The Gilded Lily

by Deborah Swift

  ‘No, Nat, we’ll not go back to that. Funny, I was just thinking, my Jay’s had it easy. When I was his age I was fighting for the common man alongside most other young men my age. And trying to set up shop here. Do you remember?’

  ‘Those were good times. The best times. Your Bessie was still alive then.’

  ‘Aye. She was a good lass.’ They sucked on their clay pipes, savouring their memories.

  Walt withdrew one of several baize bags from the drawer and tipped out some signet rings, seals and cameos onto the desk. He bent to the task of pricing them up, pushing back the russet woollen cap that kept his balding head warm.

  Nat talked and talked. Often Nat’s words were about matters so arcane Walt could have no hope of understanding them, and they would drift past him so that later he would not be able to remember a thing Nat had said. But he liked the noise of him in the background, and Nat always seemed to be glad to be in the warm office. Walt passed the price tickets to Nat to write. His penmanship was far superior to his own, and it made the whole business companionable. Their quiet activity was broken by a loud clang from the St Stephen’s bell outside. The two men looked at each other.

  ‘I’ll go. You carry on,’ Nat said.

  A few moments later he was back with a dark-suited gentleman in tow.

  ‘Please sit down,’ Walt said.

  ‘I won’t, thank you.’ The man stood away from the chair as if it might contaminate him. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Who is in charge of the Gilded Lily Ladies’ Emporium?’

  ‘That’ll be my son. But it’s closed in the day while the Frost Fair’s on. They’ve got a stall there you see—’

  ‘You mean it’s shut now? There’s nobody there?’

  ‘All the serving girls are on the stall.’

  ‘Ever heard of two girls called Ella and Sadie Appleby?’

  Walt and Nat looked at each other, raised their eyebrows and shook their heads. ‘No,’ Walt said. ‘Can’t say I have.’

  The man blew out a long sigh. ‘I have an inventory here, of goods that were stolen from my late brother. They tell me at the inn that stolen goods are often sold forward here.’ He emphasized ‘stolen goods’ as if it pained him to say the words. ‘My name’s Ibbetson. I want you to look at your records and see if any of them have come in.’

  Walt sucked on his teeth and frowned. ‘We don’t deal in stolen goods here. Only honest transactions.’

  ‘They say you’re a pawnbroker.’

  ‘We are not averse to making a charitable loan if the person’s need is pressing.’

  ‘But you do have records of all your sales?’

  ‘Of course. It will take time. There’s a fee for this sort of thing. It’s my son who normally deals with those enquiries.’

  ‘I’ll make it worth your while if it can be done today.’

  ‘It depends. I’ll need dates and descriptions. I’ve no time today, maybe tomorrow.’

  Ibbetson looked disgruntled. ‘But I have the list here, already prepared.’ He drew out a folded paper with two long columns of spiky writing and placed it facing Walt. He flattened it out as if he would glue it to the desk.

  Walt coughed, embarrassed. ‘Nat, I haven’t got my eyeglasses. Would you?’

  Tindall picked up the list. ‘It is quite a comprehensive list.’

  ‘Do you want me to check each item?’ Walt asked.

  ‘That’s why I gave you the list,’ said Ibbetson, ignoring Tindall and prodding the paper with a well-manicured fingernail. ‘My brother was murdered, and his house turned over. I don’t know what the world’s coming to – I can’t get justice from the law, they are taking for ever. These days you just can’t rely on them. And servants are the same – if they’re not out to rob you, they’re witless, most of them.’

  ‘Shame,’ Nat said. ‘We’ll do what we can to help.’

  ‘When did it happen?’ Walt said.

  ‘October last year. Anything that’s come in since then.’

  ‘That’s a lot of work, we’ve dealt with scores of items since then. Nat, I think it would be best to fetch the right ledgers. We need Dennis here for this really, but I suppose his ma’s still bad, poor lad. Ask the prentice, would you?’

  Tindall duly went and fetched the apprentice, who lowered the pile of inventory books heavily onto the desk. They were grubby and stained and the edges of the papers were furred with use.

  Tindall began to read the first entry on Ibbetson’s list. ‘Item. One silver charger . . .’

