‘What are you gawping at?’ Clementia was naked except for a small towel tied around her waist, and then she braced her shoulders exposing a flat chest covered with a soft, downy fuzz of hair.

Graziella had been cowering on the sofa, but her child’s words seemed to galvanise her into action and she sprang to her feet, throwing her shawl around Clementia’s shoulders. ‘You have killed me, my son,’ she cried. ‘You have stuck a knife into your mamma’s heart.’

‘Y-you’re a boy.’ Rose felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she hastily averted her gaze.

Fancello clenched his fists. ‘You are a wicked boy, Clementino.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Rose looked from one to the other. ‘Why have you made your son pretend to be a girl?’

‘Are you mad?’ Fancello demanded angrily. ‘The patrons would not pay to hear a choirboy sing. They want to see pretty girls on stage.’

‘But I am not a girl,’ Clementino protested. ‘I never wanted to be a girl. You have turned me into a freak.’

‘You are an ungrateful child,’ Graziella stormed, clutching her hands to her breast. ‘Haven’t we given you everything?’

Rose looked Clementino in the eye and experienced a sudden surge of sympathy. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want to perform any more?’

‘Don’t put ideas into his head.’ Fancello glowered at her. ‘He is our little star.’

‘I’m not your little star,’ Clementino’s voice deepened. ‘You hear this? I can no longer be a girl. I am a man now.’

‘You are not yet fourteen.’ Graziella held her hands out to him. ‘You are my baby still.’

‘I am growing up, Mamma.’ Clementino dropped the shawl to the ground, flexing his biceps. ‘You cannot force me to wear a dress and sing like a girl.’ He fingered his chin. ‘I have to shave twice a day. Do you want to put me in the circus as a bearded lady?’

Rose picked up the shawl and laid it on the arm of the sofa. ‘You must listen to him, signor. Can’t you see how unhappy he is?’

Fancello turned on her. ‘I didn’t send for you so that you could give me a lecture. I want you to persuade this bad son to honour his parents and do as we say. He might listen to you because he will not listen to his mamma or me.’

‘Clementino is right,’ Rose said slowly. ‘You are making a show of him and it isn’t fair. He just wants to be himself.’

Clementino pointed a shaking finger at Rose. ‘She speaks the truth. She understands me, but you don’t. I will kill myself if you make me go on that stage tonight.’ He reached for a bottle of gin and held it to his lips.

‘No!’ Graziella leaped to her feet and snatched it from him. ‘What will we do, Alessandro?’

‘I am ruined.’ Fancello subsided onto a chair. ‘Ruined by an ungrateful child. The show will close tonight. I cannot go on.’

Clementino threw back his head and laughed. ‘It is a punishment for the way you have forced me to live these past five years, wearing dresses and bows in my hair. I will do it no longer.’

‘Where will we find another act to compare with our dear child?’ Graziella moaned.

‘Where will you find someone who works for next to nothing?’ Clementino reached for a shirt and slipped it on. ‘I intend to go home to Naples where I hope to join the opera buffa, and train to be a basso buffo. You have used me long enough.’

Fancello held his head in his hands. ‘We will have to close.’

‘We cannot let our patrons down tonight,’ Graziella said, rising from the sofa. ‘Sing for us just once more, Clementino? Just once more, for your mamma.’

‘No. Never again.’ Clementino tossed his long dark locks and stalked out of the room.

‘I know the words to most of his songs.’ Rose looked from one bleak face to the other. ‘So does Cora. We could do Clementino’s act just for one night, but we would expect to be paid extra.’

‘It would be a travesty.’ Fancello threw up his hands. ‘I won’t allow it.’

‘Yes, you will, Alessandro.’ Graziella moved to a side table and unlocked a tin box. ‘Do what you can, Rose. Here is your pay, including extra for tonight. We will not be requiring you again.’

Rose accepted the money. ‘What will you do, signora?’

Graziella’s full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. ‘We will return to Italy. We have family in Naples, and I wish to be close to my son. Perhaps one day he will forgive us for what we have done to him.’

‘I hope he will, signora.’ Rose left the room. As she made her way slowly down the stairs, she noticed for the first time that the treads were worn and plaster was flaking off the walls. She must, she thought, have had stars in her eyes when she first came to Fancello’s saloon, and if she were to admit the truth she had enjoyed every minute of each performance. Papa would be horrified and Mama might never speak to her again, but she had loved the limelight and revelled in the applause. Now it had come to an end, and the distress she felt was not entirely due to the shortfall in the amount they needed to free Billy. She would miss the excitement of leading a double life, and the ever-present danger of discovery, but she could not help feeling sorry for Clementino and his parents. She went to give Cora the bad news.

