The Ragged Heiress (37 page)

‘Wake up, Lennie. I’ve got some good news at last.’

He opened his eyes, staring at her blearily as he raised himself on one elbow. ‘I weren’t asleep, honest. I was just resting me eyes.’

She smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter. You need your rest and I’ll soon get the fire going. I’ve found a job and my new employer gave me an advance. We’ll have a cup of tea as soon as the kettle boils, and there is bread and cheese for supper.’

Guthrie sat up, rubbing his eyes. ‘I dunno why you’re so good to me, Lucy. I ain’t forgot that we held you prisoner in this very room.’

‘And I haven’t forgotten how you helped me to escape from Stranks. We’re friends now and we look after each other.’ She gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder before turning her attention to the serious business of relighting the fire. It had not gone out
completely and she added the last few lumps of coal, fanning it into flame with a pair of bellows that Guthrie had rescued from a rubbish heap. She placed the kettle on the hob. ‘There, we’ll have a nice hot cup of tea in no time at all.’

Guthrie sat watching her as she sliced the loaf and cut slivers of Cheddar cheese to make a sandwich.

‘I got to find work too,’ he said slowly. ‘You wasn’t brung up to toil like a common person. You should be one of them ladies walking round with a maid at her beck and call. It ain’t right that you have to keep me.’

‘You have to get that leg better first. Tomorrow is your appointment at the hospital, but I’ll be at work so you will have to go on your own. You will go, won’t you?’ She handed him the sandwich, eyeing him anxiously as he stuffed the food into his mouth.

He nodded his head.

Lucetta was not convinced. ‘I want you to promise me that you’ll see the doctor, Lennie. He’ll give you some more dressings and make certain that you are on the road to recovery. It’s very important that you see him.’

‘I will,’ Guthrie mumbled through a mouthful of bread and cheese. ‘Is the kettle boiling yet, Lucy? I’m thirsty.’

She made the tea and gave him a cup of the strong brew laced with sugar. ‘You didn’t promise. I want to hear it from you or I won’t be able to start work and I’ll lose my position. We’ll be right back where we started.’

Guthrie sipped the tea with a beatific look on his face. ‘It’s sweet. Ta, Lucy. You’re an angel from heaven.’

‘Lennie,’ she said sternly.

‘I promise,’ he muttered into his cup. ‘I’ll go and see the sawbones, but if he says he wants to chop me leg off …’

‘I’m sure it won’t come to that. I expect the doctor will be very pleased with you for being such a good patient.’ She perched on the stool at the table and ate her sandwich in silence. She had done all she could to keep Guthrie’s wound free from further infection and it seemed to be healing well. If she told the truth she was relieved that she could not attend the hospital with Guthrie. She did not want to risk seeing Dr Richards again in case he started asking questions about her time in the fever hospital. If his curiosity got the better of him and he contacted Giles, the whole story would come out and Giles might try to find her again. That was the last thing she wanted.

‘Can I have another cup of tea?’ Guthrie asked plaintively. ‘Is there enough in the pot?’

Lucetta left for work early next morning having extracted another faithful promise from Guthrie that he would attend the hospital. It was a chilly day for late August and there was a hint of autumn in the air as she walked briskly towards Wapping. She could feel the cold stone pavements through the thin soles of her boots and she was thankful that it was dry underfoot, but at least she was clean and tidy in her new skirt and blouse. She had knotted her hair into a heavy coil
at the back of her head and she hoped that she looked like an efficient secretary. Jeremiah would never associate the prim Miss Guthrie with the schoolgirl cousin he had treated with such arrogant contempt.

She arrived early at the warehouse and Perks greeted her with a watery smile. He showed her to a dark, windowless cubby-hole behind the main office, lodged between a mountain of sandalwood chests and a wall comprised of teakwood cabinets and wardrobes. The fragrant aromas of Asia and the Far East mingled with dust and the smell of coal gas from the light above her head and she felt quite at home as she set about tidying the jumble of papers on Jeremiah’s desk and sorting them into order. She had spent many hours here as a child and she knew her father’s filing system off by heart, although the whole thing seemed to have slipped into a terrible muddle since his demise. She found unpaid bills and accounts long overdue all muddled up together. It did not take her long to realise that there was a small fortune in outstanding debts waiting to be collected and an almost equally large amount due in remittances to the Gaslight and Coke Company as well as suppliers and shippers.

