The Christmas Rose Page 7

  Unabashed, Eugene took off his greatcoat and draped it over a chair. ‘Is everything all right, Munday?’

  She gave him a searching look. His dark hair was curling wildly round his head and there were bruise-like smudges beneath his eyes. The woody, citrus scent of bay rum could not quite conceal the smell of garlic, wine and cigar smoke that hung about him like a fine mist.

  ‘Mr Radley has been looking for you.’

  ‘What did you say to him?’

  ‘I said I thought you were chasing up a story.’

  A slow smile lit Eugene’s eyes with golden glints. ‘Well done, Munday. I was in fact asleep until less than half an hour ago. A bit of a late night. I think I had a good time, but I can’t remember much about the last part of it.’

  Rose stifled a chuckle. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Guvnor.’

  ‘Oh, I am. Deeply.’ Eugene sank down in the chair behind his desk. ‘Send Scully to fetch me some coffee, please, Munday. My head is pounding.’

  ‘The editor wants to see you urgently.’

  ‘I can’t do anything until I’ve had a mug of strong black coffee. No sugar. Cousin Arthur will have to wait.’

  Rose gave him a pitying look and went to find Scully, who dutifully braved the rain to fetch the coffee. He returned having filled a jug with the steaming brew.

  ‘It’ll take more than one mug to sober the guvnor up,’ he said, grinning. ‘We go through this regularly. You’ll get used to it.’

  Rose said nothing, but she filled a mug, and took it to Eugene, who was sitting back in his chair with his eyes closed.

  ‘Here you are,’ she said coldly. ‘There’s more if you want it.’

  Eugene opened his eyes. ‘Don’t look so disapproving, Rose. It’s not a crime to enjoy oneself.’

  ‘I never said it was, but I’ve seen men take to drink and it doesn’t end well.’

  ‘Heaven help me, your missionary friends haven’t encouraged you to join the Temperance Movement, have they?’

  ‘I’ve never heard of it,’ Rose said truthfully. ‘Men in the goldfields often drink to excess, but it’s a hard life out there.’

  ‘My dear Munday, I enjoyed an evening out with friends, a good meal and fine wine. You can hardly equate that with the hard-drinking mining community in the State of Victoria.’

  Rose could see this conversation going nowhere and she hastily changed the subject. ‘I’ve typed out the article you wrote. If there’s anything you want to change, just say so and I’ll retype it.’

  Eugene drained the last dregs of coffee and handed the mug to her. ‘Excellent coffee. A refill, please, while I take a look at your latest effort.’

  Rose did as he asked and waited patiently while Eugene pored over the article. He reached for the coffee and drank deeply.

  ‘Excellent. Not many errors and a masterly piece of reporting, even if I say so myself. My talent is being wasted writing such paltry items of news. I need something I can really get my teeth into.’

  ‘Like a war?’ Rose said, smiling. She meant it as a joke but Eugene seemed to take it seriously.

  ‘By Jove, yes. I’ve been trying to persuade Arthur to send me to Egypt to cover the war, but it seems to be over. Although I gather the situation is still tense.’

  ‘Best finish your coffee, Guvnor.’ Rose took the sheet of paper from him. ‘Shall I run this down to the print room?’

  ‘Give it to Scully. I’ve got an assignment for you, Munday.’

  Rose could hardly believe her ears. ‘Really? You’re sending me out to do a report?’

  ‘Yes and no. I’m taking you to the Savoy Theatre this evening to see Patience, the latest opera by Gilbert and Sullivan. Do you like opera?’

  ‘I love music,’ Rose said slowly. ‘But I thought you said I was going on an assignment.’

  ‘You will be. I can hardly send you to the theatre on your own, now can I? I’ll take you, but you will be the critic.’

  ‘I can’t.’ The reality of what he had said brought her back to earth with a jolt. ‘I haven’t got anything to wear. I don’t know about London, but people at home dress up to go to the theatre. You’ll have to take someone else – I’m sure you have lots of lady friends.’

  ‘I’m not disputing that, Munday, but their talents lie elsewhere – you, on the other hand, show promise and I am giving you the chance to prove yourself.’

