Death at St. James's Palace (6 page)

He withdrew one from an inner pocket and she read it slowly, then raised her pretty wisteria-coloured eyes to his face.

“Mr. Rawlings, there is one thing I have to say to you.”

“And what is that?”

“I cannot, indeed I will not, reveal to you the identity of my mother. She is quite famous in her way and I would do her great damage if I were to tell anyone, anyone at all, who she is. So please accept that and ask no further questions about her.”

Twitching with curiosity, the Apothecary nodded.

“That understood. I’ll tell you my tale.” Lucinda drew breath, then said in a small, sad voice, “I was born to her when she was very young and I was put out to a family to be raised from babyhood. Then her circumstances changed and she gave birth to another child, this time a boy, my half- brother.”

“Was he also put out to be reared?”

Lucinda paused, then said, “Yes, after a while.”

“Were you both bastards?”

She shook her head violently. “I can’t and won’t say. You must draw your own conclusions.”

John looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. It was wrong of me. Am I forgiven?”

She drew her youthful dignity round her, a heart- wrenching sight. “Yes, I forgive you. Anyway, my brother was sent to school when he was eight but shortly after that he got ill. My mother particularly wanted me to look after him, he was so very fragile. Anyway, Brompton Park only took boys, so it was then that she got the idea of disguising me. I was very small at that time. It was quite clever, don’t you think?”

She said this with an air almost of pride and John felt he could weep that any mother should so betray her offspring.

He cleared his throat. “You speak of your brother in the past tense. Is he dead?”

“No. I meant he was frail at that time.”

“And now?”

Once more she shook her head and small bright curls flew around. “He’s a little better these days, I suppose. It’s hard to say.”

“But now you have decided to leave him.”

“He is twelve and has other friends - and I cannot stand the strain of it any longer.”

“Can I deal honestly with you?” asked John. “As a doctor would his patient?”

“Ye - es,” she answered uncertainly.

“I would hazard a guess that a boy, or boys, has discovered that you are a girl and wants to get into your bed.”

The tears started once more and she nodded dumbly. “It has already happened. He came to me silently in the night. It was so painful, so violent, but I did not dare call out. I could not bear it to take place again. That’s why I’m running away.”

“By God,” said the Apothecary, jumping to his feet. “Your school has much to answer for. The principal must have seen what we can all see. He should be publicly shamed - and so he shall be.”

“Oh no,” said Lucinda, suddenly pale with fear. “It would all be so dreadful. The boy will say I was willing, he’s just the wretched sort that would. And my poor brother might be shocked to death. As for my mother ...” Her voice trailed away.

Resisting the comment that Lucinda’s parent should have more on her conscience than even the headmaster, John sat silently, wondering what he should do next. The unwritten rule for anyone who discovered a runaway was to take them back to their place of education and let those in authority sort the matter out, dealing with the miscreant as they saw fit. But this terrible story, provided it were true, was something entirely different. Wishing that Sir Gabriel were present to advise him, the Apothecary stared into space.

Lucinda broke the moment. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I find it hard to credit that any mother could abandon her daughter to such a fate, yes.”

Again came that odd note of pride. “Mama has had a great deal to put up with. She did what she thought was best.”

It was impossible to argue with such blind faith and John simply gazed into the fire. Finally he said, “Were you on your way to see her? Does she really live in Soho?”

Lucinda looked a little ashamed. “No, that was a lie. I had thought to get work as a maidservant in some house. To earn my keep and have a roof over my head.”

The Apothecary shuddered, knowing what the poor creature did not. That every stagecoach was met by harpies from the whorehouses, their purpose to pick up pretty and innocent young girls from the country and take them to work in the brothels. Lucinda, with her bright hair and lovely eyes, would be a target from the minute she set her foot upon the carriage step.

He turned to her, a note of appeal in his voice. “Lucinda, I beg you to let me call upon your mother. She must be told what is happening.”

“No she must
not,”
the girl answered vehemently. “She has made a new life for herself. I will not have it ruined.”

“You are very loyal.” He did not add ‘in view of what you have had to bear.’

Lucinda made no comment but instead said, “So you see that it would be best for me to head for London and make my own way in the world.”

John shook his head fiercely. “No that you must not do. The city is riven with vice and viciousness, a trap into which any young girl might fall. Let me offer you instead a post as maid to my wife. Her own maid came with her after her marriage and a second girl has been taken on. But now that Emilia is expecting a child, another pair of hands would come in useful.”

“But I could not live in Kensington, Sir. I might be seen and forcibly dragged school.”

“Our home is actually in Nassau Street in Soho. And that is where I am going now. Do you trust me enough to accompany me?”

The small face seemed to shrink before his eyes and all the colour drained out of it. “My life has not been filled with good fortune but perhaps that is changing. I must trust somebody, sometime. Mr. Rawlings, I will come with you,” Lucinda said.

He nodded but said nothing, making a silent vow that those responsible for the poor child’s predicament would one day be called to answer for it.

It was very late when he walked into his shop, after noon in fact, but the place was fairly full, a strong female element being present, no doubt attracted by the pale, dramatic looks of John’s apprentice, Nicholas. As he had grown older, so had the young man’s slightly melancholy air been enhanced. And this, much to his Master’s astonishment, had caused the ladies to clamour after him, presumably wanting to mother him as well as get him into their beds. Apprentices, of course, were forbidden from fornication but John had long ago turned a blind eye to this regulation. Nicholas was older than most, twenty-four by now, and to enforce such a ruling would have been ridiculous. He looked up as John came in, his blue black hair, tied in a queue by a tidy ribbon, enhancing his exotic appearance.

