Ettie was fascinated. It was almost as if he was about to take her in his arms but stopped at the last moment. Instead, she raised her gloved hand to his shoulder, her eyes interlocked with his, in silent message. Playfully, she tilted his flat cap and knocked it to the ground, giggling as she skipped to the carriage.
The driver brushed back his thick, ruffled dark hair and bent to retrieve his cap. Then checked to ensure his mistress was safe inside the carriage.
For the first time, Ettie was given full view of his face.
The world seemed to thunder in her ears. Everything stood still. She felt her throat tighten and wondered if she could breathe again. A rush of heat swamped her. She blinked hard – and harder still. Her eyelids seemed to be the only part of her body able to move.
Unaware of her gaze, he leapt up to the high seat and snatched the reins.
Ettie’s fingertips pressed against the glass. A cry left her lips. Was there time to attract his attention?
But the carriage moved forward, its two large rear wheels spinning up the Soho dust in a gritty cloud. Ettie was left with a fleeting memory of a damson-red brougham that might have belonged to aristocracy. But most memorable of all, its beautiful passenger whose departing presence made Silver Street seem more desolate than it ever had before.
She stood still, her heart racing. Could she be mistaken? But no, her eyes had not deceived her. The driver was still the same Michael as she remembered him. Taller perhaps and broader. But he was still her handsome Michael who had once made a vow in Victoria Park that she was his girl.
Chapter 26
That evening, Ettie sat alone in the big, empty house. She hadn’t stopped thinking about the young woman who had visited the salon. Or her driver who had waited outside as she purchased her tobacco and pipe. Michael had only been a few feet away …
There had been an intimacy between the two young people, an understanding that belied their stations of mistress and servant. They had stood close enough to almost touch one another; their gaze connected. The playful movement of her fingers had made him smile as she knocked his cap to the ground.
Had I known it was Michael, would I have had the courage to go outside and greet him? Ettie wondered.
But the more Ettie thought about this, the clearer the answer became. There was an affection between the girl and Michael. One so obvious that it hurt Ettie deeply to see. She knew the feeling inside her must be jealousy. A fierce emotion that pushed everything else from her mind; the wrench at leaving the orphanage, Gwen and Lily’s deception, the theft of Lucas’s money and even the admission of her neglect when Lucas and Clara came home.
All of her woes seemed insignificant now. Around and around in her head went the image of Michael and the girl. He had looked so handsome in his uniform. A life of crime had certainly not entrapped him. What were his feelings for his wealthy young mistress who had teased him so playfully?
Her feelings for Michael, Ettie realized, were more than friendship. Jealousy hurt so much. Was it love? She had prayed that one day she would see him again. Then today she had. But now he was a new Michael; someone she didn’t know.
Ettie went to the salon and lit a candle. She took it to the counter and sat on the stool beside Rose. Here in the flickering glow, she poured out her heart.
‘What would he have said to me if we’d spoken?’ she asked, peering up at the portrait. ‘Would he even have remembered me? I thought we’d be together in the end. He told me I was his girl. But now I know I’m not.’
Ettie tried not to be miserable. The good Lord had answered all her prayers. Michael had prospered and left his wild ways behind him. Lucas’s business was all in good order; his recent letter had expressed his delight at Ettie’s own news. Clara’s good health and happiness had returned since Dr Ruegg had told her the baby would be born at the sanatoria in August. The result – a long-awaited child that would unite Lucas and Clara forever. And for herself, Ettie thought selfishly – if she was forgiven for December’s mistake – a chance to help Clara look after the baby.
It wouldn’t do to mope like this. It certainly would not do!
‘Buck up Ettie! Show the world your mettle.’
The words came out of nowhere.
Ettie smiled through her held-back tears. ‘I will try, Rose,’ she promised, blowing out the candle. ‘Thank you and goodnight.’
But for all her good intentions, she lay awake, unable to sleep. Michael was all she could think about; Michael and the beautiful young woman who had captured his heart.
‘Ettie, Ettie, are you there?’ It was just after she had closed the salon door when there was a loud bang on the kitchen door. ‘It’s me, Terence.’
She hurried to open it. ‘Terence, what’s wrong?’
‘Not a single thing. Didn’t want to trouble you during business hours. Come and see this.’ He tugged her out into the warm May evening. ‘What do you think?’
Ettie stared curiously at the scruffy wicker cradle perched lopsidedly on a four-wheeled iron frame. ‘It’s one of these new-fangled perambulators,’ Terence said proudly. He lifted the cradle and set it down again on the chassis straps. ‘Nothing wrong with it, m’dear. Bit rough round the edges. But all in all, a bargain.’
‘Where did you get it?’ Ettie stepped forward to inspect the odd-looking contraption.
‘Aggie,’ he told her excitedly. ‘The old girl had it priced at a couple of bob. I said it was for you. She says, so the tobacconist’s girl has a baby? I says, not her own personal baby,
