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‘Give her to me then, ma’am. I’m sure the sergeant at the station will know of some woman who’d like to earn a few pence for her labours.’
Cordelia hesitated. ‘I suppose that means some slattern who might be disease ridden and most certainly of low morals.’
‘That I can’t say, ma’am.’ Constable Miller kept his tone moderate but he was tired and coming to the end of his shift. His only wish was to take the tiresome infant to the station and see it safely settled before he went home to his family, left in the care of his eldest daughter, a child of ten. Whether or not they were asleep in bed was something he would discover when he opened the door of their two-up, two-down terraced house. No doubt they would have searched the cupboards for their presents, such as they were, but all he could afford on a constable’s pay were wooden toys made from offcuts by the carpenter who lived at number six, and rag dolls that his wife had spent many evenings sewing by the light of a single candle.
Cordelia rose to her feet, still clutching Angel, who was growing restive and her whimpering was rapidly growing in volume. ‘I must come with you, Constable. I have to make certain that this child is placed in safe hands.’ Cordelia turned her head as the door opened to admit Letitia, the vicar and Joseph Wilding, and judging by the expressions on their faces she realised that her decision was going to attract strong opposition. She explained hastily, but Joseph barely allowed her to finish speaking.
‘It’s ridiculous, Cordelia. The child has been deserted by her mother and goodness knows where it came from. The thing might be riddled with disease and you have a delicate constitution. Come away and leave the matter to the authorities.’
‘Yes, my dear,’ Letitia said smoothly. ‘Your caring attitude is admirable, but misplaced. There are institutions that care for this type of child.’
‘And what type is that?’ Cordelia demanded angrily. ‘Angel is an innocent, just like the Child whose birth we are supposed to be celebrating at Christmas.’
Shocked, Letitia stared at her wide-eyed. ‘That is blasphemous, Cordelia.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Pretend you didn’t hear that, John. Cordelia is obviously beside herself, and it’s very late. Time we were all tucked up in our beds so that we can be ready for tomorrow – or rather, later on today. Go home, Cordelia, and leave the matter in the hands of the police.’
Cordelia held the child closer as she rose to her feet. Rebellion was not in her nature and she would normally have complied with her husband’s wishes, but this was different. ‘No,’ she said firmly.
‘No?’ Letitia and Joseph spoke in unison.
‘It’s all right, ma’am,’ Constable Miller said hastily. ‘I will make certain that the child is well cared for.’
Cordelia shot a sideways look at her husband. ‘I am not abandoning this infant. I intend to accompany Constable Miller to the police station, and I will stay with Angel until I am satisfied that appropriate arrangements have been made for her care.’
‘Cordelia, I forbid you—’ Joseph broke off mid-sentence. The stubborn set of his wife’s normally soft jawline and the martial gleam in her large grey eyes both startled and confused him. Used as he was to commanding his army of workers at the brewery and generally getting his own way by simple force of his domineering nature, he was suddenly at a loss.
‘I am going with her,’ Cordelia said simply. ‘It’s Christmas Day and my little winter angel needs the comfort of loving arms. I will never know the joy of holding my own child, so please allow me this one small thing, Joseph.’
John Hardisty cleared his throat, touched to the core by the simple request of a childless woman. ‘I will accompany you, my dear Mrs Wilding. If Joseph feels he must tend to your guests then please allow me to be of assistance.’
‘That won’t be necessary, Vicar.’ Joseph moved to his wife’s side. ‘I’m sure my friends will understand. I don’t agree with what you’re doing, Cordelia, but I am prepared to humour you – just this once.’
She met his gaze with a steady look. For the first time in the twenty-five years of their marriage she knew that she was in control, and it was a good feeling. She said nothing as she followed the constable out of the church, wrapping her cape around the baby to protect her from the heavily falling snow.
‘Get into the carriage, Cordelia,’ Joseph said sternly. ‘Might I offer you a lift, Constable?’
‘I’m supposed to be walking my beat, sir.’ Constable Miller squinted up into the swirling mass of feathery snow. ‘But I suppose under the circumstances it would be appropriate.’
The desk sergeant dipped his pen into the inkwell. ‘Name, please?’
‘Cordelia Wilding.’
‘No, ma’am, the infant’s name, if it has one.’
‘Angel,’ Cordelia said firmly.
‘Angel?’ He looked up, frowning. ‘Surname?’
‘Really, Officer, is this necessary?’ Joseph leaned over the desk. ‘My wife knows nothing of this child. She’s simply caring for the infant until someone comes to take her away.’
