The Ragged Heiress

by Dilly Court

  ‘No, absolutely not,’ Mary said firmly. ‘That is utter folly.’

  ‘But I love him, Mary. Sam would have been told that I had drowned with the rest of the unfortunates on board the Caroline. The clerk said that he had been paid off and I can only assume he would have gone home to Salcombe.’

  Mary stopped brushing her long dark hair and she turned her head to give Lucetta a direct look. ‘You have no proof of that. He might have signed up for a voyage with another shipping company. He could be anywhere in the world by now. After all, it is almost six months since he learned of your unhappy fate.’

  Lucetta swung her legs as she perched on the edge of Mary’s bed. ‘His family must live at that address, and they’ll know where he is. I will find him, Mary.’

  ‘Then write him a letter. Send it to his home. You could have a wasted journey if you travel all that way on the off chance, and you may even learn something that will break your heart.’

  Lucetta leapt to her feet. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘He might have had a sweetheart waiting for him in Devonshire. You knew him for such a short time, and if he believed that you were lost to him, he might even have married.’

  Lucetta covered her ears with her hands. ‘No. No, I won’t believe that. Sam loved me as desperately as I loved him. He would never have betrayed me in such a way.’

  ‘He is a man, Daisy. And you were supposed to have been dead and buried. Write that letter, I beg of you. Stay here with us until you hear one way or the other.’

  ‘I know what you say makes sense, but I can’t bear to sit around doing nothing.’

  ‘Papa will be home tomorrow. Maybe he can help you trace Sam, and in any event he will be able to give you much better advice than I. Please reconsider. Wait just another day before you make any rash decisions.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lucetta said, pacing the floor. ‘I just don’t know what to do for the best.’

  ‘Write to him,’ Mary said firmly. ‘Phyllis will take the letter to the post office first thing in the morning, and in the meantime, perhaps we ought to pay a visit to your old school. The teachers there are certain to remember you, and with their testimony as proof of your identity I’m sure Papa will take up your case. Your uncle would be forced to recognise you and you would be restored to your home and your rightful inheritance. Think what your papa would have wanted for you, Lucetta.’

  ‘You’re right, I suppose.’ Lucetta sank down on the window seat, staring out onto the gaslit square. Moonlight reflected off the fallen snow, turning the railed gardens into a fairyland of sparkling whiteness.

  Mary rose from the dressing stool and came to sit by Lucetta’s side, taking her cold hand in a warm grasp. ‘The snow makes everything look clean and beautiful, doesn’t it?’

  Lucetta nodded wordlessly. Her head ached almost as much as her heart and she drew her hand away, staring down at her calloused palms. ‘Perhaps I could wait until after Christmas.’

  ‘Your hands will heal and I doubt if Sam would care anyway,’ Mary said, smiling gently. ‘Go downstairs and write that letter or you won’t get a wink of sleep tonight.’

  Lucetta threw her arms around Mary and hugged her. ‘You are so good to me. I can’t think what I have done to deserve friends like you and Giles.’

  ‘I can’t speak for my cousin, but I’ve always wanted a sister and there was something appealing about you, Daisy, even when you were so very ill in hospital. I knew then that you were a special person.’

  ‘Don’t, Mary. You’ll have me in tears if you go on like that.’

  ‘I’m not working tomorrow so we’ll take a cab to Highbury and pay a call on Miss Milton. Then we can present my father with the facts of the matter.’

  Next morning, Phyllis was sent off to the post office with the letter that had taken Lucetta half the night to compose. She had thought it would be easy to put her thoughts and emotions onto paper, but when she was faced with a blank sheet the words would not flow. The Sam Cutler she had known in Bali seemed to be worlds away from the son of a boat builder in Devon, and for the first time she was assailed by doubts. Would he remember her as fondly as she remembered him? And if they did meet again, would he love a homeless and penniless girl who could bring nothing to their marriage other than herself?

  ‘Stop worrying,’ Mary scolded as they settled themselves inside the hansom cab, having given the driver instructions to take them to Miss Milton’s Academy in Highbury. ‘Nothing will have changed if Sam really loves you.’

