The Button Box, page 32
‘Thank you, miss. He’s a little monkey, always up to mischief.’ She cuddled the child to her bosom and hurried back to join a group of chattering women.
‘That was well done indeed.’
Clara spun round to see a tall, handsome gentleman, nattily dressed in a grey frock coat and striped trousers, with a glimpse of a shot-silk waistcoat in shades of brown and gold.
‘He is very little,’ she said lamely.
‘And you saved him from sudden death.’ He spoke perfect English, with a hint of a French accent, and his eyes were a startling shade of blue set beneath straight black eyebrows.
‘I don’t think so.’ Clara smiled, unable to resist his innate charm. ‘But I might have saved him from a nasty bump on the head.’ She shivered, as the breeze sharpened.
He proffered his arm. ‘You are cold, Mademoiselle. Shall we promenade around the deck? We might persuade ourselves that we are on a steamship crossing the Atlantic to New York.’
His pleasant expression and caressing tone of voice made it impossible to refuse and Clara took his arm without giving it a second thought. ‘It is getting a little bit chilly,’ she agreed.
They walked slowly and his witty conversation and gentle banter made the minutes fly past. It was only when Nathaniel stepped out of the saloon and almost cannoned into them on their second or third lap of the deck that Clara realised how it must look.
‘Who are you, sir?’ Nathaniel demanded suspiciously. ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’
‘It’s quite all right, Nat. This gentleman and I have been taking the air. It’s very bracing.’ She knew she was blushing like a naughty schoolgirl, caught out in the act of playing truant, but she hoped that her escort would put her rosy cheeks down to the bracing wind. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know your name, sir?’
He doffed his top hat with a flourish. ‘I, on the other hand, am well aware of your identity. You are Miss Clara Carter and I assume this gentleman must be your musician friend.’
‘How the devil do you know that, sir?’ Nathaniel faced him with a pugnacious set to his jaw.
‘Yes,’ Clara added, staring at him curiously. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Dagobert Duclos, or you might know me better as Bert Bragg.’
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ Clara demanded angrily. ‘If so it’s in very poor taste.’
‘You didn’t seem to think so just now, my dear. I thought we were getting along very well until your friend popped out of the saloon like a jack-in-the-box.’
‘You’re a wanted man, Bragg, or whatever name you are using at present.’ Nathaniel slipped a protective arm around Clara’s shoulders. ‘I have only to alert the captain and you will be held until we dock in Dover.’
‘On what charge?’ Bragg’s lip curled and his eyes narrowed. ‘Go away and play your fiddle. Don’t interfere in matters that don’t concern you.’ He fixed Clara with a piercing gaze. ‘Where is Gertie? I know she boarded the ship with you, and I will have her the moment you disembark.’
‘You will not,’ Clara said angrily. ‘If I’d known who you were I wouldn’t have passed the time of day with you.’
‘But you did, my dear, and I believe that you enjoyed our time together. Don’t try to deny it.’
‘You tricked me. You should have made yourself known.’
‘I might say that you were a ripe peach ready for plucking. Given the right time and place, I think your seduction would have been complete.’
Nathaniel uttered an enraged roar and took a swing at Bragg, who dodged with the nimbleness of a ballet dancer.
‘I should call you out for insulting a lady.’ Nathaniel squared up to him, raising his fists.
‘My dear fellow, surely you don’t want to risk breaking the bones in your hand by striking me?’ Bragg said, smirking. ‘I am an expert in the art of fisticuffs, an excellent marksman and an accomplished swordsman. If duelling were legal I would gladly take you on, but I am a law-abiding citizen.’
Clara grabbed Nathaniel by the arm. ‘Don’t let him provoke you, Nat. Can’t you see what he’s doing? He wants to put you in the wrong so that you will end up in custody, not he.’
A glimmer of respect flickered in Bragg’s eyes. ‘You are a clever lady, and as such I suggest you take your musical friend back to your cabin. But be aware, I will await Gertie on the dock and I will have her. She belongs to me.’
‘It’s time someone told you the truth,’ Clara said furiously. ‘I was going to leave it to your mother to put you straight, but you’ve left me no choice.’
