The Gilded Lily (50 page)

Sadie sat down, feeling for the wall with her back.

‘What time will they come for us?’

‘I don’t know. But you know this is the end, don’t you?’

Sadie did not answer.

‘We can still beat them though.’ Ella’s voice cut through the dark.

‘How? We’re locked in.’

‘This is the apothecary’s cupboard. There might be poisons on the shelf if we can find a light.’

‘How will we get them to take them?’

‘Not them, you goose. Us. We can take them. Then when they come back we’ll be dead.’

‘No!’ Sadie shouted, and scrambled back up to take hold of Ella by the shoulders. ‘Don’t dare say such a thing. It’s a mortal sin. We’re not doing
that.’

Sadie felt how thin Ella’s collarbones were. She felt limp, and she let Sadie shake her as if she was made of rags. In the dark her voice echoed strangely. ‘They’ll not let us
go. What’s the difference? Tonight, tomorrow? They’ll finish us anyway.’

‘We’re not giving up. We’ll pray, and maybe God will hear us and send us some help.’

‘God?’ Ella laughed, a brittle sound with no bubble of mirth. ‘God won’t hear me. I sent a woman to the gallows. I’m a sinner, Sadie. Evil through and through.
It’s the Devil wants me.’

Sadie pulled Ella close to her, hugging her to her chest. ‘You’re not. Don’t say that. It’s not true. You’re my own dear Ella.’

Ella pushed her away. Her voice was barely audible. ‘I’m not fit to be your sister. Do you want to know who I really am? It’s not a pretty tale. It was me sent poor Alice
Ibbetson to the gallows. Me, Sadie. I wanted to bed her husband, Thomas, get even somehow.’ She paused and sighed. ‘I don’t know, I thought if I could have what she had . . . the
poor wretch, I stole her husband from her. I hid it well enough, but I hated her – all her type.’

There was a silence. Sadie waited for her to speak more and when she did not, reached out to touch her, but again Ella brushed her away.

‘I worry I might not see Ma, if I go to the other place. She’s in heaven, I know.’ Sadie listened, straining to hear Ella’s voice, which was barely audible.
‘’Tis strange, but I still miss her, you know. You know they said I’d forget about it in time, how she died. But ’tis not a thing you forget. And I had only seven years of
her. I wanted to remember it all, every last thing, even that.’ A whisper. ‘Ma’s mistress never came, see. Left me waiting on the sands. The sands had caught her, Sadie, and I
didn’t know what to do, and Ma said to keep away, and the sea kept on coming –’

There was silence then in the room, except for Ella’s sobs.

‘What, Ella?’

‘I let her drown.’

Sadie could barely take it in. All those years, and Ella had never told anyone, bore the burden of it all by herself. Sadie reached for her hand and pressed it.

‘I should’ve done something.’ Ella’s voice was angry.

When Sadie finally spoke, she said, ‘But you were hardly seven year old, what could you do?’

‘Something. Anything.’ Ella’s voice broke up. ‘She was our lovely ma and I just stood there.’

‘Don’t. Whatever happened, it won’t bring her back, no use blaming nobody. You kept me going, with your talk of a fine life. When my back was black and blue, when the lads
taunted me, then it were your tales I remembered – how we’d sleep on satin and eat oysters and cream pie. I knew it was all just gab, but I couldn’t have borne it if I
didn’t think something better was coming.’

‘And look where I’ve led you. But I couldn’t leave you behind, could I? Not with Da strapping you every night.’

Sadie took hold of Ella round the waist. ‘You wanted to help me. You see, you’re not wicked, you’re kind. See, Ella.’ Ella did not speak, but Sadie could feel her ribs
start to shake with weeping.

‘I’m proud you came for me,’ Sadie said, ‘I couldn’t have stood it if you’d upped and gone without me, left me there with him. You were my hope. You did
right, we could have got away. You weren’t to know this would happen, it was a risk worth taking. And now, whatever happens, we’ve got each other.’

‘Tell her I’m sorry, won’t you, when you see her?’

