Nettie's Secret by Dilly Court

Author:Dilly Court [Dilly Court]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2019-03-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Robert stood in front of the ornately carved mantelshelf, gazing up at the painting of a young girl in an idyllic rural setting. ‘You were only eleven then, Nettie,’ he said proudly.

‘I do remember sitting for it, Pa. But we were living in Plaistow and I don’t think we ever ventured out of the city.’

Robert smiled benevolently. ‘I used my imagination, Nettie. A background of grimy streets and ragged children would not have had the same appeal.’

Maurice shook his head. ‘Poor child. You only have to look out of the window to see what you’ve missed. I grew up in a cottage not a stone’s throw from the brewery. I count myself very fortunate to have had so much freedom.’

‘We can’t all reside in the country,’ Robert said sharply. ‘I had to make a living and London was the best place to sell my work. Where, as a matter of interest, did you purchase this one?’

‘It weren’t in London, that’s for certain. I think I got it in a small gallery in Dover, as far as I can recall. I just had to have it.’ He turned to Nettie, eyeing her closely. ‘You’ve grown into quite a beauty, but you were obviously a charming child. I always wanted to have a little girl to make a fuss of, but our little angel was with us for a short time only. A long time after Rufus was born my wife gave birth to a baby girl, but she survived only a few hours …’

‘Maurice.’ A shrill voice behind them made all three turn round to look at the small, plump woman who had burst into the dining room. Her cheeks were stained scarlet and her lips had disappeared into a thin slit. She might once have been considered pretty, but years of discontent had soured her expression and furrowed her brow. ‘Who are these people? There are strangers in the parlour, too.’

‘You were asleep when they arrived, my little dumpling, and I didn’t like to wake you so early this morning.’ Maurice hurried towards her, holding out his hands, but she brushed them aside.

‘You haven’t answered my question. Are they a travelling theatrical group? The woman said she is a condesa, whatever that means.’

‘She is a Spanish noblewoman, Jane, my love,’ Maurice said hastily. ‘They needed shelter for the night and Rufus brought them here. Quite right, too.’ He laid a tentative hand on her arm. ‘Come and meet Robert. Mr Carroll is the artist who painted this picture, and this young lady is his daughter, Nettie. She is the little girl in the painting. If our baby girl had lived I like to think that she would have looked like that.’

‘I don’t want strangers to know of our personal tragedy,’ Jane said in a low voice. ‘There isn’t a day goes by when I don’t think of our little daughter.’

‘I’m sorry, my dear. It was thoughtless of me.’ Maurice took a brightly coloured paisley handkerchief from his breast pocket and blew his nose.

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