Sophie nods and moves to my trunks.
‘Have you been to the Exchange before, Miss Lizzy?’ she asks.
I shake my head.
‘Not inside,’ I admit. ‘Though I have passed by. It looks very large and fine,’ I add, thinking of the huge stone construction. ‘Like the world’s finest open air market, but for business and trade, rather than vegetables and meat.’
Sophie smiles at the description.
‘Shall you wear a more sober dress?’ she asks. ‘For it is mostly men inside, is it not?’
‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘Perhaps the green and gold dress. That looks like commerce, does it not?’
‘I think it a good choice, Miss Lizzy. But you should be careful,’ she adds. ‘I do not think it wise for women to be seen there.’
Sophie has begun giving me these snippets of advice. And I suspect they come via Mrs Tomkinson. They are both colluding to help me act like a lady and I am grateful.
‘Ladies are not seen where men do business?’ I clarify, turning the information in my mind and wondering what damage I could feasibly do my ‘reputation’.
‘Not so far as I know,’ says Sophie. ‘But you are so beautiful,’ she adds loyally, ‘I cannot imagine any man would complain.’
Once my outfit is complete, I descend the stairs to meet with Edward. He is giving orders to servants in the hallway and stops to watch as I come down.
‘Very lovely,’ he says approvingly. ‘A perfect dress for the Exchange.’
I smile and a hand goes up to my hair, which has been styled semi-formally with grey and green ribbons and feathers.
‘You see I have filled my hair with pretend emeralds and silver,’ I reply. ‘So I might be seen to have some value of my own.’
Edward grins. Then he notices the servants are staring up at me and looks at them admonishingly. Immediately, the staff return to their duties and I walk down the rest of the stair to only Edward.
‘You look a picture,’ he murmurs into my ear, as I reach him. ‘It will be hard for me to do business, knowing you are waiting nearby.’
‘I am not to enter the Exchange?’ I ask.
He shakes his head, smiling.
‘Not the business part,’ he says. ‘That is no place for ladies. There is talk of riots, with the recent slavery protests.’
Ironically I feel a little put out. Despite this apparent care for me to be treated like an aristocrat. I should have liked to see inside the Exchange. And I have no fear for my reputation, after all.
‘Then where shall I be?’ I am wondering where a finely dressed woman might wait alone in London.
‘You shall see presently,’ he says, with a mysterious smile. ‘But I think you should like it.’
‘Will Fitzroy be at the Exchange?’ I ask, thinking I should not like to see him.
‘Fitzroy will be there and Caroline as well. But you shall not need to meet either of them.’
‘Why is Caroline there, if women are not allowed?’ I protest.
‘She will not be in the Exchange building either,’ he replies. ‘Caroline wishes to buy some silks imported by Exchange traders. They are kept in a different place, for ladies to buy.’
‘But that is not where I shall be?’ I am confused now.
Edward smiles. ‘No,’ he replies, kissing my forehead. ‘You shall be in a special place. Because you are special.’
The Exchange is even larger than I remember when we arrive.
It is a huge building, with neo-classical pillars and a frontage inspired by a classical temple. Inside is a wide courtyard, ringed with fine shops selling the spoils of the colonies. Beyond the courtyard is a sealed walkway of smaller rooms, where business is conducted.
As we step into the Exchange courtyard, finely dressed men rush to and fro, alongside the more ruggedly attired admirals, captains and buccaneers.
‘What business do they do?’ I ask, watching two boys heave a money chest into the inner business confines.
‘Seafaring trade,’ says Edward. ‘Men come to buy and sell goods from ships, or to fund shipping missions in the hope of making their money and more. Sailors come to beg funds for voyages and make a case for a trading venture.’
‘It sounds exciting,’ I say, taking in the rush of adventure that seems to surround the Exchange.
‘It is an incredible place,’ agrees Edward. ‘It quite took my breath away when I first stepped inside. Fortunes are made and lost within these walls.’
‘And you will have your ship for trade,’ I murmur.
