Children of Fortune, page 14
Outside on the concourse, there were one or two beggars sitting on the pavement, who merely looked up at the brother and sister and didn’t approach them. Carriages were waiting for fares and drivers were standing by them. Laurie noticed that two of them had the Snowden insignia on the doors and both drivers had their heads turned towards them. The lads looked at each other and then one of them walked over to them.
He tipped his forefinger to his top hat at Laurie, who appreciated the fact that Joseph Snowden supplied a smart uniform for his drivers. ‘Good morning, sir – miss.’ He inclined his head towards Alicia. ‘Would you be Mr and Miss Fawcett-Newby?’
Laurie answered that yes, they were, but they hadn’t expected to be met.
‘Miss Olivia’s instructions, sir,’ the driver said. ‘I believe she has made plans.’ He raised a quizzical eyebrow as if to say You know what ladies are like.
‘In that case,’ Alicia said, ‘we’d better come with you. We don’t know where Mason Street is anyway.’
‘Easy enough to find, miss.’ He held the carriage door open for her. ‘But a bit of a stretch if you don’t like walking. I’ve been asked to take you to ’stable yard.’
She giggled at Laurie as they set off, and said in a languid little voice, ‘And I’m only used to walking from one carriage to another in my tiny little shoes.’
Laurie smiled. ‘He’s not to know how often we tramp round the estate; you’re dressed like a young city woman. A London gel,’ he mimicked. ‘As Mama says she once was.’
‘Should we give him a gratuity?’ Alicia said. ‘He might be missing out on a fare.’
‘Oh, yes. I suppose we should.’ He fumbled in his trouser pocket and brought out a sixpence. ‘Is that enough, do you think?’
She gave a little shrug. ‘Probably. I don’t know. Aren’t we lucky to be innocent of worldly affairs?’
‘Town and city affairs yes, but we know the price of grain and dairy products and the cost of a loaf of bread.’
‘True,’ she nodded. ‘Of course we do.’ She leaned forward. ‘Do you know what? I really hope that Olivia takes us to see her aunt’s bakery and café. Maybe we could have a cup of coffee and slice of cake with her.’
‘I can’t imagine Mademoiselle Leblanc in a cap and apron,’ he said. ‘She’s so very elegant. Do you think most Parisian women look like her?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m hoping I’ll find out next year.’
‘Oh, you still want to go to school there! I didn’t realize that you were so serious.’
‘We’re deadly serious,’ Alicia told him. Glancing out of the window, she murmured, ‘I think we’re nearly there; we’ve just passed the church that Olivia told me about. That didn’t take long, did it?’
The driver passed a gated garden on the left, turned right at the top of Jarrett Street, then immediately left into a narrow street with a metal sign that announced it to be Charlotte Street Mews.
The driver pulled up outside a large gate that had a wooden board above it bearing the same insignia as on the carriage doors. He put out a hand to Alicia, who took it and smiled. ‘Thank you.’ Laurie, following her down from the carriage, surreptitiously slipped sixpence into the driver’s hand and was surprised when he gave him a knowing wink.
‘Just through the gate, sir, miss,’ he said. ‘Mr Snowden’ll be in one of ’stalls, I should think. Ah, here he is,’ he added as Joseph came out into the yard, followed by Olivia, who wore a plain brown cotton dress with a sacking apron over it, and a pair of rubber boots on her feet. In her hand she carried a sweeping brush.
‘Here I am in all my finery,’ she called gaily. ‘Do excuse me,’ adding a ‘Thank you, Parker’ to the driver, who touched his forehead to her.
She looks lovely, Laurie thought. It wouldn’t matter at all what she wore, she’d still be beautiful. He smiled and raised his hand in greeting.
Joseph shook his head and said jocularly, ‘I said to Olivia that she’d be caught out if you were early, and now she has been. What a beggar girl she looks.’
‘These are my friends, Papa.’ She pretended to punch him. ‘I’ve seen Laurie in his working clothes, and Alicia too when we were helping with the harvest. Perhaps you could come too if we’re invited again. You’d enjoy it.’
‘Manners to wait until asked,’ Joseph teased her. ‘Now, young man, would you like to come along in and look at ’rest of my hosses? I’ve got some here at ’livery which aren’t mine, and I know you’ll want to see Captain again. Are you staying, Olivia, or taking Miss Alicia to see Gran?’
