A Handful of Ashes Read online

  ‘My brother, Josh, does it.’

  ‘Mr Skinner is a man. A lady does not utter obscenities and kicking people is offensive. It makes you appear common. You’re being too forward by far, and unpleasant to the extreme. I can only think it’s because your sister’s influence has been removed. Mrs Matheson would not appreciate this display of bad behaviour from you. You remember that?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Edgar,’ Daisy said, crestfallen at being reprimanded so harshly. She sighed. ‘I do wish Papa would tell Siana to come home. Doesn’t he love her any more?’

  The expression in Miss Edgar’s eyes softened. ‘Of course he does. Everything will be fine, Daisy. Just you wait and see.’

  ‘Goldie won’t die, will she?’

  ‘She will have Dr Matheson to look after her.’

  ‘I’m staying with her too.’

  ‘You might not be able to, Daisy.’

  ‘I’m staying at Rivervale House, even if papa says I can’t. I’ll sleep in the stable with the horses.’ Her eyes began to flood with tears as she thought of what Goldie had been through. Miserably, she said, ‘I’ll never be mean to Goldie again, and I’m not sorry I kicked that awful woman.’

  Miss Edgar gave her a kiss and took her by the hand. ‘I know, my dear, I felt like kicking her too. But when you give in to such impulses it makes your behaviour as bad as theirs. However, I’ll forgive you this time. Now, let’s hurry, else we’ll be left behind.’

  Now her governess was in a good mood again, Daisy decided to ask her something which had been on her mind for a while. ‘Does Mr Dennings’s moustache tickle when he kisses you, Miss Edgar?’

  ‘Daisy Skinner, you little wretch!’ Her face turning bright red, Miss Edgar picked up speed and, almost jerking Daisy off her feet, hurried them forward to catch the others up.

  Josh left Goldie to the private and tender ministrations of the females. The poor little wretch was half-starved, welted and bruised. Her hair had become dull, matted clumps through which the scalp could be seen in parts, where the hair had fallen out. Josh called in a doctor, who examined her and shook his head. ‘Best you take her to familiar surroundings where she can feel loved and cared for until she dies.’

  ‘I hate that doctor,’ Daisy said passionately afterwards, bursting into noisy tears. ‘I don’t want Goldie to die.’

  ‘It’s not his fault she’s sick. You stop that noise, our Daisy, lest Goldie hear you. The doctor left some medicine for her to take. If she knows people love her, she might get better in time. The best thing for you to do is to be good and help Miss Edgar look after her. That way, if she does die, you know you did your best to help her.’

  ‘Shall I say some prayers?’

  ‘That won’t hurt her none, either.’

  As Daisy knelt beside the bed, her hands piously held together in prayer, she decided she might become a holy sister. After a while, praying on her knees became boring and she ran out of holiness. Rising, she gazed down at Goldie and, remembering the bracelet she wore, she slipped it from her wrist on to Goldie’s.

  ‘I took this back from that horrible common girl in the print shop. Alice, her name was. I dragged her across the counter and knocked the spots off her. And I kicked that woman at the workhouse on the leg.’

  Goldie’s eyes fluttered.

  ‘Listen, Goldie, I promise to give you my allowance for a whole month if you get better. I managed to get us a big bedroom all to ourselves at Rivervale, though you’ll have to sleep in the sickroom for a while.’ Daisy looked around to make sure there was nobody else listening. ‘I didn’t really hate you all those times I said I did. Miss Edgar said I suffer from such impulses. I don’t know what they are, but she suffers from them as well. She wanted to kick the woman too. Imagine that.’

  A soft noise came from Goldie’s mouth.

  Encouraged, Daisy whispered, ‘There’s something you should know. Mr Dennings is in love with Miss Edgar. If they get married she might ask us to be her maids of honour.’

  When Goldie’s fingers fluttered against hers, tears filled Daisy’s eyes. ‘I do love you, Goldie. Really, I do. Try and get better quickly. There is so much I have to tell you.’

  Outside the door, Miss Edgar dabbed a handkerchief to her damp eyes and thought to herself that Daisy Skinner could be an absolute angel when she set her mind to it.

  Josh had tossed up between boat, rail or carriage. The trip by sea took approximately the same time as a carriage. Rail was quicker, but he’d still have to hire a carriage at the other end to take them from Southampton through to Poole.

