Kitty Peck and the Child of Ill-Fortune (12 page)

He looked up at me now. ‘Do you? I know some who would call it weakness.’

There was a long silence.

I folded my arms. ‘So, that’s why I’ve been summoned to Pearl Street, is it? A lecture?’

Telferman shifted in his chair. ‘Not entirely.’ He reached for the key that hung on a long black silk ribbon around his neck and fitted it into the lock of the top drawer of his desk. I heard a click.

‘I have something for you.’

Telferman laid two envelopes on the desk in front of him. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward so that his greasy black sleeves rested on top of the pages. I couldn’t see the writing clear now, but from the briefest of views I thought I recognised the hand.

He didn’t move, just stared at me. That roll of hair up top was so stiff with oil I could crack it with a spoon. ‘This desire to be loved Kitty, Katharine . . .’ he corrected himself. ‘It is a flaw. The Barons will be looking for your weak spot. Remember this. You will have to account for yourself and show them you are worthy. When the summons comes you must be ready.’

‘Summons?’ It was an odd word to use. ‘I thought it was all arranged. I was just waiting for you to give me the final details.’ I glanced down at the edge of one of the envelopes poking out from under his cuff – perhaps it was all written there?

Telferman started to make a wheezing noise. At first I thought he was choking, but then I realised he was laughing. Considering he’d never done that before in front of me it was hardly surprising I didn’t recognise the sound of it.

He wiped his mouth with the stained fingers of his left hand, but deftly pushed the letters to one side so that they remained hidden under the arm still resting on the desk.

‘I am touched that you imagine the Barons would vouchsafe to me the workings of their innermost circle, but I am afraid that other than knowing that the Vernal Court will meet in the first week of May I can tell you nothing, not the place, not even the date or the time. It was always this way with your . . . with The Lady.’

I swallowed and pulled at a frayed loop of brocade parting company with the handle of the fancy cloth bag in my lap. I didn’t want the Beetle to know how much the thought of this meeting scared me. I’m not a nervous type, I know that well enough. I push things down and lock them away when I don’t want to dwell on them. I’d been doing this with regard to the Barons.

Lady Ginger, my grandmother as it turned out, had been one of them. For all that she was spare as a rake and likely a hundred years older than Queen Victoria, she was the most terrifying person I’d ever met (and I was grateful that hadn’t occurred too often). Lady Ginger was brilliant and hard as diamond. Something like limelight came off her in waves shining a blinding light into the darkest corners, only it wasn’t warming – that light was cold and it was cruel, like she was.

And if she was one of the Barons, what were the rest of them like?

I cleared my throat. ‘Vernal Court, you say?’

‘Spring, Katharine. The Barons hold court once each season. You will be . . . inducted to your place among them at their Vernal session and in good time I will furnish you with information sufficient to enable you to offer your first parable.’

He must have dialled the look on my face. ‘The parables are reports, Katharine. You will be required to give an account of the quarter’s business in Paradise. I will assist you in the compilation of this first submission, but soon, when you are fully conversant with the extent of your . . . holdings, you will assess for yourself, as The Lady did. There is little more to say – other than to be ready for the call. As you already know, it will come during the first week of May.’

Less than a fortnight then?

‘So you aren’t coming with me?’ I don’t know why – he certainly hadn’t given me a reason to think it – but when I’d imagined the meeting, just occasionally you understand, I’d thought the Beetle would be there with me, standing just behind, all got up in shiny black and reeking of naphtha. In a way I found it comforting.

‘What a ridiculous question.’ He blinked slowly behind his spectacles and just for a second an odd expression crossed his face. Looking back I swear it was sympathy I saw there. Whatever it truly was I never found out because he looked down and pulled the letters out from under his sleeve with a flourish that put me in mind of a conjuror and a rabbit.

‘I have been instructed to give you these. Read them when you are alone. I will make the necessary arrangements.’ He flipped the letters over so I still couldn’t see the writing.

‘Here.’ He pushed them across the desk top. When I didn’t move he took off his spectacles and twiddled them about by one of the spindly gold arms. The glass caught the sunlight from the grimy window.

