A Substitute Wife for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance

by Alice Coldbreath

  Both girls were giggling, and one was tugging the handkerchief out of her beaux’s top pocket, while he tried to catch her about the waist. The young men had too much pomade in their hair. They looked rather like shopkeeper’s assistants on their day off.

  Ma was already headed resolutely toward them, so Lizzie pocketed her empty bottle and hurried after her. “Care to have your fortune told, my dearies,” Ma wheedled in a sickly-sweet voice.

  One of the young men’s face hardened. “Be off with you!” he said sternly. “We want no beggars here, old woman.”

  “Beggars?” screeched Ma. “You’ll be feeling my curse on you for your impertinence, young man!” Lizzie blanched, hardly knowing where to put herself.

  “Oh, Bert!” one of the young girls cried in lively distress. “You mustn’t, oh indeed, you must not! I read a story in a magazine where this happened, and oh, it was awful what befell them!”

  Ma wheeled about on her at once. “Ah-hah!” she cried out. “You’re a clever one, my pretty. You needn’t despair.” She stretched out her fingers. “A bright star shines at your brow and fortune smiles down upon your path in life.”

  The young woman’s mouth fell open. “Oh,” she breathed. “Does it really?”

  Lizzie rolled her eyes.

  Ma Toomes nodded gravely. “If you care to hear more from Granny, dearie, you’ll need to cross my palm with silver.”

  “Oh,” her face fell. “But I spent my last sixpence, Clarence,” she said turning crestfallen to her companion.

  He grimaced but reached into his pocket all the same. “Here,” he said shortly and flipped a coin. Quick as a flash, Ma snatched it out of the air. She turned an ingratiating smile upon the young woman.

  “Sweets to the sweet,” she crooned. “Let me see that pretty palm.” With only the slightest of hesitations, the girl held out one rosy upturned hand. Ma Toomes seized it and frowned over it over a moment. “Ah yes,” she muttered, one finger hovering in the air and twitching as she seemed to trace some map only she could see there. “I see a Valentine,” she said squinting closer.

  “Oh yes,” the girl breathed. “I received one this year.” She blushed and glanced at Clarence who turned a fiery red.

  Ma nodded. “From your true love and fated one.”

  The girl gasped. “Is it really?”

  Lizzie saw the other young man, Bert, give a start. A look of annoyance crossed over his face and she realized both young men must be keen on the same girl.

  “I see the letter ‘C’ written in the stars,” Granny said in a faraway voice.

  “Oh, that’s me,” the young woman squeaked excitedly. My name is Clara, you see.”

  “No, it’s not for Clara, though it’s close,” Ma continued sounding puzzled. “The fates are drawing back a curtain now for me to see …” She squinted. “The name is …”

  “Clarence!” the girl squeaked.

  Granny nodded and smiled. “Clarence,” she repeated. “I see I’m telling you nothing you do not already know deep down in your heart.”

  Bert was practically gnashing his teeth by now, though Clarence looked foolishly gratified.

  “Oh, but I didn’t!” the girl marveled. “I was ever so unsure, but now I know,” she said casting a glowing look at Clarence. “Oh, thank you, thank you, you wonderful old lady!” she gushed. “Oh, Clarence!”

  Clarence whipped out his handkerchief and handed it to Clara, who dabbed daintily at her eyes.

  “Oh, I’m so glad we came,” Clara gushed. “This is a hundred times better than those old swing boats!”

  Clarence laughed heartily as Clara slipped her arm through his and they moved away, leaving Bert to stare after them sourly.

  “Well, you’ve properly queered my pitch!” he grumbled.

  Ma rocked back on her heels. “Your fortune don’t hold love,” she told him comfortably. “Only that what glitters.”

  “Let’s get after them, Bert,” the other girl said coming forward and grabbing his arm. “We’ll get left behind.”

  He shook her off. “Get off, Trudie. What do you mean, that what glitters?” he demanded, turning back to Ma Toomes. She held out her palm, and grudgingly he dug into his pocket. “Here,” he said and dropped a coin into her outstretched hand.

  Ma Toomes sniffed, glanced at the coin, and then seized his palm. “Yer not built for love,” she said, flashing him a cunning look. “But I do see riches and a ship docked at a port.”

