Mr Cavell's Diamond (8 page)

‘
Franny, couldn’t you have been more careful? It’s not ladylike to have dirty shoes,’ she scolded. ‘Kick your slippers off, and come to me. I shall carry you from here.’

Jemima bent to retrieve the child’s shoes, but Caroline shook her head.
‘Leave them. She shall have new ones.’ She hoisted Frances onto her hip and continued walking. Soon they arrived at the Marine Parade house.

‘
Look, Franny, here’s your new home!’ she said. ‘What do you think, isn’t it a fine house? You shall have your own bedroom, and a maid to keep it tidy for you and to dress you and brush your hair. You shall be a lady, what do you think of that?’

Frances
buried her head against Caroline’s neck in reply. Caroline took a deep breath, and ascended the steps to the front door. Her plan was going well, but the most difficult part was still ahead. But whatever happened, Franny was in her arms and there was no way she would take her back now.

Jemima

My heart was jumping about like a spring hare as the Mistress entered the house carrying the little child. What would the Master do when he heard she’d brought home a baby? But the Mistress looked determined, and she put her lopsided smile on her face as she went into the sitting room where the Master was sitting drinking his tea, with Sultan at his feet.

I scurr
ied off towards the kitchen but the Mistress called me back and said she needed me in the sitting room and to bring the basket with all the things she bought today. I went in and set the basket down, glad to be done with the weight of it.

The Master look
ed at the child. His eyebrows raised a little. ‘Who is the child?’

The Mistress put the little girl down then, and Franny ran to me and hid her face in my skirt, a
-feared of the dog. I stroked her hair to soothe her. This was all very frightening for such a little one.

‘
Caroline?’ said the Master.

She hiccupped and pulled out a handkerchief to sob into. I look
ed at her in surprise – only a minute ago she was happy and smiling.

She sniff
ed and shook her head, unable to say anything. The Master went to her then, and gently stroked her arm. ‘Caroline? Take a minute to compose yourself, but you must explain. Who is the child?’

Again she sh
ook her head. Then she removed the handkerchief from her eyes, and looked up at him. ‘Forgive me, husband. I cannot speak for the story is such a sad one.’ Again she sobbed, then she looked directly at me. ‘Tell your master who she is, for me.’

Mr
Cavell turned his eyes on me then, and I felt my knees shake. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing come out.

‘
Well?’ he asked. His tone was gruff but his brown eyes were warm and gentle.

‘
She is my mistress’s niece, sir,’ I told him.

The master nod
ded at his wife. ‘I remember. The little girl you went to nurse when she was sick, a few weeks back. But why is she here now?’

Again the mistress look
ed to me to answer him.

‘
Her mother died and her father has gone to sea. He can’t look at the child,’ I said. In this way I repeated what I heard at the cottage, though it is not what I believe to be the truth. The mistress had sucked me into helping her deceive my master for the second time. I don’t know what words either the mistress or I could use to tell him the child is here to stay. He still had a look of confusion about his face.

Just
then the tot peeked out at him, and held up her doll for him to see. His eyes softened, and I saw our chance.
Our
chance, I say, for already I was hoping little Franny would indeed come to live with us, she was a sweet little thing. I gave her a gentle push towards him, and she pattered across the room. ‘My dolly,’ she told him, holding it up.

The mistress
were holding her breath. Me too. The master regarded the child for a moment which seemed like a month, before he hunkered down at her level, and inspected the toy.

‘
It’s a beautiful doll,’ he told her. ‘What is her name?’ As he said this he glanced up at Caroline and I knew he meant what is the child’s name.

‘
Frances,’ my mistress answered. ‘If you agree to adopt her, she shall be Frances Cavell. Does that not sound a name worthy of…’

‘
Adopt
her?’ the master interrupted.

I gasp
ed, the mistress looked at him in surprise and shock, and the little girl ran back to hide in my skirts. Even Sultan whimpered at his fierce voice. We all thought he was going to say he won’t agree to adopt the child.

He put out his hand a
nd beckoned Franny to go back to him. ‘Come, child. Sultan will not hurt you.’

‘
Then you agree to take her?’ the mistress whispered.

He
didn’t answer her, but smiled kindly at the child, who smiled shyly back at him.

The mistress blinked, then she too smile
d. ‘Is that a yes, then, Henry my darling?’

He nodded, still smiling at Franny.
‘You didn’t answer me. What is your dolly’s name?’

The little girl consider
ed for a moment. ‘Memima,’ she said.

The mistress turn
ed to me then. ‘You are dismissed. Tell the cook to provide tea for Frances in an hour’s time.’

