Her worst fears were realised when Lottie did not answer. Her lips were moving and she was muttering feverishly but her eyes were closed and even in the poor light Cassy could see that her friend’s face had a sickly pallor. She caught her breath in an agonised sob. She had seen symptoms like this amongst the infants in Biddy’s care and the outcome had invariably been fatal. Cassy’s heart contracted with fear. She could not allow her one friend to die. She closed her eyes, struggling to remember the words of a prayer that Bailey had taught her, but all she could think of was to plead with God to spare Lottie. What would Bailey have done in these circumstances? She made an effort to gather her scattered wits. Panicking would not help. She must keep calm. She laid her hand on Lottie’s forehead and frowned. Bailey had always insisted that fever must be brought down. She wished that he was here with her. He would know what to do.
Cassy made her way to the washstand and was relieved to find the pitcher filled with water. Miss North’s obsession with cleanliness had its uses she decided as she dampened the washrag and wrung it out. She bathed Lottie’s fevered brow, talking softly to her although she had no idea whether or not her friend could hear. The pealing of the bell made her jump but as she had no idea what it meant she ignored its urgent summons, and would have stayed there all night had not Miss Stanhope burst into the room. ‘Cassy! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You should not be here.’
Cassy eyed her warily. ‘I’m sorry, miss. I was looking after Lottie.’
‘That’s not your responsibility, my dear. Matron will look in from time to time, and you must go to bed. When you hear the bell it’s time for all the girls to return to the dormitory. Now hurry along, and if anyone says anything you may say that you were with me. But don’t let this occur again.’
Cassy nodded vigorously. ‘I won’t, miss. But you will look after Lottie, won’t you? I seen nippers taken off with the fever overnight.’
‘She’ll be well cared for. Now do as I say.’ Miss Stanhope patted Cassy on the shoulder. ‘Go to bed and get a good night’s sleep.’
But Cassy could not sleep. She lay awake long after the other girls had drifted off, and apart from their rhythmic breathing and the faint creaking of timbers contracting in the cold night air, the house seemed to slumber in silence. Eventually, when she could bear it no longer, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed from the dormitory, making her way downstairs to the sickroom on the first floor. She opened the door carefully, peering inside in case Matron was on duty at Lottie’s bedside, but the room was empty of anyone other than the sick girl. Cassy padded softly across the bare boards to stand by the bed. Lottie was mumbling feverishly, a jumble of disjointed sentences that made no sense to Cassy. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat and her thin fingers plucked irritably at the sheet.
All night, Cassy stayed at her friend’s side, bathing her with cool water and whispering softly to comfort her when she cried out in a fevered dream. In the early hours of the morning, long after the embers of the fire had turned to grey ash, Cassy was chilled and aching with fatigue. She climbed into the bed beside Lottie and held her hand. ‘I’m here,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t be afraid. I won’t leave you.’ She closed her eyes and wriggled down beneath the coverlet, feeling the warmth creep back into her chilled flesh as exhaustion overcame her.
‘It’s the coal hole for you, miss.’
Cassy was yanked from the warmth of the bed to land on the cold, hard floor. She blinked sleepily up into Miss North’s angry face. ‘Why, miss? What have I done?’
‘Matron told me you were here. Wicked child, you might have caught the disease and spread it around the whole school. You will have to learn obedience, Cassandra Lawson.’ Miss North turned to Matron who was standing by the door, wringing her hands.
‘I’m sorry, Miss North. I swear the child was not here when I last checked on the patient.’
‘Cassy is a serpent,’ Miss North said, narrowing her eyes. ‘She wriggles into forbidden places and plants her poison there.’
‘Cassy, is that you?’
Lottie’s voice from the pillows made Cassy leap to her feet quite forgetting Miss North’s anger. She clasped Lottie’s hand and raised it to her cheek. ‘You’re better. You ain’t going to die.’