A shaft of fear stabbed Cordelia with such ferocity that she could scarcely breathe. ‘Angel Winter. It’s the name I’ve given the poor little creature who’s been cruelly abandoned by her mother. She needs someone who can take care of her bodily needs, and a home where she will be loved.’
‘Don’t we all, ma’am?’ Sergeant Wilkes said drily.
‘I suggested the Foundling Hospital, Sergeant,’ Constable Miller took his notebook from his pocket. ‘The infant was found at approximately eleven forty-five in Angel Alley by a Mr James Fowler, the verger at St Mary’s church, and taken into the vestry where this good lady has been taking care of the said babe.’
The sergeant glanced at the clock. ‘It’s nearly half-past one in the morning, and it’s Christmas Day. I doubt if anyone would be happy to be awakened at this time.’
As if acting on cue, Angel began to cry and this time no amount of rocking or soothing words made any difference.
‘She’s hungry,’ Cordelia said apologetically. ‘A wet nurse must be found immediately.’
‘Lumpy Lil is in the cells, Constable Miller. Go and fetch her, if you please. She’s up for soliciting again.’ Sergeant Wilkes shot an apologetic glance in Cordelia’s direction. It was bad enough having a nipper howling its head off fit to bust, without the added complication of there being a lady present. He thought longingly of home and a warm fireside, a pipe of baccy and a glass of porter to finish off a long day. ‘Begging your pardon, ma’am.’
‘Lumpy Lil,’ Cordelia repeated faintly. The image this conjured up made her shudder, but Angel’s cries were becoming more urgent, and she supposed that one mother’s milk was as good as another’s, even if the woman was of questionable morals.
Joseph moved closer to her, lowering his voice. ‘Come away now, Cordelia. You’ve done your best for the infant. Let the police deal with her.’
She turned on him in a fury. ‘You make Angel sound like a criminal. I won’t abandon her, and I intend to remain here until I’m satisfied that a good home has been found for her.’
‘This is ridiculous, my dear,’ Joseph said through clenched teeth. ‘You cannot stay here all night, and possibly all day too. I won’t allow it.’
Cordelia turned away in time to see Constable Miller escorting a large, raw-boned woman along the corridor that presumably led from the cells. Lumpy Lil lived up to her name – her torn blouse was open to the waist, exposing large breasts, purple veined and threatening to burst free from the confines of tightly laced stays.
‘Good grief!’ Joseph stared at her in horror. ‘Surely not this creature.’
‘Where’s the little brat then?’ Lil’s words were slurred. It was obvious that she had been drinking and was still under the influence, but Angel was screaming by this time, and much as Cordelia hated the thought of this unwashed, drunken woman laying hands on her pure little angel, she could see that there was little alternative. She cleared her throat, meeting Lil’s aggressive glare with an attempt at a smile.
‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you be kind enough to give sustenance to this poor little child, Miss Lumpy?’
‘It’s Miss Heavitree to you, lady.’ Lil tossed back her shaggy mane of mouse-brown hair. ‘You never told me the queen was visiting Leman Street nick, Constable Miller.’
‘Less of your cheek, Lil. You know what’s required of you.’
‘Give us the kid, missis.’ Lil held her arms out, exposing tattoos that ran from her bony wrists to her elbows. ‘I’ll be glad to get some relief from me sore titties. My babe only lived three days, and then the cops brought me in for trying to make a living.’ She spat on the floor at Constable Miller’s feet, narrowly missing his boots. ‘I provides a valuable service, they knows that.’
‘Less of your lip, Lumpy.’ Constable Miller poked her in the back. ‘If you’re willing to take care of the nipper you can use the inspector’s office. He’s at home with his family, where we all should be, and I’m going off duty, so don’t give me any trouble.’
‘All right, I’ll see to the little thing. What’s her name?’
‘I call her Angel.’
‘There’s no accounting for taste. I dare say she’ll be as much of a brat as the rest of ’em when she’s old enough to answer back.’ Lil flung the baby over her shoulder with careless abandon. ‘Lead on, Constable. You can stay and watch if it gives you pleasure.’ She winked at him, but Constable Miller merely shrugged and gave her a push in the direction of the office.
‘It would be nothing new to me, Lil. I’ve got five of my own, but I’ll be outside the door, so don’t try to escape.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on her,’ Cordelia volunteered as Constable Miller ushered Lumpy Lil and the baby into the inspector’s office.
‘You don’t want to mix with the likes of her, ma’am,’ he said in an undertone. ‘She’s not your sort at all.’
‘She most certainly is not.’ Joseph laid his hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘You’ve done your duty by the infant, Cordelia. It’s time to go home.’
