Dilly Court - Ragged Rose

‘Well, what is it?’

‘A certain gent what’s been doing work for a professional person in Cornwall has asked to see you, miss. It’s urgent.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Rose said carefully. ‘You’ll need to explain further.’

The boy snatched off his battered cap exposing a mass of wildly curling red hair. ‘The gent what I speak of will be in The Eagle at noon. He begs you to attend, miss. He says it’s of the utmost importance.’

‘Has this man a name?’

‘He give me tuppence to keep mum. Will you come, miss? I’ll wait for you on the corner and take you there safe. You won’t come to no harm when you’re in the company of Bobby Lee.’

Rose thought quickly. If she managed to persuade Cora to hurry they might be able to do the rounds before midday, or at least they could visit the most pressing cases, although what Pa would say if he knew she was about to venture into a public house was something she did not choose to dwell upon. She had probably damned her eternal soul for ever by exhibiting herself on stage, so one more transgression was unlikely to make any difference. She nodded. ‘All right, Bobby. I’ll meet you on the corner just before noon.’ She closed the door hastily and returned to the kitchen.

‘It was nothing,’ she said airily. ‘Just a youth desperate to find work. I sent him on his way.’

‘That’s right,’ Mrs Blunt said with a nod of approval. ‘He was probably hoping to cadge food, but these people shouldn’t be encouraged. There’s plenty of work out there for those who are willing to look hard enough for gainful employment.’ She sniffed and resumed kneading the bread dough as if she were beating it into submission.

‘I’m off then. Will you tell Mama that I’ll see her this afternoon? I didn’t want to disturb her this early in the morning.’ Rose picked up the heavy baskets and went to find her sister.

She discovered Cora preening herself in the hall mirror. ‘You look very pretty as always, Corrie, but I doubt if we’ll meet the Honourable Gerard Barclay where we’re going this morning.’

‘You are such a tease, Rose. Just wait until you meet the man of your dreams, although I can’t imagine who could live up to your ideals. He would have to be a cross between Richard the Lionheart and Lord Byron.’

‘What an imagination you have, to be sure,’ Rose said, laughing at the vision Cora’s words had conjured up in her mind. ‘But I have to admit that it would be an interesting combination. Anyway, we’d best hurry or we’ll never get done.’

All that morning, while handing out sympathy and nourishment to poor parishioners, Rose found it hard to concentrate on the task in hand. She let Cora do the talking, but that was not unusual as Cora had a way with people, especially those who were sick or aged. Rose was content to offer help, when required to do so, and give practical advice, should it be requested, otherwise she stood back and allowed her sister to shine. Everyone said that Miss Cora Perkins was a saint; Mrs Blunt had told Rose so with a smug smile, which confirmed Rose’s long-held suspicion that their housekeeper was also one of Cora’s many admirers. But jealousy had never been one of Rose’s failings, and she could quite see why her sister won hearts and minds. Cora was an angel whose only failing was vanity, although Rose considered this to be perfectly justified in someone who had the delicate beauty of a snowdrop, and a smile that would melt the hardest of hearts. Rose was well aware of her own worth, and if she were not quite as lovely as her sister, she knew that she had a quick mind and a ready wit. Her looks, as she had often been told, were striking and she had inherited the dark auburn hair and green eyes from her father’s side of the family. It was her brother, however, to whom she was especially close. When they were children she and Billy had often been mistaken for twins, and Rose felt his disgrace now as deeply as if it were her own. She missed him more than she could say, and she would do anything to bring her brother home, absolutely anything.

She was waiting on the corner of City Road and Oakley Crescent when Bobby Lee came swaggering along the pavement, hands in pockets. He greeted her with a cheery smile and she followed him at a discreet distance to The Eagle. It was the first time she had stepped inside a public house and she wrapped her shawl around her head, hoping that no one would recognise her. Bobby weaved his way between tables in the crowded taproom, and Rose was acutely conscious of the curious stares aimed her way. He led her to a settle by the fire where a man sat on his own with a pint tankard on the table in front of him. Through a haze of tobacco smoke that stung her eyes and made her want to cough, Rose took a good look at the person who had requested her presence in such a dramatic manner.

‘This here is the gent.’ Bobby indicated the man with a sweep of his hand.

‘You must be Miss Rose. I’m Todd Scully.’ He half stood and then sank back on the settle. His dark eyes scanned Rose’s face as if he were memorising each feature in turn, but his expression gave nothing away. ‘Take a seat, miss.’

Rose pulled up a stool and sat with her back to the rest of the drinkers. ‘Please say what you have to say, Mr Scully. I’m not comfortable in a place like this.’

A tight little smile played around Scully’s thin lips. ‘That’s not what I heard, Miss Perkins, or should I say Miss Sunshine?’

Rose glanced nervously over her shoulder, but the other customers were too involved in their own business to appear to be listening. ‘I don’t know where you got that piece of information, sir.’

‘Come on, miss. Don’t play games with me. I was hired by a certain someone in the county of Cornwall to find out all I could about the case in question, and, as you and your sister are related to the person at present incarcerated at Her Majesty’s pleasure, it seems logical to start with you.’

‘There’s not much I can tell you, Mr Scully. I don’t know the exact circumstances of the event.’

Scully leaned forward, fixing her with bright, beady eyes, oddly reminiscent of a blackbird about to snatch a worm from the soil. ‘What do you know about the deceased? He was, I’ve been informed, your brother’s friend. They knew each other at Oxford.’

Rose nodded dully. ‘Yes, that’s correct.’ She had met the young man in question on a couple of occasions when Billy had brought him to the vicarage for supper, but she had not been favourably impressed. Gawain Tressidick had struck her as being too full of his own importance, and although Billy had assured her that his friend came from an old and respected Cornish landowning family, she had not considered this to be an excuse for bad manners. Gawain had monopolised the conversation at dinner, and his patronising attitude to her parents had annoyed her to the extent that she had been tempted to get up and leave the room, but good manners had prevailed. It was tragic that he had lost his life in what appeared to have been a barroom brawl, but Rose could not believe that Billy had been involved. She knew that her brother had gone through a wild stage at university, but after the initial excitement of being away from home and free from the strict upbringing they had all endured, Billy had finally settled down and applied himself to his studies.

Scully was regarding her steadily. ‘Was there any bad feeling between them?’

‘No. Not that I know of.’ Rose felt a wave of resentment building up in her breast. What right had this man to call her brother’s good character in question? She met his bold stare with a frown. ‘My brother is the most good-natured, easy-going person you could wish to meet, and he was that person’s friend. No matter what the provocation he wouldn’t have stooped to violence.’