‘Well, this is a surprise. May I enquire what thou dost here?’
I laced my hands together, scrutinizing each sister in turn. Miss Miller was the most formidable – her expression alert, her movements vigorous. Miss Prudence was the most excitable: her eyes bright. Miss Fortitude was the most timorous – she looked plain scared. All of them looked honest – all of them trustworthy. This was essential for I was going to have to put my faith in them if I was going to tell them the truth.
‘I’ve been having a rather extraordinary few weeks since we last met,’ I confessed. ‘May I sit down and I’ll tell you what’s happened? All I ask is, at the end, you tell me if I can stay for a while.’
I took a deep breath and plunged into my tale.
‘In all my life, I’ve never heard anything like it!’ said Miss Miller when I’d finished.
‘You theatre types certainly lead interesting lives,’ said Miss Prudence, hugging herself with excitement. ‘I wish I’d seen you punch that bully!’
‘Prudence!’ rapped out Miss Miller severely. ‘Remember, we never approve of violence.’
Miss Fortitude got up without a word and filled the kettle.
‘What dost thou, sister?’ asked Miss Miller.
‘I’m preparing a bath for our guest,’ she replied meekly.
‘But we haven’t yet decided if she is to stay!’ protested her elder.
Miss Fortitude drew herself up to her full five feet and faced her sister. ‘Of course she stays. Our life is dedicated to helping those in distress. She has suffered because of the persecution of wicked men. Thou durst not turn her away.’
Miss Miller and Miss Prudence both looked shocked to hear their timid sister rebel, but then the elder regained her composure.
‘Sister Catherine, look what thou hast done! Thou hast been under our roof but an instant and already Drury Lane begins to work on my sisters.’ My stomach clenched in a knot of panic: was Miss Miller about to throw me out? Then her stern face relaxed into a smile as she turned to her youngest sister. ‘But well said, Fortitude. I have always thought thou art too compliant – thou dost what is right. But let us first use the water for tea, then a bath. Our sister has passed a comfortless night and is in more need of breakfast than cleanliness.’
‘But what will we tell our brothers and sisters?’ asked Miss Prudence. ‘Her connection to the theatre will be most difficult for us to explain.’
‘Then we say nothing on the subject. Indeed, my conscience is clear on this point for we are duty bound to keep silent. Sister Catherine’s origins must not be broadcast to the whole congregation – that would put her at risk,’ said Miss Miller.
Her sisters were very relieved by this comfortable doctrine.
‘You mean, silence is golden?’ I asked archly.
‘That’s precisely what I mean,’ smiled Miss Miller.
This pronouncement opened the gates on a flood of kindness from the sisters. Under their gentle ministrations, I was fed, washed and clothed. It was a particular relief to have a proper bath in front of the kitchen fire as I’d not had one for many months.
‘No shoes!’ tutted Miss Prudence as she tied one of her aprons over the too-big dress I had been given. They were all small women, but even so their clothes swamped me.
‘I’ll go to Mrs Jones. She has a brood of children: we should be able to borrow some clothes the right size for Sister Catherine,’ said Miss Miller, putting on her bonnet. ‘I will get some milk while I’m there. Young people need more milk than us oldsters.’
Miss Miller sallied out with Miss Fortitude, leaving me alone with Miss Prudence. She took a comb and began to tackle my hair.
‘I always wanted long red hair like you had,’ she confided in me. Her own white locks peeped out from under her cap – she really was very pretty with her heart-shaped face and periwinkle blue eyes. She must have been stunning as a girl. ‘It shows that thou dost not suffer from the sin of vanity when thou sacrificed thy hair to a greater cause.’
‘Oh, I’m vain enough,’ I confessed, ‘but I don’t think I’ve much to be vain about. Now, Lizzie, Lady Elizabeth, that’s who I think of as being beautiful.’
Miss Prudence smiled and tucked my hair behind my ears.
‘Promise you won’t tell?’ she asked me conspiratorially.
‘Of course,’ I replied, wondering what secret she was about to reveal.
She moved to her workbag and pulled out a length of green ribbon. ‘I can’t resist pretty things. I have lots and lots of them hidden away.’
