by E M Jones
***
Lunch was unusually quiet. Mrs Henry’s prattling filled the void around the table as the three young women ate steadily, the sound of their cutlery on crockery punctuating Mrs Henry’s rambling tales. Lizzie winced occasionally; her jaw had been struck at some point, and chewing the pitiful chicken caused spasms of pain up to her ear. Charlie and Mary stole glances at her, a few of which she caught and returned with a timid smile.
Charlie had returned, victorious once more, from her expedition to acquire a free Sunday newspaper but had faded into quiet contemplation beside Lizzie and Mary as the lunch was served. The paper lay unread on the kitchen bench.
“And so I said, yes sir, of course. And then he started climbing the tree because I had said that I did like apples!” Mrs Henry looked to her audience for appreciation of her denouement and hunched over her potatoes after her pause was met with bland smiles. She ate a piece of potato, then, inspired, looked up again and tried a different approach. “Will you rest this afternoon, Lizzie? I think you should.”
“Thank you. Yes, I will.” Lizzie met the old woman’s cavernous eyes with appreciation.
“I’ll clear here.” Mary sat upright with her assumed responsibility.
“And I’ll see how Ted and Johnny are,” Charlie said.
Lizzie silently pursued the idea of joining her. She needed to thank Ted and Johnny. She needed to find out what had happened to Sir Glynne. She needed to speak to the police detectives. But her head was heavy, and her eyes stung and fizzed with tiredness. Charlie would tell her what was happening; she was safe for now and the detectives could wait.
“Right. To bed then, Lizzie.” Mrs Henry gestured towards the stairs, and Lizzie stood to obey her mistress. “One of us will wake you before the evening.”
Lizzie pulled herself up the stairs and fell into bed.
***
Lizzie pushed the rope from her face and sat up. She struck out again as the rope descended over her head once more.
“No!” She flailed with both arms, fighting the blanket to protect herself.
“Lizzie, it’s me.”
Lizzie focused on the comforting source of the sound and stared in relief at Charlie.
“You’re alright. It’s me.”
Lizzie fell back onto the bed. Sweat had gathered at the nape of her neck and the small of her back. She forced herself to breathe steadily.
Charlie bent over her and moved her hair across her damp face to her temple. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” She held the side of Lizzie’s head, and Lizzie leant into her palm.
“It’s alright. It wasn’t you. I was having a dream.”
“He won’t get you again, Lizzie. You’re safe now.”
Lizzie closed her eyes, unwilling to contradict her friend but also unconvinced.
“I was so scared, Charlie.”
“I know.” Charlie lay next to Lizzie and held her as she wept.
***
Lizzie became aware of a small, steady figure holding her. She opened her eyes, and Charlie beamed back at her.
“Hello.”
“Hello. You’re still here.”
“Like a bad smell. No getting rid of me.”
Lizzie smiled and ignored the spasm across her jaw.
“Would you like to go for a walk? Have you got it in you?” Charlie read the hesitation in Lizzie’s silence. “I’ll be with you, and Ted and Johnny are waiting for my message to say that you’re up and about.”
Lizzie shifted to sit up against the back of the bed. “Alright, then.”
Charlie leapt up from the bed and proffered her arm. “Right, I shall accompany you, ma’am, on your constitutional.”
Lizzie swung her legs to sit at the edge of the bed. Her injured ankles hung like pigs draining after slaughter.
“Silk stockings?” Charlie did not wait for an answer and walked to a drawer, fetching a pair of grey cotton stockings with a flourish.
“Thank you, Charlie.” Lizzie gathered the worn material and unwound it carefully over her injured flesh. Her injuries hidden, she stood and took Charlie’s arm.
“Where to?” Charlie bowed lightly with her question.
“The park?” Lizzie’s voice aired her fragility.
“The police station?”
Lizzie slumped back onto the bed and stared at her feet. Charlie glided to sit next to her and took her hand.
Lizzie raised her head slowly. “I should, shouldn’t I?”
Charlie nodded.
Lizzie breathed deeply, inhaling any energy available in the stale air.
