No Place for a Lady

by Joan Smith

  “Mr. Sharkey is the only one who went out. He must have forgotten his key. Pest of a man.”

  I put on my dressing gown, snatched up a lamp, and went to open the door, with Miss Thackery bringing up the rear. I unlocked the door, trying to decide whether to tackle Sharkey about the watch that night, or wait until Miss Thackery was not about. To my amazement, I found myself confronted by a tall, glowering Bow Street Officer. He shoved a piece of paper at me.

  “I have a warrant to search the premises of Eric Sharkey for stolen goods,” he said, and marched in.

  I could see nothing for it but to go along with the law. “Third floor, flat 3B,” I said, and he marched up the stairs. He was every bit as noisy as Miss Whately. You would think the police could show a little consideration for the innocent people who had to rise early for work in the morning. Miss Thackery and I did not follow him upstairs. In fact, Miss Thackery said it was no better than she expected of Sharkey and returned to her bed in disgust.

  I waited on the landing and saw Mr. Alger go into the hallway to speak to the officer. Alger was still wearing his evening suit.

  “May I see that warrant, Officer?” he asked in a haughty way. The officer handed over the warrant. Alger examined it. Apparently it was all signed and sealed properly.

  “Is Sharkey at home?” the officer asked.

  “No, I haven’t seen him this evening. What is the charge?”

  “The usual. Receiving stolen goods. Lady Pryor had a ruby ring, a string of pearls, and a watch snaffled by a footpad earlier this evening. Sounded like the sort of goods Sharkey handles.”

  “He has been out of town for a few days, Officer. I think you must be barking up the wrong tree this time.”

  “I’ll have a look over the premises all the same. Might find something else.” He continued up the next flight.

  Alger followed the officer up to Sharkey’s flat, while I stood, dumbfounded. It was not a total shock that Sharkey had come by the watch and ring dishonestly. My own suspicion was that he had actually stolen them himself, but apparently he was only the middleman, buying stolen goods and selling them to the unsuspecting at bargain prices. What upset me more was that Alger was lying to shield him. And what was most disturbing of all was that I was actually in possession of the stolen watch. What should I do? I knew perfectly well I should hand it over to the officer and tell him how I had come by it.

  I was a receiver of stolen goods, but an innocent one. Surely I would not be arrested on my first offense. I thought of Sharkey’s poor widowed mother and those four young sisters. What would they do if Sharkey was tossed in jail? And Alger might go right along with him, for having lied to the police. Really it was a very difficult decision to make. I had still not reached any conclusion when the officer came down from Sharkey’s room some minutes later, empty-handed.

  “No evidence there. You are sure Sharkey has been out of town?” the officer said to Alger.

  Alger, lying in his teeth, replied, “Quite sure. He left two days ago—a drapery shop in Cranbrook was selling out. He expected to be back by tomorrow.”

  “I may drop by for a word with him. Good night, sir. Thank you for your help.”

  “Any time, Officer. Always glad to assist the law.”

  I darted into the saloon and hid while the officer left. I nipped out behind him and locked the door. When I turned around, I emitted a yelp of shock. Mr. Alger was standing at the foot of the stairs, watching me with a quiet, snakelike gaze. I knew instinctively he was wondering how much I had heard. There was a tense, assessing look on his face.

  “The officer searched Sharkey’s flat,” he said. “He didn’t find anything.” His noncommittal speech was an attempt to learn what I knew.

  “How could he, when I have Lady Pryor’s watch hidden in a vase and he still has the ring in his pocket? Why did you lie for Sharkey?”

  “Why did you?” he asked, with a challenging look.

  “I didn’t!”

  “By omission, you did, Miss Irving,” he replied, walking slowly toward me. “You could have given the officer the watch and told him where you got it.”

  “I wish I had! I feel as guilty as a murderer. But why did you tell that plumper, Mr. Alger? Was it because of Sharkey’s family?”