‘Yes,’ he agrees. ‘Once the ship is secured, Fitzroy has trading contacts. He will set up on known routes and we will trade for goods.’
We both watch as a captain and lordly dressed man make their way out arm in arm. They seem to have settled on some happy agreement and the exhilaration is evident in both their faces.
We push forward into a group of people petitioning for charity and funds. And a man dressed in government clothes is suddenly at our side.
‘Would you give to the district purse, Your Ladyship?’ he asks, bowing low.
I turn in surprise. For I recognise the man. It is the beadle who chased me out of Mayfair as a whore, when I was searching for dressmakers.
My eyes widen.
‘I know you,’ I say.
The beadle bows lower, doffing his hat almost to the floor.
‘Perhaps from the Montfort ball?’ he suggests. ‘Her ladyship was kind enough to give funds for Mayfair street work.’
‘Did your work clear the streets of whores?’ I ask. ‘For I was one of those you threatened with a horsewhip.’
The man frowns and when he sees I am not joking, his face sets in horrified recognition.
‘I …’ he stutters.
‘I would not give funds for such an uncharitable business,’ I say, cutting him off. ‘You should focus your efforts on helping fallen women, not bullying them.’
The beadle’s face is a picture. His eyes skirt to Edward and back to me.
‘If I caused offence I am truly sorry …’ he begins.
‘I am not offended,’ I reply. ‘But you should be more careful to be kind in future.’
‘Of course, Your Ladyship.’ The beadle bows again – apparently his default gesture for aristocracy – and scuttles away.
Edward raises an eyebrow at me.
‘Someone from your past life?’
‘Not so past as you might imagine,’ I reply. My eyes sweep the rest of the Exchange and go back to Edward.
He is watching a shipment of colourful goods. Strange-shaped fruits and bright cloths. Discoveries from the New World, I deduce, taking in the interest that follows the arrival.
Edward is observing the unpacking of the medley with something wistful in his face.
‘I always found the exploring ships most thrilling,’ I say, following his gaze.
‘Yes,’ he says, still entranced by the cargo. ‘It is a heady kind of business.’
‘So where would you have me wait?’ I ask, after a moment. ‘If not with you?’
He breaks out of his reverie and his face lights up.
‘Ah,’ he says, in a pleased way. ‘I had forgotten. I have chosen a good place for you. Come with me.’
And he takes me by the hand as easily as if I were his real wife.
Edward leads me around the far side of the Exchange and through the high stone pillars.
‘The far side is the trading market,’ he explains. ‘For contracts and promises. This is the actual market. Where many fine things may be bought.’
My eyes open wide in wonder as he leads me in.
‘I never knew this existed,’ I say, taking in the stalls heaped with spices and jewels.
‘It is a fine place, is it not?’ says Edward, smiling at my amazement. ‘All the wealth of the colonies is here.’
I am so in wonder of it all that I have not stopped to think what purpose he might have for bringing me.
We pass a stall that sells dishes of
clotted cream for a penny and then we’re at the back, with a few closed shops.
They are rich-looking, with little glass fronts and real gold leaf painting out their purpose. I read the window.
‘SR Oaks. Fine jewellers.’
I turn to Edward in confusion. ‘A jewellers?’
He nods, looking pleased at my reaction.
‘Shall we go inside?’
I clutch onto his hand tightly as he pushes the door of the shop, causing a thick iron bell to jangle. I look up at it in alarm. Edward gives me a reassuring squeeze.
A tall woman in sumptuous silk ascends from a hidden cellar to greet us.
‘Lord Hays!’ She sounds both shocked and delighted.
Edward bows.
‘I have some business in the Exchange,’ he explains. ‘I will be gone around an hour. Would you attend to this lovely young lady? She is a relative of my mother’s.’
The woman steps forward as if to claim me.
‘Of course, Your Lordship,’ she says.
‘She would like some ornament for her hair,’ he says. ‘I think something with sapphires. But she must choose what she likes.’
