The Gilded Lily (47 page)

‘What is it?’

‘I swear I can see Mercy Fletcher coming.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I know it’s near on dark, but it looks like her. Same mincing little walk. She mustn’t see us.’

‘What’s she doing?’

‘I don’t know. There’s some men with her carrying lanterns.’

They dropped down behind the wall, Corey craning her head over the top to see better.

‘Why are you hiding from her? I thought you were friends?’

‘No. She’s a bully. We had a spat, and I cut off her hair.’

‘You never?’

‘I did. Let’s hope she’s not coming to fetch water. But they’ve no pails, or anything . . . God’s truth! It’s that old gent.’

‘Who?’ asked Sadie trying to see.

‘Stay low, he mustn’t see you,’ whispered Corey. ‘He came to the wig shop, asking after you. He’s the one after catching you.’

‘You mean, Ibbetson? Is he—?’

‘Shh. Keep your voice down, they’re getting nearer. He’s marching along in a great hurry, and there’s three other men with them. It’s her brother, Jacob
–’ a sharp intake of breath, ‘– and the constable’s men, I recognize the livery.’

‘Are they coming this way?’

‘They’ve gone past the end of the alley. Saints alive, I think they might be going to your lodgings.’

Sadie tried to stand up to look over the wall, but Corey restrained her. ‘Get down,’ Corey said, ‘cover your face, and stay out of sight. Go further down the alley, and wait
there. I’m going to see if I’m right, and they are going to your house.’

‘No,’ said Sadie, in a determined voice. ‘I want to see if it’s him.’

‘Keep out of sight, then.’ Corey beckoned to Sadie and the two girls scuttled across the road and dodged behind a waiting draycart. The silhouettes of four broad backs were striding
down the passage towards the Gowpers’ house, following Mercy’s lead. By the house, Mercy stopped and held up her lantern, then pointed up at the window.

Sadie and Corey exchanged glances. Sadie rubbed her arms, they were all gooseflesh. One of the men stepped forward and banged on the door.

‘That’s him – Mr Ibbetson,’ said Corey.

He turned round to speak to the other men and Sadie got a glimpse of lowering eyebrows and a grim set to the mouth.

‘It’s him all right. I recognize him.’ A cold frisson of fear crept round her neck.

Minutes later the party had disappeared inside the house.

Corey tugged at Sadie’s arm. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.’

Sadie dug in her heels and tried to shake Corey off. ‘No, Corey, I need to get the rest of my things. There’s my sewing things and my cooking pots, and a good warm blanket . . .
I’ll go back and get them when they’ve gone.’

‘Have you lost your wits? They’ll be out any moment and we need a good start on them –’ Corey paused. There was the glimmer of lights moving in the upstairs window of
Sadie’s room. ‘Look,’ she said.

Neither girl moved. They watched, compelled to do so, as the light went past the window inside Sadie’s room. It perturbed Sadie to think they were inside, poking about in her things. Corey
plucked urgently at her arm. ‘Come on, Sadie, let’s go. Before they come out.’

She hared across the road, grabbed the sack and swung it over her shoulder. A moment later she was pulling at Sadie’s hand.

‘Too late. Here they come.’

She pushed Sadie back behind the cart.

Two of the men emerged, with Mercy Fletcher just behind. Mercy’s face was shadowed under her dark bonnet and hood, but the set of the head and the bouncing walk could only be hers. The men
looked up and down the street, holding their swinging lamps aloft. Moments later the solid silhouette of Titus Ibbetson appeared on the threshold. He hurried to join his friends on the
neighbour’s doorstep. They knocked hard on the door with a cudgel, and the echo of it was loud in the night air. Ibbetson stood a little away from the others, under the house lantern, looking
intently at a switch of material in his hand.

‘What’s that he’s got?’ Corey whispered.

‘It’s the sampler I started,’ Sadie said, ‘on an old kerchief. I stitched my name on it.’

‘Gawd. There’s no mistaking you lived there then. Wait a minute,’ Corey said, ‘where’s the other man? There were two of the constable’s men went
in.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Mercy and Jacob, Ibbetson and two others.’ She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘That means one’s waiting inside. For when you come back.’ Corey took hold of
Sadie’s hands. ‘Sorry, but you know you can’t go back for your things now.’