‘Just Alicia, Mr Snowden, not Miss,’ Alicia pointed out. ‘We’re not used to formality, except with grown-ups.’ She smiled, her cheeks dimpling.
‘Then I’m overruled,’ Joseph joked, ‘cos I’m not yet a proper grown-up. Come on then, lad,’ he said to Laurie. ‘Let’s show you our team. We’ll be over for a cup of tea in half an hour, tell Gran.’
‘We’re just round the corner,’ Olivia said to Alicia, tucking her arm into hers. ‘Just a step, as my grand-mère would say.’
‘Your grand-mère,’ Alicia said. ‘What does she think of her French title?’
‘She doesn’t really like it,’ Olivia said. ‘I really only say it to tease. She likes me to call her Gran, says she feels like a proper grandmother then, and I tell her that she is. She’s the only one I have.’
‘Mm.’ Alicia contemplated. ‘Well, I call my mother’s parents Grandmama and Grandpa, and Papa’s – Edward’s – mother is Granny Mags. I think we’ve always called her that.’ Then she added regretfully, ‘Gampa Luke died a while ago. We still miss him.’
‘And what about your … natural father’s parents? What names do you give them?’
Alicia lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘We never see them. They don’t visit or write. They’ve cut us out of their lives since Charles’s death and Mama’s remarriage. Mama says she doesn’t think they like children, they didn’t even like their own son or daughter.’ She paused for a second. ‘I’d almost forgotten about her: my aunt Anne. She came to visit us once when we were small. She scared Laurie and me; she seemed angry about something and yet triumphant too. How odd! I haven’t thought about her from that day to this and it must be … maybe ten years ago. I wonder what happened to her?’
Olivia paused, grasping a cast-iron handrail at the bottom of steps leading up to a town house with a solid front door and a shiny door knob. ‘So even with conventional families, nothing is ever straightforward,’ she said, ‘and I thought that it would be.’
Alicia laughed. ‘There is nothing conventional about our family, Olivia. I don’t think there is such a thing.’
Olivia opened the door and invited her friend in. There was a smell of polish and another one of something baking too.
‘Lovely smell,’ Alicia breathed in. ‘Bread? It smells like our kitchen.’
‘Gran said she was baking scones, even though I told her I was going to take you to Lucille’s Pâtisserie & Petit Bistro for lunch.’
‘Oh, how lovely. I was hoping to see it. Laurie said he couldn’t imagine Mademoiselle Leblanc in an apron and cap because she’s so elegant.’
‘She is, isn’t she?’ Olivia smiled. ‘I hope I look like her one day. We’ll get that aura when we’ve been schooled in Paris.’
‘Do you think so?’ Alicia followed Olivia down the long hall towards a door that she thought might lead to the kitchen.
Olivia nodded and whispered, ‘I’ve got Grand-mère on my side as well as Tante Lucille; now we just have to work on Papa!’
The door opened and Mrs Snowden stood there, holding a tea towel. ‘I thought I could hear whispering. Olivia, take Miss Alicia into the sitting room, not bring her into ’kitchen! Good morning, miss,’ she added to Alicia, and shook her head disparagingly. ‘That girl!’
‘Alicia commented on the lovely smell of baking, Gran; that’s why we headed this way,’ Olivia said, and sighed. ‘Come on then, Alicia, about-turn.’ She gave a wicked grin and said over her shoulder, ‘Pa said they’d be here in about half an hour for a cup of tea.’
Mrs Snowden flapped her tea towel at her. ‘Go on then. The scones are just about ready.’
A table in the front window was already set with cups, saucers and plates and spotless, beautifully ironed table napkins. Alicia sat down and looked out. ‘You have a good view of people walking by,’ she said, and pointed a finger opposite. ‘That’s the street we came up. Jarrett Street, isn’t it? We passed a garden, and the church that you told me about as a landmark.’
‘Yes, I thought if you were walking you could ask for directions to St Charles. It’s a lovely church, with fabulous hangings. It’s so called because of Charles Borromeo, who was Archbishop of Milan and later canonized, so there are churches named after him all over the world. But then Papa said one of the drivers could pick you up.’
