by Renee Duke
“As well it might!” The horrified housekeeper ushered them inside, saying it was a perfect example of what could happen when innocent little children went about with no chaperones. “Poor lambs. People expect far too much of children nowadays. But never you mind. I’m Mrs. Granger, and you may be sure that I’ll look after you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Mrs. Granger had been Clive Hollingsworth’s cook-housekeeper for fifteen years. In that time she had learned not to be overly surprised by anything he did. Even so, his odd fads and fancies did not always meet with her approval. To her mind, children were supposed to receive protection and guidance, not be made the subject of some ridiculous educational experiment. After leaving the children in a small entrance hall, she said as much to a young housemaid who had just come in from her half day out. And her comments were clearly audible.
Hetty also had some concerns. “Here, what you lot playing at?” she said softly. “You running some kind of con?”
“What do you mean?” Dane asked uneasily.
“Well, it’s obvious the nice old party in there’s never clapped eyes on you afore. And however I tries to ponder it, some of what you told her just don’t add up. Take that Clive Hollingsworth bloke, what I met, or maybe didn’t. Can’t say I’m too sure, now. How’s he connected to the one you claims is your granddad? If they’s twins, they’s close relatives, not distant, and this is the first I’ve heard of his being your godfather as well. What you said about Windsor’s off and all. Told the Barnardo folk you was visiting. Told us you lived there. Which is it? And that bit about your luggage were an outright porkie. Weren’t nobody stole no bags from us. What’s going on?”
Dane sighed. “It’s complicated, Hetty. You’ve just got to trust us. I suppose we are running a con, in a way, but it’s a con that will get you and Pip to Canada.”
“That’s as may be. But Old Rosie raised us proper. She wouldn’t want us doing anything what wasn’t on the up and up.”
“But she does want you safe,” said Paige. “This is the only way we can bring that about. And it’s all right, honestly it is. It’s not like we’re cheating someone out of money or anything. In fact, we gave the Barnardo people money. You know we did. You saw us.”
“It was money from our grandfather, who got it from Uncle Clive’s sister, Griselda,” Jack explained. “You see, some members of our family don’t approve of Uncle Clive. They think he’s balmy and not a safe person for kids to be around. That’s why Mrs. Granger didn’t know us. They’ve never let us come here. We didn’t want her to know too much about the family connection in case it got back to them. They can make things jolly unpleasant for Uncle Clive at times—especially when he supports some cause and asks for special favours, like he has for you and Pip. They say it reflects badly on them. But Uncle Clive wants to do this for you, and Granddad and Auntie Griselda want to help him. So do we, but we can’t unless we mislead people a bit.”
“Just a bit,” said Dane. “No one’s going to get hurt by it, honest.”
“You sure? I doesn’t want to be doing anything against Dr. Barnardo. He’s all right, he is. He come by the hospital while Pip were there. He hadn’t even been told about us yet, just happened to see us while he were visiting. And he come right over and called me by name. By name. Him, what sees hundreds of kids every day. He remembered us from the ragged school, and called me by name. I don’t want no part of anything what could get him in trouble.”
“It won’t,” Dane averred. “You and Pip are the ones in trouble, Hetty. Bad trouble. The Ripper’s out there. He’s looking for you. You have to get away. Far away. By whatever means possible.”
Hetty thought this over. “Yeah. Guess you’re right. It’s sort of like our lying to Old Rosie ’cos we didn’t want her fretting about us. You’s just lying to keep your family from fretting about you.”
“That’s right,” said Paige, relieved.
When Mrs. Granger returned, she took her young guests down to the kitchen to have warm milk, scrambled eggs, and toast. They were allowed to make the latter themselves, using long toasting forks similar to the one at the Ragged School Museum. From there they were taken upstairs and presented with some cut-down nightshirts the housemaid, whose name was Phoebe, had hastily stitched for them.
“They were all new, Mrs. Granger,” the girl said in a worried tone. “Whatever will Mr. Hollingsworth say?”
