Mrs Horsefeather poked Ella with a finger. ‘Now give that table a dust, there is powder spilt all over it. And stop asking so many questions.’
But that’s the first question I’ve asked, thought Ella. She took up the duster though, noticing that even the duster was a proper feather duster and not just an old rag or bobbit of clothing.
When Mrs Horsefeather went outside to talk with Jay about arrangements for opening day, Ella could contain herself no longer. She gave a huge whoop of joy and hopped round the room in a mad May-dance. In and out of the tables and chairs set out ready for the customers she went, picking up her red silk skirts and swishing them over her knees, until when Mrs Horsefeather returned she was pink-cheeked and panting with it all.
‘You look a touch warm, Miss Johnson. It will not do. Mr Whitgift wants you to set an example. I suggest you take a few minutes to powder your nose.’ She held out a small box.
Ella took it. ‘Yes, Mrs Horsefeather,’ she said.
Ella held her breath as Jay Whitgift inspected the chambers, now laid out with every sort of skin balm, glaze and herbal comfit. After moving the belladonna phials into military ranks on the counter, he turned to smile. ‘Very good,’ he said, strolling again round the counters and the displays. ‘Tomorrow you will help Waley the apothecary in the back room with making up scented nosegays and salves. He will show you what to do.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Ella, dimpling at him.
‘If you’re all ready, I’ll get the bills printed up this afternoon,’ Jay said.
‘With what?’ A ragged-looking gentleman in a flapping coat had come in behind them.
Jay frowned. ‘Sorry, Tindall, gentlemen are not allowed in the Ladies’ Chambers. Except for the proprietor, of course.’
‘I know. But there’s no ladies come yet. And there is not much coinage in that name, as far as I can see.’
Jay stepped away from him as if he smelt bad. ‘Meaning?’
‘Well, you cannot make a sign out of that. The newer coffee houses all have lively signs, ones that will stand out, attract attention. Like the Pelican or the Dancing Bear. You need something auspicious, attractive to ladies, like a powder puff or a fan.’
‘I don’t see any reason to complicate it,’ Jay said. ‘It’s chambers where ladies will meet, so the Ladies’ Chambers is good enough. I’ll worry about the sign later.’
‘Well, mark my words, it will fail if it has no proper signage.’
‘I know what I’m doing, so I’ll thank you to mind your own business. Oh, I forgot, you don’t seem to have one.’
Tindall looked taken aback. Then he retorted, ‘Well, yours seems a damnified business anyway, selling such pap and palter.’ He picked up a creamware pot from the newly neatened pyramid and opened the lid to sniff at it. ‘What is it Shakespeare said? To gild gold and paint the lily is a waste of time. I might not know much, but I know this: beautiful women have no need of all this –’ here he held out the pot on his palm – ‘and ugly women, well, whatever they do, they will still be ugly. No point gilding the lily then, is there?’
‘At least my business is thriving, unlike . . .’ Jay let the words hang there.
‘Here, sir, I’ll take that,’ Ella said hurriedly, replacing the lid on the pot and putting it back on the pyramid. She wished Tindall would leave. There was an atmosphere in the room now, and she did not like him saying the shop might fail.
Tindall shook his head under his greasy felt hat. ‘Only trying to be helpful, my boy,’ he said, before turning on his heel and walking out.
Jay turned to Ella and Mrs Horsefeather. ‘The bills for Whitgift’s Ladies’ Chambers will be put out tomorrow,’ he snapped.
But when the bills came, they said, ‘Under the Sign of the Gilded Lily’, and when Ella next crossed the yard, there was the draughtsman drawing up a brand new sign with a golden flower in front of a red lace fan.
Chapter 13
Blackraven Alley
Sadie bent low over the table in the wavering shadow of a rushlight. She was darning her shawl again, using one of the wool fringes to mend a hole where she had caught it on a fencepost the day before. Her fingers were cold, the ends white and bloodless, for they had no wood. The bundle of faggots was finished yesterday. Last time she had gone to fetch wood she had scrabbled in the mud with the other scavengers for almost two hours, but gleaned only a small damp bundle of sticks and a few sackcloths fit for burning. It was hard to find enough fuel in the city, where there were no trees and there was no peat to be dug.