“Master, I was expecting you early,” he said.

“I was waylaid by a most extraordinary event”. And drawing his apprentice into the compounding room during a temporary lull in custom, John told Nicholas the whole pathetic story.

“And where is the girl now?”

“At home. I left her in the hands of the head footman, Dorcas being away with Emilia. Thank God he is old and kindly, for I fear for her safety with some of the younger men. She’s a beautiful little thing.”

“You’ll have to give strict orders, Sir.”

John grinned. “For the notice they’ll take of me, I certainly will.”

The door bell clanged and both returned to the shop.

“Good day to you, Mr. Rawlings,” said a cheerful voice, and the Apothecary gaped in amazement.

“Mr. Turnbull! Why, I was only thinking of you this morning.”

“Were you now. And why might that be?”

“I apprehended a runaway from Brompton Park School.”

“Oh that place! Well, I’m hardly surprised. What did you do with the young absconder?”

“I did not return him, I can tell you that, Sir, can you spare me ten minutes? I would very much appreciate your advice.”

“By all means,” said Digby jovially, and allowed himself to be shown into the compounding room where John brewed tea while Nicholas saw to the customers.

The Apothecary, uncertain whether to tell all the truth, found himself greatly encouraged to do so by Turnbull’s honest, ordinary countenance, which reacted with horror as the terrible tale unfolded.

“And you say that this girl’s callous mother inflicted such a plight on her own flesh and blood?”

“Yes. But the headmaster, Sebastian, can be little better. He must have known full well that he had a girl in his midst and deliberately chose to do nothing about it.”

“As ever. As I told you I have written to him on numerous ocasions regarding the behaviour of his rowdies but he declines to take any action.”

“Do you think a visit might be in order?”

Mr. Turnbull looked delighted. “I would say it is essential. No doubt he’ll raise a hue and cry for poor Lucinda as soon as he realises she’s gone. So best we”And no doubt I’ll be accused of abduction when the truth emerges.”

Digby looked thoughtful. “I doubt you could be. The girl is over the age of consent and is free to enter service or an apprenticeship of any other arrangement for that matter. It is probably only the mysterious mother who could legally object.”

“I rather think she would prefer to remain silent than draw attention to herself.”

“But who is she? Do you have any idea?”

John looked thoughtful. “It has to be somebody highly placed in society. Nobody else would go to such lengths to hide the fact that she has children.”

Digby Turnbull pushed out his lower lip. “Could be anybody. They’re all at it, farming out their bastards and unwanteds to any unscrupulous woman who’ll take ‘em.”

John sighed. “You’re right. But in any case, the sooner I tell the wretched headmaster what has happened the better it will be for the girl.”

“So do you plan to return to Kensington tomorrow?”

“It seems as if I will have to.”

Digby looked stolid. “Then I’ll accompany you. I have come back to town to prepare the servants for the investiture but another day without me will make little difference.”

“Is that the ceremony at which John Fielding is to be knighted?”

“The very same. It takes place at the end of the month. Will you be present? Three guests are allowed.”

“No. Those three will be his wife, niece and clerk, I imagine.”

“Which is quite right and proper.”

“Indeed, Sir. Now will you do me the honour of coming to dine? It will be an all male gathering I fear but I would be delighted if you would agree. We shall eat at four o’clock.”

“I should be honoured,” said Digby Turnbull, and having made several purchases and taken John’s personal card, he bowed several times and sauntered from the shop.

The next day brought yet another early start, but not before John had given some money to the resourceful Nicholas

Dawkins and told him to buy Lucinda a dress and apron suitable for a girl in service. Then he had watched as the two of them had left the house together, heading for a dressmaker who ran up clothes in a matter of hours. Something about Lucinda’s small stature and Nicholas’s tall spareness as they walked side by side, she still garbed as a boy, touched his heart and he was pleased when his apprentice extended a hand to guide her across the road.

He had arranged to meet Digby Turnbull, who seemed to have rooms in several royal palaces, at the junction of St. James’s Street and Piccadilly, and for them then to proceed to Kensington via Knight’s Bridge. Fortunately, there being not a great deal of other traffic on the highway, this journey was achieved in excellent time and so John and his companion found themselves deposited outside the Brompton Park Boarding School by Irish Tom at just after ten o’clock in the morning.

It was a magnificent building with a half-moon carriage sweep leading to it, yet the house itself was the other way round, the sweep leading to the back of the place and the central wing and the two adjoining pavilions facing the extensive garden. Yet though the house was wide, nine windows - all large - gracing its facade, it was only two storeys high, there being dormer windows in the roof where the domestics, no doubt, were housed.

A man servant, dressed soberly, answered the door. “I have come to see Mr. Sebastian,” announced Digby Turnbull grandly.

“Do you have an appointment, Sir?”

“No, but you may tell him that I wish to see him regarding Lucas Drummond.”

For a very ordinary looking man, John thought, Mr. Turnbull certainly had an impressive way with him.

“I will discover if he can receive you, Sir.”

“You may tell him from me that if he does not do so I shall place this matter before Mr. John Fielding of Bow Street.”

A voice called from the top of the staircase leading from the round entrance hall. “Show the gentlemen up, Jenkins.”

The Apothecary and his companion exchanged a glance and with a dignified gait started to ascend the stairs.

Mr. Sebastian, who was everything that John disliked, being heavily wigged, heavily jowled and heavily stomached, stood awaiting them at the top, fiddling with his watch chain. Well?” he said.