The Penmaker's Wife

by Steve Robinson

  ‘I should ask you the same thing,’ Effie said as she began to climb the stairs. ‘But I already know why you’re here.’

  Angelica caught her breath again. ‘You do?’

  Effie nodded. ‘I was desperate to see you after the trial, so I called at Priory House. Missus Redmond told me you said you were coming here to collect a ledger for William.’

  Angelica relaxed again. Effie did not know the true reason for her visit to the factory, only the lie she had told Missus Redmond in case she or anyone else should wonder why Angelica had gone there so late in the day.

  ‘Yes, William’s starting back on Monday,’ she said. ‘With everything that’s happened, he’s a little out of touch with the accounts.’

  ‘He’s taken over the books from Mr Moore?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid poor Alfred isn’t getting any younger,’ Angelica said. ‘I had reason to check his work recently, and I’m sorry to say that I found a number of errors in his calculations. I suggested it was time for William to look after the finances, and Alfred, although reluctant to begin with, soon saw the sense in it. He knows how good William is with numbers.’

  Effie reached the top of the stairs and threw herself at Angelica, clearly not at all interested in talking about business and finance. She kissed Angelica full on the lips before she could raise any objection, not that she wanted to. Now, as Effie drew away again, her cheeks flushed in the lamplight, it was Angelica who was laughing.

  ‘Steady, Effie!’ she said. ‘You almost knocked me down.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Effie said, panting a little. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for so long now, I couldn’t help myself. You can’t imagine how wretched I feel when I’m not with you. Do tell me when we can be together again, please. I know it’s been difficult for you lately, but I—’

  ‘Effie,’ Angelica cut in, still laughing, although it was now at Effie’s giddy desperation. ‘You must slow down and catch your breath or you’ll faint.’ She took Effie’s hand and led her into the office. ‘Come in here where we can be more comfortable.’

  Effie’s eyes lit up. ‘What, in the factory office? I didn’t necessarily mean I had to be with you right here and now, but I’m game if you are.’

  ‘Heavens, no! Not in here,’ Angelica said, aghast at the thought. ‘Look, sit down and let’s talk. I know I’ve been aloof lately, but you know how it’s been. How can I focus on us while all this is going on?’

  ‘But it’s over now,’ Effie said as she sat down, both their lamps now on the desk, lighting up the room.

  ‘Almost,’ Angelica said. ‘I still have a few things to attend to, and then we can spend as much time together as you like.’

  Effie sighed. ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I promise.’

  ‘And would you really like to spend more time with me? You’re not just saying that?’

  Angelica leaned in and kissed Effie’s lips, a far softer, more gentle kiss than the one Effie had greeted her with. ‘Did that feel genuine enough to you?’ she asked, smiling at her.

  Effie did not answer straight away. She teased her tongue over her lips, savouring the moment for as long as she could. ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling back.

  ‘Good. Then give me a few days. That’s all I need. We’ll meet for lunch on Thursday afternoon. How about that?’

  ‘And after lunch?’

  ‘A bit of shopping, and . . .’ She trailed off, teasing, knowing full well what Effie meant. ‘Do we still have our room in town?’

  Effie gave Angelica an eager nod as her face lit up with anticipation.

  ‘Thursday it is then,’ Angelica said. ‘Now come along. Let’s get out of here.’

  Angelica went to the door, but before she had crossed the threshold, Effie called to her, ‘What about the ledger for William?’

  Angelica turned back. ‘The ledger, of course,’ she said, smiling awkwardly. She hadn’t really intended to take anything away with her, but she supposed it wise to in case William heard why she had gone there and asked after it. ‘How silly of me. You see the effect you have on me? You’ve made me forget why I came here.’ She went to another of the filing cabinets, and from one of the drawers removed one of several thick, well-thumbed ledger books. ‘Here it is,’ she added, turning back to Effie.

