The Winter Belle, page 2
Amethyst sashayed ahead of her sisters, glancing from side to side as if interested in the items for sale, but Kitty knew she was looking for young Bracklesham and, although it was tempting, she managed to refrain from teasing her younger sister. Kitty could see that Ivory was not entirely comfortable mixing with people she considered to be lower class, but there was a buzz of energy in the building that Kitty found exhilarating. The combination of voices raised to make themselves heard above the hubbub and the cries of vendors was deafening, and they were jostled in the crowd – whether deliberately or accidentally it was hard to tell. Kitty came to a halt by a stall selling jars of jam and pickles, but she shook her head when the trader offered her two for the price of one. With a murmured ‘No, thank you’, she walked on, stopping again before another stand. At this one there were lace shawls, embroidered handkerchiefs, tablecloths and napkins, together with a dozen or more rag dolls, all prettily dressed. Another stall was glittering with paste jewellery and shining strands of glass beads. Amethyst lingered a little too long at this one and had to be moved on by Ivory.
‘I hope you are not thinking of setting up in competition, Kitty,’ Ivory said in a low voice, coming to stand beside Kitty. ‘I am not going into trade. Mama would have a fit if you even suggested such a thing.’
‘You are always embroidering one thing or another. Why not make some money by selling the articles?’ Kitty picked up a handkerchief and examined the stitching.
‘Don’t finger the goods unless you intend to purchase them, miss.’ The woman behind the table glared at Kitty, who immediately replaced the hanky. ‘Nice work, but I’ll have to think about it, ma’am.’ She hurried on with Ivory close behind.
‘Is there a point to this, Kitty?’ Ivory demanded when they had stopped for the sixth or seventh time to study the goods that were for sale.
‘I’m just getting ideas.’ Kitty turned to her with an eager smile. ‘We could rent a stand and earn money so that we can help with the household expenses. You saw how worried Mama was when she returned from the bank.’
‘I suppose so,’ Ivory said doubtfully. ‘Although I think she would rather we found husbands who could keep us in comfort for the rest of our lives. I hate seeing that disappointed look in her eyes whenever the topic is raised.’
‘We are not débutantes, Ivory. None of us is ever likely to snag a duke, although Amy seems to be doing quite well when it comes to lower down the scale.’ Kitty laughed and pointed to their sister, who was standing in front of the bakery, talking animatedly to two well-dressed young gentlemen. ‘I think that is Bracklesham’s son, but I’ve never seen the other fellow before.’
‘She will soon have a reputation as an incorrigible flirt if we don’t put a stop to this, and that would definitely harm our chances in the marriage stakes.’ Ivory walked on purposefully, leaving Kitty little option other than to follow her.
Amethyst was still chattering, and the two gentlemen appeared to be listening intently, but they stood back when Ivory marched up to them.
‘Won’t you introduce me to your friends, Amethyst?’ Ivory’s tone was less than friendly.
Kitty realised that Amethyst was unusually at a loss for words, and she smiled, holding out her hand.
‘I believe you are Laurence Carnaby. I am Kitty Harte, and this is my sister Ivory. How do you do, sir?’
Carnaby raised Kitty’s hand to his lips. ‘How do you do, Miss Kitty?’ His green eyes sparkled with amusement as he turned to Ivory. ‘How do you do, Miss Harte?’
Ivory inclined her head in silent acknowledgement, which Kitty knew was not a good sign. It was obvious that Ivory disapproved and was not in the mood to be charmed, even by someone as bold and attractive as the Honourable Laurence Carnaby.
Seemingly undeterred, Carnaby laid his hand on his friend’s arm. ‘May I introduce my good friend, Charles Westbrook?’
‘How do you do, Miss Harte?’ Westbrook bowed to Ivory and then to Kitty. ‘How do you do, Miss Kitty Harte?’
‘How do you do, sir?’ Kitty bobbed a curtsey simply because it seemed the correct thing to do, especially as Ivory remained tight-lipped and aloof. Kitty eyed him curiously. Charles Westbrook was slightly taller than Carnaby, who was by no means short. They were both good-looking, but Carnaby had a boyish charm with dark curly hair cut stylishly. He was dressed in the height of fashion, although Kitty thought privately his style was a little too flamboyant, whereas Westbrook was clad expensively but more soberly. His fair hair was smoothed back from a high forehead and his grey eyes were fringed with thick lashes that would be the envy of any woman. Kitty tried not to be impressed, but she was beginning to have some sympathy for Amethyst.
