The Ragged Heiress Page 11

  Focusing her thoughts on a positive outcome of their dealings with her aunt and uncle, Lucetta decided that she must be ready to leave as soon as they returned. What she needed desperately was a wash and some clean linen, but that was out of the question in this sordid bolt-hole where the rats only ventured out to steal leftover food before scurrying back to their nests behind the rotten skirting boards. She shuddered as a flea crawled out from beneath her sleeve and latched onto the skin of her wrist. She brushed it off with a cry of horror and began stripping off her clothes, shaking them and draping them over the stools until she stood naked and shivering in the middle of the floor. She crossed her arms over her breasts, shuddering at the sight of angry red lumps where the parasites had feasted on her blood during the night. She thought longingly of the days when Naomi had been at her beck and call, bringing scented water for washing and assisting her to dress in freshly laundered, sweet-smelling undergarments made out of the finest cambric and trimmed with lace. She had taken so much for granted then, but it had all changed in that split second when the two vessels collided on the river.

  If only she could turn back time and return to the life that had been stolen from her, she would tell her parents how much she loved them and how bitterly she regretted having been the cause of Papa’s apoplectic fit. The return of her memory had brought with it a crushing feeling of guilt. None of this would have happened had she not been so wilful and headstrong, and yet she did not regret a moment that she had spent in Sam’s company. At least he was safe in Bali, and she had Mama to thank for that, even though she had railed against her mother’s decision at the time. Had Sam been on board the Caroline he might have drowned, but when the news of the disaster reached across the oceans he might believe that she was dead and find someone else to love. They had only known each other for such a brief time, and yet she knew for certain that he was the one man in the world to whom she could give her heart and soul.

  Lucetta gulped back tears as she pulled the coarse calico shift over her head. Sam would scarcely recognise her now. If he returned to London and discovered that she had survived, would he love a girl whose bones stuck out like white marble beneath her skin? Would he be attracted to someone who undoubtedly smelled as bad as her captors and her stinking surroundings? She was not at all certain of the answer. Sam Cutler had fallen in love with a spoilt young girl who had been petted and cosseted and told that she was beautiful from the cradle onwards, and, until now, she had had no reason to doubt it.

  Lucetta slipped her arms into the yellowed-cotton blouse but her fingers were shaking so badly that she found it almost impossible to do up the buttons. With a great deal of effort she managed to finish dressing and her hand flew automatically to her hair. It hung around her shoulders in a mass of knots and tangles and she had neither a brush nor a comb. It was, she thought with a touch of her old humour, a good thing that Stranks and Guthrie did not possess a mirror. She dragged her hair back from her face and tied it with a strip of material torn from the hem of her shift and then she began a methodical search of the room, looking for something which might help her to escape.

  Perhaps there was a spare key hidden somewhere under a loose brick, or beneath the palliasses on the wooden cots? There was plenty of dust and dirt piled in the corners of the room which might have been used to conceal something as small as a key. She took a spoon from the table and began digging as if prospecting for gold, but she found nothing other than nests of woodlice and crawly things with dozens of legs. In desperation she tried to open the window, even though the bars on the outside were too closely set together to allow anything bigger than a cat to slide through them, but the window was nailed shut and the door remained firmly locked. There was no way out and she was both hungry and thirsty. She went back to the table, but if there had been anything left after last night’s meal, the rats and mice had devoured the last crumb. The jug was empty except for the flies forming a moving crust in the bottom as they feasted off the dregs of small beer. The stale smell made her retch and she pitched the jug at the wall. The violent action did nothing to assuage the pangs of hunger or thirst that tormented her, but it went some way to relieve her feelings.

  She perched on one of the stools, leaning her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her hands. She closed her eyes and imagined herself back on the veranda outside her room in the consulate. She could smell the scent of the champak blossoms and the fragrance of hot coffee and freshly baked bread. She could taste the sweet flesh of the finger-size bananas, mangosteens and rambutans. She could hear Sam telling her that he loved her and repeating his promise to ask her father for her hand in marriage. But it was all a dream, so far distant from the reality of this dreadful place that it seemed like another life.