Both their performances went down well, and the audience did not seem to notice the absence of the child star, but as they took their final bow and exited from the stage Rose found herself embraced by Clementino. It was the first time she had seen him in male clothing and he was every inch a handsome youth.

‘Thank you, Rose,’ he said, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You have saved my life.’

Cora stared at him in amazement. ‘Well,’ she breathed. ‘Who would have thought it?’

‘Good luck, Clementino. I hope everything turns out well for you.’ Rose watched him walk away with a feeling akin to envy. His metamorphosis was complete, and now he could fly away like a butterfly emerging from its pupa: there was no such escape for a young woman like herself. This adventure was over, and now she must return to a life of duty and diligence, at the beck and call of her father and then the man she might ultimately marry. Her brief stab at independence, albeit for a just cause, had come to an end. How they would find the money to pay for Billy’s defence was a problem yet to be solved. She turned with a start as Cora tugged at her sleeve.

‘Stop daydreaming, Rose,’ Cora said impatiently. ‘I’ve seen him. Gerard is seated at his usual table and he is on his own. I must speak to him.’

‘It’s over, Corrie. You won’t see him again after tonight.’

Cora tossed her head. ‘We’ll see about that.’ She pulled back the curtain and ran down the steps to join Gerard. His handsome features dissolved into a charming smile as he stood to greet her. Rose turned away. She had seen enough to realise that there was more to her sister’s relationship with the young aristocrat than she had at first suspected. It was another complication in an already difficult situation. She went to their dressing room and began taking off her stage make-up.

It was almost midnight when they returned to the vicarage, having first stopped to change their clothes at Polly’s establishment. It had been decided that Maisie should remain at the vicarage until morning, as it was unsafe for her to walk home alone at this hour of the night. Even as Rose opened the scullery door she sensed that all was not well, and, as she entered the kitchen she heard the sound of groaning. A single candle guttered on the table leaving the room in deep shadow, and she almost tripped over Maisie, who was lying on a mat by the range. She was curled up in a ball, clutching her belly and moaning piteously.

Rose went down on her knees beside her. ‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’

Cora lit a lamp and held it over them. ‘What’s the matter?’

Maisie raised a pale, tear-stained face and her mouth contorted with pain. ‘I dunno, miss. I got collywobbles. It don’t half hurt.’ She grimaced and clutched her hands around her belly.

Rose looked closer and saw a tell-tale dark stain on the mat where Maisie lay. She exchanged worried glances with Cora. ‘We’ll need towels and hot water.’ She smoothed Maisie’s hair back from her damp forehead. ‘It will be over soon. Don’t be scared, we helped once when a woman miscarried at Aunt Polly’s, so we know what to do. It’s probably for the best.’

A thin sliver of daylight filtered through the kitchen window as Rose and Cora sat down to drink a well-earned cup of tea. Maisie had survived her ordeal, and was sleeping peacefully in Billy’s old room.

Cora added two lumps of sugar to her cup. ‘I suppose if the worst comes to the worst we could seek employment as midwives.’

Rose sipped her tea. ‘As Papa would say, losing the baby this early is a blessing in disguise, but I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor girl.’

‘She’s little more than a child herself.’ Cora stifled a yawn. ‘I’m so tired, Rose. I must get some sleep.’

‘Go to bed. I’ll finish clearing up.’

Cora stood up, gazing anxiously at her sister. ‘You must be exhausted, too.’

Rose shrugged and smiled. ‘Oddly enough I’m not at all tired. It will probably catch up with me later, but when I’ve finished in here I’m going to Papa’s study to get pen and paper, and I’m going to write to Mrs Harman.’

‘But you don’t know where she lives, other than that it’s a place called Lyme Regis.’

‘I spoke to Mrs Blunt before she went off duty yesterday afternoon, and she remembered posting letters to Isabel Harman at Beehive Cottage. She might still be living there so it’s worth a try.’

‘I suppose so, but I’m too worn out to think. Wake me up in time for breakfast, Rose. We don’t want Papa to suspect anything.’

‘I agree. I’m hoping that Papa will agree to take Maisie on as scullery maid. He knows her situation, and I’m certain he would consider it unchristian to turn her away in her hour of need. I’ll be sure to point that out to him should he refuse.’ Rose finished her tea and stood up. ‘Go to bed, Corrie. Leave everything to me.’

