And then she might rise and even partake of a little proper breakfast with Aunt Hetty and Dolly and Mr Armitage before sallying out to purchase both fabric and jewellery.
“Are you too fatigued from yesterday to go out, Mrs Churchill?” asked Mr Armitage sharply.
“Oh, not really” said Jane “You may as well know; I shall have to inform Mr Jasper Churchill through Mr Chorleigh; it would appear that there will be a posthumous child as a sibling to Frances.”
“I am hardly sure whether congratulations or commiserations are in order” said Caleb dryly. She gave him a thin smile.
“I fear that at the moment I could not engage to answer accurately as to that myself” she said. “My feelings are somewhat mixed; though I try to remind myself that a sibling for Frances would be pleasant for her. The awkwardness however of bearing a posthumous child does weigh somewhat on my mind however.”
“And the fact that there will be those who will spread unpleasant gossip” said Caleb. “You should tell your aunt; for I believe that the news that you are definitely with child so soon after your husband’s death precludes the possibility of any whisper that the happy event was concluded after he was, as you might say, out of the way.”
Jane flushed.
“Bluntly put, Mr Armitage; but your words are wise. I shall do as you suggest. Aunt Hetty will write to grandmother who will require the letter to be read by Emma and as she – grandmamma – is deaf, half of Highbury will know by the day after tomorrow,” she grimaced slightly, “and Augusta Elton will be making spiteful comments that I should get with child again so quickly like some brood mare” she added. “But at least I shall not have to listen to her snide comments dressed up as caring concern.”
“She sounds a singularly unpleasant female” said Caleb.
“She is” said Jane. “She is also a vulgarian; and her family money was made in the slave trade which I despise; why we do not, in my Grandmother’s household, even drink coffee, because it comes from the labour of slaves; and we use only maple sugar not plantation sugar, or German root sugar when it is to be had.”
“I had wondered that you never served coffee,” said Caleb, “but now I see; it had not occurred to me that it was produced by slaves.”
“I who expected a slavery of the spirit as a governess am alive to the more awful truth of enslavement of the body as well” said Jane. “And in answer to the question of whether I am fit to go out, I am as fit as I shall be until this matutinal nausea passes; and that may be several months. I will not faint to cause you embarrassment.”
“It would distress me, Mrs Churchill; but would never embarrass” said Caleb. “Though I should be relieved if you did not wear your stays too tight if you pardon my mentioning such.”
Jane blushed.
“Thank you for practical advice, Mr Armitage” she said “I shall take it.”
Shopping was always an exciting experience, at least for Jane, who so rarely had managed to shop for much more than remnants. Frank had required her to be well dressed, which was another budgetary difficulty and had required much juggling and retrimming; but she was armed with an advance from Mr Chorleigh that Mr Knightley had induced the solicitor to give her in order to purchase suitable mourning wear. To be known as too nipcheese to provide blacks for a widow would not be a good advertisement for Mr Chorleigh; and as Mr Knightley’s brother was a senior and well thought of clerk of court Mr Chorleigh knew fine well that the more fashionable barristers might be persuaded to pass him over when taking briefs which would not be disastrous but would be a dent in his firm’s income and also sufficiently embarrassing that he might even lose other custom too.
Thus Jane sallied forth with a lump sum far more than she believed necessary; but that was all to the good, for she might then save enough to actually purchase, if it became necessary, the odd piece of mourning jewellery to convince the jewellers that she was truly interested.
Oxford Street was the street for drapers’ shops; and Jane intended avoiding fashionable places such as Layton and Shears in Leicester Square, or any of the shops in Bond Street for the less modish shops where one might actually get service from one of the men who served in the shop rather than having to deal with a crush. In Oxford Street too there were haberdashers and glovers, fringe and trimming sellers and plumassiers; so that she might purchase all the trimmings and feathers necessary for hats and gowns all at once.
Dolly was in transports of delight.
“You must remember to be temperate in your expressions of joy” said Jane. “And I believe too we should call you Dorothy, since that is what Dolly derives from; it has more dignity. Dolly is too juvenile a name.”
