Lady Rogue (14 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Petticoat Lane, Rosemary Lane, Holywell Street and Monmouth Street, were the centers of the old-clothes trade and the markets frequented by Dawn during the month of September.   Since Middle London was the older part of the city, everyone passing from one district to the other had, at some time or other, to go through the run down areas frequented by thieves.  Thus, she was strategically placed to not only sell her hats to those of her own kind but to a few of the "swells" as well. Dawn felt inordinately proud of herself today, having turned discarded flowers, ribbons and lace into dainty confections which three of the uppercrust ladies had promptly purchased.

It seemed hats were becoming more and more elaborate
, and Dawn's inventive ideas pleased those of daring.   Having seen several of the hats worn by  foreigners, she had even adapted berets and turbans into fashionable creations.  Her  most popular hat, however, was the hat that could be worn out in the rain.  It was a wide brimmed bonnet of natural straw which she had trimmed with row upon row of silk ribbon, a rainbow of hues which complemented any outfit. Unlike feathers and flowers, ribbons didn't get as easily ruined when there was moisture in the air.  Her secret of making the hat weatherproof was simple.  She covered the straw with a coating of tallow from candles her friend the chandler had given her.

As she began coming into her own, Dawn discarded her mob
cap and the loose fitting dress for something more stylish. She owned two dresses, which she alternated as the mood suited her.  Today she wore a lavender  linen with puffed sleeves, filled in with a tucker to hide the low neckline.  If it was patched and torn in a few places, well, it was still fashionable.  She had also taken to modeling her own hats. Her choice for the morning a poke bonnet with a soft crown and rigid brim which held her curls tightly to frame her face.

Bending over
, Dawn sorted out her ribbons, preparing herself to replace the hats she had just sold.  She jumped as a well-aimed pinch caught the flesh of her buttocks.  "You!"  She shook her fist at the offender, rattling off a string of swearwords at the grinning buffoon.  Throwing his hands up in the air he pretended innocence but she wasn't fooled.  "Overbold blighter!"

She kept her eyes on the rogue as he walked along, troubled by the feeling she had seen him be
fore. What was it about him that made him seem so familiar? Dawn moved closer for a better look. 

"Tweezer!" 

Oh, she remembered him well, the brash, bold young rogue who had made her life so miserable when she had first come to Black John Dunn's lair.  He and John had had a falling out and the younger man had gone his way. How she detested him.  His departure had given her at least a measure of pleasure.  Now their paths crossed again. Had he come into his own?  Was he a gentleman?  No.  His stealthy movements put her on her guard, and she recognized him as one of the swell mob, a gang of thieves who dressed fahionably in order to escape detection.  They were considered first place in the thieves' profession.

Moving
amid the crowd, he seemed to have his eye on a lavishly dressed, elderly woman in a wheel chair who had not an inkling  that she was about to be robbed.

I
t's none o' yer business, Dawn
.  Giving herself some good advice, Dawn turned away, busying herself with her hats, but she couldn't still the voice that whispered in her head
.  An old woman!
 
A rich one to be sure
. But the thought of a helpless old woman being robbed pricked her.  And to be victimized by Tweezer, no less.  Waging a battle with her conscience, Dawn at last decided to thwart him.  Tweezer stole the poor woman's reticule, but Dawn sauntered up behind him and craftily stole it back again.   She pushed through the crowd and came to the old woman's side.

"Excuse me!"

"Yes?"  The  hazel eyes that met Dawn's seemed to stare into her very soul.

"Yer....yer reticule
.  Ye seem to 'ave dropped it." Biting her lip nervously, Dawn handed it back.  "If...if I was you, I'd keep a tight 'old on it, I would,"  she whispered behind her hand, "Thieves lurks 'ere abouts."

"Thieves?" 
The old woman clutched the drawstring bag to her  ample bosom.

"The 'ole plaice is c
rawling with 'em.  Put yer bag somewheres saif," she said protectively.  "And if I was yew I'd  tell that gent' wot's pushing yer to move  on along."  That tall dark-suited, haughty man turned up his nose at Dawn.

"Thieves I'm sure.  I wouldn't doubt that she is one
of them by the looks of her."

"Hush, Douglass!"  The woman's eyes held a sudden kindness.  "Thank you, young woman.  I do appreciate your honesty
and
your timely warning."  Dawn started to walk away, but the woman reached for her hand.  "My name is Margaret Pembrooke."

"Dawn.  Dawn is me name."

"Like the sunrise!  Lovely.  And you are  very pretty."  She patted the hand that she held.  Her eyes roamed over Dawn, but not in a condescending manner.  Instead her gaze was appraising.  "I'd like to offer you a reward, for returning my reticule."