Smoke from other people’s fires seeped in through the walls, although the heat did not penetrate through the damp. It was a drizzly night and the walls sweated like cheese. Sadie pushed her hair out of her eyes, put the shawl down on the table and rubbed her hands over her cheeks to warm them.
She looked up at the window. The sacking that was tacked over it was not quite big enough and gaped open to the sky outside. It was dark and Ella was late home. She wondered how her sister had fared at Whitgift’s today. She seemed altogether taken with Jay Whitgift. It wasn’t good to wear your heart on your sleeve like that, it gave gentlemen ideas. Sadie remembered the last time she had seen such a look on Ella’s face. It was eighteen months ago, when she was describing Thomas Ibbetson’s house. She remembered Ella’s awed voice: ‘Feather quilts in glossy satin covers, and the blankets – soft as lambs’ tails, not like our thin rat-eared ones.’ Ella’s face had taken on the same rapt expression describing Jay Whitgift’s clothes: ‘Watered silk, Sadie, and cambric that fine you can see your hand through it.’
Sadie took up her needle and rethreaded it. The dreamy look she had seen on Ella’s face meant trouble. To her mind Jay Whitgift was altogether too well turned out – like a tailor’s dolly. When they had first arrived in London they had both chortled at the men in their ribands and bows and fancy curls, thinking it made them look like maids – funny how quickly she had got used to it. But Jay Whitgift’s clothes fitted tight, as if they’d been shrunk to him, and he was spotless, right up to his pheasant-feathered hat and right down to his silver-buckled shoes.
The downstairs door clicked shut. She stood up and brushed the loose threads from her sleeve. She hurried to the landing and peered over the banister.
‘Ella?’
It was not the top of Ella’s head she saw, but the brown felt hat of Dennis from downstairs, listening at his own front door. Just as she was about to go back inside, fearing he would think her nosy, he turned his face to look up and caught sight of her. She withdrew hastily and turned away.
‘Hang on,’ he said in a loud whisper.
Sadie waited.
‘Have you got a minute?’
She nodded, and he grinned broadly. He came up the stairs two at a time in a kind of lope so that he made no noise with his boots.
‘I think Ma’s asleep,’ he said, ‘so I’ve got a few minutes before I need to see to her.’ He had a large tied bundle with him, which he dumped on the landing at Sadie’s feet. ‘Last week’s wash – from the wash-house down the way,’ he said wryly, pointing.
‘Oh,’ Sadie said, uncertain whether it was a good idea to stand talking in the hall.
‘If you’ve got the rent, I’ll take it now,’ he said.
‘Oh, oh yes. Wait on.’ She went inside to fetch her purse, and when she could not see it on the kitchen table she shifted her shawl, feeling for it until it was in her hand. When she turned again she was surprised to find Dennis standing just behind her.
She took a step away. He had taken off his cap and was scratching his head and looking at the shawl on the table.
‘Blimey, that’s neat,’ he said, indicating the shawl with his head. ‘When my ma does darning it looks like a drunken spider’s made a web over the hole.’
‘My sister thinks it’s a fright and I should throw it away. Says it’s not worth mending, but I like it.’
‘It looks warm, that,’ Dennis said. ‘No point buying new if you can mend the old one. Don’
t know what’s up with folk – we get them in Whitgift’s all the time, pawning brand new stuff and wearing the old that’s full of holes. Truth is, they can’t afford to buy the new and end up pawning it. Then they finish up in their old togs just the same. Dunno why they don’t just mend the old stuff.’
‘Did Ell— I mean Corey come back with you?’
‘No, it was that busy, it’s been a madhouse in there. They don’t let gents in either, so I can’t say what goes on inside.’ He spoke quickly, hardly pausing for breath, ‘I’ve never seen that many fancy carriages with ladies in before. Looks like it’s going to be a boon for Whitgift’s. I like the name, “The Gilded Lily” – wasn’t sure about the whole scheme to begin with, ’cos Jay Whitgift’s a bit of a rum animal, but I’ve a lot of time for the gaffer. He lets me take time off if Ma’s not so good, he’s kind like that, he is.’ He seemed to have run out of things to say. Then suddenly, ‘Are you working?’