  ‘It still leaves me with the same problem,’ Rose said impatiently. ‘I only brought the minimum of luggage because Max promised me a whole new wardrobe. Maybe I was naïve, but there it is.’

  ‘I think I have the perfect solution. My sister, Cecilia, has dozens of elegant gowns, far too many, in my opinion. She’ll lend you something suitable.’ He stood up and reached for his coat. ‘Get your outdoor things on, Munday. We’re taking a cab to Tavistock Square.’

  ‘Is this where you live?’ Rose stepped out of the cab, looking up at the grand façade of the four-storey house with wrought-iron balconies on the first floor and tall windows interspersed with Ionic columns.

  ‘It’s my parents’ house,’ Eugene said, sprinting up the steps to the front door. He rapped on the knocker. ‘Cissie should be at home, although knowing my sister she’s probably still in bed.’

  ‘At this time of day?’

  ‘Cecilia loves parties that go on into the small hours.’ Eugene stepped over the threshold. ‘Come in, Rose. Don’t stand there dithering.’

  She eyed the footman warily as she entered the house, but he was staring stonily into the distance and he closed the door after her. Eugene shrugged off his coat and gave his hat and gloves to the servant who was standing to attention, arms outstretched like a human coatrack.

  ‘Giddings will take your things,’ Eugene said impatiently. ‘Come on, Munday, we haven’t got all day.’

  Rose took off her coat and handed it to Giddings. It might be her imagination but she sensed his disapproval, and she suspected that the servants would view her second-hand garments with contempt. But Eugene was striding across the black and white marble-tiled floor, heading for the graceful sweep of the staircase. She was inexplicably nervous and she shivered, despite the warmth from a fire blazing at one end of the entrance hall. Until now Eugene had been her boss and mentor, but this was his home and she realised that he came from a family where money seemed to be no object. As she mounted the stairs she had visions of being scrutinised by his wealthy parents, and if the footman looked askance at the girl from Bendigo, what would Mr and Mrs Sheldon think of her?

  Eugene opened one of the double doors at the top of the staircase. ‘Ah, you’re up and dressed, Cissie. That makes a change.’ He beckoned to Rose. ‘Come and meet my sister.’

  Rose entered a room that was even grander than the Dorincourts’ mansion in Bendigo. The crimson and gold upholstery of the ornately carved mahogany sofas and chairs glowed like hot coals in the cold light that filtered through the tall windows. The cream background of the vast carpet was adorned with an abundance of pink roses and white daisies, wreathed in green leaves. The warmth in the Sheldons’ drawing room was such that it might have been a summer’s day, and the effect was heightened by a roaring coal fire and the light from two gasoliers with glass shades shaped like waterlilies.

  ‘Of course I’m up. I’m not a lazybones like you.’ A young woman rose from the sofa nearest the fire. ‘Who is this, Eugene?’

  ‘Rose, ignore my sister’s bad manners.’ Eugene gave Rose a gentle push. ‘I want you to meet my sister, Cecilia.’

  Remembering what Sadie had drummed into her, Rose bobbed a curtsey. ‘How do you do?’

  ‘Cissie, this is my protégée, Rose Munday. She is learning to use the typewriting machine I purchased in America and I’m giving her a chance to prove that she has it in her to become a reporter.’

  Cecilia looked Rose up and down. ‘How do you do, Miss Munday? I must say, I’m impressed. I don’t suppose you realise how honoured you are.’

  ‘I don’t know what y
ou mean.’ Rose glanced at Eugene, who shrugged and went to stand with his back to the fire.

  ‘My brother is a typical man, Miss Munday. He thinks that we have nothing on our minds other than fashion and marriage, in that order.’

  ‘That’s not fair, Cissie. I never said that.’ Eugene gave Rose an apologetic smile. ‘Well, I might have thought that way once, but times have changed. I met several lady journalists in New York and I admired them greatly.’

  ‘So what makes Miss Munday a suitable candidate?’ Cecilia demanded. ‘I want to know.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll tell you her story one day, but that’s up to her. For now all I want is for you to lend her something suitable to wear to the opera this evening.’

