London Lodgings

by Claire Rayner

  ‘Precisely so. If you ask about, it surely should be possible to find out about any business in Knightsbridge, which is near enough to be of interest to you all? If this man has found suitable premises for the club Dorcas says they are to open, and is a man of some standing, as I imagine he must be, then surely the people in trade in the neighbourhood will know of him?’

  ‘It is very likely,’ Jem allowed.

  ‘Well, if you can find out who he is, then perhaps –’

  ‘Then perhaps you can threaten him?’

  ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Oh, no Jem. I don’t even wish to speak to him! It is the last thing I would do. I want only to have this information so that I can – oh, it’s a dreadful thought but I must confess it – so that I can threaten Dorcas. I have no other defence, Jem.’

  He closed one hand over hers. ‘You don’t need to apologize to me, Tilly. You explained and I fully concur. You are doing this only because you must. Very well. We shall discover all there is to be discovered.’ He laughed then, a rueful little sound. ‘I don’t know which I would prefer. To find out he is a rogue and a vagabond so that we might run him out of the district and leave your Dorcas with sufficient funds to continue to pay you her rent as she should, or to discover him to be the soul of probity so that she will be afraid of – well, let’s see what there is to be revealed. It’s no use trying to guess.’

  It took him just five days. Dorcas had been serenely happy during this time, after her conversation with Tilly, clearly quite confident that all had been settled to her own satisfaction and that she had nothing about which to concern herself. Tilly would watch her, on the rare occasions when she was within doors at number seventeen, and think – am I plotting to do her down only because she is trying to harm me and mine or because I want to see her suffer? If it is the latter, I’m ashamed of myself. I should not have so mean and hateful a nature. But then suddenly the memory of her mother’s spoons came back and she lifted her chin and told herself that it was not perhaps so mean and hateful after all. It was clear the spoons had vanished for ever, for the jeweller had been quite unsuccessful in his search, and for that alone Dorcas deserved every punishment that might be meted out to her.

  But when the time came and she had the evidence she needed in her hands, it was not so easy.

  Jem came to see her at his usual time, walking through the late summer evening to stand in her drawing-room and her heart lifted as she saw him and she jumped to her feet, genuinely delighted to welcome him, and he smiled a little ruefully.

  ‘I will not ask if your clear pleasure at my arrival is due to your expectation of what I might have to tell you, or to the very fact of my presence. No, don’t attempt to answer me. It’s easier if I’m left doubtful. And I must tell you at once that I have all the information you wanted.’

  ‘You have? You’re a miracle worker,’ Tilly cried and led him to the armchair facing hers and then rang the bell. ‘I shall ask Eliza to fetch the tea tray at once, and then we shall be comfortable together.’

  The tray arrived quickly and Eliza looked at Tilly sharply as she set it on a table beside her, and checked the flame on the little spirit stove beneath the kettle on its chased silver stand.

  ‘I’m glad to see you so contented, Mum,’ she said pointedly and even nodded at Jem in a friendly manner. ‘I dare say you’re better company for my mistress than I’d have expected you to be, Mr Leland.’ Tilly bit her lip and considered scolding her for her impertinence and then knew she couldn’t. It was a most difficult situation after all; he had first visited this house as a friend of Charlie Harrod’s, and had frequented the kitchen. It couldn’t be easy for Eliza to serve him up here in the drawing-room. That she had come round to accepting his place in her mistress’s life to an extent was clear in that she had addressed him at all; for many months she had quite ignored him, and though it might be a long time before she could bring herself to call him Sir, the fact that she had been able to call him Mr Leland was a step forward. Tilly smiled up at her and said gently, ‘You’re very kind, Eliza, and indeed, yes, you’re right. I do feel that Mr Leland is excellent company for me. Thank you for the tea.’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ Eliza mumbled and went away, clearly well aware of what she was really thanking her for. For a moment Tilly and Jem sat in silence as they heard her footsteps go thudding heavily downstairs.

  Then Jem stretched a little and sighed. ‘It is difficult for her, I do understand that. It is difficult for me too. Does it concern you?’