  ‘I can’t wait for Thursday,’ Effie said, with such sincerity that it caused Angelica to reflect on just how much she was looking forward to it, too. Her time with Effie, just her and Effie, was always so relaxing and carefree. She wanted to feel that way again, but first she had other matters to attend to, matters which, if left unresolved, would make it impossible for her to ever feel relaxed or carefree again.

  Outside, she saw Effie into her carriage and bade her goodnight, and then, before Effie’s carriage had pulled away, she dismissed her own driver under the pretence of returning home to Priory House later that evening with her friend. Moments later, both carriages left in opposite directions, leaving Angelica standing in the street, her black gown and cape blending into the shadows between the lamplight.

  A few people passed her by, carriages came and went. When she saw an available hansom cab approaching, she stepped out to hail it, meaning to hire the driver’s services for the evening. She had several places to visit, none of which she wanted any of her acquaintances to know about.

  The first place Angelica had the cab driver take her was Navigation Street. Before she went about trying to employ someone to follow Jack Hardy and observe his activity, she wanted to see for herself where the man lived. When the cab was almost upon his address, she thumped on the roof to let the driver know she wanted to stop. She had imagined that Hardy lived in a tidy little terraced house, but instead she found herself looking out at the unmistakeable facade of a taxidermy shop.

  The shop was on the corner of the street at a crossroads. Above the display windows and the entrance, mounted beneath the guttering, she counted a dozen deer heads, complete with antlers. They were all in a line, one beside the other, each staring back at her with their dead eyes. She thought it quite macabre. On the step outside the entrance, completely blocking the door, she saw a young dromedary, which presumably was there to indicate that the shop was closed. Her eyes drifted up to the glow she could see at one of the windows above. She supposed it had to be Hardy’s lamplight, his accommodation rented from the taxidermist.

  Angelica immediately wondered what Hardy was up to, and she had little doubt that his activity concerned her. She would have liked to remain there, just to see if he went out that night, and to follow him if he did, but it was not worth the risk of discovery. She had to keep to her plan and find someone to do that for her. Her eyes remained fixed on the lighted window as she continued to consider how best to do that. There was only one kind of place where she could hope to hire someone for a job like this, no questions asked, and that was in one of the city’s many public houses.

  She banged on the cab roof again. ‘Deritend,’ she called to the driver, thinking it was best to start her search for such a man further afield, so there was less chance of anyone recognising her. She had known plenty of men in London who would have jumped at the chance to assist her for the right price, and she imagined Birmingham was no different.

  Deritend, however, quickly became a dead end. An hour soon passed, during which time Angelica visited several public houses, raising nothing more than curious eyebrows and unwelcoming frowns, but she had expected nothing less. Respectable women did not frequent such places, least of all by themselves. They were built by men for men, largely for the purposes of drinking and the company of prostitutes. Nevertheless, Angelica was determined to see her plan through, even though few of the landlords she spoke to had anything more to say to her than to ask her to leave.

  ‘We don’t want any trouble, miss,’ was the typical reply. ‘On your way with you.’

  Leaving Deritend behind, Angelica instructed the cab driver to take her back towards the city centre, where she hoped
for better luck. As the journey continued, she wondered what he must think of her, travelling to so many pubs by herself at night, but she had paid him well and he minded his business.

  ‘We’re in Digbeth now, miss,’ the driver called to her from his seat high up behind the carriage. ‘That’s the Anchor Inn on the corner there. Do you want me to stop?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Angelica called back, thinking that the Anchor Inn offered much the same odds of her finding the kind of man she was looking for as any other.

  The cab pulled over by a lamp post outside the pub, where two men were smoking pipes and laughing together. The laughter stopped as soon as Angelica stepped down from the carriage, and she sensed both men were staring at her as she passed them. She paid them no attention, pausing briefly to take the place in before entering. It was a small, homely-looking pub on Bradford Street, with lodgings on the two floors above. The sounds coming from inside told her it was busy, which was good. The busier it was, the more people there were, and the more people there were, the better her chances of finding someone to follow Jack Hardy for her.

