The Penmaker's Wife

by Steve Robinson

  As the fish course ended and the servants cleared away the plates, William sat back and drew a long breath. He had a quizzical expression on his face as he looked first at Effie, and then at Angelica. ‘You two seem very conspiratorial this evening,’ he said, his eyes narrowing further. ‘What’s going on? What’s all the excitement about?’

  Effie giggled for the umpteenth time that evening and just stared at Angelica, as if waiting for her to explain why she was in such high spirits, and why they had been whispering to one another since their soup bowls had been set in front of them.

  Angelica raised a glass of wine to her lips and took a sip, taking her time to answer. ‘I was going to tell you after dinner,’ she said, ‘but I suppose the cat is now out of the bag.’ She took another sip of wine, this time lingering over the finish longer than William seemed to care for.

  ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Are you going to tell me, or aren’t you?’

  Louisa, who was sitting beside William, placed a hand on his arm. ‘Patience, William. All things come to those who wait.’

  On hearing that, Angelica had to smile to herself. Here was another of Louisa’s pithy moral expressions, plucked from the mouths of others or from the books and poems she had read, and through them she had once again revealed her naivety. To Angelica’s mind, all things came to those who waited, but only when they were prepared to apply their own influence on the situation. She had come to see Louisa as a young lady of little substance, but what did that matter when she would someday inherit her father’s half of what was already a very lucrative business?

  ‘We’re taking a little trip together,’ Angelica said, smiling at Effie, who was already smiling back at her, the excitement in her eyes almost palpable.

  ‘When?’ William demanded. ‘And where to, for that matter?’

  ‘We’re going to Brighton to visit Violet. You remember Violet, don’t you?’

  William raised his eyebrows. ‘How could I forget her? I killed her dog, remember?’

  ‘Nonsense, William. I’ve told you a hundred times that you mustn’t blame yourself for that. You made a mistake, that’s all. I thought you were over it.’

  ‘I am,’ William said with a sigh. ‘But why are you going to see her? I thought you hated her.’

  ‘I don’t hate her, William – it was years ago. We’re going by train in the morning. That’s why Effie’s staying with us tonight.’

  ‘As soon as that!’

  ‘You’ll be fine, William. I’m sorry I’ve not given you much notice, but I need to get away. Things have been very stressful since poor Stanley took ill.’ She paused and smiled at Louisa. ‘If you’d like to, Louisa, you can stay here with William while I’m away.’

  Louisa blushed at the thought. ‘I’m sure my father would disapprove.’

  ‘Your father need know only what you tell him,’ Angelica said with a wink that caused Louisa’s blush to rise further in her cheeks until she became quite red-faced. She looked down at her lap to hide her embarrassment. Then she glanced sheepishly at William.

  ‘Mother!’ William said. ‘You know full well how inappropriate it would be to have Louisa stay here in your absence, whether her father knows about it or not.’

  ‘It was just a thought, William,’ Angelica said. ‘Someone to keep you company in the evenings, that’s all.’ She considered, somewhat wildly, that it would certainly help to speed their marriage along if Louisa were to fall pregnant. ‘I’m just saying that I don’t mind. Stay or don’t stay, Louisa. It’s entirely up to you.’

  The meat course arrived, breaking the tension as the filet de bœuf à la Pompadour was served, and Angelica did not need the ensuing silence to tell her that she had perhaps gone too far with her marital machinations. It was an unnecessary suggestion anyway. It was plain to see that Louisa was now as smitten with William as she had once been with Alexander, and there was no doubt in Angelica’s mind that William returned her affections. He had but to ask for her hand in marriage and she would surely give it, but there was no immediate rush. It could wait until her business with Jack Hardy was resolved.

  Jack Hardy . . .

  Would the wretched man not give up his quest to uncover her secrets and ruin her? According to the latest information she had received from Gentleman John two nights ago at the Anchor Inn, he most certainly would not. Their conversation was still playing on her mind.

