The Ragged Heiress (36 page)

‘Thank you, doctor. I’ll wait for him outside. I need some air; it’s so hot in here. The smell and the maggots …’ Lucetta turned and was about to walk away, but Dr Richards called her back.

‘Miss Guthrie, I’ve just remembered where I saw you last. It was the night that the two vessels collided on the river. I was on duty and you were one of the survivors of that dreadful accident. You looked like a mermaid with your fair hair fanned out on the pillow.’

Lucetta stared at him, hardly daring to hope that he knew her true identity. ‘Yes, I was a passenger on the
Caroline
, and I believe that I was admitted here until I was transferred to the fever hospital, but I don’t remember anything about it.’

‘I’ll never forget that night, but as I recall there was nothing on your person to identify you.’

It had been a slim hope, but even so Lucetta could barely conceal her disappointment. ‘No, I don’t suppose there was.’

‘I arranged your transfer,’ Dr Richards said, smiling for the first time. ‘I have a good friend who works at the London Fever Hospital, and through him I was able to follow your case. You might remember him, Dr Harcourt? Dark-haired fellow with a devilish sense of humour.’

‘I–I’m afraid I can’t place him,’ Lucetta lied desperately. ‘It was some time before my memory returned.’

‘You were quite a mystery then, as I think you are now, Miss Guthrie. If you’ll forgive my saying so, I don’t exactly see you as being related to a man like Guthrie.’

‘We are given our relations, Dr Richards,’ Lucetta said coldly. ‘We choose our friends.’ She met his startled gaze without flinching, but inwardly she was quaking.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dr Richard said stiffly. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’ He hurried back into the cubicle, instructing a nurse to fetch the next patient.

Lucetta sighed. She had not meant to speak so sharply and he did not deserve such a put-down, but she dared not admit the truth. If the doctor were to inform Giles of her present situation he would almost certainly come looking for her, and if Giles were to repeat his offer of marriage she was not sure that she would have the strength to refuse him a second time.

‘Lucy, I’m ready to go home.’

She turned to see Guthrie limping towards her with the aid of a pair of crutches. A young nurse was at his side and in her hands she held a paper package. She smiled as she passed it to Lucetta. ‘There are some dressings for Mr Guthrie. I’ve written the instructions down for you, miss. Dr Richards suggests that you bring your father back in a week’s time so that he can check his progress.’

Guthrie was not a good patient. He made such a fuss when the dressings were changed that Lucetta had to
cajole, persuade and eventually threaten him with the dire consequences if he refused to let her carry out the doctor’s instructions. Ignoring all her protests, he insisted on going out every morning in search of work on the docks or in one of the manufactories by the river, but the result was always the same. No one wanted to hire a lame man.

Lucetta had also been trying to find suitable employment. She advertised her services as a secretary by putting cards in shop windows, but so far without attracting any prospective employers. She had lost the reference she had written in Sir Hector’s name when she fled from Miss Matty’s house in Angel Lane, and without a change of clothing she knew that she looked almost as disreputable as Guthrie. No respectable businessman would want such a shabby person working for him. She had wandered the city streets close to Black Raven Court and the Tower, knocking on doors of businesses that she thought might be in need of a secretary, and had applied for more menial positions, but without success.

On this particular day she roamed further afield and found herself in Wapping High Street, close to her father’s furniture repository. It was achingly familiar territory, bringing back happy memories of childhood visits to her father’s business domain where she was received with kindness and affection from his employees. Jim Jenkins had had a soft spot for her and there was always a tin containing shortbread biscuits baked by his wife tucked away beneath Tommy Hall’s desk in the front office. Lucetta stopped on the
opposite side of the street, staring at the gilded lettering with her uncle’s name sprawled across the frontage of the building. She had received short shrift here on her last visit and a bitter taste in her mouth made her swallow convulsively. Anger roiled in her stomach at the thought of Uncle Bradley and her hateful cousin, Jeremiah, reaping the benefits of her father’s lifetime of hard work. Uncle Bradley had stolen her inheritance and he was responsible for her sorry plight. She was about to walk away, but her feet seemed to have other ideas and she found herself crossing the street to stand outside the main entrance. The doorbell clanged as she entered the office.

