by Dilly Court
‘No, thank you.’ Mirabel turned her attention to the next in line and found herself looking into Jack Starke’s blue eyes. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘Such an enthusiastic greeting,’ he said, chuckling.
‘If you don’t want soup you’d better make way for those who do.’ She had not meant to be rude, but his unexpected arrival had thrown her into a state of confusion. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added apologetically. ‘But as you can see I’m rather busy.’
‘We have a mutual friend, Miss Cutler. I came to enquire about her well-being.’
‘I really can’t talk now. Please move on,’ Mirabel said in a low voice. She could feel Lillian’s curious gaze boring into the back of her head.
‘I’m in no hurry. I’ll wait until you’ve finished here.’ Jack tipped his hat to Lillian, treating her to his most disarming smile.
Mirabel shot a sideways glance at her and saw that the older woman was blushing. ‘Have you no shame?’ she murmured, trying not to laugh.
‘None at all.’ Jack stood aside as an elderly man sidled up to the counter clutching a tin mug. ‘You have a customer, Miss Cutler.’ He strolled off to sit at a table on the far side of the room.
Mirabel’s hand shook as she served the soup. She was at a loss to understand why the sudden appearance of a man she barely knew could have such an effect on her, but she found her eyes drawn to him whenever there was a momentary lull. She forced herself to concentrate, breathing a sigh of relief when the session ended.
‘Your friend is still here,’ Lillian said, jerking her head in Jack’s direction. ‘I don’t think he’s the type of gentleman you ought to be associating with, Mirabel. If you know what I mean.’
‘No, I don’t think I do, Mrs Marjoribanks.’
Lillian sucked in her cheeks and pursed her lips. ‘I believe he associates with fallen women. I’ll say no more, but be careful, my dear.’
‘Thank you, ma’am. I’ll bear that in mind.’ Mirabel hurried over to the table where Jack was waiting for her. He was slouched in a chair with his feet up, and his hat pushed to the back of his head at a rakish angle. ‘I’ve just been warned against you,’ she said, perching on a wooden bench opposite him. ‘Mrs Marjoribanks seems to think that I shouldn’t associate with someone like you.’
‘And she’s probably right in general, but I can assure you that you’re quite safe with me.’
‘Oh!’ She struggled to think of a suitable response, but the mocking gleam in his eyes made it difficult to think of a suitable reply and for once she was at a loss for words.
‘I was concerned about Bodger’s sister, and I wondered how you were managing.’
‘It’s difficult,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘I came here hoping to see Mrs Hamilton. I thought she might be able to give me some advice.’
‘I don’t see what Adela could do to help.’
‘I thought perhaps she’d know of a charitable institution that would look after Gertie until she’s well again. I don’t think she’s sick enough to go to hospital, but she mustn’t go back to that awful room in Black Dog Alley.’
‘Now there I agree with you, and I think I might be able to help.’
‘You do?’
‘Don’t look so surprised. I’m not all bad. What state is Gertie in now? Could she be moved?’
‘I dosed her with laudanum so she should still be asleep, but I must get back before she wakes. She might be scared and call out for me, and that would ruin everything.’
‘You haven’t told your parents about her then?’
‘Good heavens, no. Pa might be all right with it but my stepmother would be furious. I really should be going.’
‘I’ll accompany you.’
Seized by a feeling of panic at the thought of how Ernestine would react to a visit from Captain Jack Starke, Mirabel shook her head. ‘No, you won’t. I mean, thank you, but that would only make things worse. Heaven knows what would happen if you were seen with me.’
‘My reputation must have gone ahead of me,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘But you need to remove Gertie from your house and find her a safe haven where she’ll be nursed back to health. Am I right?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Then I’ll help you, but I’d best leave it until late this evening. I’ll come when the servants have gone to bed and move Gertie to a place of safety. Do you agree?’
‘I suppose so,’ she said doubtfully. ‘But where will you take her?’
‘You’ll have to trust me, but I do know some kind-hearted people who wouldn’t turn her away. I suppose I owe it to Boatswain Tinker to look after his little sister.’
