by Sam Gafford
“How do you do, my dear? I am Arthur Machen, a good and dear friend of Mrs. Hutchins.”
She faltered a bit, taken aback by his suddenness. “I am very well, good sir, and pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Ann Simmons and I am indeed a lodger here. Are you?”
“Alas, no. That honour belongs to my good friend, Albert Besame.” He waved me over, and I took her offered hand in greeting. “He has just joined your household today.” Arthur squeezed his way around her and whispered loudly in her ear. “Watch out for him, my dear. He’s a writer! They’re the worst kind!” Arthur chuckled and bounced down the stairs. “See you tomorrow, Albert!”
Ann looked after Arthur with a confused and slightly concerned look on her face.
“Please forgive my friend, Miss Simmons,” I said. “I’m afraid that Arthur tends to be a bit playful. I assure you that you have nothing to fear from me. I am a complete gentleman.”
“Oh? You are? That is a shame. I was hoping you were an absolute scoundrel!”
I had no idea what to say until she laughed. “Oh, my, you are a serious one, aren’t you? Dear me, I hope that you are more fun than you look.”
Stumbling for words, I said, “Appearances are often deceiving. Books and their covers, you know. Although I assure you that I am of a serious bent of mind . . . but not all the time.”
“That is very good to hear, Mr. Besame, but if you could perhaps move aside and allow me to enter my home?” She smiled, and in that smile I felt all the cares of my life melt away into nothingness. She came inside but didn’t seem to be very eager to walk away from me.
“Of course, of course, my pardon. Have you dined already?”
“I have. Mrs. Hutchins usually sets out an early dinner for me before I go out for my lessons.”
“Voice lessons, I assume?”
“Why, Mr. Besame,” she smiled, “are you a police detective like that famous Mr. Holmes in The Strand? How did you know I take voice lessons?”
Now it was my turn to smile. “All I had to do was listen to your speech. It is very musical, as if every word were sung.”
She was starting to blush. “If I were not mistaken, sir, I should think that you are trying to flatter me.”
“Merely enjoying the opportunity to speak with such a beautiful young lady. I wonder if you might take a cup of coffee or tea with me in the sitting room? Where Mrs. Hutchins could keep an easier eye on us instead of from behind the dining room door?”
She laughed and looked towards the door, where Mrs. Hutchins was busily trying to back away. “I really shouldn’t. I have a long day tomorrow and my voice needs to rest, but perhaps if it is only for a little while?”
“As long as you like. If you please?”
We went into the sitting room and Mrs. Hutchins brought us each a cup of her marvellous coffee. The next few hours were spent in a delightful cocoon of happy conversation as we talked and talked about many things. I told Ann of my youth in Cornwall and the life of a fisherman, while she in turn told me of growing up in a small village outside of London and of dreaming to become a singer. After her father’s death, she had sold their home and come to the city looking to make a career on the stage or find a position as a music teacher. So far she had not been able to do either, but she was enjoying the city and all the cultural treasures it had to offer. I told her of my desire to be a great author—and to my delight she did not laugh or mock my dream. Instead, she asked to read some of my work, to which I had to admit that it had all been burned for warmth back in that Tottenham Court Road hole. By the time we finished talking, I was deeply in love and, for the first time in years, felt that my life to come could be happy and successful.
I was a fool for so many reasons back then.
Chapter 4
A broken heart is a very pleasant complaint for a man in London if he has a comfortable income.
—George Bernard Shaw
When I awoke the next morning, I was in a new world of hope and possibilities. My spirit renewed, there was nothing that I could not accomplish. I quickly washed my face in the water basin and opened up the wardrobe to find a fine selection of clothes. Again, I felt indebted to Arthur and, right there, I resolved to be the best and truest friend that he would ever have. He would never accept money in repayment, but I vowed to follow him anywhere and always be by his side. It was a vow that I would later come to regret when I realised what it would cost me.
As I came bounding down the stairs, I was greeted with the aroma of a hot breakfast coming from the dining room. My stomach already grumbling from hunger, I got my second surprise of the day as Ann was already sitting at the table, waiting.
“Well, it’s about time! I was getting ready to have my breakfast alone.”
“My pardon. It has been a long time since I’ve had such a lovely bed to sleep in.”
Mrs. Hutchins came through the door with a plate of food. “So I take it that the room is to your liking then, Mr. Albert?”
I smiled. “Oh, very much so, Mrs. Hutchins. I dare say that everything here is to my liking.” Ann blushed slightly, but Mrs. Hutchins did not seem pleased.
“Now you mind yourself with all that sweet talk, Mr. Albert. I won’t have any funny business around here. Mr. Arthur said that you were a fine, upstanding gentleman.”
“And so I am. I am also a very hungry gentleman, Mrs. Hutchins, and very eager for what you have brought us.”
Mrs. Hutchins laid out a very satisfying breakfast with eggs and meat and more of her wonderful coffee. As we ate, Ann and I talked a bit more.
“And what do you have planned for today, Miss Simmons? More singing lessons?”
