The Gilded Lily (42 page)

‘Turner. Have the carriage brought round,’ shouted Wycliffe.

‘Yes, sir.’ The servant melted back downstairs.

‘Here,’ said Jay, thrusting Ella her cloak, ‘get in the carriage.’ She put it on, her eyes downcast, and went outside onto the street. The carriage rolled up in front of
her and she climbed awkwardly in.

A few moments later Jay joined her. She could not see his face in the darkness and he did not speak. She moved away from him in the carriage until her shoulder was jammed hard against the door.
Only when they arrived back at the chambers did he say, ‘It is a shame you were unable to impress my thespian friends. Mr Wycliffe is generous to those he favours. If you do not please Allsop
and my friend Wycliffe is disappointed again, then I am sure I can persuade the wigmaker to take you back on.’

The sun crept in with a watery glow through the window, and Sadie threw back the sacking to let in more of its light. The river was empty of boats this morning, of skiffs and
wherries and barges, and there were none of the usual hoots and bells and whistles. It was icy too, the sky a sudden unexpected blue. Yesterday, when the scavengers walked along the shore she could
hear the crunch of ice breaking under their feet. The sounds were clear and sharp. She heard the cries of the milkmaid and the aleman too and licked her dry lips. She had taken nothing to drink
since Ella left. There was no ale and even the pail was dry; she had looked at it countless times.

She had eaten well, the bacon and bread had been tasty, but had only added to her thirst. She went over to the door and pushed against it, in case by some miracle it might open. Of course it
didn’t. Ella had locked it as she said she would. Sadie began to get concerned. She roamed the room, unable to settle back to her knitting.

By afternoon there was still no sign of Ella. What on earth would she do if Ella did not come back? She had not even heard any noises from below, and she missed the constant barking of Ma
Gowper’s cough. What if Ella had been discovered somehow and caught, and was in prison unable to get a message to her? In her mind Sadie pictured the bouncing girl with the brown hair, rosy
face and a cheeky grin. The sister she knew from Westmorland. Sadie shook her head, as if to rattle that picture free. She replaced it with the picture of the white-faced Ella in the blue gown.

‘Oh, Ell,’ she whispered, ‘where are you?’

Ella had overslept. Usually the light woke her, and the distant crowing of cockerels. Then she would stretch her bare toes in the soft warmth of the blanket and have a few
moments wallowing in bed before getting up to begin her vigil at the mirror.

Today, however, she was woken by a sharp hammering on the door.

‘What is it,’ she croaked, half asleep. Her voice didn’t seem to be working properly.

‘I’m off now,’ shouted Polly.

Ella did not reply, just turned over in bed, hugging a bolster closer to her chest.

Polly shouted again. ‘Corey, Jay Whitgift wants to see me in his chambers. I’ve turned the notice on the door, so you’ve got a few minutes before he does his rounds.’

Ella was confused. She jumped up and ran to the window in her shift. The sundial on the wall showed after noon! She looked at it again. That couldn’t be right. Downstairs the frosty yard
was full of carriages.

‘Christ almighty,’ she said.

She ran over to the mirror. The picture was all too clear. She looked dishevelled, like a harlot. After the disastrous evening at Sedley’s she had fallen into bed at four in the morning
without bothering to wash her face or tidy her hair. Now her hair was like a stook of straw, her face smeared with black soot where it had run from around her eyes. Her head throbbed as if a
hedge-layer wielded a mallet inside it.

‘Meg,’ she cried, throwing on her petticoats. Where on earth was she? She rang the bell.

‘Yes, mam?’ Meg’s face appeared round the door, a shawl tied round her head and shoulders.

‘You stupid girl. Why weren’t you here earlier?’

‘You didn’t ring, mam.’ She was staring at Ella’s face with curiosity.

Ella lashed out, slapping Meg a stinging blow on the arm. ‘That’s for your cheek. You know I always need you to lace me up at nine o’clock.’

Meg gulped as if she might burst into tears.

‘Don’t just stand there, get on with it. No – not the red, the blue. The blue! Over there, you maggot brain! And hurry.’