‘Of course she won’t die.’ Miss North yanked Cassy away by the scruff of her neck. ‘The girl caught a chill, but she might have had typhoid or scarlet fever for all you knew, you stupid child. Coal hole, Matron. Cassy will stay there until supper time. I’ll tame her rebellious spirit if it’s the last thing I do.’ She turned her fierce gaze on Lottie. ‘You will remain in bed all day with no food. Starve a fever is what I was always taught. And if I catch you two naughty little girls behaving badly again you will be separated for the rest of your school days. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, miss,’ Cassy said, eyeing Lottie anxiously and being rewarded with a faint grin.
‘Yes, Miss North,’ Lottie murmured weakly. ‘I’ll try to be better.’
Matron grabbed Cassy by the arm. ‘Come along, miss. It’s the coal hole for you.’
During the next few weeks Cassy became well acquainted with the coal cellar. No matter how hard she tried to learn the school rules she seemed to fall foul of at least one a day. Sometimes the punishment was less severe and entailed spending the evening in solitary confinement in a classroom, attempting to write out lines. This itself was a struggle as she was only just coming to terms with the alphabet, and she found copying a sentence from the blackboard was both difficult and painfully slow. For more serious infringements of manners or as a penalty for her lack of learning, she would have to spend hours on a stool with the dunce’s cap on her head. But all this harsh discipline only served to make her more determined to beat the punitive regime by studying hard. In this she was helped by Lottie, who took her under her wing and coached her in reading and arithmetic, at which Lottie was both proficient and advanced for her age. The other girls still called them names, but their attitude began to change subtly as they saw how Cassy survived the chastisements meted out by Miss North. She bore them all with the stoicism she had developed in order to cope with Biddy’s beatings and neglect.
While Miss North did her best to break Cassy’s spirit, Miss Stanhope was the voice of sweet reason. She encouraged Cassy to learn, giving her extra tuition while she was in detention and, whenever possible, ignoring Miss North’s edict that Cassy and Lottie were to be kept apart. The strict routine of work, interspersed with long walks into the open countryside surrounding Highbury Hill, and a diet of plain but adequate food, had its effect on Cassy. They lived in Spartan conditions, getting up at five each morning and washing in ice-cold water in an unheated outside washhouse. The only warmth the girls experienced during the winter and cool spring months was in the common room after supper, when they huddled round the fire. Despite all this, Cassy had grown an inch or so in height by the end of the summer term, and she was now almost as tall as Lottie. As the prospect of a fortnight’s holiday drew nearer, there was a buzz of excitement amongst the pupils and staff alike. Not everyone could go home for the last two weeks in August, as some of the girls had absent parents with fathers employed either in the army or in the colonial office abroad. If they had no relations in England who were willing and able to collect them, they were obliged to stay on in school under the care of Matron and Miss Stanhope. Cassy wondered if Ma would come for her, but she had not had word from her since her arrival at the school. Lottie was going home to Whitechapel to spend time with her widowed father, and she assured Cassy that she would be more than welcome to accompany her. Cassy was grateful but she still cherished the hope that Lady Davenport would allow Ma to come and collect her.
During one of her many detentions, Cassy had laboriously written a letter to Mahdu, begging her to come on the last day of term and take her back to Duke Street if only for a few days. Miss Stanhope had taken it to the post office and paid the postage herself; one of her many small acts of kindness kept secret from the North wind. Certainly there was a definite chill in the air whenever Miss North blew into the room, and Cassy had seen the more timid pupils freeze on the spot when confronted by the headmistress’s icy stare. By the end of the summer term Cassy was almost beginning to feel like one of the girls, and they on the whole were treating her very nearly as one of them, but the difference between them still lingered in the atmosphere like the whiff of a strange and exotic scent.
On the very last day, the girls who were obliged to remain in school watched enviously as their more fortunate sisters stood in the hallway with their portmanteaux clutched in their eager hands as they waited for their families to collect them. Lottie had persuaded Cassy to accompany her, insisting that her pa would welcome her with open arms. ‘He’s always working,’ Lottie explained earnestly. ‘He keeps his shop open until all hours and sometimes he sits and sews all night if he has an important order to fulfil. My pa works harder than any man in London, and I’m going to do him proud. We’ll help him, Cassy, so you won’t feel you’re imposing. We can pick up the pins and tidy the spools of thread, and sort out the bolts of material. There’s lots we can do.’
