The Gilded Lily

by Deborah Swift

  As if to finish Corey’s warning, the dogs began to bark. The barking set off all the others in the vicinity. Someone was shouting, but it was impossible to hear them over the yapping and snarling. In the yard there was a commotion, the gates swung briefly open and a heavy dark figure in a long cape rode past her and into the alleyway beyond.

  ‘It’s the day man leaving,’ hissed Corey. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Oh Corey, thank you.’ She threw her arms round Corey’s neck.

  ‘Get away with you. And have a care, we know what those dogs are like.’

  ‘Don’t fret, they’re tethered.’

  A few moments later a boxwagon arrived and Sadie walked tall through the gate after it. She stopped to raise a hand briefly to Corey.

  ‘God speed.’ She heard the call to her retreating back.

  The dogs barked and bounced on the ends of their tethers but the choke of their collars soon reduced the sound to snaps and growls.

  She strolled past a carriage, parked outside the warehouse, her eyes fixed on the sign ahead. It was strange – there were no other women in the yard, and Corey had said it was always thronging.

  A lad ran to catch up with her, ‘Sorry, miss, but the Lily here is closed tonight. It’s open at the Frost Fair though, right on Freezeland Street. Is that your carriage?’ He pointed to a carriage parked in the street outside.

  Her throat was tight with fear, but he was smiling and he did not seem to think there was anything amiss.

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes, it is. Thanking you.’ She hesitated, nervous that her north country voice might betray her.

  ‘Pardon me, miss, but I think you’d best go back to it then. ’Tain’t safe to be out on the streets alone.’

  He lifted his cap and went off whistling. She turned to go. So Ella wasn’t here after all. Or was she? She caught sight of a hulk of a man sitting on the mount block nearby. He wore a leather coat and cotton sleeves like a butcher might wear. He was staring at the dogs who were whining through the bars of a pen near the gate. Sadie knew a guard when she saw one. Just as Corey had said, he looked like a man put there to deter the likes of her.

  Checking the boy had gone, she nipped to the side, behind the boxwagon and tethered horse. It whickered and turned its head, but then continued to pull hay from the rack on the wall. As she crouched there, the door to the Gilded Lily opened and a little dark-haired girl came out carrying a tray laden with bottles. The big man turned and she saw his eyes follow her as she tottered past towards the building opposite. The girl paused by the door trying to press the latch with her elbow until one of the bottles fell off and smattered on the cobbles. The big man lumbered over to her and plucked open the latch whereupon she staggered through. The man stooped to pick up the bits of broken glass, but Sadie did not wait to see any more. She hared across the yard and in through the open door.

  At first Sadie could not see anyone for there was only a stub of a candle lit, but then she heard footsteps on the stairs. She caught her breath.

  Ella was thin as a rail, chalk white, her mouth a red slash. She was dressed in the green gown laced until her waist was a mere handspan wide. Ella stopped, her hands to her face.

  ‘Who—? How did you get in here?’ Ella asked before she had got to the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘I’ve come to—’

  Ella leapt down and took hold of Sadie’s arm, agitated. ‘Is there still a man outside?’

  ‘Yes, but he went to help the girl—’

  ‘Oh Lord. Just look at you! I’m so glad to see you, I was near mad with worry. But you mustn’t stay. You must get away from here. Go now, Sadie, before anyone sees you.’

  Sadie opened her mouth to speak but Ella was propelling her towards the door. ‘Go for God’s sake – Jay Whitgift read the notices, he’s after claiming the reward, and if he finds you he’ll take you too. Please, Sadie. You’ve got to get out of here, and don’t come back.’

  ‘But, Ella –’ Sadie stepped back, but did not turn to go. Ella gave her a push. ‘I’m serious. I’ve told you. Get out. Anywhere. Anywhere but here! Afore it’s too late.’

  ‘I only came—’

  ‘You stupid girl, what’s the matter with you?’ Ella’s face was stark white and gaunt, her eyes red-rimmed. There was desperation in her voice. ‘Just go, can’t you.’

  Sadie backed away. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Can’t you hear? Are you stupid?’ Ella was shouting and half crying now and waving her arms at her.

