by Dilly Court
He leaned from the saddle, staring at her. 'Rosie? Rosina May? Is it really you beneath that mantle of dirt?'
Chapter Twenty-two
'Harry?' Rosina peered up at him. She was so tired that it was difficult to focus her eyes, but she would have recognised that voice anywhere.
'By God, it is you.' Harry threw back his head and roared with laughter. 'You look like a blackamoor. Damn me, I never thought I'd live to see the day when pampered little Miss Fastidious looked like a chimneysweep's boy.'
'Go away, you brute. How dare you laugh at me? And whose fault is it that I am forced to earn my living in any way I can?'
'It is yours, my dear. You brought this on yourself by breaking off our engagement.'
'No, Harry. It is your fault for taking my home away from me, and for making false accusations against Walter. He is languishing in Newgate awaiting trial for a crime that he did not commit, and all because of you.'
'He is as guilty as sin, Rosie. Maybe he did not steal my mother's diamond ring, but I am certain that he was the pirate who chose to thieve from Barnum. I don't know what scores that fellow had to settle, but robbers become greedy, and it was only a matter of time before he turned his attention to our vessels.'
Shrugging her shoulders, Rosina started walking. She was too exhausted to stay and fight; she could see that it was useless anyway. Harry had his set ideas and nothing would make him change his mind.
'Rosie, wait.' Harry dismounted and followed her, leading his horse. 'I never meant you to sink so low.'
'You didn't care what happened to me. But I haven't sunk low, as you put it. I have my own business now, Harry.' She stopped, turning her head to look him in the eyes. 'There is money to be made from other people's rubbish, as you very well know. I may appear to be down at this moment, but I can assure you that I am on my way up.' She walked on.
He fell in step beside her. 'Gilks told me that he had entrusted a cargo to a slip of a girl. I had a feeling that it was you and I had to find out if it was true.'
'And your curiosity is satisfied. Now leave me alone.'
'George is a good friend of my father's. They were once partners, owning the same dust mound, but Gilks bought my father out when he decided to go into the provender business.'
'I really don't care, Harry.'
'I could put in a good word with Gilks. You could profit from my help.'
Rosina came to a halt, glaring at him. 'What? Are you feeling guilty? Look at me, Harry. I know how I must appear to you, but I am fine. Really I am. I don't need your help.'
He frowned. 'There must be something I can do to make your life easier. I am not a bad fellow, Rosie.'
'If you really and truly want to help me, Harry, go and make your peace with Sukey. Tell her the truth about the diamond ring, and have the charges dropped against Walter. I ask nothing for myself if you will do me that small service.'
'Do you care so much for the scribbling Pharisee?'
'I care about injustice. Now go on your way and leave me alone.'
'If I promise to make things right with Sukey, may I at least see you safely home?'
She did not want him to see the hovel in which they were forced to live, but she was too exhausted to argue. 'Please yourself, Harry. You always do.'
He followed her in silence. It was only a matter of minutes before they reached the wharf. Rosina stopped before they reached the boardwalk. 'You cannot bring your animal down here. I am safe now. You should go.'
Harry shook his head, tethering the horse to a lamp post. 'I said I will see you home, and I will.'
Shrugging her shoulders, Rosina trod the wooden walkway, stopping outside the shack. 'I am home.'
Harry pulled off his hat, holding it in his hands and staring incredulously at the rickety building. 'Good God! You can't live here. It's a hovel.'
Ronnie and Alfie burst out of the door, stopping when they saw Harry and clinging to Rosina's skirts. She laid her hands on their narrow shoulders. 'I'm home, boys. Go and tell Bertha that I'm here.' She shooed them back indoors, turning to Harry with a defiant toss of her head. 'This is my home now. It's humble, but it's clean and it's paid for by our hard work, me and Caddie. I see nothing to be ashamed of, so you can go away with a clear conscience. Just put things right with Sukey and then things will be even between us. Goodbye, Harry.' She turned from him and went into the shack.