Cordelia Frances Wilding had been brought up to be a dutiful daughter and a biddable wife, but at that moment something inside her snapped. The need to protect the infant was stronger than any other emotion she had felt in her whole life, and nothing anyone said or did would make a scrap of difference.
‘Go home, Joseph,’ she said firmly. ‘I intend to remain here until I am satisfied that Angel will be looked after properly.’
‘You are telling me to leave you here? In a police station with common prostitutes and villains of every kind?’
‘Yes, I am. I won’t move from this spot until I know what arrangements have been made.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘Or else I’ll bring her home and hire Miss Heavitree as her wet nurse.’
‘This is ridiculous. Have you lost your senses, Cordelia?’ Joseph paled visibly. ‘What about my status in the business world – have you considered that?’
She turned her back on him. ‘I’m not listening.’
Joseph stared at her in horror. This angry person was not the docile wife who had run his household and acted as hostess to his business acquaintances for more than twenty-five years. He barely recognised the mutinous woman who was openly defying him, and worse still he felt a wave of sympathy emanating from the desk sergeant. There seemed to be little he could do other than admit defeat and save face by appearing to support his wife.
‘Very well, my dear. I can see that this means a lot to you, so I’ll do as you ask, but only if you promise not to do anything rash.’
‘I’ll do what I think best, Joseph.’
Defeated for the first time in his married life, Joseph turned to Sergeant Wilkes. ‘I have to go now, but I’ll send the carriage back to wait for my wife.’
‘Yes, sir. I understand.’
Joseph lowered his voice. ‘I would be prepared to make a generous donation to any charity of your choosing if a suitable home can be found for the infant. My wife will not leave until she is assured of this.’
‘I can’t promise, sir, but I’ll see what I can do.’
Joseph turned his head to see his wife looking directly at him and his heart sank. ‘You heard what I said, Cordelia?’
‘Yes, I did, and I’ll stay here until I’m satisfied that Angel will be loved and cared for, but don’t be surprised if I bring her home with me, Joseph. I will not be swayed on this matter. It’s Christmas Day – a time for children and families – I can’t abandon her, and I won’t.’
Chapter Two (#u556f5805-6c8e-5942-a7e3-da338249f2d7)
Spital Square, Spitalfields – 1871
Angel put down her sampler and stared out of the window. The square was bustling with life and the sun was shining. She longed to go outside but she was forbidden to leave the house unless accompanied by Lil Heavitree, her nursemaid, although at eleven years of age she thought it ridiculous for a big girl like herself to be waited upon hand and foot by an old woman. Lil must be forty, if she was a day, and her large ungainly figure seemed to broaden with every passing year. Clumsy and prone to using bad language when she forgot herself, Lil was looked down upon by the other servants and Angel was constantly flying to her defence, particularly when her guardian’s personal maid, Miss Nixon, used her wiles to get poor Lil into trouble. Quite often, when Lil’s innate clumsiness had caused her to smash a valuable figurine or one of Mrs Wilding’s best Crown Derby dinner plates, Angel had taken the blame. Aunt Cordelia might grumble, but she would forgive Angel, whereas Lil would probably lose her job. There were times when Angel heard the underservants calling Lil names, referring to her as Lumpy Lil and taunting her about her former life. Angel was not sure what Lil’s crimes had been, but they haunted the poor woman even after nearly twelve years of devoted service.
Angel leaned forward, attracted by the cries of a young woman selling strawberries. Aunt Cordelia loved the sweet succulent fruit and the season when they were at their best was far too short. Angel leaped to her feet with a show of lace-trimmed pantalettes and a swirl of her silk taffeta tartan skirts, and she ran from the room, grabbing her reticule on the way out. The coins clanked together merrily as she raced down three flights of stairs, flying past the startled housemaid as she crossed the entrance hall and let herself out into the street, just in time to catch the strawberry seller before she moved on to Norton Folgate.
With a punnet clutched in her hand Angel went to find Aunt Cordelia, but her way to the drawing room was barred by Miss Nixon.
‘Where do you think you’re going, miss?’
Her enthusiasm dashed by Miss Nixon’s tight-lipped expression and sharp tone, Angel wafted the strawberries under the maid’s nose. ‘I bought these with my own money as a present for my aunt.’
‘Have you no sense, child?’ Miss Nixon’s voice was laced with acid. ‘The master is dead. Do you think that a few berries will mend a broken heart?’
Angel stared at her blankly. She heard the words but they made no sense. ‘He can’t be,’ she whispered. ‘I saw him yesterday and he greeted me with such a kind smile.’
‘That may be so but he was taken suddenly. An apoplectic fit, so the doctor said. Anyway, it’s none of your business. Go to your room and don’t bother Mrs Wilding. She’s prostrate with grief.’
