The Reluctant Heiress

by Dilly Court

  ‘You’re a talented musician, Annie. Surely you could get well-paid work in the theatre or a music hall?’

  ‘No one wants a blind girl. It’s a hard truth, but one I learned a long time ago.’

  ‘But isn’t it dangerous for a pretty young girl like you to be out on the streets?’

  A smile flitted across Annie’s delicate features. ‘Not when you’re under the protection of Harry Trader. I’d rather have Harry as a friend than an enemy, if you get my meaning.’

  ‘I’m beginning to understand,’ Kate said slowly.

  ‘He’s the best. He’s like an older brother, so Joe doesn’t have to worry about me. I’m the one who does the worrying.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kate said with feeling. ‘I understand.’

  ‘You left someone special in Delhi?’

  Annie’s perceptiveness was startling and it took Kate a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘I had many friends in Delhi,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘And now you’re here in Whitechapel.’ Annie mopped up the remainder of the soup with a hunk of bread. ‘You might do well to visit the local churches and get the ministers to mention the work you’re doing here after their sermons on Sunday.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s a good idea.’

  ‘I’ll spread the word, but it will take time for people to know you’re here.’ Annie stood up and reached for her cane. ‘There’s just one thing you need to be aware of.’

  ‘What’s that, Annie?’

  ‘The Trader gang are not the only people who matter round here. You need to keep away from anyone who works for a man named Monks.’

  ‘I’ve been warned about Mad Monks, but what possible interest could his gang have in my soup kitchen?’

  ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Kate. By setting up here, in one of Harry’s premises, you’ve allied yourself to him, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘All I wanted to do was to help people like Ivy. I wanted to make sure that their children didn’t go hungry. I don’t see why that would upset anyone.’

  ‘I’m sure Harry must have told you this, but by setting up a charity here you’ve provided cover for his goings-on without attracting the attention of the police.’ Annie picked up her concertina. ‘But good luck, Kate. I think you’re very brave.’

  Late that evening, taking advantage of the fact that her father had retired to his study to work on some papers, and her mother was dozing quietly by the fire in the drawing room, Kate slipped away and made her way to the old schoolroom on the floor below the servants’ sleeping quarters. There was gaslight only on the first three floors of the house, although Sir Bartholomew had announced earlier that he was considering the addition of gas lighting throughout the building, which had become the main topic of conversation during the evening meal.

  Neither of Kate’s parents had thought to enquire as to the success or failure of the soup kitchen, and that seemed to sum up their interest in their daughter’s venture. Kate was not surprised, and in a way she was relieved. The last thing she needed was criticism of her efforts when she had only just begun, and considering her unintentional involvement with the criminal element, it was better if her father remained in total ignorance of her activities. The only difficulty had arisen when her mother brought up the subject of inviting Spears to dine with them, placing Kate in the invidious position of having to promise faithfully that she would bring that gentleman home the following evening. It was the last thing she wanted. Spears was not noted for being co-operative, and he might refuse – she could only hope that he would.

  By the light of a single candle, Kate explored the schoolroom, where memories lurked in deep shadows. A succession of governesses had led to a motley selection of tutors as Kate had grown from childhood to become an accomplished young woman. But she was not here on a sentimental journey, she had come to find paper, pen and ink, and she settled down to make a large poster, as Annie had suggested. Seated at the teacher’s desk, Kate gazed into the dim recesses of the schoolroom. In her mind’s eye she saw the child who studied on her own, obeying the whims of ageing spinsters, who had little hope of anything better in life. The sharp rap across the knuckles with a ruler, the punishing back brace to make her sit upright, the stinging blows of the cane across open hands – all these memories came flooding back to her.

  Kate bent her head over her work, shutting out the past. She was a grown woman now and she would shape her own destiny, but in the meantime she had an aim in life and that was to help Ivy and a wider community. The poster was only the beginning, and it mattered little to her that she would also be helping to shield a criminal gang. Harry Trader might be using her, but, if setting up shop in his premises was the only way to get help to the needy, it was a price she was prepared to pay.