“Are you ready?” Charlie turned towards Lizzie’s battered face.
Lizzie’s forehead contracted in thought. “Yes. He might hurt someone else. Yes.” Her voice, which had started with determination, drifted to silence. She shook her head. “My mind isn’t working very well; I can’t think of what happened very clearly. I don’t know that I’ll be any help.”
Charlie clasped Lizzie’s hand tighter. “You do need to see them, and you will help, Lizzie, because you know who the bastard is and why he’s been doing it. But if you’re not ready, we can go later. I’m coming with you.”
Lizzie smiled. “Thanks.”
She took her unengaged arm and drew gentle lines over the sore range of bumps and grazes on her temple. “I just wish I could be clear. I should have known earlier—I should have seen it in him. Some of the girls he killed, they might have lived.”
Charlie stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Lizzie, you are brilliant. You are thoughtful, and clever and kind. But not even you can stop a deranged murderer that the police can’t catch. We did better than them. It’s because you were brave enough to go back to him that we know it is him! You were nearly killed. Now, come on, there’s nothing wrong with you that a bit of fresh air won’t sort out—and good company.” Charlie held out her arm and winked. “And I can’t answer for Johnny and Ted, but I have it on questionable authority that my company is worth paying for!”
***
Mrs Henry scurried out of the parlour and walked into Charlie.
“Mrs H, what’s wrong?”
Mrs Henry looked from Charlie to Lizzie and back again. “They’re here, Charlie.” She nodded back towards the parlour door.
“Who, Mrs H?”
“For Lizzie.” Mrs Henry’s neck stretched like layers of dough being kneaded slowly. Her eyes darted between the parlour door and Lizzie.
Lizzie paused, her face translucent apart from her wounds. She gripped Charlie’s arm. Mrs Henry continued to stretch the layers of skin around her neck.
“Mrs Henry.” Charlie used her free hand to hold Mrs Henry’s arm. “Who?”
“The police detectives, Charlie.”
Lizzie’s grip on Charlie’s arm relaxed.
“Oh. Right.” Charlie looked to her pale and bruised friend. “Ready?”
Lizzie nodded, and Charlie walked her into the parlour.
37
“So that’s it? They’re not going to do anything?” Johnny, who was once more balanced on a stool like a wayward ball bearing, seemed about to explode into metal shards around the coffee house.
“Well, they said that their investigation will continue, but I didn’t get the feeling that they were going to do anything more.” Lizzie slumped in her seat after speaking.
Charlie’s face was scrunched in dissatisfaction. She leaned forward and pressed her hands against the table. “But they’re definitely gone?”
“Definitely, they said.” Lizzie nodded slowly as she spoke, and Charlie raised her open hands helplessly.
Johnny nodded his head vigorously. “I think they’re right. Ted and me, we’ve been over. After the detectives had left, we asked the servants that were still there, and they all said the same thing. That tall one had cleared everything out before dawn, all his personal stuff. He wants the dogs to follow. He’s gone abroad.”
“Did any of the servants see him?”
“No, just the fo
otman. But the carriage, the private carriage, left with Matthew and Sir Glynne’s personal luggage.”
“And the police won’t try to find him?” Charlie looked at Ted and Johnny in hope.
“I don’t think so.” Ted shook his head quietly.
Suddenly, the whole coffee house leapt into the air as Johnny’s fist landed on the table. “They have to do something! The girls! Dina. You, Lizzie.” He looked at Lizzie, his eyes dark marbles pinned into his coloured and swollen face.
Lizzie placed her hand on his. “I think that they did believe me, but they’re not going to start following the aristocracy over the ocean to accuse them of murder.”
“Well, I would find him, and I’d wring his overfed neck when I did.” Charlie punched the table, and Lizzie jumped back again.
All four stared at their cups, empty now of coffee.
Lizzie looked up. “Do you think he’ll come back?”
“No.” Ted stared in determination.
“Why not?” Lizzie looked to her friends for comfort.
