The Promise (2 page)

“My name is…” She hesitated. “My name is Daphne. Daphne Livingston.”

“And mine, in case you didn’t catch it, is Jane Gray.” She knew Daphne had given her a false name and thought the girl must be in a great deal of trouble to hide her identity. Jane was sympathetic; she had been running from her own past for so long she barely remembered where she came from. Under the circumstances, she could hardly push for confidences.

“Now that we’ve been introduced, we’re no longer strangers,” said Daphne. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Two

Five Years Later... London, 1860

Jane took a shortcut down Tavistock Street, a narrow, gloomy thoroughfare between the bustling Strand and the equally busy market in Covent Garden. The musty smell of old wood and crumbling bricks hung in the stagnant air. Through paper-thin walls she could hear families inside ramshackle tenements laughing and fighting while going about the mundane tasks required of living.

It seemed a million miles away from the glittering West End where Jane would spend the morning visiting goldsmiths, finding one willing to pay handsomely for the locket. She had not taken the decision to sell it lightly; the money it raised would go to a worthy cause. It belonged to her daughter Pip, the one who would benefit from its sale. The only thing Jane would receive was peace of mind.

A cholera outbreak in Soho had killed thousands the month before, including a close friend of Jane’s who had several young children. Luckily they had a father and grandparents to care for them, but that was not the case with Pip. The child would be left an orphan if an unexpected illness befell Jane.

An investigation revealed that effluence from overrunning cesspools had been pumped back into the city, contaminating drinking supplies. Engineers had traced the source to the Southwark and Vauxhall Waterworks. It was a tragedy repeated all too often in the poor, overcrowded boroughs of London and the reason Jane always boiled their drinking water.

The incident had nagged at her, forcing her to confront the many ways she could be taken from her daughter. A carriage might run her down or she could catch one of the fevers that swept through the city every winter. A rickety building could collapse on her head or she could fall prey to a random act of violence.

The streets of London were cruel. Untold horrors awaited an unprotected child, especially a girl. Jane could not bear to think of Pip among them.

Her employer Mrs. East was not unkind, but Jane doubted her husband would agree to take in an orphan when they already had so many mouths to feed. Pip would end up in an orphanage, a workhouse, or worse. After a month of torturing herself, Jane visited a solicitor to learn about trusts and conservatorships. She was informed it would take a great deal more than she had saved to seed a fund large enough to raise a child. A solicitor suggested the figure of five hundred pounds and Jane thought of the necklace immediately. It was the only way she could ever raise that much capital.

And so she had requested a rare morning off. Mrs. East grudgingly agreed on the condition that Jane complete the morning chores early. As a result, she had gotten little sleep, rising well before dawn to stock the shelves with freshly baked scones, a variety of sweet treats, and loaves of bread, before going upstairs to wake Pip with a kiss and a cuddle.

“Time to get up sleepy girl,” Jane gently rubbed the child’s back to ease her into the day. “I picked out your favorite pink romper. You’re always as pretty as a picture in that one.”

“It’s too early, Mama,” Pip whined, pulling the blanket over her head.

Jane laughed. “I agree darling, but you must get up anyway. Mrs. East won’t be able to bathe and dress you while watching the shop alone.”

Pip jumped out of bed and stretched. Jane lifted off her tiny nightgown and scrubbed the child’s face and hands with a wet cloth. After dressing Pip, she plaited her long blond hair and tied the ends with pink ribbon.

Jane pulled the door closed and made her way down the narrow stairway in front of Pip. At the bottom they entered the spacious kitchen of Sugarmann’s Bakery. She had always considered herself fortunate that the apartment above the shop was considered part of her wages. Her workday began well before dawn, so she was grateful not to have to catch an omnibus across town in the early morning hours or travel home again at dusk.

“Good morning!” Mrs. East called from the front of the shop.

“Good morning!” Pip returned with a smile, rushing toward the display case.

“Oh no you don’t! Not until you’ve eaten a proper breakfast. I made your favorite, poached eggs and ham.”