She smiled at me. “No, not today. I have a couple of auditions and I need to meet with a booking manager.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, he is someone who gets me auditions and introductions to all the right people. For a fee, of course.”
“Of course. I should imagine that he would have no trouble finding you work.”
“And why is that? You have never even heard me sing!”
“No, but that would only be a confirmation of what I already know. You have a voice fit for angels. I hope to have the pleasure of hearing you sing very soon.”
“Perhaps you will, Albert, perhaps you will.”
“Ah, so we are on first names now, Ann?”
She smiled again. “I call all my friends by their first names and you are my friend, are you not?”
“Always.” I gazed into her eyes and felt myself dwindle into nothingness. She engulfed my soul with a mere look.
Mrs. Hutchins coughed slightly from the doorway. “Perhaps Mr. Albert should pay attention to the time? He should be on his way if he is to arrive at work punctually.”
I looked at the clock on the wall and, for the first time that day, became aware of the time. She was right. Unless I hurried, I would be late.
“Oh, no, she’s right. I have to dash, Ann, please forgive me. I hate being late to anything.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Albert. Until later, then?”
“Later? Yes, most certainly.” I got to my feet and was halfway out the door. “Oh, Mrs. Hutchins! My compliments on the breakfast. I feel that I must watch myself before I gain too much weight from your cooking!”
I fairly flew down the street. There was more traffic that morning, and I noticed many people on their way. Some were obviously businessmen, while others were tradesmen. It was a good mix of people and most were probably from the middle class. I had never really seen anyone from the upper class and certainly not the ruling class, nor had I ever even been in their neighbourhoods. I probably couldn’t find their homes if I tried. I lived in a blissful blanket of ignorance, for I had never really seen any of the truly poor either. It was not a state I would be in for very long.
By the time I had gotten to The Brothers’ store, business was well underway. There were a couple of customers milling about looking at books, but there was someone els
e near the back to whom The Brothers were giving all their attention. A beautiful blonde woman who was wearing the most exquisite dress I had ever seen was talking to both of them, and she seemed extremely upset. I daresay the dress she was wearing cost more money than I had ever seen in my life. Wendell saw me and quickly ran over.
“Albert! Thank heavens you’re here. Robert and I have a very important client whom we must take care of immediately. Could you please just keep an eye on things out here for us?”
Before I could answer, Wendell went back and he and Robert quickly rushed the woman into a back office. Bewildered, I put my coat on the rack and prepared myself to help customers.
I was in the middle of speaking to a gentleman about a particularly fine edition of Don Quixote when a very fancy carriage pulled up in front of the store. There was some sort of crest on the side, but I couldn’t make it out because suddenly the back door of the store’s office opened and the blonde woman bolted out and into the carriage. It took off at a fast break and I was left to stare open-mouthed at my two employers, who were looking very shocked and pale. I told my customer that I would be back with him in a moment and walked over to The Brothers.
“Is everything all right?” I asked. Robert was firm, but Wendell looked as if he had been shaking.
Robert cleared his throat. “Everything is fine, Albert. Thank you for watching the store. Now, if you’d be so kind as to return to your cataloguing? It was simply a customer who had some concerns.”
I looked at Wendell, but he wouldn’t return my gaze. Confused, I made sure my customer was seen to, went down to the ‘Black Hole,’ and started my work.
Sometime later, Wendell came down to see me.
“Albert, I wanted to talk to you about what happened this morning.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, sir. It’s none of my business.”
Wendell smiled. “That’s good of you to say so. I thought you would be that sort of chap. You remember the other day when I mentioned that we sometimes have . . . ah . . . royal customers?”
“Yes?”
“Well, that was one of them. Actually, she wasn’t the customer. Her son was. She was concerned because her son apparently bought a great deal of books for a friend of his. These books were distasteful to her and she wished to confirm both that it was her son who purchased them and that we refrain from selling him any such material in the future.”
“Why were they distressful?”
“Um . . . I really shouldn’t say. Let it suffice that these particular books were of a similar theme and that they involved violent acts towards women. I do not appreciate these books, but they are not outlawed and, as book dealers, we cannot be censors. I think that you, above all else, can understand that the written word must be free and unfettered to go where it pleases . . . even if those places are not pleasing to everyone. Although these books are not unlawful, they can certainly be off-putting. Anyway, our dear lady was very upset to discover that her son had purchased them and even more distressed when she learned that they were for a friend of his.”
“I should think that that would put her mind at ease. Knowing that they weren’t his, I mean.”
“One would think that. But I gather she fears that this man has an undue influence over her son and that her son might be led to join in such violent thoughts. We have assured her that, although her son shall always be welcome inside our doors, his friend is not. I am taking an extraordinary risk in trusting you with this knowledge, Albert, do not fail me or prove that my judgement of you was erroneous.”
“I promise you, sir, I will not breathe a word of it. But, if I may ask, who was that woman?”
“She is a very honest lady, Albert, who is also tremendously sad. Her life, I fear, has not been what she hoped it would be.” Wendell stared at me and then sighed. “I suppose if I have told you all this already, then I may as well tell it all. She is Princess Alexandra of Denmark, the Princess of Wales, someday to be the Queen of England.”
