Avon Street

by Paul Emanuelli

  Belle wondered for a moment if James was looking at his own reflection in the mirror or hers, but he turned as John Doyle came into the room dressed in full footman’s livery. Belle saw the surprise on James’ face, his confusion all too clear.

  ‘How do I look?’ John asked, grinning at James. ‘Mrs Hawker stuffed this outfit in my bag before we left, thinking I could sell it, but as it turns out she’s had her real wish and I’m wearing it.’

  ‘Why are we dressed like this?’ James asked. ‘It seems as though everyone but I am fully aware of what is going on. Could someone perhaps enlighten me?’

  ‘Sit down and I’ll tell you what we are going to do,’ Charlie replied.

  ‘I must go soon,’ Belle said, feeling not at all guilty at her enjoyment of James’ discomfort. ‘Please get the uniform back to me this evening, before it is missed, Charlie.’ He nodded his agreement and smiled. ‘You look very handsome, Mr Daunton,’ she said, enjoying her advantage. He looked taken aback by the compliment and as bemused as before.

  ‘Do you truly think me handsome?’ James asked.

  ‘But of course,’ she said. ‘You are more fetching than … ’ she hesitated and walked over to him. Leaning close she whispered in his ear … ‘than the most handsome peacock in Bristol Zoo.’

  ‘You are mocking me,’ James said, putting on a hurt expression.

  ‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ Belle replied, ‘and I’m sure you will do very well. Won’t he, gentlemen?’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  During the coach journey to the station, James tried to take it all in, as Charlie went through his plan. When they reached their destination Charlie handed over seven shillings and sixpence for three first class tickets to Bristol. They had a carriage to themselves, and during the journey Charlie tested them on the plan, time and again. It was obvious that it had been researched meticulously, but James was still nervous. Charlie gave him and John three slips of paper, each outlining the information needed for the three addresses they were to visit.

  ‘Why have you left it so late to tell us the plan?’ James asked. He resented, slightly, his lack of involvement, though in fairness he could not think of how he might have improved on the scheme.

  ‘Because if I’d told you sooner, you would have got nervous and started putting obstacles where none exist,’ Charlie replied. ‘You need to be fresh to carry this off, and you need to have your wits about you. If you’d prepared too long, you wouldn’t sound proper. It’s best this way.’

  At Temple Meads Station they took a landau up to Clifton where they alighted a hundred yards from the first address they were to visit. Charlie quickly ran through the plan one last time, reminding them of the names. They agreed their meeting point before James and John made their way to the first shop. James straightened his uniform and checked that the moustache was stuck firmly, before adjusting his aching right arm in the sling.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  The sign above the heavily barred window said ‘R. Smythe – Silversmith’, just as Charlie had said it would. A small brass bell mounted on a spring above the door tinkled in greeting as they entered. ‘Good morning, sir,’ the effusive shop owner said. ‘Please take a seat.’ James sat and John stood dutifully at his side.

  ‘Mr Smythe,’ James said, ‘I am newly returned from India, where as you may observe I sustained some injuries. My wife and I intend now to settle in Bristol, and to celebrate our new beginnings we are giving a rather select dinner party for twelve guests.’ James mentioned the name of the venue. Charlie had done his research well, the tavern was well known in Bristol for hosting a better class of dinner party in its upper room. ‘Naturally we will require the finest silver plate for our guests as they are accustomed to nothing less, and I would like to hire that silverware from your establishment.’

  Mr Smythe showed him a wide variety of centre-pieces, cutlery, carvers, serving dishes, tureens and decanters of an obviously high quality of workmanship, in the very finest silver. It was not until they began discussing dates and times and delivery arrangements that James said, as though in passing, ‘I chose your shop, Mr Smythe, not only because of the obvious quality of your wares and the fact that you come highly recommended.’ He dropped the names of some acquaintances he had in Bristol, whom he knew would impress the man. The man smiled effusively, drinking in the compliments. ‘But I had another reason for choosing you,’ he went on, ‘and you may find it rather amusing.’