Olivia slipped out of the room to wash her hands and change her dress. Whilst she was gone Mrs Snowden came in carrying a tray holding a teapot, a jug of milk and a plate of scones. Alicia got up to take the things from the tray and put them on the table.
‘Thank you, m’dear,’ Irma Snowden said. ‘Not used to being waited upon?’
‘We’re all taught to help,’ Alicia said as she arranged the plates on the table. ‘Mama says we must learn what the housekeeping staff does for us and we’ll appreciate them all the more; besides,’ she added with a mischievous smile, ‘our cook is Papa’s aunt, her son Aaron, who is head groom, carriage driver and general factotum as Papa calls him, is his cousin, and including Mrs Hallam and Mrs Gordon they’ve all been at the house since before Laurence and I were born, so there’s absolutely no chance whatsoever of any of us getting above ourselves!’
Mrs Snowden held the tray with one hand while the other she put on her hip and gazed at Alicia. ‘Well, I never!’ she said, astonished. ‘I’d never have guessed.’
Alicia dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘And the reason is that all the female staff absolutely adore my father, and although Aaron doesn’t know that we know, we know that he loves my mother and always has done.’
Mrs Snowden opened her mouth to say something, but before she could think of a suitable response Olivia came back into the room wearing a clean lemon-coloured summer frock which just reached her ankles. She had undone her plait, and her black hair, brushed and shiny, hung down her back to her waist.
They’d finished a pot of tea and eaten a scone each, and Mrs Snowden had come back to sit with them and listen to their chatter, when Laurie and Joseph came in. They washed their hands before sitting down at the table.
Laurie looked animated. ‘Such good stock, Alicia,’ he murmured. ‘And Captain is just splendid.’
‘Twenty-first birthday present, then?’ she suggested. ‘Where does he come from?’ she asked Joseph.
‘I’d been looking for some time,’ he told her. ‘I’d read reports in several journals and it took a couple of years before I heard of a set-up in North Yorkshire which was breeding them, so I wrote to them and took a ride out to have a look for myself.’
Laurie was unusually animated, asking questions of Joseph Snowden about the Morgan breed; he drank a cup of tea and ate a scone, but Alicia saw Olivia glancing at the clock. ‘Do you wish us to be going out, Olivia?’ she asked.
‘Well, if we want to have lunch at Lucille’s Petit Bistro, I think perhaps we should. She does get very busy across lunchtime.’
‘Indeed,’ Mrs Snowden said. ‘You should be making tracks now! Let me re-plait your hair, Olivia, and then wear your bonnet, and you’ll pass all right for lunch out.’ She was her usual practical self, but Laurie and Alicia saw how proud she was of Olivia, and thought how blessed she must feel to have her in her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Olivia led them in a different direction, towards the centre of the town and the town docks. They walked from the Queen’s Dock, which was crammed with shipping from many countries, and crossed the road to cut down the side of the warehouses at Prince’s Dock waterway, where they saw local shipping as well as the ferry from Rotterdam, before turning into a side street with many old buildings which brought them out into the Market Place.
There wasn’t a market that day, but Holy Trinity church right in front of them had its doors open wide in welcome. They didn’t go across the square, however, but with Olivia in the lead turned right towards a variety of shops and businesses, and finally stopped at a café and bakery where tiered cake stands in the window displayed the most appealing pastries: croissants, canelés, éclairs filled with chocolate and cream, and other tantalizing confections that made their mouths water.
A wooden sign extended over the window and above the door with a sketch of a bridge over the River Seine on which the words Lucille’s Pâtisserie & Petit Bistro stood out in attractive gold lettering.
‘Goodness,’ Alicia gasped. ‘Does your aunt make all of these?’
Olivia nodded. ‘She does. Isn’t she wonderful? I’ve tried most of them and they simply melt in the mouth.’
‘We’d better go in, then,’ Laurie said. ‘My treat.’
Of course he wasn’t allowed to pay. The young serving girl, who was dressed in black with a white apron and cap, brought them a jug of coffee, a large plate bearing an assortment of cakes and pastries, and large snowy white napkins to cover their clothes. Laurie tucked his under his chin and invited Olivia and his sister to choose first.