‘Sapphires?’ I cannot believe he would be so generous.
Part of me is delighted. But another part feels that this is wrong. Like a clumsy seduction. A week ago I should have been thrilled to be bought fine jewels. But after what has passed between Edward and me … Something seems a little amiss. He is treating me like a courtesan and I realise with a shock that I do not like it.
‘Perhaps,’ he says quietly, ‘you might wear them for me, after our week is over. For I might return to London after my business is done.’
I make him a pretend smile. Because I cannot bring myself to answer.
It is the first time in our arrangement he has sought to induce me with gifts. A week ago this was what I wanted. So why is the gesture turning me cold?
I think of Caroline, waiting somewhere nearby. I try to imagine being a mistress to her wife and find I cannot.
The shop-woman is moving her lips silently, committing the request to memory, and passing a solicitous arm around my waist.
‘Should you like to sit?’ she asks. I nod dumbly, looking at Edward who has an encouraging expression.
I have never been inside a fine shop of brick and glass before, and I wonder if there is an expected way to behave. My scant accessories were bought from the open stalls on London Bridge – Mrs Wilkes’s cost-cutting measure.
‘Will you take a dish of cream?’ the shop-woman asks, as I place myself on a comfortable chair to the side of the small shop.
I look at Edward uncertainly.
He nods.
‘Yes. Please,’ I agree.
The woman walks quickly to the door, opens it and then bellows out into the wider Exchange beyond.
‘Emily! Bring a dish of cream!’
She shuts the door and her face reverts to quiet solicitude.
‘Hair ornaments,’ she says, half to herself. Then she vanishes into the back of the shop.
‘You have often mentioned that you lack the right ornament for your hair,’ explains Edward.
‘Yes,’ I reply, my voice sounding strangely formal. ‘It is delightful that you thought of it.’
The woman returns, waddling under the weight of a huge stack of trays. Carefully, she places them down and selects the first, holding it out in a flourish.
‘Oh!’ I am charmed despite myself and turn to Edward to include him in my delight.
The tray is filled with the most exquisitely wrought hair ornaments. They are delicately fashioned from silver and gold, with artistically laid jewels.
My hand reaches to touch them, mesmerised.
‘They are beautiful,’ I say.
The ornaments are many different shapes. Birds and butterflies, flowers and leaves, and all kinds of arrangements of gems.
I pick out a dainty silver comb with pearls dripping from it.
‘I cannot believe they are so lovely,’ I say.
‘Finest silver, with the silversmith stamp, as you see,’ says the shop-woman, adopting a pleased-sounding sales patter. ‘And the jewels are bought here, direct from the ships. So you can be assured we have the best colours and the best price.’
She is talking to Edward rather than me.
‘What do you think?’ I ask him, gazing at the jewels.
He eyes the selection. Then he picks out a lovely bird of paradise, its wings spread wide, with sapphires and rubies detailing the feathers.
‘I think this should suit you very well,’ he says. ‘A bird flying free. That is how I think of you. A wild creature who must always have her freedom.’
I look at him, touched. I had not known he thought of me that way. Perhaps I have misjudged his intention. Carefully I take the jewelled bird from his hands, my eyes fixed on his.
‘Yes,’ I say softly. ‘I think this would do very well.’
Edward breaks the gaze first, looking back at the box.
‘What of some butterflies as well?’ he suggests, picking out two smaller pieces, with ornately jewelled wings. ‘They would look very pretty with your curls.’
They are lovely, the butterflies. I am also conscious they are so much more expensive than anything I have ever owned.
The door clangs and a girl enters, holding a dish of cream that she presents to me.
‘Thank you,’ I say, taking the china dish. There is a little silver spoon and I take a polite mouthful.
‘Mmmmm!’ I announce, louder than I mean to. ‘This is delicious.’
Edward is smiling at me.
‘Try some,’ I say, holding out a spoon.
He hesitates and then takes an obliging bite.
‘That is good,’ he acknowledges, sounding almost surprised. ‘Very good.’
