The Gilded Lily (29 page)

‘No need. I’ll find it,’ she said, and turned smartly on her heel. The door shuddered in its frame as she shut it.

‘A Puritan killjoy,’ said Tindall. ‘I’ve seen the likes before. These griping widows, always wanting to stir up trouble where there’s none. Probably come to make a
fuss, accuse your son of popery and such.’

‘Don’t fret, Tindall. Jay’ll not have any trouble with her. He can handle it, can my Jay. He can sweet-talk the sourest lady. They all come round in the end.’

‘Would you like me to escort her, check what she’s about?’

‘Would you, Nat, save my legs?’

‘I’ll come back later, tell you what she was after.’ And Tindall hurried out through the door into the slippery yard.

Ella was looking out of the window, watching the men scraping the snow to clear a space for the carriages to turn, when Madame Lefevre crossed the yard. She recognized her
stark black silhouette straight away and instinctively stepped back to the edge of the window. Maybe she had come to pawn something. But when she stopped to talk to Meg, and Meg pointed in her
direction, her heart sank. She was looking for her.

She had to hide. The old crow must have seen the notices. She was lettered enough to read them for herself and would be chasing that reward. Without a thought for the customers she rushed
upstairs and into the storeroom and shut the door behind her. To her surprise Jay Whitgift was up there. There were a lot of blocks of soap all lined up in rows on the table. He dropped the bundle
he was holding up to his nose and looked embarrassed. ‘Just sorting these soaps,’ he said. ‘Is anything the matter?’

‘No. I mean, yes.’ She heard the door go below, and her heart began to pound.

‘Are you unwell?’

She did not answer.

‘I take it the hounds of hell are after you?’ He laughed.

‘No.’ She was unable to smile at his jest. ‘Look, the woman who’s just come in. She knows me. I mean, it’s Madame Lefevre, you know, my old employer from the wig
shop. I don’t want her to know I’m here, working for you.’

‘Why not?’

‘I just . . .’

‘Good day?’ The hollow impatience of Madame Lefevre’s voice came from beneath their feet.

‘Please, sir, would you tell her I’ve moved on? I don’t want her to know where I work.’

‘This is inconvenient – I don’t expect to employ a salesgirl then have to go down myself.’

‘Mr Whitgift? Is there anyone there?’ echoed Madame Lefevre.

‘Please, sir?’ Ella kept her voice steady.

‘Downstairs, Miss Johnson.’

Ella did not move. She shook her head and clung tight to the latch lever on the door.

Jay gave her a hard stare, frowned and pushed past her to go downstairs.

Ella leaned out onto the landing so she could hear their conversation. She dare not move nearer in case a floorboard should creak and give her away. Her mouth was dry. What if Madame had one of
the notices with her? Jay Whitgift would recognize her straight away and she would be finished. Her thoughts tangled in her head. She forced herself to listen.

She heard Jay’s voice. ‘Ah, good afternoon, madam. I trust you are well.’

‘Quite well, thanking you. I have come about Ella Appleby – the girl who made such a sow’s ear of your wig.’

‘There is no need to apologize further, madam . . .’

‘No, no. I am trying to locate her.’

‘Hold on, what did you say her name was?’

‘Ella Appleby.’

There was a pause. Ella’s fingernails bit into her palm. Pray God she would not tell him what they had done.

‘Well, I am afraid I cannot help you. I have no idea where she is. Devilish weather, isn’t it?’

‘But the little girl in the yard told me there was a girl of her description working here.’

‘Well, I’m afraid the little girl is not very well informed. I let your girl go. I’m afraid she did not suit.’

Ella loosened her grip on the banister rail and sat down. She craned her head so as to hear better.

‘Where is she now?’ asked Madame Lefevre.

‘I have no idea, madam, nor do I care. She was a bad lot.’

Ella felt a stab at being referred to this way, but she was relieved he had not given her away.

‘You have no idea where she lives?’

‘I take no interest in the personal lives of my employees, madam, so no.’

‘If she should come here again . . .’

‘She won’t.’