  Kate and Jenny set off early next morning, heading first for the market and then for the premises in Cable Street.

  Spears greeted them with a surly expression that emphasised the deep wrinkles on his face, putting Kate in mind of a pickled walnut. She controlled the urge to laugh with difficulty.

  ‘I suppose you want me to lug the tables back downstairs,’ Spears said crossly.

  ‘Yes, if you please, Mr Spears.’ Kate managed a smile.

  ‘I don’t please. I had to get them back upstairs last evening for the meeting. I’ve got a bad back, I’ll have you know. Every movement is pure agony.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Kate said, trying to sound as if she meant it. ‘But it is for a good cause.’

  ‘No one considers whether I might need help or not.’ Spears stamped over to the door, flung it open and allowed it to slam behind him as he thudded up the stairs.

  ‘I can see that he’s not going to be much help today,’ Jenny said, grinning. ‘I’ll go and see to the fire in the range. He’s probably let it go out, just to spite us.’

  Kate took the rolled-up poster from her basket and shook it out. ‘I’ll paste this to the window. And I’ve had another idea, although I don’t suppose Spears will find it very appealing.’

  ‘What do you want him to do?’ Jenny asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

  ‘I’ve seen men with billboards strapped to their front and back,’ Kate said, chuckling. ‘We’re going to turn him into a sandwich man.’

  Jenny doubled up with laughter, but the sound of Spears bumping a piece of furniture down the stairs made her beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. Kate could hear Jenny chuckling even as Spears erupted into the room, cursing beneath his breath as he gave the table a mighty shove.

  ‘It were a bad day when I opened the door to you, miss. I had a nice peaceful life until you walked in and ruined everything.’

  ‘Look at it this way, Mr Spears,’ Kate said reasonably. ‘While we are here giving free food to those in need, the police are unlikely to raid these premises. Or so I’ve been told.’

  Spears eyed her suspiciously. ‘What d’you know about the goings-on upstairs?’

  ‘Nothing, Mr Spears, and it’s better that way. Now if we could have the other table and the chairs brought down here that would be very helpful.’

  ‘I ain’t your slave,’ Spears grumbled as he hesitated at the foot of the staircase. ‘You can’t tell me what to do.’

  Kate knew that he had a point, but she was not about to let him get an advantage over her. ‘Mr Spears, I value your co-operation so much so that my parents have invited you to dine with us in Finsbury Square this evening.’

  He glared at her suspiciously. ‘You don’t mean it. You’re making fun of me.’

  ‘No, on my honour I meant every word I said. Please come.’

  He grunted and shuffled off in the direction of the stairs. Kate was about to follow him when the street door opened and Perry strolled in. Spears shot upstairs as if the devil himself were after him.

  ‘Who was that strange fellow?’ Perry took off his top hat and laid it on the table together with his cane. He peeled off his gloves, taking in his surroundings with a critical gaz
e.

  ‘That was the caretaker,’ Kate said hastily. ‘But what are you doing here, Perry? Is this a social call? Because if you’re hungry we aren’t nearly ready to serve up luncheon.’

  ‘I’m sure the soup will be delicious, but this is purely a social call. I wanted to see where you had set up your charity.’

  Kate encompassed the premises with a wave of her hands. ‘This is where we serve the food. The kitchen is through that door. Take a look, by all means.’

  She followed him into the back room where Jenny had begun peeling a mountain of vegetables.

  ‘You seem well organised, but have you had many customers?’ Perry retrieved a potato that had rolled onto the floor and handed it back to Jenny.

  ‘Not really,’ Kate admitted reluctantly. ‘That’s why I stuck the notice in the window.’ She turned her head at the now familiar sound of Annie’s cane tap-tapping on the bare floorboards. ‘We’re in the kitchen, Annie.’

  ‘I hope she’s brought her concertina,’ Jenny said in a whisper. ‘I love a bit of music.’