  The din grew louder still as she opened the door, and this time it did not quieten down when she entered, as it had in the other pubs she’d visited that night. Here, only a handful of the quietest, ruddy-faced drinkers seemed to notice her. She stared back at them until they looked away, and she continued to take the place in. Because the pub occupied a corner location on the street, it was arranged in a narrow L-shape, with bench seating beneath the windows, before which were set a few tables and chairs. She made for the bar, which although only a few paces away, was a jostle to get to.

  ‘Be with you in a minute, dear,’ the woman behind the bar called when she saw Angelica.

  She was pulling a pint, the sleeves of her green dress rolled up to her elbows, her once-white lace bonnet and shawl stained with beer slops and tobacco smoke. At length she came over.

  ‘Staying here, are you?’ she said, as if there could be no other reason why Angelica was there.

  ‘No,’ Angelica said. ‘I should like to speak with the landlord, if you please.’

  The woman laughed. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’

  Angelica frowned. ‘It’s not?’

  ‘No dear, he died five years go. I took over from my husband, you see. If a landlady will do, then I’m all ears.’

  They had something in common, Angelica thought. ‘I have also taken over my late husband’s business,’ she said above the general hubbub. ‘One of my employees was recently dismissed, and I have reason to believe he may do something foolish in retaliation. As nothing has yet happened, I cannot very well go to the authorities, so I wonder if you know of anyone who may be trusted, for an agreeable price, of course, to follow the man and keep an eye on him for me.’

  The landlady had what Angelica considered to be a hard face, even when she was laughing, with a strong jawline and sunken cheeks, which she now sucked in, accentuating them further as she seemed to think on her answer. A moment later she rose up on her toes and began to look to her left and to her right, past Angelica into the bar, as if trying to pick someone out.

  ‘I’m sure he’s in tonight,’ she said, further screwing up her face as she tried to squint past all the other patrons.

  Her words raised Angelica’s hopes.

  ‘There!’ the landlady said a moment later. ‘See the bald fella in the corner?’

  She pointed behind Angelica, to her right. Angelica turned and tried to see who she was pointing to, but her view was blocked.

  ‘That’s Ben Lynch,’ the landlady continued. ‘He’s always looking to make a shilling. I’d pop over and have a word with him if I were you. He don’t bite.’

  ‘Anyone serving!’ came a gruff call from the other end of the bar.

  The landlady gave a tut and turned to see who it was. Then she turned back to Angelica and winked. ‘I’ll spit in his beer for his cheek,’ she said. ‘Do excuse me.’

  With that, the landlady left, mumbling words Angelica couldn’t hear over the raised voices around her. Ben Lynch, she mused as she turned around and made her way in the direction the landlady had indicated. She had only taken two steps when she felt someone’s hand on her forearm. She pulled away, and turned to see a middle-aged man with a top hat beneath his arm and a smile on his clean-shaven face, which seemed to Angelica uncommonly pale.

  ‘My humble apologies,’ the man said, bowing as he spoke, ‘but I couldn’t help overhearing your little dilemma and felt it my duty to make your acquaintance. You see, Ben Lynch isn’t the person you’re looking for.’

  ‘And I suppose you are?’ Angelica said, not yet sure what to make of the man.

  He was well dressed, in grey pinstripe trousers, a black frock coat over his emerald waistcoat, and a matching green silk at his neck. On closer inspection, however, Angelica thought his clothes had seen far better days, and the leather on his shoes, which held little shine, was crumpled and cracked in the way only age and poor maintenance could account for. He was well spoken, although Angelica suspected it was a case of imitation over breeding. It didn’t fool her. His elocution was clearly all part of the act, designed to belie his criminal-class status.

  He thrust a hand towards Angelica and smiled again. ‘I’m known as Gentleman John,’ he said, ‘and unlike that oaf, Ben Lynch, I’m very good at following people.’ He nudged her arm and raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Just don’t ask me for any references, if you know what I mean.’

  Angelica did not shake the man’s hand, gloved as her own hands were. The fewer things, or people, she touched in such places that night the better, as far as she was concerned. ‘You expect me to trust you?’