  ‘There’s hundreds of silver chargers,’ Walt said. ‘It’ll take weeks to go through all of them. Can’t we start with something else?’

  ‘It’s very particular, inscribed with a—’

  ‘Look,’ Walt said, dreading his quiet office being taken over, ‘you’ll have to find another place to do this. Take the ledger to the plate room, and do it there.’

  Ibbetson started to demur, but the apprentice dragged the pile of books back off the table and tucked it under his arm. As he did so he dislodged the baize bag from the table and it scattered its contents onto the floor, where they spun and rattled across the flagstones.

  ‘Begging pardon, sir,’ he said, stooping to retrieve them. Ibbetson and Tindall bent to help him.

  ‘What’s that you’ve got there?’ Ibbetson said.

  Tindall looked down into his palm. ‘What, this?’ He held it up. ‘Just a seal. Quite a nice one too, well-chased, with a bevelled ruby stone.’

  ‘Let me see.’

  Tindall dropped it into his outstretched hand.

  ‘I’d know this anywhere. See, it’s got his initials on it. T.W.I. Thomas William Ibbetson. I’ve got one just the same.’ Ibbetson pulled out his own from his pocket and dangled it before them. Nat and Walt exchanged looks.

  ‘Second of February.’ Ibbetson was reading the label on the seal. He held it out before them.

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Find it in the ledger. I need the name and address of who brought it in. We’ve found one of the girl’s lodgings, but she’s not there. Maybe she’s gone to her sister’s. We need that address.’

  The apprentice let the book thump back on the table. Nat licked his forefinger and riffled through the pages. ‘Here we are. Second of February.’ His finger scrolled down the page. ‘It’s not here.’

  ‘It must be,’ Walt said.

  Ibbetson and Walt both pored over the page. ‘He’s right. It’s not there.’

  ‘It’ll be one of Jay’s then,’ the apprentice said.

  ‘What do you mean, “one of Jay’s”?’ Walt said.

  The apprentice looked suddenly scared. ‘The stuff he’s ticketed himself. When it sells, if it’s not in the big book we keep the money aside, give it him at the end of the week.’

  ‘What?’ Walt said. ‘Let me get this straight. Not everything goes in my book?’

  ‘No.’ He dropped his gaze. ‘When goods come in from Jay’s folk, they’re kept to one side.’

  ‘I see,’ said Walt. He turned to Ibbetson. ‘Beg pardon, sir. We will find record of it soon enough.’

  He turned to the lad. ‘Go ask Jay to bring me his ledgers.’

  There was a chilly silence until the boy returned. ‘Out, sir. Door’s locked.’

  ‘Then I will keep this, as it is my property.’ Ibbetson dropped the seal into his pocket.

  ‘You can’t do that,’ Walt said. ‘Someone might have sold us that seal in good faith, not knowing where it came from. Nat here will go through the list this afternoon, and when my son returns we will get to the bottom of this transaction. Best leave the seal here, until we can unravel its history.’

  ‘I’ll wager the rest of my brother’s goods have been sold already through Whitgift’s. Either that, or they are still here somewhere.’ He tapped the ledger. ‘You must have something on your records. The maids have given us the slip twice. We need to find out who brought this in – trace them that way.’ He weighed the seal in his palm again. ‘Maybe t
his will persuade the constable to take action at last. I am going straight to his house now to ask him to return with me. He will make a thorough check of your premises to see if we can recover any more of my brother’s goods. I expect you to check my list and have all the relevant records to hand when we return.’

  ‘Damned inconvenient,’ grumbled Walt. ‘We’ve got better things to do than chase after your silver.’

  Ibbetson leaned over the desk glowering. ‘Now listen to me. If those inventories are not on the desk when I come back I’ll get the place closed down whilst I turn over every last corner myself.’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir,’ Nat said in a placatory manner, seeing that Walt was glaring at the visitor with open hostility. ‘We’ll have everything ready for you.’

  They watched him stride across the yard in his shiny boots and call for his carriage. When he had gone, Walt told the apprentice to keep an eye out for Jay and to bring him straight to the office when he returned. ‘Where is he?’ grumbled Walt.