  ‘I never go anywhere without it.’ Annie stood in the doorway, a smile hovering on her lips. ‘I thought if I stood outside and played some lively tunes it might attract attention to your soup kitchen.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Kate said enthusiastically. ‘This is Annie Blythe, Perry. She’s a brilliant musician.’

  ‘Perry?’ Annie turned to him as if she sensed his presence.

  ‘I’m an old friend of Kate’s,’ Perry said hastily. ‘Peregrine Harte, but my friends call me Perry.’

  Annie moved a step closer to him. ‘You work with dusty old books and papers. Are you a lawyer?’

  He stared at her in amazement. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘You speak like a lawyer. I can tell by the tone of your voice, and the smell of old books clings to your clothes. I suppose you could be a law writer or a clerk, but your voice gives you away. You are used to making yourself heard across a courtroom.’

  ‘Amazing,’ Perry said softly. ‘You should work for the police, Annie. You would make a good detective.’

  Kate stepped in between them. The mention of the police had unnerved her, and she wondered if Perry was aware that the premises were owned by a notorious criminal. If he knew about Harry Trader he might feel honour-bound to tell her father, and that would be the end of her attempts to feed those most in need. She was about to speak when the outer door burst open and the sound of running feet preceded Ivy and a brood of young children.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, Perry.’ Ivy reached out to grab the hand of the oldest boy. ‘Stay still, Frankie. We’ve come at a bad time.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Kate said, smiling. The sudden appearance of the Harris family was a welcome distraction. ‘I’m sure we can find something for Frankie and his sister to do.’

  ‘If you’ll excuse me speaking out,’ Ivy said shyly, ‘I thought that my three eldest could go out and let people know we’re here.’

  ‘They could hand out leaflets, if you get some printed, Kate.’ Perry took a small notepad from his pocket and a stub of a pencil. ‘I could get some done quite quickly.’

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, Perry,’ Ivy said nervously, ‘but most folk round here can’t read anyway, and they’re the ones who most need a free meal. My nippers know who to tell.’

  Kate nodded enthusiastically. ‘What a good idea. Of course I’ll pay your children for their trouble. I know you will be missing the money they usually earn if they help me, so I’ll make it up to you.’

  ‘Ta, miss,’ Frankie said eagerly. ‘Shall us go out now?’

  The younger children were eyeing the loaves of bread that Kate and Jenny had purchased on the way to Cable Street, and Kate suspected that they had not yet eaten.

  ‘First of all you must find somewhere to sit and I’ll cut some bread for you. I think I might have a pot of jam in my basket, too.’

  Frankie and May rounded up the younger children and they sat in a circle on the floor, waiting eagerly while Kate and Jenny prepared the food, passing the jammy bread to Ivy, who distributed it among the children.

  ‘You, too, Ivy.’ Kate handed her a crust spread with strawberry jam.

  Ivy looked as if she would refuse, but the aroma of the still warm bread was too much for her and she sunk her teeth into it with a sigh of contentment.

  ‘I’ve eaten, thank you,’ Annie said when Kate offered her a slice. ‘But I will play a tune for the little ones, if I may?’

  ‘That would be lovely. You play, Annie, and I’ll make a pot of tea for us workers.’ Kate turned to Perry with a smile. ‘What about you? Have you had breakfast?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, but I have a court session in half an hour, Kate. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. This isn’t the best part of town,’ he added in a low voice.

  ‘That’s why we’re here.’ Kate followed him to the street entrance. ‘You won’t say anything of that nature to my father, will you?’

  ‘No, of course not. You’re a young woman who knows her own mind. I admire you for that, but be careful, that’s all I’m saying.’ He picked up his hat, gloves and cane. ‘Good luck, Kate. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.’ He was about to leave but he paused, listening to the tune that Annie was playing. ‘She is a good musician.’

  ‘Yes, and I’ve told her she’s wasting her talents playing in the streets of Whitechapel, but she seems content to do so.’

  ‘Maybe we can help her. She looks so frail, as if a puff of wind would blow her away.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love, Perry?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He leaned over to brush her cheek with a whisper of a kiss. ‘I’m just speaking the truth. Anyway, I must get back to my dusty books; Annie was quite right. I really should get out of the office more often.’ He walked off at a brisk pace, ramming his top hat on his head as he went.