‘If I can. Though sometimes I think ’tis all just a myth, made up to keep us all in line. And anyway, if there’s a heaven, then we’ll walk through them gates
together.’

‘Oh, Sadie, I treated you so bad. I got blinded by Whitgift’s. I was so selfish, I didn’t mean to . . .’

‘Hush, hush. Never mind, it’s all over now.’ Sadie patted Ella’s heaving back as if she were a child. ‘It’s done with, all that. We’ve got to live for
today. It might be the only day we’ve got left. Put your arms round me, come on now, hold me tight.’

Ella’s arms fastened around her neck and her head came onto Sadie’s shoulder. ‘I love you, Sadie, you’re the only one who really sees me.’ Sadie didn’t know
what she meant but her tears came too, they were tears of relief. Ella had told her the truth, and it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, the truth from Ella’s lips. They wept
together, clinging to each other.

Titus Ibbetson tossed and turned, unable to get back to sleep. The visions of the girls in the gaol would not leave him; stained and reddened faces with accusing eyes haunted
him. He had not known so many women with this kind of face existed. He had thought to look over one or two before finding the girl he sought. Now the figure had run into dozens.

He dragged the bed covers further up over his chin. He was cold despite asking the landlady for more woollen blankets, and then piling on his cloak and the sheepskin from beside the fire onto
his bed. He was surprised how much difference it made not having Isobel beside him for warmth. He climbed out of bed and went over to the dresser where the small sampler he had found in the
girls’ room lay next to his gloves and hat.

He picked it up and ran his thumbs over the stitches.
Sadie Apleb
y. It was odd to hold it in his hands. The refinement of it took his breath away, the stitches so neat and orderly, the
little flowers at the corners so finely executed. Like something a lady might make. It must have taken a deal of patience to make such a thing. Somehow he had never imagined that the girls who
robbed his brother could partake in such gentle pursuits. It was not finished yet – perhaps the girl had been making it when he arrived. The thought of her sewing made him drop it back on the
table, he did not want to be so near her hands.

He sighed and looked out of the window. The snow was softening in the street, stained yellow now from the frozen piss of horses and dogs. He thought of the girls’ lodgings. Although he
knew that people lived that way, it still surprised him to see such a grim place, bare as a board, with scarcely a stick of furniture and no glass at the window.

He was fascinated, though, to find a number of small items in the room, including several salves and pots and a bag printed by a proper press with
The Gilded Lily – Ladies’
Emporium
. Mercy Fletcher had told him the stall was situated inside Whitgift’s second-hand shop. He had been to Whitgift’s when he first came to London, but there had been no sign
of a ladies’ apothecary then.

So today he was going to go back to Whitgift’s yard. He might be able to trace the girls that way. It had become a matter of pride. He had been so long away, and what would he tell them
back home if he failed? He had never failed at anything in his life.

It was too cold to be in bed so he began to dress. His shirt was stiff, the leather of his boots still damp from walking in yesterday’s snow. He went to the window and looked out. No frost
today on the windows, so the thaw must be continuing, and indeed there seemed to be water dripping from the eaves of the house opposite. London itself was embroiled in a veil of fog. He sighed
again. It was hard enough to find anything, without this. Ten minutes later a carriage waited for him outside the hotel door.

‘Whitgift’s, Broken Wharf,’ he called to the driver.

There was the usual whirr of the pocket watches as Walt Whitgift and Nat Tindall puffed on their pipes in Walt’s office.

‘Have you heard? There’s been a riot, they’ve had to send in the king’s life guards,’ said Tindall, tapping his pipe with his thumb to settle the glowing tamp.

‘What’s it about then, this riot?’

‘Dissenters against the king – led by someone called Venner. Wild man he is, so they say, but there’s more than twenty dead on both sides. Imagine that. His head’s going
up on the bridge. Didn’t I tell you there’d be blood?’

‘You did. That strange dream you had – about the Thames turning red, and a mighty lightning bolt from heaven. Odds fish, you were right.’

‘These are curious times. It’s common knowledge in my business, that when the year can be reversed, then fortunes can turn on a horseshoe.’

‘Is that right?’

‘1661. The same writ backwards as forwards.’