Jane lifted the pouting child onto a stool and spread a checkered napkin on her lap. “You can pick out a treat… just one, mind…
after
you’ve eaten. Have fun and be good for Mrs. East. Promise?”

Pip nodded and hugged Jane around the waist, almost tumbling off the stool.

“Whoa!” Jane righted her with a chuckle. “I love you, Poppet!”

“I love you too, Mama!” They rubbed noses. It was the way they always said goodbye.

Jane smoothed Pip’s hair back off her forehead and winked at Mrs. East. “Don’t spoil her.”

“Too late for that. You already beat me to it.”

THE WEATHER WAS UNCERTAIN. It had rained most of the night and Jane feared she might have to postpone her errand, but the sun peeked through the clouds just after dawn and an hour later it had transformed into a perfect spring day.

A scarf covered the gold chain that hung around her neck. The locket dangling from it was tucked into her bodice. She felt nervous wearing it in public, but it felt safer around her neck than in the loose apron of her pinafore. Either way, the odds of a pickpocket targeting her were slim. She looked very shabby indeed next to the lords and ladies who shopped for luxuries in Bond Street’s extravagant boutiques.

Her first stop was R&S Garrard on Panton Street off Haymarket. After getting their best offer, she planned to show the piece to Hancock’s on the corner of Bruton & Bond, and then she would approach Harvey & Gore in the Strand. Each of the jewelers purchased estate pieces and was known for being discreet.

Jane hesitated in front of the shop. Through the window she could see row upon row of glass display cases filled with watches and dazzling jewelry. Before she set her hand on the door she steeled herself for a haughty greeting, perhaps even a quick rebuff. She took a deep breath and gathered the courage to push inward. Just as her fingers reached the handle, a man in a dark blue uniform pulled it open. He was massive and Jane suspected he was more than just a doorman. Any place with so many jewels would need an imposing guard; he was tall and broad enough to fit the bill. She saw the outline of a pistol beneath his waistcoat and wondered if he’d ever had cause to use it.

He took her measure while she took his. She thought he winked, but it happened so fast it might have been her imagination.

Jane had never entered such a fashionable shop. The ornate wrought iron grillwork and carved marble ornaments that graced the building’s façade were impressive, but nothing compared to the lavish opulence within. Emerald necklaces, sapphire broaches, diamond tiaras, ruby bracelets. She wondered if there was a single thing in the inventory that she could purchase with a full year’s wages. She suspected not.

A wealthy dame in an enormous feathered hat looked up from a tray of rings then frowned and wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something foul. Jane knew it had nothing to do with her hygiene and everything to do with the fact that the matron had assessed her worth and found it wanting. A working class woman in homespun was a malapropism in this glittering bastion of excess, her intrusion an affront. The matron’s haughty expression looked so much like a caricature straight out of a
Punch
cartoon that Jane had to look away to hide her amusement.

She glanced over at the guard and caught a corresponding twinkle in his eye. That wink again. Did it signal interest or
esprit de corps
? She blushed. He probably spent all day every day being condescended to by such people, or treated as if he were invisible. Jane had grown accustomed to it long ago; it no longer bothered her. Not that much, anyway.

As she waited for a clerk to acknowledge her, Jane studied a display of fanciful jeweled hatpins in the shape of hummingbirds, parrots, and owls, each colorful bird encrusted with tiny pavé-set stones. A sigh of longing escaped her lips over an enameled orchid pin with diamond-tipped stamens. She felt wistful, not so much for herself, but for Pip. If not for the tragic circumstances of her birth, she would have been raised in a world where such things were given as little tokens of affection. Her daughter deserved a better life than Jane could provide. She sighed and reminded herself it was pointless to lament what couldn’t be changed.

SAMUEL SPILSBURY’S LIPS thinned when he saw Jane approach. He was in the back of the shop speaking with a stonecutter, but from where he stood he had an unobstructed view of the front door and showroom. There were only four reasons why someone who was dressed so humbly would enter his store and none of them involved purchasing jewelry.

