The house on the corner of Bishop Street was more of a small mansion and had many rooms both up and downstairs. Sylvia Chilton had little idea of style but she knew what she liked and her parlour was a hotchpotch of designs and colours. An English oak sideboard was flanked by two delicate spindle-legged chairs. Chintz curtains hung at the windows and a huge Ormolu clock took centre position on the shelf above the fire. Large rugs covered the highly polished wooden floor and small tables were dotted between armchairs and sofas.
Now Sylvia lived alone, only one of the six bedrooms was used, above which the servants’ quarters were reached via a set of back stairs; these lay dormant and dusty. On the ground floor, as well as the parlour, was a dining room – again unused as Sylvia ate in the kitchen. The drawing room door was never opened and the butler’s pantry was also closed off. The scullery housed cleaning materials and a tin bath hung on the wall.
Sylvia had let her daughter in and eyed her as they now sat opposite each other in the parlour.
‘Mother, what is wrong with you that you can’t see what Gabriel Short is doing?!’ Elizabeth Murray spat nastily.
‘Elizabeth, it really isn’t any of your business,’ Sylvia replied. ‘You are my daughter – not my keeper!’
‘Oh, for goodness sake! He’s only after your money!’
‘I don’t agree. In my opinion, Gabriel is a gentleman,’ Sylvia was trying to keep her temper in check.
‘Gentleman! He’s a gigolo, Mother, and at your age you should know better!’ Elizabeth snapped. She was so wrapped up in her own anger, she didn’t see the hurt in her mother’s eyes.
‘I’m concerned he will ingratiate himself into your affections before taking your money and leaving you high and dry.’
‘I’ve heard enough!’ Sylvia barked. ‘Just go home, Elizabeth, and leave me to live my own life.’
Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Elizabeth sniffed loudly and flounced from the room.
Sylvia sighed as she heard the front door open, then slam shut. In the silence that followed, she couldn’t help but wonder if her daughter was indeed correct in her thinking. Was she doing the right thing going against Elizabeth’s wishes regarding a man she barely knew? What if Elizabeth was proved right in the end and Gabriel Short was only after her money? Was this man worth falling out with her daughter for? After all, she had only known him but a few weeks.
If she was honest with herself, the thing that irked Sylvia the most was how Elizabeth thought she knew what was best for her mother. Living alone now did not mean that Sylvia had lost all reason. She was still capable of making her own decisions and, right or wrong – she only had herself to answer to.
Feeling weary, Sylvia pushed herself out of the easy chair and went to the kitchen to make tea. The house was silent and empty and suddenly loneliness wrapped itself around her and held her tight in its grip. Covering her face with her hands, Sylvia Chilton wept for her dead husband, her overbearing daughter, but mostly for herself. The thought of feeling this way for her remaining years had her cry like her heart was broken.
Elizabeth Murray had no intentions of letting that man dupe her mother out of her money. She would find a way to prevent it happening if only for the fact that it was her inheritance.
Travelling home in a cab, her mind worked rapidly as to how she could expose Gabriel Short for the man she suspected he truly was. His sweet words and his bowing and scraping had no effect on her whatsoever, in fact it made her dislike him all the more. It all seemed so false. She was confident that she had hit the nail squarely on the head – the man was a charlatan. Although her eyes had stared out of the window on the journey, Elizabeth registered nothing. She didn’t notice the men standing in the bread line, as they did day after day, in the hope of finding work. Nor did she see the bedraggled women chatting in the street as they kept an eye on their wilful children. All she could focus on was that dreadful man and what he was putting her mother through.
Once home, Elizabeth sat in her own parlour and pondered. She could let her mother have her own way regarding Mr Short, but that could prove an expensive lesson for Sylvia to learn. Or, she could find a way of discovering whether Short was the man he claimed to be.
Trying to recall his answers to her questions, Elizabeth frowned. … fingers in many pies he had said. Mr Short had not revealed exactly what business he was in, which was suspect in itself, and would make it difficult for discreet enquiries to be made. However, Elizabeth would not give up, she would find a way to prove her point – that Gabriel Short was a perfidious liar and cheat. Knowing there was no time like the present, Elizabeth grabbed her parasol and once more left the house. She was going to visit the foreman of her late father’s carriage works. Maybe he could shed some light on the mysterious Mr Short.
