The Orphan's Dream (6 page)

Mrs James was up to her elbows in flour but she stopped rolling out the pastry to stare at Mirabel. ‘What a commotion you caused, miss. We thought that the mistress was going to have a seizure she carried on so, and those girls of hers were shouting and screaming fit to bust.'

‘Is Wiley in his room, Cook?'

‘Where else would he be when the master and mistress are out? That man is a drunken sot, but he gets away with it.'

‘I know he does, and I don't understand it any more than you do.' Mirabel moved to the range and lifted the lid on a large saucepan. ‘That smells delicious. I'll take a bowl up to my room, and some bread and butter.' She took a dish from the dresser and filled it with soup. ‘And I need some laudanum. Do you know where Mrs Cutler keeps it?'

‘Are you poorly, Miss Mirabel?'

‘It's nothing more than a headache. A couple of drops of laudanum will make it go away.'

‘Yes, miss, of course. I don't know if the mistress has any in her room. You could ask Flossie, she does the cleaning upstairs.'

‘I'll do that. Where is she now?'

‘I sent her out to get some onions from the market, but she should be back any minute, that's if she hasn't stopped to gossip with someone. She'll be the death of me.'

‘You manage magnificently,' Mirabel said, smiling. ‘And this soup will set me up for the rest of the day.'

‘I could put some dinner on a tray for you, miss. I daresay you won't be feeling up to taking your meal with the mistress and her hellcats. Begging your pardon, I shouldn't say such things, I know.'

‘It's the truth, Mrs James. You can't be blamed for speaking your mind, and dinner in my room would be just the thing.'

‘Flossie will bring it up to you.' Mrs James tapped the side of her nose and winked. ‘We got to stick together with that woman in charge.'

Mirabel put the bowl of soup on a tray, together with a chunk of bread and a pat of butter. ‘Will you send Flossie up with the slop bucket? I've emptied it but I need to take the pitcher of water up to my room.'

‘Yes, of course, miss.'

‘And if she can find the laudanum she could bring that too.'

‘I'll see that she does. It's a relief to know that you are on our side, Miss Mirabel, but I don't know how long I can stand working for that woman.'

Gertie responded quickly to the laudanum, giving Mirabel the opportunity to leave her, safe in the knowledge that she would sleep peacefully for a couple of hours. She slipped out of the house unnoticed and made her way to Crispin Street. With no particular plan in mind she had vague hopes of seeking help from Mrs Hamilton, who was well known for her charitable works. Mirabel did not think that Gertie's life hung in the balance; she would recover from her illness with good care, but keeping her hidden in the attic room was not an option. Sooner or later her presence would be discovered and Mirabel was under no illusions when it came to her stepmother. She was well aware that her days living under her father's roof were numbered. In defying Ernestine openly she had sealed her own fate.

She stopped outside the shabby building which housed the soup kitchen, staring up at the crudely painted sign offering a welcome to the poor and destitute. The main entrance was still locked and a queue of ragged people, including many children, stretched some way down the street. Mirabel let herself in at the side entrance.

‘
THERE YOU ARE,
Mirabel. We thought you weren't coming today.' Lillian Marjoribanks thrust an apron into Mirabel's hands and a welcoming smile brightened her flushed face. ‘You're just in time to help serve the hungry hordes.

‘I'm sorry I'm late. I was detained.' Mirabel looked round hopefully. ‘Is Mrs Hamilton in today?'

‘Not yet.' Lillian thrust a ladle into her hand. ‘They're opening the doors; get ready for the rush.'

Mirabel lifted the lid from the pan of soup and dipped the ladle, ready to serve the first person who shambled in from the street bringing with him the odours of the unwashed. They lined up, clutching their bowls, old and young alike, men, women and children all with one thing in common: the need to take nourishment or to face a slow and painful death by starvation. Mirabel had to wait until after the first rush had been served to continue the conversation. ‘Do you think that Mrs Hamilton will be in later?'

Lillian shook her head. ‘I don't know. She didn't say.' She shot a curious glance in Mirabel's direction. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?'

‘No, thank you.' Mirabel turned her attention to the next in line and found herself looking into Jack Starke's blue eyes. ‘Oh, it's you.'