The clerk she remembered as Perks looked up from writing in a ledger and there was no hint of recognition in his rather startled gaze. ‘Er, can I help you, miss?’

She cleared her throat and curved her lips into a smile. ‘I would like to see Mr Froy.’

‘Which Mr Froy is that, miss?’

‘Mr Bradley Froy.’

Perks shook his head. ‘Mr Bradley is in the Far East, miss. Mr Jeremiah is in charge while his father is away.’

‘Then I would like to see him, please.’

‘He’s a busy man, but I’ll see if he is available. Who shall I say is asking for him?’

‘My name is Lucy Guthrie and I am looking for work.’

Perks seemed to shrink before her eyes as he drew his shoulders up to his ears, and his neck seemed to retract as if his head would disappear at any moment,
like a tortoise under attack. ‘I don’t think there are any – I mean – we don’t employ young ladies, miss.’

‘Nevertheless I would like to see Mr Jeremiah,’ Lucetta said boldly. She knew she was taking a chance but she doubted if Jeremiah would recognise her now, especially in her changed state. He was four years her senior and had been sent away to boarding school at a tender age. They had seen little of each other while they were growing up, but she remembered him as a fat, spotty and spiteful youth who had pulled her hair and smashed her favourite doll, denying all culpability when challenged by her father. It was more than three years since they had met at a family Christmas party when Jeremiah had barely noticed her, thinking himself above paying attention to a schoolgirl.

Perks slid off his stool. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything.’

‘Please tell your employer that I was personal secretary to a very important Member of Parliament,’ Lucetta said, hoping that Jeremiah’s innate snobbishness would come to the fore when he received this titbit of information. ‘I left with the highest of recommendations and it is only a family misfortune that has forced me to come in search of employment.’

Perks disappeared through a door at the back of the room which led directly into the warehouse. Lucetta hardly dared to breathe but she did not have to wait for long. He poked his head round the door. ‘Would you come this way, miss?’

She followed him into the warehouse and the smell of the tropics took her instantly back to the heady
days in Bali. She felt her throat constrict as she saw the carved teakwood furniture from Indonesia and the bolts of exotic silks from Asia. Umbrella stands spilled over with hand-painted paper parasols from China and the bare brick walls were adorned with tiger-skin rugs from India. Their glass eyes winked at her as she walked past them to meet Jeremiah, who appeared to be idling amongst a collection of smiling, fat-bellied pottery representations of Buddha.

Jeremiah had always been chubby but now his shape was so much like that of the statues surrounding him that she had to stifle a giggle. Somehow she managed to keep a straight face and she raised her chin, meeting his curious look with a slight inclination of her head.

‘This is the young person, sir,’ Perks said deferentially.

‘Yes, thank you, Perks. I can see that,’ Jeremiah said irritably. ‘Go back to the front office and get on with your work.’

Perks accepted this implied rebuke with sagging shoulders and shuffled away, leaving Lucetta to face her cousin. She would have known Jeremiah anywhere, but thankfully there was no reciprocal spark of recognition in his pale eyes which reminded her of river water on a dull day.

She waited for him to speak.

He looked her up and down from the green-tinged black bonnet, which she had bought for a penny in a dolly shop, to the tip of her dusty boots visible beneath the muddy hem of her once elegant skirt. ‘Perks tells me that you are looking for work. Tell me why I
should even speak to you, let alone employ a woman who looks as though she would be better suited to scrubbing floors.’

‘I will scrub floors if that is what you require of me,’ Lucetta replied evenly. ‘But it would be a waste of my talent as a letter writer and my experience gained whilst working for a well-respected Member of Parliament.’

Jeremiah curled his lip. ‘And who might he be when he’s at home?’

‘I cannot reveal my former employer’s identity. It is an official secret and my work was most confidential.’

‘Why should I believe you? And if it is true, then why are you here in Wapping instead of peddling your talents in Whitehall?’

Lucetta thought quickly. ‘I have an invalid father to keep and my family have fallen on hard times.’