The café was busy, some ladies eating dainty sandwiches filled with salmon and cream cheese whilst greedily eyeing the plates of canelés and cream-filled choux pastries in front of them; some men, who were eating alone, had baskets of various types of bread, baguette and brioche wrapped in more white napkins set on the tables before them, along with hunks of ripe Camembert and jugs of steaming coffee.
Lucille, dressed in crisp white cotton under her dark navy pinafore, wore a tall white pleated chef’s hat and spoke briefly to everyone sitting at the tables. Alicia noticed that she had not one spot of flour on her face or immaculate clothing, unlike Mrs Parkin, who almost always had a dusting of flour on her nose or eyebrows.
‘I am in awe of you, Mademoiselle Leblanc,’ Alicia said softly, when she came to speak to them. ‘My goodness, what a gift you have for producing beautiful cakes. A delight to the eye as well as being delicious.’ She clutched her middle. ‘I’ve been so greedy! Thank you – merci,’ she added, thinking that just thank you wasn’t enough for such a treat.
She wanted to ask who had taught Lucille to bake such wondrous cakes and pastries, but the shop door kept opening and closing, and even though it seemed that there was also a room upstairs they thought they should leave to make room for paying customers.
Laurie asked the serving maid if she would make up a box of cakes for him and Alicia to take home for their family, and she did so, putting them in a pretty cardboard box and tying it with blue ribbon.
They thanked Lucille again when they said goodbye, and Laurie gave a gratuity to the young maid as well as paying for the extra cakes, so she dipped her knee to him as they left.
Olivia led them out of the market area and turned left into Whitefriargate. ‘This is Hull’s renowned shopping street,’ she announced proudly, turning slightly and pointing in the opposite direction. ‘The street at the top is Silver Street and is where jewellers have their shops and silversmiths work on beautiful items: jugs and plates and candlesticks, rings and brooches, and all manner of insignia too, whereas Whitefriargate has the best of gowns, hats and shawls and anything else that a lady might covet, and shops with gentlemen’s attire too.’
Whilst Alicia and Olivia stopped to admire a pretty hat in a milliner’s window, Laurie walked slowly on. He paused to look idly at a window display of gentlemen’s clothing, and heard a soft voice at his elbow.
‘Buy a bunch of violets for your ladies, sir?’ A very young girl of perhaps twelve, dressed in a ragged though clean skirt and thin blouse with a shawl over her shoulders, stood behind him. She carried a wicker basket holding a few drooping bunches of violets over a thin arm, and one bunch in her hand. ‘Your sisters, or sweethearts?’
He smiled at her. ‘My sister and her friend,’ he murmured, and put his hand in his trouser pocket for change. His pocket book was inside his jacket, as advised by his tutors when visiting York, and by his father before he came out, who had suggested he put a few coins in his pocket for beggars. Laurie had nodded at him as he warned him that there were always pickpockets in every town and city and wondered how he knew, for Edward hardly ever visited such places.
He dropped coins into the girl’s hand and she closed her fingers over his, trapping them in her palm as she whispered, ‘A penny for a kiss, sir.’
He was startled by her bold comment, and blushed. Though he had often given coppers to beggars, children in York especially, they had usually scampered away with the coins clutched in their fists as if they feared he might change his mind and snatch them back.
He laughed, shaking his head, and said, ‘I’m saving that for—’
‘Your future sweetheart, sir?’
He didn’t answer her question, but said, ‘I’ll have two bunches of flowers, then. One for my sister, and one for—’
‘Your future sweetheart,’ she murmured again. ‘You couldn’t do better than …’ She paused, and dipped her knee to Alicia. ‘Good day, miss.’ Turning to Olivia, who smiled at her, she dipped her knee again. ‘Good day, Miss Olivia. I hope you’re well on this fine day?’
‘I am, thank you, Trixie. I hope you are too?’
‘You know her?’ Laurie asked as they walked on, Laurie handing the wilting flowers to Alicia to put in her basket alongside the box of pastries.
‘Yes. She comes to the pâtisserie at closing time, and if there’s any bread left Tante Lucille lets her and the others have it for coppers. She says she charges them as it encourages them to try to earn a living rather than begging. But I’ve seen her give it to older vagrants who can hardly walk, let alone work.’