Cassy had been persuaded, but she waited anxiously, watching the main entrance as the families arrived to squeals of delight from their offspring. Sometimes it was a coachman who strode in through the front door, or a maidservant or family friend, but gradually the girls disappeared one by one until it was only Lottie and Cassy left standing in the echoing silence of the tiled hallway.
‘Papa will come,’ Lottie said, squeezing Cassy’s hand. ‘He’s probably had to work until the last moment, or sometimes he sends one of his tailors if he can’t get away himself. We just have to be patient.’
Cassy nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat. Her hopes were fading fast. She would go with Lottie and be grateful for a good friend and a kind family, but that did not ease the pain in her heart or assuage the feeling of loneliness. Ma, it seemed, had forgotten her. Perhaps she had been relieved that her love-child was to be kept out of sight; tucked away and forgotten. Cassy’s thoughts turned as they often did to Bailey. She still missed him and she knew that he would not have willingly abandoned her. She felt like a parcel left in the lost property department at a railway station, unclaimed and unwanted.
Just as Lottie was beginning to fidget, the doorbell clanged and Moss stamped along the tiled floor with a petulant shrug of her shoulders, making it plain that she would be glad to see the last of the young ladies for a fortnight. Cassy held her breath but Lottie ran forward with a cry of delight. ‘Papa, you came.’ She flung her arms around a small man, knocking his stovepipe hat sideways so that it sat at a comical angle on his dark head. He wore steel-rimmed spectacles and a well-cut if slightly shabby jacket over a waistcoat which he had forgotten to button, perhaps in his hurry to meet his only child. He clutched Lottie to his chest, and Cassy was surprised to see tears trickle down his sallow cheeks, but she could see by his smile that they were tears of joy and her heart swelled with happiness for her friend, even though a pang of something like envy caused a shiver to run down her spine.
Lottie drew away from her father, setting his hat to rights with a happy chuckle. She turned and beckoned to Cassy. ‘Come and meet my dear papa. Don’t just stand there. We’re going home.’
Cassy was about to join them when a tall young man strode through the open door, coming to a halt as he glanced around and his gaze fell on her. She stared back at him, wondering who he could be, and why he was looking at her as though she ought to know him. She angled her head, suddenly curious. He was dressed in a smart grey suit that quite put the small tailor in the shade. He wore a red carnation in his buttonhole and he carried a silver-topped ebony cane which he pointed at her, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Since you’re the only one left, I suppose I must take you, brat.’
Cassy glanced over her shoulder just in case one of the other girls had entered the hall, but she was standing on her own. She pointed to herself. ‘Who? Me?’
He swept off his top hat and a lock of blond hair flopped over his brow, which he dashed back with an impatient hand. Despite his arrogant stance, Cassy realised that he was little more than a boy, even younger than Bailey. He wielded his cane like an épée, pointing it at her throat. ‘Name and number, brat.’
Cassy drew herself up to her full height although she only came up to his elbow. ‘I dunno what you’re talking about, mister. I got a name but as to a number I dunno what you’re talking about.’
‘Are you all right, Cassy?’ Lottie hurried to her side, glancing anxiously at the stranger. ‘Who’s this?’
‘I dunno,’ Cassy whispered.
‘Come home with me,’ Lottie said urgently. ‘He could be anybody.’
‘I’m instructed to take Miss Cassandra Lawson to Lady Davenport’s house in South Audley Street, but if she don’t want to come then that’s fine by me. I’ve got better things to do than run errands for a maidservant.’ He set his hat back on his head with a pat of his hand and, turning on his heel, he strode out through the front entrance.
‘No, stop,’ Cassy cried. ‘Stop, please. Wait for me.’
Chapter Nine
Belinda stood by the window in her boudoir, peering down at the traffic in South Audley Street. Her fingers drummed an agitated tattoo on the sill. ‘Where is that boy? He should be here by now.’
Mahdu continued her task of folding freshly laundered undergarments and placing them neatly in the rosewood clothes press. ‘Give him time, larla. It’s a long way to Highbury and the roads will be busy at this hour of the day.’
