Tilly True (23 page)

Chapter Eleven

‘You!' Hardly able to believe her eyes, Tilly blinked hard, but when she opened them she was still staring up into Barney's smiling face and, annoying as it would seem, his smile had lost none of its happy-go-lucky charm.

‘That's a nice welcome, I must say.'

Uncertain whether she wanted to hit or hug him, Tilly took refuge in anger. ‘You got a nerve, turning up here like nothing has happened. After everything you put me through.'

‘Are you going to let me in? Or must I spend the night on the doorstep?'

Much as she would have liked to, Tilly could not slam the door in his face and she stood aside to let him pass.

Taking off his straw boater, Barney strolled into the entrance hall, tossing the hat onto the hallstand with a careless flick of his wrist. He stood for a moment, peering into the gloomy depths of the square hall. ‘Not much of a place they've given you, Frank, old chap. Did you do something to upset the archbishop?'

‘Don't be ridiculous.' Francis picked up a handful of post, sorting through the envelopes and circulars, staring at them as if he had already forgotten Barney's presence.

As Tilly went to pass him, Barney caught her by the arm. ‘I had to disappear. Force of circumstances and all that, but I left you in good hands.'

‘Good hands?' Jerking her arm free, Tilly somehow managed to control her voice. ‘You don't know the half of it.'

Francis looked up, frowning. ‘Barney, I don't know what this is about, but I won't have you upsetting my servants.'

‘Just a bit of unfinished business, Frank. Nothing to bother your head about.'

‘It's been a long day and I'm tired. Don't forget you're only here on sufferance and I want you gone by morning. I can't be seen to be harbouring a felon.'

‘Come off it, old chap. That's a bit strong.'

‘You've lost your job, you're up to your neck in debt and I hear that you're being sued for malpractice.'

‘A slight exaggeration.'

Caught in between them, Tilly cleared her throat. ‘Will that be all, your reverence?'

Staring at her as if he had forgotten her existence, Francis blinked and nodded. ‘Yes, of course, Tilly. And we'll have supper right away.'

‘Yes, sir.' Bobbing a curtsey, Tilly shot a black look at Barney and hurried off to the kitchen where she found Harriet making a vain attempt to rekindle the fire.

‘Oh, Tilly, how could you let the fire go out? Francis will be furious if supper is late. We're all tired and hungry; it's been a long, long day.'

‘Here, let me, Miss Hattie.' Tilly took the poker and found a glowing ember beneath the ashes. Taking a handful of kindling, she threw it onto the fire and, picking up the bellows, she worked them energetically until flames began to lick around the wood. Glancing over her shoulder, Tilly could see that Harriet was upset and she kept silent; this was obviously not the time for explanations or excuses.

‘It was a total disaster,' Harriet said, pacing up and down and wringing her hands. ‘Dolph . . . I mean our brother Adolphus might have listened but his dreadful wife would hardly let Francis get a word in edgeways. She made us feel like poor relations begging for charity. It was so humiliating; I really hate that woman.'

Tilly nodded, said nothing and, satisfied that the sticks were alight, she added a shovelful of coal.

Still pacing, Harriet continued to talk, more to herself than to Tilly. ‘Then Barney just walked into the drawing room. I thought Francis was going to have a fit. I've never seen him so angry and he accused Dolph of harbouring a criminal. Then Dolph was angry and said that Barney was a Palgrave and not a common felon and, anyway, he'd been staying in the dower house so technically he wasn't doing anything unlawful. It all got so nasty and Letitia was positively crowing, she was so pleased to see Francis put out. Now Francis is cross with Barney and Dolph is angry with both of them and I'm in the middle.'

‘I'm sorry to hear it, miss.' Taking the crock out of the oven, Tilly was relieved to find that it was still warm. Removing the lid, she tested the meat with the tip of her finger and found that it was tender to the point of falling off the bone. Placing the dish on the hob, she added more coal to the fire and turned to Harriet, who was now leaning against the dresser, breathing deeply and fanning herself with her hand.

‘Supper won't be long, Miss Hattie. You'll feel better when you've had something to eat.'

Harriet managed a tremulous smile. ‘What would I do without you, Tilly?'

