“My darling child. My own darling child!”
Carolan ran to Kitty, and they embraced.
“Mamma, I could not stay away longer.”
“No, no, my love, of course you could not!”
“Mamma, you are truly glad to see me?”
Kitty laughed; it was the same spontaneous laugh that Carolan remembered well. Kitty held her at arm’s length and looked at her.
“How you have grown, my love I’ ” “Have I, Mamma?”
“Why, when I left you were only a baby.”
“Oh, no, Mamma, not a baby!”
“Then a very little girl.” Kitty held out a hand and drew Darrell into the magic family circle.
“Now I have both my darlings with me.” Carolan looked from one to the other.
“Is not your daughter a regular beauty, sir?” demanded Kitty.
“She is a sweet creature, and I am proud of her,” said Darrell shyly.
“But, darling,” said Kitty, ‘why did you not let us know you were coming?”
“There was not time.” A dark shadow crossed Carolan’s face.
“It is too much to talk of now. Mamma. I will tell you later. Mamma, there is one thing I must tell you… and you too.” She smiled shyly at Darrell.
“I shall not stay long, because I am going to be married.”
Kitty wiped her eyes.
“My own sweet darling, to marry! But you are but a child.”
“Rising seventeen!” said Carolan.
“Can you believe it, Darrell, my darling? And whom have they chosen for you, sweetheart?”
“They did not choose. Indeed they are not happy about the choice. Everard and I chose.”
“Everard? Everard Orland? The parson’s son?” Kitty laughed gaily.
“Well, he is a dear boy, and I am happy. He will make a good husband.”
“So I think,” said Carolan, And they all laughed, though Carolan noticed that there was something hollow about her father’s laughter, as though he had not learned how to do it properly.
“I have been robbed … twice!” cried Carolan, and then remembered Jonathan Crew.
“Oh…” she cried, and turned towards him; he emerged from the doorway and came slowly into the shop.
Darrell hastily took a step forward.
“Can I help you, sir?” he asked. But Carolan rushed in with explanations.
“This gentleman was kind enough to bring me here. I was the victim of a second pickpocket, and he said the streets were unsafe and that he would show me the way.”
“Then we have to thank you, sir,” said Darrell.
“Carolan, my sweet!” said Kitty.
“You must be hungry; come along and we will eat.”
Darrell turned to Jonathan Crew.
“And you, sir you will take a glass with us? We would have you know that we are indeed grateful to you for bringing out daughter through these streets.”
“It is a kindness, and would be a pleasure,” said Mr. Crew, and all four of them went through a door into the shop parlour.
Pale sunshine, streaming through her window, awakened Carolan next morning. Just at first she could not remember where she was, for the room and its furniture were unfamiliar; a strange room indeed, full of shabby grandeur. The two armchairs, with their brocade coverings, had been splendid once; the carved table was a beauty; the curtains were rich though I torn in places and a little dirty.
The incidents of the day before crowded into Carolan’s mind. She remembered coming through the streets of London to her father’s shop; she remembered drinking a glass of ale with Their new friend, Mr. Crew, who had volunteered a little information about himself. He had a clerkship in a shipping company’s office on the river bank; he lived in the Grape Street neighbourhood because it was cheap and he found it interesting. He had little money, he said oddly, for any entertainment save the study of human nature and indeed there could not be a more interesting study, nor one that was kinder to the purse.
They had talked of him a little, after he had gone.
“An honest man,” said Darrell, ‘and one without pretensions.”
But Kitty had added: “A little on the dull side. Now I would have preferred my Carolan to have been brought here by a nobleman!”
“A nobleman in Grape Street!” laughed Darrell indulgently.
“That, my dear, is looking for an apple on a pear tree.”
“Indeed it is not!” retorted Kitty.
“Often enough I have heard of noblemen coming down to the poor parts of London, disguised as clerks or journeymen, or tinkers, or what you will. It is a new sport among the aristocracy.”
She was the same Kitty, painting rosy pictures of the life around her as she wanted it to be, not as it was.
Carolan stretched herself in bed and thought, I do believe she is trying to conjure up a romance for me and Mr. Crew, who, she is assuring herself, is a prince disguised as a clerk. And this in spite of what I have told her of Everard! Dear, inconsequent Mamma, to whom fidelity is an elastic quality to be stretched by her according to her need and mood of the moment.
Last night she had brought Carolan into this room, and had sat at the dressing-table, twirling her hair while the candlelight played about her face.
“Of course, darling,” she had said, ‘this is no permanent home! It is a stepping-stone to better things. Your father has told me so, and well you know your father is not the man to lie. He has said to me: “Kitty, my own love, this is not what I would wish for you!” And indeed I understand that, for is it what I have been used to!
“No!” he said.
“One day I shall make a fortune here, and then you shall have a fine house, a worthy setting for your beauty.” And, Carolan, do you think me still beautiful? What do you say? Have I aged much since you last saw me?”
She had indeed looked lovely with the candlelight to soften her face.
Carolan had laughed at her vanity, but had been unable to resist pleasing her charming, illogical mother.
Then Kitty cried a little, and laughed a good deal, and said she was happy, happy, happy that her own darling daughter had at last come home to her mother. She had kissed her tenderly; insisted on waiting until she was in bed, and tucking her in as though she were a little child. Carolan remembered sharply that when she had been a child, Kitty had not come to tuck her in. But such thoughts she quickly dismissed, because when Kitty was with her it was always difficult not to fall in with the bit of play-acting she was putting over at the moment.
Carolan put one bare foot out to the rug beside her bed; then the other. She pattered across the floor to the narrow window. Now she was looking down on the mean street. It was deserted, no doubt because of the earliness of the hour. The dingy houses opposite were so close that but for the curtains it would have been possible to see into those rooms behind them. When she leaned out of the window she could see the facade of the shop, but the door was shut and the old clothes which had hung in the doorway had been taken in.
She thought of Jonathan Crew’s words “These streets are as full of thieves as a warren is of rabbits.” She wondered why her father, if he had wanted a shop, did not have one in a busy thoroughfare such as some of those through which she had passed yesterday on her way from the Oxford Arms. Surely more business could be done in those busy streets. She thought of the ladies and gentlemen riding by in their carriages. They would not want to buy old clothes, of course, but there were other things in the shop.
She left the window and washed her hands and face in the basin. The water was cold and refreshing.
When she was dressed she opened her door and listened. There was no sound in the house; evidently her parents were not early risers. She smiled to herself, thinking what a good idea it would be to prepare breakfast and take it up to their room. Her mother, she was sure, would enjoy that. She tiptoed downstairs and along the passage to the shop parlour. There was a sour smell in the place, which she decided probably came from all those secondhand goods in the shop beyond.