Sadie gripped tightly onto Corey’s fingers. ‘I don’t give a spit for my things. I’ve got foss-all worth having anyway. Don’t you see, what if Ella goes back there?
She won’t know there’s someone waiting for her.’

‘Come on, I’ll take you back to mine.’

‘No, it can’t wait till morning. I’ll have to go to Whitgift’s tonight. She might turn up here.’ Sadie pointed at the Gowpers’ house.

‘Bloody Ella,’ Corey said.

They watched as Titus Ibbetson knocked on the next door, and a large woman in a buff-coloured apron opened it.

‘Quick, whilst they’re busy,’ hissed Corey, pulling at her.

Sadie wriggled her sore arm from Corey’s grasp, kept her head down and hurried after. Once well out of sight of the house, they stopped to catch their breath.

‘Come back with me a little while. You can get a proper wash, and I’ll make you a hot mash,’ Corey said.

‘No, I’ve told you. I’m going straight to Whitgift’s, to warn Ella. I can’t bear to think of them lying in wait for her. You know what they’ll do to her if
she’s caught.’

Corey pursed her lips. ‘Don’t be so hasty. You’re not thinking straight, you’ve got to be careful. Ella hasn’t been here for days, you said so yourself. And you
said she works evenings, so she’ll be busy till the end of the evening shift, anyhows.’

‘I can’t stay with you. ’Twould be a risk to your ma and the littlies. No, I’ll be off to Westmorland soon as I’ve seen Ella.’

Corey set her mouth in a stubborn line. ‘You’re going nowhere till we’ve a proper plan. If you get arrested it’ll do neither of you no good. Come on now. Let’s work
out how to get you into Whitgift’s. A few hours won’t make no difference. I’m not after losing you for the sake of that flibbertigibbet.’

‘Oh, Corey.’ Sadie put her arms round her friend and hugged her tight.

When evening came, Ella could not sleep, but sat upright shivering in her bed fully dressed, listening to the sounds in the yard outside. Jay’s man was still on guard. It
was as if she had been living on the edge of a precipice for ever, any slight noise made her jump, and whenever the dogs barked it made her breathless with fear. The noise reminded her of the
Netherbarrow Hunt. Those were the sounds the dogs made going in for the kill. Death was coming closer, she could feel it, almost as if the Reaper was standing right behind her, his cold breath on
her neck. She shuddered and lit a candle, sat holding it for comfort and warmth until the light of dawn cast its pale glow in the sky.

In the morning she heard the noise of a wagon, then the Lily’s door open. She hurried to the landing terrified it might be Jay Whitgift or the constable come for her. But it was Polly and
Meg. They scuttled in wrapped up in mufflers and hoods; just like any other day they had come for the crates of potions they needed for the Frost Fair. Neither of them spoke, just passed with their
heads down, as if she did not exist. When Polly was on her way out, Ella beckoned furiously to Meg. Meg hesitated, a box of violet comfits balanced precariously on top of another box.

‘Meg,’ she whispered shakily, ‘go ask if Dennis is back today. And if he is, tell him to come, it’s urgent.’

‘You’m not allowed, Sir said.’

‘Please, Meg?’

‘I’ll tell Sir. He’s just outside. He said to tell if you went anywhere.’

‘Well, I’m not going anywhere, am I? I just want a word with Dennis.’ Ella looked at Meg’s pouting face. ‘Look, I know I haven’t been right kind to you, but
please – go and see if he’s there.’

Meg pressed her lips mutinously together, shook her head and set off towards the door, just as Polly came back in for another load.

After Polly had gone, Meg’s face came round the door again.

‘He’s not turned in, so there,’ she hissed, plainly enjoying it. ‘And there won’t half be trouble when he do. He’ll get the push. There’s a mighty queue
and Mr Whitgift’s hopping mad.’

The door shut and she heard the key turn, shortly followed by the noise of hoofbeats and wheels turning. Dennis had been her only hope of getting word to Sadie. She was running out of time. No
opportunity had come for her to get away, it was hopeless. Her breath steamed before her, for no one had lit a fire today. She was all gooseflesh, and her shoulders tightened as she folded her
hands under her arms to keep warm. But she was glad to suffer it. It brought her closer to Sadie.

