Mermaids Singing (29 page)

Bella reached across the table and picked up the letter. When she had read it, she shot a questioning look at Kitty. ‘I don’t understand. I thought Betty owned this house.’

‘She does, but the land is leasehold. She went and saw the land agent yesterday and he said, unless she can find the sixty pounds, the landlord will take the house in lieu of the money.’

‘He can’t do that.’

‘The agent says he can.’

Bella stared at the address in Lincoln’s Inn Fields and folded the letter, slipping it into her pocket. ‘We’ll see about that. Is there any tea left in the pot?’

Bella sat in the dingy office of Feeney, Feeney and Rumbelow tapping her foot as she waited for Mr Feeney, Junior to see her. The clerk had done his best to put her off, but she had seated herself on a hard wooden settle and informed him that she would sit here all day and all night if necessary. Glancing up at the white-faced clock on the wall, she saw that she had been waiting for one hour and thirteen minutes. She cleared her throat, staring pointedly at the clerk. He dropped his gaze, looking slightly uncomfortable and went back to writing in his ledger. Every time there was the sound of movement from behind the closed door bearing Mr Feeney, Junior’s name, inscribed in neat gilt letters, Bella looked up hopefully. She had just decided that she was going to barge in unannounced, when the door opened and a short, balding man stuck his head into the room, peering at her with pale, sheep-like eyes.

‘Is this the young person, Potter?’

‘Yes, Mr Feeney.’

‘Show her in.’

Bella leapt to her feet, pushing past Potter before he had time to clamber off his stool. ‘About time, too! Do you know how long you’ve kept me waiting Mr Feeney? Did you really think I’d give up and go away?’

Mr Feeney scuttled behind his desk and sat down, steepling his fingers. ‘Take a seat, young lady.’

‘Thank you, I prefer to stand,’ Bella said, thrusting the letter under his nose. ‘You wrote this, I believe.’

‘It came from this office, yes.’

‘You can’t treat Mrs Scully like this. It’s quite preposterous. I demand to see the landlord. Let him tell me, face to face, that he’s going to turn a poor widow out of her own home.’

Blinking and flushing brick red from the top of his starched white collar to the tips of his ears, Mr Feeney blew out his cheeks and made a huffing noise. ‘Quite out of the question! Out of the question.’

Bella slammed her hand down on the desk, causing the silver inkstand to jiggle. ‘You will tell me who this man is or I will go to the press. Fleet Street is only round the corner and I know they would be more than interested in my story.’

Mr Feeney’s pale eyes rolled in their sockets, looking as though they might pop out at any moment. ‘Don’t you threaten me, Miss, er – to whom am I speaking?’

‘Lady Arabella Mableton.’

Mr Feeney jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over in his haste. ‘You are Lady Mableton?’

‘I am indeed.’

‘You must leave this office at once. I can’t speak to you, Madam, it would be a conflict of interest.’

Bella shook off his hand as he tried to take her by the arm. ‘Don’t you lay a hand on me or I’ll add common assault to the charge. You’d better tell me who this person is, Mr Feeney, before I lose patience altogether.’

Feeney’s face went from red to ashen. ‘My God, Ma’am, you put me in an impossible position.’

Bella took a step towards the door. ‘Tell me now or I’m going to the newspapers.’

‘Your husband is the landowner. Sir Desmond Mableton owns all the properties in Tanner’s Passage and I’m just following his instructions.’

Outside the office, Bella clutched the iron railings, taking deep breaths as her stomach roiled in fury. So Desmond was at the bottom of this cruel stroke! It was typical of his vindictive way of dealing with anyone who dared to cross him, but how on earth had he found out where she was staying? She didn’t have to stretch her imagination far to realise that there was only one person who could have passed on the information – Rackham! What sort of double-dealing game was he playing? She paced up and down outside the building until she realised that Potter, and Mr Feeney himself, were staring out of the window, watching her every movement.

Be calm, she told herself, stopping in her tracks and counting slowly to ten. Think, Bella, think logically what is to be done. There was no use in appealing to Rackham for help, he had made it clear that he had gone over to the enemy, as usual playing the hand that was likely to bring him the best return. Well, good luck to him with that skinny old maid whose veins ran with sour milk instead of blood. Rackham was an unspeakable cad, a louse, a despicable creeping insect who should be trodden into the ground. Best forget him and leave it to Iris to make the rest of his life as miserable as he truly deserved. Bella put her head down and strode onwards; there were more important things to consider than the abominable Giles Rackham.