  He decided on a boat, reckoning if the weather was calm it would be more comfortable for Goldie than negotiating all the potholes in a swaying carriage. After booking a cabin for the females to use, he suddenly remembered his assignation with Pansy. How could he have forgotten when he’d been so longing to see her? Consulting his pocket watch, he decided he could make it in time, if he hurried.

  The sun seemed to have deserted the sky and a chill wind had sprung up. Josh stopped long enough to buy a posy from a flower-seller, then his long legs carried him through the street and into the park. By the time he reached the bandstand, not only was he out of breath, he was perspiring. He gazed round him, seeing only a couple of nursery maids with their charges, a boy bowling a hoop along the path and an old man shuffling along with a dog on a leash.

  His silver pocket watch told him it was only just past three. Surely, Pansy would have waited for a few minutes. Then he saw her hurrying across the grass towards him, clasping a silk shawl against her chest. As he went to greet her, a smile spread across her face. ‘Josh, I’m so sorry I’m late. Alder delayed me.’

  His eyes lapped her up like the tongue of a hungry dog lapped up food. ‘I was late too. We’ve found Goldie. She’s very ill, though, and there’s some doubt if she’ll survive.’

  Pansy gasped. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘I’m going to take her home and have hired a cabin on a boat going to Poole. She’ll get the best attention from your father there, for I’m sure he’ll not turn her away. If – God forbid – she does die, then at least she’ll have some of the people she loves around her. We’ll be leaving on tonight’s tide.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’

  Troubled, Josh gazed at her. ‘Will your aunt allow it?’

  ‘She’ll try and stop me, so I’ll leave her a note.’

  ‘Doing this will soil your reputation, Pansy, my love.’

  ‘I know.’ Her eyes were very blue as they gazed into his. ‘Am I your love, Josh?’

  ‘Surely, you are, Miss Matheson,’ he teased, and he handed her the posy he’d bought. The thought of declaring his love for Pansy Matheson was rather awe-inspiring, and he didn’t know quite how to proceed.

  She looked at the flowers in her hands and smiled. ‘Then I’ll marry you.’

  Something lurched sideways in the region of his heart. ‘I’m not good enough by half for you. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to ask you.’

  ‘Don’t you want me, then?’

  The glimmer of a smile touched his lips at such a ridiculous notion. How could he not want her? ‘Your father wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘I’m of age where I don’t need my father’s permission. We could elope to Gretna Green.’

  ‘We’ll do no such thing, for I respect you too much,’ he said sternly. ‘First, I’ll seek your father’s approval, then I’ll propose marriage to you. If you accept, we’ll be married properly.’ A grin stretched across his face. ‘By crikey, I’d be so proud that I’d want to flaunt you in front of the congregation like a prize pony at the fair. I’m not having that old termagant aunt of yours telling people you’re fast.’

  ‘You funny, old-fashioned thing. I am fast.’ And she flung her arms about him. ‘Kiss me, Josh Skinner?’

  ‘Try to stop me.’ He took her face in his hands and kissed her sweet mouth, hoping his inexperience didn’t show, happiness buzzing through him like a hive of honey bees. It
was wonderful and felt so right.

  ‘Well, well, Pansy,’ someone drawled, sending them springing guiltily apart. ‘No wonder you were in such a hurry to get rid of me. You thought you had me fooled, didn’t you?’

  ‘What are you doing here, Alder, you sneak.’

  ‘Looking out for your welfare, you stupid little fool. Did you really think you could fob me off on to Justina Parsons?’ Grabbing her by the arm, he jerked Pansy forward. ‘If you want to elope to Gretna Green it will be with me. By the time we get there you’ll have no choice but to accept me, I’ll see to that.’

  Pansy lost the colour from her face. ‘You wouldn’t dare. Let me go, Alder. You don’t know what you’re doing. You’ve been drinking, I can smell brandy on your breath.’

  ‘Unhand her, you lout,’ Josh said quietly.

  Releasing his former fiancée, Alder took off his coat and began to roll up his sleeves. ‘I’m going to give you the thrashing you deserve, Skinner. How dare you come sniffing round my cousin like a mongrel after a bitch in season. She’s not for the likes of you.’

  ‘You mind your language in front of Miss Matheson.’

