There was also a system of parole for those who could pay a commission of five percent upon the amount of their charge.
This meant that a prisoner could move about freely within the confines of the Fleet, which included the Belle Savage Public-House selling fine ale.
The whole manner in which the Fleet Prison was administered was already being talked about as a disgrace to London. A report had been published in 1819 after there had been an enquiry in the House of Commons.
The prison contained within its walls 109 rooms, 89 of which were cells shared between two debtors each and called Slips which were small and low and therefore accommodated only one prisoner. Giles was in one of these.
The rent for each room was one-third pence a week, payment of which was demanded quarterly, and if it was not paid the occupiers were turned out and put in the Common side, where there might be seven or eight prisoners to one cell.
Celesta of course did not know it, but there were at that time 209 people confined within the walls of the prison and yet there was no regular Physician or Surgeon in charge.
Despite the fact that one room was set aside as an Infirmary, no medicines were provided except those that could be paid for.
The three Turnkeys, who were rough, uncouth, often dishonest men, slept in the prison and yet every night there were scenes of rioting, drunkenness, and disorder.
The main reason for this was that there was no separation of women from men for they lived in the same cells.
What was more, women of what was called “bad character” were allowed into the prisons during the day and frequently stayed the night with the prisoners.
Husbands and wives slept together with other people in the cell, and one woman had a miscarriage in a crowded cell.
The behaviour of prisoners was something which had already been listened to with disgust by the House of Commons Committee.
Celesta mercifully was unaware of such horrors, but Nana had sized up the type of women she saw as they proceeded down the corridor, and the filth and dirt of the rooms, the cleaning of which was left to the prisoners.
“Master Giles can’t stay in a place such as this,” she said to Celesta.
She picked up a bucket of slops from a corner of the cell and pulling open the door asked the Turnkey where she could empty it.
“Cleaning up, are ye?” he asked. “ ’Tis a waste o’ time! Th’ drunks make more mess than any of ’em!”
Celesta heard what he said and felt for a moment as if she must faint.
How could Giles, her brother, have sunk so low that he was described by a Turnkey in a prison as a drunkard?
This was what his gay, irresponsible life in London had led him to. She knew that Nana was right when she said that it would break Sir Norman’s heart to have seen him.
It was nearly half an hour before Giles came back. He smelt of brandy and it was obvious that he had already been drinking. He set two bottles down on the table with exaggerated care in case they should upset.
“Now I want to talk to you, Celesta,” he said.
She knew that the brandy had for the moment cleared his brain and his voice sounded less slurred than when they had first arrived.
“You know that I want to help you, Giles,” Celesta answered. “But please do not drink so much of those horrible spirits. They will only make you feel worse!”
“What else is there for me to do in this ghastly place?” Giles asked.
“The most important thing,” Celesta answered, “is to think of how we can get you out of it. Tell me ... how much do you owe?”
There was a moment’s pause and then Giles said in a voice that was defiant:
“Just under two-thousand pounds!”
“Giles!” Celesta put up her hands. “How can you have spent so much?”
“That is the sum which brought me here,” he said. “The blasted tradesmen got together and dunned me! A Curse on all tradesmen!”
“And you lost the Priory ... at cards,” Celesta said in a small voice.
“Yes, damnit,” he replied, “thanks to the Earl of Meltham! God blast his eyes!”
“You’re not to swear like that in front of your sister, Master Giles,” Nana said sharply. “It’s not seemly, as you well know!”
“You stay out of this,” Giles retorted.
But it seemed to Celesta that he looked a trifle ashamed as he spoke.
“How could you ... gamble away the whole Estate?” she questioned.
“I was playing cards with Lord Crawthorne,” Giles replied, “and Meltham butted in when he was not wanted. If Crawthorne had won, as he should have done, I could have bought the place back from him quite cheaply.”
“But where would the money have come from?” Celesta asked.
There was silence and then Giles said:
“You have to help me, Celesta. You have to! There is no-one else!”
“You know I will do everything in my power,” Celesta replied, “but where can I go? Who can I ask for money?”
“You will have to see Crawthorne,” Giles said. “I have written to him several times, but I do not believe he has received my letters.”
“I received the one you wrote to me.”
“I cannot credit that Crawthorne, after all his protestations of friendship, would leave me here to rot!” There was an uncertainty in Giles’s voice which Celesta did not miss.
He poured himself some brandy from the bottle on the table into a dirty glass and swilled it down his throat. Then he said:
“Now listen to me, Celesta, you must go to Crawthorne. Tell him the condition I am in. Beg him to help me.”
“But you say he has not answered your letters?”
“He will listen to you.”
It seemed to Celesta as if Giles looked at her for the first time.
She was like a ray of sunshine against the dingy, dirty walls of the prison.
Her fair hair seemed to radiate light and her eyes were very blue beside the whiteness of her skin. “He will listen to you,”’ Giles said again positively. “Crawthorne likes pretty young women.”