‘It seems such a long time since I last saw her,’ Belinda said, sighing heavily. ‘I’ve wanted so much to visit her in that wretched school.’
‘I too, larla, but it would not do.’
‘No, of course not. You’re right, as ever, Mahdu. But I can’t sleep at night for worrying about her. Are they being kind to her? Will the colour of her skin make her an object of derision amongst the so-called young ladies? I know how cruel children can be.’
‘If the other girls treat her badly it will only be because they are jealous,’ Mahdu said stoutly. ‘When a child is as lovely as Cassandra it is only natural that she’ll become the object of envy and spite, but from what I’ve seen of her she is a brave little girl and spirited just like her mama.’
Belinda’s lips trembled into a smile. ‘My spirit was broken ten years ago, Mahdu. I don’t want that to happen to my daughter.’
‘It will not.’ Mahdu shut the drawer with more force than was strictly necessary as if to emphasise her point. ‘While I have a breath left in my body I will do everything I can to protect her.’
‘I know you will, darling Mahdu.’ Belinda’s eyes filled with tears but a sound from the street below made her resume her vigil and brought a cry of delight from her lips. ‘They are here, Mahdu. Ollie has brought her home to us.’ Picking up her skirts she hurried to the door. ‘I can’t wait to see her.’
Moving swiftly for a woman of her age, Mahdu crossed the floor to catch her mistress by the wrist. ‘No, larla. Remember who you are. You must wait here and I will bring her to you.’
‘You’re right, as usual,’ Belinda said, bowing her head with a sigh. ‘I was forgetting myself and my position in my husband’s house. Go downstairs and greet her, Mahdu. Give me time to compose myself. I’ll see them both in the drawing room, where I’ll try to act out my part in this sorry tale of deceit and lies.’ Clinging to her last thread of self-control, she did not look up until she heard the click of the latch as Mahdu left the room. One sympathetic glance from her faithful servant would have undone her completely, and she could not afford to allow her emotions to get the better of her. She remained motionless for a few moments, telling herself that she must keep calm at all costs. If the truth were to come out now they would all be ruined and she would have no chance of helping her illegitimate child. Belinda was under no illusions as to Sir Geoffrey’s reaction if he discovered that she had given birth to another man’s baby. Divorce would inevitably follow, disgrace and ostracism by polite society. She would be cast off penniless and ill-suited to earning her own living. Poverty and destitution were the lingering threat that kept many women in unhappy marriages.
Belinda checked her appearance in the dressing table mirror, and pinched her pale cheeks until the colour returned to them. She bit her lips until they became rosy and she stretched them into a smile, but the eyes that stared back at her were hauntingly sad. She took a few deep breaths, held her head high and left the comparative security of her boudoir to make her way slowly to the drawing room on the floor below. She had just arranged herself on one of the elegant but uncomfortable sofas when Mahdu entered after a perfunctory tap on the door. She stood aside as Oliver breezed into the room as if he had not a care in the world. ‘Ho there, Stepmother dearest. I’m delivering my charge to you, although goodness knows what you’ll do with the skinny little thing. She’s not spoken a word since I collected her from that ghastly mausoleum.’ He turned to Cassy with a peremptory flick of his fingers, as if he were summoning a well-trained gundog to heel.
Belinda clutched her hand to her heart in an attempt to still its violent thudding against her stays. The blood was drumming in her ears, momentarily deafening her, and it was all she could do to remain seated when her instinct was to leap to her feet and enfold the small girl in her arms. ‘Come here, child,’ she whispered. ‘Let me look at you.’ Her breath caught in her throat as she saw once again her daughter’s likeness to her beloved George; the love of her life who had died without knowing that he was to be a father.
Cassy approached her slowly, almost warily Belinda thought with a pang of dismay. Surely the child was not afraid of her? She held out her hand and smiled. ‘Come closer, Cassy. Sit by me and tell me about yourself. Do you like school? Are they kind to you? I’m afraid I didn’t enjoy my time there and was delighted when my parents sent for me to join them in India.’
Cassy’s dark eyes widened. ‘You was at Miss North’s academy, missis?’
