Cinderella Sister (9 page)

‘Well?’ Molly demanded. ‘Has the fever gone or not? Don’t just sit there staring at him as if he was a slice of chocolate cake.’

Nell withdrew her hand, blushing furiously. ‘Hush, Molly. What a thing to say.’

‘Be quiet, both of you,’ Lily said. ‘He’s trying to say something.’

There was a moment of silence as all three sisters stared at the injured man. Armand looked from one to the other and a slow smile spread across his sculpted features. ‘Am I in heaven with the angels?’

Molly clasped her hands to her breast and with a sharp intake of breath her rosy lips formed a circle of delight. ‘Oh, how sweet.’

Lily’s heart fluttered against her ribcage, and she felt herself melting like ice cream on a warm day. She was lost for words as she gazed at Armand. His eyes were large, slightly almond-shaped, and the dark-rimmed irises shone like molten gold in the firelight. She was bereft of words.

Nell rose hastily to her feet. ‘Monsieur Labrosse,’ she began tentatively. ‘H-how do you feel?’

He attempted to sit up, but fell back against the pillows with a groan. ‘My head, it is a little hurt I think and my ankle too. Ladies, I fear I have given you much trouble.’

‘Oh, no.’

Lily felt a sudden urge to giggle as she and her sisters spoke in unison.

Armand raised his hand and a smile played on his lips. ‘You are too kind. But tell me, how long have I been like this?’

‘Two days, monsieur,’ Nell said, casting a warning look at Molly who was hovering near the bedhead with the look of a blackbird about to pounce on a juicy worm. ‘You were brought here after the fire on board your ship.’

‘Please, my name is Armand. I believe I owe you much and I am grateful.’

‘Armand is a lovely name and it’s a pleasure to have you here,’ Molly said, leaning towards him with a smile that made her cheeks dimple. Lily had seen her sister practising this art in the mirror and Molly was now
using it to good effect. Lily noted somewhat gloomily that the Frenchman was impressed, and she raised her hand to her own smooth cheek. No matter how hard she tried she could not compete with Molly’s dimples or Nell’s classic beauty.

‘And you are Molly; you have already told me that.’ Armand turned his head to look at Nell. ‘And you, mademoiselle. May I know your name?’

‘Helen,’ Nell whispered. ‘But everyone calls me Nell.’

‘Nell.’ He savoured the word, rolling it round his mouth so that it sounded delightfully foreign. ‘It is a beautiful name and I must thank you for looking after me so well.’

Nell’s blush deepened. ‘You are too kind, but now I think you should rest.’

Lily had had enough of being ignored and she cleared her throat. ‘I’m Lily and I found you and brought you home.’ She met her sister’s angry glances with a defensive lift of her chin. ‘Well, I did.’

Armand held his hand out to her. ‘Then I must thank you, Mademoiselle Lily. You saved my life, I think.’

Lily laid her hand in his and felt an arrow of desire shoot up her arm to target her heart. ‘I’m so glad,’ she murmured. ‘I mean, I’m so glad you are getting better now, monsieur.’

‘Armand,’ he corrected, closing his eyes. ‘Just Armand.’

‘You must rest now,’ Nell said, becoming brisk and businesslike. ‘Lily will go downstairs and heat up some of the broth left from dinner, and Molly …’ Nell lowered her voice. ‘Just go away and leave the poor man in peace.’

‘Shan’t,’ Molly hissed, leaning over the bed with her eyes narrowed like a cobra about to strike. ‘You can’t send me away, Nell. I’ve as much right to be here as you.’

‘Very well,’ Nell retorted coldly. ‘Stay, but make yourself useful. Make up the fire and trim the candle wicks. We don’t want our patient to choke on their smoke. Lily, what are you waiting for? Go and heat up some broth.’

Lily knew better than to argue with Nell when she was in a commanding mood and as she left the room she observed that, for once in her life, Molly was doing as she was told. Wonders would never cease, and all because of a handsome foreigner who had touched their hearts. Lily barely felt the ground beneath her feet as she flew downstairs to fetch sustenance for Armand. She was unaccountably light-headed and happy. She wanted to throw back her head and sing. She was in love.