  ‘Well, what news do you have?’ she had asked as they sat in their usual corner of the pub, which was busy enough that night to drown out their discourse. After several fruitless visits and as many sleepless nights, wondering when Gentleman John would show up again, she had become impatient to see him and hear his report.

  Gentleman John had barely had time to sit down. He removed his top hat with one hand as he did so, and with the other he flicked his coat tails out in a flamboyant manner, as if to suggest that his answer would not be rushed.

  ‘As I’m sure you have by now gathered,’ he said, loosening his collar as he made himself more comfortable, ‘I observed little of note from Mr H for several days.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Angelica said, her impatience frustrating her. ‘Get to the point of the matter.’

  ‘Very well. This afternoon, I followed Mr H back to Hurst Street. This time I remained close to him as he strolled beneath the arch, as silent as his own shadow.’

  ‘And did you see which door he knocked on this time?’

  ‘I did, and when he left again, he had a smile on his face as wide as the moon. The door he knocked on was that of Mathias Pool, whom you will surely recall provides services in the fields of heraldic and genealogical studies.’

  ‘I knew it,’ Angelica said, her pulse quickening. She recalled Mathias Pool’s profession very well. It was that which had so troubled her sleep since first seeing his plaque on the wall.

  ‘I stayed with him,’ Gentleman John said. ‘From Hurst Street I followed him along Hill Street, all the way to the train station at New Street, where I watched him buy a ticket.’

  ‘Where to?’ Angelica asked, her concern growing with every word Gentleman John spoke. Clearly Hardy had received information from Pool, information that had taken him over a week to obtain. Now Hardy was making travel arrangements. She feared she already knew where Hardy was going, but she wanted to hear Gentleman John say it, if only in the hope that he might prove her fears wrong.

  ‘London,’ Gentleman John said, and the word caused Angelica such pain it was as if he had thrust a dagger into her chest. ‘He has a ticket for Saturday morning.’

  London . . .

  Of course Jack Hardy was going to London. Where else would he find the answers he was looking for? Where else would he find the tools with which to bury her?

  Gentleman John began tapping his fingernails on the table, as if something were vexing him. ‘Mr H looked at me rather suspiciously as I listened in on his conversation with the ticket seller,’ he said. ‘I think he must have recognised me from the arch at Hurst Street earlier. I managed to follow him home again unseen, and I waited until it was dark, to be sure he didn’t go out again, but I’m not sure how much use I can be to you now.’

  Angelica drew a deep breath and sighed. ‘You’ve been very useful,’ she said, removing her glove as she had the night she first met Gentleman John. From within it, she produced the remainder of his payment. ‘An extra half sovereign for your shoe leather,’ she said as she slid the coins across the table. ‘Buy yourself a new pair.’ And with that, Angelica had left, knowing all she needed to know, leaving only the matter of what to do about it.

  What to do about it indeed?

  She was still pondering the question now, but the silence in the dining room was becoming tedious. She turned to Effie and grinned. ‘I have another little surprise this evening,’ she said. ‘This one’s for you, if you can withstand any more excitement.’

  ‘I really don’t know that I can,’ Effie said. ‘Taking the train to the seaside with you, and visiting Violet, of cours
e, was surprise enough when you first told me.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d better not say then.’

  ‘Don’t be mean, Mother,’ William said. ‘Now we all want to hear what it is.’

  ‘Very well,’ Angelica said, ‘we’re breaking our sojourn to the seaside and staying in London for a night or two. While we’re there I thought we could see some of the sights, and on top of that I have the best surprise of all.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps I should tell you after dinner so your excitement doesn’t overflow and ruin your appetite.’

  Effie jiggled in her seat. ‘It’s already ruined. Now do stop teasing and tell me, please!’

  Angelica’s eyes widened as she looked into Effie’s. ‘When we first met, you said how much you loved the opera, so that’s what we’re going to do.’