He replaced his hat at a jaunty angle. ‘I am shaking in my shoes, my dear. I doubt that Madame Duclos will listen to a shop girl like you.’
‘Patches Bragg is not your mother.’ Clara paused, meeting his cynical glance with an unblinking gaze. ‘It’s true that she raised you, but your real mother is Lady Quinn.’
His bark of laughter startled a seagull that had landed on the ship’s rail. It flew off to circle overhead, mewing and shrieking. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘You were swapped at birth. Patches’ baby was stillborn and your father, Laurent Duclos, placed the infant that his young mistress had given birth to hours earlier in the cradle. Patches doesn’t know that you are a cuckoo in the nest.’
His shocked expression would have been comical in any other circumstances. A succession of emotions flitted across his face. ‘You’re lying.’
‘I am telling you the truth. Your father took advantage of a fourteen-year-old girl who had run away from home and was working as a waitress in Montmartre.’
‘And you believed the word of a common prostitute?’
‘No, although I wouldn’t have disbelieved a woman just because she had fallen on hard times. Your mother is Lady Quinn, or Garland Batt, as she was before she married Sir Freddie. Gertie is her younger sister and that makes her your aunt.’
Bragg’s pallor was tinged with green. ‘It’s a pack of lies.’
‘Clara is telling you the truth,’ Nathaniel said triumphantly.
‘Even so, it doesn’t change my plan. Lady Quinn will pay a considerable ransom for the return of her sister, and I intend to collect it.’ Recovering his aplomb, he doffed his hat and walked off with a swagger in his step.
‘So that is the infamous Bert Bragg,’ Clara said slowly. ‘He seemed to be such a gentleman.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive. He’s a dangerous man.’ Nathaniel guided her towards the companionway. ‘We’d better make sure that Gertie is all right.’
Clara nodded. ‘Of course. But I think I should warn her that Bragg is on board.’
‘Are you going to tell her who he really is?’
‘No, I don’t think she’s strong enough to learn the truth, not yet anyway. That will have to come later.’
Nathaniel patted her on the shoulder. ‘I’ll be in the saloon, but I’ll come back before we dock at Dover.’
Clara entered the cabin to find Gertie wide awake and reclining on the bunk. ‘I’m feeling much better now, Clara. I thought I might take a turn on deck.’
‘That’s not a good idea.’ Clara gave her a searching look. The colour had returned to Gertie’s cheeks and she seemed much more like her old self. ‘There’s something I must tell you.’
‘Sit down, please. Looking up at you is making my neck ache.’ Gertie made room for her, and Clara obeyed, reaching out to take Gertie’s hand in hers.
‘I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I’ve just met Bert Bragg.’
Gertie sat upright, withdrawing her hand. ‘Does he know where I am?’
‘He must have had us followed, but we won’t let him get his hands on you again, Gertie.’
‘I was a fool to get involved with him in the first place, but if you’ve met him you must have seen why I was so attracted to him.’
Clara nodded. ‘How did you meet? I know you lived in Paris once, but that’s all.’
‘I always knew that Garland resented me. She was fifteen when I was born and as soon as I was old enough she sent me to a convent school in Paris. She was about to marry Freddie Quinn and I was a nuisance.’
‘She did mention something of the sort.’
‘I wasn’t convent material,’ Gertie said, chuckling. ‘A couple of us used to sneak out at night and we used to visit a café in Montmartre, hoping that someone would buy us drinks. We were young and pretty and there were plenty of offers, none of them honourable.’
‘I suppose you were caught.’
‘Yes, and I was expelled. The nuns were more forgiving in Marie-Claude’s case because her papa was a prominent member of the Government and very rich. They didn’t want to lose his patronage, whereas I was just an unwanted girl from England whose sister paid the basic fees and nothing more.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Clara said sincerely. ‘It must have been very hard for you.’
‘Not at all. I was free and I intended to enjoy every minute. I went to the café and sat drinking coffee all day until I spotted the man I had in mind. He was many years my senior but he was charming and he was rich. He set me up in rooms close by and I became his mistress. I was, even if I say it myself, a courtesan of some note. I moved in the best Parisian circles and I lived a life of luxury.’