But over the next few days it became even more apparent to Lily that both her sisters were equally smitten with Armand Labrosse; a fact which did not go unnoticed by their brothers and was the cause of much hilarity and a considerable amount of teasing. For the first time Lily found herself at an advantage over Nell and Molly who had of necessity to go out to work, leaving Lily in sole charge of the patient. Aggie was not best pleased, but Lily tried not to let her household tasks suffer by getting up an hour earlier in the morning and cleaning out the grates before anyone
rose from their beds. On payday, Matt had replenished their stock of coal and candles, and Nell instructed Aggie to buy scrag-end of mutton to add to the vegetable stew that had become their staple diet. In the meantime, everyone waited anxiously for news from Paris as to when they might expect a visit from Armand’s father.

In the afternoons, while Grandpa and Aggie took their naps, Lily was free to sit with Armand. He was allowed out of bed for longer periods each day, and she made him comfortable in a chair by the window so that he could look out and view the busy river traffic, the cranes at the wharves and the ships, barges, colliers and other small trading vessels loading and unloading their cargoes. At first, Lily was shy and their conversations were inclined to be one-sided, with Armand doing all the talking and Lily an avid listener, but gradually she became more relaxed in his company and began asking him questions about his life and work. She learned that he was the only son of Philippe Labrosse, whose father had been a man of humble origins and a brush maker by trade. Philippe had begun by peddling his father’s wares on the streets of Paris and had branched out by renting a small shop where he sold hardware. He had been so successful that soon he had a chain of shops and had taken an interest in importing goods from abroad. This in turn had led him to invest in shipping and now, so Armand said with pride, the Labrosse family owned a fleet of merchant ships, trading worldwide.

Lily had listened awestruck. Her admiration for Armand knew no bounds, and very soon she found
herself telling him about Ma and her talent as an artist, and then it was just a small step to admitting her own passion for drawing and painting. When Armand had asked to see her work Lily had been reluctant at first, but after gentle persuasion she had shown him her sketches and watercolour paintings of the London docks. His admiration and appreciation had been genuine and unstinting.

‘Lily, you are an artist most certainly. You have a great talent and it should not be hidden under the bed.’ He held one of her paintings up to the light. ‘See how the water dances and gleams. You have captured the sunshine in a way that makes the picture spring into life.’ He looked up at her with his dark eyes glowing. ‘Do you do anything other than scenes of the river?’

‘I like to do portraits, but I can’t get anyone to sit for me,’ Lily admitted shyly.

‘But you have done some, have you not? Who was the fortunate sitter?’

Lily lowered her gaze as a bubble of laughter rose to her throat. ‘You, Armand. Only you didn’t know it at the time.’

‘Let me see.’

She shook her head. ‘They are not very good. You will laugh.’

‘Allow me to be the judge of that,
ma chérie
.’ Armand held out his hand. ‘Please show them to me.’

It was a command that she could not disobey and Lily pulled the sketches from the bottom of the pile. ‘They are very rough, Armand.’ She held her breath while he examined them.

He laid them down, looking up at her with a serious expression. ‘These are not good, Lily.’

She bit her lip, turning her head away. She would not cry. She would not allow him to see how his words had wounded her. She leapt to her feet. ‘I have chores to do downstairs, Armand. I’ve wasted enough time.’ She bundled up her sketches and hurried towards the door, but he called her back.

‘Lily, wait.’

‘Come back, Lily.’ Armand beckoned to her with a smile that sent a shiver of delight down her spine. ‘You did not allow me to finish,
ma chérie
. I said they were not good and I meant it.’

Unable to resist the gently teasing tone of his voice, Lily was drawn to him as if in a trance. ‘I don’t understand.’

He gazed at her work, shaking his head. ‘No, these are not good, they are superb. Who taught you to paint and draw like this?’

Her breath caught in her throat and she could hardly believe her ears. Such praise from a man like Armand was as thrilling as it was unexpected. ‘I used to watch Ma when she painted, but that was a long time ago.’

‘I would like to see her work. Have you any of her paintings, Lily?’

‘Grandpa destroyed them all. We are not allowed to mention her name in front of him, and no one must know that I’ve done these. They are all afraid I will turn out to be wild like Ma.’

Armand threw back his head and laughed. ‘What nonsense. I know you all a little now and you are a pure white lily, which in the romantic language of flowers is interpreted as youthful innocence. It is Molly
who is the wild one with thorns like the dog rose, meaning pleasure and pain, and Nell is …’ He broke off, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Ah well, she is the rose without the thorn.’