Slowly, Angel ascended the stairs. The smell of the warm berries was suddenly nauseating, much as she loved the fruit, and she abandoned the punnet on one of the carved mahogany tables that were placed strategically on each landing. The old nursery on the third floor was now a schoolroom, but Angel’s governess had retired recently, leaving a gap in her life once filled with lessons on history, grammar and mathematics. Aunt Cordelia had insisted that Angel should receive an education fit for a young lady, although Uncle Joseph often stated within Angel’s hearing that filling girls’ heads with knowledge was a waste of time – and now he was dead. It was hard to believe that a large, ruddy-faced man, seemingly in the prime of life, should have been struck down so cruelly. Angel entered the schoolroom to find Lil waiting for her.
‘You’ve been told, have you?’
‘Miss Nixon said my uncle is dead. Is it true, Lil?’
‘Dead as a doornail, love. Felled like an ox, he was. Just got up from the breakfast table, so Florrie says, and collapsed at her feet, and her still holding the coffeepot. It’s a wonder she never spilled it all over him. Not that he’d have felt a thing. He were a goner for sure, and the missis screamed and fell down in a dead faint. Such a to-do.’
‘How awful,’ Angel said sadly. ‘It must have come as a terrible shock. I ought to comfort her. Do you think I should go to her now, Lil?’
‘Not at this minute, my lovely. The doctor’s been and given her a strong dose of laudanum, and the undertaker will be here any minute. Just stay up here until the missis sends for you.’
‘I bought her some strawberries.’ Angel walked over to the window and peered out. ‘It’s such a lovely day.’
‘It don’t matter whether it’s raining or sunny – when your time is up, that’s it. The master has gone to his Maker, and I don’t doubt that worry was partly to blame.’
‘Worry?’ Angel was quick to hear the change in Lil’s tone. ‘Why was he worried?’
‘Well, whatever it was he’s out of it now.’ Lil smoothed her starched white apron with her work-worn hands. ‘I can’t dawdle about here all day. There’s work to do. I just came to make sure you was all right.’ Lil gave her a searching look. ‘You ain’t going to pipe your eye, are you?’
‘No, I feel sad, but somehow I can’t cry for Uncle Joseph. I know he never wanted me to come and live here.’
Lil twisted her lips into a crooked smile. ‘That was true at the outset, but he came round in the end. The missis can be very persuasive when she puts her mind to it. Now I really must get my carcass downstairs and offer to help or I’ll never hear the last of it.’ She waddled to the door, but she hesitated and turned to give Angel an encouraging smile before leaving.
Left to her own devices there was little that Angel could do other than wait for her aunt to send for her, but the call did not come. Luncheon was normally brought to the schoolroom at midday, unless Angel was invited to take the meal with her aunt, but she waited until she heard the clock in the hall strike one, and then she took matters into her own hands and went downstairs to the basement kitchen.
Cook and the young housemaid, Gilly, stared at her as if she were a ghost.
‘You should be upstairs in the nursery, miss,’ Cook said severely.
‘It’s not the nursery now,’ Angel countered. ‘It’s the schoolroom, and I’m hungry. Where’s Lil?’
‘She went to the pharmacy to purchase some laudanum for madam – doctor’s orders. She’s to be kept quiet in a darkened room, and she don’t want to be bothered with the likes of you.’
Angel was taken aback by Cook’s response. She had never been a cheery soul, but now her tone was belligerent and downright disrespectful. Angel had known from an early age that she was not related to the Wildings by blood, and that she had been adopted by Aunt Cordelia when she was just a baby, but the servants had always treated her with due deference, until now.
‘I would like my food sent to the schoolroom, Cook. When Lil returns, please send her to me.’ Angel shot a withering look at Gilly, who was giggling helplessly. ‘I’m glad you think it’s funny. This is supposed to be a house of mourning.’
Gilly’s jaw dropped and she backed into the scullery. ‘Sorry, miss.’
‘On second thoughts, I’ll help myself,’ Angel said, ignoring Cook’s tight-lipped expression as she cut several slices from a freshly baked loaf of bread. ‘Is there any ham or meat left from dinner last evening?’
Reluctantly Cook opened the larder door and took out a plate of cold beef. She placed it on the table. ‘Is there anything else, miss?’
‘You wouldn’t treat me so rudely if my uncle were still alive.’ Angel added some meat to her plate and a pat of butter. ‘My aunt will hear of this.’
‘You’ve got a nasty surprise coming to you, miss. You won’t be so high and mighty when the bailiffs arrive.’