“Me ma allus called me Dorothy” said Dolly wistfully “She said it’s what she named me and what she intended me to be called. Lawks, I’d almost forgot!”
“Then we shall respect your mother’s wishes” said Jane, thankful that her suggestion had met with so positive a reaction. Dolly was a good name for a baby, a…. well a female of Dolly’s profession; or a sheep.
Mr Knightley had a sheep called Dolly, a prize beast which produced healthy twin lambs year after year and had a tendency to wander and get into trouble. Perhaps there was something in a name.
It was not so cold as it had been the year before, the year without a summer; but Jane was glad that they might purchase heavy fabrics for mourning. Bombazine was always serviceable – and might too be given to an upper servant to wear out once out of mourning – and kerseymere would be warm. Black crepe was de rigeur and might too be an overgown on a plain white muslin for its fineness which would do on hot days. Five and three quarter yards per dress length would be almost thirty shillings for the bombazine, but less for the other fabrics; really by making up the dresses herself there was so much saving over a modiste; indeed if she and Ella cut the gowns out, then Ella could take the pieces to a girl she employed for a modest sum whose sewing was fine enough so long as she did not have to design or finish a garment. Ella and Jane had made with her help on plain seaming and hemming many a garment that it pleased Frank to believe had come from a modiste on Bruton Street.
How he might imagine she could, on the allowance he gave her, pay in guineas what the gowns she wore had cost in shillings had never ceased to amaze Jane; Frank was so unobservant. And really too so utterly ignorant about money.
But Frank was not here to spoil her enjoyment of the fine fabrics; and she might dress as she pleased not worry about the latest kick of fashion whether it suited her or not that Frank always insisted his wife should wear.
Aunt Hetty too was greatly enjoying herself, for Jane insisted she should have a new gown too; Aunt Hetty already wore sober cotton prints most of the time, or plain drab; but a pretty length of lavender crape and a deeper shade of kerseymere to put with it was something Jane was determined she would purchase to add to the plain worsted gown; and would make a pretty half mourning gown so that Aunt Hetty might proclaim some familial association but not so much as wearing black, and then she might be stylish too. Aunt Hetty had taught Jane to sew and to keep house and to make a shilling go further; and she deserved pretty things. And lavender might be acceptable as half mourning but it was also a pretty colour to wear at other times too if worn with white gloves not grey. And with kerseymere at quite seven shillings a yard it would be a sinful waste not to use it again after Frank’s funeral when Miss Bates would no longer really need mourning.
The cost of bombazine – a dress length was ten guineas – could not be helped; and Jane would be in mourning long enough to make it worth it.
Gloves they needed too; grey for Aunt Hetty – who had really had no need to go into full mourning at all – and black for her and for Dorothy, in which fashion she must get into the habit of thinking of the girl; and black gloves too for all the servants too to attend church in, and an extra pair for Fowler to answer the door. And Frances should wear only half mourning too; black for a baby was too impractical to readily launder. Some more of th
e deep lavender kerseymere and otherwise white cotton would be quite sufficient. Black ribbon trims on white lawn was sufficient.
It was not as though Frances actually knew her father to miss him; she had so far had more contact with Mr Armitage.
Armed with Jane’s purchases, Ella and Dorothy were to be sent home in a hack, while Jane, Aunt Hetty and Mr Armitage went on to seek jewellers. However, there was a delay while Mr Armitage went in search of a Hackney carriage; and Dorothy was hailed by a girl clinging to the arm of a dissipated looking gentleman. His clothing was that of a gentleman but it sat decidedly awry, and his heavily veined nose spoke of too much fondness for too much liquor. He wore a moustache which may have been intended to give him a military air but somehow gave the impression of having grown with the same haphazard carelessness that he appeared to have put on his clothes.