‘My lady,’ Mahdu said, stepping forward to lay her hands on Cassy’s thin shoulders. ‘You must learn proper manners, Cassy.’
‘Sorry, Ma.’ Cassy’s hand flew to her mouth and she glanced anxiously at Mahdu. ‘I never meant to call you that. It slipped out.’
‘So that’s it!’ Oliver gave a hoot of laughter as he sprawled in a damask-covered chair by the empty grate. ‘That’s why I was sent halfway across London to bring her here. She’s your brat, Mahdu. I should have guessed.’
Belinda shot him a withering glance. ‘Be silent, Ollie. It’s not a matter for discussion. You know nothing of the circumstances and I’d be grateful if you would keep this to yourself.’
Oliver tapped the side of his nose, grinning widely. ‘Absolutely. I’m as silent as the tomb, as trustworthy as . . .’
‘Thank you,’ Belinda said firmly. ‘We aren’t playing similes. This is a serious matter.’
‘Enough said. I’ll just sit here and keep quiet.’ Oliver folded his hands across his chest, making an obvious effort to suppress a chuckle.
There was something infectious in his ability to find humour in the most stressing situations and Belinda found herself relaxing a little. She shook her finger at him but she too was smiling as she turned her attention to Cassy. The child was eyeing her with those dark, almond-shaped eyes that would one day send men’s hearts soaring heavenwards, of that Belinda had no doubt. There was a sweetness in Cassy’s expression that had not been vanquished by her harsh upbringing or the rigours of school life. Belinda felt her own heart melt with love for her child who would soon be growing to womanhood, and she knew that she would give her own life to protect her. She took Cassy’s small hand in hers. ‘Don’t be afraid, Cassy. Mahdu will fetch you some refreshments and you can tell me all about school. Is Miss North still called the North wind? She must be getting on a bit now as she was there twenty years ago when I was a pupil.’ Belinda signalled to Mahdu with the barest inclination of her head, knowing that her faithful servant and companion would carry out her instructions without the need for further explanation.
‘I’d like a glass of porter, Mahdu, my love,’ Oliver said, flashing a smile in her direction. ‘And a slice of pork pie would go down nicely, with a few pickles on the side.’
Mahdu inclined her head in acknowledgement as she left the room.
‘Come on then, nipper,’ Oliver said cheerfully. ‘Let’s hear all about that school of yours. What have you learnt? How about a few Latin declensions for a start?’
‘Don’t tease her, Ollie,’ Belinda said, shaking her head at him. ‘And don’t take any notice of my stepson, Cassy. He was sent down from Eton for being drunk and disorderly, so he has no right to sit in judgement of anyone, let alone a child almost six years his junior.’
‘That’s something I know a bit about,’ Cassy said eagerly, as if relieved to find a mutual topic of conversation. ‘Old Biddy was drunk and very disorderly. She could put away a pint of gin with no trouble at all and not turn a hair, but another half-pint and she’d take on any of the men in Three Herring Court and win, but only if they was swipey too.’
Belinda caught her breath on an involuntary burst of laughter but she controlled her mirth with difficulty. ‘I don’t think you should repeat that story too often, Cassy.’
‘Have I said something I shouldn’t?’ Cassy looked from one to the other, her mouth drooping at the corners and her eyes suddenly wary, like a young doe startled by a footfall and the crack of a twig.
‘No, nipper,’ Oliver said, making an obvious effort to be serious. ‘You told the truth but it ain’t exactly the sort of story you tell in a drawing room, if you get my meaning, but you can come to the pub with me and entertain my friends any time you like.’
‘That’s enough, Ollie,’ Belinda said severely. ‘Don’t make fun of the child. It isn’t her fault.’ She turned to Cassy, who was looking extremely discomforted. ‘You aren’t to know any of these things, which is why I would like you to stay here with me for your summer holiday.’
Oliver leaned forward in his chair, suddenly alert and unusually serious. ‘To what end, Stepmother? What’s the point of educating a child from the slums when in all likelihood she’ll go back there as soon as you finish with her?’