  “A ship?” he looked annoyed. “What’s that to me?”

  “But, Bert,” said Trudie. “Don’t you see? That must be the ship that Mr. Pratt has docking at Liverpool next month.” Bert inhaled sharply. “He offered you a passage on it as a clerk, didn’t he?”

  “I turned him down flat,” Bert said slowly. “I thought – ” He flushed, and Lizzie guessed he had thought to pursue the fair Clara instead.

  “That’s the path laid out before you by the fates,” Ma Toomes intoned solemnly. “If you deviate from it … disaster.” She spoke the last word with hollow emphasis.

  Trudie gave an alarmed gasp, but Bert still looked unconvinced. “I’m not sure,” he prevaricated. “The only time I ever took a sea voyage I was sick as a dog.”

  “Got to find your sea legs, haven’t yer,” Ma said with a callous shrug. “That don’t take long.”

  “And if I do take this course? You can guarantee I will meet with success?”

  Ma peered once more at his outstretched hand. “Yer fortune will be made,” she wheezed. “Sure as eggs is eggs.”

  Bert drew his hand back, looking half-dazed.

  “Come along,” Trudie urged him, casting a fearful glance at Ma Toomes. “Or we’ll never catch them up.” He allowed himself to be led away, and Lizzie watched after them in some bewilderment.

  “See how it’s done, girl?” Ma Toomes asked sharply.

  “But how can you guarantee he should take that position?” Lizzie asked. “Or the identity of that young woman’s true love, if it comes down to it?”

  Ma Toomes snorted. “Either love or money. You has to predict one or t’other.”

  Lizzie eyed her narrowly. “You mean, in fact, that you saw neither?”

  Ma Toomes shrugged. “I just says what pops into me ’ead, girl,” she answered prosaically. “Who’s to say that’s not a gift?”

  Lizzie regarded her speechlessly. “I’m not going to be able to do this,” she said stiffly. “I don’t have a ready tongue; I can’t read palms and I am not good with strangers.”

  “You’ll learn, if you has to,” Ma Toomes predicted. “And you do have to.”

  “It’s not just that, but also approaching people,” Lizzie objected in an urgent undertone. “I simply could not bring myself to do such a thing. I can hardly threaten them with curses as you do! It would never work for me!”

  “Threaten ’em?” squawked Ma Toomes. “How dare you? A poor soul like me what never threatened a body in her life?”

  Lizzie regarded her half indignant, half despairingly. “You’re an old woman and seem to pose no real threat to anyone,” she pointed out tautly. “I can hardly go sidling up to people, cajoling and cackling at them as you do. I’d soon be clapped in irons and thrown into bedlam!”

  Ma Toomes threw up her hands angrily. “And that’s the thanks I get for trying to help you find your way, is it?” she demanded angrily. “Ingratitude! You’d best get practicing kicking them legs of yours up in the air if you think yourself too good for the likes of this.”

  Lizzie flushed. “So those are my choices in life, are they? Either tricking people out of their pennies or displaying myself to all and sundry? Well, you needn’t think I’ll take your word for it, you horrible old woman!”

  Ma Toomes’ eyes bugged out and her mouth worked indignantly for a moment, but she could not seem to find the right words. “You little ingrate,” she spat, looking Lizzie up and down with disgust. “You won’t last two minutes here! Ben must have rocks in his head to have taken up wit
h the likes of you!”

  Lizzie stared back at her through a miserable haze. She had a feeling that for once Ma Toomes was speaking nothing but the truth. She wasn’t cut out for this sort of life. How on earth was she going to survive? She pressed a finger and thumb to her brow a moment, warding off a headache as Ma Toomes yelled “Pah!”, clawed furiously at the air with her bony fingers, and span in a furious whirl of rags, flinging herself across the field and promptly abandoning her.

  Lizzie watched her sail away in some dismay. Likely she should have chosen her words more carefully, but she had been in such a wretched panic at the idea of telling fake fortunes that she had spoken too frankly and offended the old woman.

  What would she do now if old Ma went running to her husband and told him Lizzie had called her a ‘horrible old woman’? She blushed, after all, she could hardly deny the fact. There was no getting away from the fact her besetting sin was a too ready tongue.