About midday she heard a noise from the back of the shop, as if something was falling. It made her startle for she had been alone with her own thoughts for so long. She leapt
up, but could not see that anything had moved – the displays were exactly the same. She prowled round the shop looking for the cause of the noise and was just about to sit down when she heard
it again. She felt a slight draught, and turned to see one of the shutters at the tiny trap window was open.

She hurried to the back of the shop. Two stones lay on the flagged floor. As she watched another came through and rattled towards her feet. She tiptoed cautiously over, and gently pushed the
other shutter open. There was just room for her to look through if she stood on tiptoe. On the other side she could see Dennis, looking anxiously from side to side, his cap in his hand, his face
wet with perspiration.

‘What’s going on?’ he hissed. ‘Why’s Lutch sat outside the door? Do they know?’

She nodded and began to speak, but he was already talking.

‘I guessed as much. Is she there then?’ His eyes searched hers.

She hardly heard him. ‘Dennis, Sadie’s locked in her room.’ She spoke quickly, not knowing how much time she might have, thrusting the key to their lodgings through the tiny
window. ‘Please, take some food and water and tell her she’s to get out of London. Jay Whitgift knows who I am and he’s going to hand me over to Ibbetson.’

‘That’s just it,’ said Dennis in a low voice, ‘I can’t. I don’t know where she is.’

‘What do you mean?’

He looked from side to side again, before replying, ‘When I got back home last night from my auntie’s, there was a constable waiting upstairs, and no sign of Sadie. She must have
known they were coming and scarpered.’

Ella could not take it in. ‘She can’t have done,’ she whispered, ‘the door was locked.’

‘I don’t know about that – all I know is, when I got back from Auntie’s to fetch Ma’s things, the whole bloody house was open. There was a man waiting for me, and
he kept me all this morning asking questions.’

‘What did you tell him?’

Dennis raised his eyes to the sky. ‘Naught of course. Said there was a girl living there but I didn’t know where she worked. They asked if she had anything that marked her out and I
kept lying and telling them no, and it’s God’s truth anyway, I don’t hardly notice it . . .’ He looked sheepish, and twisted his cap in his hands. ‘Sorry,’ he
said again, ‘Lord knows, I held out for you as much as I could.’

‘But where is she? You sure she’s not been taken?’

‘No. They were still looking. Kept asking me where she might go. Whether she had family and that. There’s a big bruiser of a man posted in her room in case she goes back. But I felt
sure she would’ve come here, somehow.’

‘Oh my Lord, I’ve not seen hide nor hair of her.’ She gripped Dennis’s hand where it lay on the sill. ‘She won’t last two minutes with everyone out looking
for her. And she mustn’t come here –’ Ella’s voice cracked. Dennis wriggled his arm free. ‘Please, Dennis, say you’ll look for her.’

She saw conflicting emotions pass over his face like waves on a beach. ‘I can’t . . . I’ve got to go back to Ma, she’s right badly—’ He stopped mid-sentence.
‘Oh my word, someone’s coming. Sorry, but I can’t. Sorry, Ella.’

She heard Foxall’s voice saying, ‘All right?’ and Dennis replying casually, ‘Jay told me to check the Lily’s secure,’ and the trap window banged shut.

Ella went stiffly to the counter. Her eyes were dry, the layer of paint seemed to be holding her together. Where was Sadie? The great wooden-headed dolt. How had she opened the door? And where
could she have gone? She pictured her running, her hair streaming behind her, spindly ankles above her heavy clogs, the way she used to run across the barley fields at home. But that was in
Netherbarrow. She couldn’t run like that here, not in London, where every step was over a slick of icy cobbles.

Pray God she had the sense to get out of the city. She was dog’s fodder here. They’d soon pick her up and she’d be done for. She wouldn’t have gone back to Pa, would she?
He’d get the strap to her, hand her in if he thought it would buy him more ale. A great shiver rippled up her back, a mingling of love and fear. She felt the blood connection, an instinct
that knew more than she could put into words. ‘Dear Lord,’ she prayed, ‘let her be safe.’