  Lucetta nodded, staring down at her gloved hands. ‘It’s been a long time since we were in Bali. Perhaps it was just a flirtation on his part. The clerk in the shipping office seemed to think that girls like me are abandoned all the time. He thought that I was …’ She hesitated. ‘You know what I mean, Mary.’

  ‘Then shame on him,’ Mary said, chuckling. ‘Anyone with half a brain can see that you are an innocent. Giles said as much the other day and he has plenty of experience with young ladies.’

  Lucetta stared at her in surprise. ‘Is Giles a flirt then?’

  ‘No. Well, not more than any other good-looking man of his age, but he has three younger sisters, so he is used to tears and tantrums and broken hearts. You will meet the Misses Harcourt on Christmas Day when we go to their house for dinner.’

  ‘No, really, I can’t. I mean, they don’t know me.’

  ‘Nonsense, Daisy. Giles will have told them all about you and they will be longing to hear your romantic story. They are nice girls really and they won’t bite.’

  Lucetta was not convinced. She lapsed into silence, staring out of the window at the snow-covered streets and pedestrians muffled to the eyes against the cold as they went about their daily business. Steam rose from horses’ sweating hides and their breath curled up around their heads in clouds. Crossing sweepers worked extra hard to keep the roads free from the slush mingled with horse dung and straw, and ragged urchins hung about on street corners, begging for money. Lucetta shuddered at the sight of their pathetic bare limbs turning blue with cold and their haunted eyes that seemed too large for their pinched faces. She recalled her flight from Frog Hall when she had stumbled through the snowstorm with nothing more than a thin shawl to keep her warm and dry, and she wished that she could do something to help the poor and needy. But for the grace of God and the kindness of Giles and Mary, she would be living on the streets now. She closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of a carter beating his ancient nag that had fallen to its knee between the wooden shafts of a wagon that was too heavy for it to pull. She closed her ears to the cries of a woman being beaten by a ruffian who no doubt claimed to be her legal spouse. No one went to her aid. Passers-by crossed the street so that they did not get involved.

  It was a relief when the cabby finally drew his horse to a halt outside the imposing building in Highbury Crescent where Lucetta had spent most of her childhood. As she stepped down from the cab she felt an almost overwhelming wave of sadness. The first time she had arrived here it had been in the family carriage with her father, who had accompanied her into the building to make sure that Miss Milton received his daughter cordially. He had not left until he was satisfied that the strait-laced headmistress had grasped the fact that his only child was to be treated with kindness and respect. Papa had not believed in the use of corporal punishment for young ladies, but he had been a strict disciplinarian as well as a loving parent. Lucetta’s heart was heavy with guilt as she remembered the terrible night when he had suffered a stroke after finding her in the consulate garden with Sam. Papa might be alive now if they had not made that fateful voyage on the Caroline. She jumped as Mary laid a hand on her arm.

  ‘It must be hard on you, Daisy, but I’m afraid we will perish from cold if we stand here much longer simply staring up at the building.’

  ‘Of course,’ Lucetta murmured, hurrying towards the school gate. ‘They will know me here. Of course they will.’

  ‘Are you sure this is your old school?
’ Mary asked, pointing to the signboard which nestled amongst the laurels in the garden. ‘It says Principal, Miss Martha Shannon. Didn’t you say that the headmistress was Miss Milton?’

  Lucetta frowned. ‘This is the right place. I should know; after all, I spent eight years of my life here.’

  ‘Best knock on the door, Daisy. There must be someone who will remember you.’

  Lucetta rapped on the knocker and waited, holding her breath in anticipation of seeing a familiar face. Would it be Maisie or Ada who opened the door? They had been maids at the school when she first started and had been little more than children themselves, having been selected by the redoubtable Miss Milton from the Foundling Hospital. Lucetta recalled how Maisie, who could not have been much more than twelve or thirteen at the time, had comforted her when she had cried for her mother, and had wiped her tears away on the corner of her apron. She hoped it would be Maisie who opened the door, but it was a stranger who faced them with an incurious expression on her plain face.

