself dripping in diamonds and wearing the latest Paris fashions. No more smelly dyes or listening to old man Jones scolding me.’

As Lily left the room, Molly was still rambling on about the life she would have with the handsome young Frenchman. Lily could well imagine vivacious, irrepressible Molly capturing Armand’s heart. He had only to wake up and look into her sparkling green eyes and see her tumbling locks of flame-coloured hair to fall hopelessly in love. Lily knew that by comparison she was a pale copy of her elder sisters both in looks and in temperament. She had neither Molly’s fire nor Nell’s serene, dark beauty. She was just Lily, the youngest and least important member of a talented, argumentative, temperamental family, and now she was burdened by a dreadful secret which if it came to fruition would tear their lives apart.

That evening, much to Aggie’s annoyance, Matt and Luke remained in the kitchen after supper, sitting at the table playing cards. Mark had braved the rain to go and see Flossie, and Nell had taken a bowl of
broth up to the sickroom to try to tempt Armand to take a little sustenance. Molly and Lily were left to wash the dishes in the scullery. Having completed her part of the task, Molly said she did not want to spend the evening listening to Aggie’s grumbles or watching her brothers gambling, using shirt buttons instead of money. She said she was going to bed early as it was the only way to get a little peace and keep reasonably warm, and she shot a warning glance at Lily as she left the kitchen. Translating this look into words, Lily knew that Molly was going to challenge Nell’s right to be the first of the Larkin sisters Armand would see when the fever cleared from his brain.

Lily occupied herself by tidying the china on the dresser, and when that was done she went into the scullery to fetch her brothers’ wet boots, which they had kicked off when they came home from the fire station. She stuffed the toes with old newspapers and put the boots in front of the fire to dry overnight. She took care not to disturb Aggie, who had fallen asleep with her several chins resting on her chest and her lips vibrating with occasional loud snores.

‘Isn’t it time for Grandpa’s cocoa?’ Matt said, looking up as Lily went past his chair. ‘I’ll have a cup if there’s any to spare.’

‘And me,’ Luke added, throwing down his cards. ‘You’ve got me beaten, Matt. It’s lucky we’re only playing for buttons. I’d be bankrupt if it was money.’

‘And you can put those buttons back in the box when you’ve finished,’ Lily said, ruffling his hair. ‘They cost
money and if you lose them you’ll be going about with your shirts flapping open.’

Matt leaned back in his seat, grinning. ‘You’re a rotten card player, Luke. You’re more likely to make a fortune making up silly rhymes than you would as a gambler.’

‘He writes lovely poetry,’ Lily said, leaping to Luke’s defence. ‘One day he’ll be rich and famous, you’ll see.’

Matt’s smile faded into a frown. ‘We can’t wait that long.’

‘What’s up?’ Luke demanded. ‘You’ve been in a mood all evening, Matt.’

‘Nothing for you to worry about.’ Matt pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. ‘Forget the cocoa, Lil. I’m going for a walk.’

‘Why don’t you wait until the rain stops? Stay in and have a nice hot cup of cocoa?’ Lily said anxiously. She knew that Matt was worried, but getting soaked to the skin and risking pneumonia would not solve any of their problems.

‘Ta, Lil, but I want some fresh air.’ He stooped to pick up his boots and left the room, his stockinged feet padding softly on the floorboards.

‘He’s a moody devil,’ Luke said sulkily. ‘One moment he’s fine and the next he’s grumpy as hell.’

Lily took the cocoa tin from the mantelshelf. ‘I expect he’s got a lot on his mind,’ she said, taking off the lid and inhaling the bitter-sweet chocolate scent. There was just enough cocoa powder to make two cups, but her brothers took precedence over everyone else in the house and she was used to going without. They were the breadwinners and without them the women would
starve. That was the way of things. She had never thought to question it.

She served Luke first and then took a brimming cup to her grandfather’s room. He was already in bed and looking distinctly cross. ‘You’re late with my cocoa. What’ve you been doing, girl?’

‘It’s the same time as usual, Grandpa,’ Lily said patiently. ‘It just seems later because the nights are drawing in.’

‘I can tell the time, and you’re ten minutes past the hour. If we’d run the docks in such a slapdash way there would have been chaos. You should take a leaf from my book, Lily.’

‘Yes, Grandpa.’

‘And you should stop filling your head with all that drawing nonsense or you’ll go the same way as your mother. Be satisfied with learning to keep house and look after your family.’

‘Yes, Grandpa,’ Lily said, plumping up his pillows.

He eyed her suspiciously. ‘And don’t give me that blank look, Lily Larkin. There’s no finer calling for a woman than to be a domestic angel. Your grandma was one such. She was a wonderful woman and it’s a pity you don’t take after her. Nell does, God bless her. But you and Molly …’ He left the sentence hanging in the air, shaking his head.

‘Goodnight, Grandpa,’ Lily said, dropping a kiss on his grey head. She left him to drink his cocoa, closing the door softly behind her. She had grown accustomed to his constant harping on her failings, and she had learned to ignore it, treating it as the ramblings of an
old man who was disappointed with life. Once, when she had been much younger, she had been upset by his criticisms, but now they rippled over her like the river water at ebb tide. She took her night candle from the table at the foot of the stairs. It cast long shadows that moved with her as she mounted the staircase, but she was not afraid of the dark. The old house seemed to wrap its arms protectively around her and the thought of having to move out was too horrible to contemplate. She had intended to go to her bedroom, but she could not resist taking a peek into Armand’s room.

Seated one on either side of the bed, Molly and Nell faced each other and Lily could feel the air snapping with the tension between them. Despite their downcast faces, the tableau they presented in the glow of the firelight and flickering candles was one of touching concern for a sick man. It was ruined by Molly, who turned her head to glare at Lily. ‘Shut the door, silly. You’re causing a draught.’

‘How is he?’ Lily closed the door behind her and tiptoed over to the bed.

Nell put down her sewing, and Lily saw that she had been attempting to patch one of the curtains. ‘He’s a little better, I think. At least, he doesn’t seem to be so hot and he’s stopped rambling.’

‘It’s a pity he’s been speaking French all the time,’ Molly said, sighing. ‘I’d love to know what he’s been saying and Nell won’t tell me, although I’m sure she understands.’

Nell shook her head. ‘I can only pick out a few words,
and I think he was talking about the accident that grounded his ship. It didn’t make much sense.’

‘Look,’ Molly cried excitedly. ‘He’s opening his eyes.’ She leaned towards him. ‘Hello, Armand. I’m Molly.’

Nell glared at her, raising her finger to her lips. ‘Leave him alone, Molly. Let him come round in his own time.’

Lily moved closer to the bed. ‘I think he’s trying to say something.’ She held her breath, willing Armand to look at her, but his gaze was fixed on Nell. Lily’s heart sank; it was always the way. Men devoured Nell with their eyes; she could have had any number of suitors had she given them the slightest encouragement, but she had never shown the least interest in any of the young men who came knocking on their door. Nell’s excuse was that she had too much responsibility at home to think about love and marriage, but looking at her sister now Lily suspected she might have had a change of heart. There was a delicate flush to Nell’s cheeks, a light in her eyes and a tender curve to her lips as she leaned forward to lay her hand on Armand’s brow.