  Cecilia turned to Rose with a curious look. ‘What’s this all about, Miss Munday? Because if you think that my brother is a good catch I can assure you that he’s the last person I would recommend as a prospective husband.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ Rose said angrily. ‘Such a thought never occurred to me.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a bit strong, even for you, Cissie.’ Eugene strolled over to a side table and selected a cut-glass decanter. ‘Would either of you like a drink?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘It looks to me as though you had enough last evening.’ Cecilia shook her finger at him. ‘You’re turning into a rake, Gene. What would Papa say?’

  ‘Father was in Cairo last time I heard from him, so he’s not here to judge me.’

  ‘Your father is in Egypt?’ Rose was suddenly alert. ‘Is he in the army?’

  Cecilia raised a delicate eyebrow. ‘Heavens, no! Papa is in the diplomatic service, and the last letter I had from Mama said that the consulate had been relocated to Alexandria.’

  ‘That’s the last place I’d want to visit at the moment.’ Eugene poured himself a generous tot of brandy and swallowed it in one gulp. ‘Anyway, that’s beside the point, Cissie. Are you going to help Munday, or not?’

  Cecilia shot him a scornful look. ‘How patronising you are, Gene. The poor girl has a name. Either address her as Miss Munday or Rose, but don’t treat her as if she were on the cricket pitch at your old school.’

  Rose looked from one to the other. She felt like a tennis ball, being batted to and fro between the brother and sister, each trying to score points off the other. ‘Really, it doesn’t matter,’ she said hastily. ‘You can find someone else to go to see Patience, Guvnor. I don’t want to cause a fuss.’

  ‘There, Cissie. Now see what you’ve done.’ Eugene refilled his glass and took a sip. ‘You’ve embarrassed Munday.’

  ‘The only embarrassing person in this room is you, Gene.’ Cecilia turned her to Rose with a conciliatory smile. ‘I’m sorry, Rose. We’re being very ill-mannered, and of course I’ll lend you a gown.’ She glanced at her brother. ‘On one condition, Gene.’

  He drained his drink and placed the glass back on the tray. ‘Go on. How much is this going to cost me?’

  ‘Another ticket to the opera. I’m dying to see Patience, and Rose needs a chaperone.’

  ‘Munday is a working woman,’ Eugene protested. ‘The stuffy rules of etiquette don’t apply.’

  ‘They do in the real world,’ Cecilia said firmly. ‘You live in the make-believe land of those who purport to tell us the truth, when half of the things you print have no bearing on reality whatsoever.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh Cissie.’

  Cecilia placed her arm around Rose’s shoulders. ‘Take no notice of him. We’ll go to my room and find you something to wear tonight, and I’ll choose my gown so that we don’t clash.’

  ‘My sister is a harpy,’ Eugene said, throwing up his hands. ‘Don’t listen to her if she says things about me, Rose.’

  ‘Shut up, Gene.’ Cecilia held her hand out to Rose. ‘Come with me. We’ll do very well without my brother’s assistance.’ She glided from the room and Rose hurried after her.

  Cecilia’s bedroom was spacious and elegantly furnished with a peach and gold colour scheme that created a feeling of everlasting sunshine. Cecilia ushered Rose into a dressing room lined with cupboards. The doors were faced with mirrors, creating a kaleidoscope effect, and Rose could see several versions of herself. She had to stifle a childish urge to pull faces, but Cecilia was in deadly earnest and she opened the first cupboard to reveal shelves packed with neatly folded garments. Another was crammed with ornate gowns hanging from brass hooks. Yet another revealed sets of drawers; some of them filled with lace-trimmed undergarments, while others were overflowing with gloves, scarves and stockings. There were open shelves filled with hats of every description, trimmed with flowers and feathers in rainbow hues. Rose was both dazzled and impressed, but also slightly bewildered.

  ‘As you can see, I love clothes,’ Cecilia said happily. ‘My maid takes care of everything, but you may have your pick, providing I approve.’

  Rose had never seen such a collection of garments belonging to one person – in fact, she had never been in a shop that was more comprehensively stocked. ‘Are you sure about this? I mean, you were pushed into it by your brother.’