‘Did your sister know about this?’
‘Of course she did. Garland pretended to be shocked, but I had heard rumours about my dear sister. She is not as pure as she likes people to think.’
‘So why did you return to London? And why were you hiding in the attic? You were in a terrible state when we found you.’
Gertie turned her head, avoiding Clara’s inquisitive gaze. ‘I never allowed myself to care too deeply for any of my lovers. It was purely business as far as I was concerned, and then I met Bert who was the love of my life, but he betrayed me. He was only interested in the fortune that I had inherited but had never claimed, and that’s all he wants now.’
‘I am so sorry,’ Clara said sincerely. ‘That must have been a hard blow.’
‘The hardest, but I am recovered now.’ Gertie sniffed and dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘He is nothing to me, but I had to see him one last time, which is why I agreed to accompany you to Paris. I wanted to make sure that any feeling I had for him had died.’
‘And is it so?’
‘Most definitely.’
Clara turned her head at the sound of someone at the door. She was about to leap to her feet but she subsided with a sigh of relief when Nathaniel walked into the cabin.
‘The white cliffs have come into sight. We’re almost home.’
When the ship docked in Dover there was a rush for the gangway. Clara glanced round anxiously but there was no sign of Bert Bragg. Even so, she clutched Gertie’s hand and Nathaniel kept as close to them as was possible in the midst of the pushing and shoving as passengers, eager to get ashore, surged forward in a solid mass. They had to join the queue of people waiting to hire cabs, and Clara glanced nervously over her shoulder, half expecting to see Bragg striding towards them.
‘Maybe he’s learned his lesson,’ Nathaniel sug-gested in a whisper. ‘Perhaps he’s too ashamed to show his face.’
‘There’s no need to treat me like a child,’ Gertie said angrily. ‘I’m not afraid of him.’
Clara was about to answer when a cab drew to a halt in front of them and the door flew open. Luke leaped to the ground.
‘Get in, quickly.’ He picked Gertie up and tossed her into the vehicle. ‘Now you, Clara. Don’t argue.’
She was about to resist when he lifted her off her feet and dumped her on the seat beside Gertie. ‘What’s going on?’ Clara caught him by the sleeve. ‘Did Bragg put you up to this?’
‘I came to Dover to meet Bragg, and then I saw you attempting to hail a cab. You’ve got to get away before he sees you,’ Luke said urgently.
‘But he knows we were on the ship,’ Clara protested. ‘Why are you still with them, Luke? I simply don’t understand.’
‘You will one day.’ He turned to Nathaniel. ‘See them safely home.’
Nathaniel hesitated, but Luke had already directed the cabby to take them to the station and Nathaniel only just managed to climb inside as the vehicle pulled away from the kerb. He collapsed onto the seat.
‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll be very glad when we get back to London.’
‘Bert might be a villain,’ Gertie said solemnly, ‘but he’s not stupid enough to try to kidnap me on English soil. He’s too crafty for that.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Clara said, sighing. ‘I don’t know why Luke has risked his freedom to be here, but it must be something serious.’ She leaned back against the scuffed leather squabs. The relief of being back in England was tempered by fear. From what she knew of Bert Bragg, he was not going to give up without a fight. The fact that he knew the truth about his birth might fuel his hatred of Lady Quinn, although that in itself seemed odd. Clara could only think that such a strong emotion must have been fostered by Patches, for reasons best known to herself. Gertie was still unaware of the truth, and Clara was afraid that the shock of such a revelation might be too much for her to bear, coming so soon after her experience in France.
‘There’ll be plenty of time for discussion when we get home,’ Clara said firmly. ‘I don’t know why Luke helped us, but we must be glad that he did. Perhaps he was plagued by a guilty conscience, I simply don’t know.’
Nathaniel glanced out of the window. ‘I can see the railway station. We’ll be home soon and I can’t wait to be back in London.’