I must have looked dumbfounded, for Wendell put his finger to his lips as a sign for silence.
“Do not divulge this information, Albert. As tradesmen, the identity of our customers (particularly our special customers) is sacrosanct. Often a bookseller must be as close-mouthed as a doctor or barrister. I trust that you understand me?”
I nodded.
“Good. Now let us hope that the rest of the day passes without incident.”
Thankfully, it did. I went back to work and tried to lose myself among the books, but the events of the morning kept creeping into my mind. I had actually seen the Princess of Wales! Even in far-off Cornwall, we knew about Princess Alex and how the whole of England loved her as one of their own. I also knew of the scandalous behaviour of her husband, Prince Albert Edward (known as ‘Bertie’ to his friends), and how he frequently shamed her with his gambling and whoring. He was an embarrassment to his mother, Queen Victoria, and few could imagine an England with him on the throne. As to the Princess’ son, I could make no guess, for she had two and, although I had seen pictures and drawings of them in the papers, I probably would not be able to recognise either one. I was certainly travelling in rarefied company now!
I worked through lunch again, more out of a desire to impress my new employers than anything else. But today, I felt the passage of time more acutely. The room itself felt darker and smaller, and I began to feel the walls closing in on me. It soon became clear to me why Arthur had been so eager to escape the ‘Black Hole.’ By the time Wendell called down to me at the end of the day, I was only too happy to leave.
“Ah, Albert,” Robert said, “I thought perhaps we had lost you amidst that Sargasso Sea of books!”
“No, I’m still among the living.”
“Good, good. Wendell told me he spoke to you about this morning. I assume then that we are quite clear on the subject?”
“Yes, sir. Quite clear.”
“Excellent. It is not always easy dealing with our special clients, but we must do what we can, yes?”
I nodded.
“Good. Well, off with you then. See you on the morrow.”
I bid good night to them both and rushed out into the street. The air was like ambrosia to me despite its polluted nature. It was deliciously sweet compared to that of the ‘Black Hole,’ and I breathed it in like a starving man before a platter of beef.
I passed a newsie on the street and felt a pang of regret that I had no money to buy a paper. Soon I would be able to indulge in such things again and perhaps even buy a few of the books I had already catalogued. There was a spring in my step as I turned the corner down my new street and nearly ran into a man wearing a leather apron. I expressed my apologies, but he merely grunted and kept walking. To my surprise, Mrs. Hutchins was standing in the front doorway, staring after the man.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Albert, sometimes my William doesn’t watch where he’s going. He’s not the most sociable of men, I fear. Please come inside, I’ll get your supper on the table.”
“It’s quite all right, Mrs. Hutchins, I’m afraid I was in a bit of a rush. I was hurrying home in case . . .” But she didn’t let me finish the thought.
“Yes, Miss Ann is inside waiting for you. Now get inside before the whole street starts making a fuss.”
Ann was already waiting at the dinner table, sipping a cup of tea.
“And here he is after slaving away in the salt mines all day. And how was your day?”
“Amazing! I actually saw . . .” but then I stopped myself. I had to keep my promise to The Brothers.
“Saw what?”
“Ah, a—a first edition Robinson Crusoe. And signed by the author too!” It wasn’t a lie, as I had seen such a book during my cataloguing. Ann looked at me slightly askew as if she could not understand why a book would prompt such a display.
“Such passion for only a book! I wonder what other things might excite you so.”
Mrs. Hutchins barged in with supper. “Keep wonderin
g, my dear Miss Ann, just don’t find out around here!”
I sat down and was promptly greeted with a plate full of mutton, expertly cooked, with roasted potatoes and some green vegetables I had never seen before. “And how was your day, Ann?”
She looked sadder. “Not so well, I fear. My auditions did not go well, but the good news is that Mr. Baker agreed to represent me.”
“Really? Well, that is good news, isn’t it?”
“No, not really. He wanted a hundred pounds up front and for me to sign a contract giving him complete control over what I do and when, as well as a generous percentage.”
“What did you tell him?”
She laughed. “What do you think? I told him that I had no intention of becoming his slave and walked out. You should have seen his face! I daresay no one has ever told him that before.”
I laughed with her. She had a delightful laugh. Even now, if I close my eyes, I can still hear it.
The rest of the dinner passed pleasantly as we talked about books and music. When she asked what my plans were for the rest of the evening, I suddenly felt torn. I would have dearly loved to keep her company all night, but I knew that Arthur was due any minute for one of our walks. Regretfully, I had to let her know that I would be out for the evening.
“Indeed? And doing what, if I might ask?”
“My friend, Arthur, has asked me to join him for some nightly walks so that he might show me the city.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I had hoped that we might take a walk ourselves, but if you are already committed I suppose I shall have to find some other way to occupy my time.”
She smiled coyly at me. I was not experienced with women, but even I knew that what was now expected of me was that I should cancel my time with Arthur and spend it with her. But that was something I did not feel I could do.
“My deepest apologies, Ann. But I cannot cancel on Arthur at so late a time. Perhaps tomorrow?”