  ‘I’m going home. Come with me, Ella, we could—’ Sadie paused. Ella was looking behind her, frozen in mid-gesture like a statue.

  ‘Hide!’ she said. ‘Quick, get in the back.’

  Something in the urgency of Ella’s tone prompted Sadie to run. She dragged open the storeroom door and plunged inside. It smelt of camphor and flowers. She peered through the crack in the door and heard the bell tinkle; the single light flickered in the draught.

  Footsteps on the flagged floor, the moving shadow of a lantern. ‘You say she came in here?’ someone said.

  ‘Aye,’ said a deep voice. Sadie’s heart sank.

  ‘Lutch says someone came in.’ Jay’s voice.

  ‘No,’ Ella said.

  ‘Foxall, search the back and upstairs.’

  Sadie put herself behind the door, but knew it was hopeless. It was less than a minute before she felt a grip on her arm and she was pulled blinking into the light.

  ‘Your sister, if I’m not mistaken,’ Jay said.

  ‘Leave her alone,’ Ella said. ‘She’s done naught.’

  Sadie wrestled to free herself, and Jay said, ‘Keep ahold of her. Lutch, give him a hand. Wolfenden’s paying me sixty pound for them. Fancies seeing them fight, he said.’

  The big man brought her other arm behind her back and pinioned it with one of his. Jay leaned on the counter, his fancy pistol dangling from its finger-guard, watching her struggle.

  ‘No.’ Ella ran and grasped Jay by the sleeve. ‘Let Sadie go free. She’s done nothing. It was me robbed Ibbetson. She’s innocent, I swear.’

  Jay snatched his hand back and pointed the gun at her. ‘Innocent is she? Is she a virgin?’

  ‘No,’ said Ella, backing away.

  Sadie was about to protest but then she closed her mouth tight.

  Jay turned his eyes on Sadie. ‘Someone tupped you?’ He was amused, his voice clearly said he did not believe it.

  Sadie looked away.

  ‘You’re lying. She’s never lain with anyone, has she?’

  Nobody said a word.

  ‘Even better, she’ll fetch a higher price.’ Jay turned to Ella. ‘I hope you’re right. If there’s no blood, old Wolfie might demand his money back. Lutch, take this one to the storeroom. We’ll lock them both up there until the carriage is ready. Don’t worry, lads, you’ll get your cut, same as usual.’

  Lutch took hold of Ella and pinioned her arms behind her. Sadie saw something like panic in her eyes. Ella appealed to Jay, ‘I beg you, let Sadie go. I’ll go to Wolfenden—’

  ‘You?’ Jay laughed. ‘Wolfenden likes a maid. And that, I’ll warrant, you most certainly are not. Allsop’s your man.’ He looked to Foxy. ‘Lock them in.’ They struggled to take Ella into the back room.

  ‘When you’ve finished here, send out to Wolfenden. Tell him to get his purse ready, the deal’s on.’

  Lutch nodded.

  ‘You armed?’

  ‘Yup,’ said Foxy.

  ‘Good, because I don’t want any accidents getting them in the wagon.’

  Sadie looked at Ella and saw her crumple. The sight of her bowed head brought about a nameless dread. Ella had always been the strong one, had always had an answer for everything.

  They heard the scrape as the bolts were slid home. When the men had gone, they were alone in the chill dark. Their eyes were not accustomed to it so they could not see each other’s faces.

  ‘Have they gone?’ whispered Sadie.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Wha
t will they do to us?’

  ‘Jay Whitgift will take us to his friends and then he’ll hand us over.’

  ‘To Ibbetson?’

  There was a silence then. Sadie knew what this meant. After a few moments she said, ‘Give us your hand.’ She felt Ella’s cold fingers squeeze hers tight.

  ‘Ella?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you afraid?’

  ‘Not of dying. Not of that.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘I’m afraid of Jay Whitgift’s friends. Allsop. Wolfenden.’

  ‘Sorry, Ell.’

  Ella dropped her hand. ‘What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything.’

  ‘That I wouldn’t wear the dress afore now. I was afraid to.’

  ‘That. No, you soft thing. You were right. I don’t like to see you done up like that. It gives folk the wrong impression. And sooner or later someone would have found you out. It was a stupid idea.’