“’Ere, Dolly, waddya doin’ dressed as a swell mort?” demanded the girl, pretty enough in a rather coarse way, her face over-rouged and her lips redder than could be achieved without artifice; her white and coquelicot striped gown was a masterpiece in its way in managing to both display and yet somehow not lose from its tenuous control her aggressive bosoms.
Dolly looked to Jane for guidance.
“Would you call her friend?” asked Jane almost inaudible, her lips scarcely moving.
“Nah” said Dorothy “Specially not dressed like a ruddy barber’s pole!”
“Then I would suggest cutting her” said Jane “And leave this to me.”
Jane looked the female up and down.
“Excuse me sir,” she said to the girl’s escort, “but apparently your…..chere amie……has poor eyesight. I believe that it is possible to purchase spectacles that might be more suitable adornments for her features than her makeup. I pray you take her away.”
“Sorry ma’am” he said, fiddling with his collar in embarrassment.
The man might look dissipated but he was still a gentleman and recognised a lady when he saw – and heard – one. He raised his hat and hustled his companion away, remonstrating with her.
“But I tell yer, strite up guvnor, I reckernised ‘er; she landed a live one wot work fer… someone I knows” said the shrill voice of the youthful hetera, doubtless of the community who haunted Covent Garden; and who had, reflected Jane who knew some at least Greek legends, more in common with the Eriynes than with the Graces.
“Clementina is a prigger of purses” said Dorothy. “She steals” she added to translate for Jane’s confused expression. “Give uvver girls a bad name her sort.”
“She sounds like the sort of girl you would do well not to know” said Jane. “A friend of course one must be civil to, and be prepared to be pleasant towards.”
Dorothy stored that snippet away. Being a lady was not then a case of pretending not to know the people one knew before.
“So you treats people like what they’ve treated you?” she asked.
Jane considered.
“Anyone who is ladylike will speak in a pleasant tone and be prepared to be polite to all. If they have been unpleasant or rude, there are ways to be rude back politely without raising voice or using unpleasant words. But it is important to remember those who have done kindnesses and repay kindness with kindness. It is a trifle ill-bred to repay unkindness in the same coin; it is more dignified to ignore it. Unless by acting you may stop them hurting others.”
Dorothy digested; and as the hack arrived with Mr Armitage nodded.
“So them wot took me in I gives ‘ouse room too if they’re on their uppers; and them wot laughed at me fer bein’ new on the game I mince past wiv me nose in the air and they chew on their own liver” she said.
Jane stiffled a sigh.
“That is more or less the way it works” she said.
It was close enough; and the girl had the instincts to repay kindness with kindness. And the desire to make disparagers chew on their own livers – colourful phrase – was one she knew very well and it generally was associated with Mrs Augusta Elton.
And she was eager to share with Mr Armitage that this girl Clementina had said that Dorothy’s lover had worked for someone the light fingered Paphian knew.
Caleb listened with interest.
“It ties in very well with the idea of a whole gang of jewel thieves” he said. “From the casual diver – pickpocket – like this Clementina – to ken crackers and jumpers – that is to say, house breakers and those who climb in windows, all bringing their goods to a clever fence who has employed your late husband to sort out provenance as you suggested. Peevy cove that fence. Clever fellow I should say.”
“I am starting, I fancy, to make some shrewd guesses as to some of the terms” said Jane. “It may be that by the time you have uncovered the whole of this startling business you may not even need to translate any more.”
“I hope we might find out the whole before you become fluent in cant, Mrs Churchill” said Caleb. “I wonder if it is worth bothering to find this Clementina and see if she will talk? Better perhaps to leave her be – a diver is never high up on the pecking order, she is unlikely to know much and the risk of revealing out hand by arresting her is too great for the possible returns.”
“I bow to your superior knowledge, Mr Armitage” said Jane.
“A matter of experience” said Caleb with a deprecating shrug.
Chapter 14
Pim Van Diemen was a pink, smooth man whose white satin waistcoat was inevitably as shiny as his face; he smiled with as much display of ivory as Jane’s pianoforte and had a patronising manner of speaking to a new young widow that irritated Jane from the first.