  She had learned over the years to choke her hot words back before they sprang forth, even though she felt like it half choked her some days to do so. The shocked virtue of her aunt and uncle had eventually schooled her against impetuous speech. Why then now had the flood gates opened with a vengeance? It must have just been panic that had induced her to act so badly, Lizzie reflected guiltily. She had better get a handle on it, or she would be lost to all shame.

  She had started walking aimlessly along with the direction of the crowd. She was in no hurry to return to the dingy little wagon. In truth, she wished she could just keep walking and never go back, she thought, tears starting to her eyes. There was a sort of anonymity in the faceless crowd that appealed to her right now.

  “Excuse me, miss,” a timid voice quavered nearby. Feeling a touch on her shoulder, Lizzie wheeled about in surprise. A middle-aged woman hastily withdrew her hand. “So sorry,” she squeaked. “My employer, Miss Halperton, bade me approach you,” she said wringing her gloved hands together. “I meant no offence.”

  Belatedly, Lizzie remembered the red headscarf with the gold coins she was wearing on her head. Oh. So much for the anonymity of the crowd! “That is quite alright,” she said, drawing herself up and sticking her chin in the air. Clearly her haughty manner and excessive politeness had not been what the other woman was expecting at all. She blinked at Lizzie in confusion.

  “Oh dear,” she faltered. “Miss Halperton quite thought – that is, she imagined you might be one of the entertainers,” she twittered delicately. “Do forgive me, if we are laboring under a misapprehension.”

  Lizzie looked the woman over cautiously from her sensible tan gloves to her mousey hair. “Where is your employer?” she said after a moment’s pause.

  The companion pointed to a proud-looking woman with a prominent nose, wearing an elaborate outfit of purple silk trimmed with black. Miss Halperton was long past the first flush of youth and looked to be in her mid-forties with a commanding presence. “You are her companion?” Lizzie asked.

  The woman gave a small gasp. “Yes,” she answered in a frightened voice, and Lizzie realized she thought Lizzie was using supernatural powers of deduction, rather than simple logic.

  “She has quite a retinue,” Lizzie remarked dryly noting the two people hovering solicitously at Miss Halperton’s side. One was a rather florid looking younger man in a loud check suit. The other was a meek-faced woman dressed very severely, as though to detract from her looks rather than enhance them.

  “Yes, Miss Smith is her nurse,” answered the other with a muffled constraint that made Lizzie’s ears prick up. Clearly there was tension between the companion and her nurse. “And Mr. Abney is, well, a trusted friend of Miss Halperton’s,” the companion fluttered in embarrassed accents. “Would you – that is, my employer was wondering if you would be so kind as to give her a consultation,” she finished in a breathless rush.

  Well, thought Lizzie. This could be her own test. Sink or swim, she could see if she was up to the challenge. Inclining her head, she indicated her willingness and followed the twittering companion to where the woman stood a good way back from the crowd.

  “Good day,” Lizzie wished her coolly, not particularly caring for the slightly contemptuous smile playing about Miss Halperton’s mouth. “You wish to consult me, I understand?”

  The mustachioed young man chortled. “That’s one way of putting it, eh Becky?” he said with a familiarity that made Lizzie’s eyebrows rise. He must be a good twenty years younger than Miss Halperton, and if he was merely a friend, then there was no familial bond to account for his manner.

  Noticing Lizzie’s raised brow, Miss Halperton’s flushed faintly. “Draw aside, Harry,” she commanded. “I do not require you at present.”

  Harry Abney’s color rose with chagrin, and Lizzie saw him flash a warning glance at the nurse. Interesting, she thought as a little color entered Miss Smith’s cheeks making her look a good deal prettier. “Of course,” he answered, and caught Miss Halperton’s gloved hand, raising it fawningly to his lips. “Fair Clorinda, you will not keep me waiting overlong,” he said throatily. “You are too kind for such tricks.”

  What a dreadful mountebank, Lizzie thought contemptuously. If Miss Halperton were half as proper as she clearly thought herself, she would not allow him to act thus in public. Miss Halperton tossed her hair. “I will keep you waiting as long as it takes,” she answered coolly. “You too, Smith, away with you.”

