Jane and the Sins of Society

by Sarah Waldock

  Chapter 14

  Jane preferred to shop on Cheapside to Bond Street. Bond Street was the paradigm of fashion, but Cheapside sold a wider range of goods, including household goods, and groceries. The prices were not, despite the name of the road, cheap, but could be relied upon to be more reasonable than those of Bond Street and Mayfair, which charged higher prices purely for being exclusive. Cheapside was the commercial centre of the city, and as well as shops, housed businesses such as physicians, dentists, opticians and apothecaries. Rooming houses and apartments might be found, as well as houses owned by middle class businessmen, usually with their business on premises. Jane had furnished her town house using a paper-stainer’s business on Cheapside, rather than the expensive and exclusive firm Frank had told her to use, typically failing to give her enough money for the firm he wanted.

  He had never found out, or that her stylish gowns had been made up from fabric bought in haberdasheries here, and sewn by Jane herself, not made by a modiste as he believed. Other than the noise, Jane might have been happier to have resided on Cheapside when she and Frank had married, but she did love her tall, white house on Pembridge Square, in a relatively quiet backwater, save for the cries of the street vendors calling out to apprise servants of such essentials as sand for sale, to polish and sharpen cutlery, and various seasonal foods, and cats’ meat for those people who kept cats. Butlers might have to go and find a knife sharpener if they did not care to do it for themselves, the sound of the grinding wheel was not welcome actually in a residential square in a moderately fashionable quarter.

  That was not true of Cheapside, however, where a knife grinder was putting an edge to the long shears of a haberdasher, as Jackie stopped the carriage for Jane and Cecily to alight, the high whine making Jane shudder. The clop of hooves and the rumble of metal tires with a continuous stream of traffic in both directions was at least less painful on the ears on the beaten earth of this street than on those streets which had cobbles installed. Cheapside was too busy a street for cobbles to be laid; the traffic was so heavy that repairs would be needed almost weekly, and the disruption that would cause to business would be unacceptable. The rumble was, however, as continuous as a summer thunderstorm running up and down between two rivers. It was almost deafening, with delivery carts coming and going, hackney carriages hired to bring people to shop, the vehicles and horses of customers, residents, and passers-by. Some vehicles pulled over to complete their business, others continued on in an inexorable stream. Added to this were the shouts and cries of derision of coachmen and jarveys, with plaints about blocking the road. A Draisine bowled down the road, expertly weaving in and out of the rest of the traffic, followed by a crowd of shouting urchins. Jane recognised Mr. Grey and raised a hand in greeting, and he cautiously touched his hat to her as he sped away.

  “It’s better nor Mr. Montgomery’s,” said Cecily, eyeing the carefree urchins with a mix of envy and contempt.

  “Agreed, and your papa will have a better and safer one yet,” said Jane.

  “He ain’t no fool,” said Cecily.

  They walked along the pavement, passing from the influence of one street cry to another, from cries of ‘chestnuts, chestnuts hot, last o’ the season’ to ‘pertayters, ‘ot pertayters’, and even “primroses, early primroses’. The cries were readily drowned out by the knife-grinder’s wheel, as it progressed along the street, sharpening such things as were required as it went. Less offensive was the asthmatic wheeze of a badly maintained street organ as it struck up a popular air, promptly drowned out as the knife grinder moved too close. The organ-grinder threw his hat on the floor, and Jane was glad the wheel grinding knives was still going, since she suspected from the way his mouth was working, he was giving vent to some rather choice oaths. His dog, presumably trained to dance, after the fashion of the dogs of such, sat in his jacket and frilled ruff, howling mournfully in a discordant counterpoint to the grinding wheel. A woman with a barrow of oranges made the mistake of throwing one at the dog, and was bitten for her pains.

  “I like Cheapside, it’s always entertaining,” said Cecily.

  Jane would not necessarily have chosen that description, but she could see Cecily’s point. She steered Cecily away from the incipient bout of fisticuffs, and into the haberdasher she had favoured when living in London.

  “Why, it’s Mrs. Churchill,” said one of the assistants.