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ the shopkeeper replied, with an even more exaggerated smile.

  ‘It is quite an extraordinary thing,’ James said with a broad grin which he felt pulling at the corners of his newly acquired moustache, ‘but we have the same name.’

  ‘You mean, you also are called Smythe?’

  ‘Not just Smythe, but R. Smythe. My name is Richard Smythe.’

  ‘We differ in a small way then,’ the silversmith said, ‘for I am Roger Smythe. I hesitate to suggest it, but I wonder if we are related in some way.’

  ‘Possibly, distantly,’ James replied. ‘My people are the Dorset Smythes. Perhaps you know my aunt, Lady Mildred?’

  As Charlie had predicted, the silversmith’s face took on an expression of awe. It had assumed that very same expression earlier in the week when by Charlie’s account he had entered the shop to buy a new snuff box. Charlie had suggested that he had heard the name Smythe in connection with someone of prominence in society. Mr Smythe had been only too keen to explain his very distant relationship to the Dorset Smythes.

  ‘Sadly, I have never met Lady Mildred,’ the silversmith said.

  ‘Well we must see what we can arrange,’ James said, ‘now that I am to live almost as your neighbour.’

  Mr Smythe almost fainted on the spot and whereas before his service had been attentive, he now began positively fawning. But when he began totalling the final account for the hire of the silver James noticed that the price had crept up slightly from what they had been discussing earlier. When Mr Smythe had completed his reckonings he presented the account to James, explaining that it included an element of refundable deposit.

  ‘One hundred and twenty-five pounds; that appears perfectly reasonable,’ James said, reaching towards his pocket with his left hand. ‘Damn,’ he exclaimed. ‘I have forgotten my pocketbook; it’s so damnably awkward dressing with one arm.’

  ‘I can still take your order,’ Mr Smythe said, ‘and you can return later with the money.’

  ‘No, that simply will not do,’ James fired back, ‘the arrangements must be finalised today. I will send my man home with a note,’ James said looking in John’s direction. ‘My wife can send the money here in a matter of minutes. Do you have pen and paper? You will have to write for me for I have still not mastered the art of writing with my left hand.’

  Mr Smythe produced a sheet of headed writing paper and James began dictating.

  ‘Just open with, “My dear,” then write, “Urgently need one hundred and fifty pounds. Give money to bearer. Will explain this evening.” Then just sign it “R. Smythe” and be so good as to give the note to my footman.’

  John took the note and left the shop. The two men discussed the weather for a while and the attractions of Bristol. As time passed, James remembered to appear more and more agitated. Still there was no sign of John’s return. The conversation grew increasingly uncomfortable, until after about twenty minutes James said, ‘This delay is unacceptable and I begin to fear there is something amiss. I will return home and see if I cannot find my man. If he comes here after I have gone, take the money from him, otherwise I will return later.’

  James left the shop and made his way straight to the designated meeting point. John was already there and had collected one hundred and fifty pounds from a confused Mrs Smythe. Charlie, as they had planned, had taken John to the same address to which he had followed Mr Smythe two days earlier.

  Several hours later, and James had assumed the names of Mr J. Kennet and a Mr G. Waldergrave, who were both si
lversmiths in the Clifton area. John had collected, with Charlie’s guidance, a further two hundred and eighty pounds from the homes of Mrs Kennet and Mrs Waldergrave, who had been as surprised as Mrs Smythe, but did not hesitate in complying with their husbands’ written requests. James comforted himself with the thought that when the deception was discovered, the various wives would at least have the notes written and signed by their respective husbands as proof that they had simply been following instructions.

  The three hailed a cab and were soon on a train returning to Bath.

  Chapter 24

  The moment Charlie entered the room Molly ran over to him and threw her arms around his legs. ‘This parcel’s not for you, Molly,’ he said, handing the package to Belle. If Molly was disappointed she tried not to show it.

  Charlie turned to Belle. ‘Did I not return it in good time? Am I not a man who’s good to his word?’