‘You will excuse us, gentlemen,’ Ivory said firmly. ‘But we have to leave you now.’ She took Amethyst by the hand and walked away.
Kitty bobbed a curtsey. ‘Good day, gentlemen.’ With some reluctance she hurried after her sisters.
‘You didn’t have to do that, Ivory,’ Amethyst said crossly. ‘I was simply talking to them. There’s no harm in that.’
‘You were openly flirting with that young man.’ Ivory headed for the door. ‘I think we should return home, since you can’t be trusted to behave with decorum.’
Kitty caught up with them. ‘That’s not fair, Ivory. Even if she was flirting just a little there is no one of importance to have seen it.’
‘That’s hardly the point, is it?’ Ivory came to a halt. ‘But I can see that I’m outnumbered. I’m going home. You two may stay here if you must, but, Kitty, don’t expect me to be a part of any mad scheme to rent a stall here.’
‘Do as you please, Ivory, but don’t try to prevent me from doing what I think best.’ Kitty faced her with a defiant toss of her head.
‘I can see that nothing will change your mind,’ Ivory said stiffly. ‘Amethyst, come with me. I don’t want to leave you here alone.’
‘I’m not alone,’ Amethyst protested. ‘I’m with Kitty.’
‘That’s what I mean.’ Ivory looked from one to the other, shaking her head. ‘Very well, if that’s how it’s going to be I wash my hands of both of you.’ She marched off, heading for the exit.
Amethyst turned to Kitty with an excited giggle. ‘Laurence is still there and he’s looking this way. You wouldn’t be such a spoilsport as to stop me from talking to him.’
Kitty hesitated. ‘All right. You may have a few minutes while I go in search of the matron who I believe oversees the women’s stalls.’
‘You’re really going to rent one, Kitty?’ Amethyst’s blue eyes widened in surprise. ‘After what Ivory said?’
‘Someone in this family must take charge. Mama seems to be helpless, and Ivory is too grand to mix with the hoi polloi. I, on the other hand, am willing to smile and take their money if it will keep a roof over our heads.’
‘But what would we sell? I’ll gladly help you, but I can neither sew nor make fancy goods, and I certainly can’t make jam.’
‘I have no idea, Amy. But I’ll think of something. Meet me back here in ten minutes. I’m going to change our world for the better.’ Kitty did not wait for an answer. She had noticed a door marked ‘Matron’ on the far side of the Bazaar. Quite how she was going to find the required amount of advance rent was something she would worry about later. First of all, she had to convince the matron that she had a foolproof business plan.
Chapter Two
Kitty smiled as she watched Amethyst hurrying to join her new friends. Ivory would not approve, but there could be no harm in a little dalliance, and Amethyst’s forward behaviour was not Kitty’s main concern. Now, faced with the reality of their financial situation, Kitty was suddenly nervous. It was all very well to sound bold and positive, but as she stood outside the matron’s office she was assailed with doubts. She was about to back away when the door opened.
‘Were you looking for me?’ A stern-faced woman in her mid- to late forties stood, arms akimbo, looking Kitty up and down as if costing each garment she was wearing.
‘You are in charge here, ma’am?’
‘I am Matron Hume, and I am responsible for the stands rented by ladies who wish to earn a living for themselves and their families.’
‘I would like to rent one,’ Kitty said firmly.
Matron Hume held the door open. ‘Come inside and sit down. Let me take your particulars.’
Kitty followed her into the small, rather dark office. Most of the space was taken up by a large knee-hole desk, which was piled high with documents. Matron went to sit behind the desk, motioning Kitty to pull up a chair.
‘Fill out this form, if you please, Miss er . . .?’ Matron passed a sheet of paper to Kitty.
‘Harte. Kitty Harte, ma’am.’
‘There’s an inkstand somewhere beneath these papers. I really must settle down to do some filing, but keeping an eye on what goes on out there takes most of my time.’