Ella fidgeted as Meg struggled to lace her into her dress, and when Meg took a comb to her hair screamed at her when it snagged. When she next looked round, Meg had slunk away.
‘You’ll be out, my girl,’ she muttered fiercely under her breath.

Ella leaned towards the mirror, hastily slapping on another layer of ceruse. She had a pimple coming on her chin, so she covered it with a heart-shaped patch. Her hands shook. Her eyes were
bloodshot and still half closed. She dropped some of the stinging nightshade into each eye and was rewarded by her pupils becoming enormous. It made the room slightly blurred, softer round the
edges. She finished her toilet hurriedly, scrubbing salt over her teeth to take away the rancid taste in her mouth. In case the smell of liquor lingered, she dribbled cologne over her chest.

By this time the shadow on the dial had crept to half after twelve. ‘Oh God – Sadie,’ she said under her breath. There wasn’t time to go to Blackraven Alley now.
She’d have to go at night, after work. She glanced out of the window to see Jay walking across the yard as he usually did, making his lunchtime rounds. The sight of him made her shrivel
inside with shame. To think, she had set her cap at him, when the signs were written all over him, plain as plain, that it wasn’t the girls he was after. The vision of being Ella Whitgift
crumbled into dust.

She shot downstairs, turned the notice on the door to ‘Open’ and took up her place behind the counter. She mustn’t lose her position. It came to her in a flash that her charm
would be no use in a tight corner – not with Jay Whitgift. Why had she overslept? Stupid Meg should have woken her.

It was a bad start to the day, like waking to find the fire had gone out. The fear of losing her position made her light-headed. Her thoughts slid back to Sadie waiting for her at Blackraven
Alley. Surely a few more hours wouldn’t matter. After all, she had plenty to keep her occupied. With any luck, by the time Ella arrived, she might have finished the second pair of stockings.
But even this thought discomfited her.

She felt bad about her arguments with Sadie, it rankled like a broken bodice-bone. She had thought her younger sister’s opinion of her to be of little account, but now she was surprised to
find that it mattered. It was not something she was used to, Sadie calling her names. She pictured the small damp room above the Thames and Sadie’s expectant face. Unaccountably, it made her
feel angry. It’s not my fault, she thought; she’ll have to wait.

She uncorked a jar and applied a little more madder to her lips, brushed down her skirts and waited behind the counter, pretending to arrange a display of pots of marigold cream. Jay’s
silhouette approached behind the single pane of glass in the door. She felt slightly sick, and swallowed; the taste of wine still lingered on her palate.

The door opened and he strode towards her. He carried a rolled-up paper in his hand, probably a stock list or a roster of orders. She forced a smile to her lips, pushed away the image of his
hand tracing the shape of Wycliffe’s buttocks. She hoped he would not notice her hastily applied face. Jay stopped directly before her and glowered under his thin eyebrows. It crossed her
mind that perhaps he also was feeling under the weather after the evening at Wycliffe’s. But something in his demeanour made the back of her neck prickle.

Wordlessly he unrolled the paper and spread it out on the table to face her. She took a sharp breath. He smoothed the paper flat and picked up four pots of salve to hold it open and weight it
down, standing them with mathematical precision on the corners. Ella could not read the paper, but it didn’t matter. She had recognized it as soon as he unrolled it. It was one of the
‘reward’ notices. She stared at it, her mouth dry. She could not speak so she just waited.

‘Tell me why I should not claim this reward,’ he said.

She decided to try to bluff it out. ‘Beg pardon, sir, I can’t read.’

Jay laughed, but it was a laugh without merriment. ‘You know well enough what it is. Someone at the Corn Exchange was telling me that there was a reward out for two maids. As soon as he
said one of them had a piebald face, I thought to myself, now then, I’ve seen someone with a face like that, now where was it?’

Ella was watching him warily. He did not seem angry, just puffed up and full of himself.