‘Well, Katharine?’

‘It’s just . . .’ I frowned. ‘You said you didn’t know where or when this meeting was going to take place so how are you going to make the arrangements?’

He sniffed. ‘That will become apparent. Now please, I am a busy man – mainly on your account, I might add. Take them, read them and rely on my service.’ He reached for the black ribbon round his neck and bent to lock the desk again, then he stood and went to open the door. The clock on the mantle clicked, drew breath and chimed eleven times.

‘So late already?’ As Telferman rubbed his hands together I heard the papery dryness of his skin. ‘Good day, Katharine.’

I rose, took up the letters, pushed them into my bag and stepped past him into the narrow hallway. Just before he closed the door behind me he spoke again, quietly, through the crack.

‘The most dangerous among them is Lord Kite – remember that, Kitty.’

It was almost a whisper. I turned round, confused and, I confess it, surprised to hear him call me that, but now the Beetle’s door was shut.

When I got back to Salmon Lane I folded the letters together and pushed them back into my bag. One was easy enough to understand – a set of clipped instructions in a familiar looping hand. The other was . . . tell truth, I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. Inside the second blank envelope was a fold of thick creamy paper with a pattern embossed at the top and a single word – a string of letters – written crisp in black ink underneath. The word began with a ‘K’.

I looked down to fasten the strings of the bag and caught a movement in the gutter. A bird scuttled awkwardly away – a starling, it was, feathers all tatty and spare, one damaged wing held oddly to the side. I wondered what Nanny Peck would make of that.

As I climbed the steps to The Palace the doors swung open. Tan Seng bowed and moved aside to let me enter. I bowed back.

‘Peggy!’

I threw my bonnet down on the hall table beneath the painting of the ham-faced lad from the attic and called again. A moment later she leaned over the banister rail a floor above and brought her fingers to her lips. ‘He’s asleep.’ She mouthed the words, held her head to one side and brought her fingers together in a prayer steeple next to her ear in a theatrical proximation of sleep.

I smiled, Peggy was no actress. I allowed Tan Seng to help me with my coat and went up the stairs to the first landing.

‘Robbie’s in there.’ Peggy nodded her head to the double doors leading through to the room I’d set up as a parlour. ‘He’s just gone off,’ she whispered. ‘Poor little lamb was tired out after our walk this morning, but I couldn’t get him to settle.’

‘You took him out! You know what I said about that – you’re not to take him anywhere without telling me.’ The words came out too loud.

‘Shhh! You’ll wake him up again. The bleedin’ parrot’s bad enough.’ Peggy scowled. ‘It seemed a crime to keep him inside on such a beautiful morning. Fresh air is good for him and besides he’s used to coming around with me everywhere and seeing people. It’s not natural being locked up in here all day, just the two of us, mainly. This is a dark house, Kitty.’ She shook her head. ‘And not just on account of the memories. Besides, even if his father came knocking for him we wouldn’t have gone far, would we?’

I didn’t know what to say.

Lucca was right about Peggy. After that encounter at The Gaudy, I didn’t want to think that I’d put her in any sort of danger, or the baby come to that, but I didn’t want to frighten her neither. So, next morning I went round to Risbies and told her that I’d had a message from Robbie’s father. The gist of it, I lied, was that he was coming over soon to collect his kid. I explained that as David Lennox had given his son personally into my care, I felt bad about farming him out and thought I’d best take him back to Salmon Lane so that when he came for him he didn’t know any different.

I saw the way Peggy’s face fell as we sat there talking in her little room. I looked around at the dainty things she’d put together for her and Danny – good china, cushions and that – and at the little cot by the window, all fringed with lace, and smelling of soap. She was making a nest here, I thought.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘if it’s the money, I’ll see you all right.’

‘Money!’ Peggy stood up and went to the window. She kept her back to me as she answered carefully. ‘It’s not the money, Kitty. Oh, it’s helpful all right and I won’t deny we need it what with Danny’s . . .’ She turned round and looked down into the cot. Robbie was babbling away and sucking on the edge of a blanket.

