The Ragged Heiress Read online

  But it was not that easy. Lucetta was guarded more closely than the crown jewels. She was kept busy from early morning until late at night and she was never allowed out of the building even on the simplest errand. It seemed that the Potts had lost too many girls that way, Poppy being the last one to defect and take her chances in the outside world. Lucetta grew adept at avoiding Bob’s clumsy advances, and Peg was constantly alert, watching her husband’s every move.

  As the days turned into weeks and autumn was overtaken by winter, Lucetta became more and more frustrated. She had written to Mary, and to her surprise Peg had agreed to post the letter, but when she received no reply Lucetta suspected that it had never reached the post office, let alone its destination at the fever hospital. The days became progressively colder and Lucetta’s attic room was filled with icy draughts that kept her awake at night, shivering beneath the thin coverlet.

  The cotton frock that had once belonged to Poppy was so worn that the pattern was no longer distinguishable and it had begun to fall apart at the seams. Lucetta had found a coarse linsey-woolsey skirt in the chest but it was theadbare, and would not last the winter. She had learned to sew a straight seam at Miss Milton’s Academy, although most of their lessons had been devoted to the art of embroidery, but she was able to alter the garments that Stranks had brought to her at the hospital so that they now fitted reasonably well. Peg had given her a shawl but this was little protection against the bitter cold of early morning when Lucetta had to fetch water and coal from the yard. Chilblains were a constant torment and her calloused hands were cracked and bleeding by the end of each long day. She had not given up hope but she had learned to live with her situation, and she had formed a working relationship with Peg, who was easy-going unless provoked. It was Bob who gave her the most cause for concern. Outwardly jovial and an excellent mine host in the taproom, he continued to be a brooding sexual menace. Lucetta took care never to be alone in his company and for the sake of peace she said nothing to Peg about his groping hands or the way his eyes raked her body as if he were mentally undressing her. She hated every minute that she was forced to slave away in Frog Hall, as the locals called it, but even though beneath the surface she rebelled she tried to maintain an outward appearance of meek acceptance.

  She watched and waited for the opportunity to slip unnoticed from the pub and it came unexpectedly one afternoon in early December, when Charlie was laid low with a chill and she was called upon to fill the coal scuttle in the taproom. The yard was slippery with a thin coating of ice and the first flakes of snow were tumbling from a grey featherbed of clouds. She tied her shawl around her shoulders and she hefted the heavy bucket, slipping and sliding as she staggered over the cobblestones. Snowflakes settled on the frilled edge of her mobcap, melting as she entered the kitchen and trickling down her face. The wet cotton flopped over her eyes, obscuring her field of vision so that she accidentally barged into a man standing by the bar.

  ‘Look where you’re going, you stupid trull.’

  The voice was instantly recognisable and Lucetta dropped the bucket, spilling nuggets of coal all over the flagstones. Bob cursed her as he lifted the hatch and erupted into the taproom, apologising to the irate customer. He seized Lucetta by the arm, shaking her so violently that her mobcap fell to the floor and her long blonde hair tumbled about her shoulders.

  ‘Bloody hell, it’s you.’

  The irate punter grabbed her by her free arm and she found herself in the middle of a tug of war between Bob and Norman Stranks.

  ‘Let her go, mister,’ Bob roared. ‘This girl works for me.’

  ‘Don’t push me, mate,’ Stranks growled, pulling even harder on Lucetta’s arm.

  ‘This is my pub.’ Bob released Lucetta as he squared up to Stranks. ‘No one tells me what to do in here.’

  Stranks shoved Lucetta aside as he swung a vicious punch, aiming at Bob’s jaw. She would have fallen but a strong arm caught her round the waist. ‘I dunno what you’re doing here, Lucy,’ Guthrie muttered in her ear. ‘I’d run for it if I was you.’ He gave her a push towards the door which had just opened to admit a couple of burly draymen.

  She needed no second bidding. She barged past the newcomers and escaped outside into the swirling snowstorm. She picked up her skirts and ran. There was only one place where she might find sanctuary and she headed in the direction of Liverpool Road. It was mid-afternoon but it was almost dark. The lamplighters had not yet reached this part of Islington, but Lucetta was more afraid of being pursued and caught than of what might linger in gloomy alleyways and narrow side streets. She slipped and fell several times, grazing her hands and knees, but she felt no pain. She ran and kept on running until she reached the imposing neo-classical buildings that constituted the London Fever Hospital. She had often passed this way in Papa’s carriage, but she had never before come on foot. She made her way along the low brick walls topped by railings to the impressive wrought iron gate where gas lamps shone dully through a veil of snowflakes.