  Sadie sat down, feeling for the wall with her back.

  ‘What time will they come for us?’

  ‘I don’t know. But you know this is the end, don’t you?’

  Sadie did not answer.

  ‘We can still beat them though.’ Ella’s voice cut through the dark.

  ‘How? We’re locked in.’

  ‘This is the apothecary’s cupboard. There might be poisons on the shelf if we can find a light.’

  ‘How will we get them to take them?’

  ‘Not them, you goose. Us. We can take them. Then when they come back we’ll be dead.’

  ‘No!’ Sadie shouted, and scrambled back up to take hold of Ella by the shoulders. ‘Don’t dare say such a thing. It’s a mortal sin. We’re not doing that.’

  Sadie felt how thin Ella’s collarbones were. She felt limp, and she let Sadie shake her as if she was made of rags. In the dark her voice echoed strangely. ‘They’ll not let us go. What’s the difference? Tonight, tomorrow? They’ll finish us anyway.’

  ‘We’re not giving up. We’ll pray, and maybe God will hear us and send us some help.’

  ‘God?’ Ella laughed, a brittle sound with no bubble of mirth. ‘God won’t hear me. I sent a woman to the gallows. I’m a sinner, Sadie. Evil through and through. It’s the Devil wants me.’

  Sadie pulled Ella close to her, hugging her to her chest. ‘You’re not. Don’t say that. It’s not true. You’re my own dear Ella.’

  Ella pushed her away. Her voice was barely audible. ‘I’m not fit to be your sister. Do you want to know who I really am? It’s not a pretty tale. It was me sent poor Alice Ibbetson to the gallows. Me, Sadie. I wanted to bed her husband, Thomas, get even somehow.’ She paused and sighed. ‘I don’t know, I thought if I could have what she had . . . the poor wretch, I stole her husband from her. I hid it well enough, but I hated her – all her type.’

  There was a silence. Sadie waited for her to speak more and when she did not, reached out to touch her, but again Ella brushed her away.

  ‘I worry I might not see Ma, if I go to the other place. She’s in heaven, I know.’ Sadie listened, straining to hear Ella’s voice, which was barely audible. ‘’Tis strange, but I still miss her, you know. You know they said I’d forget about it in time, how she died. But ’tis not a thing you forget. And I had only seven years of her. I wanted to remember it all, every last thing, even that.’ A whisper. ‘Ma’s mistress never came, see. Left me waiting on the sands. The sands had caught her, Sadie, and I didn’t know what to do, and Ma said to keep away, and the sea kept on coming –’

  There was silence then in the room, except for Ella’s sobs.

  ‘What, Ella?’

  ‘I let her drown.’

  Sadie could barely take it in. All those years, and Ella had never told anyone, bore the burden of it all by herself. Sadie reached for her hand and pressed it.

  ‘I should’ve done something.’ Ella’s voice was angry.

  When Sadie finally spoke, she said, ‘But you were hardly seven year old, what could you do?’

  ‘Something. Anything.’ Ella’s voice broke up. ‘She was our lovely ma and I just stood there.’

  ‘Don’t. Whatever happened, it won’t bring her back, no use blaming nobody. You kept me going, with your talk of a fine life. When my back was black and blue, when the lads taunted me, then it were your tales I remembered – how we’d sleep on satin and eat oysters and cream pie. I knew it was all just gab, but I couldn’t have borne it if I didn’t think something better was coming.’

  ‘And look where I’ve led you. But I couldn’t leave you behind, could I? Not with Da strapping you every night.’

  Sadie took hold of Ella round the waist. ‘You wanted to help me. You see, you’re not wicked, you’re kind. See, Ella.’ Ella did not speak, but Sadie could feel her ribs start to shake with weeping.

  ‘I’m proud you came for me,’ Sadie said, ‘I couldn’t have stood it if you’d upped and gone without me, left me there with him. You were my hope. You did right, we could have got away. You weren’t to know this would happen, it was a risk worth taking. And now, whatever happens, we’ve got each other.’

  ‘Tell her I’m sorry, won’t you, when you see her?’

  ‘If I can. Though sometimes I think ’tis all just a myth, made up to keep us all in line. And anyway, if there’s a heaven, then we’ll walk through them gates together.’