  ‘Does what concern me?’ Tilly asked, though she knew perfectly well what he meant.

  ‘I think I had better not continue along these lines,’ Jem said with a flash of laughter in his voice. ‘It will do neither of us any good. Instead, let us speak about the errand you set me.’

  She sat up very straight in eager expectation as she passed him the tea she had poured. ‘Well?’

  ‘You were right. It is remarkably easy to discover all one needs to know about one’s fellow traders if one asks the right questions of the right people. I’ve never been much given to gossiping about other people’s affairs. When Charlie and Spurgeon and I are together we’re as likely to discuss our gardens as business, though Charlie has a tendency to talk of the shop a lot – but always his own, not other people’s. Well, as I say, I’ve been surprised to see how much men do enjoy discussing others’ affairs, now I’ve learned how to do it.’

  ‘I thought as much.’ She was getting tense now, wanting him to come to the point but uncomfortable about harrying him. ‘So, what have you discovered that is of interest?’

  ‘Sir Andrew Ledbetter,’ Jem said. ‘This is the man of whom Dorcas spoke. Sir Andrew Ledbetter.’

  She raised her brows. ‘Sir Andrew? And considering going into trade?’

  Jem laughed. ‘Oh, it’s nothing new for him! He is, it seems, as impecunious a baronet as ever stepped. He’s had interests in a number of other people’s shops and affairs, but always very quietly. He had a stake in Elgar’s building scheme – when he built the Ennismore Gardens houses and so forth – and did quite nicely out of that. When the building was all finished and he could make no more from it, he put some money into Shillibeer’s – the omnibus business, you know? – and made a tolerable sum from that. The thing is, he’s extravagant, likes to live as though he had an income to match his title and his family history. It’s a Devonshire branch of a much richer set of Ledbetters in Nottinghamshire apparently. Includes an Earl, so they say.’

  ‘Then he cares a good deal for appearances,’ Tilly said and leaned back in her chair in some relief. ‘Perhaps my lines are falling in better places at last. If he is a man who is concerned about others’ opinions of him.’

  ‘Oh, he’s concerned indeed!’ Jem said happily. ‘I talked to Elgar’s man – old Beamish used to be his foreman for many years until he was injured by falling bricks when the last houses were being done and Elgar, who is an excellent man, truly excellent, settled a pension on him. He lives very comfortably on that in a room above Spurgeon’s shop and watches the animals for him when they’re in the yard waiting to be killed. He tends to be a touch garrulous when he takes his beer, and he told me it was a great secret that Sir Andrew was a shareholder in Elgar’s affairs. Didn’t think it would be quite the ticket, it seems, for a connection of an Earl. And when Shillibeer’s gave him the chance to invest he swore them to keep quiet, and when one of the Shillibeer clerks made mention of his investment in his presence – showed he knew the man was a shareholder, do you see – he was so incensed he withdrew his investment at once. Cost him a good bit, that did.’

  ‘Is it known that he is to open a club of some sort in Knightsbridge?’ she asked and reached for his cup to give him fresh tea. ‘Or is he –’

  ‘No, indeed it is not. And it is better than that. What is known is that there is a lady who is to do it. The gossip, I have to tell you, is – well, far from polite. I heard suggestions with which I would not sully your ears, but that is perhaps inev
itable, when it is a lady who chooses to open such an establishment. The on dits are that there is this lady who will open the place and that she enjoys the company of a well-placed gentleman. But no one knew – or said they knew – who the well-placed gentleman might be. Now I may be quite wrong but it seems to me more than possible that the lady in question is Dorcas, and the gentleman with whom she is connected is Sir Andrew. There cannot be two such pairs in one small village like Knightsbridge, after all! But both have been able to keep their names well out of sight, it seems.’

  ‘Then I have her,’ Tilly said and put down her cup and saucer. ‘I can deal with her.’

  ‘Indeed you can.’ Jem looked very pleased. ‘I wish I could be here to listen to you do it. It will be a famous victory. I’ve not the least doubt.’