  Pansy grabbed her cousin’s arm. ‘Don’t you dare hurt him, Alder.’

  Flung off, she staggered backwards. When she recovered, Josh calmly handed her his coat, lest it be torn. It was tailor-made and he hadn’t had it long. He smiled calmly at Alder. ‘When you’re ready, sir.’

  Alder’s fists came up and he crouched into a boxer’s stance. Josh waited for him to make a move.

  Alder sneered, ‘Aren’t you going to defend yourself, you coward?’

  ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised.’

  When Alder’s fist shot out, Josh caught it, turned and jerked. Taken off balance, Alder somersaulted to sprawl on his back. Josh was still on his feet and waiting when Alder staggered up again.

  His next move brought the same result. Josh rolled on to his back and threw Alder over his head. Josh was on his feet in a trice, blessing Marcus Ibsen who had taken the trouble to teach him the art of self-defence.

  Losing his temper, Alder began to lash out at random, expending his energy and rarely landing a blow. Josh was able to predict and counteract every move without inflicting damage on the man, though he knew that if Alder got a hold of him he wouldn’t stand a chance. Soon, Alder was out of breath and perspiring heavily.

  ‘Had enough?’ Josh asked him pleasantly.

  Alder shook his head, staggered to his feet then collapsed at the knees and sank heavily onto the grass.

  ‘I think you have.’ Josh turned to Pansy. ‘Miss Matheson, under the circumstances I think it would be safer if you came back to the boarding house with me. Miss Edgar and Daisy will be sufficient chaperone until I can place you in your father’s care. I’ll send a message to your uncle to let him know what has occurred, so he doesn’t worry.’

  They left Alder to his own devices. He hurled foul curses and threats after them as they walked off.

  As they left the park Josh turned to see a pair of constables heading Alder’s way. He grinned to himself. Alder was going to spend an uncomfortable night.

  It was late in the morning. Francis was surprised to see Josh Skinner’s carriage come up the carriageway.

  He was even more surprised when Daisy jumped out of the vehicle, followed by Miss Edgar. His heart lurched when he saw Pansy. He’d thought she was being safely looked after by her aunt. Without thinking, he smiled at the sight of her. How well and happy she looked. If a little travel weary.

  Jolted out of his melancholy by the surprising event, he headed downstairs and out of the front door. He was just in time to see Josh alight from the carriage with a still figure in his arms. His breathing seemed to stop. ‘Goldie,’ he whispered. ‘What has happened?’

  There was an accusing look from Daisy when Josh said, ‘You may well ask. We found Goldie in a London workhouse. She is ill. How ill I’ll leave you to discover for yourself.’

  Pansy said to Josh. ‘Take her inside and up to the sickroom. We’ll care for her there. Miss Edgar, show Josh the way, please. Daisy, go with them and help make Goldie comfortable.’ Pansy then turned to him. ‘Are you coming, Papa?’

  ‘Of course. But first, do you not have a greeting for your father after all this time?’

  ‘I’m too heavy-hearted to indulge in social niceties. Goldie is sick unto dying. Why did you not take better care of her?’

  Francis’s ears began to burn as he was suddenly confronted with the unhappy consequences of the prolonged length of his grieving for Maryse. It had been so dark a time he hadn’t realized he was being totally neglectful of others.

  ‘But I had letters from her, saying she was well and wished to stay in London with her brother. And I sent money, for she said her brother was not well off and she needed new clothes.’

  ‘Her brother has been dead for many months. Goldie was robbed and thrown onto the street. His wife and her daughter are fraudsters, perhaps worse. A former employee suspects that they murdered Sebastian Groves and intended to blame it on Goldie. But we will not know the truth unless she recovers. The doctor who examined her in London thinks it unlikely, though.’

  Drily, Francis said, ‘The London doctor is obviously unaware of the recuperative power of clean air and country fare.’ He gave her a quick hug. ‘Dearest Pansy, I have no excuses for my behaviour, but the sight of you and Daisy has brought me wonderfully alive again. My heart is full to bursting.’

  ‘And so is mine. Oh Papa, I am finally in love.’

  ‘With Alder? I’m so pleased.’

