The Ragged Heiress

by Dilly Court

  ‘Let me go, guv,’ the crane driver whined. ‘I got a wife and seven nippers to feed.’

  Sam nodded to his crewmen. ‘Let him go. I won’t press charges as Mr Froy is going to settle the matter.’

  ‘Ta, guv. You’re a toff.’ The man raced off, stumbling and sliding on the slippery ground in his eagerness to get away.

  ‘The villain should have been handed over to the police,’ Jeremiah muttered. ‘It’s all a pack of lies.’

  ‘We’ll continue this in the pub,’ Sam said grimly. ‘Go back on your word and you’ll be sorry, Froy.’

  Lucetta glanced anxiously from one to the other. She was shivering violently and her teeth were chattering, but her concern for Sam overrode everything. ‘How bad is the damage, Captain? Will it take long to repair your ship?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s for the boat builders to decide, but it won’t be cheap.’

  ‘It’s none of your business, Guthrie,’ Jeremiah snapped. ‘Get back to your work or you’ll be looking for another position.’

  ‘I’d look for work elsewhere anyway, if I were you,’ Sam said, turning to Lucetta with a hint of the charming smile she remembered so well. ‘The idiot doesn’t deserve loyalty from a person like you.’

  Lucetta looked him in the eyes and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of recognition. She opened her mouth to reply but Sam had turned away as if he had already forgotten her presence.

  ‘Come along then, Froy,’ he said, slapping Jeremiah on the shoulder. ‘Let’s go to the Turk’s Head for that jug of rum punch and we’ll discuss money in a civilised way.’

  Lucetta stood on the wharf, watching them as they strode off towards the pub. Standing amongst the tall cranes with the ships’ masts towering above her, she felt small and insignificant. She had once been Miss Lucetta Froy, heiress to a thriving business, and now she was a person of no importance.

  ‘Come back inside, miss.’

  She turned to see Perks standing behind her, holding out her shawl. He wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘You’ll catch your death of cold out here, Miss Lucy. There’s a nice hot cup of tea waiting for you in the office, and some of Mrs P’s shortbread biscuits what was left over from our Christmas dinner.’

  It took several cups of hot sweet tea to warm Lucetta, but the real chill was settled firmly around her heart. She knew now that Sam really had forgotten her. She went about her work that day like an automaton. She did not flinch when Jeremiah shouted at her, taking out his frustration on her instead of on Captain Cutler. It transpired that a witness had come forward, having overhead Jeremiah plotting with the crane driver, and Jeremiah had been constrained to underwrite the repairs to the Sea Eagle. He was not a happy man. Lucetta would have loved to tell him that it was all his own doing and he had brought trouble on himself, but she kept her own counsel. She could not risk losing her job, and if she were to tell the truth her feeling for the business went deeper than that. The warehouse and its contents were her only link with her past. At any given moment of the day she expected to hear her father’s voice giving instructions to his men. He was still here in spirit; she could feel him all around her and she would not let him down.

  At the end of the day, long after Jeremiah had gone home in a foul mood, Lucetta walked through the warehouse examining the newly unpacked cargo that Sam had brought back from Asia and the Far East. The scent of sandalwood and spices mingled with the smoky sweetness of joss sticks and vetiver. Bales of silk, brocade in jewel colours and cotton threaded with gold and silver were piled high against the walls. Uncle Bradley might be a parsimonious old skinflint but he had an eye for a bargain and the new stock was worth a small fortune if sold to the highest bidders. Lucetta could only hope that Jeremiah had inherited some of the family business acumen. Well placed, this consignment of exotic cloth, furniture and artefacts would bring in enough money to put Froy and Son back in profit.

  She was cold and tired and her spirits had never been lower as she trudged homewards. Her bright hopes of a joyful reunion with Sam had burst like a soap bubble soaring towards the sun, only now it was bitterly cold and snow was falling steadily and settling on the ground in a thick white blanket. As she neared the house in Samson’s Green she saw footprints and a trail of dark spots leading to her front door. She did not have to examine them too closely to realise that they were drops of fresh blood. She opened the door and stepped inside, hesitating as she found the room in darkness except for a pale glow from the dying embers of the fire. Slumped in a chair she could just make out the shape of a man. ‘Lennie, what’s wrong?’ she cried.