‘Aah.’

‘Chance for Lucifer to push his nose in and turn things about. Shouldn’t be surprised if we don’t see more fighting before the month’s out.’

‘No, Nat, we’ll not go back to that. Funny, I was just thinking, my Jay’s had it easy. When I was his age I was fighting for the common man alongside most other young men my
age. And trying to set up shop here. Do you remember?’

‘Those were good times. The best times. Your Bessie was still alive then.’

‘Aye. She was a good lass.’ They sucked on their clay pipes, savouring their memories.

Walt withdrew one of several baize bags from the drawer and tipped out some signet rings, seals and cameos onto the desk. He bent to the task of pricing them up, pushing back the russet woollen
cap that kept his balding head warm.

Nat talked and talked. Often Nat’s words were about matters so arcane Walt could have no hope of understanding them, and they would drift past him so that later he would not be able to
remember a thing Nat had said. But he liked the noise of him in the background, and Nat always seemed to be glad to be in the warm office. Walt passed the price tickets to Nat to write. His
penmanship was far superior to his own, and it made the whole business companionable. Their quiet activity was broken by a loud clang from the St Stephen’s bell outside. The two men looked at
each other.

‘I’ll go. You carry on,’ Nat said.

A few moments later he was back with a dark-suited gentleman in tow.

‘Please sit down,’ Walt said.

‘I won’t, thank you.’ The man stood away from the chair as if it might contaminate him. He cleared his throat.

‘Who is in charge of the Gilded Lily Ladies’ Emporium?’

‘That’ll be my son. But it’s closed in the day while the Frost Fair’s on. They’ve got a stall there you see—’

‘You mean it’s shut now? There’s nobody there?’

‘All the serving girls are on the stall.’

‘Ever heard of two girls called Ella and Sadie Appleby?’

Walt and Nat looked at each other, raised their eyebrows and shook their heads. ‘No,’ Walt said. ‘Can’t say I have.’

The man blew out a long sigh. ‘I have an inventory here, of goods that were stolen from my late brother. They tell me at the inn that stolen goods are often sold forward here.’ He
emphasized ‘stolen goods’ as if it pained him to say the words. ‘My name’s Ibbetson. I want you to look at your records and see if any of them have come in.’

Walt sucked on his teeth and frowned. ‘We don’t deal in stolen goods here. Only honest transactions.’

‘They say you’re a pawnbroker.’

‘We are not averse to making a charitable loan if the person’s need is pressing.’

‘But you do have records of all your sales?’

‘Of course. It will take time. There’s a fee for this sort of thing. It’s my son who normally deals with those enquiries.’

‘I’ll make it worth your while if it can be done today.’

‘It depends. I’ll need dates and descriptions. I’ve no time today, maybe tomorrow.’

Ibbetson looked disgruntled. ‘But I have the list here, already prepared.’ He drew out a folded paper with two long columns of spiky writing and placed it facing Walt. He flattened
it out as if he would glue it to the desk.

Walt coughed, embarrassed. ‘Nat, I haven’t got my eyeglasses. Would you?’

Tindall picked up the list. ‘It is quite a comprehensive list.’

‘Do you want me to check each item?’ Walt asked.

‘That’s why I gave you the list,’ said Ibbetson, ignoring Tindall and prodding the paper with a well-manicured fingernail. ‘My brother was murdered, and his house turned
over. I don’t know what the world’s coming to – I can’t get justice from the law, they are taking for ever. These days you just can’t rely on them. And servants are
the same – if they’re not out to rob you, they’re witless, most of them.’

‘Shame,’ Nat said. ‘We’ll do what we can to help.’

‘When did it happen?’ Walt said.

‘October last year. Anything that’s come in since then.’

‘That’s a lot of work, we’ve dealt with scores of items since then. Nat, I think it would be best to fetch the right ledgers. We need Dennis here for this really, but I suppose
his ma’s still bad, poor lad. Ask the prentice, would you?’

Tindall duly went and fetched the apprentice, who lowered the pile of inventory books heavily onto the desk. They were grubby and stained and the edges of the papers were furred with use.