‘What does that mean?’ Lily stared at him, intrigued by the unexpected romantic side to his nature.

‘It means love at first sight. But we are not talking about your sisters, Lily. We are talking about you and your great talent, which must not be denied.’

‘Oh, but it must,’ Lily cried, coming back to earth with a bump. ‘This is a secret you must keep, Armand. Please, for my sake, don’t mention any of this to anyone. I am forbidden to paint and draw, and even if I have talent as you say it can get me nowhere. It is just something I have to do, but it is of no use to anyone else.’

Armand stared at her, frowning and shaking his head. ‘My poor Lily, that is not true. You were born to create beautiful things; you must not deny your art.’

‘I’m sorry I told you about it,’ she murmured, backing towards the door. ‘I should not have bothered you with my problems. Please forget what I said. We never had this conversation.’ She left without giving him time to reply and she ran to her own room to hide the sketches under her bed. ‘Language of flowers,’ she muttered as she hurried down the stairs. ‘If he had grown up here he wouldn’t talk so soft.’ She paused, startled by the unexpected sound of men’s voices in the entrance hall. She recognised Matt’s deep tones and when his companion responded it was with an accent so similar to Armand’s that Lily knew it must be Monsieur Labrosse himself. She went down to meet them.

Matt looked up and greeted her with a smile. ‘Lily, come and meet Armand’s father, who has travelled all the way from Paris to see his son.’

She bobbed a curtsey. ‘Hello, Mr – I mean, Monsieur Labrosse.’

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Mademoiselle Lily.’

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she snatched her hand away, glancing anxiously at Matt but he was nodding furiously and frowning. She took this mime to mean that she must accept this foreign way of greeting and she swallowed hard. ‘Thank you. I mean …’ She floundered, not knowing quite what to say, but Armand’s father seemed unperturbed and his smile never wavered.

‘I have to thank you and your family for taking care of my son, but if I may I would like to see him now.’

‘Of course,’ Matt said. ‘I’ll take you to him right away. Lily will fetch you some refreshment and she will make up a bed for you. I assume you will be staying for one night at least?’

Monsieur Labrosse held up his hand, shaking his head. ‘Thank you, no. I am the guest of the manager of the London Dock Company who is an old friend. I require nothing, other than to see Armand and satisfy myself that he is recovering after his ordeal. I plan to take him home to Paris as soon as I have finished my business in London, that is if I may trespass on your hospitality for a day or two longer.’

‘Oh yes, please let him stay.’ The thought that Armand might be spirited away so suddenly had not
occurred to Lily until this moment and it was almost too painful to bear. They were staring at her and she realised that she had spoken the words out loud. ‘He might not be strong enough to face the sea voyage.’

‘It’s entirely up to Monsieur Labrosse, Lily.’ Matt mounted the stairs. ‘Follow me, monsieur.’

Lily stood as if frozen to the spot. She had not thought as far as Armand’s eventual recovery and return home. The realisation that she might never see him again sliced through her with an actual pain. He had admired her work and he had understood her love of art and now he was going to leave. He had likened her to a white lily with the innocence of youth, but the feelings she had been harbouring for him had been anything but innocent. He had stirred something within her that she had never experienced before; it was an entirely grown-up emotion and a physical desire. In the few short days that she had known Armand Labrosse, Lily realised that she had bridged the gulf between adolescence and womanhood. And yet, in her heart, she knew that her case was hopeless. Armand had left her in no doubt that it was Nell who had first claim on his affections. The winter sun might be slanting through the hall windows, but to Lily it felt as if it was snowing. She had fallen in love and realised that it was a lost cause all in the space of an hour. It was a bleak day indeed.

Later that evening Nell and Molly received the news in their different ways. Nell attempted a brave smile that did not reach her eyes; Molly burst into floods of
tears and stormed out of the kitchen. There was silence in the room as the family listened to her thunderous footsteps reverberating on the stair treads followed by a loud crash as she slammed the bedroom door.

Aggie sighed and raised her eyes to heaven. ‘She hasn’t done that since she was fourteen. It’s quite like old times.’

Matt pushed his chair back from the supper table and stood up. ‘She’ll just have to get over it. When Monsieur Labrosse saw how well Armand was doing he decided to return home tomorrow. They’ll be sailing on the evening tide.’