  Jane blushed.

  “I am remarried, Walter, I am Lady Armitage, now. This is my stepdaughter, and she needs a complete new wardrobe; she has grown like a weed, you know how children are when they are away at school.”

  “Indeed, Lady Armitage,” said Walter. “My congratulations, and not just on your title, but on your husband, who plainly treats you better than Mr. Churchill used to do.”

  “Dear me, did it show?” said Jane.

  “Right pinched, you used to look, my lady, counting out the pennies, and making sure to get the latest kickshaws, to please him, I always reckoned. I always wanted to plant him a facer for putting worry lines on the face of a nice lady like you, who goes to the trouble of remembering a fellow’s name.”

  “Walter, how kind of you,” said Jane. “I shall be spending more in here nowadays, and I’ll also ask you if you can recommend anyone to make up a number of round gowns for Cecily here, to save me some time.”

  “Well, my lady, my sister does sewing for ladies, if you would be willing to employ her,” said Walter.

  “Excellent,” said Jane. “We had better have some half-mourning, for the Queen, and half mourning never comes amiss, and can be easily made deeper with the addition of black trim and petticoats. Now, I wonder if your sister can make good cotton pantalettes with enough lace on the bottom to look as ridiculous as such things may, but sturdy enough and double sewn, to withstand a girl joining her brother up trees, and likewise sturdy calico morning gowns to survive the slings and arrows of outrageous playtime.”

  “I think my sister will sympathise with the little miss,” said Walter. “Sal can sew anything you ask of her. Just let me know how much of anything you want.”

  Cecily was quite carried away, looking at patterns of printed calico for morning dresses, some in half-mourning colours for the present, and some for when the period of royal mourning was over.

  “I didn’t know nobody ever had so many cloes,” she whispered to Jane as Walter carried away one bolt of cloth and went to look for another. “Are you going to send me off to school?”

  “Only if you want to go,” said Jane. “But haberdashers can be inclined to gossip, and I did not want anyone saying anything unkind about you, being short of clothes.”

  “Fanks,” said Cecily. “I reckon you’re just the kindest mort in the world.”

  “As Walter said, I’ve known what it’s like to feel embarrassed by a lack of clothes and a need to have a display of fashion garments,” said Jane.

  “Huh, this Churchill cove must of been a rum niggling little dandyprat, dicked in the costard, and deserving of an earth bath,” said Cecily.

  “Death did improve him,” agreed Jane, answering the last part of that only too accurate cant assessment of her mean natured, self-important and less than clever late husband.

  Jane and Cecily tripped out of the shop with a selection of parcels, as Jane would make some dresses up for Cecily for immediate use, with the aid of Ella, as well as having more left in the hands of Walter’s sister. She had bought some fabrics for herself as well, but left instructions that Cecily’s clothes should be made up first.

  The fight was over, but the argument was still going on, the knife grinder and the organ-grinder bloodied but unsubdued. The knife-grinder shied a stone at the organ-grinder’s dog, which was growling at him, and it leaped away, running into the road. Cecily screamed as the dog was clipped by a passing curricle, and thrown to the side of the road, where it lay still. She pulled away from Jane and ran over to the small body. The dog moved its head painfully to look at her, and Cecily picked i
t up. Jane pulled a face. The dangers of rabid dogs were not as great as they had been in the middle of the last century, and this was not a stray. She went over.

  “Let me see, old fellow,” said Jane, running her hands down the dog’s sides. It moved its head readily, looking at her, and she ran her hands down its back, and down each leg. It whined as she touched the top of its rear left leg. Jane turned to the organ-grinder. “Your dog has a broken rear leg, that is all,” she said.

  “You bastard, you’ve cost me my dog!” the man roared to the knife grinder. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to teach a dog to dance?”

  “Surely when the dog is healed, he will be able to dance again,?” asked Jane.

  “Stupid mort! It won’t never heal proper, I’ll have to kill un,” said the man. Cecily pulled at Jane’s sleeve.

  “Can I keep him?”