First and most likely, she had a family heirloom to sell. Since she was obviously too poor to have anything of real value, looking at and rejecting her “treasure” would be a waste of his time. Down-and-outs looking to raise funds by selling their last earthly possession came in several times a week. No matter how many times he had to do it, it always made Samuel feel wretched to see the hope fade from their eyes when he told them their items were worthless.

Second, she could be trying to sell pilfered goods. Seasoned thieves knew better than to fence items at reputable jewelry stores and used an underground network to dispose of ill gotten gains instead. Professionals were aware the police department delivered new lists of stolen jewelry every week. If anyone tried to sell items on that list, his massive security guard Hans held them by the collar until authorities arrived.

Third, she could be so desperate and delusional that she hoped to slip something into her pocket when no one was looking. Hans had not allowed it to happen in thirteen years, and he was unlikely to do so today. Prevention was preferable to apprehension. Samuel had no stomach for pressing charges against a desperate woman who would hang for the offense.

Fourth, she could be a doxy hunting for a wealthy customer in the West End. If this were the case, Hans would throw her out before she batted her first eyelash. Although she was a pretty little thing, Samuel knew instinctively she didn’t belong in this category. She wasn’t dressed for the role and her countenance was too open.

Samuel’s experienced eye placed her in the first category.

“Paul, go see what the woman has to sell, then get rid of her,” Samuel ordered with a sniff as he straightened the cuffs of his Gieves & Hawkes bespoke suit. “And be quick about it.”

Paul scurried to meet Jane while his boss hovered within hearing distance.

“Good morning, Miss. May I help you?” he asked politely.

JANE STEPPED FORWARD. The clerk seemed friendly enough. He wasn’t scowling, nor had he ordered her from the premises before she had a chance to speak. Everything seemed promising so far.

“Yes, thank you,” she smiled warmly and reached out her hand. “Jane Gray.”

Paul shook it and returned her smile. “Mr. Monroe.”

Preliminaries exchanged, Jane addressed the purpose of her visit. “I was told your firm purchases estate jewelry. I have a gold chain and locket that I wish to sell.”

“We pay top dollar for finer pieces,” he launched into his standard pitch with a look of resigned patience. “If the metal is high quality, but the workmanship inferior, we may be able to offer you something for scrap.”

She sensed from his tone that he expected the latter.

“May I see the article in question?”

“Yes. I think you’ll agree it would be a crime to melt
this
down,” Jane smiled and pulled off her scarf then turned her back to lift the locket from her bodice. Without taking the long chain from around her neck, she handed it to the clerk. His eyes widened for a moment, then he squinted up at her sharply.

“Where did you get this?” His inflection held an implicit accusation. A bolt of alarm knifed through Jane. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the guard stiffen. Something had put him on alert.

“My daughter inherited it from a relative,” Jane explained.

“It is very distinctive, probably a custom piece made for a peer.” It was obvious he doubted the truth of her statement. Insolent eyes scanned her from the top of her unadorned straw bonnet to the laces of her well-worn shoes, searching for signs of quality and finding none.

“I thought it might be a coat of arms, but I’ve researched the image in heraldry books and it isn’t a registered family crest or an armorial symbol. Not one I could find at any rate.”

“It may combine symbols from two coats of arms, to mark the joining of two families. It is often done,” he remarked. He was gripping the locket so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. The taut chain chaffed her neck.

“I never considered that,” Jane gently tugged on the locket, but he held fast. She was glad the chain was too thick to snap easily.

“Let’s see what we have here,” he murmured, fumbling with the clasp until it sprang open. He arched a brow and looked up at her with a question in his eyes.

“I removed the portraits for my daughter. They were her great-grandparents.”

“Your grandparents then?”

“Not precisely.” Jane wondered if he was always so nosey. She tried again without success to pull it from his grasp. He was being rude and she was getting a little irritated. She decided to wrap things up and try her luck at Hancock’s.