Thanks to Desmond’s callous actions she was now responsible for Betty and everyone who lived in number seven Tanner’s Passage. Their lives were inextricably linked and it was up to her, not only to find them a new home, but also to think of a way they could earn enough money to support themselves.

Bella continued walking, not really considering where she was going, until she realised that she was halfway down the Strand and heading in the direction of the theatre. Humphrey Chester had offered her his help. All right, she thought, so it would not come without strings, but a plan was already forming in her head. If things worked out as she hoped, then she would be able to pay Humphrey off with money, rather than the only other marketable commodity at her disposal. She would not think about that now; this was an emergency and the lives of everyone in Tanner’s Passage depended on her making the right decision.

The faint smell of a Havana cigar wafted down the narrow corridor that led to Humphrey Chester’s office. Bella squared her shoulders, knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an answer.

Humphrey was seated behind a large mahogany desk littered with theatre posters, handbills and piles of correspondence. He glanced up and smiled. ‘My dear Bella, what a pleasant surprise.’

Bella sat down on the edge of the chair in front of his desk, folding her hands on her lap and looking him straight in the eye. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, Humphrey.’

‘Excellent. And what was your decision?’ Humphrey leaned back in his chair, eyeing Bella with a calculating gleam in his eyes.

‘You were right, I do need to move to a better neighbourhood closer to the theatre but at the moment it’s a question of money.’

Humphrey made an expansive gesture with his hands. ‘Not a problem, my dear.’

‘I want to keep this on a strictly business level.’

His lips twitched but he held her gaze without blinking. ‘Name your terms, Bella.’

‘I want a house in a good address, large enough for my family, preferably with a small garden. I want a guaranteed tenancy agreement for at least one year, with the option to renew it then, and no restrictions as to use.’

‘And what kind of use would that be?’

‘Not the kind you’re thinking,’ Bella said, smiling. ‘I intend to set up a perfectly respectable business as a modiste to ladies of fashion.’

Humphrey pursed his lips as if considering this idea. ‘And you intend to pay me back out of the profits of this venture?’

‘Precisely! But it will take a bit of time to establish the business. I will pay you back with a reasonable percentage of interest, beginning at the end of the first year.’

‘And if you can’t pay?’

A trickle of sweat ran down between Bella’s shoulder blades and her heart began to race but she forced her lips into a smile. ‘We’ll renegotiate then.’

‘That doesn’t appeal to me, my love.’ Humphrey leaned forward, his eyes clouding with desire. ‘We’re both adults, Bella, so let us stop pretending. You know what I want and I’m prepared to wait for just so long and no longer. If you can’t repay my investment, with interest at ten percent at the end of the first year, you will become my mistress.’

Shuddering inwardly, Bella nodded. ‘You have my word.’

‘I don’t usually wait so long for a woman,’ Humphrey said, taking out a gold cigar case and extracting a cigar. ‘But you have an exceptional talent and a degree of notoriety that adds a bit of spice as far as the audiences are concerned. They’ll turn up in droves to see a titled lady discarded by her rich husband and forced to sing for her supper.’ He snipped the end off his cigar with a silver cutter, pierced the tip and lit it with a match.

Alarm bells jangled in Bella’s head. ‘I don’t want that sort of publicity, Humphrey. Can’t we keep my married name out of this?’

‘If we do this deal we do it on my terms.’ Humphrey chewed on the end of his cigar, his smile fading and his eyes narrowed. ‘You put yourself professionally in my hands or we don’t do business.’

‘I have a child,’ Bella said, her voice breaking. ‘Desmond won’t let me have access to her and above all things I want her back.’

‘That’s your problem, Bella. Not mine. Now do we have an agreement or not?’

When she arrived back in Tanner’s Passage, Bella gathered everyone together around the kitchen table. Having told them everything, from Desmond’s vicious plan to put them out on the street, to her bargain with Humphrey Chester, she faltered and stopped, glancing anxiously at their faces as they struggled with the enormity of what had happened.