‘You are a strange man,’ Mirabel said, rising to her feet. ‘I never know whether you’re serious or if you’re laughing at me.’
He slid his feet to the ground and stood up. ‘I’m deadly serious at this moment, Miss Cutler. If you look out of your window at midnight you’ll see me loitering beneath the street lamp, and if I’m seen people will simply assume that you have an admirer. Does that bother you?’
‘My stepmother would provide you with a ladder if she thought I was about to elope. She’s already threatened to marry me off to anyone who’ll have me.’
‘She sounds like a lovely lady. I can’t wait to make her acquaintance.’ He tipped his hat. ‘Until tonight, Miss Cutler.’
‘Thank you, Captain Starke. I’m truly grateful.’
‘That’s quite all right, Miss Cutler, but in the circumstances I think we could drop the formalities. You may call me Jack if I’m allowed to call you Mirabel; it’s such a pretty name.’
She turned her head away so that he could not see she was blushing. ‘All right, Jack. I’ll see you at midnight.’
The house was in total silence except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the entrance hall, and the whirr followed by the booming chime on the hour. With her door slightly ajar Mirabel counted the strokes. Midnight – the witching hour. She shivered, but it was excitement and not fear that made her pulses race. She closed the door softly and hurried to the window, kneeling on the seat to throw up the sash and lean out. The gas lamp hanging from the adjacent house created a pool of sulphurous yellow light on the paving stones, but there was no sign of Captain Starke. A black and white cat strolled into view but something caused it to stop and arch its back before racing off into the darkness. And then she saw him.
Jack looked up and doffed his hat with a theatrical bow. ‘It’s all a game to you, isn’t it,’ Mirabel muttered, torn between irritation and the desire to burst out laughing at his antics. She closed the window and crept out of her room, tiptoeing barefoot along the narrow corridor so that she did not disturb Cook or Flossie. She quickened her pace and hurried downstairs to admit Jack.
‘You came,’ she whispered. ‘I wasn’t sure you would.’
‘I’m a man of my word.’
‘We’ll have to be very quiet.’
‘That goes without saying. Lead on and let’s get this done.’
She picked up her skirts and headed for the stairs. ‘The fifth one up creaks if you step in the middle.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
Avoiding the tread that might give them away, Mirabel ran lightly up the stairs with Jack following close behind. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and caught the heady masculine scent of bay rum – crushed bay leaves, citrus, cinnamon and cloves – combined with a hint of Havana cigar smoke and the warm leather of his jacket. She had to take a deep breath in order to concentrate on the task in hand as she entered her room, acutely conscious of his presence in her own special place. The feeling that she had stepped into one of her dreams was overpowering, but this was real and a soft groan from the bed made her move to comfort Gertie. ‘It’s all right. I’m here and so is Captain Starke. We’re going to take you to a much nicer place where you’ll be looked after until you’re well again.’
Jack scooped Gertie up in his arms. ‘I’ve got a cab waiting in Seething L
ane. I’ll make sure she’s all right, so don’t worry about her.’
‘You’re not thinking of going without me, are you?’ Mirabel slipped her feet into her shoes and snatched up a shawl, draping it around her shoulders. ‘I want to see where you’re taking her.’
He hesitated. ‘It’s not the sort of place you’d want to go.’
‘I’m not sure I like that sound of that. I’m definitely coming with you.’
‘All right, if you must. The cab won’t wait for ever so we’d best hurry.’
She followed him out of the room, pausing only to lock the door and put the key in her pocket.
The drive through the gas-lit streets was like entering the underworld. Mirabel had grown up in the city, but had never ventured out at this time of night. Inert bodies huddled in doorways, either asleep or dead drunk or even deceased, it was impossible to tell. Prostitutes lingered on street corners, offering their services to any man who passed their way, and quick couplings were taking place in the shadows. Mirabel knew these things happened, but rarely had she witnessed such an overt display of animal lust. Drunks fell out of the pubs along the way, some of them weaving their way homeward or back to their ships, while others were involved in brawls or were set upon by the gangs who roamed the streets on the lookout for the unwary, robbing them of everything they had, including their clothes. Mirabel turned her head away at the sight of a semi-naked man staggering along the pavement with blood oozing from cuts on his head and face. She shifted Gertie’s head from her shoulder, cradling the sleeping girl in her arms. ‘This is a terrible place,’ she whispered.