“He won’t say anything. Think he knows how many of this and that he has? I’ll just order more. Along with a few bits and bobs for the children. It’s his own fault for not making sure their own belongings got here safely.”
“We can pay for anything you get for us,” Paige told her. “We have money.”
“And you’ll be keeping it. Mr. Hollingsworth’s never been one to stint on the housekeeping. There’s plenty for extras.”
In the days that followed, Mrs. Granger seemed determined to give the children the tender loving care she was sure they lacked. She waited on them hand, foot, and finger, fussed over the still frail-looking Pip, and even brewed up some kind of home-made, and surprisingly effective, elixir to help Dane with his allergies.
She also took them on outings.
The first was to Hyde Park, where Pip took great delight in running around on the grass pretending to be a horse. Accompanying them was the pet goat Granddad had told them about. Grey in colour, it had sharp horns, and such a long beard that it had been named Darwin, in honour of Charles Darwin, the bushy-bearded Father of Evolution. Unlike most of Victorian society, Clive Hollingsworth had found his theories quite intriguing.
Mrs. Granger held the famous naturalist in somewhat less regard but admitted to a fondness for the bovid Darwin.
“He’s a bad-tempered brute,” she warned Dane, who had volunteered for the job of goat walker. “I get on with him well enough, but if he takes against someone, he’ll butt at every opportunity.”
“He won’t take against Dane,” Paige assured her. “Animals love him.”
As if to prove her words, Darwin sidled up to Dane and nuzzled his hand.
The sight of a large goat being led around like a dog did not, at first, attract as much attention as might have been supposed. Regular park-goers were obviously used to it.
Eyes did not really turn its way until Mrs. Granger’s party approached a crowd standing around an organ grinder. Upon spying Darwin, the grinder’s monkey broke away and raced toward the goat, waving a cup. Obviously well cared for, he had on several layers of clothes to protect him from the cold and damp. In one swift movement, he was on Darwin’s back. He then rode him back to the organ, cup outstretched.
Amused, several people threw in coins.
“Ah, so, today you have the goat, Signora Granger,” the beaming organ grinder said with a heavy Italian accent. “Darwin, he is good for business. People like to see him and my Poco together.”
“Yes, well, they are quite endearing, Eustachio. Children, this is Eustachio. He sometimes comes by the house to discuss Italian opera with your Uncle Clive. They have quite heated arguments about it.”
“No, no. No heated,” Eustachio protested. “No arguments, either. Is more, conversation. Invigorating conversation.”
In another section of the park, Eustachio’s wife Leola was selling hot chestnuts. Mrs. Granger bought some for her charges before taking them over to watch a Punch and Judy show.
“And Mum thinks cartoons are violent,” Paige murmured as Punch’s brutal attacks on the other puppets drew uproarious laughter from the audience.
The afternoon was spent playing parlour games and teaching Hetty and Pip how to dance. Mrs. Granger assumed children of Paige, Dane, and Jack’s supposed social status already knew some ballroom dance steps, which, in Paige and Dane’s case, was correct, but they had learned them from their parents, who loved all types of dancing, and were especially fond of ballroom.
Paige also went to actual dance classes, but those were for more modern forms of dance. As she twirle
d around, partnered with Dane, she wondered what a proper Victorian lady like Mrs. Granger would think of those. Jack’s footwork was less graceful than theirs, but he picked the basic movements up quickly, and declared dancing to be one form of exercise he really didn’t mind.
In the evening, the housekeeper read to them from a beautifully illustrated book of fairy tales. A typical November fog was rolling in by the time they went to bed, and was still in evidence the next morning. When it lifted, the day proved drizzly, but not sufficiently inclement for Mrs. Granger to alter her plans. She and the children set off for Regent’s Park Zoo with Jack carrying three large umbrellas and Dane a basket of sandwiches, scones, and barley water.
The world’s first scientific zoo had been popular with Londoners ever since the Zoological Society of London opened it to the public over forty years earlier. There were not as many people there that day as during the spring and summer months. Most appeared to be members of the upper and middle classes—old ladies, courting couples, businessmen entertaining clients, and smartly dressed children accompanied by nannies or indulgent aunts or uncles. Poor and working class families did not tend to visit much on weekdays, the really poor, not at all. Even a modest entrance fee was beyond their means.