Kitty jumped to her feet. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Bella. You’ve suffered as much as any of us. It’s that rotten, stinking Sir Desmond who’s done this.’

‘You’re the best friend anyone could have,’ Bella said, smiling mistily, ‘but I brought trouble on this house simply by coming here. Can you ever forgive me, Betty?’

White-faced and with her eyes brimful of tears, Betty shook her head. ‘I don’t blame you, Bella, but it’s all come so sudden. I don’t know what to say.’

‘I can’t tell you how terribly sorry I am for what Desmond has done,’ Bella said, clasping her hands together to stop them from trembling. ‘I feel so guilty that you are suffering on my account, but I’m trying to make amends in the only way I know how.’

‘And there’s no alternative but to leave my house?’ Betty’s voice broke on a suppressed sob.

‘Not unless we can find sixty pounds, and even if we did I think Desmond would find another way to evict us.’

‘Bella is taking an awful risk if we fail, Betty,’ Kitty said earnestly. ‘But with Mr Chester’s money we can buy sewing machines and material. I think we’ve just got to stick together and make a success of what we do.’

‘I say we’re wasting our time sewing gowns for city folk,’ Maria said, glaring at everyone as if daring them to argue. ‘We can charge ten times as much if we get a rich clientele up West. I say we take a chance.’

‘And where do me and the nippers fit in with this grand plan?’ Maggie demanded.

‘We’re all in this together,’ Kitty said, casting an appealing glance at Bella. ‘You wouldn’t leave Maggie and the nippers behind, now would you, Bella?’

‘I might have answered differently once, but like Kitty says, we’re in this together. The children will go to a better school, and have more of a chance to get on in the world. Maggie, it’s up to you, but just stop and think. Do you want to send them to work in a factory at thirteen, or in the fish market? Haven’t you said dozens of times that you’re afraid to walk out round here just in case your Sid turns up?’

‘I should say so,’ agreed Maggie, turning pale and shuddering. ‘It scares me to death just walking to the school or to the corner shop in case I bump into him.’

‘You won’t see him again,’ Maria said. ‘He’s either dead from the drink or found himself a totty hardbake.’

‘No woman in her right mind would have him,’ Maggie said, with a wry smile. ‘But what if it don’t work out? What happens to us then?’

‘You’d be no worse off than you are now, ducks.’ Reaching across the table, Betty clasped her hand. ‘But Kitty is right, all working together we’ve got a chance. And, for myself, having the children around has helped me cope a bit better with losing our Polly.’

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Maggie’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘You’ve been so good to us, Betty. You know I’ll do anything I can to help. I’ll work me fingers to the bone, I promise you.’

Betty squeezed her hand. ‘Good for you, Maggie!’

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Bella realised that she would soon have to leave for the theatre. Unsteadily, she rose to her feet. ‘I’m not saying it’s going to be easy and we might fail dismally, so we all need to be agreed that it’s the right thing to do. Are you absolutely certain you want me to go ahead with this, Betty?’

Betty thought a minute and then her tired face creased into a smile. ‘I’ve got to think of Jem as well as myself. He needs somewhere to come home to, and now I know there’s no chance of saving this house, I say yes.’

‘I know just how difficult this must be for you,’ Bella said, with a catch in her voice. ‘I’ll do my best not to let you down again.’

‘You’ve not let us down,’ Kitty cried, rushing round the table to hug her. ‘It wasn’t none of your fault, Bella, just that beast Sir Desmond. I hate him.’

‘Don’t we all!’ Maria said, grimly.

Bella laid her hand over Kitty’s as it rested on her shoulder. ‘What about you, Kitty? You always wanted to work in a dress shop up West? What would you say if I put you in charge of selling gowns to fashionable ladies? Maybe you could design them, like the one you did for my first show? What do you say?’

As the last customer of the day left, followed by her maid carrying the finished ball gown, carefully wrapped in white butter muslin, Kitty closed the front door of the tall, narrow house in St James’s. It had been a long and tiring day, beginning at six o’clock in the morning. A quick glance at the long-case clock in the hallway told her that it was almost seven thirty in the evening, and there was still work to do. Kitty went into the salon, humming a popular tune, as she set the spindly gilt chairs back in a regimented line against the wall, taking care not to bruise the fashionable William Morris wallpaper.