Having banked up the fire in the range and tidied away all signs of the night’s events, Rose went to her father’s study and sat down at his desk to compose a letter to her mother’s old friend. She was reading it through when her father walked into the room. He came to a halt, staring at her in surprise.

‘Rose? It’s six o’clock in the morning. Why are you up so early, and to whom are you writing?’

She smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Papa. I should have asked you first, but I’m composing a letter to Mrs Harman.’

Seymour pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Why are you writing to your godmother?’

‘Dr Grantley said that Mama needed rest and fresh air, and Mrs Harman lives by the sea in Lyme Regis.’

‘I think I follow your line of thought, Rose, but this is a matter for your mother and myself to decide, not you.’

‘I realise that, of course, but there’s no harm in finding out if my godmother still resides in Beehive Cottage.’

Seymour regarded her steadily. ‘Your mother had a restless night, and I’ve barely slept at all.’ He stood up again, and began to pace the room. ‘Perhaps you’re right, Rose. Maybe I haven’t been willing to face the fact that Eleanor’s condition is worsening.’

‘You look exhausted,’ Rose said softly. ‘You could go with her.’

‘And leave my flock? No, I couldn’t do that.’ He came to a halt by the desk. ‘Finish your letter and post it. If Isabel invites your mother to stay I’ll make sure that she accepts, and you will travel with her.’

‘But surely you ought to accompany her, Pa.’

‘I can’t leave Joshua to cope alone. He has almost completed his training, but this is not an easy parish to run. No, I will remain here, and, all things being equal, you will take your mother to Dorset. Cora can stay with me, and keep house while you are away.’

Rose could see that he had made his mind up and she knew that to argue would be futile. She seized the opportunity to mention Maisie. ‘That sounds an excellent plan, Pa. But Cora and Mrs Blunt would need extra help. It just so happens that Aunt Polly has no further need of Maisie’s services. Perhaps she could stay on as maid of all work … for a while, anyway.’

‘I suppose so. I know you will give me no peace unless I agree.’

‘We rely so much on Mrs Blunt. I’m sure she will be glad of an extra pair of hands.’ Rose signed the letter with a flourish and blotted the ink dry. ‘I’ll post this after breakfast, if you’ll be kind enough to give me a penny for the stamp.’

He smiled and nodded. ‘You are so like your dear mama was when I first met her. If she had made up her mind to a certain course of action, she would allow nothing to stand in her way. I believe I might have remained a dry old bachelor had she not seen something in me to love.’

‘I’m sure you sent many hearts aflutter, Pa,’ Rose said smiling.

‘I would not claim such a thing even if it were true. I’m afraid I was a dull dog, but Eleanor didn’t seem to think so. I’ve been much blessed with a wonderful wife and three healthy and handsome children. I’m proud of you all, and with William about to follow me into the ministry I couldn’t ask for more.’

Rose had to bite her lip to prevent herself from crying. The thought of her parents learning the truth about their beloved son was too much to bear. She made an excuse to leave the room, and instead of going to the kitchen to see if Mrs Blunt needed any assistance in the preparation of breakfast, she crossed the hall to the drawing room and let herself out into the garden through the French doors.

It was cold and there was a faint hint of frost icing the lawn, but the birds were singing their spring song and daffodils bowed gracefully in the gentle breeze. The air still smelled of soot, smoke and the effluent pumped out of the factories that lined the Regent Canal, but it was quiet and peaceful in the garden and she needed time on her own to think. The money they had saved so far would pay a little more than half the legal fees, but now there was no prospect of earning more at the saloon. Billy’s life and liberty hung in the balance, and there was no one to whom she could turn for help.

She folded her arms in an attempt to keep warm as she walked through the shrubbery, carefully avoid-ing small clumps of violets and golden celandines. This town garden had been her retreat and solace since she was a child. The old swing hung limp and neglected from an overhanging branch of a sturdy oak tree, and the climbing rose planted on the day of her christening had rampaged up the trellis and had reached the eaves above her bedroom window. In summer it would produce small creamy clusters of sweet-smelling flowers, filling her room with heady perfume. She looked up and saw that Cora’s curtains were still drawn. A fat pigeon was resting on the windowsill and its beady eyes stared down at her. If only she could fly like a bird, she would soar high up in the sky and head for the West Country. Perhaps a personal plea to Bennett Sharpe would persuade him to continue with Billy’s case regardless of their finances. She felt sure she could convince him that to win such a difficult case would greatly benefit his career, but she needed to speak to him in person, and that in itself was a problem as she did not know where to contact him. Then it came to her in a flash. ‘Scully!’ she said out loud, causing the pigeon to fly to the relative safety of the oak tree. A glimmer of hope lifted her spirits. Sharpe had said that Scully would know how to contact him in Cornwall, and there was nothing she would not do in order to save Billy from the hangman’s noose. She would visit Sharpe’s chambers in Lincoln’s Inn and leave a message for Scully to contact her as a matter of urgency. She hurried indoors and went to wake Cora. Everything must appear to be normal, she thought as she negotiated the stairs. No one must suspect that anything untoward had happened.