  Lucetta jerked upright as something warm and furry ran across her feet. Opening her eyes she saw a black shape disappearing into a hole in the wall. With one sweep of her hand she cleared the table, sending greasy newspaper, spoons and mugs flying onto the floor. She climbed onto the table and sat with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She must keep her thoughts positive and not give way to fear. She began to recite poems that she had been forced to learn at Miss Milton’s Academy for Young Ladies. She had never been fond of poetry, but bringing some of them to mind prevented her from agonising about what might happen when her captors returned. She managed to recall a few lines of Keats’ La Belle Dame sans Merci, but having exhausted that particular work, she went on to Wordsworth and his daffodils. Finally, just as she was almost halfway through Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner, which she rather liked, she heard the sound of booted feet tramping down the stone steps, and the rattle of the key in the lock. She slid off the table to perch on the stool. She would not let them see that she had been close to despair. She eyed them coolly as they clattered into the room.

  ‘Well?’ she said, hoping that they did not notice the tremor in her voice. ‘Are you going to take me home now?’

  Stranks dragged off his cloth cap and hurled it at the wall. ‘We might as well toss you back in the river. Your stuck-up relations won’t have nothing to do with us. They don’t want you back.’

  Lucetta stared at him in disbelief. ‘That can’t be true.’

  ‘It ain’t exactly the case, Lucy,’ Guthrie said, scowling at Stranks. ‘They didn’t believe us, that’s more like it. They was convinced you’d drowned and we was telling lies.’

  ‘It don’t matter which,’ Stranks countered. ‘The result is the same. They ain’t paying up and now we’re stuck with her.’

  ‘Lennie’s right,’ Lucetta said, using his given name to emphasise the fact that he was on her side. ‘That lock of hair could have been anybody’s and they would have no reason to believe you. You must take me to them right away. It’s the only way they will know for certain that I am alive.’

  Stranks scratched his head. ‘I dunno. It’s too much of a risk.’

  Lucetta was quick to see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. ‘But wouldn’t it be worth it, if you get what you want?’

  ‘We ain’t got much money left, Norm,’ Guthrie said earnestly. ‘I say we take her there now and show them we mean business.’

  Stranks cocked his head on one side, staring hard at Lucetta as if calculating her value, pound for pound. ‘All right, we’ll do it,’ he said, pulling a clasp-knife from his pocket. ‘But if she tries to escape I’ll stick her with me chive, and put an end to her moaning for good.’

  Guthrie took Lucetta by the elbow. ‘She won’t do nothing stupid, will you, Lucy?’

  ‘No, you have my word I won’t try to escape. My aunt and uncle will reward you handsomely. I know they will.’

  The butler faced them with a stony stare. ‘As I told you before, my good man, Mr and Mrs Froy are not at home to the likes of you.’

  With his jaw out-thrust, Stranks took a step towards him. ‘You tell your master that I’ve brought proof and she’s standing here beside me on the p
avement. This here is Miss Lucetta Froy; you must know who she is unless you’re blind as well as stupid.’

  The butler flinched visibly, but held his ground. ‘Don’t take that tone with me, my man. As it happens I’m new here and I wouldn’t know what the young lady looked like.’

  ‘Please, you must tell my aunt and uncle that I am here,’ Lucetta cried, struggling to free herself from Guthrie’s firm hold. ‘If Uncle Bradley will just come to the door he will see for himself.’

  ‘You heard her,’ Stranks roared. ‘Fetch your master and be quick about it.’

  ‘Wait here.’

  The door closed in their faces and Stranks beat on it with his fists. ‘Open up, or I’ll break the door down.’

  ‘Hold on, mate,’ Guthrie said urgently. ‘They’ll have the cops on us if you keep that racket up.’

  ‘My uncle will come,’ Lucetta said confidently. ‘Just give him a moment. It’s a big house and the drawing room is upstairs.’

  ‘Oh, the drawing room,’ Stranks mocked. ‘Pardon me, your highness. I forgot I was dealing with the toffs.’

  Lucetta bit her lip. Her nerves were jangling like the pots and pans on a tinker’s cart, and her heart was beating so fast that she felt quite faint. She glanced upward at the drawing-room windows, and she thought she saw Aunt Eliza’s pale face peering from behind one of the velvet curtains, but whoever it was withdrew instantly.

  Stranks hammered on the doorknocker. ‘What’s keeping you? We ain’t got all day.’