  ‘No, not Alder. My cousin has shown his true colours now and I find his nature to be despicable in the extreme. He was prepared to compromise me to get his own way, You should know that he was planning to abduct me, and carry me off to a hurried ceremony at Gretna Green, giving me no choice but to return to my family and friends with with my character besmirched.’

  Startled, Francis gazed at her.

  ‘Then who?’

  ‘That, you will hear from his own lips. He will speak to you when he is ready and the opportunity arises, making his intentions known.’

  She smiled and hugged him in return then, bringing such a warmth of love tumbling through him that he wanted to cry from the ache of knowing everything he’d missed over the dreadful, black months that had passed since Maryse had left them.

  ‘First, Goldie must be attended to, for everything else must be secondary to her welfare. Shall I fetch your bag?’

  ‘No, I shall not need it.’

  A few minutes later it was with a heavy heart that he gazed down at the frail young girl he’d taken under his roof, and had now failed.

  Daisy slid her hand into his. ‘You’ll make her better, won’t you, Papa?’

  Francis recalled a time where Daisy had been suffering from the same disease, as a baby. Against his advice, Siana had flown in the face of convention, using a controversial manner of body-cooling treatment which had pulled Daisy through. As a last resort, he would use it, too.

  ‘I’ll make her better. I promise.’

  Francis knew he was about to have the fight of his life on his hands. It was a fight he was determined to win.

  13

  Thank God it wasn’t consumption, was Francis’s first thought. Nevertheless, Goldie was extremely ill. There was very little fluid in her lungs, which was a blessing. She had a dry cough, producing a minimum of mucus, but her muscles offered him hardly any resistance. Her skin was hot and dry, and when he gently pinched it between his finger and thumb it was slow to return to its natural state. Her stomach was beginning to bloat, too. She was suffering from dehydration and malnutrition.

  Pneumonia was not always fatal, Daisy was living proof of that. But a body which had been deprived of basic nutrition had no strength to fight off infection, so became a breeding ground for all types of illnesses, which could easily be passed on to others. Until Goldie ingested some fluids, Francis wouldn’t even know whether her othe
r organs functioned as they should.

  If the air was humidified and he got plenty of fluids into her, with an infusion of savoury, willow bark and honey to treat her fever and cough, as long as bacteria didn’t take advantage of her weakened state she just might pull through.

  Francis brought in Noah Baines to confirm his diagnosis.

  Noah’s prognosis was a little less encouraging than his own. ‘As you’re aware, Francis, a patient with pneumonia can deteriorate very quickly. Goldie will need observing night and day. She already has pustules on her body, which indicate a bacterial infection in the blood. If that spreads to her lungs it’s unlikely she’ll recover. I would advise that she be nursed in the infirmary, for I’m not sure that your personal involvement will be in her best interest.’

  ‘You mean, you consider I’m not sufficiently recovered from my recent bereavement to cope. I assure you, I am, Noah.’

  ‘Good. It’s about time, Francis.’

  Miss Edgar exchanged a glance with Pansy, who stated firmly, ‘There’s no question of placing Goldie in the infirmary when we can offer her the best of attention here. We’ll all take turns looking after her, Papa. And a couple of the maids can help out during the day.’

  ‘And me. I want to tell her about the theatre,’ Daisy said.

  ‘Not you, Daisy. You’re not old enough.’

  ‘Siana would have allowed me to help Goldie if she hadn’t been sent away.’

  There was an awkward silence, one during which Francis tucked Goldie’s arm under the covers. He was astounded by the change in Daisy since he’d last seen her. It was as if he’d woken from a long sleep to discover everything had passed him by. How old was she now? Eleven years? Getting on for twelve? As far as he could see, her body remained undeveloped, but there were signs of a new maturity in her thinking.

  ‘I’m aware only that your services wouldn’t have been needed if Siana was still here, for she wouldn’t have allowed Goldie to remain at her brother’s house for such a prolonged length of time. Therefore, Goldie wouldn’t have been in the workhouse in the first place However, past action and the consequence of it cannot be undone, it can only teach us to act differently. When Goldie has recovered some strength, then that is the time for her to hear the exciting adventures of Daisy Skinner in London. Then, and only then, will I allow you five minutes with her each day, in the company of your elders. But what I’m interested to learn is the story of how you found her. Perhaps you could write me a journal of your time in London, so I can read it for myself every evening after dinner.’