  Miss Smith bridled, but instead of following Mr. Abney to a nearby copse of trees, she walked in the opposite direction to stand staring at the view. Methinks the lady doth protest too much, sprang into Lizzie’s mind suddenly. Something was clearly going on between the nurse and the gentleman caller for all the pretended indifference between them.

  “You can stay, Timms,” Miss Halperton said sharply when her companion started to shuffle off. “Your presence will hardly signify.”

  Miss Timms looked gratified, and Lizzie could only suppose she took it as a compliment, though in truth, her employer spoke of her rather as though she were an old spaniel than a trusted companion.

  “So,” Miss Halperton said boldly eyeing Lizzie up and down. “How does this work? I must say, you do not look Romany.”

  “I am not,” Lizzie agreed. “I never said I was.”

  Miss Halperton frowned. “I quite understood they usually were,” she said airily. “At fairgrounds.”

  Lizzie gazed back. “If you would take off your left glove,” she said at last. For it seemed to her that it was the left hand that Ma Toomes had favored. The other woman held out her arm toward Miss Timms who made haste to unbutton the row of jet-black buttons and remove the expensive looking glove.

  “You shall not pay me now,” Lizzie said slowly, as the thought occurred to her. “But only at the conclusion. And then you will simply render what you think my services are worth, nothing more, nothing less.” That way, she thought, she need not feel bad about her subpar fortune-telling.

  “I see,” responded Miss Halperton blankly. “How very droll.”

  She had rather large hands, Lizzie thought staring down at the square palm and strong looking fingers. “You are a capable woman, Miss Halperton,” Lizzie said musingly. “But you have grown complacent about your abilities and need to show more care who you permit into your inner circle.” Lizzie saw the woman stiffen and realized she needed to throw in a bit more mysticism to soften her words. “Danger lurks,” she added vaguely. After all, she told herself, there was always danger when a woman was rich. Sharks circled close under such circumstances. “It grows ever closer by the day.”

  “Danger?” Miss Halperton echoed shrilly. “From whom?”

  Lizzie thought again of the look that had flashed between the bluff suitor and the colorless nurse. “From those who would deceive you. Two are very close to you,” she said in a low voice. “Deceivers both.”

  Miss Timms gave a small cry of alarm but was ignored by her employer who was gazing at Lizzie intently now. “You see who they are?”r />
  Lizzie shook her head. “All I see are two masks dangling from their strings,” she said feeling inspired. “One is that of modesty and the other…”

  “Yes?” Miss Halperton demanded.

  “The lover. Both are false.”

  Miss Halperton gasped. “I don’t know who you can mean!” she lied, hot color rushing to her cheeks. “There is no one like that in my acquaintance! No one at all!”

  “You must protect yourself,” Lizzie told her levelly. “This is a warning only.” She shrugged. “You are under no obligation to heed it.”

  Miss Halperton glared at her angrily, snatching back her hand and rubbing at her palm as though to wipe away something written there. “This is all nonsense!” she scoffed. “I won’t pay you a penny!”

  Lizzie shrugged. “I told you I would accept only what you saw fit to give. If that is the case, then, farewell,” she nodded and started to turn away.

  “No, wait!” Miss Halperton blurted, her bosom heaving. “Papa always said payment must be made for services rendered.” She turned imperiously to her companion. “Timms, take out my purse.” She thrust her reticule at her companion, who hastily began untying the strings. “You say you will accept however much I think your consultation is worth, is that not so?”

  Lizzie nodded, drawing her hood up and over her head. She was starting to feel a little conspicuous in the red headscarf. She certainly did not wish to tell anymore fortunes, she thought fervently, heartily sick of the whole charade.

  “So, that means you will not complain if I pay you a simple ha’penny?” Miss Halperton persisted triumphantly as she pulled on her black glove.

  “That is so,” Lizzie agreed. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was disappear into the crowd and find her way back to the wagon. She had, had enough of this disagreeable woman and the situation she had embroiled herself in. She glanced over her shoulder. Was it her imagination or had the noisy crowd grown closer since she had been stood here?