  ‘Will it?’ Tilly said and bent her head to stare down at her fingers, interlaced now on her lap. ‘I think it will be horrid.’

  He got to his feet and came to crouch before her. ‘Oh, I am sorry, Tilly. I should have more feeling. Of course it will be horrid for you to have to deal in such matters. You are not like Dorcas, taking pleasure in triumphing over others. But as you said yourself, what else can you do?’

  She lifted her chin and looked back at him as directly as she could. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right. But I wish – well, never mind. Please, Jem, go home now. I have all the information I need, and I shall wait up for her and use it tonight. I can’t sleep until I’ve done it. But I couldn’t do it if you were still here. And anyway –’ She shivered a little, for all the warmth of the September evening. ‘Anyway I should be ashamed to let you see me behaving like the sort of – like a person who uses such methods of dealing. So go away and leave me be and I promise I’ll tell you what transpires.’

  He remained where he was for a while, staring up at her, and then slowly got to his feet and almost absently dusted down his trousers.

  ‘I think perhaps I am wasting my heart,’ he said abruptly after a while. ‘You can’t care for me as I do for you, can you? Not ever?’

  She was startled and gaped at him. ‘But Jem, I think so highly of you that you can’t imagine! I think of you as the best friend I could possibly have.’

  ‘But never as anything more. Never as someone to whom you could be close and warm and – and comfortable. Never as a person you could allow to see you except when you are carefully prepared to be seen. Never as one to whom you could display any side of yourself that is less charming than you would like it to be. Not, in short, as a lover.’

  There was a silence, and she tried to think honestly of all he had said, and to be as truthful with him as she could, and as he deserved; and knew she could not say other than the words that came to her lips now. ‘You are right, I suppose,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve tried so hard, truly I have. You’re good and kind and I enjoy your company greatly, and value your friendship and your concern and your support. But if you ask me if I feel that freedom that is part of truly loving someone, if I have that sense of – of being one person and with no fear of self-exposure then I have to say – no, Jem. And I don’t know if I ever will.’

  ‘I fear you won’t,’ he said in a low voice and straightened his back. I fear deeply that you can’t.’

  ‘thought it would be enough that we were the friends we are,’ she said almost timidly. ‘You said it would be.’

  He smiled that slightly twisted smile of his again. I thought it would. But I was wrong. Well, good-night Tilly. I hope you get all you want from your conversation with Dorcas. I wish you all you wish yourself. Good-night.’

  And he was gone, leaving her watching the light drain out of the sky outside her drawing-room windows and feeling both bereft and relieved at the same time. Which was a very odd way to feel. She was also deeply apprehensive, for there was still the matter of Dorcas to settle, and she shook her head at her own confusion and told herself sternly that she would think about Jem another time. Now she had to concentrate on the matter of her house and Dorcas and her plans for the future. Hers and Duff’s. That was quite enough to occupy her at present. And she settled in her high backed armchair to wait for Dorcas to return home.

  She woke startled, not quite sure where she was, nor why, and then looked up at the clock on the mantel as she remembered. The small gilt hands gave her a triangular smile and she thought – almost one in the morning! How much longer can I sit here and wait for her?

  But then she realized what it had been that had woken her in the first place: the soft sound of footsteps on the creaking old stairs, and she got to her feet and hurried across the drawing-room, her skirts billowing and sending riffles of draught through the warm room.

  The light from the drawing-room door spilled out into the dark hall and she stood there, framing herself in the doorway and said as firmly as she could, ‘Dorcas, I have been waiting for you and it is important I speak to you at once. You will come in here, if you please.’

  The sounds stopped and after a long pause, Dorcas’s voice came out of the darkness above her. She was clearly halfway up the next flight of stairs.

  ‘Oh, not now, Tilly! I am dreadfully weary – not to say a little bosky.’ She gave a soft breathy little giggle. I have been dining with my partner and drinking quantities of champagne to celebrate the plans we have finished today. We sign the lease tomorrow afternoon and all’s going as merry as a marriage bell. And it will be the real thing. You see if I don’t bring the man up to scratch!’