‘It’s like any big city at night,’ Jack said casually. ‘This is nothing compared to some places I’ve visited abroad.’
Mirabel stared out of the window. ‘That child can’t be more than nine or ten years old,’ she cried, horrified. ‘The old woman is exhibiting her like an animal in the market.’
‘That’s probably her mother or her grandmother. It’s a harsh world if you’re poor, Mirabel.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s on my doorstep and yet I knew nothing of it. I thought the lives of the beggars who come to the soup kitchen were bad enough, but this is a living hell.’
‘We’re here,’ Jack said as the hackney carriage drew to a halt. ‘It’s best if you wait in the cab. I’ll take Gertie inside and then I’ll see you home.’
‘I’m coming in. I want to see what sort of place this is.’
He opened the door and lifted Gertie gently in his arms. ‘Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ He climbed out, leaving Mirabel to manage on her own.
The street was thronged with people going about their business as if it were noon on market day. Every other building seemed to be a pub, and the sound of drunken singing, raucous laughter and raised voices was accompanied by the smashing of glass and splintering of wood as fights broke out. Bruised and bloodied men were ejected with force through open doors, landing sprawled in the gutter along with the rats and feral cats. Jack carried Gertie into a house that blazed with lights. The front door was wedged open and a burly man stood at the top of the steps with his muscular arms folded across his chest and a pugnacious set to his jaw. His expression did not alter, but he seemed to know Jack and moved aside to let him in.
Even as Mirabel stepped over the threshold she realised that this was no ordinary establishment. The gaudy red and gold wallpaper in the entrance hall and the brass candle sconces set between dozens of long mirrors created an ambience of opulence verging on vulgarity. The air was heady with a mixture of cheap perfume, cigar smoke and wine. It was unlike any other place she had ever seen, and unless she was very much mistaken this was a brothel. Any doubts she had were dispelled by the appearance of a tall, slender woman wearing an emerald-silk gown lavishly trimmed with bugle beads and quite shockingly low cut. She might once have been quite lovely, but her painted cheeks and lips could not replicate the bloom of youth. Her hazel eyes held a world-weary expression that lightened momentarily when she saw Jack and darkened almost instantly, as if she were afraid to allow human emotions to interfere with business.
‘Zilla, my dear. How lovely you look tonight.’ Jack inclined his head, smiling.
‘Don’t try to soft-soap me, Jack Starke. I’m doing you a big favour taking this skinny little rabbit of a girl under my wing.’ Zilla touched Gertie’s cheek with the tip of her forefinger. ‘She looks terrible. Which gutter did you pluck her from?’
‘Excuse me,’ Mirabel said angrily. ‘I didn’t agree to this, Jack.’
‘Didn’t you tell this person what you had in mind?’ Zilla shook her head. ‘You always were a fool when it came to a pretty face, Jack Starke.’
Mirabel faced him angrily. ‘I thought you had a refuge in mind for the poor girl. Leaving her in a brothel isn’t going to improve her lot.’
‘A brothel?’ Zilla gave her a withering look. ‘This is a private club, where gentlemen relax and enjoy the company of young women.’
‘It’s still a brothel,’ Mirabel insisted. ‘We’ve just rescued this girl from a life on the streets. She needs to recuperate in pleasant surroundings with people who’ll treat her kindly.’
Zilla stood arms akimbo, glaring at Mirabel. ‘And what makes you think she won’t get that here?’
‘That’s enough, ladies,’ Jack said firmly. ‘Mirabel, this lady is Zilla Grace, one of my oldest friends. A better person you’ll go a long way to meet. Zilla, this young puritan is Mirabel Cutler. Her heart is in the right place but she’s led a sheltered existence, and apparently can’t tell the difference between a genuine kind heart and a money-grubbing wanton.’