"Reward?"  The offer was tempting
, but Dawn to shook her head.  "I didn't do anything.  Really."  In fact it made Dawn feel a bit cocky to have bested Tweezer.  She wished she could be around to see his face when he realized the bag was gone.  Oh, what a laugh that would be.

"Isn't there anythin
g I can do?  Anything at all?"

Smiling,  Dawn made a suggestion. 
"Yer could buy one o' me 'ats!"

"Of course!  And such charming hats they are."  She looked over her shoulder at her servant.  "Douglass,
I want all seven!  See to it!"

"Seven?  Madame, you're not serious."  He eye
d the creations with distaste.

"You heard me!"
  She handed him her reticule.  "Give her the price she wants and then guard this for me.  If I lose it again it will be your head.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, madam
."  With a grumble he transacted the exchange, much to Dawn's astonishment.  Was the woman serious?  Did she really want all seven hats?

"
Yer don't 'ave to taike them all......"

"Oh, but I do.  They are exquisite!  I intend to give them to my friends as birthday presents.  Don't you think that would be a good idea?"  Douglass started to say something
, but she nudged him in the ribs.  "You fascinate me, child.  Starting your own business is very admirable.  Just how did you come to be a milliner?  And why?"

"To earn me own waiy."  Dawn blushed, feeling suddenly shy but she confided, "I want to earn enough money to learn to talk all proper like.  So's I can talk l
aike yer do.  Me Mum spoke laike that once.  She was a laidy and I want ter become one too."

"A lady?"  Douglass looked down his nose at
her, instigating Dawn's anger.

Stiffening her back, raising her chin, Dawn glared up at the servant. "Yes a laidy!  And I'm going to too!  No
one is going to keep me down!"

"Bravo!  Bravo!"  Margaret Pembrooke clapped her hands.  "I admire your spunk, child."  There was something about the pretty young woman that reminded her of herself once.  She too had struggled to make her way in life after fate had given her much heartache.  Certainly this Daw
n was very likeable. Despite her tattered garments that she wore there was a certain grace in the way she held herself, a loveliness that even poverty had not been able to steal away.  In another setting this dark-haired girl could well be a jewel.

"I'm going ter be a self-made woman, I am.  People will look up ter me."  Standing up on tiptoe Dawn tried to match the servant's lofty heighth.  Look down on
her would he?  She'd show him.

"I think they will."  An idea was forming in Margaret Pembrooke's mind. Of course
, the young woman was too proud to take charity, and yet she did so want to help her. "Suppose I aid you with your phonetics and diction in exchange for more hats?"

"More hats?"  Douglass was aghast.  "Are you going
to become a milliner, Madame?"

"I might.  I certainly don't have much to amuse me, seeing as how my ne
phew scarcely visits me these days.  Unless he wants money, that is.  And my sister and brother-in-law are caught up in their own social world." She looked Dawn squarely in the eye.  "Would that be agreeable to you?  Hats in exchange for my teaching you how to speak like an aristocrat?  You wouldn't be afraid that I might give you some competition here?  With your hats?"

Dawn laughed merrily.   "No, I wouldn't be afraid.  And I....I would so much like to learn.  Seems I might just kill two birds wi' one stone tha
t waiy.  When shall we start?"

"Right now seems appropriate.  Don't drop your h's, child.  It's not 'at, it is hat.  Huh...huh....hat!  That will do as starters.  When you g
et home practice, saying your h words with a candle in front of you.  The flame must flicker as you speak.  Next week Douglass will meet you here at this same time and bring you to my house.  There we will begin your lessons in depth.  Once a week we'll meet.  Agreed?"

"Agreed!"  Dawn couldn't hide her gratitude.  It shown clearly in her ey
es.  "And I'll bring me 'ats."

"Hats!" 

"Huh....hats!"

Dawn w
atched as the servant wheeled the old woman through the crowd. She felt lighter of heart than ever before.  Everything was going so well that she wanted to pinch herself to make certain it wasn't all a dream. First her successful enterprise and now Mrs. Pembrooke was going to teach her how to talk like a lady.  Though storm clouds hovered on the horizon, it seemed a perfect day and only the beginning of the new life she so wanted for herself and for Robbie

Chapter Seventeen
             

The candle's flame flickered and fluttered as Dawn diligently practiced her diction lessons.  For three weeks now she had obediently waited for Douglass at the assigned meeting place and gone with him across town to
St.  John’s Square.  Praise had been her reward.  Margaret Pembrooke lavished compliments on Dawn for her quick learning.  Now hope glimmered as brightly as the fire which warmed Dawn's face as she stared at the tallow candle.

"How 'appy...er...
h
appy the little
h
en will be when she 'as.....h has  h..er chicks back in the blinkin' nest."  She spoke the same sentence over and over, forcing herself to remember the h was not silent but spoken.  There were other rules as well, things she remembered when she closed her eyes and thought of her mother reading her a bedtime story.  Things like not leaving off her g's  and t's at the end of a word.   "Not blinkin' but blinking."

