The Ragged Heiress (40 page)

Jeremiah’s voice behind her made her turn with a start. ‘I was just sorting these papers, sir.’

‘You were daydreaming, you idle slut,’ Jeremiah roared above the noise from the warehouse floor. ‘I don’t pay you for sitting around and gazing into space. No doubt you were thinking of your lover, or maybe there are several young men sniffing round you like dogs on heat.’

Lucetta rose shakily to her feet. ‘There is no call to speak to me like that, Mr Froy. I am up to date with my work, and I came in on a bank holiday to help out in an emergency.’

‘Don’t answer back, girl.’ Jeremiah raised his hand as if to strike her, but he was seized from behind by Sam who appeared suddenly in the doorway.

‘Only a coward would strike a defenceless woman,’ he said angrily. ‘Come outside, Froy, and face me like a man.’

Jeremiah paled and backed further into Lucetta’s tiny office, almost knocking her over in the process.
‘Wh-what do you want, you madman? Why are you here? You’ve got your money or you wouldn’t have allowed my cargo to be unloaded.’

‘Yes, I’ve got the cash, but I haven’t got a vessel. A block of granite fell from a crane and caused serious damage. This is going to cost you dear, Froy. You are going to pay for repairs and compensate me for loss of business.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Jeremiah demanded, bristling. ‘If there’s been an accident it has nothing to do with me.’

‘You can’t lie your way out of this,’ Sam said through clenched teeth. ‘You bribed that crane operator to make it appear like an accident.’

‘That’s a lie. You can’t prove anything.’

‘Oh, can’t I? We’ll see about that. My men are holding the culprit and he’s confessed. Do you dare face him and hear what he has to say? Or shall I send for a constable and have you both arrested?’

‘You can’t come in here making wild accusations,’ Jeremiah blustered. ‘I’ll not give you a penny piece.’

The warehousemen had gathered behind Sam. They did not appear anxious to stand up for their employer. Lucetta could see that the argument might easily spiral into a fight and she laid her hand on Jeremiah’s arm. ‘Perhaps you had better go with Captain Cutler, sir. The man might be more willing to tell the truth in your presence.’

Jeremiah turned on her with a savage snarl. ‘Mind your own business. When I want the advice of a silly chit of a girl, I’ll ask for it.’

The words were barely out of his mouth when Sam grabbed him by the collar and frogmarched him out through the warehouse into the street. The warehousemen abandoned their work and followed them with Lucetta close behind.

‘Call a constable,’ Jeremiah shouted in a strangled voice as he was forced to cross the street to face a terrified crane driver who was being held by two burly seamen.

Sam glared at the man. ‘Repeat what you told me.’

Shaking his head, the man rolled his eyes. ‘It’s more than me life’s worth, guv.’ A sharp nudge in the ribs from one of the crewmen made him yelp with pain. ‘He give me a sov to drop the block and make it look like an accident. It was Mr Froy what made me do it.’

‘Liar,’ Jeremiah roared, striking the man a blow across his face that brought blood spurting from his lips. ‘Take that back.’

Lucetta glanced at the faces of the men who had surrounded them and she saw amusement wiped away by anger and resentment. They moved towards Jeremiah as one, and she could see the situation turning ugly. She slipped in between Sam and Jeremiah. ‘Please, gentlemen, don’t you think this matter would be best settled in private? I’m sure neither of you wants a street brawl.’

Sam fisted his hands, squaring up to Jeremiah. ‘I’m ready for a fight if he’s got the stomach for it.’

Jeremiah seized Lucetta, holding her in front of him like a shield. ‘The girl is right for once. We’ll settle this
in the pub over a jug of rum punch.’ He turned to the crowd. ‘There’s a drink in this for each of you if you get back to your work now.’

A murmur of approval rippled through the small crowd that had gathered and Lucetta felt the mood change in an instant. They drifted off, returning to the warehouses along the street and the ships moored alongside.

‘Let me go, guv,’ the crane driver whined. ‘I got a wife and seven nippers to feed.’

Sam nodded to his crewmen. ‘Let him go. I won’t press charges as Mr Froy is going to settle the matter.’

‘Ta, guv. You’re a toff.’ The man raced off, stumbling and sliding on the slippery ground in his eagerness to get away.

‘The villain should have been handed over to the police,’ Jeremiah muttered. ‘It’s all a pack of lies.’