‘Emily,’ says the shop-woman, turning to the girl, ‘fetch the best wine from downstairs.’
She turns to me. ‘Should you like Chablis or Bordeaux?’
‘Chablis please,’ I reply, realising less than a week ago I should I have been confused by both terms. My time with Edward has educated me more than I realised.
‘Should you take a glass, Your Lordship?’ asks the jeweller.
He raises a hand.
‘No. Thank you. I have business to attend to.’
He glances out of the window at a large clock in the Exchange.
‘I must go attend to my affairs,’ he says to the shop-woman.
‘Yes, Your Lordship.’ The woman curtsies and her eyes flick to me. ‘Should you like to set a figure for the jewels?’
‘Put everything on my account,’ says Edward. ‘Let her spend whatever she likes.’
He winks at me. ‘There is no limit. So long as she is smiling when I return.’
‘Of course, Your Lordship,’ agrees the shop-woman.
Edward turns to me.
‘I shall only be gone an hour,’ he says apologetically.
‘I shall be very bored spending your money,’ I tease.
He hesitates and then takes my hand, speaking low.
‘Stay inside the shop. There has been talk of riots these last few days.’
His eyes shift to the shop-woman, clearly not wanting to concern her. ‘Do not wander out into the Exchange,’ he concludes.
‘I have no reason to,’ I point out.
He smiles and kisses my hand. Then he makes us both a low bow, lingering on me last, before turning on his heel and exiting the shop.
The shop-woman turns to her assistant who has arrived back with a silver tray and wine.
‘Lord Hays is the most handsome of them all, is he not?’ she asks, taking a glass and pouring it to the brim with white wine. She is studying me, clearly wondering what our true relationship is.
‘I am not his relative,’ I admit. ‘We have a … a short arrangement.’
She hands the wine to me with an approving nod at my honesty.
‘Well, my dear,’ she breathes, ‘you have certa
inly done well for yourself. Very well,’ she adds, sounding pleased. ‘From what I hear, every girl in London had hopes of winning him,’ she continues, her eyes following his retreating figure through the shop glass. ‘And here he is, all eyes for you.’
She pours her own modest glass of wine and takes a sip.
‘Perhaps he will take a place for you in the city?’ she suggests.
‘He has been kind,’ I say. ‘But I am not sure I should like to be his kept mistress.’
A week ago to be Edward’s courtesan would have been my dearest wish. But our time together seems to have awoken something in me. Something that refuses to be cheapened.
The jeweller breaks into a great wide grin and clasps my hand.
‘Very good, very good, my dear,’ she agrees. ‘For there is little enough freedom for us women, is there not? You take your life while you are young and beautiful. Surrender your liberty to a man when you are too old to do else.’
She straightens up.
‘Shall we look at some of the hairpins?’ she asks. ‘We have some beautiful jewels among them. We may select the brightest and set them how you choose.’
I nod, taking a deep sip of wine. This seems like it will be merry.
‘We shall be sure you have the latest fashion,’ she adds. ‘No other lady shall have it. And no one should wonder why you have Lord Hays and they do not. For they shall blame their jeweller.’
I laugh and the shop-woman begins sorting through her various trays of jewels.
‘They are so very lovely,’ I say, gazing at the elaborate silverwork.
‘Perhaps you are hungry for more than cream?’ asks the woman as she lays out the jewels. ‘We may send the girl for beef cuts. There is a good tavern nearby.’
‘I am a little hungry,’ I say cautiously. ‘But I have been eating rich food for days. I should very much like a plain hot sausage.’
‘Such as the street stalls sell?’
I nod, wondering if I have committed some dire misdeed, but the shop-woman smiles broadly and pats my arm.
‘I should like a sausage myself,’ she says, beaming. ‘Emily will fetch us some. There are many sellers on London Bridge. She should be back in ten minutes.’ The woman thinks for a moment. ‘I shall have her bring some good ale back. For that goes better with a sausage than wine.’
Masquerade: Can a street-girl become a lady? Page 19