  ‘School’s closed for the holidays.’

  Lucetta placed her foot over the threshold as the girl seemed about to shut the door in their face. ‘I’ve come to see Miss Milton.’

  ‘She’s left.’

  ‘Then I’d like to see Miss Shannon.’

  ‘Have you got an appointment?’

  ‘No, but I used to be a pupil here.’

  Reluctantly, the girl allowed them into the vestibule. ‘What name shall I say?’

  ‘Miss Lucetta Froy.’

  ‘Wait here then, and don’t touch nothing.’ The girl scuttled off into the dim recesses of the entrance hall and her footsteps echoed eerily off the high ceilings.

  ‘It’s very quiet,’ Mary whispered. ‘Do all the girls go home for the holidays?’

  ‘Some of them used to stay, particularly if their fathers were in diplomatic service or the army and lived abroad.’

  ‘That must have been hard for them.’

  ‘It was, particularly for the younger girls. My best friend’s father was a senior government official in Delhi. Serena hardly saw her parents during her school years, but she had a grandmother living in a castle in Scotland.’ Lucetta turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it was not the maid who came towards them, but an older woman wearing a black bombazine dress with a starched white collar and cuffs.

  ‘Miss Froy?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I am Miss Shannon, the principal. How may I help you?’

  Lucetta exchanged wary glances with Mary. Miss Shannon did not look like the sort of person for whom help was a byword. She cleared her throat. ‘I was a pupil here and I wanted to see Miss Milton, but I understand that she has left.’

  ‘Quite so. Miss Milton took early retirement due to ill health.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it. Her illness must have been quite sudden. She always seemed to be the picture of health.’

  ‘Who can tell? Now if that is all, Miss Froy, I am rather busy.’

  ‘Miss Jones, then. Is she here?’

  Miss Shannon shook her head. ‘I do not know that person. She is not in my employ.’

  ‘But Miss Jones was the English teacher.’

  ‘She may have been then, but she is not here now. I’m afraid you have had a wasted journey.’

  Miss Shannon turned on her heel and began to walk away but Lucetta ran after her.

  ‘No, wait, please. It’s less than two years since I was here. There must be someone here who would remember me.’

  ‘Perhaps, although I doubt it. My teachers are all hand-picked by me, and most of Miss Milton’s staff decided they would prefer to find work elsewhere,’ Miss Shannon said, eyeing her coldly.

  ‘Can you tell me where I might find them? Miss Parkin, for instance. She took us for art and needlework. Then there was Miss Brown who taught music …’

  ‘As I said, they are no longer in my employ. Now I really must ask you to leave.’

  Lucetta was desperate. ‘Serena Daubenay was my particular friend. She was a pupil here. Could you give me her address?’

  Miss Shannon stiffened. ‘It is not my policy to give information to anyone other than close relations. Good day, Miss Froy.’ She swept off with a rustle of starched petticoats, leaving a strong scent of eau de Cologne in her wake.

  Lucetta turned to Mary who had been standing quietly by the door. ‘I don’t believe her, Mary. There is something very wrong here.’

  ‘Is it possible that your uncle could have a hand in this?’ Mary asked in a low voice. ‘Do you think he would go that far?’

  ‘I don’t know. I simply don’t know.’

  The sound of brisk footsteps made them turn their heads, but it was just the young maidservant who approached them. She opened the door with a flourish. ‘Mistress says good day to you, ladies.’

  With a last long look at the school which had been such a large part of her life, but where all knowledge of her existence seemed to have been eradicated, Lucetta stepped outside into the biting cold. She shivered as the door closed on them. ‘No one knows me, Mary. It’s as if I never existed.’

  ‘There must be a logical explanation,’ Mary said through chattering teeth. ‘The most important thing at the moment is to find a cab to take us home. Judging by those clouds, it’s going to snow again any moment now.’

  ‘Look, there’s one dropping off a fare,’ Lucetta cried, running down the stone steps and out through the gate. She waved frantically to attract the cabby’s attention. ‘He’s seen me. Come along, Mary.’

