The Mistletoe Seller. Dilly Court

      He stared at her with a puzzled frown. ‘What the devil would I want with mistletoe? It’s pagan nonsense.’

      Angel glanced nervously over her shoulder as two of the boys skidded to a halt outside the great oak door.

      ‘I see.’ The gentleman raised the whip and brought it down with an expert flick of his wrist. The crack of the leather thong echoed off the walls like a pistol shot. ‘Brave fellows, aren’t you? Chasing a little girl for sport. Get out of here or the next time I’ll lop your ears off.’ He raised the whip again and the boys fled. He slammed the door and bolted it.

      Angel experienced a moment of sheer panic. The man with the whip was even more frightening than the street Arabs. ‘I – I should go, sir.’

      He turned to give her a searching look. ‘Who are you, child? You look like a ragamuffin but your manner of speech is that of a young lady.’

      Angel backed towards the door. ‘I’m a flower girl, sir. I was selling mistletoe to pay for a night’s lodging for me and my friend, Dolly, and those boys stole my purse.’ She bit back tears of fear and exhaustion, and one of the greyhounds licked her hand, its liquid brown eyes brimming with empathy, as if it too knew of hardship and cruelty.

      ‘It seems that Juno has taken to you, girl. What’s your name?’

      Her teeth were chattering so much that she could hardly speak. ‘Angel Winter, sir.’

      A hint of a smile flickered across his face. ‘An angel has landed in our midst, dogs. What shall we do with her?’ His expression changed. ‘You must go home, Angel Winter. Where do you live?’

      ‘M-Mother J-Jolly’s dosshouse, sir. If you will give me sixpence for the mistletoe I can pay for one night’s lodging for me and Dolly. She’s very sick, sir. I fear she might die.’

      ‘What the hell is a child such as yourself doing in a place like that?’ He wrapped the red blanket around her shoulders. ‘You’d better come indoors while I decide what to do with you.’

      The thick woollen cloth was still warm from contact with his body and it smelled of bay rum and cigars, bringing back memories of Uncle Joseph and her old home.

      ‘Thank you, sir, but I really must return to Monmouth Street.’

      ‘Monmouth Street? We’ll see about that. Come, dogs.’ He strode across the snow-covered courtyard and thrust the door open. ‘Don’t dawdle, child. Follow me.’ He stepped inside. ‘Baines, where are you? Come here, man.’

      Juno nudged Angel’s hand with her velvety head and the two dogs followed their master into the house. Angel hesitated, but large flakes of snow were spiralling to the ground, and the warmth of the blanket was too comforting to surrender lightly. Her options were limited and surely someone who was kind to animals could not be all bad? She plucked up the courage to go inside.

      The entrance hall was dark and cool, with a flagstone floor, oak wainscoting and a beamed ceiling. The gloomy atmosphere was far from welcoming, and Angel was nervous. She came to a halt.

      ‘Who are you, sir?’

      ‘What is that to do with you, child?’ He laid the whip on the carved top of an oak chest and took off his hat. His hair was dark and straight and it came to his shoulders, giving him the look of a tragic poet, but his military bearing and weathered features were those of a man used to command.

      ‘What’s up, Colonel?’ A man who appeared suddenly from the depths of the house came towards them wiping his large bony hands on a hessian apron covered with chicken feathers. ‘I was just plucking a nice fat capon when you called, sir.’

      ‘Take this child to the kitchen, Baines. Give her something to eat while I decide what to do with her.’

      Baines glared at Angel beneath shaggy sandy eyebrows. ‘Who have we here, then, sir?’

      ‘Her name, it seems, is Angel Winter and she was set upon by a band of youths who stole her purse.’

      ‘I’d send her home, sir. Not wanting to tell you what to do, as it were, but nippers this age are nothing but lies and trouble.’

      ‘I’m not a liar,’ Angel protested. ‘I wanted to go, but he wouldn’t let me.’

      ‘Watch your tongue, nipper. That is Colonel Sir Adolphus Grantley you’re speaking of, and if he says you’re to stay here a while, then that’s what you’ll do. Come with me, and none of your lip.’

      ‘Take Thor and Juno with you, Baines. I’ll be in my study.’ Sir Adolphus walked away, leaving Angel with the disapproving Baines and the greyhounds for company.

      Baines ambled off with a decided limp and the dogs followed him, leaving Angel little alternative other than to follow him too. The long passages were poorly lit and smelled damp and musty, but Angel was past worrying about such details. All she could think of was Dolly and the desperate need of a shilling to pay Mother Jolly for two nights’ lodgings. She was too cold and exhausted to worry about her empty belly, but when she walked into a kitchen the aroma of something savoury bubbling away on the range made her stomach rumble. Juno and Thor went to lie together on a pile of blankets in the inglenook, and Baines motioned Angel to take a seat at the pine table in the centre of the room. She sank down on the nearest chair. Outside the window feathery snowflakes clung briefly to the diamond-shaped panes and then melted and trickled down the glass like tears.

      ‘I have to go soon,’ Angel said firmly. ‘It’s very kind of Sir Adolphus to invite me in, but the boys will have gone now, and I need to get back to the lodging house. My friend Dolly’s life depends on me bringing home the money to pay Mother Jolly. You must understand that, Mr Baines.’

      ‘Sergeant Baines to you, girl.’ Baines filled a bowl with soup thickened with lentils and floury dumplings. ‘Here, get that down you. I seen healthier-looking corpses than you.’

      Angel did not argue. She spooned the herb-flavoured potage into her mouth, burning her tongue in the process, but it tasted good and she felt the warmth of it seeping through her veins, bringing life back to her chilled body.

      Baines resumed his position by the back door, sitting on a stool as he finished plucking the chicken. ‘There’s more in the pot, if you’re still hungry,’ he said grinning. ‘You polished that off quicker than old Thor, and he’s a fast eater.’

      ‘It was very tasty. Thank you.’

      He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. ‘How has a well-spoken little miss like you landed up in such a fix?’

      ‘It’s a long story,’ Angel said wearily. ‘I’m very grateful for the food and the chance to get warm, but please let me go, Sergeant Baines.’ She fingered the ring hanging round her neck on Aunt Cordelia’s gold chain. Until now she had resisted the temptation to pawn it, knowing that she would never be able to redeem the only thing that connected her to her mother, but Dolly’s life hung in the balance, and there was no choice.

      ‘Why the hurry? The master won’t let you go unless he thinks you’ll be safe. He’s like that.’

      ‘I have to get to the pawnshop before it closes. If I can’t pay Mother Jolly we’ll be thrown out on the street, and I’m in desperate need of a pair of boots.’

      Baines tossed the last of the feathers out onto the snow and closed the door. ‘Come with me, nipper. You’ll have to tell that to the Colonel. He’s a good man.’

      Sir Adolphus was standing with his back to the fire in the book-lined study. ‘I thought I told you to keep her in the kitchen, Baines.’

      ‘She needs to get to a pawnshop, Colonel. I’d be inclined to ask her where she got a valuable ring from. The police might be interested in this young lady.’

      ‘Leave us, Baines. Bring me coffee and some hot milk for our fallen angel.’

      Baines shuffled from the room with a grunt, closing the door behind