By the time Jeremiah arrived she had made a good start and created a semblance of order out of utter chaos. He eyed her suspiciously. ‘I hope you haven’t muddled everything up, Miss Guthrie. I will hold you personally to account if anything goes missing.’

She bit back a sharp retort. ‘I think you will find everything to your liking, Mr Froy.’

‘Yes, well – carry on then. I have to go out this
morning but Perks knows my routine. Ask him if you need any help.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Lucetta kept her head bowed over her work. She did not think he would recognise her, but it was not a chance she was prepared to take. Melting into the background was the safest option.

‘I will probably have a letter or two to write after luncheon.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Lucetta murmured, flicking him a sideways glance. Jeremiah might be wearing a suit tailored in Savile Row, but the fashionable low-cut black jacket and pin-stripe trousers did little to disguise his corpulent figure. He was not quite twenty-three but his body was that of a man of middle years. Peering over the starched edge of a wing-back collar, he looked like a chubby boy masquerading in his father’s clothes.

He swaggered out into the main body of the warehouse, shouting instructions at the men and threatening them with dire consequences if he discovered anyone slacking. He continued this tirade for several minutes, peppering his comments with expletives that made the colour rise to Lucetta’s cheek. She was certain that her father had never spoken to his workers in such a blustering, bullying manner, and by the time Jeremiah had finished she felt almost ashamed to bear the name of Froy. He strode into the outer office, shouting to Perks to find him a cab.

He was gone and the warehousemen resumed their work in gloomy silence. Lucetta settled down to work. It took her all morning to sort the documents and the best part of the afternoon to write lists of debtors and
creditors. Jeremiah did not put in an appearance until it was almost time to finish for the day and he came in reeking of garlic and brandy. He glanced at the newly tidied desk and shrugged his shoulders.

‘The correspondence can wait until morning, but I expect you to stay tonight until all that paperwork is filed away. I can’t allow my standards to slip just because you are new at the job.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Lucetta said, forcing herself to sound meek. ‘Of course.’

‘I’m off home then. Be on time tomorrow morning, Miss Froy.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Lucetta bowed her head over her work, sighing with relief when the door closed on her cousin.

At seven o’clock Perks put his head round the door. ‘I’m going to lock up now, miss.’

‘I haven’t quite finished, Mr Perks.’

He pulled his cap on and grinned. ‘There’s always tomorrow, miss. And Sir won’t be in until late. I happen to know he’s got a dinner party to go to tonight, so we won’t see hide nor hair of him until noon at the earliest. The lads have all gone home and I can’t lock up with you still here.’

Lucetta stood up and reached for her shawl. She had been receiving wary glances from the warehousemen and none of them had spoken to her. She had heard them muttering to each other and it was not hard to guess their topic of conversation. She could only think that they suspected her of being hired to spy on them. Perks was the only one who treated her like an ordinary human being. Setting her bonnet on her head,
she followed him into the office. ‘Goodnight, Mr Perks. I’ll see you in the morning.’

He closed the inner door and locked it. ‘If that’s the case, miss, I’ll be richer by threepence.’

She glanced over her shoulder. ‘How so, Mr Perks?’

He flushed and looked down at his shoes. ‘Er, the men in the warehouse have a bet running that you won’t turn up tomorrow.’

She eyed him curiously. ‘And what did you bet?’

‘I said you’d be back, miss. I seen the look in your eyes when you first come through that door. I know pluck when I sees it.’

Lucetta nodded her head. ‘And you’re right, Mr Perks. You’ll be richer by threepence in the morning.’

She returned to work the next day and the next. At the end of the first week when Jeremiah handed out the wages he was forced to admit that she was doing well. He said, rather grudgingly, that she could stay in the company’s employ until his father returned from abroad. Lucetta was relieved to discover that Bradley Froy was not expected to return to London for another six months and maybe longer. He would recognise her for certain, but at least she had employment until that time, and she was beginning to enjoy her work. Sorting out the paperwork was a challenge in itself, and although she had never been particularly good at anything at school she found to her surprise that she had a good head for business.