Kitty moved one pile of documents at a time until she came across the inkstand. She settled down to fill in her name and address, but when it came to the question of what she intended to sell, she hesitated.
‘Have you a problem, Miss Harte?’ Matron’s expression was not sympathetic. ‘Don’t you know what merchandise you intend to sell?’
Kitty glanced around the office, looking desperately for inspiration. What caught her attention was a rather poor copy of The Fighting Temeraire, which hung on the wall behind Matron’s desk.
‘Is that a painting by Mr Turner, ma’am?’
Matron puffed out her chest. ‘Mr Turner sold a few of his early paintings here, Miss Harte. I believe he purchased some of his artist’s materials from a stall in the Bazaar. He was a great artist and his death from cholera has saddened us all.’
Kitty could see that Matron Hume was something of an art lover. ‘I have seen many of his works at the National Gallery, ma’am. I am a painter myself, although not in the same class as a genius like Mr Turner, but I would like a chance to sell some of my watercolours in the Bazaar.’
‘I would have to see some samples of your work before I agreed to allow you to rent a stand, Miss Harte.’
‘I understand that perfectly.’ Kitty handed her the completed form, which was mercifully short. ‘I will bring them in later today, if that’s convenient.’
‘It is. I am here all day today. If I let you have a stall you will pay rent each day, but if for any reason you cannot attend you will still have to honour the agreement or get someone to take your place.’
Kitty nodded. ‘Of course.’ She knew who would volunteer to take her place; in fact, it would be impossible to keep Amethyst away from the Bazaar, and she might even use her youthful charm to sell some paintings. ‘Thank you, Matron Hume. I will be back later.’
Kitty rose from her seat and let herself out of the office. The only problem now would be to convince Mama that selling her artwork was a respectable trade. That was going to be the hardest task of all. Kitty walked over to where Amethyst had taken up where she had left off with her two admirers.
‘I’m sorry to drag her away, gentlemen,’ Kitty said, smiling, ‘but we have to return home now.’
Laurence acknowledged her with a pleasant smile and a nod of his head. ‘Of course. We mustn’t detain you, but I hope we shall meet again very soon.’
Sir Charles bowed from the waist. ‘Good day, ladies. I echo my friend’s sentiments.’
Kitty felt herself drawn to him, but she was eager to return home and speak to her mother. The prospect of working in such a busy, exciting environment was exhilarating. She took Amethyst by the hand. ‘Come along, Amy. I have urgent business at home.’
Amethyst opened her mouth as if to argue, but a stern look from Kitty had the desired effect. ‘Goodbye, gentlemen,’ she said with a pert toss of her head. ‘I will no doubt see you tomorrow.’ She allowed Kitty to guide her through the crowded Bazaar and out into the street.
The rain had turned to sleet so it was fortunate that their house was only a short distance away. Once indoors, Kitty took off her bonnet and cape.
‘Don’t say anything to Mama, Amy,’ Kitty warned as she headed for the staircase. ‘I have an idea that might work, but first I need to find all my sketches and paintings.’
‘You’re going to set up a stall and sell them?’
Kitty put her finger to her lips. ‘Shhh! I don’t want Mama to hear about it until I have decided if my paintings are good enough to sell. I’m not at all sure that anyone would want to buy them.’ She did not wait for an answer.
On the top floor there were two decent-sized attic rooms. Nellie occupied one and Cook had had the second one to herself before she was compelled to find a position elsewhere. There was a small boxroom, just big enough for a truckle bed, where a housemaid might sleep, and at the far end of the corridor was a space that Kitty had always referred to as ‘the junk room’. It was here that anything not in current use, but too good to throw out, was stored. As it was lit by only a roof window, it was difficult to make out what lurked in the deep shadows, but Kitty’s easel and box of paints were fortunately within easy reach.