  ‘Out and about in the coffee houses or at the Frost Fair I expect,’ Tindall said.

  ‘He’s supposed to be with the clerk, doing the month’s accounts for the chambers, not jaunting about town.’

  ‘That man’ll bring the law though, so you’d better dust off your records. I’ll wager he’s a Taurus. Bull-headed, I could tell. He won’t give up until he’s found every last button.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘And your Jay’s got a bit of explaining to do too. It doesn’t sound right to me – him making deals behind your back. You should know what goes on in your own yard, Walt.’

  ‘It’s just a bit of a misunderstanding. We’ll sort it out.’

  ‘Let’s hope so. I worry about his friends, Walt.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Walt didn’t mean to snap, but found himself always on the defensive where Jay was concerned.

  ‘He’s mixing with some real penny stinkards, not the sort of company I’d want to turn my back on. Maybe he should be settling down, finding a nice maid, someone who’ll be useful in the business. And I don’t like to say it, but he should be more of a help to you, if you ask me.’

  ‘He’s just young. Time enough for him to settle down.’

  Tindall sighed. ‘Give me that list then and we’ll make a start. Perhaps if we can find it all, Ibbetson and the law will get off your back.’

  They combed the place for the items on the list. It was difficult on two counts – first because Ibbetson’s handwriting was sprawling and hard to read, and secondly because there was just so much stuff cluttering the yard. And though it was all supposed to be sorted into categories, somehow it never was, and although the top layer looked ordered, beneath was such a muddle that Walt became quite tetchy, demanding to know who was responsible.

  By noon they had found several items matching the list, but could not actually be sure that these were the ones Ibbetson was after. There was still no sign of Jay.

  He called the apprentice over. ‘Do you know where he is?’ Walt said.

  ‘Lord Allsop’s carriage came for him, with Wycliffe and Sedley. Frost Fair, sir, meeting some other gentlemen at the Pelican on the Ice.’

  Tindall raised his eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘All right, Nat. I’ll have words with him, when I see him,’ Walt said, and went out, slamming the door. They watched his bent shape go in through the door of the warehouse.

  ‘That son’ll be the death of him,’ Tindall said. ‘Is that today’s broadsheet?’

  ‘Yep.’ The lad passed it over. ‘I’m a-taking that home. Man at the end of our alley can read. Ragman says there’s been another body found. A woman. Same as the last, throttled she was and dumped in the Thames.’

  Tindall took hold of the paper and scanned the words. He sat down at the desk and read it again.

  The prentice carried on talking. ‘That’s seven all told. Whores mostly, but there were two that were just young girls, fourteen year old. They say one was a milliner’s prentice and one a pel-terer’s girl. Hey, tell us what it says about them, mister?’

  But Tindall was not listening, he was reading the description. Red hair, it said. And the girl he had seen getting into Whitgift’s wagon had red hair.

  Chapter 41

  Sadie and Ella sat together on the same side of the wagon, holding hands. The boxwagon Jay had sent had no windows, just two bench seats either side. It was empty but for a few sacks and blankets. At the front was a small barred window through which Sadie could see the back of the man who drove the horses.

  Sadie glanced at Ella. Her eyes were dark pools in her white face; there were smears around her eyes where the paint had run from crying; she looked frightened and it wrung Sadie’s heart. But Ella turned to her then and gave her a thin smile. It was a sudden light, like the way that landscape changes under the play of sunshine. It can change the world in an instant.

  Sadie smiled back.

  ‘Sing for me, Sadie.’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘I thought it would be nice to hear something beautiful.’

  ‘What shall I sing?’

  ‘Anything. Nothing sad though.’

  Sadie thought. Most songs she knew were sad. There was a beauty in sadness, when you put it to song. A yearning of the heart.

  ‘Go on,’ said Ella.

  ‘All right.’ Sadie began to hum a tune very softly. It wavered slightly with the jolting of the carriage, but the rhythm of the horses’ hooves barely disturbed her own internal rhythm. She did not sing the words though they both knew them.

  The oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree,

  They all grow sweeter in the North Country.

  Sadie hummed as she always did, with her head cocked slightly and her eyes closed, the better to hear the tune. When she had finished she opened her eyes to see Ella wipe her face with her cuff.