  Kate closed the door and went back to the kitchen. She was met by a ring of jammy, grinning faces as the children swayed in time to the sound of Annie’s concertina.

  Jenny handed Kate a cup of tea. ‘What a nice young man. Is he your sweetheart, miss?’

  ‘I knew him before I went to India, but I haven’t seen him for three years.’

  ‘He’s very handsome,’ Jenny said, grinning. ‘I wish I had a gentleman friend like him.’

  Ivy went round her children with a damp cloth, wiping jam from sticky faces and fingers. ‘Right, Frankie, May and Jimmy. You can go out and spread the word that the soup kitchen will be open at midday. May, you can take Nellie with you, but don’t let her stray too near the docks or the watermen’s stairs.’

  ‘Yes, Ma.’ May’s small face lit up with pride as she took her younger sister by the hand. ‘Come on, Nellie. You and me will bring in more people than Frankie and Jimmy.’

  Frankie scrambled to his feet and headed for the street door, followed by Jimmy. ‘I’ll beat you two, easy. Nellie’s just a baby and you’re a girl.’

  ‘I’m not a baby and I’ll get more people than you do, Frankie.’ Nellie pushed past him and raced out into the street.

  ‘Look after each other,’ Kate said, smiling as she closed the door after them. She did not hold out much hope that they would bring in the hordes of hungry people, but even a few would be a start.

  She moved swiftly to the door that led to the stairs and opened it. ‘Mr Spears, we need the other table and benches. Right away, if you please.’ She was answered by a muffled grunt and she returned to the kitchen to help Jenny with the soup.

  When Kate arrived home late that afternoon, after a moderately successful lunchtime service, she was met in the hallway by her mother.

  Arabella wrinkled her nose. ‘Kate, you smell of onions and you look like a skivvy. For heaven’s sake go upstairs, take a bath and change out of those stained clothes.’

  ‘Why? What’s the fuss about, Mama?’

  ‘I am not fussing, and don’t take that t
one with me, my girl. As a matter of fact we have a guest for dinner tonight and I want you to make a good impression.’

  ‘Who’s coming?’

  ‘The new curate from All Saints’ church. He’s the son of a baronet and very well thought of.’

  ‘You’re matchmaking, Mama.’

  ‘Don’t say it like that, Kate. Your papa and I are trying to make sure that you don’t end up an old maid. There, I’ve said it before, but I fear that’s the way you’re heading.’

  ‘There’s no shame in being an unmarried woman, Mama. Miss Nightingale is unmarried and is very well respected.’

  ‘She has done something in the world, Kate. You are a judge’s daughter with a good education and you are quite presentable. Don’t allow a foolish romance to cloud your judgement. We are back in England now and you have a duty to respect the wishes of your parents. Now, please go upstairs and change. I’ve instructed the maids to fill a bath with hot water.’

  Kate could see that it was useless to argue. Life was easier if she humoured her mother and obeyed her father, or at least made it appear that she was compliant with all his dictates. It was one evening out of her life; she would be nice to the curate, and maybe he could send some of his poorer parishioners to her soup kitchen.

  Bathed, scented and wearing her smartest dinner dress, Kate made her way to the drawing room.

  Sir Bartholomew was standing with his back to the fire, chatting apparently amicably with a tall, thin young man. Arabella was seated primly on the sofa, clutching a glass of sherry.

  ‘Kate come and meet Mr Haroldson, our new curate from All Saints’ church.’ Sir Bartholomew beamed at her, although Kate knew by his fixed smile that she was expected to behave with the utmost propriety.

  ‘How do you do, Mr Haroldson?’ she said dutifully, holding out her hand.

  He held it for a few seconds longer than necessary, peering at her through the thick lenses of his steel-rimmed spectacles. The firelight reflected off a shiny patch of his balding pate, but his smile seemed genuine. ‘How do you do, Miss Martin? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about your good works from your dear mama.’