‘Such an enthusiastic greeting,' he said, chuckling.

‘If you don't want soup you'd better make way for those who do.' She had not meant to be rude, but his unexpected arrival had thrown her into a state of confusion. ‘I'm sorry,' she added apologetically. ‘But as you can see I'm rather busy.'

‘We have a mutual friend, Miss Cutler. I came to enquire about her well-being.'

‘I really can't talk now. Please move on,' Mirabel said in a low voice. She could feel Lillian's curious gaze boring into the back of her head.

‘I'm in no hurry. I'll wait until you've finished here.' Jack tipped his hat to Lillian, treating her to his most disarming smile.

Mirabel shot a sideways glance at her and saw that the older woman was blushing. ‘Have you no shame?' she murmured, trying not to laugh.

‘None at all.' Jack stood aside as an elderly man sidled up to the counter clutching a tin mug. ‘You have a customer, Miss Cutler.' He strolled off to sit at a table on the far side of the room.

Mirabel's hand shook as she served the soup. She was at a loss to understand why the sudden appearance of a man she barely knew could have such an effect on her, but she found her eyes drawn to him whenever there was a momentary lull. She forced herself to concentrate, breathing a sigh of relief when the session ended.

‘Your friend is still here,' Lillian said, jerking her head in Jack's direction. ‘I don't think he's the type of gentleman you ought to be associating with, Mirabel. If you know what I mean.'

‘No, I don't think I do, Mrs Marjoribanks.'

Lillian sucked in her cheeks and pursed her lips. ‘I believe he associates with fallen women. I'll say no more, but be careful, my dear.'

‘Thank you, ma'am. I'll bear that in mind.' Mirabel hurried over to the table where Jack was waiting for her. He was slouched in a chair with his feet up, and his hat pushed to the back of his head at a rakish angle. ‘I've just been warned against you,' she said, perching on a wooden bench opposite him. ‘Mrs Marjoribanks seems to think that I shouldn't associate with someone like you.'

‘And she's probably right in general, but I can assure you that you're quite safe with me.'

‘Oh!' She struggled to think of a suitable response, but the mocking gleam in his eyes made it difficult to think of a suitable reply and for once she was at a loss for words.

‘I was concerned about Bodger's sister, and I wondered how you were managing.'

‘It's difficult,' she admitted reluctantly. ‘I came here hoping to see Mrs Hamilton. I thought she might be able to give me some advice.'

‘I don't see what Adela could do to help.'

‘I thought perhaps she'd know of a charitable institution that would look after Gertie until she's well again. I don't think she's sick enough to go to hospital, but she mustn't go back to that awful room in Black Dog Alley.'

‘Now there I agree with you, and I think I might be able to help.'

‘You do?'

‘Don't look so surprised. I'm not all bad. What state is Gertie in now? Could she be moved?'

‘I dosed her with laudanum so she should still be asleep, but I must get back before she wakes. She might be scared and call out for me, and that would ruin everything.'

‘You haven't told your parents about her then?'

‘Good heavens, no. Pa might be all right with it but my stepmother would be furious. I really should be going.'

‘I'll accompany you.'

Seized by a feeling of panic at the thought of how Ernestine would react to a visit from Captain Jack Starke, Mirabel shook her head. ‘No, you won't. I mean, thank you, but that would only make things worse. Heaven knows what would happen if you were seen with me.'

‘My reputation must have gone ahead of me,' he said with a wry smile. ‘But you need to remove Gertie from your house and find her a safe haven where she'll be nursed back to health. Am I right?'

‘Yes, of course.'

‘Then I'll help you, but I'd best leave it until late this evening. I'll come when the servants have gone to bed and move Gertie to a place of safety. Do you agree?'

‘I suppose so,' she said doubtfully. ‘But where will you take her?'

‘You'll have to trust me, but I do know some kind-hearted people who wouldn't turn her away. I suppose I owe it to Boatswain Tinker to look after his little sister.'

‘You are a strange man,' Mirabel said, rising to her feet. ‘I never know whether you're serious or if you're laughing at me.'