‘We’ll continue this in the pub,’ Sam said grimly. ‘Go back on your word and you’ll be sorry, Froy.’

Lucetta glanced anxiously from one to the other. She was shivering violently and her teeth were chattering, but her concern for Sam overrode everything. ‘How bad is the damage, Captain? Will it take long to repair your ship?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s for the boat builders to decide, but it won’t be cheap.’

‘It’s none of your business, Guthrie,’ Jeremiah snapped. ‘Get back to your work or you’ll be looking for another position.’

‘I’d look for work elsewhere anyway, if I were you,’ Sam said, turning to Lucetta with a hint of the charming
smile she remembered so well. ‘The idiot doesn’t deserve loyalty from a person like you.’

Lucetta looked him in the eyes and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of recognition. She opened her mouth to reply but Sam had turned away as if he had already forgotten her presence.

‘Come along then, Froy,’ he said, slapping Jeremiah on the shoulder. ‘Let’s go to the Turk’s Head for that jug of rum punch and we’ll discuss money in a civilised way.’

Lucetta stood on the wharf, watching them as they strode off towards the pub. Standing amongst the tall cranes with the ships’ masts towering above her, she felt small and insignificant. She had once been Miss Lucetta Froy, heiress to a thriving business, and now she was a person of no importance.

‘Come back inside, miss.’

She turned to see Perks standing behind her, holding out her shawl. He wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘You’ll catch your death of cold out here, Miss Lucy. There’s a nice hot cup of tea waiting for you in the office, and some of Mrs P’s shortbread biscuits what was left over from our Christmas dinner.’

It took several cups of hot sweet tea to warm Lucetta, but the real chill was settled firmly around her heart. She knew now that Sam really had forgotten her. She went about her work that day like an automaton. She did not flinch when Jeremiah shouted at her, taking out his frustration on her instead of on Captain Cutler. It transpired that a witness had come forward, having overhead Jeremiah plotting with the crane driver, and
Jeremiah had been constrained to underwrite the repairs to the
Sea Eagle
. He was not a happy man. Lucetta would have loved to tell him that it was all his own doing and he had brought trouble on himself, but she kept her own counsel. She could not risk losing her job, and if she were to tell the truth her feeling for the business went deeper than that. The warehouse and its contents were her only link with her past. At any given moment of the day she expected to hear her father’s voice giving instructions to his men. He was still here in spirit; she could feel him all around her and she would not let him down.

At the end of the day, long after Jeremiah had gone home in a foul mood, Lucetta walked through the warehouse examining the newly unpacked cargo that Sam had brought back from Asia and the Far East. The scent of sandalwood and spices mingled with the smoky sweetness of joss sticks and vetiver. Bales of silk, brocade in jewel colours and cotton threaded with gold and silver were piled high against the walls. Uncle Bradley might be a parsimonious old skinflint but he had an eye for a bargain and the new stock was worth a small fortune if sold to the highest bidders. Lucetta could only hope that Jeremiah had inherited some of the family business acumen. Well placed, this consignment of exotic cloth, furniture and artefacts would bring in enough money to put Froy and Son back in profit.

She was cold and tired and her spirits had never been lower as she trudged homewards. Her bright hopes of a joyful reunion with Sam had burst like a
soap bubble soaring towards the sun, only now it was bitterly cold and snow was falling steadily and settling on the ground in a thick white blanket. As she neared the house in Samson’s Green she saw footprints and a trail of dark spots leading to her front door. She did not have to examine them too closely to realise that they were drops of fresh blood. She opened the door and stepped inside, hesitating as she found the room in darkness except for a pale glow from the dying embers of the fire. Slumped in a chair she could just make out the shape of a man. ‘Lennie, what’s wrong?’ she cried.

He did not answer, and as she lit the stub of a candle with shaking fingers, she gasped in horror. ‘Lennie, what happened to you?’

Guthrie’s eyes flickered and opened. He stared at her dully. ‘It’s me leg. Busted in the same place as before.’

Lucetta lit a candle. Guthrie’s leg was twisted at an alarming angle and blood was dripping in a steady stream onto the dirt floor. ‘How did this happen, Lennie? I told you not to go out in the snow. Did you have a fall?’

‘Yes,’ he muttered. ‘I fell.’

