The Mistletoe Seller. Dilly Court

with it unless I was desperate, which I am. Please let me go, sir. I fear for my friend’s life if she doesn’t get some food inside her and some medicine.’

      He sat down in a leather wing-back chair by the fire. ‘Are you expecting me to believe such a cock-and-bull tale?’

      ‘I swear it’s the truth.’ Angel tucked the ring back inside her torn blouse. ‘It’s all I have of my mother’s, Colonel. I’ve never stolen anything in my life.’

      He was silent for a moment, staring at her with an unreadable expression. ‘For some reason I believe you, girl.’ He held out his hand. ‘Let me see the ring, if you please.’

      Reluctantly Angel unhooked the chain and laid the ring on his palm. He examined it, holding it up to the firelight with a critical eye. ‘I’m no expert, but I’d say these are fine stones – worth quite a lot of money, I should imagine. Fetch me the magnifying glass off my desk. I’d like to take a closer look.’

      Angel did as he asked and he studied the ring, turning it round in his fingers until Angel could have screamed with frustration.

      He looked up. ‘Did you know there are initials engraved on the inner edge of the ring?’

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘And you don’t know who your parents were?’

      ‘No, sir. I was found in Angel Court, Whitechapel on Christmas Eve twelve years ago. I was just a few weeks old. They named me Angel Winter.’

      ‘An apt name, indeed. I was going to send you back to the lodging house with enough money to keep you and your sick friend for a week or two, but I’ve changed my mind. You obviously came from a good family, Angel Winter. I’m intrigued, and that doesn’t happen very often.’

      ‘What are the markings, sir?’ Angel asked eagerly. Any link with her real mother would be wonderful.

      ‘J E M,’ he said, peering through the magnifying glass. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’

      ‘No, sir. I know nothing of my true identity.’

      ‘A mystery, indeed. However, I can’t allow you to pawn the only thing that connects you to your real mother, and a pawnbroker would give you just a fraction of its worth.’

      ‘But, sir, I’ve already—’

      He held up his hand. ‘You’ve told me several times of your desperate need to pay this blood-sucking woman her dues.’ Sir Adolphus leaned back in his chair, eyeing Angel with a speculative gaze. ‘What am I going to do with you, Angel Winter?’

      ‘Nothing, sir. Please let me go. I don’t want to cause you any bother, and the soup was delicious. I feel better already.’

      ‘Just look at you, child. Those rags won’t protect you from the cold and you certainly can’t go barefoot in this weather.’ He was silent for a moment, as if considering what course of action to take. ‘Are you literate, Angel?’

      ‘Yes, sir. Aunt Cordelia was very particular about my education. I had a governess until I was eleven.’

      ‘And where is this aunt of yours now?’

      ‘I don’t know, sir. Mr Galloway, her solicitor, arranged for her to stay with his sister, a Mrs Adams who lives in Maddox Street. I went there because I wanted to tell Aunt Cordelia that Mr Galloway had gone back on his word, but she had left for the country with Mrs Adams, and the maid wouldn’t tell me where. I’ve been back several times since then, but there was no one at home, not even a servant.’

      ‘And where is this man Galloway now?’

      Angel shuddered. ‘I don’t know, sir. He left me in the Bear Street workhouse, but I escaped and ran away. He’s a bad man.’

      ‘I see. Perhaps I ought to pay a visit to this Mr Galloway.’

      ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that, sir.’

      ‘You are not asking me, Angel. I dislike cheats and liars, and you have been badly done by.’ He leaned over to tug at a bell pull. ‘We will visit this Mother Jolly, and rescue your young friend. After that I think I might have a solution that would benefit us all.’ He looked up as the door opened to admit Baines.

      ‘Take Angel to Miss Susannah’s room. I think she might find some more suitable clothing there, and something to put on her feet.’ He fixed Angel with a piercing stare. ‘My niece stays here sometimes, although she lives in my country house. Find yourself something to wear and be quick about it. We’ll go to your lodging house directly.’

      Angel was too stunned and surprised to argue. She followed Baines, who led her across the entrance hall and up the wide staircase to the upper floor. The light was fading fast despite the reflection of the snow outside, and the dark wood panelling and yellowed ceilings added to the sombre atmosphere. Susannah’s room was at the far end of the landing. Baines opened the door and stood aside. ‘There you are, miss. I dunno if you’ll find anything to suit, but take what you want. Miss Susannah won’t be needing any of the things you’ll find in the clothes press.’

      ‘Why not?’ Angel demanded anxiously. ‘Is she dead?’

      ‘Not that I know of. She doesn’t come here often these days and I doubt if any of the duds you’ll find would fit her now. Can you find your own way back to the master’s study?’

      ‘I think so.’

      ‘If not I’ll send the dogs to find you.’ Baines grinned and saluted as he closed the door, leaving Angel alone in the room that was dominated by a large four-poster bed. Heavy mahogany furniture slumbered in the shadows like sleeping giants and, to Angel’s imaginative mind, there was a lingering feeling of sadness in the still air. Dust lay like fuzzy blankets on all the surfaces and a faint waft of lavender seemed to float past her like a spirit of a long-departed lady of the house. Angel suppressed a shiver and concentrated on the task in hand.

      The clothes press was packed with garments ranging in size from those that were suitable for a five-year-old to others that were on the large side for Angel, but were infinitely better than the rags she was wearing. She found a plain grey merino dress with a slightly yellow white collar and cuffs, a cotton shift and some woollen stockings. In a cupboard she discovered a selection of shoes, again in all sizes, and several pairs of boots that were hardly worn. Miss Susannah must have led a very sheltered existence and had never had to walk far. Angel discarded her rags and dressed herself in the new garments. The smell of camphor clung to them, but at least it had prevented the moths from feasting on the expensive cloth. She pulled on the stockings, revelling in their warmth, and slipped her feet into the boots, which fitted as if they had been made for her. Despite her hurry, she scraped a layer of dust off the cheval mirror and examined her reflection with a satisfied smile. A feeling of optimism surged through her as she tidied everything away and went downstairs to find Sir Adolphus. Why he had decided to help her was a mystery, but even if he changed his mind, as adults often did, she was warmly dressed, even if the cherry-red velvet cape she had selected made her feel like Little Red Riding Hood.

      ‘Good grief!’ Sir Adolphus stared at Angel, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘What a transformation from crushed rose petal to young lady.’

      ‘I’m glad you find my appearance amusing, sir.’

      He rose to his feet. ‘I’m not laughing at you, silly girl. My instincts were correct, it seems. Underneath those rags there lurked a presentable young person. I think Susannah might warm to you, Angel Winter. You might very well be the answer to my prayers.’

      ‘I don’t understand, sir.’

      ‘No, of course you don’t, but you will.’ Once again he tugged at the bell pull and Baines appeared so quickly that Angel suspected he had been loitering outside the door.

      ‘What can I do for you, Colonel?’

      ‘Find me a cab, Baines. We’re going out.’