He slid his feet to the ground and stood up. ‘I'm deadly serious at this moment, Miss Cutler. If you look out of your window at midnight you'll see me loitering beneath the street lamp, and if I'm seen people will simply assume that you have an admirer. Does that bother you?'

‘My stepmother would provide you with a ladder if she thought I was about to elope. She's already threatened to marry me off to anyone who'll have me.'

‘She sounds like a lovely lady. I can't wait to make her acquaintance.' He tipped his hat. ‘Until tonight, Miss Cutler.'

‘Thank you, Captain Starke. I'm truly grateful.'

‘That's quite all right, Miss Cutler, but in the circumstances I think we could drop the formalities. You may call me Jack if I'm allowed to call you Mirabel; it's such a pretty name.'

She turned her head away so that he could not see she was blushing. ‘All right, Jack. I'll see you at midnight.'

The house was in total silence except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the entrance hall, and the whirr followed by the booming chime on the hour. With her door slightly ajar Mirabel counted the strokes. Midnight – the witching hour. She shivered, but it was excitement and not fear that made her pulses race. She closed the door softly and hurried to the window, kneeling on the seat to throw up the sash and lean out. The gas lamp hanging from the adjacent house created a pool of sulphurous yellow light on the paving stones, but there was no sign of Captain Starke. A black and white cat strolled into view but something caused it to stop and arch its back before racing off into the darkness. And then she saw him.

Jack looked up and doffed his hat with a theatrical bow. ‘It's all a game to you, isn't it,' Mirabel muttered, torn between irritation and the desire to burst out laughing at his antics. She closed the window and crept out of her room, tiptoeing barefoot along the narrow corridor so that she did not disturb Cook or Flossie. She quickened her pace and hurried downstairs to admit Jack.

‘You came,' she whispered. ‘I wasn't sure you would.'

‘I'm a man of my word.'

‘We'll have to be very quiet.'

‘That goes without saying. Lead on and let's get this done.'

She picked up her skirts and headed for the stairs. ‘The fifth one up creaks if you step in the middle.'

‘I'll bear that in mind.'

Avoiding the tread that might give them away, Mirabel ran lightly up the stairs with Jack following close behind. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and caught the heady masculine scent of bay rum – crushed bay leaves, citrus, cinnamon and cloves – combined with a hint of Havana cigar smoke and the warm leather of his jacket. She had to take a deep breath in order to concentrate on the task in hand as she entered her room, acutely conscious of his presence in her own special place. The feeling that she had stepped into one of her dreams was overpowering, but this was real and a soft groan from the bed made her move to comfort Gertie. ‘It's all right. I'm here and so is Captain Starke. We're going to take you to a much nicer place where you'll be looked after until you're well again.'

Jack scooped Gertie up in his arms. ‘I've got a cab waiting in Seething Lane. I'll make sure she's all right, so don't worry about her.'

‘You're not thinking of going without me, are you?' Mirabel slipped her feet into her shoes and snatched up a shawl, draping it around her shoulders. ‘I want to see where you're taking her.'

He hesitated. ‘It's not the sort of place you'd want to go.'

‘I'm not sure I like that sound of that. I'm definitely coming with you.'

‘All right, if you must. The cab won't wait for ever so we'd best hurry.'

She followed him out of the room, pausing only to lock the door and put the key in her pocket.

The drive through the gas-lit streets was like entering the underworld. Mirabel had grown up in the city, but had never ventured out at this time of night. Inert bodies huddled in doorways, either asleep or dead drunk or even deceased, it was impossible to tell. Prostitutes lingered on street corners, offering their services to any man who passed their way, and quick couplings were taking place in the shadows. Mirabel knew these things happened, but rarely had she witnessed such an overt display of animal lust. Drunks fell out of the pubs along the way, some of them weaving their way homeward or back to their ships, while others were involved in brawls or were set upon by the gangs who roamed the streets on the lookout for the unwary, robbing them of everything they had, including their clothes. Mirabel turned her head away at the sight of a semi-naked man staggering along the pavement with blood oozing from cuts on his head and face. She shifted Gertie's head from her shoulder, cradling the sleeping girl in her arms. ‘This is a terrible place,' she whispered.