  Beyond the rented room Effie kept for them in town, Angelica had not heard her squeal with such delight. ‘We’re going to see an opera together?’ she said, as if unable to believe it. ‘Where? The summer season at the Royal Opera House has finished and the winter season has not yet begun.’

  ‘In London there is always opera,’ Angelica said. ‘The D’Oyly Carte Opera Company at the Savoy Theatre are performing Gilbert and Sullivan’s new comic opera, Utopia, Limited, also known as The Flowers of Progress.’

  Effie gasped and held her breath. Angelica thought she was about to cry; her eyes were so full of emotion. She let her breath go again and put her knife and fork down. ‘There,’ she said. ‘I positively can’t eat another mouthful.’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ Angelica said. ‘I should have held back the surprise until after dinner.’

  Effie shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to say. I know it’s early yet, but I think I just want to go to bed so the morning will arrive all the sooner.’

  Everyone laughed.

  ‘Have some dessert, at least,’ William said.

  ‘Yes, you must, Effie,’ Angelica agreed. ‘It’s one of your favourites – vanilla soufflé. Besides, I want to talk to you about the other sights we’re going to see while we’re in London.’

  ‘They could never eclipse the opera,’ Effie said.

  ‘I’m sure it’s going to be a wonderfully entertaining performance,’ Angelica replied, thinking it a pity she would have to miss it. Her thoughts drifted back to Jack Hardy again, as they so often did, and she imagined that her time in London was going to be far less agreeable than Effie’s.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Angelica hadn’t gone back to the train station at New Street since she had first arrived in Birmingham. Seeing it again now after so many years immediately rekindled unpleasant memories for her: the feigning of hers and William’s deaths, their flight from London. That was thirteen years ago, and yet it suddenly felt as if it were yesterday. As she and Effie followed their porter along the station platform, she pictured herself as she was back then, climbing down from one of the carriages with little William, while Tom Blanchard grappled for her arm, seizing it violently even before she had fully alighted from the train. She did not wish to go back to London, but unless she wanted to risk the return of those dark days – risk losing the life she had made for herself, and above all, for William – she knew she must.

  Jack Hardy could not succeed.

  A puff of steam sounded sharply from one of the locomotives on the other side of the platform, drawing Angelica’s attention back from her memories. She turned her head towards the sound and watched the white steam billow up into the arched iron framework, where it began to dissipate beneath the glass roof. She wondered whether Hardy was yet aboard their train to London, and the thought led her eyes back to the carriages beside her. She imagined he would be travelling in second, or perhaps even third class, but they had already passed the third-class carriages and she had seen nothing of him. He would surely not be in first class – at least she hoped not, or there would be a greater chance of him seeing her.

  They were halfway along the second-class carriages when Effie slowed down and began to hobble. ‘There’s something in my shoe,’ she said as she stopped altogether.

  ‘Porter! Please wait,’ Angelica called, and the porter, whom they had previously had difficulty keeping up with, stopped and frowned as he pulled out his pocket watch. ‘The train leaves in five minutes, madam.’

  ‘Effie, can you make it to our carriage?’ Angelica asked. ‘It’s not far, and we can better deal with it there. We don’t want to miss the train, do we?’

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ Effie said, her eyes filled with apology. ‘It’s really quite painful to walk on.’

  ‘I’ll help you take the weight off it. Hurry now, put your arm around my shoulders. That’s it.’

  They hobbled towards the first-class carriages, Angelica thinking that the last thing she wanted to do at that moment was to draw so much attention to herself. She began looking into the second-class carriage windows before quickly turning away again in case Hardy should see her. Then she looked back over her shoulder. There were plenty of people about, and no one stood out. Not at first. But then she saw him and caught her breath. There was Jack Hardy, a small case in one hand and a newspaper in the other. His step was brisk – too brisk for the slow progress she and Effie were making. In a matter of seconds he would reach them. Perhaps he would offer to help, thinking them strangers at first. He had only to pass them and look their way once to know it was her.

