The Gilded Lily (13 page)

‘Pardon, sir, but what time?’

‘Half after six. You can assist in laying out the chamber. I have persuaded one of my friends’ mothers, Lady Horsefeather, to supervise how it is arranged. She moves in court circles
– although it has to be said, very slowly.’ He let out a spluttering laugh at this joke of his own. ‘Afterwards, it will be up to you to maintain the standard she
requires.’

‘Very well, sir.’

Alone in the clothing bay, Ella hardly knew which way to turn first. She stared at the garments thrown together in great musty heaps, or hanging from bamboo poles strung from
wall to wall. So many skirts to choose from, so many petticoats trimmed with gold point. She touched them reverently with her fingertips, half afraid to pick them up. She marvelled that people with
gowns as costly as these could need to pawn them. But then, she guessed the wives had not much choice about it. Betsy from the wig shop had said that even the king used to pop a few things when he
needed money for the war against the Dutch.

Some of the garments were stained and had probably never seen a buck tub, and one or two had a whiff about them that made her gag. But others looked new, as if straight from a French seamstress.
There were a few sorters in the warehouse but no one paid her any mind, so she began to sift through the baskets and trunks of clothing, pulling out anything that looked likely. The air was damp
and the cloth chilly, but Ella did not notice the cold or damp. She was in an agony of indecision over which gown to choose.

He had said to choose damson, but there was a scarlet silk suit trimmed with little bows that she kept returning to; there did not seem to be anything in damson that would fit. Red was almost
damson anyway. To think, she might be wearing the gowns of duchesses or even the infamous Countess of Castlemaine, the king’s mistress!

She reluctantly put the red skirt down and toyed with a stiff blue brocaded bodice. It was much more suitable for the cold season. But her fingers had a mind of their own, and when she lifted
the scarlet silk skirt again, it swished gratifyingly over her bare ankles. The cloth was icy to the touch but then warmed quickly under her palms. She held the matching bodice up to her chest and
it was light as a breeze, and though she could see it would be a close fit, the laces at the back allowed enough room. She had never had a bodice that laced at the back, because she had never had a
servant to lace it for her. Perhaps Sadie might help her.

She felt a pang of guilt, picturing Sadie pulling the laces tight as if she were her lady’s maid. But holding this volume of red silk in her arms and feeling its slippery weight was a
sensation she did not want to forgo. This was the one. She would find a way to get it laced later. She picked out a green linsey riding cloak too, for otherwise how was she to keep the new gown
dry? She thought of their tiny room in the rookery of Bread Street and tried to picture herself arriving there clad in red silk with the riding cloak swirling behind her. She could not imagine it.
It was a leap too far. It was as if she had somehow stepped out of real life and into a fable. Reluctantly she decided she would have to leave the clothes at Whitgift’s and come and go in her
ordinary workaday garb.

She carried the cloak and gown to Dennis, the long-faced lad at the stable door. ‘S’truth, you did have call to see him, after all,’ he said. ‘I thought you was fashing
me.’

Ella looked at him haughtily. ‘Mr Whitgift says I am to have these.’

Dennis took out a ledger. ‘Just checking they’ve both a few more months to run.’ He kept her hovering there whilst he painstakingly ran his long finger down the list, licking
it to turn page after page, before he finally said, ‘Ah, yes. Here we are. Fair enough, I’ll put them to one side. Name?’

‘Er, Miss Johnson. Corey Johnson.’ Drat. She was stuck with that now. Dennis nodded. Ella watched him fold the garments and put them on a shelf behind. She could not help herself but
give him a wide smile.

He smiled back. ‘Address?’

She was momentarily nonplussed.

‘Where do you live?’ he said patiently.

‘End of Bread Street. But we’ll be moving soon, now I’ve got work. Somewhere better.’

‘You looking for a room round here?’

‘Why?’

‘My ma sometimes lets out rooms. She’s got one vacant now if you want to take a look. In Blackraven Alley.’

‘Oh no, I don’t think so. We’re seeing a few tonight already,’ she lied. Likely his lodgings would be some old fleapit.

