The Return of the Gypsy (20 page)

“No,” she said. “If you would just help me along to Greville Street…”

“It is just along here, I believe.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Do you live in Greville Street?”

“In Grant Street. It is a turning off Greville.”

“I am only too pleased to take you along there.”

“You are so kind. My mother will be very grateful. I must tell her not to scold Sarah. It was not her fault. There were so many people, you see. It is rather bewildering to find oneself alone in the darkness … with noise all around one …”

“It must be. I am so glad you asked my help.”

“People are so kind to those who are afflicted.”

“Here is Greville Street.”

“Would you really not mind taking me along to Grant Street?”

“Certainly I’ll take you.”

“I trust I am not taking you out of your way.”

“That’s of no importance. Oh, here it is.”

“Would you mind taking me up to the door? It’s number nineteen.”

It was a biggish house of three storeys. There were balconies on the first floor and the windows were all discreetly curtained.

“I don’t know how to thank you. Would you mind ringing the doorbell?”

I did so and was about to step back when she said: “Do wait a moment.”

The door was opened by a big man who said: “Oh, there you are, Miss Mary. Miss Sarah’s been back a full fifteen minutes. Your ma was getting worried.”

“This kind lady brought me home.”

“Come in a minute, Miss, will you?”

“There is no need to,” I said. “Miss Mary is now safely home.”

He looked at me appealingly. “The missus will be mad with me if you’re not thanked properly,” he said.

“I have done nothing …”

Mary had taken my hand firmly and pulled me into the hall. The door shut behind us. It had a hollow sound and I noticed there was no furniture in the hall.

“Who is there?” called a voice.

“Come on,” said Mary. “That is my Mama. She’ll want to thank you.”

The big man threw open the door and Mary drew me into a room. It was very sparsely furnished. There was a table with two or three chairs and very little else. At the table sat a woman. I could not see her face very clearly because she had her back to the window but I was beginning to think there was something rather unusual about this household and I experienced the first twinges of apprehension.

On the table before the woman was a tea tray set with cups and saucers. She looked at me with curiosity as I came in.

“This is the lady who brought me home, Mama,” said Mary.

“Oh, how good of you. It is not the first time a kind lady has brought Mary home. Thank you. Thank you. You’ll have a cup of tea, won’t you?”

“I won’t stop now, thanks. I really should not have come in. It was nothing.”

“It was a great deal and you must drink a cup of tea with me or I shall be a little put out.”

“No thanks … please. I must get home.”

“Oh, you are a very fine young lady. That is obvious. And here are we… about to leave our home. Our furniture has gone … or most of it… just a few sticks left. And we shall be going soon. I understand, of course, we are not the kind of people your sort would mix with …”

The big man appeared carrying a pot of tea.

I said: “Oh no … of course not…”

“Then a little cup, eh. Ah, I knew you would … Jacob, take this to the young lady …”

I felt there was something strange about this … something not quite natural…

The cup was put into my hands and my impulse was to gulp down the tea and get out as quickly as I could.

Mary and her mother were watching me; and it struck me that Mary no longer had the look of a blind girl.

As I was about to put the cup to my lips there was a violent ringing of the doorbell. Both Mary and her mother were clearly startled. We all seemed to be listening intently. I heard voices. There was a shout and what sounded like a scuffle … The door was flung open and to my astonishment, there stood the man in the brown beaver hat.

I rose to my feet spilling the tea. I heard myself stammer: “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

He was looking straight at me.

“What are
you
doing here?” he demanded.

“Get out. Get out of my house … whoever you are,” shouted the woman. “What do you want here?”

“I want to know why you have brought this young lady here.”

“How dare you! How dare you!”

He was looking straight at me.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I had set down the cup on the floor. I went to the man. The woman came towards us … so did Mary. They caught at my arm, but he flung them off and pulled me into the hall where the big man was lying on the floor moaning softly.

“Let’s get out of this place,” said the man in the beaver hat.

At the door he turned and shouted: “You’ll be hearing more of this.”

We came into the street. My first feeling was relief to have left behind that room which I now knew to have been evil.

My limbs started to shake. I did not realize until this moment how frightened I had begun to be. There had been an unreality about the entire proceedings—the girl pretending to be blind, the emptiness of the house, the strange almost theatrical atmosphere. I could not imagine what it had meant.

I looked at the man beside me. It was the first time I had been so close to him. He was quite handsome; his features were set in a classic mould; his light brown eyes could be humorous; but at the moment they were full of concern. I had been interested in him from the moment I had seen him. Now I was decidedly anxious to hear more about him.

“That,” he said, “was a most unsavoury place for a young lady of good breeding to find herself in.”

“I don’t understand what it was all about. All I know is that I have to thank you for rescuing me.”

“I was going to ask forgiveness for a certain curiosity, but it really served a good purpose in this instance. Would you like to come somewhere where we could have some refreshment? You need something.”

“Oh no … no … I want to go home.”

“You feel unsafe. I understand that… after what happened. Then I will escort you to your home.”

“Thank you.”

“The streets of London are not safe for attractive young ladies to wander in.”

“I cannot understand what that was all about. The blind girl…”

“Who was no more blind than you or I.”

“Then why … ?”

“She was the decoy. They wanted to lure you to that house.”

“What for? Robbery?”

“I think … perhaps … for something even more serious. I was astonished when I saw you go in that house, Miss er …”

“Frenshaw.”

“That place, Miss Frenshaw, is what is called a house of ill fame. Forgive the term … a brothel.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes, indeed.”

“It was an empty house, I thought.”

“Nevertheless that was what it was. They lured you to it. It is not an unusual practice. They usually trap girls fresh from the country.”