  He did not answer, and as she lit the stub of a candle with shaking fingers, she gasped in horror. ‘Lennie, what happened to you?’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Guthrie’s eyes flickered and opened. He stared at her dully. ‘It’s me leg. Busted in the same place as before.’

  Lucetta lit a candle. Guthrie’s leg was twisted at an alarming angle and blood was dripping in a steady stream onto the dirt floor. ‘How did this happen, Lennie? I told you not to go out in the snow. Did you have a fall?’

  ‘Yes,’ he muttered. ‘I fell.’

  ‘I’ll have to cut the trouser leg so that I can clean the wound and stop the bleeding.’ Without giving him time to answer, Lucetta plucked a small cardboard box from the mantelshelf. Opening it she took out a pair of scissors, a needle and a spool of thread. She knelt down in front of him, cutting through the thick material with difficulty. The stench of the blood was making her feel sick but she forced her chilled fingers to work as gently as she could. The smallest movement caused Guthrie great pain, and when she had finally laid the wound bare she had to stifle a cry of horror at the sight of protruding splinters of bone and torn flesh.

  ‘It’s bad, ain’t it?’ Guthrie whispered. ‘I’m a goner, Lucy. I’m bleeding to death.’

  ‘You must see a doctor, Lennie. We must get you to the hospital.’

  He grasped her by the wrist, forcing her to look him in the eyes. ‘No. I can’t go there.’

  She was startled by the urgency in his voice and the desperation in his eyes. ‘You must have proper medical attention. I won’t let anyone hurt you.’ She spoke softly as she would to a frightened child, but Guthrie shook his head vehemently.

  ‘No hospital. That’s the first place they’ll look.’

  ‘What have you done, Lennie? Who’s looking for you?’

  ‘They’ll hang me for sure if they catch me. I was just after the old geezer’s half-hunter and he started shouting and calling out for help. I never meant to hurt him, Lucy, all I wanted to do was make him shut up.’

  Lucetta had been vainly attempting to staunch the flow of blood with her handkerchief, but this admission made her stop. She raised her eyes to his face and her blood spiked with an icy chill. ‘You didn’t …’

  Guthrie closed his eyes and tears seeped from beneath his eyelids. ‘I think I killed him, but I never meant to. There was people shouting and I heard a police whistle. I ran and ran and I could hear them close behind. I heard dogs baying and I climbed onto a roof. It was slippery and I fell …’

  ‘Don’t talk any more,’ Lucetta said urgently. ‘I can’t stop the bleeding, Lennie. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Remember what you done in Bali.’ He dashed his hand across his eyes, focusing them on her with difficulty. ‘Take me belt and tie it tight around the leg above me knee.’

  With trembling fingers Lucetta unbuckled his belt. She slipped it around his injured leg as he directed and fastened it as tightly as she could manage. The tourniquet worked after a fashion and the flow of blood lessened visibly, but she could see that he was very weak. She fetched water from the pump in the back yard and held a cup to his dry lips. ‘I have to get help, Lennie. You’ll die if you don’t see a doctor.’

  A grim smile twisted his lips. ‘It’ll be the noose for me when the law catches up with me.’

  She set the cup down on the tab
le well within his reach. She would have to put her personal feelings aside and beg Giles for help, but to walk through the snow to Lonsdale Square would waste precious time and she had no money for the cab fare. There was only one person she could think of who might be persuaded to give her a small loan. ‘I’m going out,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can and you’re not to move.’

  ‘That’s a laugh. I couldn’t make a run for it if the house was on fire.’

  ‘You’ll be all right, Lennie. I’m going to fetch help and you need not worry about the police.’ She had not stopped to take off her bonnet when she entered the house and she snatched up her damp shawl. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  She barely noticed the bitter chill outside as she sped towards Union Stairs and the Turk’s Head, where she hoped and prayed she would find Sam. To her intense relief she saw him seated in the taproom surrounded by the warehousemen and dock workers who had taken Jeremiah up on his offer of a free drink. Sam looked up as she threaded her way towards him and he raised his glass to her. ‘Well, if it isn’t little Miss Prim and Proper from Froy’s warehouse. Have you come to taste the landlord‘s excellent rum punch, my dear?’