  ‘Oh, Sadie, I treated you so bad. I got blinded by Whitgift’s. I was so selfish, I didn’t mean to . . .’

  ‘Hush, hush. Never mind, it’s all over now.’ Sadie patted Ella’s heaving back as if she were a child. ‘It’s done with, all that. We’ve got to live for today. It might be the only day we’ve got left. Put your arms round me, come on now, hold me tight.’

  Ella’s arms fastened around her neck and her head came onto Sadie’s shoulder. ‘I love you, Sadie, you’re the only one who really sees me.’ Sadie didn’t know what she meant but her tears came too, they were tears of relief. Ella had told her the truth, and it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, the truth from Ella’s lips. They wept together, clinging to each other.

  Chapter 40

  Titus Ibbetson tossed and turned, unable to get back to sleep. The visions of the girls in the gaol would not leave him; stained and reddened faces with accusing eyes haunted him. He had not known so many women with this kind of face existed. He had thought to look over one or two before finding the girl he sought. Now the figure had run into dozens.

  He dragged the bed covers further up over his chin. He was cold despite asking the landlady for more woollen blankets, and then piling on his cloak and the sheepskin from beside the fire onto his bed. He was surprised how much difference it made not having Isobel beside him for warmth. He climbed out of bed and went over to the dresser where the small sampler he had found in the girls’ room lay next to his gloves and hat.

  He picked it up and ran his thumbs over the stitches. Sadie Apleby. It was odd to hold it in his hands. The refinement of it took his breath away, the stitches so neat and orderly, the little flowers at the corners so finely executed. Like something a lady might make. It must have taken a deal of patience to make such a thing. Somehow he had never imagined that the girls who robbed his brother could partake in such gentle pursuits. It was not finished yet – perhaps the girl had been making it when he arrived. The thought of her sewing made him drop it back on the table, he did not want to be so near her hands.

  He sighed and looked out of the window. The snow was softening in the street, stained yellow now from the frozen piss of horses and dogs. He thought of the girls’ lodgings. Although he knew that people lived that way, it still surprised him to see such a grim place, bare as a board, with scarcely a stick of furniture and no glass at the window.

  He was fascinated, though, to find a number of small items in the room, including several salves and pots and a bag printed by a proper press with The Gilded Lily – Ladies’ Emporium. Mercy Fletcher had told him the stall was situated inside Whitgift’s
second-hand shop. He had been to Whitgift’s when he first came to London, but there had been no sign of a ladies’ apothecary then.

  So today he was going to go back to Whitgift’s yard. He might be able to trace the girls that way. It had become a matter of pride. He had been so long away, and what would he tell them back home if he failed? He had never failed at anything in his life.

  It was too cold to be in bed so he began to dress. His shirt was stiff, the leather of his boots still damp from walking in yesterday’s snow. He went to the window and looked out. No frost today on the windows, so the thaw must be continuing, and indeed there seemed to be water dripping from the eaves of the house opposite. London itself was embroiled in a veil of fog. He sighed again. It was hard enough to find anything, without this. Ten minutes later a carriage waited for him outside the hotel door.

  ‘Whitgift’s, Broken Wharf,’ he called to the driver.

  There was the usual whirr of the pocket watches as Walt Whitgift and Nat Tindall puffed on their pipes in Walt’s office.

  ‘Have you heard? There’s been a riot, they’ve had to send in the king’s life guards,’ said Tindall, tapping his pipe with his thumb to settle the glowing tamp.

  ‘What’s it about then, this riot?’

  ‘Dissenters against the king – led by someone called Venner. Wild man he is, so they say, but there’s more than twenty dead on both sides. Imagine that. His head’s going up on the bridge. Didn’t I tell you there’d be blood?’

  ‘You did. That strange dream you had – about the Thames turning red, and a mighty lightning bolt from heaven. Odds fish, you were right.’

  ‘These are curious times. It’s common knowledge in my business, that when the year can be reversed, then fortunes can turn on a horseshoe.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘1661. The same writ backwards as forwards.’

  ‘Aah.’

  ‘Chance for Lucifer to push his nose in and turn things about. Shouldn’t be surprised if we don’t see more fighting before the month’s out.’