Over in Bailey Street, Nellie watched with glee as one full barrel followed another into her cellar; the draymen helping Frederick to unload and roll them into the spaces made available.
Doffing their caps for the tip Nellie gave, the draymen went on their way.
‘That’s it, cellar’s full to bursting,’ Frederick said as he walked into the kitchen.
‘Ta, Fred. I’d like a word so sit you down. That fella you chucked out t’other day – he was Dolly’s step-father.’ She was unaware that Nancy had explained all to him previously.
‘Oh, I’m sorry Nellie, if I made a mistake…’ Frederick replied. He was feeling wretched and his eyes darted to Nancy hoping she wouldn’t hold his error against him.
‘No, you did the right thing,’ Nellie assured him. ‘Look, let me explain. Dolly’s mum left her a necklace which she sold. She gave the money to me and that was how I could pay Ezra off. Now, I suspect her step-father thinks she still has the necklace and he wants it. I’m worried he might try to take off with Dolly. She’s scared stiff of him Fred, and I need…’
‘I’ll do it! I’ll look after her, Nellie. I swear I won’t let her out of my sight,’ Frederick said quickly.
‘Thanks, Fred, I knew I could rely on you,’ Nellie said with a smile.
‘Me an’ the Dempsters will keep everybody safe, Nellie.’ The big man’s voice was quiet but the promise in his words gave Nellie the reassurance she was looking for.
‘Cup of tea, Fred?’’ Nancy asked now that was settled.
‘Ooh, lovely. Can I have a bit of your smashing cake an’ all please?’
Nancy grinned and nodded with a blush to her cheeks.
Taking a seat, Frederick rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the culinary delight.
Just then Jack and Dolly tumbled in through the doorway to join Frederick at the table and he immediately began to tease them.
‘No, you gotta say it quick like,’ Fred said. ‘Try again. I chased a bug around a corner, I’ll get his blood he knows I will.’
It took a moment for it to sink in precisely what was being said and the children laughed heartily as they realised they had actually been swearing.
‘Try this one – red lorry, yellow lorry,’ Fred suggested.
This tongue-twister caused howls of hilarious laughter as everyone gave it a go.
‘I know one an’ all,’ Nancy said as she collected her thoughts. ‘She sells sea shells on the sea shore.’
Again, shea sells were being shold on the shea sore which had Fred’s booming voice bouncing off the walls.
Nellie watched them for a moment. It was like having three children, albeit one being much bigger than the other two.
Frederick was not academically inclined but he knew right from wrong. Nellie revelled in the laughter echoing around the kitchen, which was interrupted by Poppy calling for some help in the bar. Nellie duly obliged, leaving the others to enjoy their break time.
The Chilton Carriage Works stood at one end of a long street named Cheapside. The horse repository was spread out around it and inside men worked long and hard putting together many different styles of carriages. Landaus, cabriolets, phaetons, traps – all were constructed here and sold on to those who could afford to buy them. The loud banging of hammers on metal echoed around the massive space as men knocked in bolts. Grunts sounded as others forced large springs into place and whistling could be heard from the upholsterers as they stitched together the leather for the seating.
Elizabeth had arrived and immediately headed towards the foreman’s office. The man apologised for being unable to help Elizabeth regarding her questions about Gabriel Short at that precise moment. However, he assured her he would make enquiries himself and inform her of any outcome.
She had also confided in her husband who had agreed to help in her quest. After all, when his mother-in-law passed on, the carriage works would come to Elizabeth and himself so it was in his interests to keep it safely within the family.
There was nothing more Elizabeth could do but sit back and hope someone could give her more information about Short.
With regards to her mother, Elizabeth was in a quandary. Should she apologise for her behaviour and hurtful words and hope to be welcomed back? Or should she just leave Sylvia to her own devices and pray all turned out well in the end? Elizabeth pondered the dilemma until she could no longer think straight. In the end she decided to do nothing and wait for her mother’s call for help – which she guessed would surely come eventually – sooner rather than later, she hoped.