  Mr. Alger wore the strangest, quizzical expression, almost as if he did not know what I was talking about. Then he recovered and assumed a sympathetic pose. “I don’t know what those poor girls would do if anything happened to him.”

  “I doubt very much if he even has a family. I shall report him first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” he said sharply. “Of course he has a family. Why would I lie about that?”

  “I don’t know—unless you are in on it with him,” I said, and was sorry I had given voice to this new possibility. Really it seemed the likeliest way to account for that fine marble chess set in Alger’s room.

  Alger’s face stiffened dangerously. He was within striking distance of me now, and I was suddenly very aware that I was alone in this part of the house with a strong man who could strangle the life out of me if he wanted to. And he looked as if he wanted to.

  He batted his hand and said impatiently, “Don’t act too rashly, Miss Irving. You are not familiar with how the law treats people in this part of London. Sharkey might very well pay with his life. It is true he accepted stolen goods; it was wrong of him if he knew they were stolen. Very likely he was unaware of it. In any case, Lady Pryor can well afford to lose those few trifles.”

  “Surely they would not hang him only for that.”

  “That would depend on how his crime was interpreted. The laws are made to protect the goods and chattels of the wealthy, privileged class.”

  “But it is not right for him to help thieves, Mr. Alger. Surely you are not condoning his behavior.”

  “Of course not, but if he is arrested his sisters will end up on the streets. That seems a hard fate for those innocent young girls. The truth is, I am trying to reform Sharkey. He makes occasional lapses, but with you to ride herd on him as well, I think we might make something of him. This is his first lapse in two months. Let us give him another chance. Surely a minister’s daughter must have some compassion.” Mr. Alger spoke sincerely, almost with passion.

  I was at a loss. I did not want to be too hard on Sharkey; I certainly did not want to be the cause of young girls taking to the streets, yet I did not want to be conned by a pair of crooks, either.

  I said, “If Mr. Sharkey will return the jewelry to Lady Pryor—anonymously—then I shall give him one more chance. But if anything like this occurs again, Mr. Alger, I shall report him—and you—to Bow Street. What would Lord Dolman say if he knew of this night’s work? You would lose your position and jeopardize your whole future.”

  “As a matter of fact, Lord Dolman takes a lenient view of such matters. He is very active on behalf of the underprivileged classes. It was his suggestion that I try to reform Sharkey.”

  It was late, and I was tired and troubled. I had never had such a difficult moral decision to make before. A man’s life was in my hands, and as I thought of how easy my privileged life had been until now, I felt some sympathy for Sharkey. Like Mrs. Clarke, his life was no bed of roses. Perhaps he had more need of my sympathy than Lady Pryor.

  “Will you make Sharkey return the stolen items and see that he does not do it again?”

  “It was my intention. In fact, you may wrap up the watch and ring and post them to Lady Pryor— anonymously—yourself. Will that satisfy your scruples?”

  “Yes, if you include the pearls. The officer mentioned pearls as well.”

  “I don’t believe Sharkey has the pearls. He could only afford the smaller items.”

  “Well, he must return the watch and ring then.”

  He smiled a smile that was worth a little bending of the law. It reeked of approval and a warmth that went considerably beyond approval. “God bless you, Miss Irving. I knew I might count on you. What a
wretched time you are having in London. We shall have to do something about that. Such generosity deserves a tangible reward. Do you like the theater?”

  “You don’t have to bribe me, Mr. Alger. We have made our bargain.”

  “It was not a bribe!”

  “A reward, then.”

  “I am flattened that you see it in that light. I would consider the reward my own, if you would let me take you out.”

  “The only reward I want is that you not mention a word of this to Miss Thackery, or she would think I had run mad. I don’t know what Papa would say ...”

  “I shan’t tell either of them. It will be our little secret. There is nothing like a shared secret to forward a friendship,” he said, with a warm smile. I gave him a sour look.