‘What a sad story,’ Jeremiah said with a sarcastic snarl. ‘Stop wasting my time and go away. Get out before I call one of my porters to throw you out.’

Lucetta shook her head, refusing to move even though he had taken a threatening step towards her. ‘You would find my services indispensable, sir. I am familiar with this type of merchandise and I have some knowledge of import and export laws. I can write in a fair hand, and …’ she paused, trying to think of something that would appeal to Jeremiah’s ambitious nature, ‘and I very much doubt if any of the other merchants in Wapping can boast of employing a personal secretary.’

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face and his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. ‘You may have a point there, I suppose.’

Lucetta pushed home her advantage. ‘I know the names of the government ministers who deal with matters that concern you, Mr Froy. You might need their assistance at some time in the future.’

‘You could be useful at that, but I want to see your references. You can’t expect me to hire you without proof that what you have told me is true.’

‘I’m afraid they were lost in the fire that destroyed our home,’ Lucetta lied glibly. ‘But I can write to my former employer and request a copy, although he is away in his constituency at the moment and it might
take a little time to receive a reply. Might I suggest you start me on a trial basis? I can begin right away.’

‘I should consult my father, but he is out of the country. I suppose a week’s trial would be appropriate and I won’t hesitate to sack you if you don’t come up to expectations.’

Lucetta crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘I understand perfectly.’

‘And you can’t work for me looking like a scarecrow. It won’t do.’

‘As I mentioned, sir, everything was destroyed in the fire. I will not be able to purchase new clothes until I receive my wages.’

Jeremiah scowled at her and when she did not weaken beneath his fierce gaze he put his hand in his pocket and took out a silver crown. He tossed it to her with a careless flip of his fat fingers. ‘There, never let it be said that Jeremiah Froy is a mean man or a bad employer. Get yourself something decent to wear and I want you back here to begin work at seven o’clock tomorrow morning. Leave your address with Perks and if you renege on our agreement I will make you very sorry. Now go away, I’m busy.’

Lucetta walked home in a daze of mixed emotions. She was relieved to have found work but she could hardly believe that she had accepted a job from Jeremiah of all people. It might prove to be the most foolhardy thing she had ever done, and yet there was a small part of her that was comforted at the thought of being back in familiar surroundings. Even in the short space
of time she had spent in the warehouse she had felt closer to her father than she had since the night of the shipwreck.

She stopped outside a dilapidated dolly shop with second-hand clothes hanging from nails hammered into the door and window frames. A slatternly woman with yellow snuff stains on her top lip gave her an appraising glance. ‘Need some new duds, dearie? You won’t get better bargains in the whole of Wapping than you will here.’

Lucetta fingered a navy-blue serge skirt that looked as if it was about her size. ‘How much for this?’

The woman put her head on one side, eyeing Lucetta with beady-bright eyes and her thin lips moved as if she were mentally calculating how much her prospective customer could afford. ‘A shilling to you, ducks.’

‘That’s too dear.’ Lucetta examined the material closely. ‘There’s a moth hole and the seam is coming apart.’

‘Ninepence then.’

‘I’ve seen another one just the same in Petticoat Lane for sixpence,’ Lucetta said, shaking her head. She plucked a grey cotton blouse with white collar and cuffs from its hook. ‘A shilling for both items.’

The woman held out a grimy hand. ‘Let’s see the colour of your money then.’

Lucetta grasped the coin between her thumb and forefinger. She was loth to part with any of it, but she had no choice. ‘I’ll need four shillings change.’

‘Are you suggesting that I ain’t got that much?’ The
woman produced a handful of coins from her skirt pocket and counted them out one by one.

The shopkeeper obviously considered she had done a good deal and Lucetta walked away feeling that she had obtained a bargain. She spent another tenpence on bread, cheese, milk, tea, and as a special treat for Guthrie, who had a sweet tooth and loved his tea sweet and strong, she added a half-pound of sugar to her purchases.

When she arrived back in Black Raven Court she found him sprawled on his bed with his mouth open and loud snores shaking his whole body. A large black cockroach crawled across his forehead and Lucetta flicked it off with the tip of her finger.