  The door opened and Lucetta gasped with relief as Bradley Froy stepped past his butler and stood, stiff and unsmiling, on the top step. ‘If you don’t go away this instant I will send for the police.’

  Stranks seized Lucetta by the arm, dragging her from Guthrie’s less savage grasp and he thrust her forwards. ‘Here’s the proof you wanted. This here is your niece, Miss Lucetta Froy. Now let’s talk business.’

  ‘Uncle Bradley, please give them what they ask,’ Lucetta pleaded, her voice breaking on a sob. ‘Give them the money. I want to come home.’

  Bradley stared at her coldly, his face a mask of indifference. ‘This is not my niece. Lucetta lost her life when the Caroline sank on that terrible night. This is a cruel hoax. If you value your freedom, leave now.’

  ‘Uncle, it is me,’ Lucetta cried in desperation. ‘I know I look awful but I can’t have changed that much in less than a year.’

  ‘I’ve never seen this young person before,’ Bradley said, backing into the vestibule. ‘Go away or I’ll send for the police.’

  ‘No,’ Lucetta screamed. ‘It really is me, Uncle. I escaped drowning but I caught typhoid and was in the fever hospital. You can check with Sister Demarest, she will confirm my story.’

  ‘Give us the money, guv,’ Stranks said, changing his tone to a wheedling whine. ‘Half of what I asked for earlier, if you must. But take the little trull. She’s no use to us.’

  ‘This farce has gone far enough,’ Bradley said angrily. ‘Close the door, Jenkins, and send the boot boy for the police.’

  ‘No.’ Lucetta heard herself screaming the word as she tumbled headlong into a pit of darkness.

  She came to her senses in the increasingly familiar upside down world over Guthrie’s shoulder. ‘Put me down,’ she cried, pummelling his back with her fists. ‘Put me down.’

  Guthrie stopped and dumped her unceremoniously on the pavement outside the Angel public house. The smell of malt and hops and tobacco smoke drifted out through the open doorway. Stranks sniffed the air. ‘I need a drink.’

  ‘We can’t take her in there,’ Guthrie protested.

  ‘Let me go then. I’m no further use to you,’ Lucetta said hopefully.

  Stranks stared at her, frowning. ‘Shut your trap, girl. I need to think.’

  ‘Well getting drunk ain’t going to help,’ Guthrie said, jerking his head in the direction of the open pub door. ‘And we only got a few coppers left. We need it for vittles.’

  Stranks’ hand shot out to grab Guthrie by the throat. ‘Me mind’s clearer when I’ve got a few pints in me belly. You take the bitch back to our place and I’ll see you later, when I’ve worked out what to do with the little doxy.’

  ‘Perhaps if I went to see Uncle Bradley on my own,’ Lucetta suggested tentatively. ‘It’s no wonder he didn’t recognise me looking like this.’

  ‘You stupid little cow,’ Stranks snarled. ‘He knew you all right. The truth is that he don’t want you back because he’d rather have the money. I never saw that coming, but I should have known better.’

  Lucetta stared at him in disbelief. ‘No, he wouldn’t – I mean – he just wouldn’t do something like that. He’s my father’s brother.’

  ‘And he’s inherited the house, the business and the money. Why would he want a spoilt brat like you? Tell me that?’

  Lucetta’s bottom lip trembled and she bit it hard to prevent herself from crying.

  Guthrie patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘Maybe he really didn’t recognise you,’ he said gruffly. ‘Perhaps if we got you cleaned up a bit …’

  ‘You’re as daft as she is,’ Stranks said savagely. ‘Get rid of her. Take her to Seven Dials and see what you can get for her in one of the knocking-shops. Don’t take less than a tenner for her neither. It ain’t what I was hoping for but it’s better than nothing.’

  ‘Give over, Norm,’ Guthrie protested. ‘Lucy was brung up to be a lady. She’s worth more than that.’

  ‘Put her up for auction then,’ Stranks snapped. ‘Sell her to the highest bidder. I don’t care what you do with her but get as much for her as you can. If you don’t, I’ll wring her bleeding neck and throw her off London Bridge, so help me.’ Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled into the pub, leaving Guthrie and Lucetta standing on the pavement, staring after him.