‘I’ll have to cut the trouser leg so that I can clean the wound and stop the bleeding.’ Without giving him time to answer, Lucetta plucked a small cardboard box from the mantelshelf. Opening it she took out a pair of scissors, a needle and a spool of thread. She knelt down in front of him, cutting through the thick material with difficulty. The stench of the blood was making her feel sick but she forced her chilled fingers to work as gently as she could. The smallest movement caused Guthrie great pain, and when she had finally laid the wound bare she had to stifle a cry of horror at the sight of protruding splinters of bone and torn flesh.

‘It’s bad, ain’t it?’ Guthrie whispered. ‘I’m a goner, Lucy. I’m bleeding to death.’

‘You must see a doctor, Lennie. We must get you to the hospital.’

He grasped her by the wrist, forcing her to look him in the eyes. ‘No. I can’t go there.’

She was startled by the urgency in his voice and the desperation in his eyes. ‘You must have proper medical attention. I won’t let anyone hurt you.’ She spoke softly as she would to a frightened child, but Guthrie shook his head vehemently.

‘No hospital. That’s the first place they’ll look.’

‘What have you done, Lennie? Who’s looking for you?’

‘They’ll hang me for sure if they catch me. I was just after the old geezer’s half-hunter and he started shouting and calling out for help. I never meant to hurt him, Lucy, all I wanted to do was make him shut up.’

Lucetta had been vainly attempting to staunch the flow of blood with her handkerchief, but this admission made her stop. She raised her eyes to his face and her blood spiked with an icy chill. ‘You didn’t …’

Guthrie closed his eyes and tears seeped from beneath his eyelids. ‘I think I killed him, but I never meant to. There was people shouting and I heard a police whistle. I ran and ran and I could hear them close behind. I heard dogs baying and I climbed onto a roof. It was slippery and I fell …’

‘Don’t talk any more,’ Lucetta said urgently. ‘I can’t stop the bleeding, Lennie. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Yes, you do. Remember what you done in Bali.’ He dashed his hand across his eyes, focusing them on her with difficulty. ‘Take me belt and tie it tight around the leg above me knee.’

With trembling fingers Lucetta unbuckled his belt.
She slipped it around his injured leg as he directed and fastened it as tightly as she could manage. The tourniquet worked after a fashion and the flow of blood lessened visibly, but she could see that he was very weak. She fetched water from the pump in the back yard and held a cup to his dry lips. ‘I have to get help, Lennie. You’ll die if you don’t see a doctor.’

A grim smile twisted his lips. ‘It’ll be the noose for me when the law catches up with me.’

She set the cup down on the table well within his reach. She would have to put her personal feelings aside and beg Giles for help, but to walk through the snow to Lonsdale Square would waste precious time and she had no money for the cab fare. There was only one person she could think of who might be persuaded to give her a small loan. ‘I’m going out,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can and you’re not to move.’

‘That’s a laugh. I couldn’t make a run for it if the house was on fire.’

‘You’ll be all right, Lennie. I’m going to fetch help and you need not worry about the police.’ She had not stopped to take off her bonnet when she entered the house and she snatched up her damp shawl. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

She barely noticed the bitter chill outside as she sped towards Union Stairs and the Turk’s Head, where she hoped and prayed she would find Sam. To her intense relief she saw him seated in the taproom surrounded by the warehousemen and dock workers who had taken Jeremiah up on his offer of a free drink. Sam looked up as she threaded her way towards him and
he raised his glass to her. ‘Well, if it isn’t little Miss Prim and Proper from Froy’s warehouse. Have you come to taste the landlord‘s excellent rum punch, my dear?’

Ignoring the leers and suggestive remarks of the men sitting closest to him, Lucetta met his amused gaze without flinching. ‘May I have a word with you in private, Captain Cutler?’

‘Hey, mate, you’re on to a good thing there.’ A bearded man nudged Sam in the ribs and winked at Lucetta.

‘It won’t take a moment,’ she insisted.

Sam eyed her curiously and his smile faded. ‘All right,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Come outside, young lady, and tell me what I can do for you.’

Howls of laughter greeted this remark and Lucetta felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. She was hemmed in by curious onlookers but they stepped aside at a word from Sam. The air in the taproom was thick with smoke and alcohol fumes combined with the odour of unwashed bodies and Lucetta took a deep breath as she emerged into the comparatively fresh air outside.