In spite of her mixed emotions, Tilly managed to serve supper to the family in the oak-panelled dining room, where the smell of the previous vicar's pipe tobacco still lingered. Now that the cat had been returned to the verger, mice had reappeared with a vengeance, scuttling in and out of holes in the woodwork with the audacity of house pets, snatching up crumbs that fell from the table, and sitting on their haunches munching, apparently unafraid of their human hosts. Keeping busy gave Tilly temporary respite from the shock of Clem's declaration of love and proposal of marriage and Barney's unexpected and unrepentant return. Valiantly, she stifled the urge to tip the stew over his dark head, ignoring the irrepressible twinkle in his eyes and the disturbing curve of his sensuous mouth that still had the power to make her go weak at the knees.

Having cleared the main course, Tilly brought in a platter of bread and cheddar cheese, stepping over the mice on the way.

Shuddering, Harriet flicked her table napkin at a particularly bold rodent. ‘We really must get a cat of our own, Francis.'

‘Really, Harriet, there are more important matters than keeping the mouse population under control.'

‘I once found a whole nest of mice in my wig,' Barney said, grinning at Tilly as she laid the platter in front of him. ‘You should have seen Bootle's face; the poor chap is terrified of mice. I thought he was going to have a seizure.'

Finding it almost impossible to ignore him, Tilly bit her lip to prevent herself from giggling. Really, she thought, Barney was the most impossible rogue. One minute she wanted to strike him dead and the next moment he was making her laugh.

Francis did not look amused. ‘It's not a laughing matter, Barnaby. And you ought to be contemplating either giving yourself up to the authorities and taking your punishment like a man, or leaving the country and staying away until the scandal blows over.'

Having lingered as long as she dared, Tilly did not hear Barney's reply. Reluctantly, she returned to the kitchen and the clay sink piled high with dirty dishes. Emptying a pan of hot water into the sink, she added some soda crystals and swished the water with a dishcloth until the soda melted. Washing the dishes, she tried to banish Barney's smiling face from her thoughts but it seemed as though his essence was in the very air that she breathed. She realised, with a sense of shock, that she was actually pleased to see him again. In spite of everything, deep down she wanted to believe that he had trusted Jessie to see that she came to no harm, but that did not mean she was ready to forgive him.

The clatter of plates on the table behind her made Tilly spin round. Barney stood there, angling his head and giving her a speculative look. ‘Well now, tell me what went wrong. I can see you're harbouring a grudge, but honest to God, I thought I was leaving you in safe hands.'

‘You wasn't – I mean you didn't. Your friend Jessie Jameson is evil.'

‘That's a bit strong.' For once, Barney was not smiling.

‘When she heard you'd bolted, she made me pay for my keep like the rest of her girls.'

‘What?' The words exploded from Barney's lips. ‘What do you mean?'

‘What do you think I mean? She sold me to that bastard Stanley Blessed, the man I used to skivvy for. He was always trying to get inside my bloomers and she helped him do it.'

‘You mean you were raped?'

‘Well, I don't know what else you'd call it. She put me to sleep with some smelly stuff and when I woke up he was there . . .' Tilly's voice broke on a sob, but she brushed the angry tears from her eyes, pushing Barney away as he came towards her with his arms outstretched. ‘No, don't touch me. It was all your fault. You put me in jeopardy – see, I learnt that word working for you. I was a lady type-writer and you turned me into a tart and now look at me! Back to being a skivvy and you done it – I mean you did it.'

‘Tilly, honestly, I trusted Jessie. I'd never have left you with her if I'd thought for a minute that any harm might befall you.'

‘Really? Why don't I believe you? You was – I mean you were only thinking about saving your own skin.'

‘That's true. I admit I'm a selfish swine but I've never taken a woman by force. I'll have words with Jessie about this, I promise you.'

‘A lot of good that will do me. It's too late; you can't do nothing about it now.'

Taking Tilly by the shoulders, Barney gave her a gentle shake. ‘I'm so very sorry. Look at me, Tilly. I want you to believe me.'

Unable to speak, Tilly shook her head.