There was something in the way he spoke which made Celesta say hesitatingly:
“Is ... is there ... no-one else I could ... approach ... first? S-supposing I went to the ... bank? Could I not obtain a loan?”
“And what would you offer as security?” Giles asked. “The Priory which we do not possess?”
“What about the money that ... Papa left you?” Celesta asked. “When he died the capital was bringing in quite a considerable income every year. It was what we lived on!”
“It is gone! All gone!” Giles replied.
“At gaming?” Celesta asked him in horror.
“Crawthorne pocketed most of it. He taught me how to gamble, but such experience costs money!”
“If he took that money from you,” Celesta said, “how can you expect that he will lend you anything now?”
“Because it is only fair he should give me back some of what he has had,” Giles said defiantly. “You talk to him, Celesta. Plead with him and be nice to him!”
“Nice?” Celesta questioned.
“Oh, hell!” Giles said, pouring himself out another glass of brandy, “you know what I mean. A woman can do anything with a man if he fancies her!”
“You’ve no right to ask such things of your sister!” Nana said sharply.
She had been sitting on the edge of the bed listening to the conversation taking place between Giles and Celesta at the table.
Now she rose and came towards them.
“I’m taking Miss Celesta home,” she said firmly. “I don’t believe there’s anything she can do, although it breaks my heart to say so, but London’s no place for her!”
“You shut your mouth,” Giles said roughly. “Celesta, do as I have told you. Go and see Crawthorne at his house in Charles Street. It is number six. Tell him where I am. Go down on your knees to him, but for God’s sake get me out of here!”
&nbs
p; There was an agonised note in Giles’s voice now and for the first time he no longer looked rough and debauched, but young and rather frightened.
“I will do my best,” Celesta promised, “my very best, Giles. I only hope that Lord Crawthorne will listen to me.”
“He will listen to you,” Giles said confidently.
Celesta drew in a deep breath.
“Please, Giles, tidy yourself and do not drink any more,” she pleaded. “You used to be so smart and I admired you so much. I do not like to see you like this.”
“I will look smart enough when I get out of here!” he answered, “and that is up to you, Celesta.”
“Yes, I know” she murmured almost beneath her breath.
He made no effort to say good-bye or to touch her, for which she was grateful.
She could not bear to kiss him when he was smelling so strongly of spirits and there was a dark stubble on his chin and upper lip.
The Turnkey escorted them back the way they had come, past the cells where the inmates again shouted and yelled at them, using words which fortunately Celesta did not understand
At last they passed through the outer door and found their hackney carriage waiting for them.
Only when they were inside and being driven away did Nana once again burst into tears.
“He was such a dear little boy,” she kept saying.
But Celesta knew it was not only Giles’s appearance that had upset her but the rough, uncouth way in which he had spoken, the manner in which he had sworn, and the fact that the Turnkey had referred to him as a drunkard.
There was little she could say to comfort the old woman who had adored Giles ever since his birth.
She herself was deeply shocked at Giles’s depravity and the fact that he had appeared to have lost all pride in himself.
She had the feeling that Lord Crawthorne was to blame for everything.
She could remember how enthusiastic Giles had been about him; how he had talked of his kindness, his patronage, and his guidance when he had introduced him to London.
Now that she was older, Celesta knew that the women Giles had brought to the Priory to amuse Lord Crawthorne were not the type of females that her father would have tolerated in his house.
It was wrong for her brother to have asked them into his home when she was under the same roof.
Deep in her thoughts she found little to say to Nana as they drove through the crowded streets back towards Mayfair.
When the hackney carriage came to a standstill outside No. 6 Charles Street, it brought her back to the present with a start.
They were there and she had not yet planned what she would say to Lord Crawthorne, or how she should approach him.
She glanced at Nana and saw that the old woman was more composed.
“Stay with me, Nana,” she said, “and on no account leave me alone with Lord Crawthorne.”
“I’ll do that, don’t you worry, dearie,” Nana said stoutly.
They stepped out onto the pavement. Celesta paid the driver and thanked him for having been so kind as to wait for them outside the prison.
“Oi hopes next time Oi drives you, Miss, Oi’ll be ataking you to a better address!” the driver said with a smile.
He pocketed the tip that Celesta gave him on top of his fare and she realised with concern that there was only just enough money left in the bottom of her bag to get them back to Wroxley on the Stagecoach.
It was fortunate that everything she possessed had not been in her purse but only the sovereigns that she and Nana had collected for Giles.
“We shall have to walk to The White Bear after I have seen Lord Crawthorne,” she told herself in a practical manner as they rang the bell.
The door was opened by a smart-looking servant with a disdainful air.
“Will you ask Lord Crawthorne if he will see Miss Celesta Wroxley?” Celesta asked.
The flunkey let them into the house, but obviously did not think them important enough to be shown into a Sitting-Room.
Instead he kept them standing in the Hall while he ascended to the first floor.
“His Lordship will see you, Miss,” he said a few seconds later in a tone which suggested surprise.
Followed by Nana, Celesta climbed the stairs and the flunkey opened the door into a large, comfortable Salon.