‘I . . . I’ve grown fond of him. I know it hasn’t been very long, but he’s a dear little soul.’ She knelt to pick his poppet off the rug and tucked it into the cot. ‘You’re . . . many fine things, Kitty, but you’re not exactly, well, that’s to say . . . you’re not a natural with little ones, are you?’

I sighed. ‘No. I’m not like you, Peg. But I won’t have him for long. David will be coming for him soon.’

I wished that was true – for lots of reasons.

Then again, what was I supposed to say? There was every likelihood I’d put one of my closest friends in danger because I wanted to please a man I barely knew – even if he was a man I found myself thinking about more often than was decent. The only way to make sure Peggy was safe was to take Robbie away from her. I watched her tweak his fat brown fingers one by one and heard him gurgle with delight. That’s when it came to me.

‘Tell you what, Peg, why don’t you come to The Palace each day to look after him for me and perhaps some nights too? Dan’ll be all right about that, won’t he?’

She grinned and nodded eagerly as I went on, ‘Thing is, I don’t want you letting on that you’re still looking after a kid. If anyone asks, tell them your cousin’s taken her boy home to Archway. You’re to say you’re coming to help me out at The Palace, nothing more. It’ll be true enough.’

‘But why can’t I say anything about him?’ Peggy’s pretty brown eyes puzzled up.

Over in the cot, Robbie made a burbling noise as he chewed contentedly on the rabbit. I looked down at the rag rug. It was a good question.

‘Because . . . because there’s enough talk about me going round the halls as it is. If it was to get about that I suddenly had a baby in The Palace, then folk’d put their two-penneths together and make a bent sovereign quicker than Dismal Jimmy can down a pint of whisky. You see that, don’t you?’

I was glad when she nodded.

‘And you’ll get Dan to button it too? I know what he’s like for talk. You might as well stick a penny green on his forehead sometimes before you send him out the door to let people know he’s got news.’

She grinned and nodded again.

‘Listen, I’ll pay you the same rate – more for nights – and when David Lennox comes for his son he’ll find Robbie happy as a sandboy on Ramsgate beach.’

I wasn’t too happy now.

‘How did you get out?’ I pulled Peggy across the landing and into a little room across the hall I used as an office. I closed the door and gestured for her to sit down on a wooden-ended couch pushed against the wall. It was a dark Chinese affair carved over with dragons and suchlike. It put me in mind of the chair Lady Ginger’s men had carried her on to the side of Ma’s grave. It was bleedin’ uncomfortable, I knew that. I used it whenever Fitzy dropped by to keep our meetings short.

‘Open the door, Kit.’ Peggy perched on the edge of the red-padded seat. ‘If he cries we won’t hear him.’ I reached for the handle and pulled the door open a little way.

‘What do you mean “how did you get out?” I’m not a prisoner here, am I?’ Peggy’s large dark eyes were full of confusion. She shifted on the couch. ‘This thing’s worse than a park bench.’

‘No, of course not.’ I wondered what to say next.

Since I’d taken Robbie back to The Palace to live with me two days back I’d given orders to Tan Seng and Lok that no one was to come in or go out without my say so, and that meant Peggy too if Robbie was with her. Fact of the matter – she
was
a kind of prisoner, although I wouldn’t want her to think it.

I pretended to arrange papers into a neat stack. ‘I just . . . well, Tan Seng usually tells me about the comings and goings here – trade and that – and he didn’t mention anything about you two taking a stroll, that’s all.’

Peggy grinned. ‘He was talking to a man at the door when we went. I was down in the kitchen—’

‘You’ve been down there?’ I was amazed. I always thought of going down to the basement as an incursion into the brothers’ territory.

Peggy nodded. ‘Lok lets me warm milk on the range. We’d gone down to do that, I had Robbie with me. I looked out into the yard and it was such a fine day that I just took it on me that we should go for a walk.’

‘So you went out across the yard and through the gate at the back?’