‘I’ve got piece work at Lefevre’s Perruquier’s.’
Dennis looked blank.
‘The wig shop round the back of Bread Street.’ Sadie had been counting out the money whilst he was talking. Now she held it out to him.
‘Thanks,’ he said as he took it. ‘I’m glad we’ve got one room let at least. The other one’s been empty three weeks now. But Ma can’t bear the idea of anyone directly overhead. She reckons ’twould stop her sleeping, you know, the noise and that.’
Sadie was surprised that after she gave him the money he made no attempt to go but continued to stand there. She started to move towards the door to encourage him, but he turned instead to the darning on the table.
‘Show us how you do this,’ he said, ‘how you make it so neat.’
‘You don’t really want to see.’
‘I do. Show us how it’s done.’ He patted the shawl.
Sadie flushed, embarrassed. It felt odd to show a lad how to sew. She picked up the needle and, feeling a little ridiculous, began to weave the thread.
‘Over and under, see, then push it tight with the back of the needle. You have to keep the hole taut so that the weaving’s even. It’s simple, a child of three could do it.’
‘My ma sure as hell can’t. Let’s have a go. I’m a bit older than three though. I’m seventeen. How old are you?’
‘Sixteen this week.’ She said it as if she could hardly believe it herself.
‘Really? What day’s your birthday?’
‘Look, sit here and I’ll pass you the needle.’
‘Go on, tell us the day.’
‘The twenty-sixth.’
‘Thursday. I’ll be sure to wish you many happy returns when the day comes. Now is this where it goes?’
He picked up the threads neatly with the tip of the needle, pushing the weft back against the warp. Sadie noticed how the tip of his tongue came out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, and that there was the slight shadow of a moustache on his upper lip.
‘You’ve done this before,’ she said.
He grinned up at her. ‘I’ll do a few more rows to make sure I’ve got it. You won’t tell anyone, will you? ’Tis women’s work, I know, but I’ve got that many hose with holes in, and I’ve stopped giving them to Ma, she can’t manage them.’
She sat down opposite him at the table and watched as he completed the patch.
‘Show us how to finish it off, now.’
She went over and he handed her the needle. She fumbled as she took it from him and it fell from her fingers onto the floor. They both dropped down together to search for it, feeling over the rough floorboards with their fingers. Sadie noticed how Dennis’s wrists came a long way out of his cuffs as if his arms had recently grown too long for his sleeves.
Downstairs the door slammed and they both shot to their feet, looking guiltily at one another.
‘That’ll be your sister. And I’d better go. Ma might be awake and needing me.’
He fished his hat out of his waistband and, cramming it back on his head, hurried out of the door. Sadie heard his apologies as Ella tried to pass him on the stairs.
Ella breezed in, accompanied by an overpowering scent of lavender. She was wearing a bright red skirt and bodice cut very low at the front, under a dark green woollen cloak.
‘What did he want?’ Ella asked, wrinkling up her nose.
‘Nothing. He came for the rental. My, Ella. You look right different. Where did you get that rig? From Whitgift’s?’
‘These are my working clothes. I left my others at the shop. You should’ve seen Jay’s face when he first saw me in this. His mouth fell open that wide you could’ve stuck an apple in it.’
‘I thought he picked the gown out for you?’
‘Oh. Oh, yes he did.’
‘Don’t he mind you coming home in them?’
‘Who’s to know? I’ll not tell him. Anyhows, I feel more like myself in these. Here – feel the weight of that. Gorgeous, isn’t it.’
Sadie stretched out her hand to touch the fabric. ‘By, it’s fine. Watch it don’t get dirty round the hem. We’ve not had chance to sweep today.’
Ella ignored her advice and sat down heavily on the bed, kicking off her muddy shoes. ‘I’m glad to get the weight off my feet. I’ve been run ragged, fetching and carrying. Any supper?’
‘No, Ella. We’ve nothing in. Have you not been paid yet? We could go to the bakehouse.’
