Chapter 32
“You ’eard the news?” Effie asked, plunking herself down in a seat next to Caroline. “I’m to be made manageress and be in charge of all the barmaids,” she said proudly. “I’m recruiting now as a matter of fact. Making myself a list of candidates.” She held up a piece of paper.
“That’s wonderful news,” Caroline enthused, leaning forward in her seat. She ignored both Mr. Bailey’s tut of annoyance and Romulus’s rumble of displeasure. “Did they mention—?”
Effie nodded her head, eyes shining. “The attic dormitory’s to be made over for us girls’ exclusive use. I know it’s all down to you, Caroline, and I want you to know I’m ever so grateful.”
“It is not all down to me,” Caroline said firmly. “But to your own good work ethic and reputation. Besides, you deserve some good fortune.”
“Don’t I ever!” Effie agreed fervently. They both turned their heads, hearing voices approaching.
It was Gervaise and Ralph. “Hold hard, here they come now.” Romulus jumped down off Caroline’s chair and ran over to greet the newcomers.
Remus emerged from under the chair and jumped up to settle on Caroline’s lap.
Mr. Bailey’s frowning face appeared over the top of the canvas. “Am I never to get a moment’s peace?” he grumbled before disappearing again.
“Ah, Bailey!” Ralph hailed him heartily. “How’s the image of The Citadel personified coming along?” He halted behind the canvas and peered at it dubiously. “Oh! Um…”
“Mr. Bailey thought I would make a very poor Themis I’m afraid,” Caroline said apologetically. “So instead, he is painting me as a maenad.”
Ralph blinked at the painting. “Oh, er… V-very nice,” he stammered.
“I suppose there is a link of sorts.” He screwed up his eyes in the effort of making it.
“Maenads being the followers of the god of wine and vineyards, don’t you know…
” He trailed off. “You—er—happy with this going up on the wall, old man?” he asked Gervaise doubtfully.
“Oh, I think so,” Gervaise said, his eyes on the canvas. “So long as I get first refusal on it when this place goes to the wall. Many years from now, of course,” he added, seeing Ralph’s horrified reaction to his words.
“I should certainly hope it will be!” his friend said fervently. He dropped into a chair next to Effie and mopped his brow. “How’s your shortlist coming along?”
“Oh, pretty well. I’m going to ask my friend Moira if she’s interested. She worked at Thomas and Pherson’s in Holbourn so she’s plenty of experience. Last time I saw her she was pretty down on her luck, so she’d be attracted to the idea of room and board being included.”
“That’s capital,” Ralph said absently. His eyes strayed back to the canvas before he hurriedly diverted them again. He coughed. “It’s a very large picture, isn’t it?” He didn’t say this like it was a good thing.
Gracie, the cleaning woman, sidled up with her broom and stood with her hands on her hips as she looked the painting up and down.
“You said you wanted it to fill that large space on the back wall between the two columns,” Mr. Bailey said belligerently. “I trust that is still the case?”
“Oh, certainly, certainly,” Ralph said, withering under the artist’s glare.
Caroline guessed Ralph was disappointed to find his vision of the stern titaness had not come to fruition. “How are the cats looking?” she asked, hoping to divert things into a more promising channel.
“They look ruddy massive,” Gracie piped up.
“About ten times bigger’n what they really are.
Thank the lord they ain’t that big in real life!
Shoo! Be off with you, Master Romulus! You’re a caution and no mistake!
” She shook her broom at him and Romulus batted at it with his front paws, rising up on his back legs.
“He’s game, you have to give him that,” Ralph observed, cheering up. “Never knew cats had so much personality.”
Everyone ignored this blatantly foolish pronouncement.
“Their size on canvas,” Mr. Bailey boomed, “is down to artistic license, my good woman!”
Gracie cackled. “And Miss Caroline don’t look as comely as she does in that their picter neiver!”
“Everyone’s a critic,” the artist muttered bitterly.
“I collected your laundry like what you said, miss,” Gracie said, addressing Caroline. “And I’ll drop it off at the wash house on me way home.”
“Thank you, Gracie.” She looked at Gervaise, who produced a tip from his pocket and handed it over. Gracie took it with a “much obliged” and scurried off with her broom.
Caroline turned back to Gervaise. “Has he made me terribly glamorous?” she asked him hopefully.
“Yes,” he replied.
“I want to see it!”
“Not until I say you can!” Mr. Bailey retorted.
“It hardly seems fair that everyone else is permitted to see it, yet I am not!”
“They are my rules, and my rules must be adhered to,” the artist replied grandly.
“He’s always like that,” Effie said sympathetically. “I couldn’t see his painting of good queen Bess until it was as good as done. Half drove me mad, it did, ’ow he wouldn’t let me even sneak a peek.”
Caroline sighed. Remus reached out a lazy paw and sank his claws into her knee. “Ow! I haven’t forgotten you,” she grumbled, tickling his ears.
“What do you want for dinner?” Effie asked. “I thought I could nip out in a bit. Reg said he fancied jellied eels.”
Caroline glanced at Gervaise, who shrugged. “We could dine out or stay in if you prefer. It’s your choice.”