George Gilks proved to be an exacting employer and the Ellie May was in port just long enough to be loaded and then unloaded at her destination. They worked turn and turn about, arriving back at Duke's Shore Wharf at all hours of the day and night according to the tides, and sailing again as soon as the next cargo of rubbish filled the hold. The only exception was Sunday, and on their first day off Rosina and Caddie slept on their straw-filled palliasses, oblivious to the incessant chattering of Ronnie and Alfie, or the occasional bouts of crying from Arthur. When she awakened, feeling surprisingly refreshed, Rosina dressed and took her cup of tea out onto the stoop where she could count her money uninterrupted by small boys. They were paid for each load and she divided the coins into four shares: one each for the three of them and one which she intended to save towards paying off the Gostellows' loan. Although the ship belonged to her, she could not in all conscience keep the major share, at least not yet. She was learning ship handling with every trip they made, but Pip was virtually the master of the Ellie May and without him she knew that they would be unable to work the vessel. She put the money back in her purse, staring ruefully at her calloused hands. The blisters had long since burst, and had eventually healed. Once these hands had been soft and white as the petals of a daisy – the hands of a lady – but now they were tanned by the sun and work-worn. She sighed and put the purse back in her reticule. At least they had food on the table now, and it was a proper table – they had chopped the old tea chest up for firewood. She had spotted the table on the pavement outside a second-hand furniture shop, and had purchased it with some of the money from her first voyage to the Medway. Bertha had gone to the same emporium and bargained hard for three wooden stools, so that now they could sit at the table like civilised human beings, instead of squatting on the floor like cannibals. Rosina smiled to herself; that was Bertha's description, not hers. If they could keep up this pace of work, it would not be long before they could afford to rent a couple of rooms in a proper house. The mere thought of a bathtub filled with hot water was like dreaming of heaven. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever be clean again. The luxurious bathroom in Roland's house seemed a million miles away. As to wearing clean linen and pretty clothes, Rosina sighed. She would have it all, one day. But Walter was still her main concern and she made up her mind to pay another visit to Septimus, to see if he had any news of the court case.
The Ellie May was due to sail on the morning tide, and Rosina came to the uncomfortable decision that Caddie and Pip would have to sail without her. For once there was something more important to her than earning money, and this was the day she had set aside for her visit to Naked Boy Yard.
She found Septimus sprawled in his chair, and for a horrible moment she thought that he was dead. His face was pale and unshaven and his mouth hung open, his chin resting on his chest. His clothes were dirty and he smelled almost as bad as the hold of the Ellie May. She approached him nervously and felt for a pulse in his neck, jumping backwards in alarm as he emitted an explosive snort that shook his whole body. He opened his eyes. 'Two ladies, come to visit me?'
With her fright turning to anger, Rosina shook him by the shoulders. 'Wake up, you drunken beast. It's me, Rosina May.'
'Who is the other girl, then?'
She went to the washstand, where she found a jug filled with cold water. It looked as though it had been there for some time: there was a skim of slime on the surface and tiny things swimming around like squiggling punctuation marks. She tipped the contents over his head. Spluttering and coughing, he shook the water from his eyes. 'I'm drowning.'
'You're
drunk.'
He peered at her through narrowed eyes. 'It is Miss May, isn't it?'
'At least you can just see one of me now. I need to talk to you urgently about Walter Brown. Do you remember him? He's in Newgate awaiting trial.'
He pressed his fingers into his temples. 'The name is familiar. May I have a moment to compose my thoughts?'
'No,' Rosina said firmly. He had closed his eyes and she was afraid that he was going to sink back into a drunken stupor. She hooked her hand through his arm, in an abortive effort to raise him to his feet. 'Get up, man. I'm taking you to a coffee house. Maybe I can get some sense out of you if you sober up a bit.'
Somehow, although she never knew quite how she managed it, Rosina got him out of the lodging house and along the street to an insalubrious-looking café, where she plied him with black coffee. It took some of her hard-earned pennies, but she considered it an investment. Having eaten two slices of toast and drunk several cups of coffee, he seemed relatively sober.
'Now, Septimus,' she said, leaning her elbows on the table and fixing him with a hard stare, 'can you remember going to see Walter in Newgate?'
He leaned back in his chair, taking a black cheroot from his breast pocket and lighting it. After a couple of puffs, he nodded his head. 'Ah, that's better. Yes, of course I remember seeing Mr Brown. He was a little suspicious at first, that is until I showed him the gold locket, and then he became more forthcoming.'
'And? What then? Is he well? How did he look to you?'
Septimus drew on the cheroot and blew a stream of smoke into the air above her head. 'He looked like a man who has spent several weeks in hell. But I will be defending him at his trial in two weeks' time.'
'Two weeks? His trial is in two weeks?'
'Yes, didn't I mention it before? Fortunately for Mr Brown the case against him is for the theft of the diamond ring. It would appear that Captain Barnum has not so far produced enough evidence to warrant a charge of piracy.'
Rosina leapt to her feet. 'Septimus, you are impossible. How could you not tell me something so important? Have you gathered any evidence that will clear him? Have you spoken to Sukey – I mean, Susan Barnum? Or been in touch with Mr Roland Rivers?'
'No, but I will. All in good time, dear lady.'
She threw up her hands in disgust. 'I trusted you, and you pickled yourself in brandy. How could you?'
'Very easily.