  She tried to open the heavy gates, but she had used every last scrap of strength in her flight from Frog Hall and her legs gave way beneath her. She fell to her knees, clutching the ice-cold metal until it burned her chilled fingers. ‘Let me in,’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, please let me in.’

  ‘May I help you?’

  With her hands still locked around the bars, she looked up. The voice was vaguely familiar but the man’s face was in shadow. ‘I c-can’t open the g-gate. W-will you help me, sir?’

  He bent down and attempted to help her to her feet. ‘You will have to let go first, miss. I’m not strong enough to lift you and half a ton of metal.’

  The humour in his voice was not lost on her, and she relaxed her grip. He held out his gloved hand and she grasped it like a drowning woman. He raised her gently and, supporting her weight with his free arm, he opened the hospital gate.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Lucetta whispered. ‘I can manage now, I think.’ She took a step forward and stumbled on the icy cobblestones. He was at her side in an instant and slipped his arm around her waist.

  ‘Allow me to help you into the hospital. They will take care of you.’

  ‘No, I’m not sick, sir. I am looking for a friend.’

  ‘Well, whatever your business, we must get you inside before you catch your death of cold.’

  Lucetta accepted his help and allowed him to lead her across the forecourt. As they entered the vestibule, which would have done justice to a Palladian mansion, Lucetta could not quite repress a shudder. The smell of disinfectant mixed with the slight odour of coal gas brought back hazy memories of the day when Stranks and Guthrie had claimed her as their sister.

  ‘Here we are,’ her companion said, taking off his top hat to reveal a head of thick, dark hair that seemed to have a life of its own, springing up in rebellious spikes where the application of Macassar oil had obviously failed to do its job. He stared at her, frowning. ‘Are you sure you are not in need of medical attention?’

  Lucetta recognised him instantly. ‘Dr Harcourt. I thought I knew your voice.’

  ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘I was a patient here, doctor. I was admitted suffering from typhoid and you looked after me until I was well again. I came here looking for Miss Hastings; she was so kind to me.’

  ‘That sounds like Mary,’ he said, smiling. ‘But she is not on duty today. I’m afraid you have had a wasted journey, Miss er … I’m afraid I can’t recall your name.’

  ‘I’d lost my memory and Nurse Hastings nicknamed me Daisy, but now I’m known as Lucy Cutler, although that isn’t my real name. It’s a long story.

  ‘I can see that,’ he said, staring curiously at her shabby attire. ‘You speak like a lady, but if you’ll forgive my saying so, you look as though you have fallen on hard times.’

  ‘I have, sir, and that’s why I came looking for Mary. I thought she might be able to help me.’

  ‘I think you’d better sit down for a moment.’ Giles Harcourt to
ok her by the arm and guided her to a row of wooden chairs lined up against the wall. ‘I only came to collect some books. Perhaps you’ll allow me to see you home.’

  Lucetta shook her head. ‘I have nowhere to go, sir. I was hoping perhaps I could stay here for tonight.’

  ‘Apart from the fact that it is strictly against hospital rules, you would risk infection from a number of deadly diseases.’

  ‘Then I must look elsewhere.’ Lucetta attempted to rise but her legs stubbornly refused to bear her weight and she sank back onto the hard seat.

  ‘Have you any money?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘That settles it. I cannot allow a young girl like you to tramp the streets in a blizzard. You’d be found frozen to death in a doorway or worse.’

  ‘I’m seventeen, sir,’ Lucetta said, realising that he thought her little more than a child. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Actually, I’m eighteen. I’d quite forgotten but today is my birthday.’

  ‘Come now, there’s no need to cry about it. I’ve had ten more birthdays than that and I’m still a cheerful fellow.’ Giles thrust his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a spotless white handkerchief. ‘Dry your eyes, Miss Cutler. If you would care to wait here for a few minutes while I collect my books, I’ll take you to Lonsdale Square where Mary lives. She’ll look after you.’

