The Constant Heart (30 page)

Harold thumped him on the back with a cheerful grin. 'And none was meant, old chap. Can't a man show appreciation for his son's choice of bride in his own front parlour, Maggie?'

'Drawing room, Harold.' Margaret's winged brows knotted together in a frown. 'You are showing me up, as you always do. Common born and common to the grave, that is you, Harold Gostellow.'

'I was good enough to make an honest woman of you, madam. I didn't see suitors queuing up outside your father's door, even though you was the dustman's only daughter and had expectations.'

She rose from the chaise longue with a rustle of silk petticoats. 'The whole city knows that I married beneath me. My father was a great man and you drove one of his scavenger carts.' She almost spat the words at him. 'You were the common dustman, taking the city rubbish to his dust mound.' There was a horrified silence.

Rosina moved closer to her father, clutching his arm. She longed to take the ring from her finger and throw it back at Harry's mother, but she could see that he was upset by this extremely public show of animosity between his parents. She glanced anxiously at Harold to see how he had taken the insult, but he threw back his head and roared with laughter. 'She's a one, is my missis. A veritable hell-cat when she's got the wilds.' He hooked his arm around his wife's waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. 'There's one for you, old girl. Just so's you don't feel left out.'

'Beast!' Margaret took a swipe at him with her fan, but he ducked and she missed. 'Uncouth brute!' He chucked her under the chin and nipped smartly out of the way before she could retaliate. 'Uncouth I may be and I admit I'm a self-made man, but there's no shame in that, is there, Ed, old chap?'

Edward swallowed hard and his beard moved up and down, seemingly of its own accord. 'It's true that hard work pays, Harold.'

'Father, I . . .' Harry began, but the timely arrival of Potter, announcing that dinner was served, put a stop to the cut and thrust.

Margaret pushed her husband out of the way and she took Edward's arm. 'We will lead the way into the dining room, Edward.' She glanced over her shoulder. 'Harry, escort your fiancée. I don't trust your father to lead her anywhere, unless it was into the broom cupboard. And don't deny it, Harold. I know all about your little antics with the maidservants.'

'Well, if you wasn't always pleading your delicate constitution when it comes to your conjugal duties, then maybe I wouldn't have to seek my rights as a husband elsewhere.' Harold strode on ahead, his footsteps echoing angrily on the marble-tiled floor of the entrance hall.

Rosina tugged at Harry's arm. 'It might be best if Papa and I went home now. Considering the circumstances.'

Harry stopped, halfway across the hall. 'Mother! Father! Rosina is embarrassed by your behaviour, so much so that she wants to go home.'

Margaret stopped and pointed a shaking finger at her husband as he disappeared into the dining room. 'It's all his fault. I can't be held to blame for his lack of breeding.' She fixed Rosina with a gimlet eye. 'You must not be upset by our trivial disagreements, my dear. I am, as you see, outnumbered by men and I need a female ally in my house. You will dine with us and there will be no further outbursts, I can assure you of that. Do you hear me in the dining room, Harold? Or are you in there taking liberties with Watson?'

Watson came running from the dining room, adjusting her white mobcap. 'I'm going for the soup, ma'am.'

'Harold, you licentious libertine.' Margaret marched into the dining room, leaving Edward standing open-mouthed, staring after her. Her scream of rage was followed by the sound of breaking china.

Rosina looked up into Harry's troubled face. 'Is it always like this?'

'Oh, no,' he replied, without the flicker of a smile. 'Sometimes it's much worse.'

'I think that we ought to leave,' Edward said, shuddering at the sound of another piece of crockery shattering against a wall.

'No, please.' Harry slipped his arm around Rosina's shoulders. 'Just wait a minute and they'll calm down. It will be as though nothing has happened, I promise you.'

Watson came hurrying towards them carrying a tureen. 'Soup,' she said tersely as she headed into the dining room, adding over her shoulder, 'if there's any plates left to serve it.'

'Come,' Harry said, squeezing Rosina's hand. 'It will be all right, believe me.'

She allowed him to lead her into the dining room, where their feet crunched on broken shards of china, and the host and hostess were already seated at opposite ends of the rectangular dining table. Potter was calmly setting out fresh soup plates and Harold rose to his feet, smiling. 'Pray be seated.' He raised his glass. 'Margaret, my love, let us toast the happy couple.'

She bared her teeth in a smile and raised her glass. 'To my darling boy and . . . I'm sorry, my dear – your name has slipped my mind.'

Harry pulled out a chair for Rosina. 'You know very well, Mama. Don't tease her.'

Margaret pulled a face. 'To whatever-her-name-is, as well. Oh, do serve the soup, Potter. I'm famished.'

Harold tucked a starched white table napkin into the top of his waistcoat and picked up his soup spoon, waving it at Edward. 'Well, I call this very sociable. We won't talk business in front of the ladies, but I'll be blunt, old boy. With your boat out of action I daresay your pockets are to let, so to speak.'

Edward choked on his soup. 'I – well, to be frank, things are a bit tight at the moment.'

'Say no more. Come to the office in the morning and I may be able to help you out, just until that boat of yours is shipshape and Bristol fashion again.'

'Do shut up, Harold.' Margaret glared at him and pushed her plate away. She turned to Rosina with a martyred expression. 'My digestive system is so delicate that the slightest upset robs me of my appetite. I daresay that I will fade away one day, and I doubt if anyone will even notice.'

'Don't worry, old girl. I'm sure they'll take you away on one of your pa's old dustcarts.' Harold winked at Rosina and continued to dip large chunks of bread in his soup, spilling most of it down his front.