  ‘Please come in, Dorcas,’ Tilly said again and stepped back in the doorway, willing Dorcas to obey her. If she refused and went upstairs, she would have to follow her and she knew that would put her at a disadvantage. Dorcas must agree to come to her, Tilly’s, drawing-room. There, she knew she could make it all work out right. And she stared implacably out into the dark hallway, her face as hard as she could make it, and wondered a little wildly if Dorcas could hear the heavy thumping of her pulses.

  There was a long silence again and then Dorcas made an odd little sound, part laugh, part snort, part sigh and said, ‘Well, 1 suppose so – I can’t be long though! I yearn for my chamber pot as well as for my chamber, and I am not ashamed to say it! What is it then? Some crime of my little Sophie? She’s only a child so don’t tell me tales of her, for I shan’t listen!’ But she came down the stairs and into the light and Tilly made way for her.

  She was wearing gold tissue and lace and looked dishevelled, for her hair had tumbled from its careful knots and sweeps and curls and was tangled on her shoulders, and she was flushed and sweating too; but Tilly did not concern herself with that. She just looked at her and said firmly, ‘Sit down, I have something to tell you.’

  ‘Well, whatever it is, do make haste.’ Dorcas threw herself on to the sofa, spreading her golden skirts and looking like a heap of coins. Tilly found herself thinking – how very apt, under the circumstances.

  ‘It won’t take long,’ Tilly said steadily. ‘I have to tell you this. I know that your partner is Sir Andrew Ledbetter. I also know him to be a man of considerable pride. I know that he is disinclined to do anything that will in any way mark his name. If he discovers that you and your mother lived in a bawdy house, that you were brought up in a common brothel and that you worked as a housemaid here, he will, I am certain, sever his connections with you, and you will not be signing a lease tomorrow or any other time. Now, unless you arrange to leave this house forthwith and agree never to attempt to have any dealings with me or mine, ever again, I shall tell him all I know of you. I can do this with great ease and very quickly; I know not only his name but where he lives and can see him first thing tomorrow morning. And see him I shall. It is entirely up to you what you do. But you must decide soon – now in fact. For unless you are out of this house at first light tomorrow I shall go and see him before noon. The choice is entirely yours.’

  Epilogue

  THE SMELL OF PAINT was quite qualmish. Tilly thought; no wonder Duff looked so pale. And she stopped beside where he was
sitting on the top step of the second flight staring down into the hallway and touched his forehead.

  ‘Are you all right, my dear one? Would you not be better if you played in the garden for a while? If you wrap up warmly it will be quite –’

  He shook his head pettishly to rid himself of her touch and said crossly, ‘I don’t want to go into the garden.’

  ‘But it is so big now, Duff! They finished the new paths yesterday and the lawn has been rolled to perfection. You could play with your ball on it so easily and it will be much better for you than sitting here amid all the paint smells.’

  ‘There’s no one in the garden to play with,’ Duff said gruffly, hugging his knees even more tightly and he scowled down to where the painter was putting the final touches to the morning room door. ‘I’m all right, Mother. Do leave me be.’

  ‘But –’ she began and then stopped. The last time she had tried to persuade him against his will to do something he had suddenly jumped up and kicked out at her, missing her most narrowly, and then had burst into floods of tears and fled to his bedroom, refusing to re-emerge until Eliza coaxed him out. He had hardly spoken to Tilly for days after that, and only in the last week or two had he brought himself to be a little more like his old friendly self. The last thing she wanted to do was to start another such episode just because he had sunk back into a gloomy mood again, and she sighed and pulled her skirts to one side so that she could go down the stairs past him, contenting herself only with looking back as she reached the landing and saying, ‘Eliza will have your supper ready at the usual time, darling. Now the workmen are almost done we can be as we used to be again.’

  He stared at her with eyes as blank and opaque as pebbles, his pointed little chin buried between his knees as he sat curled up on the step, and she sighed again and continued down the stairs.