  Lucetta accepted the handkerchief with a grateful smile. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, watching his tall figure as he crossed the encaustic-tiled floor to the wide stone staircase where he took the shallow steps two at a time. She buried her face in the hanky, inhaling the delightful scent of freshly laundered cotton dried outside in the frosty winter air. It was such a simple thing and yet it reminded her painfully of the home she had been denied by her devious uncle. As she waited for Giles to reappear, she decided that she would tell Mary everything. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

  ‘Well!’ Mary exclaimed, round-eyed with amazement. ‘What a tale you have to tell, Daisy. Or should I call you Lucetta?’

  Lucetta stretched her bare feet towards the fire blazing away in the grate. Steam rose from her damp skirts and her boots were visibly cracking as they dried out on the hearth. ‘Lucetta is my real name and everything I’ve told you is true,’ she said earnestly. ‘You must believe me.’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ Mary cried, nodding vigorously. ‘We both believe every word, don’t we, Giles?’ She turned her head to give her cousin a pleading glance as he sat beside her on the sofa.

  ‘Of course I believe her,’ Giles said thoughtfully. ‘But I cannot think that a man would deny his own brother’s child in such a way. Maybe he didn’t get a proper look at you, Lucetta. Perhaps he was scared off by those two villains who abducted you.’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Mary added hastily as Lucetta opened her mouth to argue. ‘You had been very poorly and your appearance might have changed considerably since he last saw you. Maybe you ought to give him another chance.’

  Lucetta looked from one earnest face to the other. There was a striking likeness between them; they might have been brother and sister instead of cousins and they seemed to share an unshakeable faith in the innate goodness of their fellow human beings. She realised with a sense of shock that not so long ago she would have thought as they did now. The harsh experiences of the past few months had been a stark revelation after her protected and pampered upbringing. She had witnessed the worst of human nature and it had not been a pretty sight, but she had not the heart to tell them they were wrong. She twisted her lips into a smile. ‘I hope what you say is true.’

  Mary slid off the sofa to kneel at Lucetta’s side. ‘I’m sure it is, my dear. You’ve had a terrible time but that’s all over now. You must stay here tonight and tomorrow we will all go to Thornhill Crescent and confront your uncle, won’t we, Giles?’

  He was silent for a moment. Twin furrows creased his brow and he shook his head. ‘I think it might be better if I went to see Mr Froy on my own,’ he said at length. ‘It might save embarrassment all round if I presented him with the facts, and gave him time to get over the shock of having his niece restored to the family.’

  ‘And I’m on duty all day,’ Mary said, shaking her head. ‘I’d almost forgotten. But I think Giles has a point. He might do better speaking to your uncle man to man.’

  ‘You are very kind,’ Lucetta murmured, brought close to tears by their unquestioning belief in her. ‘But are you sure that your parents won’t mind me staying here?’

  ‘My father is visiting his constituency in Dorset and he will be away for another day or two,’ Mary said, resuming her seat on the sofa. ‘My mother died when I was three, so you see I am mistress of the house and I am inviting you to be our guest, but I can assure you that Papa would do the same if he were here.’

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Lucetta murmured.

  ‘I’m sure we’ll think of something,’ Giles said with a roguish twinkle in his eyes. ‘When you are restored to your fortune you might like to make a generous contribution to the hospital funds, or donate a bursary for poor medical students.’

  ‘Or a slap-up dinner for hungry nurses,’ Mary said, giggling. ‘But seriously, my dear Lucetta, you must have something to eat and then we’ll go upstairs to my room where I’ll sort out some fresh linen for you. I think perhaps those clothes have seen better days, and are not really suited to Miss Lucetta Froy of Thornhill Crescent.’ She leaned over to tug at the bell pull. ‘We’ll have supper on a tray before the fire. Giles is always hungry so I know he won’t refuse.’

  ‘My cousin maligns me,’ Giles countered with a good-natured grin. ‘If you listen to Mary you will think I have the appetite of a donkey and the manners of an ape, all of which is quite untrue.’

  ‘Lucetta can be the judge of that,’ Mary said, ruffling his already tousled hair. ‘But you have the untidiest head in London, Dr Harcourt. You should see him before ward rounds, Lucy. He drenches his hair with Macassar oil and it still won’t lie down. Sister Demarest has threatened him with the scissors many a time.’