  Ignoring the leers and suggestive remarks of the men sitting closest to him, Lucetta met his amused gaze without flinching. ‘May I have a word with you in private, Captain Cutler?’

  ‘Hey, mate, you’re on to a good thing there.’ A bearded man nudged Sam in the ribs and winked at Lucetta.

  ‘It won’t take a moment,’ she insisted.

  Sam eyed her curiously and his smile faded. ‘All right,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Come outside, young lady, and tell me what I can do for you.’

  Howls of laughter greeted this remark and Lucetta felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. She was hemmed in by curious onlookers but they stepped aside at a word from Sam. The air in the taproom was thick with smoke and alcohol fumes combined with the odour of unwashed bodies and Lucetta took a deep breath as she emerged into the comparatively fresh air outside.

  ‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ Sam said, leaning his shoulders against the pub window. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Guthrie?’

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point, Captain Cutler. I need to borrow some money. It’s an emergency or I would not ask.’

  He whistled through his teeth. ‘That’s to the point, certainly. Can you tell me why I should lend money to a complete stranger?’

  Lucetta was desperate. Guthrie’s life hung in the balance and whatever his past misdeeds she could not desert him now. She raised her chin to look Sam in the eyes. This was no time for false pride. ‘I am not a stranger, Sam. We once knew each other very well.’

  He frowned. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t place you, although there is something familiar about you and it’s been bothering me ever since we first met.’

  ‘I haven’t time for guessing games. I wasn’t drowned when the Caroline went down in the Thames. I was rescued and the man who saved me is badly injured and may be close to death for all I know. I need the cab fare to Islington where there is a doctor who may be able to save his life.’

  Sam moved away from the window, taking her by the shoulders and twisting her round to face the light from a gas lamp. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘No. It can’t be.’

  She met his startled gaze with a steady look, willing him to remember those heady days of love and romance in Bali. ‘Have I changed so much, Sam?’

  ‘Lucetta? No, it can’t be – I visited your grave and I spoke to your grieving relations. I can’t believe it is you, and yet …’ He fingered a strand of hair that had escaped from beneath her bonnet and he held it up to the light where it gleamed like molten gold. ‘By God, it is you.’ He released the curl, staring at her with wonder dawning in his eyes as he traced the outline of her face with a gentle finger. ‘My little Lucetta is alive and has grown up.’

  She pushed him away. ‘Stop that, Sam. I’m no longer your little Lucetta and you had quite forgotten me, but that doesn’t matter now. I want nothing from you other than a small loan. I get paid on Friday and you will have your money back in full.’

  He either did not hear or her words had not registered in his brain. ‘I can’t believe it. Lucetta, it really is you. But why …’

  She laid her finger across his lips. ‘There isn’t time for this. I hold you to nothing, Sam. Five shillings will more than cover the fare. Please, I’m begging you, help me.’

  ‘You must think a lot of this man,’ Sam said slowly. ‘But I don’t understand. Why are you working in the warehouse? You must own it in part at least?’

  ‘It’s a long story and this really is a matter of life and death. Are you going to lend me the money or not?’

  He took her by the arm. ‘I’ll do better than that, my dear. I’m coming with you and you can tell me the whole story during the cab ride.’

  Reluctantly at first but warming to her story as the hackney carriage trundled on its way to Islington, Lucetta related the events of the past three years, omitting nothing.

  Sam sat back against the squabs, listening intently. When she finished he let out a low whistle. ‘By God, what a tale. No wonder you look different from the pretty little thing I fell for in Bali.’ He hesitated, eyeing her anxiously. ‘Not that you aren’t attractive now, Lucetta. After all you’ve been through it’s no wonder you look thin and pale as a wax candle, but now I’m here I can put young Jeremiah right. Old Bradley will have to acknowledge you as your father’s rightful heiress when I stand up in court and tell them that we are engaged to be married and have been these last three years. You’ll be back in Thornhill Crescent in no time at all.’

  Lucetta gave him a long look. ‘Is that why you accompanied me now, Sam? Are you thinking that you will marry an heiress?’