Lord Crawthorne was seated in an arm-chair at the other end of it and for a moment he did not rise, but stayed where he was looking at Celesta.
For the first time she was looking at the man whom she had begun to believe in her heart was Giles’s “evil genius” and somehow he was exactly as she had thought he would be.
Never had she seen a more debauched face.
Lord Crawthorne was over forty and the years of loose living had taken their toll.
There were dark bags beneath his eyes and deeply etched lines on his face gave him a sardonic expression.
At the same time he was elegantly attired with a high cravat and a tightly fitting coat with a velvet collar. When he eventually rose, he was taller than Celesta had expected.
Slowly she walked towards him and she had the feeling that he was inspecting her from head to toe, missing neither the beauty of her face nor the countrified appearance of her clothes.
As she reached him he asked:
“Can you be Giles’s sister? I had no idea that he had one!”
“I am indeed Giles’s sister, My Lord,” Celesta answered, “and I have come to speak to you about him.”
“Sit down, my dear,” Lord Crawthorne said genially, indicating a chair next to his own.
As Celesta obeyed him he glanced towards the end of the room where Nana had seated herself just inside the door on a hard chair.
“I think we can talk—alone,” he said with a smile which Celesta found frightening.
“You are well aware, My Lord,” she replied, “that I should be chaperoned. My Nurse and I have come here from the Fleet Prison.”
“You have seen Giles!” Lord Crawthorne exclaimed.
“He tells me that he has written to you not once but several times. He is deeply perturbed that you have not answered his letters.”
Lord Crawthorne spread out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. On one of them there glittered a signet ring set with a huge ruby.
“Giles’s predicament is most distressing, but what can I do? I assure you, Miss Wroxley, that I am not a rich man.”
“And yet you have won quite a lot of money from my brother,” Celesta said.
“Money which we both spent most enjoyably on one entertainment or another,” Lord Crawthorne replied, “and, as I dare say Giles has told you, he still owes me quite a considerable sum of money.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred pounds!”
Celesta drew in her breath. Then she said:
“Giles is not likely to be able to pay you, My Lord, if he remains in a debtors’ prison.”
“And if he were free, do you think he would find the money to reimburse me? I doubt it!”
“But you were his friend!” Celesta cried. “You cannot leave him there! Please ... please, My Lord, think of some way in which we can obtain his release!”
She bent forward as she spoke, her eyes on Lord Crawthorne’s face, her fingers clenched together as she pleaded with him.
He looked at her and his eyes narrowed.
“You are very lovely!” he said softly, “so lovely that it surprises me Giles should have kept you hidden for so long.”
“I live in the country, My Lord,” Celesta said nervously.
“That is a situation that can easily be remedied. I think, Miss Wroxley, you should come to London.”
“I have no wish to do that,” Celesta replied.
“But I have every wish for you to do so,” Lord Crawthorne smiled. “Celesta—I hope, as Giles is such a great friend of mine, that I may call you by your Christian name—I have a feeling we should get to know each other, and what could be more of a bond b
etween us than our love for your brother?”
“If you love my brother, as you say, My Lord,” Celesta answered, “you would free him from gaol. He cannot stay there! It is a horrible, filthy place and there is nothing he can do but drink!”
“You are very eloquent,” Lord Crawthorne said, “and I think that I must listen to what you have to say about Giles. However this is neither the time nor the place for it.”
As he spoke he glanced again towards Nana sitting very upright and obviously listening to everything that was said.
Lord Crawthorne looked at Celesta and there was an expression in his eyes which made her afraid.
“I will tell you what we can do,” he said in a caressing voice. “We will dine together tonight and discuss your brother’s dilemma.”
“I have to ... return to Wroxley,” Celesta said quickly. “Nana and I have ... no-where to ... stay in London.”
“If you go to The Griffon Hotel just round the corner in Queen Street,” Lord Crawthorne answered, “I will arrange for two comfortable rooms to be put at your disposal. You will be my guest, and at seven o’clock I will send a carriage for you. It will bring you back here for dinner and I will listen to all you have to say to me—alone!”
He accentuated the last word and as he did so he smiled. Celesta felt an impulse to recoil from him as if he were a reptile.
There was no mistaking the innuendo in his voice.
Innocent and unsophisticated though she was, she was nevertheless aware that he was trying to trap her.
He was looking at her in a manner which made her feel as if he were already reaching out his arms towards her, and when his eyes rested on her lips she felt so repelled that she wanted to run from the room in sheer terror.
“I ... I do not ... think ... I can ... d-do ... t-that,” she managed to stammer and her voice trembled as she spoke.
“It will all be arranged,” Lord Crawthorne said. “You are not to trouble your pretty head about it. My man will call you a hackney carriage which will carry you to the Hotel. He will then make arrangements in my name. I shall expect you later.”
He paused to add:
“Need I say, little Celesta, that it will be with much eagerness?”
He took her hand in his to raise it, as she thought, to his lips.
The Shadow of Sin (Bantam Series No. 19) Page 8