  ‘With over half an hour to spare,’ Belle replied, trying to hide her relief in a smile.

  ‘Mrs Hawker’s run a hot iron over it,’ Charlie said, with an obvious satisfaction for a job well done. Molly was still holding onto his legs and now carefully placed her tiny feet on top of his. He took hold of her hands and walked around the room taking her weight with each step on his feet. The room rang with her giggling until Charlie sat her at the table and produced a small bag of candied fruits from his pocket.

  ‘Did it go well, Charlie?’ Belle asked, as Molly began devouring the unaccustomed treat.

  ‘Better than I had hoped,’ he replied, ‘but we couldn’t have done it without your help. We know you took a risk getting hold of the uniform.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ Belle lied, the words coming automatically to her lips. ‘Did Mr Daunton carry it off well?’

  ‘Like a man who had spent years in the army,’ Charlie replied.

  ‘You should have seen him, Jenny,’ Belle said. ‘He was so handsome in the uniform.’

  ‘This is for you,’ Charlie said, handing her a small purse.

  Belle opened it and found four five pound notes and twenty sovereigns. Jenny ran to Belle’s side, as excited at the sound of the money as Molly had been at the sight of the candied fruits. ‘I’ve never seen so much money,’ Jenny exclaimed. ‘Can I hold it?’ Belle handed her the money, and watched as she threw the notes in the air and trickled the coins through her fingers, before picking them up again and smelling the money in her hands, as though it was some exotic spice she had never encountered before.

  ‘This isn’t my money, Jenny, it’s ours,’ Belle said. ‘It means you can pay off your debts and buy some materials and we’ll still have some left for the future.’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  When Charlie had gone, Belle finally let out the sigh of relief that she’d been holding back since his arrival. She put the parcelled-up officer’s costume by the door, lest she should forget it, not that she could.

  ‘You look relieved,’ Jenny said, the concern clear in the lines of her forehead.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry yourself with,’ Belle replied. ‘I was afraid that Charlie would not get the costume back to me in time for this evening.’

  ‘That money is yours, Belle,’ Jenny said. ‘There’s no call to share it with us. We’ve done nothing to help you.’

  ‘That’s not true, Jenny,’ Belle replied, ‘I owe you so much. The two of you have done more for me than you will ever know, and I don’t mean repairing my clothes. You are my family now, and a family shares its good fortune.’

  ‘You are very kind and I will not refuse your help.’

  ‘My fortunes have changed, Jenny, and not just in terms of the money. I had more good news yesterday that I haven’t told you. That’s the reason for worrying over the costume. I can’t afford for anything to go wrong in the theatre now.’ She felt the excitement building, it was too wonderful to contain, and she ran to Jenny and threw her arms around her. It was like a signal to Molly who ran across the room, laughing, and wrapped her arms around Belle’s legs. Belle turned and picked Molly up, dancing around the room with the girl in her arms.

  ‘What’s happened that’s made you so happy?’ Jenny asked.

  Belle sat Molly on a chair and pulled another two chairs across the room in a small circle. ‘Sit and I will tell you,’ she said, excitedly. ‘Sarah Macready called me to her office again yesterday. She swore me to secrecy and said that Cauldfield had been a disappointment to her and would not be invited back for the next season.’

  ‘Well, that is good news,’ Jenny said, a broad smile lighting her face.

  ‘There is even better news,’ Belle said, unable to contain her excitement. ‘Later in the season Mr Macready is coming to Bath to appear in a production of Macbeth. As the star, he will naturally take control of that production. Sarah Macready has written to him already, suggesting that I play Lady Macbeth. She received his reply yesterday, and he said that he will accept her recommendation. I am to act with Mr Macready.’

  ‘Why does she not live with her husband?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘No,’ Belle replied, laughing. ‘Mr Macready is not Mrs Macready’s husband. They just have the same name. Mr Macready is one of the best actors in the country. You must have heard of him? Just think: I am to be his leading lady. They say when Fanny Kemble acted opposite him as Lady Macbeth, she was black and blue from the passion of their scenes, and he even broke her finger.’

