The Mistletoe Seller. Dilly Court

out was a puzzle, but then they always seemed to know things before she did. ‘There must be something we could sell to raise money. Perhaps we could find a smaller house to rent.’

      ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel. Everything has to go – the furniture, my jewellery, the silver – all the things I treasure. The household bills haven’t been paid for months and if I can’t raise the money the bailiffs will come in and take everything. I can’t bear the disgrace.’

      ‘Isn’t there anyone who could help us?’ Angela asked in desperation. ‘Do you know anyone who could lend you some money to keep us going for a while?’

      Cordelia raised her head, gazing at Angel with tears sparkling on the tips of her dark lashes. ‘There is one person who has offered to help, but I don’t think I can bring myself to accept his offer.’

      ‘Who is it, Aunt? What does he want in return for a loan?’

      ‘Geoffrey asked me to marry him,’ Cordelia said dully. ‘I’ve known him for years. He’s been Joseph’s solicitor for as long as I can remember, and he used to dine here quite often, but I can’t marry a man I don’t love, even for the sake of keeping a roof over our heads.’

      ‘He seems like a nice man,’ Angel said slowly. ‘But if you don’t like him …’

      ‘I do like him, darling. I’ve always liked him, but I loved Joseph.’ Cordelia mopped her eyes with her sodden hanky. ‘I know he was domineering and sometimes impatient, but ours was a love match and I miss him terribly. Anyway, I’m in mourning, and I will be for a year or maybe two.’

      ‘You mustn’t give it a second thought.’ Angel leaned over the desk to grasp her aunt’s hand. ‘We’ll manage without him, Aunt Cordelia. I’ll find work and we’ll look for somewhere else to live. You won’t have to marry a man you don’t love. I’ll look after you now.’

      ‘My darling, you’re just a child. I wouldn’t think of placing such responsibility on your young shoulders. But you’re right, we will survive somehow, and the first thing I will do is take my jewellery to the pawnbroker. I won’t allow the bailiffs to take it.’

      ‘There is my ring, too,’ Angel said slowly. The thought of parting with the one thing that might have belonged to her mother was agonising, but she could not allow her aunt to make all the sacrifices.

      ‘No, Angel. That is yours and you must keep it always.’ Cordelia frowned, staring down at the jewels on her left hand. ‘I will part with everything other than my wedding ring. Joseph placed that on my finger when I was just twenty, and it will remain there until the day I die.’

      Angel knew that at any moment her aunt would burst into tears and that would only make matters worse. She jumped to her feet. ‘There must be other things we can sell, Aunt Cordelia.’

      ‘The bailiffs will be here this afternoon. We must act quickly if we’re to salvage anything, and even then I dare say it’s against the law, but at this moment I don’t care.’

      ‘You must stay here,’ Angel said firmly. ‘I’ll go to the pawnshop with Lil. It would be a brave man who tried to get the better of her.’

      ‘Perhaps you’re right, my darling. I’m afraid I would give in too easily.’ Cordelia rose from the chair, patting the leather arm rests as if saying farewell to an old friend. ‘I have the onerous duty of informing the servants that they will have to find employment elsewhere, but first I’ll fetch my jewellery box. I have a fine gold chain, which you must keep. Thread it through your mama’s ring and hang it around your neck.’

      Angel swallowed hard. ‘Thank you, Aunt Cordelia. I’ll treasure it always.’

      Angel and Lil returned from their trip to the pawnbroker’s in White’s Row to find the bailiffs already at work. The dining-room table was being hefted onto a cart, together with the chairs, and the sideboard stood on the pavement waiting to be treated with equal lack of care. Angel would have run forward to snatch the portrait of her aunt as a young bride from the hands of a burly carter, but Lil restrained her.

      ‘Just go indoors, love,’ she said in a low voice that sounded more like a growl. ‘You can’t stop ’em, and they might start asking questions.’

      Angel realised that her weighty reticule might cause comment and she tucked it under her arm as she marched up the steps to the front door. It was wide open and Gilly was ineffectually flapping her apron at a porter who was carrying a tea chest filled with Cordelia’s Crown Derby dinner service.

      ‘Robbers,’ Gilly cried hoarsely. ‘That belongs to the mistress.’

      ‘Not no more, my duck.’ The man winked at her and continued on his way. A second cart had drawn up outside and a second bailiff pushed past Angel as he entered the house.

      Gilly screamed, ‘They’ll have the clothes off our backs next, miss.’

      ‘No, they won’t. You’ll be quite safe below stairs. We have to leave them to do their work.’ Angel pointed the distraught maid in the direction of the baize door. ‘Stay in the kitchen with Cook.’

      ‘I can’t, miss. Cook done a bunk and Miss Nixon went last night. I dunno how to cook dinner, and that’s a fact.’

      Lil grabbed Gilly by the arm. ‘Do as Miss Angel says, you halfwit. There’s nothing to be done up here.’

      ‘What shall I do, Lil? I ain’t got no money, and me dad will skin me alive if I goes home.’

      ‘Just wait in the kitchen,’ Lil said with a surprising show of patience. ‘I’ll be down in a minute and we’ll decide what’s to be done.’ She gave Gilly a shove and the girl stumbled off in the direction of the back stairs.

      Angel sidestepped two porters. ‘You’d best go after her, Lil. Goodness knows what she’ll do left on her own in the kitchen. She’ll probably burn the house down.’

      ‘She’s daft enough,’ Lil said grimly. ‘Leave her to me.’ She strode off with a determined set to her jaw.

      Angel was about to go in search of her aunt when she heard someone call her name. Her heart sank as she recognised the voice and she turned slowly to see the Reverend John Hardisty and his wife standing in the doorway.

      ‘Angel, my dear child, what a sorry state of affairs, to be sure.’

      ‘Poor Cordelia, she must be distraught,’ Letitia said with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

      ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Angel answered meekly, but she was not fooled by Mrs Hardisty’s words of sympathy. She suspected that Letitia harboured some kind of grudge against her aunt, although it was hard to imagine Aunt Cordelia merited such ill feeling. Whatever the cause – and Letitia Hardisty always managed to appear conciliatory and pleasant – Angel had often felt an undercurrent and on this particular day it was more obvious than ever.

      ‘Is there anything we can do?’ John Hardisty spoke with genuine concern.

      ‘I don’t think so, sir,’ Angel said hastily. ‘I think my aunt is resting. This has all come as a terrible shock.’

      ‘Is it true that you are losing everything?’ He looked round, shaking his head. ‘If so, where will you go?’

      ‘I dare say Cordelia has relatives who will take her in. Although I wouldn’t relish such a change after being mistress of my own house for so many years.’ Letitia pursed her lips and there was a malicious gleam in her dark eyes. ‘Poor thing,’ she added, clutching her husband’s arm. ‘We should leave, John. I fear we are intruding.’

      He cleared his throat noisily as if about to embark on a sermon. ‘If there is any way I can be of assistance, Angel, please ask your aunt to contact me.’

      Letitia dragged him towards the door, which was propped open to allow the bailiff’s men easy access. ‘A penniless widow is a pitiable object in the eyes of society. My condolences