‘Why don’t you wear them in your cap? You’d look lovely.’
She fastened the ribbon in my hair. ‘We don’t approve of such vanities. We like things to be plain, simple and serviceable.’
‘But the world won’t come to an end if you wear just a little one,’ I coaxed her. ‘Please show me your collection. I can’t be the only one wearing ribbons.’
With great pride, Miss Prudence laid out her rainbow of silks and satins. I picked out a blue one and tied it around her white cap.
‘There! That matches your eyes.’
Miss Prudence giggled and patted her head nervously. ‘I feel very wicked,’ she admitted.
‘I’m sure God likes you to feel that sort of wicked as it doesn’t harm anyone.’
This idea delighted her. ‘Sister Catherine, I think thou art in the right. One ribbon will not bring the meeting house down about our ears.’
Miss Prudence and I spent a happy hour chatting about the theatre until her two sisters returned in triumph. They bore a can of milk and a pair of shoes only one size too big.
‘Mrs Jones had heard of thy escape already,’ said Miss Miller, pouring me a large glass of milk. Her eyes slid to her sister’s cap but she made no comment. ‘Her husband carried thee here.’
‘Elias! He was very kind,’ I said, taking a sip. The milk tasted so fresh and creamy, unlike the thin stuff I had in town, which was watered down and mixed with flour. ‘Is he a Quaker too?’
Miss Prudence laughed. ‘No, he is one of those Methodistical fellows – fine folk, if a little too noisy for our taste. And fie, Sister Catherine, if thou stayest among us, thou must not call us Quakers. We are the Society of Friends.’
I blushed. ‘I’m sorry, I was told you were called Quakers.’
‘That’s what some call us,’ nodded Miss Miller, picking up her knitting and making herself comfortable in her chair, ‘because, when the Spirit moves, we have been known to quiver and shake in the presence of our Maker. But it also can be taken to mean our desire to rock the foundations of injustice and bring the house of slavery crashing to the ground. We work to make God’s kingdom come on earth and slavery has no part in that heavenly society where all shall be friends.’
This sounded all very well, but, in my opinion, there was a flaw in her view of the world.
‘I don’t think I can be friends with men like Kingston Hawkins,’ I said.
‘Even him, Sister Catherine. He also is a child of his Maker though he has left the path of truth. One day the lion shall lie with the lamb. Thou must pray for him.’
This seemed a very tall order. ‘I’m not sure I can,’ I replied. ‘I think he’s still at the stage where he’ll eat the lamb if he so much as catches a glimpse of a shake of its tail.’
Miss Miller smiled and let the matter drop.
Time passed slowly as I waited to hear news of Pedro. It was difficult to contain my impatience but I knew that I could be of no help until we had a sign that he was being moved to the port. In the meanwhile, I was faced with a new challenge: behaving myself. I had never lived in such a sober, industrious household with regular mealtimes, prayers and early to bed. No one had ever expected me to act like a polite young lady before. I found it quite a struggle to fit in, not least since I had been playing a boy for the past few weeks.
‘Sister Catherine, a lady does not sit with her knees apart in that rude fashion,’ rapped out Miss Miller as I lolled in a chair during the ev
ening Bible reading.
I sat up straight and put my hands in my lap. I really didn’t want to offend my kind hosts. Boredom took over again and I began twiddling my thumbs absent-mindedly. A basket of sewing was dumped in my lap.
‘The Devil makes work for idle hands,’ said Miss Fortitude sweetly.
Whistling, running, jumping, laughing too boisterously – all were out. I had to school myself to sit quietly, keep my back straight and my deportment correct. Miss Miller also said I was to keep my thoughts godly, but she agreed that this might be a step beyond my capabilities for the present.
I had started by liking the Miss Millers for their kindness, but as the days passed, I grew to admire them too. I had imagined that they were quiet, retiring sorts, but I was proved wrong. They were running an empire every bit as big as Billy Shepherd’s, though with a far different purpose. Miss Miller corresponded with Quakers in every corner of the country and even abroad as she spread the word about the abolition movement. The cottage was a hive of political activity. The post boy came to the gate every day bearing letters. He and I were soon on first name terms. From what he told me, I was surprised the Miss Millers had any money left, for so much went paying the carrier’s charges.