  ‘Gene might try but he could never force me to do anything against my will. You have to treat him like your boss, but he’s just my brother. I’ll leave you to choose, try on anything you take a fancy to and come out and show me.’ Cecilia left Rose alone in the dressing room surrounded by finery that took her breath away. She was beginning to realise that the fashion in London differed from what was considered haute couture in Bendigo, and she began her search for something that was suitable, but not too elaborate.

  When she finally emerged wearing a pale-blue silk gown, with a modest neckline and a small bustle, Cecilia shook her head.

  ‘That’s an afternoon dress, Rose. You need something a little more dashing for the opera, and I think I know exactly which one would suit your glorious copper hair and milky complexion.’ Cecilia jumped to her feet and returned to the dressing room, reappearing moments later with a shimmering armful of gold silk brocade trimmed with delicate tulle roses. ‘Try this one on.’

  It was a command rather than an invitation and Rose retreated into the privacy of the dressing room and changed into Cecilia’s choice.

  ‘Oh, splendid.’ Cecilia clapped her hands when Rose re-emerged. ‘Take a look in the mirror and you’ll see that I was right.’

  Rose stepped in front of the cheval mirror, staring in astonishment at her own reflection, although to her eyes it was a stranger who gazed back at her. Cecilia came up behind her and dragged Rose’s unruly curls away from her face, piling them on top of her head so that they fell in a cascade, framing her face and elongating her neck.

  ‘What a transformation. I can’t wait to see Gene’s face when he sees you dressed up to the nines. That might make him treat you more like a colleague rather than an office boy.’

  Rose moved away, allowing her hair to fall back into place. ‘I am very junior at the newspaper, Miss Sheldon. The other employees don’t want to work with a female, and your brother has given me a chance to prove myself. I don’t mind if he calls me Munday. In fact I think it’s a good thing.’

  ‘Well, well, so you have some spirit after all, Rose. I was beginning to think that you were a doormat, but I can see that I was mistaken.’

  ‘Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I can’t wear this,’ Rose said desperately. ‘This gown must have cost a fortune and I’d feel terrible if it got marked or I caught my heel in the hem.’

  Cecilia stood back, frowning. ‘You and I are the same size and height. I wonder if my shoes would fit you, because you can’t wear those ugly boots tonight. They don’t go with that gown.’

  ‘You aren’t listening to me, Miss Sheldon. You’re just like your brother.’

  ‘I am not at all like Eugene, and don’t call me Miss Sheldon. I’m Cissie to my family and friends, and I want you to be my friend, Rose. I like you and I admire you for st
anding up to the beastly men in Gene’s office, and I see in you a kindred spirit. We’ll have no arguments about the gown. It doesn’t suit me anyway. In fact I don’t know why I bought it. Gold is your colour, not mine.’

  ‘You do have lovely dark hair and a beautiful complexion,’ Rose said, nodding. ‘You’re right to wear bright colours – they suit you.’

  ‘Yes, I know they do, and tonight I’ll wear my crimson shot silk. We’ll turn every head in the Savoy Theatre. I doubt if anyone will be looking at the stage when we’re there.’

  Rose was not so sure, but she found herself trying on shoes that were a surprisingly good fit, although ultimately it was Cecilia who made the final choice. Then, having listened intently to Rose’s account of her reasons for leaving home, Cecilia insisted on turning out a quantity of garments, including daywear, underwear and nightwear, all of which she insisted she had not worn for ages, and had no intention of wearing again. She threw in several pairs of shoes and boots, a velvet bonnet and a warm mantle, which she said was last year’s fashion and fit only for the missionary barrel at the local church. She became so enthusiastic that Rose had to put a stop to her burst of generosity, gently but firmly.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ Cecilia said sulkily. ‘But I rarely do anything for anyone else, and you’ve probably saved my eternal soul from hellfire.’

  ‘I think you have a lot of living ahead of you, Cissie,’ Rose said, laughing. ‘I don’t think hellfire is waiting for you just yet.’

  ‘You can laugh, Rose. But I’m serious. I was spoiled by my parents and shamelessly overindulged. Just look around you.’ Cecilia encompassed the room with a wave of her hands. ‘Of course, Papa doesn’t earn a great deal working for the Foreign Office, but Mama inherited a fortune when my grandfather died a few years ago.’