  “I was rather coming to that conclusion,” said Jane, softly. “Take off the jacket and ruff; they belong to this man.” She raised her voice. “You will not kill him; I will take him with me.”

  His eyes grew cunning.

  “And what will you give me for a valuable dog?” he asked.

  “You just told me he has no value and you would have to kill him,” countered Jane. “I am saving you the effort. If you want compensation, I suggest you take it from the one who shied the stone at him and drove him into the road.”

  “The lidy’s right,” said another man who had been watching the fray.

  “What’s his name?” asked Cecily. The organ-grinder spat.

  “Toby o’course; all dancing dogs is named Toby.”

  “Then shall we take Toby home, Mama?” asked Cecily.

  “We shall,” said Jane. “Can anyone let me have a box to put him in, to keep his leg still until I may set it? Why, thank you,” as the man who had spoken handed her an apple box. Jane put her muff in it to lay the dog on.

  “Well, you’re a real lidy to care,” said the man. “And some of us is going to ‘ave words wiv both these coves when you’m out of the way, beggin’ your pardon, lidy.”

  “My daughter and I are withdrawing so you might not feel inhibited,” said Jane demurely.

  “What do you think they are going to do?” asked Cecily, as they moved towards the carriage.

  “I suspect they are going to mill both grinders down for causing an affray, possibly make the knife grinder give the value of Toby to the organ-grinder, and give them both enough lumps to remember the lesson by,” said Jane. “And no, we will not be watching; men like to be more private about such things, especially private from swell gentry morts like you and me.”

  Cecily giggled.

  “Oh, it is funny when you mix cant in with your swell whids,” she said.

  “I expect Toby will be teaching doggy cant to Nat,” sighed Jane.

  Caleb raised an eyebrow at the addition to the family, but helped Jane by holding the dog and petting its head as Jane set the broken bone and bandaged it firmly, using a horn page-cutter as a splint. Toby whined and growled a little, but seemed to be aware that they were trying to help him. Nat came over and sniffed the intruder, decided he belonged to the family, and licked the newcomer’s nose.

  Fed on a bowl of meat scraps from the kitchen, Toby curled up on Jane’s muff and went to sleep, one leg stuck out sideways. Nat curled up beside him, eschewing his own rather grand little bed to be friendly with the new addition. Jane was much relieved. Nat was used to visiting dogs at their house in Essex, but she had been concerned that in a strange house, he might prove to want to exert his territorial rights.

  “You can fill another vegetable box from the kitchen with dirt, and teach him to do his business in that,” said Jane, to Cecily. “If he is clever enough to learn to dance, he will be clever enough to learn to use such a box. It is your task to change the dirt every day until he is well enough to take outside to do his business. We will feed him plenty of good meat jelly to help his bone to heal, and with good care, he might even dance again, if he wishes to, whatever that fellow said.”

  “Not natural, mind,” said Caleb.

  “Possibly not,” said Jane, “But he was wagging his tail when he was dancing in the street, so he does not do it unwillingly like a poor dancing bear, pricked about the legs to teach it to dance. Dogs enjoy learning tricks, if taught them with kindness, and however that fellow treated him, he is well enough fed, and he will be rewarded here for performing tricks asked of him, not punished for failing to do them. If he likes showing off, I would not want him discouraged.”

  “You mustn’t have him in here when you are playing the pianoforte, Jane, or when Cecily is playing,” said Caleb. “It will be unfair on him if he wants, or feels he should, dance, and cannot at the moment.”

  “Jackie was sufficiently taken with him, he can live in the kitchen for now,” said Jane. “Simmy started out there after all, until he settled in, so if it’s good enough for our son, it’s good enough for our new dog until he settles in.”

  It had already been a busier day than Jane had looked to have, and she was to see Mrs. Fielding in a short while. Cecily was banished to the kitchen to help Toby settle in, with orders to stay out of the way of the murderous woman her parents were going to see, to stop her from trying to murder anyone else.

