The Button Box: Gripping historical romance from the Sunday Times Bestseller. Dilly Court
Nathaniel opened the carriage door and helped Jane board the train in such a casual way that she did not protest her independence. He proffered his hand to Clara and waited until she was safely settled before climbing in after them. He placed his hat on the luggage rack and sat down.
Clara felt the need to make conversation. ‘Do you live in London, Mr Silver?’
‘I have a room in Great Queen Street.’
‘And how do you make your living?’ Jane asked eagerly.
‘I don’t think that’s any of our business.’ Clara turned her head, hiding her embarrassment by gazing out of the window. It was bad enough having to travel to town with Miss Silver’s long-lost nephew without Jane making things more difficult by asking personal questions.
‘I’m a musician,’ Nathaniel said easily. ‘I play the violin.’
‘Are you in an orchestra?’ Jane nudged her sister. ‘Did you hear that, Clara? Isn’t it exciting?’
Clara shot a covert glance at Nathaniel. ‘Yes, very.’
‘I’m a classical violinist, but at present I’m working on a composition of my own.’
‘Does that mean you don’t perform in public?’ Jane asked. ‘What a pity. I was hoping we could hear you play. How do you live if you have no work?’
‘Hush, Jane,’ Clara said, frowning. ‘You don’t ask questions like that.’
‘Why not? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Pa is always looking for work.’
‘I’m sure that Mr Silver is not interested in our problems.’ Clara glanced at Nathaniel and was relieved to find that he seemed to be enjoying her younger sister’s naïve comments.
‘I have a private income, Miss Jane, and if I get short of funds I take my violin out on to the streets, and if people like what I play they put money in my hat.’
‘What a good idea.’ Jane clapped her hands. ‘I wish I could do something like that, but I cannot play an instrument, although I do have quite a good singing voice.’
‘It’s not a comfortable way to earn a living in weather like this,’ Nathaniel said, chuckling.
Clara was consumed with guilt. Here was a decent young man, a close relative of Miss Silver’s, who should have inherited her property and yet it had all been left to her, a humble draper’s assistant. She cleared her throat. ‘Your aunt left the shop to me, and a small legacy. I didn’t know that she had family living or I would have tried harder to trace her heirs.’
‘You weren’t to know of my existence, Miss Carter. The fault is mine in allowing such a state of affairs to continue. I was fond of Aunt Rebecca when I was a child.’
‘You’re her nephew. By rights, everything should have come to you.’
‘No, not at all.’ Nathaniel met her anxious gaze with a steady look. ‘I did nothing for my aunt, but it’s obvious that she liked and trusted you. It was her intention that you carried on after her and I would not want to go against her wishes.’
‘You’re a toff,’ Jane said, clapping her hands. ‘You see, Clara? Mr Silver agrees with his aunt.’
‘I do indeed.’ Nathaniel nodded vigorously. ‘It was pure chance that we met today, and for that I’m very grateful. I hope we three might meet again under happier circumstances.’
‘I’d like to hear you play,’ Jane said without giving Clara a chance to think of a suitable answer. ‘I don’t go out very often because I’m a cripple, but I’d like to see your performance if you’re playing somewhere near Wych Street. That’s where we live – opposite the Angel Inn.’
‘I think I can do better than that, Miss Jane. I’m going to audition for the orchestra at the Gaiety Theatre. It’s not what I trained for, but it’s a job and keeps me in practice. If they take me on I’ll see to it that you and your sister have tickets.’
Jane’s eyes shone. ‘That’s wonderful, but what about Lizzie? She’s our other sister, although she’s in service so she doesn’t live with us now. Can she have a ticket as well? And there’s Betsy too. She loves music.’
‘Jane, really,’ Clara said, exasperated. ‘You should know better than to ask for things.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Silver.’ Jane gave him a winning smile. ‘But I’m sure my other sisters would like to come, too.’
He held up his hand as Clara was about to protest. ‘It would be my pleasure to give you as many tickets as you need, providing, of course, that I get the job.’
‘You will get it, I’m sure of that,’ Jane said enthusiastically. ‘What do you think, Clara?’
Nathaniel took off his spectacles and polished them on a grubby handkerchief. ‘You don’t have to answer that, Miss Carter.’
Clara met his quizzical gaze with a smile. His myopic blue eyes twinkled and she found herself warming to him. ‘I’m sure Jane is right, Mr Silver.’
He replaced his glasses and tucked the hanky back in his pocket. ‘Thank you, Miss Carter.’
‘Oh, please!’ Jane looked from one to the other. ‘Do we have to be so stuffy? Might we not use first names now? After all, you both have Miss Silver in common. She would have introduced you formally, had she still been with us.’
‘Aunt Rebecca might approve,’ Nathanial said, smiling. ‘What do you think, Miss Carter?’
‘I think she would be turning in her grave if we overstepped the boundaries, Mr Silver. She was a stickler for etiquette. I was only a little older than Jane when I first worked for her, and she taught me such a lot. I’ll always be grateful to her.’
‘Well, I am going to call you Nathaniel,’ Jane said firmly, ‘and you must call me Jane. If my sister wants to be stuffy, that’s her business.’
‘Very well, Jane. But we must allow your sister to do as she sees fit. I am, after all, a complete stranger.’
‘But not for much longer,’ Jane insisted. ‘You must call on us, mustn’t he, Clara?’
‘Yes, that would be nice,’ Clara said vaguely. She sat back, allowing Jane to chatter, and Nathaniel answered her sister’s eager questions with good-humoured ease. Clara found herself liking him despite the problems that must inevitably arise from too close a friendship with Miss Silver’s nephew, and it was good to see Jane enjoying herself. Her disability had left her a virtual prisoner in their home, making silk flowers and trimmings for the milliner. It was poorly paid work, but every penny counted, and Clara herself had spent long hours in the shop, coming home late in the evening too exhausted to be much company for her youngest sister.
They parted outside the house in Wych Street. Nathaniel had insisted on sharing a cab from Waterloo Bridge station as he was going their way, and he refused to accept payment for their part of the journey. Clara was at once grateful and mortified. She had not wanted him to see where they lived, but he seemed to have made a great hit with Jane, and she could not deny her sister the pleasure of having the full attention of such a pleasant young man. Jane was bubbling over as she made her way down the dark corridor to their tiny apartment.
Clara opened the door and was met by the sight of her father slumped over the table with Betsy and Luke standing over him.
‘What happened?’ Clara cried anxiously. ‘Is he ill?’
‘Is he dead?’ Jane clapped her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.
Luke shook his head. ‘He’s dead drunk. I found him like this and I brought him home.’
‘He’s been missing for three days,’ Betsy said angrily. ‘His pockets are empty, as usual. We should leave him here and move into the rooms above your shop, Clara.’
‘Your