‘No. I’ve already said, payday’s the end of the month. Two whole weeks. Never mind, I’m not fussed. Mrs Horsefeather gave me a currant muffin at lunchtime when she saw I’d got no bundle with me.’ She flung her cloak down, releasing another cloud of perfume. ‘What’s that you’re doing? Darning?’
Sadie nodded, staring at Ella’s bosom, rising and falling out of the front of her bodice.
‘Surprised you can be bothered with that old rag. It wants throwing away. Stinky old thing.’
‘It keeps me warm. And it still smells of Farmer Pinkney’s sheep. Do you remember him?’
‘No. I’m done thinking on Netherbarrow now.’
Her words were like a door slamming. Ella looked different, bigger somehow. It wasn’t just the yards of red material heaped up round her where she sat, or the pinned-up hair. Ella seemed to be growing, and she, Sadie, seemed to be shrinking.
Sadie wrapped up the darning things carefully, and put them on the windowsill. Ignoring Ella’s scathing expression she wrapped the shawl round her shoulders. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the lights of the barges going by outside on the river. Their twinkling looked like hazy stars. She had a sudden longing to be on one of those barges, headed out on the ribbon of light, out towards the wide open swell of the sea.
‘I’m lighting another rushlight,’ Ella said, opening the tin box on the wall. ‘It’s right poky in here with only the one light. At Whitgift’s there are chandeliers with dozens of candles, so bright they make your eyes smart. And a fire blazing in the grate, so’s the ladies don’t catch a chill. It’s freezing. Is there no wood?’
‘Not unless you want to go gather some.’
Ella sat down on the bed. ‘What? In this gown? No, when I get paid, we’ll have a good big fire, we’ll buy a great dry bundle from Farrah’s on the corner and heat up a boiling pan with a whole chicken in it.’ Ella opened her arms to indicate a chicken of enormous proportions.
Sadie’s mouth watered, her stomach was hollow. But Ella’s optimism was infectious and she could not help but laugh. She sat down next to her. ‘That’s a bloody big chicken. More like a swan.’
‘Oh, all right, milady, swan it is. Will you be having it stuffed with partridge or quail?’
‘Oh, quail, I should think. Partridge is so common. And I should like some roast potatoes. About two dozen should be enough.’
‘Two dozen? Why not three?’ Ella mimed stuffing her mouth with potato until her cheeks bulged. They both fell into fits of laughter, clutching for each other so they did not fall off the bed.
‘Sing a so
ng of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, four and twenty turkeycocks, baked in a pie . . .’ sang Ella.
Sadie spluttered with mirth. She caught a glimpse of the old Ella, the Ella before she went into service with the Ibbetsons, the Ella who used to keep her awake half the night with her playacting and outrageous fairy tales. She squeezed Ella’s arm and Ella tickled her round the waist.
Another noise at the door below made them both startle. Something about the quality of the knocking put them on the alert.
‘Quick, get the bolt on,’ Ella said.
The knocking in the hall below got louder.
Sadie pressed her ear to the door. She waved at Ella to extinguish the light. The room fell dark and silent. Down below they could hear the front door creak open.
‘Is it that man again?’ whispered Sadie.
‘Shh. Be quiet so I can hear.’
‘Come in,’ said Dennis’s voice. ‘My ma’s not so well, so you’ll have to come into the back room if you want to speak with her.’
Footsteps walking on the flagged floor underneath.
‘Yes?’ Dennis’s mother’s voice, weakly, from somewhere under their feet.
Sadie and Ella pressed their ears to the door. A man’s voice. ‘We’re looking for two girls. One quite a looker, the other with a red stain on her face. A lad thinks he saw them in the alley and told us they came in here.’
‘Why? What’ve they done?’ Dennis’s voice.
Sadie gripped hold of Ella’s hand.
‘There’s a reward out for them. Murder and robbery.’ Sadie took a sharp intake of breath. He said murder. Surely that could not be true? She looked to Ella and saw the whites of Ella’s eyes move, as she shook her head vigorously.
‘It’s the constable, Ma,’ they heard Dennis say.
‘Oh my. We did take in two girls, just last week, didn’t we, Dennis? In the room upstairs.’
The Gilded Lily Page 13