Walking into The Button Box brought tears of happiness to Clara’s eyes. The shop was busy by any standards, and the ringing of the till was the sweetest music of all. Jane was the first to see them and she hurried from behind the counter to throw her arms around Clara’s neck.
‘You’ve come home. Why were you away for such a long time?’
‘I’ll tell you everything later, but we’ve brought Gertie with us, and it was quite an adventure.’
‘Miss.’ The shrill voice of a middle-aged matron brought them back to the present. ‘Miss, are you serving or are you not?’
‘I’m sorry, madam.’ Jane returned to her post.
Clara walked to the linen counter where Betsy was measuring out a length of calico. ‘Don’t stop,’ Clara said when Betsy looked up and saw her. ‘Where’s Lizzie?’
‘Upstairs with the painter. He’s almost finished and it looks wonderful.’ Betsy turned back to the customer with a bright smile. ‘I’m sorry, madam. Four yards, was it?’
Clara led the way through to the kitchen and was met with a scene of total chaos. Her sisters had obviously put all their efforts into the shop, but their culinary efforts looked like a disaster. Pots and pans were piled high in the sink, and the table was littered with the remains of at least two meals. The floor was covered in dust and ash from the fire and the smell of sour milk and rancid butter made her stomach churn.
Gertie had followed her into the room and she came to a halt, gazing round with a look of horror. ‘It looks as if we could do with a scullery maid.’
‘And a cook, too.’ Clara took off her bonnet and draped her mantle over the back of a chair. ‘Where is Nathaniel?’
‘He asked me to tell you that he’s gone to his lodgings to change his clothes.’ Gertie gazed down at her crumpled and soiled skirt. ‘I think I could do with a wash, or a bath would be nice.’
Clara rolled up her sleeves. ‘I’ll stoke the fire if you’ll fetch some water from the pump. Do you feel well enough to help?’
‘I’m ready for anything now that I’m free from those people. I’d happily watch Patches swing from the gallows for everything she’s put me through – and Bert, too. I can’t believe that I once thought I was in love with him. He looks and sounds like a gentleman, but he’s a monster.’
‘Forget him for now, Gertie. Let’s get this place straight before we do anything.’
Gertie went outside to fill buckets and Clara riddled the ashes, adding more coal to the glowing embers. When she was satisfied that the fire was burning well she went to find Lizzie, and to her delight she saw that the stair carpet had been fitted and the banister rail cleaned and polished until it gleamed. She ascended the stairs, feeling quite grand, even though it was her own shop. The smell of paint lingered, but the effect was startling. No longer was it a grey uninviting space; it was now light, bright and welcoming. The gilded second-hand chairs were arranged against one wall, and Lizzie was balancing precariously on a box as she pinned a pelmet above the changing-room door. She stepped down and came to meet Clara, smiling broadly.
‘So you’ve come home. I hope you had a lovely time in Paris.’
Clara kissed her sister on the cheek. ‘I’ve so much to tell you, but it will have to wait until we’re all together.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Lizzie held her at arm’s length. ‘I know you too well, Clara. You never could keep anything from me.’
‘We found Gertie in terrible conditions. She was being kept prisoner by Patches’ men.’
‘But you must have rescued her or you wouldn’t have come home.’
‘We did, but she’s still in danger. Bert Bragg isn’t what you might think, and he’s dangerous.’
‘You met him?’
‘Yes, on board the paddle steamer, although I didn’t know who he was at first. I can see why Gertie fell for him, but there’s more to it.’
Lizzie turned to the painter who had just finished putting the last touches to his work. ‘Thank you. That’s splendid. Go downstairs and my sister Jane will pay you.’
He tipped his cap and headed for the stairs, giving Clara a curious look as he left the room.
‘Now then,’ Lizzie said eagerly. ‘You can’t leave me in suspense. Come and sit down. You must tell me everything.’
Clara had to unburden herself. She had kept the truth from Gertie, thinking that it was best for Lady Quinn to explain how and why the situation had come about, but it was a relief to tell Lizzie the whole sad story.
‘Well, I never did,’ Lizzie said when Clara finished speaking. ‘Who would have thought it? And more to the point, what are you going to do about it?’
