The Gilded Lily (33 page)

Ella did not know how to react. She opened her mouth to ask if she could do the work but still live at home, but then she shut it again. She didn’t want to live in the tiny damp box with
Sadie, she wanted to live at Whitgift’s, in these warm dry rooms, and more than anything she wanted to be close to Jay. She didn’t know how it could be done, but she was not going to
give away the chance.

He dangled the keys on his index finger. ‘You don’t look taken with the idea.’

She leapt to reassure him. ‘Oh, don’t say that, I am. But it’s bowled me over. I never expected it, that’s all.’ She held her hand out for the keys. He dropped them
into her palm from his pinched finger and thumb.

‘Good, then it’s settled. And by the way, that green dress is something – very
à la mode
. It is more subtle than the red. Who did it belong to?’

‘Me, sir.’

‘You? It’s not from the clothing bay?’

‘No. I bought it myself. With last month’s wages. Chose the stuff and all.’ She brushed her hands proudly over the folds at the hips. ‘I went out in my snap time and had
a draper make it to fit.’ Then she added, ‘I didn’t want to be beholden to anyone no more.’

He smiled, seeming to find this amusing. ‘I see. Very laudable. Turn around, so that I can see the back.’ She turned, and heard the clack of his shoes as he came up behind her. He
placed a hand on the small of her back. She tried to swivel around to face him, but he turned her away again by the shoulders.

‘It is pretty well done. The fabric is not top quality, but it is very neatly sewn.’

To be this close to him gave her a shiver of anticipation. His breath was light on the back of her neck. She waited motionless, hoping he might embrace her, but instead he took hold of some of
the hair that had come loose from her topknot. She felt the slight tug as he twisted it around his finger and tucked it into one of the hairpins, before turning her back to face him.

‘Very good,’ he said. ‘I have ordered a pair of looking glasses from Venice – picture-sized glasses – for the Lily. Beautiful things with very fine gilded frames. I
have half a mind to install one of them up here, as well as in the shop downstairs, so that you may make sure you do not have mud on your hem.’ He looked pointedly at her feet.

‘Beg pardon, sir. It’s difficult to stay clean and all, when I have to walk here in all weathers. But when I live here, I’ll be spotless, I promise.’

‘Spotless, is it now?’ He laughed, looking down his long nose at her. ‘I somehow don’t think so.’

She laughed along with him as they went back downstairs, although she did not really understand why he seemed to find her so amusing. She didn’t want to be thought of as amusing, she
wanted to be taken seriously. He did not laugh at the young lady customers who came into the Lily, he treated them with deference, even respect.

During the afternoon she contemplated this, worrying it over in her mind. She barely listened as her visitors spoke, but handed them the phials and ointments with an absent smile. She thought
back to the day she first set eyes on Jay in the wig shop. She knew straight away he was a man of consequence by the way Madame Lefevre treated him. But it was different now she was in his employ.
She felt the weight of his authority now, his ability to dispense with her. She felt the press of power in him, and she did not like it. If someone told her what to do or gave her orders, it set
off the urge in her to do the very opposite. Contrary, they had called her in the village. But she also sensed the hot flicker of her heart whenever she thought of him. She wanted to have a chance
with him, to bring his power to herself, and for that she would bear anything. They were alike, she and him. He ran deep, just as she did. She could beguile him, if she lived here at the Lily, for
she had never failed with a man yet. Men needed persuading a little, that was all. It was a question of willpower.

During the afternoon she found several excuses to pop upstairs to see her chamber. She was already thinking of it as her chamber. The chamber with the proper wooden bed and the lime-painted
walls, the long low windows with the stuff drapes, the washstand with the pretty blue and white basin and ewer. And fancy – now she was to have a fine looking glass with a gilded frame.