  Foxy’s head appeared at the grille. He was scowling. ‘Oy!’ he said.

  ‘Let her be,’ she heard Lutch say, ‘there’s no harm in it.’

  But the tune was finished and it was for Ella; she did not want to sing for these men. She clasped Ella round the waist and hugged her hard.

  The wagon jolted to a halt. Her own fear was reflected in Ella’s eyes.

  ‘When we get inside, act meek,’ said Ella. ‘Whatever you do, don’t fight. He might not want us if we’re quiet.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sadie asked.

  ‘He wants us to fight. Promise me you won’t fight.’

  Sadie nodded.

  ‘Is Jay to meet us at Allsop’s?’ she heard Lutch say.

  ‘Went on ahead on his horse,’ the other man said. ‘He must be here – that’s his big roan tied up over there. He said to bring them both in here. Wolfenden’s set it up. Jay reckons he can do a deal for the pair of them.’

  ‘Is it a cane job?’

  ‘Dunno. Perhaps. There’s a price on their heads. Reckon he’ll double-cross Wolfenden and hand them in to the law tomorrow. Make himself look like a model citizen. We’ve to be ready with the wagon when he calls us.’

  ‘How much are they worth?’

  ‘No. Don’t even think about it. Not worth the risk. He’d have us behind bars if we scuppered him, an’ he can’t half hold a grudge.’ She heard footsteps move to the back of the wagon.

  ‘I don’t like Allsop.’

  ‘Who cares. Jay never asked you to marry the bugger. Go tell Allsop we’re here.’ The noise of someone unbolting the doors.

  Sadie twisted the lace of her bodice round and round her fingers. Ella took her by the shoulders. ‘If there’s a chance, then for God’s sake take it. If you can run, then go, don’t wait for me, but just run, like the wind, like you’ve never run before.’

  ‘No, Ella. Not without you.’

  Ella’s eyes burnt into hers. ‘Do it for me. And for Ma. If you get a chance, remember.’

  The wagon doors shuddered then and they were thrown open to the night. Sadie looked out. There was a row of g
rand stone houses with lanterns hung outside. Where they had drawn up the big back door stood open, and in its light she saw the silhouettes of some men waiting. She clung tight to Ella’s hand, feeling her shivering, whether from fear or cold she could not say. Outside the door Foxy’s face was pale, and she caught the flash of a knife as he silently beckoned them out.

  The men approached the carriage. One of them pushed the other from behind, but he was so drunk that he fell into the slush, guffawing with laughter.

  ‘Get up, Sedley, you fool,’ said the other man, kicking him in the ribs with his shiny boot.

  Ella made use of the diversion. ‘Now!’ she screamed, knocking the knife from Foxy’s hand and setting off at a run. Hitching up her skirts Sadie ran clumsily down the garden embankment.

  ‘Catch them, Wycliffe!’ she heard one of them shout. ‘Quick, fan out.’

  Sadie heard them and put on a further spurt of speed, looking left and right. The ground was uneven, the snow and mud frozen into ruts and furrows. A moon was reflected in the patchy cloud and she searched for somewhere to hide by its greying light, but the buildings loomed dark and forbidding and she realized with growing panic that she was in a huge courtyard. She heard the thud of footsteps behind her. She looked over her shoulder. One of them must have got up and now he was gaining on her. The flash of his white shirt caught the moonlight. He swung his arm towards her, but she twisted out of the way and headed for an iron gate glinting beneath an archway. To her right, she could see the other sprinting to cut her off before she could get to it. She thought her chest might collapse with the effort to push her legs to move faster.

  ‘Oh, what a lark!’ she heard a breathless voice behind her. She turned to see that her pursuer had stopped running and was bent double, holding onto his knees with both hands, panting with the effort of running.

  Realizing Sedley was nearly at the gate, she doubled back on herself, searching for another way out, but her pursuer saw her intent and sprang towards her. ‘Oh no, you don’t, you minx!’ he shouted and his body landed heavily on hers, knocking the wind out of her. She rolled over coughing and tried to scramble to her feet, but the others were upon them now too, blowing like horses.