  Cecily was not happy, but she knew she could not do much to stop a killer; and her new parents were experienced thief-takers, and Mama Jane had shot a man, so they were not helpless. Cecily told Toby all about it, as she fed him titbits Mrs. Ketch let her have for him, and he thumped his tail. It was hard to say exactly what sort of dog Toby might be; he had a look of a terrier, but his coat was smooth, and he had the large eyes and velvet nose of a pug, though not so flat-faced, and drooping soft ears, not standing ears as most terriers do. Fowler declared that his one of his grandsires was a pointer-terrier cross, who had dallied with a spaniel, and the resultant was his sire who had had his wicked way with someone’s pug.

  It was as close as anyone was likely to get. Mrs. Ketch said it was a little brown dog, and that would do for anyone.

  Jane sat behind her desk and smiled austerely when Mrs. Fielding was shown in. Tea things were already on the desk waiting only for her to pour out.

  “I am afraid your footman is dead,” said Jane. “I was not expecting you to have him attack me so soon, and to be so violent as to open fire on Caleb right away, so I just shot him instead of taking him in charge.”

  Mrs. Fielding went a dirty grey.

  “What is it you want of me?” she asked.

  Chapter 15

  “I believe I want you to stop trying ineffectually to kill the people who know that you used to be a madam,” said Jane. “You were born Jane Clark, to one Eliza Clark, the result of the misbehaviour of one Harry Fielding. When you were six, your mother moved to St Martin at Bow, where she plied her trade, as a ruined woman having little choice. I find it sad that she involved you in it, and admirable that you did not involve your daughter.”

  “My mother resented me. I always saw Cora as a treasure. I named her ‘Cora’ meaning ‘a maiden’ and I swore she would remain a maiden unless in legal matrimony by her own choice.”

  Jane nodded.

  “Did you contract syphilis before or after she was born?”

  “After, thank goodness, she’s not wanting because of being born with it. It was because of the long birth.”

  Jane nodded.

  “Then I see no reason to interfere with her marriage prospects; if she had been carrying it, I would have offered to take her as a companion so she would not pass it on. I am glad you are not trying to dissemble.”

  “You seem to know it all, even about the disease.”

  “That was a guess because you were acting as though you had a finite time in which to see Cora wed. And you move with great care; I imagine you are experiencing loss of balance, headaches, maybe?”

  “Blinding headaches, and I have the sores in my mouth. They will come on my nose soon, and I will n
ot be able to hide that, nor the madness when it begins. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll tell you in a moment. How did you get Lady Caroline to co-operate?”

  “When she was very young, she came to the brothel to hire a woman, to experiment with the joys of Sappho. I blackmailed her.”

  “Dear me. A shame, as she will not see Cora as someone to be protected if the disease should progress faster than you hope. I should have thought a clever woman like you might have convinced her that your mother went through a form of marriage ceremony with your father, and believed you to be legitimate; the scandal of that would probably have been enough for her to acquiesce to a pretence that you were quite legitimately part of her husband’s family.”

  “I did not think of that, I just saw my chance and took it,” said Mrs. Fielding. “I’ll do anything for Cora, and if that means killing you, I will,” and she withdrew a pistol from her reticule.

  “You are covered by my own pistol under the table, and I have a listener at the door,” said Jane. “All I know about you is in writing, and is filed in a sealed envelope with my solicitor. You don’t dare kill me. And indeed, if you tried, I would not be able to help you with Cora.”

  Mrs. Fielding gasped, but put the pistol away.

  “And what do you intend doing?” she asked.

  “I was asked to investigate you, by Lady Lieven. I intend telling her the story I suggested to you, that you are an imposter, but with a good excuse, and point out that your innocent daughter is not party to this, and that exposing you would be a worse scandal for an old family than promoting Miss Fielding’s chances.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I am also a mother of daughters, remember?” said Jane. “Like you, I would go to any lengths to protect them. You had no need to send your minion out on his abortive attempt on Mr. Montgomery, by the way; he is mortified with shame by having mistakenly identified you as someone he once met. As to the attempt on Caleb and me, well, we are used to more professional bullies coming after us, so there was no harm done, though I fear your footman may not feel so. He did not have a pretty expression on his face when he approached me.”