“But…”

“They could not have known that you have an influential family. Forgive me … but I did see you when you were travelling in your family carriage. I was at the Green Man. I noticed you.” He gave me a warm smile. “I saw the deference which was given to your parents. These people usually go for friendless girls.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“They would have drugged you. When you awoke you might have found yourself on a ship going out of the country. These people are devilish … quite unscrupulous. They care for nothing but profit.”

“But this is terrible.”

“I see you are still shocked by the experience and find it difficult to believe me. But I assure you that something like this must have been planned. I thank God I was in Bond Street today. I saw you, recognized you and … forgive me … I did follow you. I think I must have been trying to find some pretext for speaking to you. I saw the girl approach you. I was suspicious because a moment or so before I had seen her darting through the crowds and as she could not so suddenly have lost her sight, I wondered what was afoot. I followed at some distance. I was turning the corner into Grant Street when I saw you enter that house. I was astounded. I sensed something sinister was going on. I am only sorry I hesitated so long. However, at length I decided to ring the bell and force my way in if necessary. You know the rest.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said faintly.

“It shall be my pleasure to restore you to your family. A charming family if I may say so. I did see you once in Albemarle Street. It was as though our paths were destined to cross. I was meant to save you from … whatever those people were planning for you.”

I shivered. “It was miraculous.”

“I think so, too.”

“I had no idea that things like that went on or that such places existed.”

“Of course you did not. I blame myself for hesitating those few minutes. I stood there asking myself what right I had to interfere. I could not understand why you should go into such a place. Then I threw discretion to the winds and rang the bell and demanded entrance. The man who answered it asked my business and I said I wanted to see the young lady who had just come in. He told me to get out. Then I heard voices coming from the room. He tried to detain me but I flung him aside for I was convinced then that you were being held against your will. I had heard that these people had strange ways of conducting their business. Well, that is the story. How glad I am that I happened to be on the spot.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It was very little really.”

“You did not know what you might have found in that place … how desperate they were. They are criminals. I think it was very brave of you to come after me.”

“Thank you.”

“My parents will want to thank
you.”

“I was rewarded enough when I was able to bring you to safety.” We had come to Albemarle Street and I insisted that he come in and meet my parents.

My father was not at home but my mother had returned. Her astonishment was great when she saw the stranger, and when she heard what had happened she was horrified.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Mr.—er—”

“Peter Lansdon. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“You must come in. You must have some wine. Oh, Jessica, how could you! I have told you repeatedly that you should not go out alone.”

“Oh, Mother, I am no longer a child.”

“But not able to take care of yourself it seems. As for you, sir, we owe you our deepest thanks for rescuing our daughter and bringing her home to us. No protestations please. It was a brave thing to do. What is the address of that place—Nineteen Grant Street. My husband will have this looked into without delay. It is one thing to run these houses for people to go to of their own free will but when they start taking innocent young girls off the street, that is going to be looked into. Do tell us how you knew my daughter was there.”

Peter Lansdon told her what he had told me.

“Insatiable curiosity, I have to admit. I saw you at the Green Man and remembered you. Then I happened to be in Bond Street this morning and recognized your daughter.”

“Thank God you were!”

“I thought there was something suspicious about the blind girl.”

“I was telling Mr. Lansdon how observant he is,” I said.

My mother nodded.

“So … I have to admit, I followed at a distance. I saw your daughter go into the house.”

“And you knew what sort of place it was?”

“I have heard mention of it. I believe at one of the clubs. I could not understand why your daughter should have been taken there by this girl… whose blindness seemed to have come on rather suddenly. Acting on impulse, I went in.”

“You must dine with us tonight,” said my mother. “That is if you are free.”

“I shall be delighted.”

He left us after half an hour.

“What a charming man!” said my mother.

When my father came in and heard what had happened he was first of all astounded and then so angry that I thought he was going to have an apoplectic fit.

He turned on me. “How could you have been so foolish! You don’t seem to have any notion of what can go on in a big city. The idea of going into a strange house …”

“The girl was blind … so I thought. She seemed so pathetic.”

“Pathetic indeed! And you were an idiot.”

I accepted his scorn meekly, feeling it was deserved and now that the ordeal was over I was beginning to feel rather excited. The tall man in the brown beaver hat had taken on a personality and it was a very interesting one. He was coming to dinner and I was sure that acquaintance with him could be stimulating.

My father said to my mother, “Keep the girl in. You never know what folly she’ll be capable of. And, remember, Jessica. You are not to go out alone in any circumstances. Have I made that clear?”

“You have.”

“Then give me your promise.”

I did.

My father went out soon after that. He was bent on making enquiries about number nineteen Grant Street.

To my mother I had to repeat over and over again what had happened: how the blind girl had approached me, what had been said in the house. She kept saying: “Thank God for that young man. I must say he was charming … so self effacing. He really seemed as though he did not think he had done anything very wonderful. To go into a house like that… Goodness knows what might have happened to him. And for the sake of a stranger too … someone to whom he had not even spoken. I think he is wonderfully brave and gallant too. I am so glad he is coming to dinner.”

My father came back some hours later. He had made enquiries about the house in Grant Street. It had been a brothel run by a woman calling herself Madame Delarge who was said to be French. There was no one there at the time. The place was about to be sold. Madame Delarge had what she called a reputable establishment in Piccadilly. She entertained gentleman callers it was true, but there was no enforcement of girls. Everyone came willingly. She had left the house in Grant Street and it had been vacated by her staff a week before. She could not imagine who the people were who had lured a young girl to the place. It was nothing whatever to do with her. She could only believe someone was playing some sort of joke.