‘That’s not how it will be,’ Belinda said, shocked into retaliating by his shrewd assessment of the case. ‘With a good education and a little training, I’m sure that we can find a suitable position for Cassy. She’s an intelligent girl and I intend to take her under my wing.’
Oliver shrugged his shoulders. ‘Can’t think why, but good for you, I say. Where’s that pie and porter? A chap could die of starvation waiting to be fed in this house.’ He winked at Cassy. ‘What about you, brat? I bet they feed you on pigswill in school. I’m sure you could manage something tasty to eat.’
‘I am a bit hungry,’ Cassy admitted. She glanced up at Belinda. ‘My ma can take care of me, mis— my lady. You shouldn’t have to bother your head about a chi-chi from Cripplegate.’
Belinda gasped in horror, hardly able to believe her ears. She shot a warning glance at Oliver, who was grinning widely. ‘Where did you hear that awful word, Cassy?’
‘They call me that at school,’ Cassy said wearily. ‘I’m used to it now. I get teased all the time about my dark skin and hair, but so does Lottie and she’s a Jew. She says that people are like that and you’ve just got to ignore it and get on with your life. Lottie’s my friend and her papa said I could go and stay with them in Whitechapel where he has a tailor’s shop. So if you find me too much of a handful, you can always send me there.’
‘There you are; a solution to the knotty problem at last,’ Oliver chortled. ‘You can send us both to the tailor’s shop in Whitechapel. Perhaps that could be my calling in life. I’m sure I’d make a damn fine tailor. Better that than a soldier, I daresay.’
He spoke with such a twinkle in his green eyes that Belinda was forced to smile despite her concern for Cassy. She held up her hand. ‘No one is going to Whitechapel. It was very kind of the gentleman to offer you a home for the holidays, Cassy, but I want you here, and I know that Mahdu would be very unhappy if you were to go away so soon. As for you, Ollie, I think your plan of joining the army is a far better one. I can see you as a dashing young officer, but somehow the vision of you sitting cross-legged on the floor, sewing a seam, doesn’t fit.’
Oliver opened his mouth to reply but closed it again with a satisfied sigh as the door opened and Mahdu ushered in a maid bearing a tray laden with food.
Belinda watched her daughter attack the food, stuffing bread and butter into her mouth as though she had not eaten for a week. The child’s table manners were appalling but she could not bring herself to make a comment until Cassy cut a slice of pie and attempted to eat it off the point of her knife.
‘No,’ Belinda and Mahdu cried in horrified unison.
Cassy dropped the knife in fright, staring at them nonplussed. ‘What did I do?’
Mahdu bustled towards her, snatching up the knife and a fork. She placed them in Cassy’s hands. ‘Don’t they teach you anything at that school? You don’t eat off a knife, my girl. Do you want to cut your tongue off and remain a mute for the rest of your life?’
‘They don’t let us have knives at school,’ Cassy murmured, blushing and hanging her head. ‘We have spoons and forks. I didn’t know I done wrong.’
‘Of course not,’ Belinda said hastily. ‘It’s not your fault. Just enjoy your meal. There will be plenty of time for lessons in table manners. We have two whole weeks before you have to return to school.’
Mahdu frowned. ‘Have you thought this through?’ she whispered. ‘Where is the child to sleep? And what do I tell the other servants?’
‘A tricky question,’ Oliver said, spearing a pickled onion on his fork. ‘Dashed difficult thing to hide a ten-year-old kid, especially when she’s got an appetite like a donkey.’ He winked at Cassy who immediately put her knife and fork down, leaving her meal half eaten.
‘It’s none of your business, Ollie,’ Belinda said severely. ‘Cassy is my protégée and your father likes me to keep myself occupied with good works.’
Cassy pushed her plate away and leapt to her feet. ‘Ta, lady. But I ain’t a charity case. I’ll work and pay for me keep like a good ’un. Bailey always said you don’t get nothing for nothing, and I can see he was right.’
Shocked by the vehemence of her child’s outburst, Belinda stared at Cassy in amazement. ‘Don’t upset yourself, my dear. You are my guest and there’s no question of you having to work during your holiday.’ She sent a questioning glance in Mahdu’s direction. ‘Who is Bailey?’