Eventually, after enquiring at the clerks’ room at Sharpe’s chambers, Rose found someone who was well acquainted with Scully. He had not yet returned from his trip to Oxford, but the clerk promised to pass on the message that Miss Perkins had need of his services. It was frustrating, but Rose had no option other than to leave and hope that Scully would contact her before too long. She called in at Polly’s house on the way home and related in detail the events of the previous evening, including the sudden end to Maisie’s pregnancy.

‘It’s just as well,’ Polly said, nodding. ‘The girl is far too young to be saddled with a child, as well as being not quite right in the head. She’ll make a good scullery maid, but you’ll need to keep an eye on her. She was getting very friendly with young Bobby Lee, and you know what boys are, and men in general.’ She rolled her eyes as if to labour the point. ‘I have rooms filled with unmarried girls and women who have been led astray.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on her, Aunt Polly.’

‘And you say you’ve written to Isabel?’ Polly said thoughtfully. ‘She is a good woman, although I don’t think she quite approved of me. However, that’s by the bye, and I’m sure she would be only too pleased to see my sister again. As I recall they were inseparable when we were young.’

‘I’ll feel so much happier when I know that Mama is on the mend, but I’m desperate to speak to Scully. I’m afraid that Mr Sharpe will refuse to go any further with the case when he finds out that we’ve only raised half his fee.’

Polly leaned against the buttoned back of the chaise longue, idly stroking Spartacus, who was twitching his tail as if irritated by this casual show of affection. ‘You know what you must do, Rose,’ she said after a moment’s thought.

‘I’m not sure, Aunt. I’ve been racking my brains in an attempt to find a solution, and time is short. I don’t know when Billy’s case is due in court, but it must be soon.’

‘There is only one thing you can do, Rose. You must go to Cornwall in person and speak directly to Sharpe. From my brief acquaintance with him I would say that he is a reasonable man, but I suspect he could be quite ruthless if the need arose. He knows how you have been raising the money and he will understand if you tell him why it has come to an end.’

‘Do you really think I ought to travel to Cornwall? How would I explain that to my parents?’

‘That is up to you, Rose. I can only make suggestions. You are the one who will have to carry them out.’ Polly snatched her hand away as Spartacus took a spiteful swipe at her fingers. ‘You wretched animal. I don’t know why I took you in off the street.’

‘You have a big heart, Aunt Polly,’ Rose said, rising from her chair by the fire. ‘And he is a spoiled beast. He thinks he can behave exactly as he pleases and he gets away with it.’

Polly sighed. ‘He’s a male, my dear. They’re all the same under the skin, or the fur, it doesn’t matter what species they are. Men rule the world.’

‘Nonsense, Aunt. We have a queen on the throne and Britannia rules the waves; both are women.’ Rose leaned over to kiss her aunt on the cheek. ‘You are the best aunt and the most generous person I have ever known. You’ve given me hope, and now I know what I must do. When I’ve spoken to Scully I’ll be able to make a plan, but until then I’ll wait for a response to my letter to my godmother. I posted it on my way to Lincoln’s Inn, so hopefully it will reach Isabel very soon.’

‘I wish there was more I could do,’ Polly said, sighing. ‘I’m not a rich woman.’

‘You’ve helped immeasurably, Aunt.’ Rose reached for her shawl. ‘I’ve left Cora to cope at home and she’ll have Maisie to look after as well as Mama, so I’d better hurry.’

‘I’ll miss your nightly visits, child. But you must do what you think best, and if I can help in any way you must let me know.’ Polly elbowed Spartacus out of the way as she raised herself from the chaise longue. ‘I know I ought not to suggest it, as your father would not approve, but you might do well to pay a call on the manager of the Grecian Theatre. I don’t think the Sunshine Sisters are finished yet.’

Rose tied the ribbons on her bonnet at an angle beneath her chin. ‘I’ll do anything to earn the rest of the money to pay for Billy’s defence, although I’m not sure that the Sunshine Sisters are quite ready for the Grecian.’