“Because he could be caught. I’m not sure the police want to do anything; I’m sure he’s got friends high up who would protect him. But if he was here they would have to bring him in, too many people will know about him. And he just might be caught and sent to prison, or hang. He won’t risk that.”
“I agree with Ted.” Charlie nodded towards him.
“He’s right, Lizzie.” Johnny held Lizzie’s hand. “Men like that, they need to be the boss. He wouldn’t survive in a cell. And he definitely won’t want to swing. He’ll stay away now and build his empire somewhere else where nobody knows what he’s done.”
Lizzie squeezed Johnny’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you all.” She looked at her friends, her face crumpling with emotion.
“It was me who did it really. That devil, he won’t come back because there’s me to worry about.” Charlie raised her arms to display her strength.
“Yes, Charlie, we all have you to worry about.” Ted chuckled, and the others joined him.
***
“Sit down, girls.”
Lizzie and Charlie had arrived back to find Mary sitting like a scolded schoolgirl in front of Mrs Henry in the parlour. Lizzie and Charlie shuffled to a seat and looked to Mary for guidance.
Charlie launched into an apology. “We’ll be ready, Mrs H. We weren’t avoiding our duties—”
“You’re not to go out tonight.”
“Alright, we can get ready and send some of my messengers out—”
“No, Charlie, nobody will be coming here either.”
The three young women looked at Mrs Henry, her head and shoulder toppling over her tired chest. She sat down and exhaled. “I’m getting old, girls.” Her audience was unusually captivated. “In all my years working, and in building my name, this house of repute, I have never worried so much as I have over you three. After Dina… After Dina, I thought we could go on, that these things happen. But they shouldn’t happen. And you, Lizzie, to think what nearly happened…” The old woman breathed deeply. “I’m too old to worry so, and to know that you might be in danger so that you can make money for my business. Mine is a house of repute, and it will stay that way. I’m finished, girls. I’ll give you a week to find somewhere to live. But Mrs Henry’s house is closed for business.”
***
“So what now?” Lizzie stared from Charlie to Mary.
Charlie studied the weave of the blanket on the bed. Mary stared back at Lizzie, as if surprised that she could be expected to have an answer.
“Where will we live?” Mary’s eyes were hooded with worry.
Charlie continued to stare between her legs at the rumpled blankets as if trying to follow a strand of wool through the maze of long, stitched threads. Mary and Lizzie looked towards her, sat on the bed like peaks of a triangle looking for direction.
She raised her head slowly and smiled at the two worried young women. “We move on, we start again, we join another house.”
“Where?” Mary looked from Lizzie to Charlie.
“Anywhere we want.”
Mary studied Charlie, awaiting direction.
“Mary, you’re young and pretty—you’ll make money wherever you go. Every house needs a young innocent, and many don’t have them for long, so you’ll find somewhere. Lizzie.” Charlie gazed at Lizzie and nodded in appreciation. “Lizzie, you’ve made it. You’re probably one of the most sought-after women in London: beautiful, charming, kind, and linked to a peer of the realm. You’ve got the gossip that all of the town will want to hear. Get a bit of training from Georgie—you’ll have lords lining up to court you.” Charlie smiled at the two women across the bed. “You’re going to be fine.”
“What about you, Charlie?” Lizzie’s brow creased.
“I’m always fine. You know me. I get along with all sorts. I’ll always find a place somewhere.”
“So we go our own way?” Lizzie’s eyes searched Charlie.
“Yes. I don’t think there’ll be a house looking for three women at the same time. But we’ll all be alright. We’ll make our own way, like we always have.”
Lizzie looked down, taking up Charlie’s unravelling of the woven threads beneath them.
“Don’t worry, Lizzie. I’ll still be around. I’ll pop up with a Sunday paper and frocks that need mending exactly when you’ve forgotten all of this and are being entertained by royalty. You won’t even recognise me.”
Lizzie blushed and her brow furrowed further. “Charlie—”
The room shook with the ominous approach of a force like a tired elephant. Mrs Henry burst through the door and leant against the wall. Her chest sighed like a deflating balloon, and she held on to it to support its motion in and out.