“Of course your dear husband would want his beautiful young wife decked out as finely as is possible within the strictures of mourning; you must look your best for his memory” he said oleaginously, rubbing his pink, smooth hands together. “Perhaps I may show you our finest black amber? Boy, fetch me out a tray!”
“Yerse Mr Van Diemen” said an apprentice more in the tones of Bermondsey than those of the Low Countries.
“He means jet Ma’am,” said Mr Armitage dryly as Jane was raising an eyebrow, “sounds better as black amber see.”
“I see” said Jane.
“Oh I have an excellent mourning brooch for your dear mother, dear Jane, carved out of bog oak” declared Miss Bates “Such a PRETTY thing in the shape of a rose and with a silver mount that has a lock of her hair plaited around it. But we have not had Mr Churchill’s body returned to us yet, so we have none of his hair.”
“Never mind, dear aunt,” said Jane, “we shall say goodbye at the funeral tomorrow; I cannot like the sensibility of the habit of keeping locks of hair. It does not suit me. I wish only to look my best for Mr Churchill always liked me to look my best and wear fine jewels.”
“Well the finest jet is certainly elegant and stylish enough for anyone” said Van Diemen as the boy came with the tray of pieces on display on oyster coloured silk that reminded Jane how much she hated oysters even when she was not feeling generally somewhat nauseous. She fought the urge to gag. Van Diemen had not noticed and beamed expansively. “Here you are, some very pretty pieces as might adorn a pretty lady.”
“I cannot think though” said Jane “that I have much business to do with one who is ambiguous in the nature of the jewels that he would display; for so ambiguous a description of jet as black amber might also lead to ambiguities of pricing; so I shall bid you farewell Mr Diemen.”
The Jeweller looked irritated but bowed over her hand as she held it out in farewell.
“I gather his method of gaining custom was not to your liking Mrs Churchill” said Caleb.
“No” said Jane “It was not. I disliked him intensely; which is no reason to consider him guilty. He made me feel as though any jewellery he had a hand in making would somehow sully me to wear.”
“Oh my dear, you are fanciful!” said Miss Bates.
“Quite possibly, Aunt Hetty; but a man who misrepresents one thing will misrepre
sent another” said Jane. “So I do not discount him, Mr Armitage.”
“He made no reaction to your name or your husband’s liking of jewellery; but a canny fellow would not” said Caleb. “You know it occurs to me that we might have someone join the mourners tomorrow to slum the ken – to look over the house – and it is worth while watching out for any who should show an interest where it might not be expected to be shown.”
“I will ask Fowler to watch too then” said Jane. “We have hired extra footmen and we are serving a cold collation prepared in advance since those who wish to get back home need more to travel on than biscuits; and we have too confections ordered from Gunter’s; so Fowler has only to make sure that the hired footmen do not run off with the silver, which is his current gloomy prediction. I am of the opinion that any who did would not be kept on the books of those ingenious people who arrange such hirelings at short notice.”
“Fowler is a pessimist,” said Caleb, “and probably wise to be so; there are suggestions that there may be those who hire out in such a manner who do so purely for the slumming of kens for thieves though they may not steal themselves.”
“Well that we may look out for” said Jane. “Where do we go next?”
“Mr Poul or Paul Vries” said Caleb.
Poul or Paul Vries was a man in his forties who looked sleek and successful. He had a workshop full of apprentices and underlings.
He appraised Jane.
“Ah, my dear lady; doubtless you have come for mourning jewellery?” he asked. The guttural tones of Holland were almost completely suppressed.
“I have come to look in any case” said Jane. “What would you recommend?”
“I have some pretty pieces in jet; some call it Black Amber, for it may exhibit some of the same odd properties of lifting hair or small pieces of paper if rubbed as amber may do” said the Jeweller. “Some prefer stained horn or bog oak for economy; I can show you some ready made pieces or if you prefer to order any pieces, perhaps incorporating a loved one’s hair……”
Death of a Fop (Bow Street Consultant series Book 1) Page 9