‘Nonsense, my love. You have inherited some of my talent. It would be a shame to hide yourself away doing good works when you could be giving joy to so many.’

Rose kissed her aunt’s leathery cheek. ‘I don’t think Papa would agree with you, but I’ll bear that in mind.’ She left the house, glancing up and down the street in the hope that Scully might turn up suddenly, but there was just the usual mix of people going about their daily business. The more affluent housewives were out shopping, accompanied by their maids. Others, less fortunate, whose shabby clothes and down-at-heel boots defined their place in society, rubbed shoulders with bowler-hatted rent collectors, chimney sweeps, costermongers and errand boys. Rose hurried home.

She spent the next few days waiting anxiously for word from her godmother and from Scully. Maisie recovered quickly and was put to work in the house, which she seemed to consider was a step up from being a humble scullery maid. Eleanor remained in bed, improving slightly each day, but she was still too weak to stand unaided and her appetite was poor. Mrs Blunt shook her head at the sight of untouched plates of food, although Maisie was only too pleased to polish them off.

On the fourth day, Rose had almost given up hope of hearing from Isabel and was beginning to wonder if Scully had received her urgent message. She was about to leave the house on a parish errand when the postman arrived bearing a letter from Lyme Regis, and at exactly the same moment Scully turned up outside the front gate with a big grin on his sallow features.

Rose ushered him into the parlour, safe in the knowledge that her father was in his study, fully occupied as he composed his Sunday sermon. Cora was upstairs sitting with their mother, and Maisie was in the scullery peeling potatoes. Mrs Blunt rarely ventured outside the kitchen during working hours and it was unlikely that they would be interrupted. She motioned Scully to take a seat by the fire, and she perched on the chair opposite him.

‘I need to see Mr Sharpe,’ she said firmly. ‘Will you take me to him, Mr Scully?’

He held his hands out to the blaze. ‘Good fire you have going there, miss. It was very cold up there in Oxfordshire.’

‘I’d offer you a cup of tea, but I don’t want to alert anyone as to your presence.’

Scully cast a quick look round the room and his mouth drew down at the corners. ‘Something a little stronger would be of benefit to a man perished with cold, miss.’

Rose jumped to her feet and moved swiftly to a corner cupboard. She unlocked it and took out a bottle of brandy. ‘My father keeps this for medicinal purposes.’ She hesitated. ‘I’d pour you a tot, but I’d have difficulty explaining a wet glass.’

Scully held out his hand. ‘Give it here, miss. I can take it neat.’ He snatched the bottle from her and held it to his lips.

Rose watched as his prominent Adam’s apple moved up and down above his dirty cravat with each gulp of the fiery spirit. He licked his lips, belched and handed the bottle back to her. ‘That’s done the trick.’ He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘Now then, let us have a talk.’

He left ten minutes later, having agreed to take Rose with him when he returned to Cornwall towards the end of the following week. They would meet at the station hotel in Exeter at midday, or thereabouts, on the Thursday. Quite how she was going to explain her departure to her mother, and what method of transport she might use to reach her destination, was a problem that she would meet when it arose, but as she saw him out of the house she experienced a feeling of near panic. Perhaps she had been too hasty making such an arrangement when she had not seen the contents of Isabel’s letter. She returned to the parlour, closed the door and went to sit by the fire where she broke the seal on that letter with trembling fingers. She studied Isabel’s copperplate writing, scanning through the pleasantries until she came to the last paragraph. The words danced about before her eyes and her breath hitched in her throat. If the response was negative she would simply have to think of another excuse to leave London. She crossed her fingers and read on.

Indeed, dear Rose, it would give me great pleasure to entertain yourself and Eleanor as my guests for as long as you wish to stay. Lyme Regis is particularly lovely at this time of year, subject to the vagaries of the English climate, but the air is clean and bracing. I am certain that a prolonged visit would improve my dear friend’s health, and we will have much to talk about. I have advised my servants to make rooms ready, so please, please come as soon as you may. Send word of your travelling arrangements by return and I look forward to seeing you in the very near future.

Your devoted godmother and friend,

Isabel Harman

‘Thank you, Godmother,’ Rose cried out loud. ‘You don’t know it but you might well have saved Billy’s life.’

She took a deep breath and stood up. Everything depended upon her mother’s agreement to go and take Rose with her, although she would keep her own travel plans thereafter to herself.

Bepul matn qismi tugadi. Ko'proq o'qishini xohlaysizmi?