Zilla’s angry expression melted into a smile. ‘You always were good with words, Jack, as well as other things which we won’t mention in front of a well-bred young lady.’
‘Laugh at me if you like.’ Mirabel drew herself up to her full height, finding to her annoyance that she was still half a head shorter than Zilla. ‘But I’m not leaving Gertie to be sold to the highest bidder like that poor child I just saw.’
‘My dear, you have a very odd idea of how I run my house,’ Zilla said with a humourless chuckle. ‘My girls are willing participants in the activities here. No one is forced to do anything they don’t want to, and I’ve only agreed to take Gertie in as a favour to an old friend. She can stay here until she regains her health and strength. After that it’s up to her or to you, as you seem to have taken charge of her life. Are you related in some way?’
Taken aback, Mirabel shook her head. ‘No. I don’t really know her.’
‘Zilla will take good care of Gertie,’ Jack said easily. ‘And now I’d really like to put her down. Where do you want her, my love?’
‘If her guardian angel agrees, I’ll put her in the back room. It’s next to mine and I can keep an eye on her.’
Mirabel looked from one to the other, frowning. It was not difficult to work out the relationship between Jack and Zilla. She had disliked the woman the moment she clapped eyes on her. ‘I’m not sure about this.’
‘For God’s sake, stop looking down your nose at me. I’m a businesswoman first and foremost,’ Zilla said angrily. ‘My girls aren’t slaves. They come and go as they please, and they’re well treated. Your little friend will be looked after.’
Mirabel opened her mouth to argue but at that moment Gertie uttered a moan. ‘This is getting us nowhere,’ Jack said impatiently. ‘She might be small but I’m getting cramp. Lead on, Zilla.’
She hesitated for a moment, glaring at Mirabel, and then seeming to relent she led the way down a long passageway to a door at the far end. Mirabel followed them, not knowing quite what to expect. She had read lurid descriptions of houses of ill repute in penny dreadful novels she had borrowed from Cook, who was addicted to them. She was vaguely disappointed to enter a comfortable parlour such as might be found in any middle-class home, the only difference being that there was a bed in one corner, but otherwise it was tastefully furnished with a chint
z-covered sofa and armchairs and the windows were draped in matching fabric. Zilla lit an oil lamp and placed it on a table close to the bed. ‘It’s quiet in here. She won’t be disturbed.’
Mirabel watched anxiously as Jack laid Gertie on the mattress. ‘She’ll wake up when the laudanum wears off. She’ll be scared when she realises she’s not with me.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after her.’ Zilla drew the covers up to Gertie’s chin, stooping to brush a lock of hair off the girl’s face. ‘I promise you that she’ll be well cared for.’
Jack placed his hands around Zilla’s slim waist and twirled her round to face him, planting a kiss on her full lips. ‘Thank you, my love.’
With the recoil of a snake she raised her hand and slapped his face, leaving scarlet imprints of her fingers. ‘That’s for taking me for granted, Jack Starke.’
Mirabel held her breath, waiting for Jack to react, but he released Zilla, grinning ruefully as he rubbed his cheek. ‘You’re still the same firebrand you always were, Zilla my darling.’
‘I’m nobody’s darling.’ She smiled and brushed his lips with a kiss. ‘Don’t ever assume you can be free and easy with me. My favours are not bestowed lightly.’
‘You loved me once.’
‘Long ago, Jack. That was a long time ago.’
He nodded his head. ‘You still pack a punch, Zilla.’
Mirabel tugged at his sleeve. ‘Perhaps we should leave now?’
‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.’ Zilla moved to the door and opened it. ‘I suppose you’ll be leaving port soon, Captain?’
‘I haven’t as yet found a cargo, but I can’t afford to have the ship lying idle for long.’
‘You’ll come again before you set sail?’
‘It’s a promise. We’ll see ourselves out, Zilla.’
‘Thank you for taking Gertie in,’ Mirabel said, pausing in the doorway. ‘I am grateful.’
‘So you should be. I’m not running a charity.’
‘I’d like to visit her if I may.’
Zilla put her head on one side, curling her lip. ‘You would dare to be seen visiting such a place?’