‘Yes. And then up Samuel Street into Catherine Street and along to the churchyard at St Dunstan’s. We fed the sparrows.’

I flicked some imaginary dust off the book on the top of the desk. ‘You . . . you must take care, Peggy, you can’t . . .’

She stood up and covered my hand with hers. ‘Don’t worry about that, Kit. Robbie’s been the best medicine possible to bring me back to myself again. Listen – he’s awake.’ She rustled out through the door and crossed the hall. I could hear Robbie crying for attention but he stopped almost as soon as Peggy got to him.

I followed and stood at the entrance to the parlour watching them. She scooped Robbie up from his basket into her arms and held him high over her head so that he squealed with pleasure. Then she swung him down and twirled around, holding him close – all the while humming a song from the halls. Despite myself I grinned and folded my arms.

‘Good thing you’re not teaching him the words to that, Peg. David Lennox will wonder what sort of company his little lad’s been keeping if he comes out with the chorus one day.’

Peggy laughed and whirled around again. As I watched, I knew that one day soon she’d likely be a mother herself to Danny’s children and they’d be lucky to have her, like he was.

There was a sound from the landing behind me. Tan Seng bowed and I went out to join him.

‘A man called today, Lady.’

I nodded. ‘Peggy told me. What did he want?’

‘You, Lady. He asked if you were here.’

I frowned. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘That you were not here. Then he asked if you were with Mr Fratelli.’

‘Lucca?’

Tan Seng nodded. ‘I said I did not know.’

‘Did he leave a message or a card?’

He shook his head. ‘The man was not from London, Lady. He was not from England. His voice was hard and his skin was pale, like milk. His hair almost white.’

‘White?’ Peggy had come out onto the landing to listen. Robbie was balanced on her hip now and chewing the ear of the cloth rabbit with a look of stern concentration.

‘Now that’s a coincidence.’

‘What is?’ I turned from Tan Seng to look at her.

‘When we were in the churchyard a man spoke to us. He took quite a shine to you, didn’t he?’ She jiggled Robbie about. ‘Didn’t he?’

I straightened up. Something – maybe a sixth sense, if I believed in that kind of thing – made me suddenly very alert. ‘Why was that a coincidence, Peg?’

‘The white hair. The man who came to sit with us had long white hair and a foreign accent too. German he was, maybe? Or Polish. I reckon he was a sailor up from the docks. He had bright blue eyes. I thought he was odd-looking at first, but actually, after a bit I thought he was quite a charmer. Thing is, he was getting a bit . . . attentive and I knew Danny wouldn’t like it, so we came back.’

Bells were going off in my head now like it was shift change at Grand Surrey. ‘Did he follow you?’

Peggy shook her head. ‘Why would he do that? I think he was just out for a bit of company. There were other people in the churchyard too – a young couple getting friendly. It made him feel lonely, I reckon. He said he knew a little lad back home – wherever that was – who looked just like Robbie here. He asked if he was mine.’

‘What did you say?’

Peggy flushed. ‘I . . . I told him he was. I didn’t mean any harm by it. It’s just that sometimes when I’m with him I like to imagine what it would be like if he really was mine. I’m that fond of him, Kit, it could almost be true.’

I felt for the letters in my pocket. ‘Peggy – you all right to stay over tonight? If I send word to Danny? I’ve got to go out.’

‘Of course. It’ll be my pleasure.’ She turned and swayed back into my parlour room. Robbie watched me over her shoulder, his large brown eyes solemn as a priest’s at a death bed.

As she closed the door it came to me that her fancy might well have saved them both in that churchyard.

‘I will prepare a room, Lady.’ Tan Seng bowed and moved to the stairs.

‘Tan Seng, wait please.’ He paused and turned back at my call.

‘Along with Danny, can you take a message to Lucca, Mr Fratelli, and ask him to come here?’

He blinked, folded his hands into his sleeves and inclined his head.

‘After I go out tonight, lock the doors and shutter all the windows. No one – no one at all – is to leave or to be admitted until I return.’

‘Lady.’ Tan Seng bowed once more and headed to the stairs.