She had no idea what to do about Sadie. Lord knows, she couldn’t bring her here, but nor could she send her back to Westmorland – either way she would be spotted in a moment and
their lives would unravel. Yet she could not leave Sadie in the Gowpers’ lodgings; who would keep an eye on her? It was clear that she couldn’t be trusted to stay indoors. Hadn’t
she warned her, plain as plain, not to go out? And then at the very first sign of an argument, what had she done – she’d run off into the street. It wasn’t even full dark. What if
someone had seen her? It did not bear thinking about. Sadie didn’t understand, maybe did not feel death snapping at her heels. The world was a ruthless place. Sadie was weak, would probably
blab if they pressed her. No, she must stay where she was, safe out of sight.

Madame Lefevre pointed to the empty stool.

‘Where’s Mercy Fletcher?’

Corey carried on knotting, focused intently on the work in front of her, but sharply aware of the other girls’ embarrassment and Madame Lefevre’s probing look.

‘I don’t know, madame,’ Alyson said. ‘We haven’t seen her.’

Madame Lefevre tapped the measuring stick on her hand and walked between the benches. ‘Does anyone know where she is?’

‘No, madame,’ Betsy said. ‘Maybe it’s the weather.’

Corey breathed a sigh of relief, they weren’t going to tell on her.

‘Been in a fist-fight, have we?’ Madame addressed Corey.

‘Fell over, madame. Slipped in the snow.’

Madame Lefevre narrowed her eyes, and sniffed to show her disbelief.

When she had gone Corey turned to Betsy. ‘Thanks, Betsy, for keeping quiet.’

Betsy didn’t say anything, just smiled a rueful smile, and they all continued to knot peaceably in silence.

Mercy did not return to work for the rest of the week. But the following Monday they heard the noise of boots on the scraper inside the front door and felt the sudden icy draught. When this
happened the girls paused in what they were doing, to listen and see who the customer might be and what they wanted. Already they had overheard Madame Lefevre accept an order for four more
footmen’s perukes, even though she had made a great fuss about orders only that morning, telling them they were overstretched with one less girl. They had looked at each other with raised
eyebrows and shaken their heads.

This time the voice was easily identified as Mr Ibbetson, the man who had been enquiring after Ella and Sadie. Last time he had been, Alyson said his slightly nasal voice sounded as if his mouth
was full of false teeth. Fortunately for the listening girls, it was also the sort of voice that carried.

‘I was passing so I thought I would call. Is there any further news of the Appleby sisters?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Madame Lefevre’s voice replied.

‘You did not think to make further enquiries with the girls?’ He said it as if it was Madame Lefevre’s fault.

‘Have there been no sightings then?’

‘On the contrary. I had to go down to Newgate Gaol yesterday. There was a half-dozen waiting for me there. They kept the folk who’d brought them in waiting in the alley beyond, as
well. Vultures, all of them. Some unscrupulous people will try anything for money. None of the girls in the cells was she. In fact I’ve never seen such a crowd of hapless cases. Would you
credit it – there was even one poor soul languishing there who was sixty years old.’

‘Really? Well, I am afraid, Mr Ibbetson, that as far as I can see the trail is completely cold. Despite my best efforts on your behalf, it seems they are vanished into thin air.’

‘I shall not give up, you know.’

‘I’ll let you know, sir, if there’s anything further I can do . . .’ A draught caused the calico curtain to swing, and then the shop door closed.

Madame marched into the room. ‘If anyone here knows anything, or sees hide or hair of Sadie or Ella Appleby, you are to come straight to me. Not to the Blue Ball, but to me. Do I make
myself clear?’

‘Yes, madame,’ they chorused, having no intention of doing any such thing.

Corey hoped that Sadie was hidden safe somewhere and not one of those poor girls in the pits in Newgate. She was uneasy to think that old Feverface had been out sniffing after Sadie and Ella.
All afternoon Corey could not shift Sadie and Ella from her mind, wondering what it felt like to have the spectre of the noose hanging over you.

No wonder Sadie had shot off so quick when Mercy set her brother on her. And it must have taken some courage to come say her farewells. But oh my Lord, she sure and certain hoped Sadie was
feeling brave now, with that cold fish Ibbetson out looking for her, and that killjoy Mercy Fletcher, and Old Feverface intent on claiming the reward and bringing her to the gallows.