  ‘Well you have quite enough bruises already,’ Jenny said.

  ‘He’s not a violent man – well perhaps he is – but not intentionally, he’s just very committed to his art. They say he insists on rehearsals for every production and he doesn’t just mouth his words, he lives them.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jenny said, ‘but he sounds an odd character.’

  ‘If he is odd then I wish more actors were odd,’ Belle replied. ‘I am so looking forward to acting with him.’

  Belle took the money and opened her trunk. She laid it carefully under some clothes. ‘We must plan carefully how to use the money, and in the meantime it should be safe in here.’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  James heard steps on the stairs and opened the door of the dining room just as Charlie reached it. ‘Don’t worry; he’s here,’ Charlie blustered as he pushed his way past James. ‘I fetched him after I’d taken the costume back to Belle.’ It was obvious to James that he was not in the best of moods. Charlie went to sit at the dining table where John was sorting through the money they had brought back from Bristol.

  When Sean appeared at the top of the stairs James took him to one side. ‘How was he with you?’ he asked quietly. ‘He was very reluctant when I asked if he could call for you.’

  ‘Your man Charlie walks quickly, given the length of his legs,’ Sean replied. ‘He was after staying a few paces ahead of me all the way. I’d guess it was on the chance that someone might see him in the company of a priest. But he knows what he’s doing. If anyone had followed us, Charlie would have smelt them out.’

  James showed Sean to a seat at the table as the other two looked up. ‘I take it I shall be a man more at peace with my conscience if I don’t ask where this fortune came from,’ Sean said.

  ‘I’ll pay it back when this is over,’ James said, ‘and we hurt no one, other than in their pockets.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Charlie said. ‘We worked hard for that money and we took only from them as could afford it. There’ll be no paying back by me.’

  John smiled. ‘There’s three hundred and ninety pounds after Belle’s share, which divides up nicely into one hundred and thirty pounds each for the three of us. I ain’t ever seen so much money, let alone earned it, and we’ve cleared it in a day.’

  ‘I take it this isn’t honest money,’ Sean said. Charlie muttered something under his breath, scowling at the priest. John also looked at Sean, his expression distrustful. James could feel the tension between the men. John and Charlie sat at the table, pulling their share of the money towards them, mirroring each other�
��s actions and making it clear that no one would part them from their spoils.

  ‘Sean, I know you might not approve of where the money comes from, but I want you to get fifty pounds of my share to my brother to help with the estate, and I would like you to accept fifty pounds for your schemes. The other thirty should go to fund our campaign.’

  ‘What schemes are these?’ John asked.

  ‘There are so many,’ Sean said, ‘though most are still in my mind at present. I want to set up a Friendly Society where the poor of Avon Street can save and borrow. It’s cheaper for them to pay rent by the week, but most struggle to pay even a night’s lodgings. They survive by selling things, but few make enough in a day to buy their stock for the following day, so they borrow and then pay back a third or more on top at the end of the day, for what they have borrowed. So the following day they have to borrow again and so it goes on.’

  ‘We know all this, priest,’ Charlie interrupted.

  James looked around the table as Sean paused. Both John and Charlie were counting their money again, seemingly oblivious to Sean’s words. ‘It would be like a bank for them,’ Sean went on. ‘Then they wouldn’t need to borrow from Caine.’

  His words seemed at last to have had an impact. Charlie looked interested for the first time. James seized the opportunity. ‘This could be our first strike against Caine,’ he said. ‘We can’t confront him head on yet, but we can begin sapping his strength. Caine depends on his money lending. Take it away from him and he’s a deal weaker, and he won’t like it.’ He could see the thought taking hold in Charlie’s mind.

  ‘And what does your Pope think of you using Church funds to give back to the people?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘To be sure, they’ll not miss a few pounds from Bath in the Vatican, when our needs are so much greater than theirs. Besides I try to fund my non-Church schemes through benefactors like James rather than the collection plate.’