  Giles picked up a velvet cushion with long silk tassels and took a half-hearted swipe at her, but Mary was already on her feet and dodged his aim just as a prim-faced maid entered the room.

  ‘Oh, Phyllis,’ Mary said breathlessly. ‘We’d like supper brought up on a tray. Please ask Cook to make it something special as we have a guest.’

  Phyllis flicked a sideways glance at Lucetta but if she was surprised to see a bedraggled street girl sitting in her mistress’s parlour, she was too well disciplined to allow it to show. She bobbed a curtsey. ‘Yes, Miss Mary. Will there be anything else.’

  ‘A bed for the night,’ Giles suggested helpfully.

  ‘For you, sir?’ Phyllis’s features relaxed into a genuine smile.

  Mary shook her head. ‘It’s not for Mr Giles. My friend, Miss Froy, will be staying for a night or two. Please make up the bed in the room next to mine and tell the tweeny to light a fire in there, and make certain that the sheets are properly aired.’

  ‘And bring a bottle of my uncle’s best claret, Phyllis,’ Giles added. ‘It’s Miss Froy’s birthday and it shouldn’t go unmarked.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Will that be all?’

  ‘And some glasses wouldn’t go amiss.’

  ‘Oh, sir,’ Phyllis exclaimed, blushing. ‘You are a one, sir.’ She left the room in a flurry of starched white petticoats.

  ‘Giles, you are such a tease,’ Mary exclaimed, picking up the cushion he had just dropped and throwing it at him. ‘Poor Phyllis, she never knows quite how to take your jokes.’

  He caught the flying object deftly with one hand. ‘Caught and bowled,’ he said, laughing. ‘I may not be the best doctor in the world, Lucetta, but I am an expert when it comes to the game of cricket.’

  ‘And he is so modest too, Lucetta. He thinks he is perfect and I keep telling him that he is not. Someone has to keep his massive ego in check.’

  Lucetta smiled at their p
layful badinage, but beneath it she still sensed that perhaps Mary’s fondness for her cousin went a little deeper than familial affection. Whether or not Giles reciprocated her feelings was another matter, but he was an undeniably attractive man with an easy charm and an engaging sense of humour. Lucetta jumped as he reached out to touch her on the arm.

  ‘Are we tiring you, Lucetta? I think we’re forgetting that you’ve been through a terrifying ordeal.’ There was no hint of mockery in his eyes, which were the colour of rich dark chocolate with a hint of honey.

  She felt a lump rise in her throat and she swallowed hard before answering. ‘I am a little tired, but I can’t tell you how good it is to be here with both of you. I can hardly believe my good fortune. Any moment I think I might wake up and find myself back in that dreadful basement, or in the attic with snow blowing through gaps in the roof.’

  ‘I can’t bear to think of it,’ Mary said with feeling. She held her hand out to Lucetta. ‘I think we’d best get you a change of clothes before supper or you might end up with pneumonia.’

  ‘Best hurry then,’ Giles said, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. ‘I might be tempted to eat your suppers if you spend too long upstairs.’

  ‘Take no notice of him,’ Mary said, pulling a face at her cousin. ‘Giles is all talk, and if he doesn’t behave I’ll set Brutus on him.’

  ‘A threat indeed,’ Giles responded without opening his eyes. ‘I’m terrified.’

  ‘And so you should be.’ Mary held the door open for Lucetta, closing it firmly behind them.

  ‘Who is Brutus?’ Lucetta asked, glancing anxiously up and down the hallway, half expecting a savage hound to come bounding up to them or at the very least a stern-looking family retainer.

  Mary giggled. ‘It’s a joke. I was never allowed to have a dog as a pet. Papa thinks they are dirty unhygienic beasts and will not have one in the house. So I pretended that I had an Irish wolfhound puppy and I named him Brutus. I was an only child and he was very real to me. I used to threaten Giles with him when he teased me, but of course it was only a joke.’ She led the way up the wide staircase that led to a galleried landing, and up another slightly less grand flight of stairs to the second floor. Gas lights flickered inside opalescent glass shades, casting a warm glow on the richly patterned wallpaper and reflecting in the gilt-framed mirrors and oil paintings that lined the wide corridor. A door was open at the far end, spilling light into the shadows at the end of the passage, and Lucetta caught the flash of a white pinafore as the tweeny and Phyllis made up the bed.