The Constant Heart by Dilly Court Page B

slipped it over her head, covering her shameless nakedness. She climbed into bed and lay down, pulling the coverlet up to her chin. She closed her eyes, but she knew then that she would not sleep. She could still hear the strains of the orchestra playing a waltz, then a polka, a schottische and a quadrille. She was floating in his arms and they were the only two people on the crystal platform – if only she knew his name. The music played on and on, they were whirling round and round – he was repeating her name over and over again. He was shaking her by the shoulder – she opened her eyes and found herself staring up into Bertha's wrinkled face.
     
'Wake up, sleepyhead. Half the morning has gone already,' Bertha said, chuckling. 'My goodness, you must have had a good time at the Gostellows' last night. I never heard you come in.'
     
Rosina raised herself up on her elbow and yawned. 'Walter brought me home.'
     
'I should hope so. I wouldn't have let you go if he hadn't offered to bring you home safely.' Bertha grunted as she bent down to retrieve Rosina's discarded clothing. 'You should pick up your own things, miss. Not leave it to poor old Bertha. Me back's killing me this morning.'
     
Rosina swung her legs over the side of the bed. 'I'll do it. I was tired. I'm sorry, Bebe.'
     
'Well, lambkin, you don't get asked out to dinner at a rich man's house very often. I suppose I shouldn't grumble. Come downstairs and have your breakfast and you can tell me all about it. I want to know every detail.' Bertha waddled to the doorway. 'Your papa will be so pleased that young Gostellow is taking such an interest in you. I know it's looking ahead, but it would be a fine match.'
     
'Don't get your hopes up. I think Harry was more interested in Sukey than in me.'
     
'Then the man is a fool. But I think you're being too modest. Who would give that whey-faced girl a second glance when they could choose my girl, with her raven hair and violet-blue eyes?'
     
Rosina hurried to the washstand and poured cold water into the bowl. 'That's soft sawder and you know it, Bebe. Sukey is twice as pretty as me and as lively as a cricket. Gentlemen adore her and I wouldn't be at all surprised if Harry wasn't knocking on her door this very minute.'
     
'Well, that's odd, ain't it? Because young Mr Gostellow has been sitting in my kitchen for the past ten minutes waiting for you, missy.' Bertha gave a throaty chuckle. 'You hurry up and get dressed and come downstairs. He don't want to chat to an old woman like me.' She winked at Rosina as she left the room and the stairs creaked beneath her heavy tread.
     
'Bother, bother, bother!' Rosina dashed cold water on her face and rubbed it with a towel until her skin glowed with colour. She dressed hastily, her fingers fumbling with laces and buttons, and she prayed silently that Harry would not say anything to make Bertha suspicious. Having brushed her long hair, tugging at the tangles until it hung about her shoulders like a dark cape, she twisted it into a heavy knot at the nape of her neck and secured it in a snood. Smoothing back the stray tendrils that curled around her forehead, she took a quick look in the mirror, and, satisfied that at least she looked reasonably presentable, she went downstairs to the kitchen.
     
Harry leapt up from his seat by the range. 'Good morning, Miss Rosina. How splendid you look this morning.'
     
'She missed out on her beauty sleep because of you, young man,' Bertha said severely. 'It were good of your parents to entertain her and Miss Barnum, but don't make a habit of it. Late nights are bad for young girls.'
     
Rosina cast her eyes up to heaven. 'Thank you, Bebe. I'm sure Harry doesn't want to hear all that.'
     
Harry took her hand and raised it to his lips. 'On the contrary, I agree entirely with Miss Spinks. Your welfare should always come first with me.'
     
'There, what did I say?' Bertha lifted the singing kettle from the hob. 'Wasn't I right,