  The cab drew to a halt at the kerb. ‘Wapping High Street, please, cabby.’ Lucetta picked up her skirts and climbed inside, leaving Mary no alternative but to follow her.

  ‘I thought we were going home,’ Mary protested. ‘What is there at Wapping?’

  ‘My father’s warehouse,’ Lucetta said, closing the folding wooden doors as the cab moved forward. ‘Most of the employees have known me since I was a child. I wonder I didn’t think of it before.’

  ‘But your uncle owns the business now. If he has seen fit to put pressure on Miss Shannon, don’t you think he will have done the same thing to those who work for him?’

  ‘Perhaps, but it’s my last chance to prove my identity. Pa’s clerk, Tommy Hall, has known me all my life. He wouldn’t be afraid of Uncle Bradley. And there’s Jim Jenkins, one of the warehousemen, who was my father’s first employee. I don’t doubt his loyalty to Pa. Either or both of them will speak up for me, I’m sure of it.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Tommy Hall retired a month ago, miss.’

  Lucetta stared at the unfamiliar face behind the desk in the office of Henry Froy, Importers and Shippers, only now the name in gold above the door had been changed to Bradley Froy and Son. ‘Are you certain about that? I mean, Tommy didn’t seem that old to me.’

  ‘He was forgetting things, miss. Mislaying bills of lading and other important documents. Mr Froy had to let him go.’

  ‘Can you give me his home address then,’ Lucetta said urgently. ‘It’s very important.’

  The clerk shook his head. ‘I believe Tommy went to live with his sister in the country, but I don’t know where. I’m sorry, miss. I can’t help you.’

  Lucetta leaned over the counter. ‘Let me speak to someone else who might know where I can contact him. Pip, the office boy, knew Tommy well.’

  ‘Pip proved unsatisfactory, miss. He left about the same time as Tommy.’

  ‘Jim Jenkins then,’ Lucetta said urgently. ‘Jim has worked in the warehouse for years.’

  ‘I don’t know anyone of that name, miss.’

  Lucetta stared at him in disbelief. ‘What is your name, sir?’

  ‘Perks, miss. I’ve only been here a short time. I believe everything changed after the tragedy, but you must know all about that if you’re a friend of the family.’

  ‘Yes, I do, which is why I’m here. Is there anyone who was here in the old days when Mr Henry Froy ran the business?’


  Perks’ face lit up in a genuine smile. ‘Yes, miss. Mr Jeremiah manages the warehouse. Perhaps he could help you?’

  Lucetta opened her mouth to disagree, but Mary plucked at her sleeve. ‘I don’t think this is helping, Daisy. We’d best leave.’

  Lucetta glanced over her shoulder as a tall, broad-shouldered man entered from the warehouse.

  ‘Having trouble, Perks?’ He rolled his sleeves up, glaring at Lucetta and Mary beneath lowered brows.

  ‘I’m sure the young persons are about to vacate the premises, Ned,’ Perks said nervously. ‘There’ll be no need for brute force, will there, ladies?’

  Lucetta realised that she had little choice. This was not the time for heroics. ‘We’re going,’ she said, taking Mary by the arm.

  ‘Sorry I can’t be of help, miss,’ Perks called after them.

  The door slammed behind them and once again they were outside in the bitter cold. Large flakes of snow were tumbling around them like feathers from a burst mattress.

  ‘That proves it,’ Lucetta cried angrily. ‘Now I know that my uncle is at the back of all this. He must have sacked everyone who was loyal to my papa. I wouldn’t be surprised if he engineered the collision that dreadful night. He is a nasty, evil man and quite ruthless.’

  ‘That big fellow is watching us through the window,’ Mary said nervously. ‘We’d best start walking, Daisy. I don’t fancy meeting him in a dark alley.’

  Lucetta suppressed a shudder. ‘Me neither. If we walk towards the Thames Tunnel we might find a cab in the High Street. I hope we do because my boots are leaking and I can’t feel my feet.’