She pulled up a slightly rickety chair and sat down to leaf through a portfolio containing her watercolour paintings. There were a few tinted sketches of Soho Square gardens and some landscapes that she had painted when visiting their grandmother in Highgate. She had gone through a stage when all her works were detailed pencil drawings of plants and flowers, which she had then coloured with pastels. However, her best works were the sketches she had made of people, including her own sisters. Kitty closed the portfolio and took it downstairs to her bedroom, which overlooked the small yard at the back of the house. The lamplighter had already been on his rounds in Dean Street and no doubt the square would be well illuminated by the time she was ready to go out again. Kitty laid the portfolio carefully on a small table by the window and lit a candle before going to join her mother, Ivory and Amethyst in the drawing room.
Seated by the fire, her worn face pale despite the heat from the flames, Isabella looked up, frowning.
‘What is this that I hear from Amethyst? You are going to take a stall in the Bazaar, even though you know what I think of that den of iniquity?’
Kitty shot a reproachful look at her younger sister. ‘I asked you not to say anything, Amy.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ Amethyst shrugged. ‘Well, if you did, I obviously misheard you.’
‘I’m surprised at you, Kitty.’ Ivory stabbed her needle into the material stretched over the embroidery hoop. ‘You will let the whole family down.’
‘If I am successful, I will save us from losing our home,’ Kitty said stiffly. ‘Have you any better ideas, Ivory?’
‘This isn’t about me. I have done nothing wrong.’ Ivory picked up a pair of silver scissors and snipped the thread.
‘Surely there must be another way,’ Isabella said desperately. ‘To take a stall in that notorious place will stain your character, Kitty, and by association it will ruin all your chances of making a good match.’
‘We won’t meet many eligible men in the workhouse, Mama.’ Kitty spoke more sharply than she had intended, and the sight of tears in her mother’s eyes made her feel ashamed of her quick tongue. ‘I am sorry, Mama. But someone must do something and do it very quickly.’
‘Stop it, Kitty.’ Ivory jumped to her feet and went to put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘You don’t know when to cease.’
‘I am genuinely sorry, but none of you is facing up to the truth.’ Kitty turned to Nellie, who had just walked into the room. ‘What do you think, Nellie?’
‘I don’t know what’s been said, but your mama don’t look too happy. What’s going on, Kitty?’
‘She wants to set up a stall in the Bazaar,’ Ivory said angrily. ‘Neither Mama nor I agree with the idea.’
Nellie put her head on one side. ‘Why not? It seems quite sensible to me.’
‘But it’s a place where louche gentlemen go to ogle young women,’ Isabella said in a low voice. ‘Kitty would be in trade.’
‘Better to be in trade than in prison for debt, Mrs Harte dear.’ Nellie folded her arms across her flat chest. ‘As far as I can make out, the young women who run the stalls are looked after by the matron.’ Nellie turned to Kitty. ‘What was you intending to sell, my duck?’
‘My paintings, Nellie. That’s if Mrs Hume, the matron, thinks they are saleable.’
‘You are a blooming good artist, Miss Kitty. Anyone would be pleased to have one of your watercolours on their wall.’
‘Don’t encourage her, Nellie,’ Isabella said faintly.
‘I will so, ma’am. And you should, too, if you’ve a grain of sense.’ Nellie picked up the empty scuttle. ‘We’ve just enough coal left to last the week, Mrs Harte. Maybe that will change your mind since the housekeeping money has already run out and we’re only halfway through January.’
‘That settles it, Mama.’ Kitty faced her mother with a steady gaze. ‘I am sorry you don’t approve, but if Papa had known about our predicament, he would have told me to go ahead.’
Isabella brushed tears from her cheeks. ‘He would not have wanted you to risk your reputation in such a way, Kitty.’
‘If it’s a choice between my reputation and survival, I know which one I choose, Mama.’
Kitty left the room before Ivory could side with their mother, as Kitty knew she would. Amethyst, on the other hand, would keep her opinions to herself, and Nellie would no doubt calm the situation.
Minutes later Kitty was dressed in her bonnet and cape with her portfolio tucked under her arm as she left the house and hurried to the Bazaar. She arrived outside Matron’s office almost bumping into Mrs Hume as she was about to leave.
‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t wish to detain you any longer than absolutely necessary, but I’ve brought my portfolio with me. Could you possibly find time to look through it for me?’
Mrs Hume glanced at the large white-faced clock on the wall above their heads. ‘I am late for an appointment. Leave the folder on my desk and I’ll have a good look at your work in the morning.’