'Well, no more. You are not to touch a drop until Walter is free. Do you understand me?'
'I do, but I can't promise anything. You see, brandy is my friend. It comforts me when I am sad and lonely.'
'You won't have time to be sad and lonely. I will make sure of that.' Rosina picked up his hat and thrust it into his hands. 'Come with me. We'll make a start on the case together. I will keep you company today, not Mistress Brandy.'
'Where are we going?' Septimus demanded as she dragged him by the hand out of the café and through the narrow streets until they came to a cab stand. 'Eastcheap, cabby,' she said, climbing into the waiting hansom cab. 'Come along, Septimus. We're going to Roland's place of business.'
He clambered in and sat down beside her. 'My head aches, Miss May. This is not a good idea.'
'Never mind your head. We'll stop at the chemist's shop later and get you some seltzer, but first I want to find out if Roland is still in Rotterdam. If he is then we will send him a telegraph, asking him to come home for the trial. He need not fear a breach of promise suit now. At least, I hope that I have sorted the matter with Sukey, even if she did find it hard to take.'
'Breach of promise? You are making my head spin.'
She smiled. 'Never mind; that doesn't concern you. We must gather all the witnesses we can to speak up for Walter. I will help you, Septimus. All you have to do is to keep off the drink.'
As they entered the imposing portals of Rivers and Son, Importers and Exporters, Rosina realised that they must present a strange picture. She was dressed in her yellow gown and wearing a second-hand straw bonnet that she had purchased in a dolly shop near Etheredge's Wharf. She had also bought a pair of black lace mittens, to disguise her calloused hands; the moth holes were not too noticeable, unless someone took a close look at them. She had taken Septimus to a barber's shop and he was clean shaven now, with his hair brushed tidily back from his high forehead. She could do little about his clothes, but she had to admit that he carried himself like a gentleman and spoke like one too: in fact, when he was sober she could see that Septimus Sumption might actually be a good lawyer. On making enquiries of a slightly supercilious clerk, she discovered that Roland was still abroad and not expected back in the near future. She had to be content with that, and they made their way next to the telegraph office in Lower Thames Street where she sent an urgent message to Roland, begging him to come home and stand witness.
'Well, now,' Septimus said, holding the door open for her. 'You have done most of my work for me. I'll bid you good day.'
'Oh, no you don't.' Rosina caught him by the hand. 'I'm sorry, but I don't trust you to keep to your word once you are back in your horrible room. I have an idea where you could stay, if my friends will be so kind as to put you up until the trial.'
'No, really, I must protest.'
'If you want to get paid for your services, and to further your career, then I suggest you do as I say.'
Reluctantly, he allowed her to take him to Black Eagle Wharf. It was a long walk, but the weather was cool and dry, and Rosina did not want to waste any more of her money on a cab. She left him outside Sam's shop, while she went in to enquire about the children's health and to discuss the possibility of the Smilies taking a paying guest for the two weeks leading up to the trial. Sam said that the danger was past, and the boys were recovering nicely. He told her that he would do anything to help young Walter, who was a decent fellow, but he had to ask Gladys first. At his call, she came hurrying from the parlour to greet Rosina as if she were a long-lost daughter, demanding to be told everything that had happened to them all since they had left Black Eagle Wharf. When Rosina finally brought Septimus into the shop, she could see that he was going out of his way to be charming, and that this was having the desired effect on Gladys, whose motherly instincts were instantly aroused. She hustled him off into the kitchen to make him a pot of tea, and Rosina was left with Sam. 'He must be kept sober,' she whispered. 'Don't allow him near a brandy bottle, or Walter's case will be lost. Give him as many cigars as he wants, and I will find a way to repay you, even if I have to haul rubbish for the rest of my life.'
Sam patted her on the shoulder. 'Don't worry, Rosie. We could do with the extra money, and we'll look after the young fellow. I can see that my Glad has taken a real shine to him. Wouldn't surprise me if she didn't get him spruced up like a real gent afore the week is out.'
Rosina kissed his leathery cheek, thanked him once again and hurried out of the shop. She had not gone more than a couple of yards when she saw Harry strolling along the wharf with, of all people, Sukey leaning on his arm. Rosina dodged into a doorway, not wanting to be seen. She would have loved to rush up to Sukey and give her a hug, but she was unsure of her reception. It was enough for now to see that she was on good terms with Harry. He had promised to tell her the truth about the ring, and she could only hope that he had kept his word. As she merged into the shadows, Rosina watched them walk past her, laughing and chatting like old friends. Well, she thought, Sukey had always had a fancy for Harry: she had yearned for a rich husband, and maybe they were meant for each other. She set off for home with a lighter step and a glimmer of hope in her heart.