  He reached out and took my two hands in his. “Come now, let me see that rebel heart. You are no longer a child who must look to her papa for moral guidance.” His dark eyes studied my face in the shadowy hallway. “You are a mature lady, and an extremely attractive one.”

  I heard echoes of Sharkey’s conning speech in that compliment and twitched angrily away. “Don’t add insult to injury by trying to butter me up, Mr. Alger. As you say, I am a mature lady, and too old a cat to be conned by a pup’s flattery.”

  “Pup!” he exclaimed. “I am one and thirty.”

  “Then you are too old to carry on in this ramshackle way. For God’s sake, why do you not move to Berkeley Square and pursue your career in good earnest?”

  His lambent gaze remained fixedly on my face. Then he smiled and said, “But who would help you push your inebriated tenants upstairs of an evening, Miss Irving? As you are kind enough to imply I am a gentleman, I think you should be urging me to stay.”

  “I suggested you leave for your own good.”

  “We should not always put our own good first. You know it would be unfair to see poor Sharkey hung for dabbling a few trinkets. I shall stay, if you let me, and see he does not sin again.”

  “Very well,” I said, and was, in fact, relieved that he was to remain. “And now I shall go to bed. If anyone else knocks at that door, I shall put my head under the pillow and ignore it.”

  “You really require a butler. Could your groom not fill that position for the present?” he said.

  “I daresay he could.” It was an excellent idea. I would ask Mullard to move in from the groom’s quarters over the stable—which meant Miss Thackery and I must double up again. “Good night, Mr. Alger.”

  “Good night, Miss Irving.” He turned to leave, then turned back. “About the theater, it was not a bribe, ma’am. I would like to take you and Miss Thackery one evening.”

  I just nodded and watched him leave. I kept thinking of that elegant marble chess set in his room—and the crystal decanter and glasses. Was he in league with Sharkey, accepting these trifles in payment for his lying to the police, or was he what he claimed, a reformer? I felt I would be awake all night worrying, but toward dawn, I finally dozed off.

  Chapter Eight

  I spoke to Miss Thackery the next morning about moving Mullard into the house to act as butler during the evenings only. We really needed a man about the place. This would not interfere with his cleaning up of the yard and painting of the front door—and such other minor improvements as occurred to us. During my sleepless night, I had come to the conclusion that the only sensible course was to sell the house. I was not equipped to live in this squalid neighborhood, with thieves and prostitutes. Charity begins at home; there were plenty of unfortunate souls in Radstock on whom I could practice whatever compassion and charity I possessed.

  Strangely it was Mullard who would not hear of sharing sleeping quarters with the ladies. He toured the downstairs and found a cubbyhole off the kitchen that he said would suit him down to the heels. It was another storage area, and even contained, under a litter of boxes and bags, a truckle bed. Mullard spent his morning building a bonfire to burn the accumulated debris of my aunt’s long residence at Wild Street. She had been the sort of lady who saved every journal and letter, every worn-out sheet and towel and facecloth.

  Miss Thackery was busy emptying my aunt’s gowns from the clothespress to make room for her own, and I was in my room, writing up a list of things to be done before selling the house. I had adopted the list-making habit from my companion. Getting that front door scraped, painted, and a knocker installed loomed large in my mind. The state of that door would be enough to put off any potential buyer.

  Mrs. Scudpole came to my door and said, “Mr. Alger just came in. He wants a word with you in the hall, Miss Irving.”

  I went to the hallway, but he was not there. I looked into the saloon and saw him walking swiftly toward the window. He seemed to be behaving in a stealthy manner, and I wondered if he was looking out the window to see if someone was following him—Bow Street, perhaps.

  “Did you want to see me, Mr. Alger?” I called.

  He looked startled, but came forward with a smile. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

  “Not at all.”

  He looked all around, and when he was sure we were alone, he handed me the ruby ring. “You have the watch?” he asked.

  “Yes, in that tall vase with the grapes painted on it.”