  Chapter Eight

  Thinking fast, Lucetta turned to Guthrie. ‘Let me try to see my uncle again, please, Lennie. I’m sure he didn’t recognise me, but if I could just speak to him …’

  ‘It’s no use, girl. Norm’s right about that one. Your uncle don’t want to be bothered with you, all he wants is the money. He’s a black-hearted villain if ever there was one.’

  ‘He’s my uncle. I don’t understand how he can do this to me.’

  Guthrie raised his hand as if he were about to stroke her hair, but he let his arm fall to his side with a sympathetic grunt. ‘I dunno what to say.’

  His face crumpled as if he was going to cry and Lucetta found herself comforting him. She patted him on the shoulder, making an effort to sound unafraid although inwardly she was quaking. ‘So what are you going to do with me, Lennie?’

  ‘I – I dunno,’ Guthrie said, staring down at his misshapen leg. ‘I don’t want to sell you to one of them places, but Norm will have me guts for garters if I don’t bring back some reddy and I ain’t got nothing to trade but you, ducks. Ain’t you got no other relatives what would cough up money for you?’

  ‘Not in London. I have a maiden aunt living somewhere in Surrey, but my mother’s family disowned her when she married Pa. I never met any of them and I wouldn’t know where to find them.’

  ‘Ain’t there no one in London you could turn to?’

  ‘There’s Mary, the nurse who was kind to me when I was in the fever hospital, but I doubt if she has any money. Papa had plenty of business acquaintances. We could try some of them.’

  Guthrie seized her by the hand. ‘We will. That’s what we’ll do. If you could get one of them to speak up for you it would put the old bugger to shame. He’d have to take you in.’

  ‘And I would see that you get a reward,’ Lucetta said earnestly. ‘You need not share it with Stranks and you could start a new life somewhere a long way from London.’

  Guthrie grabbed her by the hand. ‘I don’t want to see you end up on the streets. It just wouldn’t be right. Who shall us try first?’

  Lucetta racked her brains as she tried to recall her parents’ friends and busines
s acquaintances. She had been a weekly boarder at Miss Milton’s Academy before they sailed for Indonesia, and she had not been considered old enough to attend the lavish dinner parties hosted by her parents. Occasionally, if the guests had been very well known to her father, she had been allowed to join them for dessert, but she had rarely been invited to accompany her parents when they received reciprocal invitations to dine at the wealthy merchants’ houses.

  ‘Think hard, ducks,’ Guthrie urged, staring nervously over her shoulder at the pub door. ‘We’d best start walking in case he’s watching out of the window.’

  Lucetta fell into step beside him as he limped along, leaning heavily on his cane. ‘You shouldn’t be walking so far on that bad leg, Lennie.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, ducks. You’re the one who’s in desperate need.’

  She came to a sudden halt, very nearly unbalancing Guthrie. ‘There is one person who might remember me.’

  ‘Speak up then. We’ll go and see this cove.’

  ‘Mr Wilkinson owns a saw mill and timber yard not far from here. I haven’t seen him since I was twelve or thirteen, but he might recognise me. He used to bring me chocolates when he and his wife came to dine at our house. I remember him because he was round, like a robin, and he had kind eyes. He laughed a lot and his chins used to wobble like blancmange above his starched collar. I know my papa liked him because they used to laugh and joke together, but Mrs Wilkinson looked as though she lived on lemon juice and vinegar. I don’t think my mama liked her at all.’

  ‘Where do we find this bloke? We ain’t got much time, girl.’

  The City Road Basin was crammed with vessels tied up alongside the many wharves. The air was thick with dust as the glistening nuggets of coal were unloaded from the holds of barges. Men with blackened hands and faces struggled to tote heavy sacks of fuel to the manufactories where gutta-percha and lead were being produced by the ton. Steam from the laundry billowed into a sky that was already filled with clouds of noxious gases and a steady drizzle of dust and soot rained down on their heads. Lucetta felt certain that this teeming industrial landscape must be the equivalent of hell on earth and she clutched Guthrie’s hand as they made their way over grimy cobblestones towards Wilkinson’s timber yard and mill. She covered her ears as the screaming saw sliced through baulks of timber throwing up showers of sawdust. Guthrie marched her to the office door and thrust it open with the toe of his boot. ‘It’s up to you now, Lucy. I’ll wait outside.’