‘But if she does, will you tell her to drop by the perruquier’s?’

‘Why should I?’

‘There’s some money owed to her. A considerable sum. She might be glad of it, now she has no position.’

Ella dropped down to a crouch. The crafty old stick. She’d got wind of the notices and seen the reward.

Jay’s voice floated up.

‘If I see her again, which I sincerely hope I will not, I will tell her no such thing. If you owe her money, then I should keep it. She certainly did nothing for your business.’

‘That’s true, but I feel that would be uncharitable. Let me know if you come across her. Her or her sister, you remember, the girl with the birthmark on her face.’

‘Whilst you are here, may I interest you in some calendula cream? It is very efficacious, so I am told. All the ladies swear by it for keeping wrinkles at bay.’

The slight pause told Ella that Madame Lefevre had registered the veiled insult.

‘No, no,’ came her voice. ‘Just, I’d be interested to hear any news—’

The door jangled again.

‘Ah, Jay. You are here after all.’ Another man’s voice.

‘Oh it’s you, Tindall,’ said Jay. ‘Would you escort Madame Lefevre across the yard, she’s just leaving.’

‘So you found him then,’ said Tindall’s voice. ‘Here, take my arm. The yard’s damned slippery, the cobbles are thick with ice – nearly came a cropper
myself.’

Ella positioned herself behind the curtain. Dusk had fallen quickly. She watched as the shanky figure of Tindall led Madame Lefevre across the yard in tottering steps. They were talking as they
went. She could see Tindall bend to listen, and once they stopped and seemed to be deep in conversation. Ella’s stomach churned, wondering what they were saying and whether Madame Lefevre was
telling him anything about her and Sadie. Eventually he raised his hand to Madame Lefevre and she turned out of the gate into the gathering darkness of the street outside. Ella released the fabric
of the curtain which she held gripped in one hand. Her palm was sweating, her nerves jangling. She heard Jay moving downstairs and then the door to the stairway creak open.

Her stomach sank. Now she would have to face Jay and she was afraid. She had thought London to be safe. And it would have been. Were it not for Sadie, and her disfigurement. She could have
disappeared quick, were it not for her. Two girls were much more conspicuous, and if one had a mark on her face – well. The city was tightening around her, twisting like the twitch they used
to control an unbroken horse.

His heels rang on the wooden stairs. She steeled herself, took a deep breath.

‘Are you going to tell me what this is about?’ Jay reappeared grim-faced on the landing. ‘You deceived me, gave me a false name.’

Ella curtseyed to him. ‘Beg pardon, Mr Whitgift, I wanted a fresh start. I didn’t mean nothing by it.’

‘Why would you do that? She says there’s money owed to you. Don’t you want to lay claim to it?’

‘That’s lies. There’s no money. She just wants to know where I am.’

‘But why?’ He moved closer to her, a glint in his eye. She felt hot suddenly, her tight-laced bodice was constricting her.

‘Do you want the truth? She’s after me because I owe her,’ she lied, opening her eyes wide and looking into his.

‘How much?’

‘When she sacked me I was angry, so I robbed the petty cash drawer. But it was only a few farthings. Don’t give me away. It weren’t much and they’ll brand me if you
do.’

He scrutinized her a moment. ‘I’m not sure I believe you, Ella Appleby. I was brought up in the backstreets of Whitechapel, and I tell you – I can smell something fishy from a
hundred yards, and you’re a good deal nearer.’

Ella looked down at her shoes.

‘If I find anything’s gone missing from the Gilded Lily . . .’

Ella thought of the second pot of alabaster cream she had tucked in her apron and was disconcerted to find the heat rising to her cheeks.

‘You minx! You have, haven’t you?’

Embarrassed, Ella brought out the pot of cream and held it out on her palm.

‘What, this?’ He let out a great snort of laughter. ‘You pinched this?’ She did not know why he was laughing. ‘A ha’porth of cream?’

‘Sorry, Mr Whitgift. I’ll pay for it. ’Twas only a borrow, till I get my pay purse next week. I wanted to look more—’

‘You’ve been using it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come here.’