  He retrieved the watch and gave me Lady Pryor’s address, on Half Moon Street. “I got her address from the directory at Whitehall,” he explained. “I have finished my work for the day. I hope you have not changed your mind about going to Somerset House with me?”

  “No, I should like to see something of London before leaving, as it is unlikely I shall ever return. I have decided to tidy the house a little and put it up for sale at once.”

  He gave a weary sigh. “I feared last night’s activities would give you a disgust of the place. We very seldom have two such interruptions in one night.”

  “I cannot live in such a place as this, Mr. Alger. I am extremely sorry for Mr. Sharkey’s sisters, and for Mrs. Clarke, but really! I shall try to find some respectable person to buy the house—someone who will operate it as my aunt did, so that the tenants are not inconvenienced.”

  He nodded. “You are quite right. This is no place for a lady. Of course you could hire a manager to run it for you. You would still be making a very good income on the investment, as we discussed yesterday.”

  “I would not be making much after paying a manager.”

  “You could find someone who would be happy to do it for the use of one of the flats. Not necessarily the ground floor you use yourself,” he added enticingly. “You could rent that for a good sum.”

  This peculiar insistence on my keeping the house seemed suspicious, yet other than keeping his own flat, what had Mr. Alger to gain by it?

  “I really do not understand you, Mr. Alger. You could be living in luxury at Lord Dolman’s mansion, and instead you stay here, where it is impossible to get a night’s sleep for the drunken revelry and incursions by Bow Street.”

  “Oh, but I have a very charming landlady,” he said, with a flirtatious smile.

  But it was not the landlady he was interested in, or why had he suggested I hire a manager? I went to the desk and rooted in the drawer for a little box to hold the stolen ring and watch. An empty box that had once held headache powders served the purpose. I wrapped them up and addressed them for posting.

  “I take it you have seen Sharkey, as you have got the ring,” I said. “When did he get in? I did not hear him, and I was awake most of the night.”

  “I stopped at his door this morning. He was in; I did not ask him when he got home, but I warned him of Bow Street’s visit. He asked me to give you this,” he said, and handed me the month’s rent.

  I had a strong suspicion that money came out of Mr. Alger’s own pocket. Where had Sharkey gotten it, unless he had robbed someone else?

  “No, he has not been stealing again. He won it at cards,” he said, apparently reading my mind.

  I wrote the receipt and handed it to Alger. Our business was done, b
ut he did not leave.

  “Have you had lunch?” he asked suddenly. “Why do you not get your bonnet and I shall take you out to lunch.”

  “We are very busy today. I really should not go to the exhibition, but I shall.”

  “It would not take long. We shall not be alone at the exhibition, Miss Irving.”

  There was some emphasis on that “alone” that suggested a personal interest. Mr. Alger was exceedingly handsome, and I was not immune to his charm, yet he was not a man to be trusted by any means. “No, really,” I said, with a little blush of pleasure. “We have no need to be alone.”

  “Not an absolute need, perhaps, but a gentleman does like to be alone with a lady he—” He stopped and smiled. “I must learn to control this wayward tongue,” he said. “You see what bad habits a fellow falls into, living among commoners.”

  “Yet you urge me to remain on here!”

  “That might bring forth some very interesting results,” he said, with another flirtatious grin. “But I am not trying to lead you astray. Far from it! Let us just go for a little drive. Get your bonnet. I shall show you Drury Lane Theatre. It is just around the corner.”

  “It will still be there this afternoon. You can show it to me then.”

  “Yes, and I can show it to Miss Thackery, too,” he said, with a look of mock injury. “If it don’t burn down again, that is. Have you seen it since it was rebuilt?”

  “I have never seen it. This is my first trip to London.”

  “Good lord,” he said, and stared as though I had just announced I had another head that I kept at home in a drawer. “I see it will be no problem to entertain you, Miss Irving.”

  “You need not feel constrained to entertain me, sir. I did not come to London for entertainment.”