‘Of course!’ he said, hitting his forehead in mock frustration, ‘it was at the perruquier’s. Your sister. I was about to dismiss it as a coincidence, but then I got to
thinking – how Madame Lefevre was so keen to find you. And you spun me that yarn about pinching from the till. I thought it mighty odd then that you wanted your whereabouts kept
secret.’ He leaned towards her, resting his forearm on the table. ‘No wonder – you’re wanted for murder.’

She clutched at the front of her bodice. The game was up. There was no point in denying it.

‘I didn’t do it, sir.’

‘It matters not an ounce to me whether you did or no. But you have to understand, it’s a risk to me you working here. Either they’ll think I’m stupid, or they’ll
think I’m protecting you. Neither is an option. So I’ll have to hand you over, you know that.’

‘Please, sir, don’t do that. They’ll hang us.’

Jay moved away, tapping his hat against his thigh, as if weighing it up.

He’s enjoying this, she thought, with a sudden realization.

‘You thought to take me for a simpleton, Miss Appleby. That was foolish. Now tell me, where is your sister?’

Ella shrivelled inside. ‘Don’t know, sir.’

‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’

Ella thought quickly. ‘When I moved in here she couldn’t pay the rent. She was angry with me and moved out of our lodgings.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘I’ve told you. I don’t know.’

Ella glanced at the door. Even if she got past Jay, there was not a cat’s chance of escaping through the throng of carriages. Jay saw her look.

‘Oh, my man Lutch has instructions not to let you leave the premises.’

She looked again and saw the dark silhouette of a man just outside the door.

‘Wycliffe was very keen for you to provide a suitable – how shall I say –
divertissement
for Allsop, and I see no reason for that to change.’ Jay laughed at some
joke of his own. ‘A day here or there will not matter. Ibbetson will wait.’ He turned back to face her, smiling his wolfish smile. ‘Perhaps I may reconsider if you please my
friends. But if you wish to be of value you must look attractive,’ he went on. ‘There is white powder sprinkled on your bodice, and your lips need repainting.’ He looked at her
with distaste as though she were a dog with fleas. The door tinkled and Polly hurried brightly in. She stopped short of the counter, evidently taking in the odd atmosphere in the room.

‘As we discussed, Miss Johnson is not to go out of the Lily without my say-so. She will stay indoors and you will not mention her name to anyone. Do you understand? Get your warm cloak and
bonnet on, Miss Bennett. You will be on duty at the Frost Fair to assist Mrs Horsefeather. The boy will come for you in the gig at the quarter bell.’

‘Yes, Mr Whitgift.’ Polly simpered and tossed her brown curls at him, before giving Ella a triumphant look.

Jay went to the door. ‘Chaperone Miss Johnson until I get back,’ he said shortly. ‘Don’t let her go anywhere on her own.’ He disappeared into the yard.

‘What’s going on?’ said Polly.

Ella shook her head. ‘Mind your own. I just need a few minutes to fix my face. You can give me a few minutes for that, can’t you?’

‘He said I’ve not to let you out of my sight, or I lose my place.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake. Come to the top of the stairs with me then.’

Polly looked doubtful, but she followed Ella. Ella walked up the stairs like a doll, as if her legs were not her own. Her mind was racing. She just needed some time to think. At the door to the
room Ella said, ‘Look. I just want a few minutes alone to fix my face, all right?’

‘What’s up?’ Polly said, trying again.

‘Nothing.’

‘I’ll be listening at the door. If I hear anything funny, I’ll bring Mr Whitgift.’

‘Do I look like I’m going to turn bedlam? I’ve told you, I’m only going to fix my face.’

She closed the door on Polly’s curiosity. She had to try to think, make a plan. She looked directly below and saw the bulky head and shoulders of a man standing just outside the door. She
hurried to the windows, ran her fingers over them, but they were sealed with layers of caulk and had no handles. Damn, they didn’t open. And they faced the yard, where everybody came and
went. So there was no way out from up there. She knew there was a tiny window in the back downstairs, but it wasn’t even big enough for a cat. The rest of the windows faced the front where
Jay’s man was on guard.