She approached him with her head bowed. He put his hands under her chin and tilted her face up and to the side. She thought she might faint, the blood beat at her temples. She held her
breath.

‘You could do with a little more. It would make you less ruddy.’ He took hold of a wisp of her hair and lifted it between his finger and thumb. ‘Lady Lucie Edgware has her hair
styled very fetchingly, don’t you think?’

‘It is that. Very well done,’ said Ella, quashing the feelings of envy that threatened to show in her face, and staying still as he fingered her hair.

‘You could do worse than copy her style.’ He released her hair and turned away saying, ‘You may keep the cream. I expect you to recompense the business, though, from your next
pay packet.’

Ella fumbled to put the jar away. He was looking at her with his black eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together. She crossed her fingers he believed her story about thieving from Madame
Lefevre’s.

‘Miss Appleby, if that is truly who you are, I will keep your secret. I will not tell Madame Lefevre you are here. But I expect you to be obedient in return. You understand me?’ He
stacked the soaps in a neat tower one on top of the other. ‘You may remain as Miss Johnson here, but the slightest whiff of trouble and I shall send for the wigmaker myself.’

She nodded. She dare not let the relief show on her face.

‘You may go back down. Oh, one thing before you go. Walk with smaller steps, and daintily. When a gentlewoman enters, it must be silent, I should only hear the rustle of her
skirts.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Ella turned and made her way stiffly to the shop, slowly picking up her feet, placing them silently on the stair treads. She was mortified. He must think her a clumsy cluck, even in her new
dainty boots. She made herself walk slowly, even though it made her feel strange to be creeping thus and not romping from one task to the next in a terrible hurry like she had when she was a
housemaid. But if it was what Jay wanted and it stopped him asking any more questions, then she would oblige him. He followed her down, and she could feel him staring at her as she descended, an
almost physical sensation of his eyes on the nape of her neck.

When he left her alone in the shop she almost fell to her knees in gratitude. She still had her position. But it had been frightening, Feverface appearing in the yard like that, and now Jay knew
her real name he might read about her on the notices. She’d passed one on her way to the Lily, nailed to the shutter of the pudding shop. They must be on every street corner by now, and how
much longer could she keep Sadie out of the public eye? She tussled it in her thoughts. Curse Sadie. But for her, she would have been invisible.

Sadie opened the door to greet her sister.

‘Brrr! Let me get inside!’

Ella dumped her basket and shrugged out of her cloak, shaking it at arm’s length to dispel the snowflakes from its shoulders before depositing it on the hook on the back of the door.

Sadie drew back, surprised to see that Ella was dressed in another gown, this time an elaborate bright green and gold velvet, with lace point on the sleeves and a swathe of embroidered leaves
and flowers on the front panel. Ella crossed the room carefully, as if treading on eggshells, and sat down stiffly on one of the hard stools. Her hair was dressed in a tight new style with a froth
of lace ribbon wound around the topknot.

She looked sheepish as though she was expecting a comment from Sadie, but none was forthcoming. Sadie sat down again silently, her mouth set in a line, and carried on cutting up bacon fat to
make lardy cakes. So she had another fine new gown, did she? And she, Sadie, still in her Westmorland woollen.

After a few minutes’ strained silence, ‘Been to Cornhill?’ asked Sadie.

‘No. I didn’t want to trudge all the way up there in this snow. Look, my feet are frozen. Can’t wear my good leather bootees in this.’ She wriggled a foot free from her
wooden clog.

Sadie looked at Ella’s reddened toes. They did not look like they belonged to the rest of her.

‘It’s turned slushy now and I did not want this dress to spoil,’ Ella continued. ‘I came straight home instead. I’ll get the corn-meal tomorrow.’

Sadie made no comment, but got up and threw the bacon bits into a basin.

‘Did you get your pay?’

‘Yes.’

At last. Sadie threw up her hands. ‘God be praised. So you can go to the flesh market as well, and get some ribs and maybe a bit of brisket. I’m that tired of patties and
puddings.’