‘You are all right, aren't you? I mean, he didn't do you lasting harm . . . and you're not . . .'

‘I'm not in the family way, if that's what you mean. I'm over it now.'

‘My God, Tilly. I'd like to kill Blessed and wring Jessie's neck. I really thought I was looking after you.'

Looking up reluctantly, Tilly knew that he was telling the truth. ‘So you're sorry. Tomorrow you'll be gone and you'll forget all about me.'

A slow smile lit Barney's eyes and with one finger he tilted Tilly's chin. ‘That's not true. You're not the sort of girl a man could forget easily, Tilly True.' Bending his head, he brushed her lips with a kiss. ‘And I am deeply, deeply sorry for causing you pain and distress.'

The touch of his lips was lighter than the softest breeze but Tilly's lips burned and her blood fizzed with inexplicable desire. The scent of him was in her nostrils; the taste of him in her mouth and it was all she could do not to throw her arms around his neck, demanding more. Backing away, she wiped her lips on the back of her hand. ‘You're all talk and trousers. Go away and leave me alone.'

‘Don't worry; I'll be gone by morning. My brother Dolph has bought me a commission in the army. I'm going to join my regiment tomorrow and God knows where they'll send me.'

‘If that's true then why didn't you tell the Reverend and Miss Hattie? Why let them think the worst of you?'

‘Dolph refused to help Francis. I'm the black sheep of the family, so how do you think he'd feel knowing that our elder brother paid a large sum of money to be rid of me?'

‘He's a vicar. He's supposed to think good of everyone.'

‘He's human, Tilly. But I will tell Hattie and let her break it to him when I've gone.'

With her lips still tingling and her pulse not quite back to normal, Tilly tossed her head. ‘Good riddance to you, I say. You're nothing but trouble.'

Smiling deeply into her eyes, Barney laid his finger on her lips. ‘You don't mean that, my pet.'

‘I do mean it, with all my heart.' Even as the words left her mouth, Tilly knew that it was a lie.

‘You and I are the same kind of rascal, Tilly, and one thing I do promise you is that we will meet again. Somewhere, sometime, we will meet again.' With a mock bow, Barney saluted her and walked out of the kitchen.

Tilly pulled out a chair and sat down as her legs threatened to give way beneath her. What was happening to her? First Clem and now Barney, two men as different from each other as it was possible to be, and both of them, having upset her equilibrium, had gone off to be soldiers. ‘Bloody men!' Tilly said out loud. ‘Who flaming well needs them?'

‘We will have to make economies,' Francis said, standing with his back to Tilly and Harriet, staring out of his study window that looked out over the tops of the lichen-covered headstones in the graveyard to the church beyond. ‘Firstly, Mrs Mabb will have to go and you will have to tell her Harriet.'

‘Oh, no! Please, Francis, can't you do it? You know I'm scared of her, especially when she glares at me out of her one eye.'

‘Don't be a baby, Harriet. You are the lady of the house and it's your job to deal with the servants.'

Tilly cleared her throat; she could feel a pulse throbbing in her temple and her palms were sweating. If they could not afford Mrs Mabb's meagre wage, they almost certainly would want rid of her. ‘What about me, your reverence?'

‘Francis,' Harriet cried, clasping her hands and with her voice rising to a falsetto. ‘I can't manage without Tilly. Mrs Mabb, yes, but I'd die if Tilly weren't here to help me.'

‘Don't be so melodramatic, Harriet. Of course you wouldn't die, but I think we can manage to keep Tilly on, albeit with a small cut in her wages.'

‘Don't worry about that, your reverence. I'll do anything to help.' Tilly didn't add that she would work for nothing as long as she could stay, but she had the satisfaction of seeing Francis turn to her with one of his rare smiles.

‘We've come to rely on you, Tilly. It would be a black day for us if we had to lose you.' Sifting through the correspondence on his desk, Francis pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Harriet. ‘I've made a list of the economies I want you to make in the housekeeping, Harriet. We've been spending far too much on candles, paraffin and coal. From now on we will only eat meat once a week and buy the cheapest vegetables. Heaven knows, if the poor Irish can survive on potatoes then so can we.'