  ‘Faster, Effie, please,’ Angelica said, and Effie made greater effort, although it caused her to wince and yelp with every step, drawing more and more attention.

  Angelica chanced another quick look back, and this time Hardy was so close she could almost read the headlines on his newspaper. She turned her face towards Effie and bowed her head as she braced for the inevitable confrontation. As they reached the beginning of the first-class carriages, however, and nothing happened, she carefully glanced back again, just in time to see Hardy stepping up into one of the compartments in the second-class carriage they had just passed.

  ‘We’re nearly there, Effie,’ she said, seeing that the porter had stopped a little ahead of them and was taking their travel bags into one of the first-class carriages. ‘It’s probably just a small stone. That’s all it is. I really don’t know why you chose those dainty lace-up shoes over an honest pair of travelling boots.’

  ‘I’m wearing a new gown,’ Effie said, pulling her long coat aside to show the shimmering, heavy reddish-brown fabric. ‘I didn’t want to wear black boots with it, and the shoes match so well. It’s easy for you these days. You only ever seem to wear black.’

  They arrived beside the porter and Angelica tipped him. ‘Thank you,’ she said as they were both helped up into their compartment.

  The porter closed the door behind them with a thud that jarred Angelica’s already fragile nerves. ‘I see it’s one of the older trains,’ she said with a frown as she helped Effie with her shoe, at the same time taking in the dull mahogany woodwork and the faded blue upholstery. ‘I was hoping it might be one of the newer ones with a corridor and a toilet.’

  ‘At least we have the compartment to ourselves,’ Effie said.

  ‘Yes, for now, although I expect that will change when we make our first stop.’

  A shrill whistle sounded from somewhere out on the platform and the carriage shuddered as the locomotive let off its steam. Then, with a jolt, they were moving.

  ‘You’d better sit down with me before you fall down,’ Effie said.

  ‘I’ve almost got it,’ Angelica replied. ‘There it is,’ she added a moment later, holding up a sharp little stone no larger than a match head. ‘I’m afraid it’s made a hole in your stocking.’

  Effie smiled. ‘I have others with me, and we’re going to London, aren’t we? I’ll buy a very fine pair if we can find the time to go shopping.’

  ‘I’m sure we will,’ Angelica said. She sat down opposite Effie. ‘That’s if there’s time after visiting all the sights you’ve listed, not forgetting the opera this afternoo
n. Do you want your railway rug yet?’ She gestured at the rugs they had each rented from the station before they boarded.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Effie said. ‘It’s cold out, but it’s a lovely day. My gown is warm and the sunlight through the window should help to take the chill off.’ She smiled playfully at Angelica and stretched her stockinged foot across the space between them. She began to rub her toes against Angelica’s knees. ‘You do realise that when we’re speeding through the countryside, no one will be able to see us?’

  ‘It had crossed my mind,’ Angelica said, raising an eyebrow. ‘But we’ll have plenty of time for that once we’re in London.’

  ‘You’re no fun, Angelica,’ Effie said, pouting as she withdrew her foot. ‘At least help me on with my shoe, will you. I can’t even reach halfway in this corset.’

  Angelica slipped Effie’s shoe back on to her foot and tied the lace, and as she settled down for the journey her thoughts drifted to Jack Hardy again, and the reason she was really going to London. It was certainly not for fun. She had to find out exactly where Hardy was going, and to do that she supposed she would have to follow him, as Gentleman John had. But how could she hope to be successful with Effie at her side? Hardy would surely check in to a hotel, as they would, but how could she discover which hotel if she could not follow him?

  To her delight, the answer to her questions came to her more quickly than she expected. She did not have to follow Hardy, and neither did she have to know where he was staying. If she was right about his reason for visiting London then she knew exactly where he would go. All she had to do was go there and wait for him to come to her, and in doing so confirm her deepest, darkest fears.