“You girls, I’m still running around after you.” She breathed deeply again. “Lizzie, your young man, Ted, is downstairs to see you. He is waiting in the parlour.”
“Oh.” Lizzie slid onto her feet. “Right, I’m coming now. Thank you.”
“Could you please tell him that we are no longer accepting gentlemen callers?”
“Of course, Mrs Henry.”
“Right, I’m off then.” Charlie leapt from the bed and moved to pull on a pair of boots.
Mrs Henry pressed against the wall to balance as she turned and guided her bulk back downstairs. Lizzie moved towards the door, looking back questioningly at Charlie’s boots. “But, Charlie, we don’t have to go out.”
“Have to, no.” Charlie finished tying her boots and looked up. “But I have one week when I don’t have to work and I can do what I want, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m off to see Johnny.”
Charlie leapt up and led the way downstairs, Lizzie following behind at a pace more similar to Mrs Henry than Charlie.
***
“Lizzie.”
“Ted.”
He rose to greet her, took half a step towards her and stopped. Lizzie stopped as well, a foot away.
“How are you?”
“Getting better. And you? Your head seems to be healing.”
The purple line above his ear was narrower, more like a lost thread than broken flesh. “It is—I’m almost back to myself. You should rest, Lizzie.”
“I am. I will. And anyway, Mrs Henry has said no more work.”
“For how long?”
“Forever. She’s closing the house. Her house of repute is coming to an end.”
“Well.” Ted retreated into a chair and Lizzie sat opposite him. “Well. What I have to say is well-timed then. Lizzie, come and live with me.”
“Ted—”
“Lizzie, hear me out.” Ted help up a hand. “Please.”
Lizzie sat back in her chair and nodded.
“I’ve been called back. My leave is over. I’ll probably be posted in the East. I want you to come with me.” Ted held out his hand again when Lizzie sat forward as if to speak. “There are some places in the barracks for couples, for married couples. I’ll have to make a request—th
ere’s no guarantee of a place, but I have a good record and get on with my commanding officer. If we can’t get a place, I can pay for you to stay here and then we can try again when I’m next moved. I have regular leave, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Lizzie, I want you to be with me. Lizzie, will you marry me?”
Ted looked up and Lizzie met his worn and hopeful eyes. She held his gaze, as the emotion gathered and flowed from her chest up through every passage of her face. Tears gathered around her eyes, ready to pounce.
“No, Ted.”
Lizzie looked away. Silent tears started to fall onto her bruised face.
Ted kneeled by her and gently lifted her chin. “Why, Lizzie?”
Tears dripped from her chin, washing the wounds on his hand. She fought to breathe steadily and face him to speak. His worn and mournful eyes disputed her decision.
“Ted.” Lizzie wiped away her tears and sat up. “Ted. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. Since we met, you’ve been kind, gentlemanly, you speak to me as if I’m a whole person. And this week, you, and Charlie and Johnny, have saved my life.” Ted moved squarely onto his knees, reading Lizzie’s speech and movement.
“You have been so kind to me.” Lizzie took some further deep breaths, pushing tears back to their source in her chest. “Nobody has ever been as kind to me as you. And when we spend time together, you are gentle and you take care of me. I will always be grateful to you.” Lizzie looked directly at Ted, holding his gaze before shifting back in her chair. “But that isn’t enough, Ted. It isn’t enough for us to be happy. We met when you paid for me to be your companion, and you’ve paid for me again since then. That will never change. And so we aren’t the same. We wouldn’t be getting married as two people who met and developed an affection for each other; you’d have bought your bride. And people do it, but it isn’t for me. We might get a place to live with your battalion, and I could wash your clothes and darn your socks. But it would get between us: somebody would find out, and the other men would taunt you, and you would want to protect me, and suddenly you’re fighting against the men on your own side. The other women won’t want to know me. And it will come between us again and again that I was—I am—a prostitute, and you paid for me and so did others. Knowing that will always be between us. It won’t work, Ted.”