“I’ve heard tell of this place,” said Hetty, staring in wonder at a giraffe. “Didn’t never think we’d get to come here.”
Aside from the occasional parrot, dancing bear, or organ grinder monkey like Poco, her experience with animals had been limited to the domestic variety. She and Pip found all the, what they called “funny-looking beasties” thoroughly enchanting.
Dane did not. He had to hide his distaste for the way in which many of the zoo’s inhabitants were housed and displayed. Believed to be incapable of adapting to the English climate, tropical animals like giraffes were kept indoors, away from fresh air. Less exotic ones, such as bears, were encouraged to climb poles, or perform other tricks for treats. Even being able to gaze upon creatures which had by his day become extinct did not make him feel any better.
“Not now, Dane,” Paige whispered, when she thought he was about to say something. “Change takes time—and you know it did change, so just act like a good little Victorian boy and accept that, right now, this is the way it is.”
An early afternoon downpour forced them to huddle under a tree and consume the contents of their food basket. By then Hetty appeared to be losing enthusiasm for the zoo. Usually a proponent of eating wherever, and whenever, food was to be had, she merely nibbled at a sandwich.
Paige saw her looking around uneasily. “What’s wrong?” she asked her.
“Dunno. Something don’t feel right. Like we was being watched, or summut.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” said Jack. The fact he had left a jam scone practically untouched attested to the depth of his perturbation.
Paige scanned the people around them. The rain had caused some visitors to leave the park. Those who remained seemed ordinary enough. But wait. Was it her imagination, or had a tall man in a frock coat deliberately shielded his face with his umbrella as he looked toward her? And what about that rough-looking guy who’d glared back at her with far more severity than her own casual glance warranted? Was he just a pickpocket about to make a move, or something else? Like a madman bent on finding, and eliminating, two small witnesses. Caught up in the pleasure of being spoiled by Mrs. Granger, she realized they had almost forgotten the danger Hetty and Pip were in.
Mrs. Granger put the group’s sudden solemnity down to the weather. “I’m afraid it’s going to be too wet to go on with the zoo. But never mind. As soon as you finish eating, I’ll take you to Madame Tussaud’s. You’ll like seeing her waxwork figures. Only the regular ones of course. We won’t be going into that awful Chamber of Horrors. That’s not at all suitable for children.”
“So we’ve been told,” said Jack, sharing a knowing look with his cousins.
The feeling of being watched had gone by the time they got to Madame Tussaud’s. Due to the rain, the museum had become quite busy. Returning home, Mrs. Granger learned a stomach upset had kept Phoebe from taking Darwin to Hyde Park during breaks in the weather.
“Oh, dear. He does so like his walk,” said Mrs. Granger. “It’s not too bad out now, but I have to get tea ready.”
“We could take him,” Dane offered. “I know you don’t like us to go about on our own, but we’re used to it, and it’s only to the park. I’d hate for Darwin to be disappointed over not getting out today.”
Mrs. Granger was more concerned about the foul mood the animal was likely to be in. “Well, all right,” she said reluctantly. “But Pip must stay here with me. He’s walked enough for one day.”
She beamed down at the little boy. She liked all the children, but he was clearly her favourite.
“He’s used to walking,” said Paige, who was sure he could easily out walk her.
“Perhaps, but I’m sure he’d rather help me get the tea, wouldn’t you, Pip?”
Pip nodded. He liked Mrs. Granger, too.
That settled, the others went to fetch Darwin. Far from being disgruntled, the goat bleated a greeting and trotted along quite docilely.
Then, as they approached the park, a small figure came dashing toward them.
It was Poco. A highly agitated Poco, who was clearly not just after a ride on his friend’s back. The monkey danced around, shrieking and chattering, until Dane tossed Darwin’s leash to Jack and picked the frenzied simian up.
“What’s wrong, Poco?” he said, stroking him. “Where’s Eustachio?”
