Dilly Court - The Christmas Rose

Rose could see this conversation going nowhere and she hastily changed the subject. ‘I’ve typed out the article you wrote. If there’s anything you want to change, just say so and I’ll retype it.’

Eugene drained the last dregs of coffee and handed the mug to her. ‘Excellent coffee. A refill, please, while I take a look at your latest effort.’

Rose did as he asked and waited patiently while Eugene pored over the article. He reached for the coffee and drank deeply.

‘Excellent. Not many errors and a masterly piece of reporting, even if I say so myself. My talent is being wasted writing such paltry items of news. I need something I can really get my teeth into.’

‘Like a war?’ Rose said, smiling. She meant it as a joke but Eugene seemed to take it seriously.

‘By Jove, yes. I’ve been trying to persuade Arthur to send me to Egypt to cover the war, but it seems to be over. Although I gather the situation is still tense.’

‘Best finish your coffee, Guvnor.’ Rose took the sheet of paper from him. ‘Shall I run this down to the print room?’

‘Give it to Scully. I’ve got an assignment for you, Munday.’

Rose could hardly believe her ears. ‘Really? You’re sending me out to do a report?’

‘Yes and no. I’m taking you to the Savoy Theatre this evening to see Patience , the latest opera by Gilbert and Sullivan. Do you like opera?’

‘I love music,’ Rose said slowly. ‘But I thought you said I was going on an assignment.’

‘You will be. I can hardly send you to the theatre on your own, now can I? I’ll take you, but you will be the critic.’

‘I can’t.’ The reality of what he had said brought her back to earth with a jolt. ‘I haven’t got anything to wear. I don’t know about London, but people at home dress up to go to the theatre. You’ll have to take someone else – I’m sure you have lots of lady friends.’

‘I’m not disputing that, Munday, but their talents lie elsewhere – you, on the other hand, show promise and I am giving you the chance to prove yourself.’

‘It still leaves me with the same problem,’ Rose said impatiently. ‘I only brought the minimum of luggage because Max promised me a whole new wardrobe. Maybe I was naïve, but there it is.’

‘I think I have the perfect solution. My sister, Cecilia, has dozens of elegant gowns, far too many, in my opinion. She’ll lend you something suitable.’ He stood up and reached for his coat. ‘Get your outdoor things on, Munday. We’re taking a cab to Tavistock Square.’

‘Is this where you live?’ Rose stepped out of the cab, looking up at the grand façade of the four-storey house with wrought-iron balconies on the first floor and tall windows interspersed with Ionic columns.

‘It’s my parents’ house,’ Eugene said, sprinting up the steps to the front door. He rapped on the knocker. ‘Cissie should be at home, although knowing my sister she’s probably still in bed.’

‘At this time of day?’

‘Cecilia loves parties that go on into the small hours.’ Eugene stepped over the threshold. ‘Come in, Rose. Don’t stand there dithering.’

She eyed the footman warily as she entered the house, but he was staring stonily into the distance and he closed the door after her. Eugene shrugged off his coat and gave his hat and gloves to the servant who was standing to attention, arms outstretched like a human coatrack.

‘Giddings will take your things,’ Eugene said impatiently. ‘Come on, Munday, we haven’t got all day.’

Rose took off her coat and handed it to Giddings. It might be her imagination but she sensed his disapproval, and she suspected that the servants would view her second-hand garments with contempt. But Eugene was striding across the black and white marble-tiled floor, heading for the graceful sweep of the staircase. She was inexplicably nervous and she shivered, despite the warmth from a fire blazing at one end of the entrance hall. Until now Eugene had been her boss and mentor, but this was his home and she realised that he came from a family where money seemed to be no object. As she mounted the stairs she had visions of being scrutinised by his wealthy parents, and if the footman looked askance at the girl from Bendigo, what would Mr and Mrs Sheldon think of her?

Eugene opened one of the double doors at the top of the staircase. ‘Ah, you’re up and dressed, Cissie. That makes a change.’ He beckoned to Rose. ‘Come and meet my sister.’

Rose entered a room that was even grander than the Dorincourts’ mansion in Bendigo. The crimson and gold upholstery of the ornately carved mahogany sofas and chairs glowed like hot coals in the cold light that filtered through the tall windows. The cream background of the vast carpet was adorned with an abundance of pink roses and white daisies, wreathed in green leaves. The warmth in the Sheldons’ drawing room was such that it might have been a summer’s day, and the effect was heightened by a roaring coal fire and the light from two gasoliers with glass shades shaped like waterlilies.

‘Of course I’m up. I’m not a lazybones like you.’ A young woman rose from the sofa nearest the fire. ‘Who is this, Eugene?’

‘Rose, ignore my sister’s bad manners.’ Eugene gave Rose a gentle push. ‘I want you to meet my sister, Cecilia.’

Remembering what Sadie had drummed into her, Rose bobbed a curtsey. ‘How do you do?’

‘Cissie, this is my protégée, Rose Munday. She is learning to use the typewriting machine I purchased in America and I’m giving her a chance to prove that she has it in her to become a reporter.’

Cecilia looked Rose up and down. ‘How do you do, Miss Munday? I must say, I’m impressed. I don’t suppose you realise how honoured you are.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Rose glanced at Eugene, who shrugged and went to stand with his back to the fire.

‘My brother is a typical man, Miss Munday. He thinks that we have nothing on our minds other than fashion and marriage, in that order.’

‘That’s not fair, Cissie. I never said that.’ Eugene gave Rose an apologetic smile. ‘Well, I might have thought that way once, but times have changed. I met several lady journalists in New York and I admired them greatly.’

‘So what makes Miss Munday a suitable candidate?’ Cecilia demanded. ‘I want to know.’

‘Maybe she’ll tell you her story one day, but that’s up to her. For now all I want is for you to lend her something suitable to wear to the opera this evening.’

Cecilia turned to Rose with a curious look. ‘What’s this all about, Miss Munday? Because if you think that my brother is a good catch I can assure you that he’s the last person I would recommend as a prospective husband.’

‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ Rose said angrily. ‘Such a thought never occurred to me.’

‘Yes, that’s a bit strong, even for you, Cissie.’ Eugene strolled over to a side table and selected a cut-glass decanter. ‘Would either of you like a drink?’

Rose shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’

‘It looks to me as though you had enough last evening.’ Cecilia shook her finger at him. ‘You’re turning into a rake, Gene. What would Papa say?’