  Gentleman John gave a small laugh. ‘Only so far as you expect me to trust you. You stated why you want this ex-employee of yours followed, but we both know that’s not the real reason. If it were, you would surely conduct your business by daylight, and in a more respectable manner than this.’ He paused with a finger raised to his top lip. ‘If it were,’ he repeated, ‘then you would likely not be conducting such business at all, but would have someone else do it for you. This is therefore personal to you.’ He smiled again. ‘Things are not all as they seem between us, are they? But surely we can use that to our mutual advantage. Now, I see that Mr Lynch is just leaving.’ He waved his hand in the direction of the corner seat where a bald-headed man was getting up. ‘Shall we discuss the matter?’

  His wits were sharp. Angelica liked that about him. His persona was also well suited to the job, even if it failed to stand up to close scrutiny. He would blend in on the city streets by daylight. With the appearance of a gentleman, he would also be above suspicion of such shady activity as she would have him perform. At least, far more so than the likes of Ben Lynch, whom Angelica now saw fully for the first time as she made her way to the corner table. His clothes were stained and threadbare, and he carried a fetid odour about him which she could not fail to notice as she passed him and sat down, ignoring his lascivious leer. Yes, she thought, Gentleman John, or whatever his real name was, would do very well.

  Gentleman John set his top hat down on the table and lowered himself into the chair opposite Angelica, facing the window. ‘Now then,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t matter who you are or why you’re here – your reasons are your own. My interest lies solely with the job at hand, and how much it pays. You say you want someone followed?’

  Angelica glanced around to be sure no one could overhear her conversation this time. The room was still noisy with the sound of raised voices trying to be heard. No one was paying them any attention. Just the same, she lowered her voice as she replied, so that Gentleman John had to lean over the table to hear her.

  ‘His name is Jack Hardy. He lives above the taxidermist’s shop on Navigation Street. Do you know it?’

  ‘Madam, I know Birmingham like the back of my hand.’

  ‘Good, then starting early tomorrow morning you must wait for him to leave his accommodation
and follow him, unnoticed.’

  ‘That much goes without saying.’

  ‘I want to know where he goes,’ Angelica continued, ‘who he speaks to, and why.’

  ‘A catalogue of his day-to-day activity,’ Gentleman John said. ‘I understand.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Now, to the price.’

  ‘I believe the price to be a generous one,’ Angelica said. ‘I’ll give you four pounds for your time and trouble. Half now and half on completion of the work.’

  Gentleman John sat back in his chair and drew a thoughtful breath. ‘That could be a tidy sum indeed, depending on the duration of the work, of course. How should I know when my work is done?’

  ‘It will be done once I’m satisfied.’

  Gentleman John nodded. ‘Which is as it should be, of course. But if the work were to run into weeks, even months, four pounds might seem—’

  ‘If you’re as good as you suggest,’ Angelica cut in, ‘I anticipate that the work will last no more than a week or two.’ She fully expected that Hardy would act fast. ‘Forty shillings a week is more or less twice what any London labourer might expect to earn. Should the job finish sooner then it will be all the more to your advantage. That much, however, is to be your gamble.’

  ‘Yes, I see that,’ Gentleman John said, tapping a finger against his top lip again. ‘Four pounds, all in,’ he added, reiterating the deal. He studied Angelica in silence for several seconds, weighing things up before he smiled and said, ‘Very well. I’ll do it, however long it takes.’

  Angelica had brought no reticule with her that evening, no coin purse in which to carry her money, in case she should draw the wrong kind of attention and be robbed of it. Instead, she carried her money inside her left glove, safely in the palm of her hand. She removed it, slipping the elbow-length cuff from her forearm, and shook the coins free into her lap. Then she slid two gold sovereigns across the table to Gentleman John, whose eyes were on them from the moment he saw them. He was quick to pick them up, and he made no inspection of them – not now, at least. He was still smiling as he slipped them into his waistcoat pocket.