  ‘I’ve never stopped loving you, my pet. My heart was buried in the cold earth with the girl I loved and now, by some miracle, she has been returned to me.’

  These were the words she had imagined him uttering so many times in the past. She wanted desperately to believe him. ‘Are you telling me the truth, Sam?’

  He made a show of crossing his heart and his smile embraced her like a kiss. ‘I’ve never lied to you, my love. I am yours heart and soul.’

  He reached out to take her hand but the cab slowed down and their fingers barely touched. The spell was broken and Lucetta came abruptly back to reality: this was not the time or the place for a romantic reunion. She peered out of the window as they came to a halt outside the Harcourts’ house in Lonsdale Square. Flinging the door open she climbed out of the cab.

  ‘Wait here, please, cabby. I won’t be long.’ She picked up her skirts and hurried up the path to hammer frantically on the door. Her breath formed clouds around her head as she waited impatiently for someone to answer her urgent summons. There were lights in the windows and in the upstairs drawing room she could see the outline of a Christmas tree hung with glass baubles and tinsel. She crossed her fingers, praying silently that Giles would be at home. She had not considered the fact that he might already be living in Dorset, but it occurred to her now and she became more and more agitated. She could have cried with relief when the maidservant opened the door.

  ‘Is Dr Harcourt at home?’ Lucetta stepped over the threshold without waiting for an invitation. ‘It’s an emergency. I must speak to him right away.’

  The maid took a step backwards. ‘The family are at dinner, miss. Call back in an hour.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. I must speak to him now.’

  ‘What is all the fuss?’ Giles emerged from the dining room, wiping his lips on a spotless white table napkin. It fell from his fingers and fluttered to the floor when he saw Lucetta, and a delighted smile wreathed his face. He came towards her holding out his hands. ‘My dear Lucetta, you’ve come home. Thank God.’

  ‘Giles, I need your help urgently.’

  His dark eyes scanned her face and his smile faded into a look of deep concern. ‘
You are not ill, are you? Come into the morning parlour and let me look at you.’

  She shook her head, taking him by the hands and tugging him towards the open door while the maid looked on in astonishment.

  ‘It’s not me, Giles,’ Lucetta said urgently. ‘There is a man bleeding to death who needs your help. You are the only one I could trust.’

  He seized his coat and hat from the hallstand, turning his head to address the gawping servant. ‘Tell my mother that I’ve been called out on an emergency.’ He snatched up his medical bag. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Thank you, Giles,’ Lucetta breathed. ‘I knew I could count on you.’ She ran out into the street, giving instructions to the cabby as Sam held out his hand to help her into the waiting cab.

  Giles was about to climb in after her but he paused when he saw Sam. ‘Is this the patient, Lucetta? He looks hale and hearty to me.’

  ‘This is Sam Cutler, Giles,’ Lucetta said, eyeing Sam nervously. She had told him almost everything, but she had omitted to mention that both Giles and Sir Hector had proposed marriage.

  Giles eyed Sam with a distinctly hostile glint in his dark eyes. ‘So you are Cutler.’

  ‘Get in please, Giles,’ Lucetta pleaded. ‘It’s Lennie who is in desperate need of medical attention. I’ll explain everything as we go.’

  He leapt in and slammed the door as the cab jolted forwards. ‘Why did you leave like that, Lucetta? What made you run away without a word?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now, Giles. The most important thing is to care for Lennie. I’m afraid he will die.’

  Giles took her hand and clasped it tightly. ‘I’ve scoured London trying to find you.’

  ‘This is all very pleasant,’ Sam drawled. ‘But the lady is with me now, cully. We have an understanding, if you get my drift.

  Lucetta turned on him angrily. ‘You don’t own me, Sam. A great deal has happened since we last met, and I owe Giles and his cousin Mary a great deal.’

  ‘I can see that you’re overwrought, my love,’ Sam said, making an obvious effort to control his temper. ‘When we get back to Samson’s Green I’ll go on to my lodgings and we’ll meet again tomorrow.’ He eyed Giles with a belligerent out-thrust of his chin. ‘We have the rest of our lives to look forward to.’