Their lives had so much more purpose than my own shiftless existence. If only they would allow themselves a little more fun . . .
ACT V
SCENE 1 – CARGO ON THE MOVE
Snow was falling thick and fast as four demure Quaker women descended from a hackney carriage and mounted the steps to a very fine house in Grosvenor Square, whose windows blazed with candlelight. The door opened immediately.
Word had reached Mr Equiano that Hawkins showed signs of leaving England; none of us doubted that he’d try to take Pedro with him. Having decided that I was unlikely to be spotted among so many visitors, it had been agreed that I could risk attending the meeting that night. To be doubly sure, only Joseph was on duty as the most trustworthy of all the staff.
‘Ladies, if you will follow me to the library,’ he said without even pausing to take our street clothes.
As we entered the book-filled room, I saw at once that there were no children playing on the ladders today. My heart ached for the boy who’d taken the trip with me along the shelves. But, though there were some here who might have been game on another occasion, at this emergency meeting of the abolitionists, we all felt far too serious to indulge in horseplay.
The duchess moved between her guests, greeting rich and poor alike with her inimitable brand of good humour. Among the other abolitionists already gathered, I recognized Elias Jones.
‘Pleased to see you in better company, Miss Fence-Jumper,’ he said after bowing to the sisters.
‘Very much better, thanks to you.’ I looked around the gathering – all sections of society were present from peers to paupers, the latter represented in my own person. ‘Talking of company, our cause seems to have quite a levelling effect, wouldn’t you say, Mr Jones?’
‘Aye, miss, that it does,’ he agreed, following my thought. ‘We don’t need a revolution like them Frenchies to bring us together in fellowship. But still, I found it very strange coming to the front door, being used to delivering round the back of houses like this.’
I liked him for his honesty. ‘Me too. It was only Pedro who had the nerve to ring the front door bell when we came for the first time.’
‘Poor lad,’ murmured Mr Jones. ‘I hope we can save him but I fear we’d better pray for a miracle.’
‘Amen,’ said Miss Miller.
Seeing us standing in a corner, the duchess sallied over.
‘I’ve come to thank you for taking in our little stray,’ she addressed the sisters. ‘You’re perfect saints, all three of you.’
‘They have to be to put up with me,’ I said, receiving her hearty kiss on both cheeks.
Lizzie followed her mother, bringing with her someone I didn’t want to see again.
‘Cat, I don’t think you’ve met my very dear friend Milly Hengrave, have you?’ said Lizzie mischievously.
I blushed and curtsied clumsily to Charlie’s sister. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hengrave.’
Milly looked straight at me. ‘Good gracious! Do you know you bear a stunning resemblance to my brother’s old room mate? You don’t have a twin by any chance?’
I coughed. ‘Er, no, Miss Hengrave.’
There was an awkward pause, then Milly, Lizzie and the duchess all burst into laughter.
‘I know all about it,’ said Milly, wiping her eyes. ‘Little brother, I’m delighted to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Charlie. My, how you’ve . . . shrunk since I last saw you in Ireland.’
I relaxed and returned her friendly smile. ‘The real Thomas is going to have trouble when he gets to school if he’s as big as Charlie says. The Latin teacher has him earmarked for all the female roles in classical drama.’
‘And how are you, Cat?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Frank and I were so worried until we received your note.’
‘I’m fine. Only scared for Pedro.’
Lizzie’s smile faded. ‘I know. Syd’s been keeping an eye on the river. He’s got boys posted on all the landing places. When Hawkins does make his move, the key will be to act swiftly to get the habeas corpus from a magistrate.’
‘Where is Syd? Is he coming?’
‘He’s sorry he can’t be here, Cat. He’s got a match. He’s sending one of his boys along.’
The abolitionists began to take their places in the circle of chairs prepared for them. As the crowd thinned, Charlie and Frank came over to greet me.
‘Miss Bennington-Smythe, a pleasure as always,’ said Frank, bending over my hand a little stiffly.
‘How are the scars?’ I asked.