That night when Corey got home, she helped her mam get supper ready as usual before she went to work. Her mam worked in the Fox’s Brush tavern of a night, so Corey was always left in sole
charge of the children. Three of them, Tom, Harry and Benny – all little terrors that’d test the mettle of a saint. When she had rounded Tom and Harry up, taken off their wet mitts and
got them to the table, she shouted outside again for Benny, the youngest, to come in. He was always the last, couldn’t bear to leave his friends in case he missed something.

When he finally did come in, hands and face filthy as always, he said, ‘What’s in the pot, sis?’

‘Beet and barley soup, same as usual. Now wash your hands.’

‘Good, I’m starving. Hey, there’s some new notices up by the wharf. I just seen ’em. There was a few folks gathered round so we went up for a look-see. A man was nailing
them up whilst we stood by. He told us to sling it, but we hung round anyways. There’s one up asking after two maids. “Savage Sisters”, the man said. What’s
“savage”?’

‘Ooh,’ said Tom, the eldest. ‘What’ve they done?’

Corey turned from adding salt to the pot. ‘Savage? It means sort of fierce, or cruel maybe. But maybes they’re not really like that. Do you know aught else?’

‘Nah. Only what the man said. Said one of them’s got a great red stain on her cheek. That they’re evil and round here some place.’ He looked round the parlour as if one
of them might materialize any moment from a dark corner.

Corey stirred the soup. Those notices must be about Sadie and Ella. It made her angry, her friends being hounded like this. Not that she really knew the truth of it, but no mistaking, Sadie and
Ella were in trouble up to their necks. She tapped the wooden spoon briskly on the edge of the pot. ‘Less of your nonsense now, soup’s ready,’ she said.

Benny ignored her and carried on chattering to his brothers. ‘After we come away Simon says he’s seen one of them, but we don’t believe him. He makes up porkies all the time.
Anyhow, he said she was on the shore a-gatherin’ coal. Well, that’s cuckoo, ain’t it?’

There was laughter round the table. Corey ladled the soup into his bowl as he talked. ‘Catch one of them gatherin’ coal! No, she’d be out slitting people’s throats with
her other half. Peter says they’ve done all sorts. There was another washed-up body by the bridge only the day afore yesterday, all bloated, and Peter says he bets it’s them as
strangulated her.’

‘Who are Simon and Peter?’ Corey said. ‘Do I know them?’

‘Yes, sure you do, the costermonger’s sons. Peter and Simon Reed. Peter’s the eldest, and Simon’s his brother—’

‘Are they in the ginnel now?’

‘Yep, I asked ’em to wait up whilst I had this.’ He was already sliding off the stool, his bread and dripping still in his hand, anxious to be back outside playing with his
friends.

‘Hold on, Benny. If you bring Simon and Peter inside, I’ll give them a currant patty to share.’

‘I’ll get ’em.’

A few moments later her kitchen was even more full of grubby children. She soon picked out Simon and asked him if he’d wait and tell her about what he’d seen.

‘It were only one of ’em,’ he said, ‘but I’m sure it were her because even though it were dark I could see she had a great big patch on her face. Like Uncle
Seth’s dog it were – from here to here. She seemed friendly-like. Course then I din’t know she was savage and she’d cut your heart out, so I din’t know to be
scared.’

‘Where was this, Simon?’

‘Not far. Just round the corner. Old Swan Stairs, near enough. On the shore there. She was pretending to be an ornary girl. And I’ve seen her again since. Looking out a window, and
laughing at me. That’s twice I seen her. But I ain’t going back.’

‘If I come with you now, will you show me which window?’

‘No. Not on your life. I was just lucky the first time that she was acting friendly. But that might have been to trick me. She stared at me last time and then she laughed. It gives me the
creeps now when I remember it, that laugh.’

‘You’ll be safe with me. I would really like to see where you saw her – because once I had a friend with a patch on her face, and she wasn’t savage at all. I’ve
lost track of my friend and I’m still looking for her.’