In answer, Poco leapt out of his arms and ran back into the park. Darwin emitted a loud bleat and sprang after him, jerking the leash out of Jack’s hand.
Dane made a grab for it, but missed.
“Darwin, no. Come back.”
The goat paid no attention. He ran toward the park with Dane hot on his heels.
Dane was a fast runner and neither he nor the animals were in sight by the time Jack and the girls panted up to the gates. They were, however, well in hearing. Beyond some trees, Dane was yelling, a man was cursing, Poco was screeching, and Darwin was bellowing with rage.
“Come on,” Paige shouted.
She led the way to the spot where a well-dressed man with a moustache was trying to fend Darwin off with a walking stick.
It rarely connected, mostly because Dane kept grabbing his arm to prevent it.
Poco wasn’t idle either. Clinging to the man’s head with one hand, he used the other to yank on his hair. Then, suddenly, the monkey changed tactics. In one leap, he was down on the man’s wrist, sinking his teeth into his hand. With a cry of pain, the man dropped the stick and flung his arm out wildly, throwing Dane to the ground. Before he could do anything else, Darwin butted him in the stomach, causing him to double over before falling over. Once he was down, Darwin proceeded to charge him again and again, knocking him flat each time he tried to stand. Poco helped by jumping on and off their adversary, pummelling him with tiny fists and inflicting bites whenever possible.
“Oi! Quit that, you brutes,” bellowed a policeman. He, along with several other people, had come running to see what all the commotion was about. Seizing Darwin’s leash, he pulled him off the man and swung his truncheon at Poco, who dodged it.
“Don’t!” cried Dane, grabbing at the truncheon. “He’ll get away.”
Sure enough, the man scrambled to his feet, snatched up his fallen hat, and took off across the park. Desperate to escape, he bowled over two working class men who tried to stop him. He also pushed aside a fashionably dressed young woman who simply got in his way. Though she managed not to fall, her handbag and umbrella went flying.
“What’s all this, then?” the policeman demanded, quickly shortening the leash so Darwin could do little more than lunge around on his hind legs, bleating.
“It’s okay, Darwin, it’s okay,” Dane crooned, patting him. “Let me take him, constable. He knows me.”
“Hmph,” said the policeman, but handed over the goat, which immediately became calm. “Now, I say again, what’s going on here?”
“That man attacked Eustachio.”
He pointed to where a dazed Eustachio sat slumped against his organ with blood trickling from a gash in his forehead.
“Looked like it was them animals doing the attacking,” said the policeman, striding over to the organ and glaring down at Eustachio. “Set them on the gentleman, did you? Didn’t get paid what you thought you should, and decided to turn your beasts on him?”
“No, no,” Eustachio moaned. “He come up to me and is asking questions.”
“Questions? What kind of questions could he have for the likes of you?”
“About the children. He ask if I know the children who walk in the park with a goat yesterday. He want to know where they live. I no like him, so I tell him nothing.” He smiled weakly at Poco, who had crawled onto his chest and was making soft chittering noises. “Poco, he no like him either. He jump on his shoulder and bite his ear. The man hit Poco with his stick. Me, I go to help my Poco, and he hit me too. Then Poco, he run away and the man start to shake me, and again ask his questions. Next thing I know, the boy is here, the goat is here, and there is big lot of noise.” He winced as a young woman who might have been a shop girl took out a handkerchief and started dabbing at his head wound.
“He was still shaking Eustachio when I got here,” Dane said indignantly. “That’s why Poco went for him again. Darwin, too.”
“A likely story. I can tell this organ grinder’s your friend, young sir, but you’ll get yourself into trouble if you corroborate his lies.”
“They aren’t lies!”
“Course they are. Gentlemen don’t go around accosting organ grinders.”
“Why’d he run away then?” asked one of the men he’d knocked down.
A middle-aged woman reiterated this. “Why indeed, constable? And I would scarcely call him a gentleman. No gentleman would have thrust my daughter aside like that. It’s a wonder she wasn’t injured.”