‘A trifle compared to what your persecutors got. I am pleased to report that the planters were soundly beaten.’
‘The Prince of Wales was most displeased,’ chipped in Charlie.
‘Oh? I thought he rather relished the sport.’
‘He did. But when he found out what it was about, he placed a wager on the planters with Mr Sheridan.’
Mr Equiano appeared at my shoulder and placed a welcoming hand on my arm. ‘His Royal Highness favours the pro-slavery cause, you know, like the rest of the royal family,’ he said levelly.
‘I didn’t.’ That was depressing news. If the king himself was against abolition, it was hard to imagine the cause making much progress in parliament.
‘I’m pleased to see you in a safe harbour, Miss Royal,’ Mr Equiano continued, nodding at the Miss Millers. ‘Let us hope we can soon say the same thing about our boy.’
As the meeting got under way, I looked round the room for Syd’s representative, but I could not see anyone I recognized. My curiosity was satisfied when I heard a commotion outside. Joseph strode into the room closely followed by Nick, both looking very excited.
‘We have news at last, your grace!’ Joseph announced to the duchess, quite forgetting his station as he burst in upon the meeting.
Nick bent double to regain his breath. ‘Just found out. They’ve moved the cargo. Pedro was put on board this evenin’. ’
‘Which ship? Where?’ asked Mr Sharp, alert for action.
‘The Jenny Wren, Captain Taylor. It’s lying in the Pool on the Greenwich side of the river.’
‘Right, let’s go!’ said Mr Sharp to Mr Equiano. ‘We’ll tackle Sir John Solmes and get the writ. Gentlemen, we’ll leave you to hold the ship until we arrive.’
In the general bustle to leave, Nick wormed his way over to me and shook my hand. ‘Good to see you again, Cat.’
‘And you, Nick. Whom do we have to thank for tonight’s news?’
Nick shrugged. ‘Don’t know ’is name – a little ragged fellow, though ’e ponged of fish sure enough. You know, Cat, I think Shepherd is tryin’ to be clever. ’E thought Syd’d be too busy to notice but the Billingsgate lads were on to ’is game. I’ve got to go and tell Syd now. You st
ay put. I’ll see you back ’ere – with the Prince, I ’ope.’
Nick darted out the way he had come. Soon after, Frank and Charlie left with Mr Sharp and Mr Equiano. Elias Jones, a determined look on his face, led the remaining men off to find the Jenny Wren and keep her in port. Soon only we women remained behind, sitting around the fire in silence.
‘What do we do now?’ I asked, wishing I had some task I could perform. I hated having to wait for others to act.
‘Let us pray for our brothers, particularly Brother Pedro,’ said Miss Miller, folding her hands and closing her eyes.
And all of us did pray, or tried to. Heavenly guidance or my own restlessness, I’ve no idea, but my thoughts kept returning to the boy who’d brought the message – the boy Nick did not know. It was like an itch I couldn’t quite reach to scratch. You see, I’d been caught out by Billy Shepherd that way before. He’d once used a stranger to lure me into the Rookeries. Nick had said Shepherd was clever, but I knew him to be more than that: he was the most devious person alive. If his name was wrapped up in a bit of business, I’d bet my last farthing that it was not what it seemed, that he would have twisted it in some way to his advantage. Look at his invitation to see Pedro: he’d wanted to take me so he could control what we did with the information. He loved to be in charge. Putting myself in his smelly shoes for a moment, he would have guessed that Syd was having him watched. He knew we were waiting for him to move Pedro to the river. Would he really carry Pedro on board without trying to distract us from his purpose? It was too straightforward – therefore, it wasn’t right.
‘It’s a diversion,’ I announced suddenly to the silent room.
‘What’s that you say, child?’ asked Miss Miller, her eyes snapping open.
‘Billy Shepherd – he’s sending us on a wild goose chase. The messenger boy was a decoy. If he’s sent a message that Pedro’s on the south side of the river, you can bet that he’s on the north.’ I was on my feet, tying on my bonnet.
‘That’s preposterous!’ exclaimed Miss Miller.
‘Are you sure?’ said the duchess, frowning.
Cat Among the Pigeons Page 16