I curtsey
ed and left the room. My heart were high for I love little ones, and Franny is a delight. I hope the mistress will allow me to play with her. I saw the jealousy in her eyes when the child named her dolly for me.

The household
is taking shape now. The master, mistress, a child, the dog. Mrs Smith, and me. I am happy here. I have a little day dream of myself and Frederick taking the child and the dog to play on the beach awhile.

Another thing I decided not to share with Mrs Smith. The little one is the spit of the mistress. I don’t believe Mrs Cavell is the child’s aunt, I believe she may be the child’s mother.

Chapter 7 – October-November 1830

Henry

Henry looked out at the grey, stormy morning with dismay. He’d hoped to take Sultan for a run on the beach, then walk along to Bedford Row to visit Dennett. He’d returned from a business trip to London only the day before, and was looking forward to a good walk on the beach, filling his lungs with the fresh sea air. But the sea was wild, the rain was lashing down and there’d be no point getting drenched. His business with Dennett could wait. He poured himself some coffee and sat down with the morning paper.

He’d barely finished reading the first column of the paper when there was a tap on the door. The maid Jemima entered, bringing the morning’s post. At her heels were, as usual,
Franny and Sultan. He smiled. The child and dog were rarely out of each other’s company, and both of them adored the shy little maid. She was a good worker, too. It was a shame Caroline didn’t like her, and was constantly finding things to complain about. But then, he supposed, Caroline didn’t seem to like anyone much, except Franny, and these days she complained about everything, not just the maid.

‘
Papa, Papa!’ squealed Franny, running across the room to him. Henry just managed to place his coffee cup safely on a side table before she leaped into his lap and kissed him repeatedly.

‘
Your post, sir,’ said Jemima, placing a bundle of letters beside the coffee cup, out of the child’s reach.

‘
Memima said I can help cook today,’ said Frances. ‘We’re going to make scones. For your tea.’ She nodded seriously. ‘Mama can have some too.’

‘
Well, we shall both like that very much,’ said Henry, hugging the little girl. Over the last year he had grown to love their adopted daughter very much. Her lively presence added much jollity to their household. He’d found he enjoyed the company of small children. If only Caroline would fall pregnant again, and provide Frances with brothers and sisters. But these days she rarely allowed him into her room, so a child of their own seemed a remote possibility.

‘
Miss Frances, here’s your breakfast,’ said the maid. Franny climbed down and ran over to the breakfast table, where Jemima helped her into a chair and tucked a napkin around her neck.

It wasn’t long before Caroline joined them. Henry looked up in surprise – his wife rarely rose from her bed before
noon. She was wearing her lopsided smile – an expression he knew all too well meant she wanted something. He greeted her then continued reading his paper. He’d find out soon enough what she was plotting.

Caroline rang the bell for the maid, and ordered fresh coffee. She poured some for herself and Henry.
‘Tell me, dear Henry, about your business trip. I trust it was successful? Tell me about London – are the houses very fine? And do the ladies all wear the very latest fashions?’

Henry flicked over a page of his newspaper.
‘Some of the houses are fine, but there are very large poor areas as well. We are lucky here in Worthing. It is such a new town, there has not yet been time for areas to become rundown and poor. Even the fishermen’s cottages look well maintained.’

‘
And the ladies of London?’ Caroline continued. ‘Their clothes? Are they not the most stylish, the most beautiful you have ever seen?’

‘
Some, I suppose, are well-dressed. Some, perhaps, are over-dressed. I wouldn’t know.’

Caroline smoothed her skirts and adjusted the sash at her waist.
Henry regarded her over the top of his paper. No doubt she hadn’t understood what he meant by over-dressed. He knew very well she believed one couldn’t have too many layers, frills and adornments. The richer your dress the better you looked.

‘
Henry dear,’ Caroline said. ‘Have you not thought that perhaps we should move to London? As so much of your business is in the capital, it would surely be better if we stayed there rather than here. At least for a season.’

Ah, so that’s what she was after. He shook his head.
‘But my love, you would hate it after a while.’

‘
Hate it? No I wouldn’t! What is there about London one could possibly hate?’

‘
The noise, the dirt, the stench of the river, the rookeries where no one dare venture.’ He folded his newspaper and regarded her for a moment. Her eyes were bright, her quirky smile in place and her head slightly tilted. He made a snap decision. Why not? There’d be no harm in taking her to London for the winter. ‘Well, Caroline, perhaps you are right. We
should
  spend a season in London. It would, at the least, get it out of your system I suppose. Perhaps we could stay in the Chelsea house. It’s been recently renovated but is still tenantless. I’ll make the arrangements and we can go in a fortnight. There, does that please you?’