Within a fortnight she had written to all their debtors and Perks was only too happy to tell her that most of
them had actually paid up. By the end of her first month Lucetta had paid off the creditors and a fortnight before Christmas she had balanced the books. Jeremiah was so pleased that he had been moved to give her a bonus, which she used to pay a month’s rent in advance on a one up, one down cottage in Samson’s Gardens, a narrow road off Great Hermitage Street. Despite its rural name there was nothing green and pleasant about Samson’s Gardens. There might once have been a flourishing market garden on the site but the only greenery to be seen now was the slime in the gutters and the occasional sooty dandelion that poked its head up between the cracks in the paving stones.

Lucetta and Guthrie moved their few possessions into the empty house just a few days before Christmas. Guthrie’s leg had healed almost completely thanks to the treatment he received at Bart’s, and he had found occasional labouring work on the wharves or in the docks. In between jobs he scoured the street markets and second-hand shops while Lucetta was at work, and when she came home she invariably found him scrubbing, sanding or repairing an item of furniture. His first contribution to their new home was a pair of beech-wood kitchen chairs which he had discovered in a second-hand shop in Redmead Lane; his next find was a deal table with one leg missing which he purchased for next to nothing in an auction house, and his most prized acquisition was a rusty iron bedstead that had been abandoned on the foreshore. It was in pieces and looked fit only for the dust heap, but Guthrie
spent many hours in the tiny back yard working on his project, which he said mysteriously would be shown to her when he had finished and not before.

It was not until she arrived home late on Christmas Eve that Guthrie revealed his secret. He sent her up the narrow staircase to her bedroom where she had been sleeping on one of the palliasses they had brought from Black Raven Court. On entering the room she held the candle up high and in its flickering light she saw to her amazement that the palliasse had been replaced by an iron bedstead, freshly painted black with gold knobs on the bed ends.

Guthrie had climbed the stairs behind her and he squeezed into the room. ‘I couldn’t get it done in time for your birthday, but it’s a Christmas present as well. So what do you think?

She turned to give him a hug. ‘Lennie, it’s the best present I’ve ever had.’ She sat down on the edge of the flock-filled mattress. It was hard and a bit lumpy but it was still a million times better than sleeping on the floor. ‘I haven’t slept in a proper bed since I left the Grange,’ she said, smiling. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘I done it all by myself,’ he said, grinning with pride like a small boy. ‘I mended it and polished it and painted it, just for you.’

‘It’s wonderful,’ Lucetta said sincerely. ‘You are clever, Lennie.’

Guthrie shuffled his feet and his thin cheeks flushed. ‘It must be hard for you living like this when you was used to fine things. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go back with that doctor fellow.’

‘What doctor fellow? What are you talking about, Lennie?’

‘I never told him where we was moving to, Lucy. I never said nothing about Samson’s Gardens nor about your working at Froy’s. I kept me trap shut and he went away.’

Lucetta stood up but her knees were trembling and she sat down again. ‘What doctor, Lennie?’

‘Said his name was Harcourt and he was a friend of Dr Richards at the hospital. It was that Richards cove what told him about you. I never said a word.’

‘When did you see him and where?’

‘He came to Black Raven Court the day before we left, but I never said nothing about coming here. I ain’t that stupid, Lucy.’

‘I was afraid this would happen,’ Lucetta said, rising a little unsteadily to her feet. ‘But it’s not your fault, Lennie,’ she added hastily, seeing his crestfallen expression. ‘There’s no way that Giles could find us here. We’ll forget all about him and enjoy our Christmas. I’ve got the whole day off tomorrow and I’ve saved enough money to buy us a fine goose with all the trimmings. We’ll have our first proper meal in our new house.’

Guthrie raised his head to look at her and a slow grin spread across his face. ‘If we go to Smithfield now we can get a bargain. They’ll be selling the last of the birds off cheap.’

‘We’ll take a cab there and back and we’ll buy a bottle of wine to drink with our Christmas dinner.’

Guthrie’s bottom lip trembled and he wiped his eyes
on his sleeve. ‘I never had a proper Christmas afore. It was gruel as usual in the workhouse and prison weren’t no better. I’ve had the best time of me life since you come to look after me. If you was me own daughter you couldn’t have done more for me.’