'Sticks and stones, Harold,' Margaret said, sipping her wine. 'You shall not provoke me. Remember that we have guests, and that this evening is to celebrate the betrothal of our son to . . .'

'Rosina, Mother.'

'Yes, to be sure. Potter, more wine if you please.'

The Gostellows did seem to have called a truce to hostilities during the long drawn-out meal, but Rosina could not relax and she barely tasted the excellent food. Her nerves were stretched as tight as violin strings, and she was heartily relieved when the time came to leave. Harry insisted on accompanying them home, and, having waited for Edward to enter the house on Black Eagle Wharf, he took Rosina in his arms and kissed her. His breath smelt of wine and cigar smoke, and his hands strayed to cup her breasts.

'I must go in, Harry. Papa will think it unseemly if I linger outside with you.'

'We are engaged, my darling.' Harry kissed her again, probing her mouth with his tongue and sliding his fingers down the front of her bodice.

She laid her hands flat against his chest in an effort to push him away. 'Goodnight, Harry.'

'Don't go in yet.' His voice was thick with desire and he tightened his arms around her waist. 'Just one more kiss, Rosie.'

She closed her eyes and allowed his embrace but she did not return his kiss. 'No, Harry.' She pushed harder as his fingers found the locket. 'That's enough, really.'

'Not nearly enough for me, as you will discover when we are married.' He chuckled deep in his throat, but he held the locket in the palm of his hand and he stared at it, a frown replacing his smile. 'Dare I ask whose likeness is enshrined in this gold case?'

'My mother and father, of course. Who else?'

'It could be another lover.'

She was quick to hear the note of jealousy in his voice, and Rosina snatched the locket from his grasp with a nervous giggle. 'Don't be absurd, Harry. You know that there is no one other than you.'

'Do I, my love? I rather thought you took a shine to that pirate fellow we met at Cremorne Gardens. He hasn't bothered you since, has he? Because I would take a pretty dim view of it if he had.'

'Don't be silly. Of course he hasn't. He was a perfect stranger.'

'And what about the scribbling Pharisee, Walter? You went rushing after him this afternoon instead of accompanying me to Hatton Garden to choose the ring. I forgave you, but I think it's pretty odd behaviour.'

'Harry, this is ridiculous. Why are you questioning me like this?' Rosina backed into the doorway. 'It's late and I'm tired.'

He laid his finger on her lips. 'Hush, my love. I didn't mean to upset you. Just remember one thing, Rosie. I love you and I am a very jealous man. I forbid you to have anything to do with Walter.'

'That is so unfair. Walter is just a friend, and he has been a good friend too.'

'Too good in my opinion. I'm telling you, Rosie. If I see him sniffing round here again I won't be responsible for my actions.'

'You can't mean that, Harry. Walter might come to see my papa. He might have work on the wharf. You can't stop him working.'

'Can I not? If he puts a foot on Black Eagle Wharf, I'll set the police on him. I'll have him arrested for embezzling your father's money, and he'll spend a very long time in prison.'

It was sad to see a steam tug towing the
Ellie
May
downriver to be beached and repaired by the shipwright. Rosina perched on the window seat in the parlour watching its slow progress. She was glad that her papa was not here to witness the event. He had gone out early that morning to keep his appointment with Harold Gostellow, and he had been in a high state of anticipation as to the nature of the employment he might be offered. Bertha had been equally excited, suggesting that Mr Gostellow might need a right-hand man to assist him in running his business. After all, who knew more about the hay trade than one who had worked in it for so many years? The captain might even end up as a partner in the firm, now that the two families were to be united by marriage. Rosina had said nothing; she suspected that her future father-in-law did not give much away, and she hoped that Papa would not be disappointed.

It was proving difficult to remain dry-eyed as the poor old
Ellie May
slid away from the wharf with her masts down, giving her the appearance of a mortally injured bird. Rosina sniffed and swallowed hard; she should be happy that the boat was going to be repaired and refurbished, and she should be grateful to the Gostellows for putting up the necessary money, but a nagging doubt lingered in her mind. She was prepared to place her whole future in Harry's hands, but she did not trust his father, and it was not just his roving eye and wandering hands that had coloured her judgement. As to Margaret, her future mother-in-law, the mere thought of her sent shivers down Rosina's spine. She stared at the diamond ring on her finger with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps she could persuade Harry to replace it with a ring of her choosing. A piece of glass would do just as well if it was bought as a love token and not as a symbol of ownership.

She turned her head to stare out of the window as she heard a man's voice raised to a shout. She saw Captain Barnum standing on the edge of the wharf gesticulating at the fast-disappearing
Ellie
May
. She could not hear what he was saying, but she could tell from his expression that he was enjoying the spectacle. Suddenly his attention was focused in a different direction. Rosina craned her neck, but it was not hard to guess who was on the receiving end of Barnum's taunts.

'Papa.' As he came within her range of vision, Rosina knew by the hunch of his shoulders and plodding gait that something was wrong. It was not the walk of a jubilant man. She leapt to her feet, tripping over her long skirts in her haste to get down the stairs. Without bothering to put on her bonnet, she ran out into the hot July sunshine. Captain Barnum had been joined by Sukey and her sisters, and they were laughing as he pointed at Edward's dejected figure. As he drew nearer, Rosina could tell from his dull eyes and down-turned lips that her papa was not a happy man. She hastened to his side. 'Papa, what's the matter? What went wrong?'