In the end, they stayed in. Effie fetched their supper from a nearby pie shop. The pie filling was mincemeat, but it was accompanied by jellied eels, mash, and something called “liquor sauce” which tasted predominantly of parsley.
“I’m not sure about the eels,” Caroline confessed as they climbed the stairs afterward to their quarters. She was carrying Romulus in her arms and Remus was bounding up beside them.
“They’re an acquired taste,” Gervaise agreed.
“The dish was emptied though. I think Mr. Bailey ate more of them than Reg!”
“I have it on good authority that Reg’s favored delicacy is a sheep’s trotter.”
Caroline blanched. “Who told you that?”
“He did,” he replied, straight-faced. Caroline laughed.
She felt light and surprisingly carefree considering how she had started the day.
They had eaten with the others for the first time, and it had been a lively affair.
Jeb had sat quietly on the outskirts of the group, as Effie and Mr. Bailey dominated the conversation, laughing the loudest.
“Jeb looked very sober and subdued, did he not? I believe he is starting to realize what a treasure he let slip through his fingers.”
“Doubtless,” Gervaise said, opening the door to their rooms. “Care for a nightcap?”
Caroline pulled a face. “No, thank you. I overindulged last night. It gave me horrible dreams. I have not been able to fully escape them all day.”
They proceeded to the little sitting room where Reg had lit the fire in readiness for them. Caroline gasped and looked around in astonishment. The room had undergone an amazing transformation since she had last seen it.
Gervaise proceeded to an elegant cabinet filled with cut glass decanters and bottles.
“Your bad dreams stayed with you?” he asked casually, unstoppering a bottle of brandy.
“I hoped they might dissipate in the cold light of day.” Romulus jumped up onto a chair and started washing his face as Remus lay on his side before the roaring fire.
“Gervaise,” Caroline said faintly. “Where has all this furniture come from?”
He glanced about as if only just noticing it. “Oh, I ordered it the other day. There was a two-day wait for delivery.”
Her jaw dropped. “It’s beautiful!” she breathed. “Now I really do feel like a kept woman in sumptuous apartments.”
His hand paused in the act of pouring out his drink. He pulled a face. “Not quite the reaction I was hoping for.”
“Oh, sorry. I—well, I just mean that all the pieces are so exquisite,” she said admiringly, stroking the luxurious brocade upholstery and polished wood. “You have such lovely taste.”
“That is my reputation.” He moved to a French-style sofa and flipped the tails of his coat before seating himself there. “Come and sit with me and tell me about these nightmares you had,” he said, patting the seat.
Caroline drifted toward him. “Is that a new workbox for me?” she asked incredulously, pointing to a splendid sewing box placed on a chest of drawers.
“Yes. Now tell me it is quite ten times as spectacular as the one Blanche Pebmarsh uses and I will be well satisfied.”
She gave an uncertain laugh. “I don’t even know what Blanche’s looks like, but this is sure to be far superior. It looks to be fit for a princess.” When she started toward it, he made a noise of disapproval in his throat.
“You can examine it tomorrow at your leisure. For now, come here. I want to talk to you.”
She sank down onto the sofa next to him. “Gervaise,” she said solemnly. “You should not spoil me so much.”
“Why should I not?”
“Well, because—” Because she would feel the contrast too cruelly when he no longer cared for her, she realized but could not say.
It would be horribly easy to tell when his affections cooled, she thought, swallowing.
He was so indulgent now, and so generous.
When the time came, would he retreat into the cold aloofness she remembered him displaying when first she met him? The thought chilled her.
It seemed so long ago that he had been that mocking, arrogant creature she had avoided at Vance Park.
She remembered how dismayed she had been that day he had interrupted her and Teddy playing with the toy soldiers.
How her heart had sank at the sight of him.
Whereas now it fluttered and swooped and soared…
Oh dear, she thought. Why was that? Why did—?
“Did you finish your little doll?” he asked carefully, watching her face.
“Doll?” she repeated distractedly. “Oh, no. I wasn’t making the peg into a doll. Recollect, Teddy already has the doll,” she said nervously. “Miss Pinson made it for him.”
“The doll’s dress, then?” he asked steadily, his eyes looking right into hers.
“Er…no. It… Well, it turned out to be a lot more delicate and elaborate than I initially realized. I got rather carried away in truth,” she confessed in a rush. “It will take several hours’ work to complete.”
“I am not surprised,” he said quietly. “It looked like a labor of love.”
She felt her face turn crimson with embarrassment, though why she should be embarrassed at creating a doll’s bridal trousseau she could not say. Except…she was also Miss Pomfrey, was she not? She had adopted the pseudonym many times now.
Did Gervaise suspect her frilly invention was a case of wish fulfilment?
A substitute for the wedding gown she would never have?
Her eyes filled suddenly with embarrassed tears.
So stupid! Why was she acting like this?
She felt quite cross with herself. Blinking them away, she said quickly, “And now I can use my new workbox to finish it.”
“Tell me about these dreams,” he said, drawing his cigarette case out of his jacket pocket. “I want to hear all about them.”
Caroline breathed out a sigh of relief. This was much safer ground altogether.