Dilly Court - Ragged Rose

Fancello held his head in his hands. ‘We will have to close.’

‘We cannot let our patrons down tonight,’ Graziella said, rising from the sofa. ‘Sing for us just once more, Clementino? Just once more, for your mamma .’

‘No. Never again.’ Clementino tossed his long dark locks and stalked out of the room.

‘I know the words to most of his songs.’ Rose looked from one bleak face to the other. ‘So does Cora. We could do Clementino’s act just for one night, but we would expect to be paid extra.’

‘It would be a travesty.’ Fancello threw up his hands. ‘I won’t allow it.’

‘Yes, you will, Alessandro.’ Graziella moved to a side table and unlocked a tin box. ‘Do what you can, Rose. Here is your pay, including extra for tonight. We will not be requiring you again.’

Rose accepted the money. ‘What will you do, signora?’

Graziella’s full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. ‘We will return to Italy. We have family in Naples, and I wish to be close to my son. Perhaps one day he will forgive us for what we have done to him.’

‘I hope he will, signora.’ Rose left the room. As she made her way slowly down the stairs, she noticed for the first time that the treads were worn and plaster was flaking off the walls. She must, she thought, have had stars in her eyes when she first came to Fancello’s saloon, and if she were to admit the truth she had enjoyed every minute of each performance. Papa would be horrified and Mama might never speak to her again, but she had loved the limelight and revelled in the applause. Now it had come to an end, and the distress she felt was not entirely due to the shortfall in the amount they needed to free Billy. She would miss the excitement of leading a double life, and the ever-present danger of discovery, but she could not help feeling sorry for Clementino and his parents. She went to give Cora the bad news.

Both their performances went down well, and the audience did not seem to notice the absence of the child star, but as they took their final bow and exited from the stage Rose found herself embraced by Clementino. It was the first time she had seen him in male clothing and he was every inch a handsome youth.

‘Thank you, Rose,’ he said, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You have saved my life.’

Cora stared at him in amazement. ‘Well,’ she breathed. ‘Who would have thought it?’

‘Good luck, Clementino. I hope everything turns out well for you.’ Rose watched him walk away with a feeling akin to envy. His metamorphosis was complete, and now he could fly away like a butterfly emerging from its pupa: there was no such escape for a young woman like herself. This adventure was over, and now she must return to a life of duty and diligence, at the beck and call of her father and then the man she might ultimately marry. Her brief stab at independence, albeit for a just cause, had come to an end. How they would find the money to pay for Billy’s defence was a problem yet to be solved. She turned with a start as Cora tugged at her sleeve.

‘Stop daydreaming, Rose,’ Cora said impatiently. ‘I’ve seen him. Gerard is seated at his usual table and he is on his own. I must speak to him.’

‘It’s over, Corrie. You won’t see him again after tonight.’

Cora tossed her head. ‘We’ll see about that.’ She pulled back the curtain and ran down the steps to join Gerard. His handsome features dissolved into a charming smile as he stood to greet her. Rose turned away. She had seen enough to realise that there was more to her sister’s relationship with the young aristocrat than she had at first suspected. It was another complication in an already difficult situation. She went to their dressing room and began taking off her stage make-up.

It was almost midnight when they returned to the vicarage, having first stopped to change their clothes at Polly’s establishment. It had been decided that Maisie should remain at the vicarage until morning, as it was unsafe for her to walk home alone at this hour of the night. Even as Rose opened the scullery door she sensed that all was not well, and, as she entered the kitchen she heard the sound of groaning. A single candle guttered on the table leaving the room in deep shadow, and she almost tripped over Maisie, who was lying on a mat by the range. She was curled up in a ball, clutching her belly and moaning piteously.

Rose went down on her knees beside her. ‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’

Cora lit a lamp and held it over them. ‘What’s the matter?’

Maisie raised a pale, tear-stained face and her mouth contorted with pain. ‘I dunno, miss. I got collywobbles. It don’t half hurt.’ She grimaced and clutched her hands around her belly.

Rose looked closer and saw a tell-tale dark stain on the mat where Maisie lay. She exchanged worried glances with Cora. ‘We’ll need towels and hot water.’ She smoothed Maisie’s hair back from her damp forehead. ‘It will be over soon. Don’t be scared, we helped once when a woman miscarried at Aunt Polly’s, so we know what to do. It’s probably for the best.’

A thin sliver of daylight filtered through the kitchen window as Rose and Cora sat down to drink a well-earned cup of tea. Maisie had survived her ordeal, and was sleeping peacefully in Billy’s old room.

Cora added two lumps of sugar to her cup. ‘I suppose if the worst comes to the worst we could seek employment as midwives.’

Rose sipped her tea. ‘As Papa would say, losing the baby this early is a blessing in disguise, but I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor girl.’

‘She’s little more than a child herself.’ Cora stifled a yawn. ‘I’m so tired, Rose. I must get some sleep.’

‘Go to bed. I’ll finish clearing up.’

Cora stood up, gazing anxiously at her sister. ‘You must be exhausted, too.’

Rose shrugged and smiled. ‘Oddly enough I’m not at all tired. It will probably catch up with me later, but when I’ve finished in here I’m going to Papa’s study to get pen and paper, and I’m going to write to Mrs Harman.’

‘But you don’t know where she lives, other than that it’s a place called Lyme Regis.’

‘I spoke to Mrs Blunt before she went off duty yesterday afternoon, and she remembered posting letters to Isabel Harman at Beehive Cottage. She might still be living there so it’s worth a try.’

‘I suppose so, but I’m too worn out to think. Wake me up in time for breakfast, Rose. We don’t want Papa to suspect anything.’

‘I agree. I’m hoping that Papa will agree to take Maisie on as scullery maid. He knows her situation, and I’m certain he would consider it unchristian to turn her away in her hour of need. I’ll be sure to point that out to him should he refuse.’ Rose finished her tea and stood up. ‘Go to bed, Corrie. Leave everything to me.’

Having banked up the fire in the range and tidied away all signs of the night’s events, Rose went to her father’s study and sat down at his desk to compose a letter to her mother’s old friend. She was reading it through when her father walked into the room. He came to a halt, staring at her in surprise.

‘Rose? It’s six o’clock in the morning. Why are you up so early, and to whom are you writing?’

She smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Papa. I should have asked you first, but I’m composing a letter to Mrs Harman.’

Seymour pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Why are you writing to your godmother?’

‘Dr Grantley said that Mama needed rest and fresh air, and Mrs Harman lives by the sea in Lyme Regis.’

‘I think I follow your line of thought, Rose, but this is a matter for your mother and myself to decide, not you.’

‘I realise that, of course, but there’s no harm in finding out if my godmother still resides in Beehive Cottage.’