‘Suit yerself,’ he said.

On the way home she spent a few precious pence on a bone comb and some hairpins so she could dress her hair. It felt good to go into the market and point at what she wanted and have it wrapped
in a sliver of paper. She walked jauntily down the street in little steps, the way she imagined a lady might walk, repressing the urge to gallop to the wig shop to tell the girls of her good
fortune. Of course she couldn’t go back there. A wave of guilt hit her when she thought of Sadie, still hunched over her bench in the stink of the wig shop. Well, she could hardly have taken
her with her, now, could she?

Ella tossed the little parcel in the air and caught it again, triumphant. Josiah Whitgift had singled her out. What a peach of a position – she would be paid handsomely to flatter fine
ladies and show them how to look becoming. The only way to have security in life was to be a mistress, not a maid. And surely now her life had turned the corner, she was on her way. She could not
wait to tell Sadie.

Sadie saw straight away that it was good news. When Ella came in, her face was rosy and dimpled with smiles and she hugged Sadie hard, almost squeezing the breath out of her,
something she had not done once since they came to London.

‘What do you think?’ Ella said. ‘I’m to be in a parlour tempting ladies to buy belladonna and ceruse, and lavender oil, and morning dew.’

‘A perfume seller?’

‘No, not just any old perfume seller. I’m to be dressed up like a lady – Mr Whitgift himself picked out a fine gown for me, yards and yards of red silk, enough for . . . oh,
six petticoats –’ she danced Sadie round the table – ‘and he said I’m as pretty as a poppy in a field. He wants me to dress my hair fancy, and—’

‘Stop, I’m getting dizzy.’ Sadie broke away from Ella’s embrace. ‘How much are you getting?’

‘Nineteen shilling a month.’

Sadie gasped. It was far more than she got at the wig shop.

‘I’m to start day after tomorrow. Won’t get my first pay till the end of the month though.’

‘Oh, Ell, what luck! We’ll have to scrape till payday though, we’ve barely enough to feed ourselves. But there’s still my portion from the wig shop coming in,
that’ll cover the rent.’

‘We’ll take on a better place as soon as I’ve got my feet under the table. I’ll make myself necessary. There’s an old Mr Whitgift too, the father. They don’t
get on. He’s a crabbit old skinflint by all accounts. But I’m after twisting the old gent around my finger. I’m good with old men.’

Sadie felt a qualm of misgiving. ‘You’ve hardly set foot in the place yet, don’t start getting grand ideas. And don’t go against Josiah Whitgift or you could end up back
in the gunpowder works.’

‘Oh, clap a stopper in it. I know what I’m doing. You always put a dampener on everything. Can’t you just be pleased for me?’

‘Course I’m pleased, I just worry in case it doesn’t work out. We still have to buy barley for bread, and we’re all but out of tallow for rushlights. I don’t want
you taking risks before you see a penny for your work. And I don’t trust that Josiah Whitgift. Corey and Betsy told me there’s shady things go on round his shop.’

‘Lord love us, I’ve only just got the bloody position and you’ve got me out on my ear already. At least I’m bringing in a decent wage, not like your petty mouse droppings
from the wig shop.’

‘Don’t. It was always good enough for you before. Anyways, I’m serious. Betsy says Whitgift’s has gone downhill. There’s rumours it’s turned into a meeting
house for all sorts – felons and highway thieves.’

‘It’s just a regular second-hand shop, with a pop shop on the side. But bigger, and grander. Lawks, Sadie, you should see it – great piles of pewter, cabinets full of gold
plate.’

‘Well, in that case, if we run short it will be a good place to pawn that gold and ruby seal.’

‘We won’t need to, now I’m working.’

Sadie changed the subject. ‘What’s he like, then, this Josiah Whitgift?’

‘He’s, well, he’s . . .’ Ella coloured. Sadie saw the flush rise into her cheeks, her eyes squirm away. ‘He’s just a man, what did you expect?’ snapped
Ella.

Sadie sighed. ‘Have a care, Ell. I expect he only took you on because you’re pretty. And good looks can be a blessing, but they can also be a curse.’