‘
Oh, yes it does! Thank you, dear Henry. And now, how I long for the fortnight to pass!’ She pushed back her chair and rushed over to him, flinging her arms about his neck.

‘
Mind my coffee!’ he exclaimed. She was worse than Franny for becoming over-excited.

Caroline

Caroline couldn’t believe it was happening at last. One more day and she and Henry were finally off to London for the season. The trunks were packed, their places on the stagecoach booked, and Henry’s man of business in London had written to say that everything was ready for them in the Chelsea house. Caroline couldn’t stop smiling. One last thing to do before they were off, and there was time this afternoon to do it.

There was a chill wind blowing from off the sea, so she put on her warmest shawl and bonnet, and set off for the walk to her mother’s house. She considered taking Franny but it was too cold a day for her. The last thing she wanted was for the child to be unwell just as they started their new life.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Ann Simpson, as Caroline let herself into the house. ‘To what do we owe this honour? You never bother to visit unless you want something or have something to brag about. What is it this time?’ She was making bread, her sleeves rolled up, elbow deep in flour. Such a messy occupation, Caroline thought. Thank goodness she’d escaped all that!

‘
I just called by to tell you that we are leaving Worthing. So this will be the last you see of me for some time. Maybe for ever.’ Caroline looked around for a place to sit but the fireside chair had a layer of flour on it, and she was wearing a fine silk brocade, so decided against it.

‘
Leaving? Where are you off to, then?’

‘
London, Ma. For the Season. I’ll be going to balls every night, calling on important people every afternoon, and getting to know all the right people. It will be wonderful!’

‘
I’m sure it will be. And Franny?’ Ann brushed the flour off her hands and sat down at the table.

‘
She’s coming with us. We’re taking the cook as well.’

‘
You’re closing up the Marine Parade house then, are you?’

‘
Not quite. That servant girl, Jemima, the one you like, is staying on as housekeeper. The dog is staying with her too, thank goodness.’ Caroline shuddered. She’d never taken to Sultan and was glad he wouldn’t be in the London house, leaving hairs on all the furniture. Franny would miss him but that was too bad.

‘
That big house for just one young girl and a dog?’

‘
Henry doesn’t want to close it up completely. He has business interests in Worthing as well as London, and might need to come back from time to time. I, of course, shall stay in London.’

‘
Well, I hope you like it there.’

Caroline sniffed.
‘Of course I shall like it! London is where everything happens. It’s where all the fashionable people are, all the important people. I may meet princes and princesses, or even the King. In fact, I am sure to meet at least
some
of the royal family. We will, of course, be mixing in those circles. It is far superior to Worthing, in every way.’

‘
Good. Well, I must get on with baking my bread.’ Ann got to her feet and tipped her bowl of dough out onto the table. It sent a cloud of flour into the air, and Caroline took a step backwards, waving her hands in front of her face to try to stop the flour landing on her.

‘
Be careful, Ma! Have you any idea how much this gown cost? I don’t want it covered in flour.’

‘
Oh, you can just buy another if that one gets soiled, I don’t doubt,’ scoffed Ann. ‘So when will you be back to Worthing?’

‘
Perhaps never.’

‘
But I thought all the truly
fashionable
people leave London and come to the coast for the summer? Surely you wouldn’t want to stay there when everyone else has left?’

‘
Of course not,’ said Caroline. Did everyone really leave London in the summer, she wondered. Why on earth would they? She talked quickly to cover her ignorance, hating it when her mother knew more of society’s behaviour than she did. ‘But we’d be unlikely to come to Worthing. Brighton, perhaps. Or Bath, or where ever the very best people are going. Worthing is such a backwater.’

‘
If you say so. But it’s where you were born and brought up, and your parents before you, and your grandparents. I suppose you’re just too good for us now, aren’t you, madam? And will you be bringing little Franny, my own grandchild, to say goodbye before you go?’ Ann’s tone was harsh, but Caroline just shrugged.

‘
We leave tomorrow, so no, you will not see Franny again. I’ll tell her you sent your regards, shall I?’

‘
If it’s not too much bother, your ladyship. Go on then, go, leave your old Ma and go off to London. I hope you are happy there. But if you’ll take my advice, don’t take too much for granted. You’ve got yourself a rich man and an easy life, but make sure you’re careful you don’t throw it all away. He could tire of you yet, you know. It wouldn’t surprise me.’ Ann began pummelling the dough roughly, sending more clouds of flour in Caroline’s direction.

Caroline turned and left the house without another word. Her mother was jealous, that was all. Henry would never tire of her. He worshipped her, she was sure of it.