"The letter
a
has many pronunciations, for example the short tone, "ah" as in the words  "father" and  "rather".  There are also times when it takes on a long tone."--Margaret Pembrooke had advised sternly.  "Ay" as in "day" or "pray"."

"Daiy. D..ah..ee."  Dawn had uttered, unnerved by the wom
an's suddenly clucking tongue.

"No, no, no, no.  Not ‘die’.   ‘Day’
!  It will take time, my dear, but I know you will do just fine.  Now practice your h's.  I'll expect you to have them perfected the next time we meet." Dawn was determined that today when she met with Margaret Pembrooke, she would have her h's mastered.

"How h..happy the little hen will be when she has h...her chicks back in the nest."  The flame danced merrily with each correct sound.  "How happy the little hen will be when she has her chicks b
ack in the nest."

"Gor blimey
!  Yer must be daft, Dawnie, ter be talking ter yerself."  Standing in the doorway, Robbie eyed her warily.  "Are yer fevered?  It's all them raine drops, it is.  Yer've caught a chill!"  Coming quickly to her side he put his hand on her forehead.  "Don't feel 'ot."

"Hot, Robbie.  Not 'ot, but hot.  That's the proper way to speak.  Mum talked like that."  Oh
, how she wanted to share her new learning with her brother so that perhaps he could escape this hell hole too.  Margaret Pembrooke had been extremely sympathetic, explaining to Dawn that when people were crammed together in an area, such as those who lived in the east end were, their speech flaws were repeated and intensified.             

"Lord love a duck!  If yer ain't gettin' hoighty toighty all of a sudden."  He roared with coarse laughter when she revealed her aspirations.  "Moonstru
ck fantasies, Dawnie me dear."

"The
waiy we talk marks us, Rob."

"We talks jus' fine, yer and me for wot we needs ter do to keep food in our mouths."  Crossing his arms a
cross his chest he was sullen.

"Oh, Robbie,
listen
.  I met a woman on the lane and she promised ter teach me how to saiy me words, just loike those in the West End.  If she teaches me, then I can teach
you
." 

Robbie patted the concealed pocket beneath his coat where four coins nestled against the hardness of his chest.  "This is all we need.  Money.  It talks, Dawnie dear.  Loud and clear.  And it don't care a jot
about how we trill our words."

"The waiy we speak is coarse and vulgar.  Mum would roll over in her graive if she could 'ear....h
..ear us."

"Mum can't see or 'ear us."  Clenching his jaw he looked out the window.  "They killed 'er, they did and I'd be willin' ter believe that even tho' she was a damned fine woman she was kept out o' h
..eaven by the loikes of all the toffs.  Must be jus' like it is 'ere in the after life.  I imagine an East Side  in 'eaven and a West End where all those of consequence reside.  If there is an 'eaven, that is."

"There has to be
, Rob!  Mrs. Pembrooke says...."

"Mrs. Pembrooke.  Mrs.
Pembrooke.  I don't know 'oo she is but I'm gettin' tired o' 'earin' 'er naime."  Bending down he met her nose to nose. "I'm your bro’, remember me!"

"Of course I remember.  And I love ye, I do."  Hoping to soothe his ire
, she revealed to him the story of how she had bested Tweezer by taking back the reticule, how she had given it back to the woman in the wheelchair, and how they had struck up an acquaintance.

"Is she rich?"  His eyes
sparked with sudden interest.

"Very.  Oh, Rob, yer should see where she lives!"  Dawn would never forget her first sight of the place.  She had hesitated to follow Douglass up the walk at first, certain the t
wo carved lions would pounce, they looked so real.  Douglass had prodded her along, however, and suddenly she had found herself in a room so large she was certain it must be at the king's palace.  She had stared wide-eyed at the imposing interior.  "Marble steps, Rob, veined wi' gold that led to a huge oak double door.  There were carpets on all o' the floors and curtains of blue and green velvet.  The ceiling was as 'igh as the sky and there were......."

"'Ow often does yer go there?"

"Once a week.   I'm to meet Douglass in about an hour.  Why?"

He tried to hide his scheming smile.  "Just curious, me dear.  Don't want this learning o' yers to interfer
e wi' wot needs ter be done." 

"It won't, Robbie, I promise."  Leaf
ing through a stack of papers, she held up the ledgers she had kept so carefully.  "See!"

Patting her on the head
, he made his plans.  He'd follow her to this blooming palace and look it over.  Why spend his life scrounging for farthings when there was a larger piece of the pie just waiting for his itching hands?  "Ah, yes," he chortled.  When a door was opened only a fool stood idly by.  Dawn's acquaintance might very well be the opportunity he was looking for.