‘And I suppose you’d know?’

The barb had been aimed precisely, and hit its target. Sadie felt the cut of it and cast her eyes downwards, but she held her tongue. Ella was obviously not in any mood to be reasoned with.

Sadie walked away and took up a cloth bag of sewing things from the trunk. With her back to Ella she sat down and began to darn her old shawl. She liked the texture of the wool, the oil of the
sheep’s fleece under her fingers. She wove the wool over and under, thinking of the green fells of Westmorland dotted with sheep. When this cold snap was over it would be lambing time, and
the wethers would be growing fat.

A sharp knock at the door. Sadie gently put down her darning and backed away from the door towards the wall.

‘You expecting anyone?’ Ella said in a low voice.

Sadie shook her head emphatically.

‘Who’s there?’ called Ella, her ear close to the door.

‘Missus Tardy from over the way. Thought I’d best let you know, a gent was a-hanging round your front door today. He asked after you. Asked after a bonny girl, and a lass with a
patch on her face.’

‘Who?’ Ella shouted.

‘Open up and I’ll tell you.’

Ella slid back the bolts and opened the door a crack. Mrs Tardy wedged her way in. She was a broad-beamed woman with a bare-bottomed toddler slung on her hip. Ella looked out through the door,
then bolted her in.

‘Tried to prise the door open. At least, he was till I came along, then he looked right guilty,’ said Mrs Tardy, staring shamelessly round the room.

‘What did he look like?’ Sadie came out from the darkness.

Mrs Tardy walked round the room, taking everything in. Sadie saw her pause and look with interest at the trunk by the window, before turning back to answer. ‘Bit of a paunch.
Solid-looking.’

‘What else?’

‘I don’t know – I only spoke with him a moment and our Jack was crying. ’Bout forty I should think, dark eyebrows. Shiny riding boots. Kept asking after you, asked if
you’d been here long, who the landlord was, whether you paid cash.’

The two girls looked at each other.

‘When was this?’ Ella asked.

‘’Bout an hour ago, I’d say.’

Ella thanked her and pointedly shut the lid of the trunk. There were some silver-backed hairbrushes, the mother-of-pearl fan and a polished mahogany card box visible. Ella thanked her again and
took hold of Mrs Tardy’s elbow to steer her back to the front door. Mrs Tardy sniffed, she was clearly reluctant to leave, but Ella hustled her out, slamming the bolt after her.

Sadie fixed her eyes on the bolted door. It might be Da, she thought. He’s missed me after all. Maybe it’s my da come to fetch me home. And she was in one breath both overjoyed at
the thought of going home to the wide open air of Westmorland, and terrified of her father’s belt. She licked her lips, her mouth was dry. She slid her palm over the small of her back where
the bruises used to be.

‘D’you think it’s Da?’ she asked.

Ella took hold of her and shook her, reading her face. ‘Listen here. It’s not Da. More likely the law.’

‘It could be. He could have come looking for us.’

‘Don’t hoodwink yourself. He never gave a cat’s whisker for either of us, unless we could get him the price of a draught.’

Sadie put her knuckles to her mouth, blinked back tears.

‘Don’t greet. You know it’s true. He’d shop us if he thought he could get summat out of it. Don’t be fooling yerself he’s any love left in him. If he ever
came near us it would be that he’s after.’ Ella pointed at the trunk. ‘He could buy a few jugs with that.’

Sadie looked over at the trunk. The pigskin was worn, but it was still a substantial thing. In the old year it had been full to bursting, but they had spent so much, sold everything for the next
three months’ rent, and there was not so much left inside it now, just a few bits and bobs Ella said she was keeping back for a rainy day. The expression had made Sadie laugh, seeing as in
London it seemed to never stop raining. Now Ella hurried over to the trunk and threw back the lid.

‘Get your things together. We’re moving on.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve decided. We’re leaving.’

‘Just like that? You can’t—’

‘We’ve got to leave. Missus Tardy’s got a mouth on her like an ox. She won’t stop bellowing when she’s had a few.’