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‘I could have thrashed the one called Crusher.’ Despite his brave words, Max held her hand as they crossed the mud, making their way to the steps.
Later, when her brothers were in bed, Caroline sat on the window seat in her bedchamber, sipping a mug of cocoa as she gazed out into the moonlit night. Lights from passing river traffic bobbed and danced above the water like tiny fireflies, and the streetlamps cast golden pools on the cobblestones, but the deep shadows held menace and fights broke out as drunks spilled out of the pubs. Blood mingled with the detritus in the gutters and the sound of police whistles and the thunder of booted feet added to the cacophony of hooters from steamships. Caroline finished her cocoa and drew the curtains before climbing into bed. She might never know the identity of the gentleman who had come to their aid, but one thing was certain – tomorrow she would start looking for paid employment. Her life of luxury and leisure had ended and it was time she started earning her living.
Next morning, at breakfast, Laurence was allowing his tea to get cold while he studied a copy of The Times. With his steel-rimmed reading spectacles perched on the end of his nose he looked every inch a scholar, but his brow was wrinkled in a frown and he did not seem too happy. Caroline had finished her slice of toast, thinly spread with butter, and was sipping her tea in an attempt to make it last until she could have a proper look at the newspaper. She had been attempting to read the ‘Positions Vacant’ column over Laurence’s shoulder, but it was almost impossible as he kept moving his head and obscuring her view.
‘Where are those boys?’ Sadie demanded as she filled the sink with water from the kettle. ‘Max should be helping with the washing up. It’s his turn today.’
‘They’re not used to rising early when they’re on holiday,’ Caroline said hastily. She had not mentioned the scuffle on the foreshore the previous evening, and she did not intend to tell Laurence or Sadie. The boys, she hoped, had learned their lesson.
‘But they’re not on holiday,’ Sadie said firmly. ‘They’ll be starting their lessons again as soon as Laurence has unpacked his books.’
Laurence looked up at the mention of his name, peering at Sadie over the rim of his spectacles. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.’
‘I was speaking about the boys beginning their studies with you,’ Sadie said patiently. ‘The sooner the better, in my opinion.’ She refilled the kettle from the pump at the sink and replaced it on the hob. ‘Is there anything of interest in the paper?’
Laurence shook his head. ‘No, not today, but there’s always tomorrow.’
‘Might I borrow the newspaper?’ Caroline asked, holding out her hand. ‘I like to keep abreast with what’s going on in the world.’
Laurence handed it to her with a gentle smile, but Sadie chortled with laughter.
‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it, Carrie. Don’t take too long because I want you to go to market and buy some vegetables and a beef bone. I’m afraid it will be soup again for supper.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll go as soon as I’ve got the boys out of bed.’ Caroline left the kitchen without giving Sadie a chance to think of anything else that she might want, and hurried upstairs to wake her brothers. When she was satisfied that they intended to get up and dress themselves, she took the newspaper to her room and sat down to study the ‘Positions Vacant’ column. Her attention was caught by the name ‘Colville’, which she had often heard spoken when her parents were discussing business matters over breakfast or dinner – Colville Shipping Company, her father’s bitter rival, was part of the reason for Manning and Chapman’s dire financial straits. She memorised the advertisement and the address, selected a straw bonnet adorned with scarlet rosebuds and ribbons, slipped on her lace shawl and prepared for battle.
The Colville residence was situated in a beautiful Georgian terrace at the pier head. After a long hot walk along Wapping High Street, past wharfs, warehouses, numerous pubs and cheap lodging houses, Caroline could not help but be impressed by the comparatively tranquil setting. But she quickly realised that it was an illusion, cleverly created by green lawns and the grouping of tall trees. The houses themselves overlooked the busy entrance to Wapping Basin and the river was crowded with vessels of all shapes and kinds. The peace was shattered by the noise from the docks: the sound of flapping sails, the drumming of great paddle wheels as the steamers ploughed through the water, and the shouts of seamen, stevedores and dock workers. But dirt, noise and bustle meant money. Caroline had imagined that the Colville family would be very well situated, and now she was certain. Some of their profits had been gained at the expense of her father’s company and had probably contributed to its downfall. Leaving her wicker shopping basket beneath the splendid portico, she knocked on the door and after a short wait it was opened by a trim parlour maid.
‘I’ve come about the advertisement in The Times,’ Caroline said with as much confidence as she could muster.
‘You should put your application in writing, miss. I doubt if the mistress will see you otherwise.’
Caroline was not going to be put off so easily. ‘I’ve been offered a position with a titled family,’ she said, lying valiantly. ‘But this situation interests me. I would like to speak to your mistress before I accept the other one.’
The maid cocked her head on one side, eyeing Caroline suspiciously, but she was obviously impressed. ‘Wait there and I’ll see if Mrs Colville is at home.’
‘It’s very hot out here. Might I wait inside?’ Caroline stepped over the threshold before the maid had a chance to close the door.
‘Very well, but stay there. Don’t move.’ The maid hurried off with the white ribbons on her frilled mobcap flying out behind her like pennants.
Catching sight of her flushed cheeks and slightly dishevelled appeared in one of the large wall mirrors, Caroline tucked stray strands of dark hair behind her ears. People were always telling her that she resembled her mother, and it was true that she had inherited her mother’s large hazel eyes, luxuriant dark hair and clear skin, but Caroline could never see the likeness herself. She straightened her bonnet and wiped a smut from the tip of her nose, hoping that Mrs Colville would not notice the smear on her white lace gloves. The jaunty headwear gave her a pert appearance, and she was wondering whether it had been a wise choice when the maid reappeared.
‘The mistress will spare you five minutes. Come this way.’ She marched off, leaving Caroline to follow her.
She had a vague impression of glacial elegance as she hurried after the maidservant. The walls and the paintwork were stark white, unrelieved by touches of colour, and gilt-framed mirrors reflected the sunlight that flooded through the tall windows, creating square patterns on the highly polished floorboards. Caroline had worked out her speech but when she was ushered into a large, airy parlour overlooking the river, she was momentarily lost for words. If the entrance hall was ice-white, the parlour was the cool blue of a winter sky. The chairs and sofa were upholstered in pale grey velvet, and a similar material had been used for the curtains. After the dust and heat outside, the coolness of the room was matched by the frigid reception of the elderly woman, who was seated on a throne-like chair with an embroidery hoop on her lap.
‘You may go, Gilroy,’ she said in clipped tones.
The maid bobbed a curtsey and backed out of the room as if in the presence of royalty. Caroline eyed Mrs Colville warily. The advertisement had been brief to the point of terseness and had merely required an educated woman to act as companion to a young lady: no more, no less. It had intrigued Caroline almost as much as the name Colville. She had a score to settle with that family.