The Button Box. Dilly Court

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      ‘She must have been fond of you or she wouldn’t have left you everything she had.’

      ‘I know and I still find it hard to believe.’ Clara tucked Jane’s small hand into the crook of her arm. ‘The least I could do was to give her the first-class funeral, although it’s sad to think that we’re the only ones who came to mourn her.’

      Jane tugged at her arm. ‘Look over there. Do you know that fellow? He seems to be waving to us.’

      Clara turned to see a young man slipping and sliding on the hard-packed snow as he hurried towards them. He was clutching a bunch of wilting Christmas roses in one hand and waving frantically with the other. He skidded to a halt, sending a powdering of snow onto the coffin. ‘I am too late. I was afraid I would be.’ He hesitated, peering at Clara over the top of his steel-rimmed spectacles. ‘I say, I’m dashed sorry to intrude. I’m not even sure if I’ve got the right funeral.’

      Clara eyed him curiously. His clothes were well-cut, but his shirt cuffs were slightly frayed and his black jacket was unbuttoned to reveal a scarlet-and-gold brocade waistcoat, which was in stark contrast to his otherwise sober appearance. ‘This is Miss Silver’s grave. Who are you looking for, sir?’

      ‘Then I am in the right place.’ He doffed his top hat, revealing a wild mop of auburn curls tinted with chestnut in the feeble rays of the sun. ‘I’m her nephew, Nathaniel Silver. How do you do?’

      ‘How do you do?’ Clara replied automatically. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know Miss Silver had any living relatives. I really would have—’

      He held up his hand, cutting her short. ‘A family feud, ma’am. Aunt Rebecca and my late mother fell out long ago. A bitter quarrel over a gentleman, so I believe. I haven’t seen my aunt since I was a child, but I read the announcement of her demise in The Times, and I don’t know quite why, but I felt I had to come here today.’

      ‘He’s after the shop,’ Jane whispered. ‘Don’t speak to him, Clara.’

      Nathaniel blinked and took a step backwards. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss, er – I didn’t catch your name.’

      ‘That’s because I didn’t tell you,’ Jane said sharply. ‘You’ve left it a bit late to show concern for your aunt.’

      Clara was quick to see the look of embarrassment cross Nathaniel’s mobile features, followed by one of shame. ‘It’s none of our business, Jane.’ She held her hand out to him. ‘I’m Clara Carter and this is my sister Jane. I used to work in Miss Silver’s drapery in Drury Lane.’

      Nathaniel grasped her hand and shook it. ‘I didn’t know she had a shop. No one spoke of her at home.’

      ‘It’s very cold,’ Clara said, glancing anxiously at Jane, whose pinched features were turning blue. ‘We have to catch the train back to London.’

      ‘There’s little point remaining here now.’ Nathaniel dropped the drooping flowers onto the coffin. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Rebecca. I should have tried to find you after Mama died.’ He shot a sideways glance at Clara. ‘I don’t suppose she can hear me.’

      ‘Who knows?’ Clara managed a smile even though her lips were stiff with cold. ‘Come along, Jane. Let’s go before we freeze to death.’

      Nathaniel proffered his arm to Jane. ‘I seem to have difficulty keeping upright on the icy surface. Would you care to assist me, Miss Jane?’

      Clara held her breath. Jane was acutely conscious of the leg irons she was forced to wear, and for a moment it looked as though she was going to react angrily, but then, to Clara’s surprise, her sister subsided into a fit of giggles. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you, Mr Silver.’ She handed him her crutch and allowed him to take her arm.

      Holding on to each other in an attempt to remain upright, they negotiated the frozen paths leading to the place where carriages waited to take mourners to Brookwood station. Nathaniel suggested they share the cab and it would have been churlish to refuse, although Clara was feeling acutely uncomfortable in his company. Nathaniel Silver seemed like a nice young man, but he could challenge his aunt’s will if he so chose; she could see her bright future vanishing before it had even begun.

      It was a short ride to the station and Nathaniel insisted on paying the cabby, which only added to Clara’s embarrassment. ‘This is where we must say goodbye,’ she said as the train came to a halt with a grinding of the brakes and a loud burst of steam.

      ‘I’m going to London too.’ Nathaniel opened the carriage door and helped Jane board the train in such a casual way that she did not protest her independence. He proffered his hand to Clara and waited until she was safely settled before climbing in after them. He placed his hat on the luggage rack and sat down.

      Clara felt the need to make conversation. ‘Do you live in London, Mr Silver?’

      ‘I have a room in Great Queen Street.’

      ‘And how do you make your living?’ Jane asked eagerly.

      ‘I don’t think that’s any of our business.’ Clara turned her head, hiding her embarrassment by gazing out of the window. It was bad enough having to travel to town with Miss Silver’s long-lost nephew without Jane making things more difficult by asking personal questions.

      ‘I’m a musician,’ Nathaniel said easily. ‘I play the violin.’

      ‘Are you in an orchestra?’ Jane nudged her sister. ‘Did you hear that, Clara? Isn’t it exciting?’

      Clara shot a covert glance at Nathaniel. ‘Yes, very.’

      ‘I’m a classical violinist, but at present I’m working on a composition of my own.’

      ‘Does that mean you don’t perform in public?’ Jane asked. ‘What a pity. I was hoping we could hear you play. How do you live if you have no work?’

      ‘Hush, Jane,’ Clara said, frowning. ‘You don’t ask questions like that.’

      ‘Why not? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Pa is always looking for work.’

      ‘I’m sure that Mr Silver is not interested in our problems.’ Clara glanced at Nathaniel and was relieved to find that he seemed to be enjoying her younger sister’s naïve comments.

      ‘I have a private income, Miss Jane, and if I get short of funds I take my violin out on to the streets, and if people like what I play they put money in my hat.’

      ‘What a good idea.’ Jane clapped her hands. ‘I wish I could do something like that, but I cannot play an instrument, although I do have quite a good singing voice.’

      ‘It’s not a comfortable way to earn a living in weather like this,’ Nathaniel said, chuckling.

      Clara was consumed with guilt. Here was a decent young man, a close relative of Miss Silver’s, who should have inherited her property and yet it had all been left to her, a humble draper’s assistant. She cleared her throat. ‘Your aunt left the shop to me, and a small legacy. I didn’t know that she had family living or I would have tried harder to trace her heirs.’

      ‘You weren’t СКАЧАТЬ